Oct. 27th, 1839.
This morning, at ten o'clock, we stepped on board the steamboat Hercules,
destined to convey us to our packet with its musical name. The day was
foggy and gloomy, as if refusing to be comforted, even by an occasional
smile from the sun. All prognosticated that the Norma would not sail
to-day, but "where there's a will," etc. Several of our friends accompanied
us to the wharf; the Russian Minister, the Minister of Buenos Ayres,
Mr. -----, who tried hard to look sentimental, and even brought tears into
his eyes by some curious process; Judge -----, Mr. -----, and others, from
whom we were truly sorry to part.
The Norma was anchored in one of the most beautiful points of the bay, and
the steamboat towed us five miles, until we had passed the Narrows. The
wind was contrary, but the day began to clear up, and the sun to scatter
the watery clouds.
Still there is nothing so sad as a retreating view. It is as if time were
visibly in motion; and as here we had to part from -----, we could only
distinguish, as through a misty veil, the beauties of the bay; the shores
covered to the water's edge with trees rich in their autumnal colouring;
the white houses on Staten Island--the whole gradually growing fainter,
till, like a dream, they faded away.
The pilot has left us, breaking our last link with the land. We still see
the mountains of Neversink, and the lighthouse of Sandy Hook. The sun is
setting, and in a few minutes we must take our leave, probably for years,
of places long familiar to us.
Our fellow-passengers do not appear very remarkable. There is Madame
A----, returning from being prima donna in Mexico, in a packet called after
the opera in which she was there a favourite, with her husband Señor
V---- and her child. There is M. B---- with moustaches like a bird's nest;
a pretty widow in deep affliction, at least in deep mourning; a maiden lady
going out as a governess, and every variety of Spaniard and Havanero. So
now we are alone, C---n and I, and my French femme-de-chambre, with her air
of Dowager Duchess, and moreover sea-sick.
28th.--When I said I liked a sea life, I did not mean to be understood as
liking a merchant ship, with an airless cabin, and with every variety of
disagreeable odour. As a French woman on board, with the air of an
afflicted porpoise, and with more truth than elegance, expresses it: "Tout
devient puant, même l'eau-de-cologne."
The wind is still contrary, and the Norma, beating up and down, makes but
little way. We have gone seventy-four miles, and of these advanced but
forty. Every one being sick to-day, the deck is nearly deserted. The most
interesting object I have discovered on board is a pretty little deaf and
dumb girl, very lively and with an intelligent face, who has been teaching
me to speak on my fingers. The infant heir of the house of ----- has shown
his good taste by passing the day in squalling. M. B----, pale, dirty, and
much resembling a brigand out of employ, has traversed the deck with uneasy
footsteps and a cigar appearing from out his moustaches, like a light in a
tangled forest, or a jack-o'-lantern in a marshy thicket. A fat Spaniard
has been discoursing upon the glories of olla podrida. _Au reste_, we are
slowly pursuing our way, and at this rate might reach Cuba in three months.
And the stars are shining, quiet and silvery. All without is soft and
beautiful, and no doubt the Norma herself looks all in unison with the
scene, balancing herself like a lazy swan, white and graciously. So it is
without, and within, there is miserable sea-sickness, bilge-water, and all
the unavoidable disagreeables of a small packet.
31st.--Three days have passed without anything worthy of notice having
occurred, except that we already feel the difference of temperature. The
passengers are still enduring sea-sickness in all its phases.
This morning opened with an angry dispute between two of the gentlemen, on
the subject of Cuban lotteries, and they ended by applying to each other
epithets which, however much they might be deserved, were certainly rather
strong; but by dinner time, they were amicably engaged in concocting
together an enormous tureen of _gaspachos_, a sort of salad, composed of
bread, oil, vinegar, sliced onion and garlic--and the fattest one declares
that in warm weather, a dish of _gaspachos_, with plenty of garlic in it,
makes him feel as fresh as a rose. He must indeed be a perfect bouquet.
The opening of morning is dramatic in our narrow cabin. About twenty voices
in Spanish, German, Italian, and broken English, strike up by degrees. From
a neighbouring state room, _Nid d'oiseau_ puts forth his head. "Stooar! a
toomlar! here is no vater!" "Comin, sir, comin." "_Caramba!_ Stooard!"
"Comin, sir, comin!" "Stuart? vasser und toel!" "Here, sir." "Amigo! how is
the wind?" (This is the waking up of el Señor Ministro, putting his head
half suffocated out of his berth.) "Oh steward! steward!" "Yes, miss,"
"Come here, and look at _this_!" "I'll fix it, miss,"--etc.
1st November.--A fair wind after a stifling night, and strong hopes of
seeing the Bahama Banks on Sunday. Most people are now gradually ascending
from the lower regions, and dragging themselves on deck with pale and
dejected countenances. Madame A---- has such a sweet-toned voice in
speaking, especially in her accents of her _bella Italia_, that it is
refreshing to listen to her. I have passed all day in reading, after a
desultory fashion, "Les Enfants d'Edouard," by Casimir Delavigne,
Washington Irving, D'Israeli's "Curiosities of Literature," etc.; and it is
rather singular that while there is a very tolerable supply of English and
French books here, I see but one or two odd volumes in Spanish, although
these packets are constantly filled with people of that nation, going and
coming. Is it that they do not care for reading, or that less attention is
paid to them than to the French or American passengers? One would think
Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Calderon, or Moratin, better worth buying than
many commonplace novels which I find here.
3rd.--Yesterday the wind blew soft as on a summer morning. A land-bird flew
into the ship. To-day the wind has veered round, but the weather continues
charming. The sea is covered with multitudes of small flying-fish. An
infantile water-spout appeared, and died in its birth. Mr. -----, the
consul, has been giving me an account of the agreeable society in the
Sandwich Islands! A magnificent sunset, the sight of which compensates for
all the inconveniences of the voyage. The sky was covered with black clouds
lined with silver, and surrounded by every variety of colour; deep blue,
fleecy, rose, violet, and orange. The heavens are now thickly studded with
stars, numbers shooting across the blue expanse like messengers of light,
glancing and disappearing as if extinguished.
It is well to read the History of Columbus at sea, but especially in these
waters, where he wandered in suspense, high-wrought expectation, and firm
faith; and to watch the signs which the noble mariner observed in these
latitudes; the soft serenity of the breezes, the clear blue of the heavens,
the brilliancy and number of the stars, the sea-weeds of the gulf, which
always drift in the direction of the wind, the little land-birds that come
like harbingers of good tidings, the frequency of the shooting stars, and
the multitude of flying-fish.
As the shades of evening close around, and the tropical sky glitters with
the light of innumerable stars, imagination transports us back to that
century which stands out in bold relief amidst other ages rolling by
comparatively undistinguished, and we see as in a vision the Discoverer of
a World, standing on the deck of his caravel, as it bounded over the
unknown and mysterious waste of waters, his vigilant eyes fixed on the
west, like a Persian intently watching the rising of his god; though his
star was to arise from whence the day-god sets. We see him bending his gaze
on the first dark line that separated the watery sea from the blue of the
heavens, striving to penetrate the gloom of night, yet waiting with patient
faith until the dawn of day should bring the long-wished for shores in
sight.
6th.--For three days, three very long and uncomfortable days, the wind,
with surprising constancy, has continued to blow dead ahead. In ancient
days, what altars might have smoked to Aeolus! Now, except in the increased
puffing of consolatory cigar-smoke, no propitiatory offerings are made to
unseen powers. There are indeed many mourning signs amongst the passengers.
Every one has tied up his head in an angry-looking silken bandana, drawn
over his nose with a dogged air. Beards are unshaven, a black stubble
covering the lemon-coloured countenance, which occasionally bears a look of
sulky defiance, as if its owner were, like Juliet, "past hope, past cure,
past help."
7th.--This morning the monotony of fine weather was relieved by a hearty
squall, accompanied by torrents of rain, much thunder, and forked
lightning. The ship reeled to and fro like a drunken man, and the
passengers, as usual in such cases, performed various involuntary
evolutions, cutting right angles, sliding, spinning round, and rolling
over, as if Oberon's magic horn were playing an occasional blast amidst the
roaring winds; whilst the stewards alone, like Horace's good man, walked
serene amidst the wreck of crockery and the fall of plates. Driven from our
stronghold on deck, indiscriminately crammed in below like figs in a drum;
"weltering," as Carlyle has it, "like an Egyptian pitcher of tamed vipers,"
the cabin windows all shut in, we tried to take it coolly, in spite of the
suffocating heat.
There is a child on board who is certainly possessed, not by a witty
malicious demon, a diable boiteux, but by a teasing, stupid, wicked imp,
which inspires him with the desire of tormenting everything human that
comes within his reach. Should he escape being thrown overboard, it will
show a wonderful degree of forbearance on the part of the passengers.
8th.--The weather is perfect, but the wind inexorable; and the passengers,
with their heads tied up, look more gloomy than ever. Some sit dejected in
corners, and some quarrel with their neighbours, thus finding a
safety-valve by which their wrath may escape.
9th.--There is no change in the wind, yet the gentlemen have all brightened
up, taken off their handkerchiefs and shaved, as if ashamed of their six
days' impatience, and making up their minds to a sea-life. This morning we
saw land; a long, low ridge of hills on the island of Eleuthera, where they
make salt, and where there are many negroes. Neither salt nor negroes
visible to the naked eye; nothing but the gray outline of the hills,
melting into the sea and sky; and having tacked about all day, we found
ourselves in the evening precisely opposite to this same island. There are
Job's comforters on board, who assure us that they have been thirty-six
days between New York and la "joya mas preciosa de la corona de Espana."[1]
[Footnote 1: The most precious jewel in the Spanish crown, the name given
to Cuba.]
For my part, I feel no impatience, having rather a dislike to changing my
position when tolerable, and the air is so fresh and laden with balm, that
it seems to blow over some paradise of sweets, some land of fragrant
spices. The sea also is a mirror, and I have read Marryat's "Pirate" for
the first time.
Thus then we stand at eight o'clock, P.M.; wind ahead, and little of it,
performing a zigzag march between Eleuthera and Abaco. On deck, the pretty
widow lies in an easy chair, surrounded by her countrymen, who discourse
about sugar, molasses, chocolate, and other local topics, together with the
relative merits of Cuba as compared with the rest of the known world.
Madame A---- is studying her part of Elizabetta in the opera of Roberto
Devereux, which she is to bring out in Havana, but the creaking of the
Norma is sadly at variance with harmony. A pale German youth, in
dressing-gown and slippers, is studying Schiller. An ingenious youngster is
carefully conning a well-thumbed note, which looks like a milliner's girl's
last billet-doux. The little _possédé_ is burning brown paper within an
inch of the curtains of a state-room, while the steward is dragging it from
him. Others are gradually dropping into their berths, like ripe nuts from a
tree. Thus are we all pursuing our vocations.
9th.--Wind dead ahead! I console myself with Cinq-Mars and Jacob Faithful.
But the weather is lovely. A young moon in her first quarter, like a queen
in her minority, glitters like a crescent on the brow of night.
Towards evening the long wished for lighthouse of Abaco (built by the
English) showed her charitable and revolving radiance. But our ship,
Penelope-like, undoes by night what she has performed by day, and her
course is backward and crabbish. A delicious smell of violets is blowing
from the land.
10th.--A fair wind. The good tidings communicated by the A----, _toute
rayonnante de joie_. A fair wind and a bright blue sea, cool and refreshing
breezes, the waves sparkling, and the ship going gallantly over the waters.
So far, our voyage may have been tedious, but the most determined landsman
must allow that the weather has been charming.
Sunday at sea; and though no bells are tolling, and no hymns are chanted,
the blue sky above and the blue ocean beneath us, form one vast temple,
where, since the foundations of the earth and sea were laid, _Day unto day
uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge_.
This morning we neared the Berry Islands, unproductive and rocky, as the
geography books would say. One of these islands belongs to a coloured man,
who bought it for fifty dollars--a cheaply-purchased sovereignty. He, his
wife and children, with their _negro slaves_! live there, and cultivate
vegetables to sell at New York, or to the different ships that pass that
way. Had the wind been favourable, they would probably have sent us out a
boat with fresh vegetables, fish, and fruit, which would have been very
acceptable. We saw, not far from the shore, the wreck of a two-masted
vessel; sad sight to those who pass over the same waters to see
"A brave vessel,
Who had, no doubt,
some noble creatures in her,
Dashed all to pieces!"
Who had, at least, some of God's creatures in her. Anything but that! I am
like Gonzalo, and "would fain die a dry death."
We are now on the Bahama Banks, the water very clear and blue, with a
creamy froth, looking as if it flowed over pearls and turquoises. An
English schooner man-of-war (a _boy_-of-war in size) made all sail towards
us, doubtless hoping we were a slaver; but, on putting us to the test of
his spy-glass, the captain, we presume, perceived that the general tinge of
countenance was lemon rather than negro, and so abandoned his pursuit.
This evening on the Banks. It would be difficult to imagine a more placid
and lovely scene. Everything perfectly calm, all sail set, and the heavens
becoming gradually sprinkled with silver stars. The sky blue, and without a
cloud, except where the sun has just set, the last crimson point sinking in
the calm sea and leaving a long retinue of rainbow-coloured clouds, deep
crimson tinged with bright silver, and melting away into gray, pale vapour.
On goes the vessel, stately and swanlike; the water of the same turquoise
blue, covered with a light pearly froth, and so clear that we see the large
sponges at the bottom. Every minute they heave the lead. "By the mark
three." "By the mark three, less a quarter." "By the mark twain and a
half," (fifteen feet, the vessel drawing thirteen,) two feet between us and
the bottom. The sailor sings it out like the first line of a hymn in short
metre, doled out by the parish clerk. I wish Madame A---- were singing it
instead of he. "By the mark three, less a quarter." To this tune, the only
sound breaking the stillness of the night, I dropped to sleep. The captain
passed the night anxiously, now looking out for lights on the Banks, now at
the helm, or himself sounding the lead:
"For some must watch whilst others sleep;
Thus wags the world away."
11th.--Beautiful morning, and fair wind. About eight we left the Banks.
Just then we observed, that the sailor who sounded, having sung out five,
then six, then in a few minutes seven, suddenly found no bottom, as if we
had fallen off all at once from the brink of the Bank into an abyss.
A fellow-captain, and passenger of our captain's, told me this morning,
that he spoke the ship which carried out Governor and Mrs. McLean to
Cape-Coast Castle--the unfortunate L.E.L. It does not seem to me at all
astonishing that the remedies which she took in England without injury,
should have proved fatal to her in that wretched climate.
We have been accompanied all the morning by a fine large ship, going full
sail, the Orleans, Captain Sears, bound for New Orleans.... A long
semicircular line of black rocks in sight; some of a round form, one of
which is called the Death's Head; another of the shape of a turtle, and
some two or three miles long. At the extremity of one of these the English
are building a lighthouse.
12th.--We are opposite the Pan of Matanzas, about sixty miles from Havana.
Impatience becomes general, but the breeze rocks up and down, and we gain
little. This day, like all last days on board, has been remarkably tedious,
though the country gradually becomes more interesting. There is a universal
brushing-up amongst the passengers; some shaving, some with their heads
plunged into tubs of cold water. So may have appeared Noah's ark, when the
dove did not return, and the passengers prepared for _terra firma_, after a
forty days' voyage. Our Mount Ararat was the Morro Castle, which, dark and
frowning, presented itself to our eyes, at six o'clock, P.M.
Nothing can be more striking than the first appearance of this fortress,
starting up from the solid rock, with its towers and battlements, while
here, to remind us of our latitude, we see a few feathery cocoas growing
amidst the herbage that covers the banks near the castle. By its side,
covering a considerable extent of ground, is the fortress called the
_Cabana_, painted rose-colour, with the angles of its bastions white.
But there is too much to look at now. I must finish my letter in Havana.
HAVANA, 13th November.
Last evening, as we entered the beautiful bay, everything struck us as
strange and picturesque. The soldiers of the garrison, the prison built by
General Tacon, the irregular houses with their fronts painted red or pale
blue, and with the cool but uninhabited look produced by the absence of
glass windows; the merchant ships and large men-of-war; vessels from every
port in the commercial world, the little boats gliding amongst them with
their snow-white sails, the negroes on the wharf--nothing European. The
heat was great, that of a July day, without any freshness in the air.
As we approached the wharf the noise and bustle increased. The passengers
all crowded upon deck, and we had scarcely anchored, when various little
boats were seen making for the Norma. First boat brought an officer with
the salutations of the Captain-General to his Excellency, with every polite
offer of service; second boat brought the Administrator of the Yntendente
(the Count de Villa Nueva), with the same civilities; the third, the master
of the house where we now are, and whence I indite these facts; the fourth,
the Italian Opera, which rushed simultaneously into the arms of the A---i;
the fifth, prosaic custom-house officers; the sixth, a Havana count and
marquis; the seventh, the family of General M---o. Finally, we were hoisted
over the ship's side in a chair, into the government boat, and rowed to the
shore. As it was rather dark when we arrived, and we were driven to our
destination in a volante, we did not see much of the city. We could but
observe that the streets were narrow, the houses irregular, most people
black, and the volante, an amusing-looking vehicle, looking behind like a
black insect with high shoulders, and with a little black postilion on a
horse or mule, with an enormous pair of boots and a fancy uniform.
The house in which, by the hospitality of the H---a family we are
installed, has from its windows, which front the bay, the most varied and
interesting view imaginable. As it is the first house, Spanish fashion,
which I have entered, I must describe it to you before I sleep. The house
forms a great square, and you enter the court, round which are the offices,
the rooms for the negroes, coal-house, bath-room, etc., and in the middle
of which stand the volantes. Proceed upstairs, and enter a large gallery
which runs all round the house. Pass into the _Sala_, a large cool
apartment, with marble floor and tables, and _chaise-longues_ with elastic
cushions, chairs, and arm-chairs of cane. A drapery of white muslin and
blue silk divides this from a second and smaller drawing-room, now serving
as my dressing-room, and beautifully fitted up, with Gothic toilet-table,
inlaid mahogany bureau, marble centre and side-tables, fine mirrors, cane
sofas and chairs, green and gold paper. A drapery of white muslin and rose-
coloured silk divides this from a bedroom, also fitted up with all manner
of elegances. French beds with blue silk coverlids and clear mosquito
curtains, and fine lace. A drapery divides this on one side from the
gallery; and this room opens into others which run all round the house. The
floors are marble or stucco--the roofs beams of pale blue wood placed
transversely, and the whole has an air of agreeable coolness. Everything is
handsome without being gaudy, and admirably adapted for the climate. The
sleeping apartments have no windows, and are dark and cool, while the
drawing-rooms have large windows down to the floor, with green shutters
kept closed till the evening.
The mosquitoes have now commenced their evening song, a signal that it is
time to put out the lights. The moon is shining on the bay, and a faint
sound of military music is heard in the distance, while the sea moans with
a sad but not unpleasing monotony. To all these sounds I retire to rest.