PALMA TO RIO DE JANEIRO.
_A wet sheet and a flowing sea,_
_A wind that follows fast_
_And fills the white and rustling sail_
_And bends the gallant mast._
_Tuesday, July 25th_.--There was not much wind during the night, and
Palma was consequently still visible when I came on deck at daybreak.
We had a light fair wind in the morning, accompanied by a heavy swell,
which caused us to roll so much that I found it very difficult to do
anything. Several shoals of flying fish skimmed past us along the
surface of the water, occasionally rising to a considerable height
above it. Their beautiful wings, glittering in the bright sunlight,
looked like delicate silver filigree-work. In the night one flew on
board, only to be preserved in spirits by Dr. Potter.
_Saturday, July 29th_.--For the last three days we have been going on
quietly with fair, warm weather, but a nice fresh breeze sprang up
to-day. At midday the sun was so exactly vertical over our heads, that
it was literally possible to stand under the shadow of one's own
hatbrim, and be sheltered all round. Our navigators experienced
considerable difficulty in taking their noon-tide observations, as the
sun appeared to dodge about in every direction.
About two o'clock we made the high land of St. Antonio, one of the
Cape de Verde Islands, and, soon afterwards, the lower land of St
Vincent. Some doubt existing as to the prevalence of fever at the
latter place, Tom decided not to stop there, for fear of having to
undergo quarantine at Rio de Janeiro. We therefore shortened sail, and
passed slowly between the islands to the anchorage beyond the Bird
Rock. This is a very small island, of perfectly conical form, covered
with thousands of sea-fowl, who live here undisturbed by any other
inhabitants. The town of Porto Grande, with its rows of white houses
on the sea-shore, at the base of the rocky crags, looked clean and
comfortable in the evening light. During the day, however, it must be
a hot and glaring place, for there are no trees to afford shade, nor,
indeed, any kind of vegetation. The water, too, is bad, and all
supplies for passing steamers are brought from the other islands, at
very uncertain intervals. It is still a great coaling-station, though
not so much used as it was formerly, before the opening of the Suez
Canal. The ships come out with coal, and go away in ballast (there is
nothing else to be had here), procured from a point near the town, to
Rio or elsewhere, where they pick up their homeward cargo of fruit,
&c.
The absence of twilight in these latitudes, both at dawn and sunset,
is certainly very remarkable. This morning, at four o'clock, the stars
were shining brightly; ten minutes later the day had commenced to
break; and at half-past four the sun had risen above the horizon, and
was gilding the surrounding mountain tops.
_Sunday, July 30th_.--About 10 a.m. we were off Tarafal Bay--a most
hopeless-looking place for supplies. High rocky mountains, sandy
slopes, and black volcanic beach, composed a scene of arid desolation,
in the midst of which was situated one small white house, with four
windows and a thatched roof, surrounded by a little green patch of
sugar-canes and cocoa-nut palms.
But the result proved the sageness of the advice contained in the old
proverb, not to trust to appearances only; for, whilst we were at
breakfast, Mr. Martinez, the son of the owner of the one whitewashed
cottage to be seen, came on board. To our surprise, he spoke English
extremely well, and promised us all sorts of supplies, if we could
wait until three o'clock in the afternoon. Having agreed to do this,
we shortly afterwards went ashore in his boat, with a crew of more
than half-naked negroes, and a hot row of about three miles brought us
to the shore, where, after some little difficulty, we succeeded in
effecting a landing. Our feet immediately sank into the hot black
sand, composed entirely of volcanic deposits and small pieces, or
rather grains, of amber, through which we had a fatiguing walk until
we reached some palm-trees, shading a little pool of water. Here we
left some of the men, with instructions to fill the breakers they had
brought with them, while we walked on along the beach, past the
remains of an English schooner that caught fire not far from this
island, and was run ashore by her captain, thirty years ago. Her iron
anchor, chain, and wheel still remained, together with two queer
little iron cannon, which I should have much liked to carry off as a
memorial of our visit. We then turned up a narrow shadeless path,
bordered by stone walls, leading away from the sea, past a sugar-mill
and a ruin. A few almond, castor-oil, and fig trees were growing
amongst the sugar-canes, and as we mounted the hill we could see some
thirty round straw huts, like beehives, on the sandy slopes beside the
little stream. An abrupt turn in the mountains, amid which, at a
distance of three leagues, this tiny river takes its rise, hides it
from the sea, so that the narrow valley which it fertilises looks like
a small oasis in the desert of rocks and sand.
Mr. Martinez's house, where we sat for some time, and beneath the
windows of which the one stream of the island runs, was comparatively
cool. Outside, the negro washerwomen were busy washing clothes in large
turtle-shell tubs, assisted, or hindered, by the 'washerwoman-bird,'
a kind of white crane, who appeared quite tame, playing about just
like a kitten, pecking at the clothes or the women's feet, and
then running away and hiding behind a tree. The stream was full of
water-cresses, while the burnt-up little garden contained an abundance
of beautiful flowers. There were scarlet and yellow mimosas, of many
kinds, combining every shade of exquisite green velvety foliage,
alpinias, with pink, waxy flowers and crimson and gold centres,
oleanders, begonias, hibiscus, allamandas, and arum and other lilies.
[Illustration: Tarafal Bay, St. Antonio.]
Mr. Bingham sketched, I took some photographs, Dr. Potter and the
children caught butterflies, and the rest of our party wandered about.
Every five minutes a negro arrived with a portion of our supplies. One
brought a sheep, another a milch-goat for baby, while the rest
contributed, severally, a couple of cocoa-nuts, a papaya, three
mangoes, a few water-cresses, a sack of sweet potatoes, a bottle of
milk, three or four quinces, a bunch of bananas, a little honey,
half-a-dozen cabbages, some veal and pork, and so on; until it
appeared as if every little garden on either side of the three leagues
of stream must have yielded up its entire produce, and we had
accumulated sacks full of cocoa-nuts and potatoes, hundreds of eggs,
and dozens of chickens and ducks. It was very amusing to see the
things arrive. They were brought in by people varying in colour from
dark yellow to the blackest ebony, and ranging in size from fine
stalwart men, over six feet in height, to tiny little blackies of
about three feet six, with curly hair, snowy teeth, and mischievous,
beady eyes. The arrival of the provision boat and the transfer of its
miscellaneous cargo to the 'Sunbeam' was quite an amusing sight. The
pretty black goat and the sheep bleated, the fowls cackled, and the
ducks quacked, while the negroes chatted and laughed as they handed
and hauled on board fish of all shapes and sizes, bunches of bananas,
piles of cocoa-nuts, sacks of potatoes, and many other things,
finishing up with a tiny black boy, about three years old, whom I
think they would rather have liked to leave behind with us, if we
would only have taken him. The fish proved excellent, though some of
them really seemed almost too pretty to eat. A brilliant gold fish,
weighing about three pounds, and something like a grey mullet in
flavour, was perhaps the best. The prices were very curious. Chickens
a shilling each, ducks five shillings, goats thirty shillings, and
sheep ten shillings. Vegetables, fruit, and flowers were extremely
cheap; but the charge for water, fetched from the spring in our own
breakers by our own crew, with but little assistance from four or five
negroes, was 3_l_. 18_s_. However, as ours is the only yacht, with one
exception, that has ever visited this island, there was nothing for it
except to pay the bill without demur.
I never in my life felt so warm as I did to-day on shore, though the
inhabitants say it will not be _really_ hot for two months yet; I
never before saw cocoa-nut palms growing; and I never tasted a mango
until this morning; so I have experienced three new sensations in one
day.
The night was fearfully close, muggy, and thundery, the temperature in
the cabins being 89°, in spite of open sky-lights and port-holes.
Generally speaking, it has not hitherto been as hot as we expected,
especially on board the yacht itself. On deck there is almost always a
nice breeze, but below it is certainly warm.
_Tuesday, August 1st_.--Yesterday we were still under sail, but to-day
it has been necessary to steam, for the wind has fallen too light.
There was a heavy roll from the south, and the weather continued hot
and oppressive. In the cabins the thermometer stood at 89° during the
whole of the night, in spite of all our efforts to improve the
temperature. We therefore put three of the children in the deck-house
to sleep, opening the doors and windows; and some of the rest of our
party slept on deck in hammocks. In anticipation of the heavy
equatorial rains, which Captain Lecky had predicted might commence
to-day, we had had the awnings put up; a fortunate piece of foresight,
for, before midnight, the rain came down in torrents.
_Wednesday, August 2nd_.--At daybreak the sky was covered with heavy
black clouds, and the atmosphere was as hot and muggy as ever. We had
a great deal of rain during the day, and took advantage of the
opportunity to fill every available tub, bucket, and basin, to say
nothing of the awnings. It came down in such sheets that mackintoshes
were comparatively useless, and we had soon filled our seventeen
breakers, the cistern, and the boats, from which we had removed the
covers, with very good, though somewhat dirty, washing water.
_Friday, August 4th_.--We were only 289 miles off Sierra Leone in the
morning, and at noon therefore Tom decided to put about. Having done
so, we found that we went along much more easily and quite as fast on
the other tack. We maintained a good rate of speed on our new course,
which was now nearly due west, passing a large barque with every
stitch of canvas set, hand over hand.
We are still in the Guinea current, and the temperature of the water
is 82°, even in the early morning; but the heat of the sun does not
seem to have much effect upon it, as it does not vary to any great
extent during the day.
[Illustration: Father Neptune.]
In the evening we saw the Southern Cross for the first time, and were
much disappointed in its appearance. The fourth star is of smaller
magnitude than the others, and the whole group is only for a very
short time in a really upright position, inclining almost always
either to one side or the other, as it rises and sets.
_Tuesday, August 8th_.--We crossed the line at daylight.
This event caused much fun and excitement, both in cabin and
forecastle. The conventional hair was put across the field of the
telescope for the unsophisticated 'really to see the line,' and many
firmly believed they did see it, and discussed its appearance at some
length. Jim Allen, one of our tallest sailors, and coxswain of the
gig, dressed in blue, with long oakum wig and beard, gilt paper crown,
and trident and fish impaled in one hand, was seated on a
gun-carriage, and made a capital Father Neptune. Our somewhat portly
engineer, Mr. Rowbotham, with fur-trimmed dressing gown and cap, and
bent form, leaning on a stick, his face partially concealed by a long
grey beard, and a large band-box of pills on one arm, made an equally
good doctor to his Marine Majesty, while the part of Mrs. Trident was
ably filled by one of the youngest sailors, dressed in some of the
maids' clothes; but the accompanying pictures will give a better idea
than any description of mine.
[Illustration: His Doctor (Crossing the Line)]
Soon afterwards we saw an enormous shoal of grampuses, large black
fish, about 25 feet in length, something between a dolphin and a
whale, with the very ugliest jaws, or rather snouts, imaginable. They
are of a predatory and ferocious disposition, attacking not only
sharks, dolphins, and porpoises, but even whales, more than twice
their own size. We also passed through enormous quantities of
flying-fish, no doubt driven to the surface by dolphins and bonitos.
They were much larger and stronger in the wing than any we have
hitherto seen.
Lulu's puppies, born yesterday, have been respectively named Butterfly
(who survived her birth only an hour), Poseidon, Aphrodite,
Amphitrite, and Thetis--names suggested by their birth-place on the
ocean close to his Marine Majesty's supposed equatorial palace.
[Illustration: Lulu and her Puppies]
At noon we were 250 miles off St. Paul's Rocks.
_Thursday, August 10th_.--A very hot, showery day. Saw two large ships
in the distance. In the morning we were almost becalmed for a time,
but the breeze returned during the afternoon, and we were able to
proceed on our course. I think this has been the most lovely of the
many exquisite days we have enjoyed since we left England. It
commenced with a magnificent sunrise, and ended with an equally
gorgeous sunset, only to be succeeded by a beautiful moonlight night,
so clear and bright that we could see to read ordinary print on deck.
_Saturday, August 12th_.--At noon we were 300 miles off Bahia, a place
we have made up our minds not to visit, as it would lengthen our
voyage considerably, and there is not much to see there. We have
therefore decided to proceed direct to Rio, where we are looking
forward to arrive on Wednesday or Thursday next.
The night was showery, with a good deal of wind and sea.
_Sunday, August 13th_.--Sailing in the tropics is really very
delightful! When going to the westward, there is almost always, at
this season of the year, a favourable breeze, and the weather is
generally either quite fair or moderately so.
Whispered to it, westward, westward,
And with speed it darted forward.
We had service at 11.15 a.m., and again at 5.30 p.m. The choir has
considerably improved; one of our new men plays the violin very well,
and frequently accompanies the children and the nurse in their songs.
On a clear calm night, beneath a tropical sky, when the members of
this little group assemble on deck, and, by the light of a lantern,
sing some of their simple songs, the effect produced is both melodious
and picturesque.
The wind dropped at about 10 p.m., and we had an unpleasant amount of
roll during the night, sails flapping, spars creaking, and booms
swinging as if they would pull the masts out of the vessel.
[Illustration: Vespers.]
_Monday, August 14th_.--This morning we saw a small schooner ahead,
and thinking from her manoeuvres that she wished to speak us, we made
our number and ran towards her. We soon found out, however, that she
was a whaler, in chase of two large grampuses. She had two men on the
look-out in the cross-trees, in a sort of iron cage; and though she
was of much smaller tonnage than the 'Sunbeam,' she carried five big
boats, one of which, full of men, was ready to be lowered into the
water, the instant they had approached sufficiently near to the whale
or grampus. These seas used formerly to abound with whalers, but they
are now much less numerous, the seasons having been bad of late.
To-night the stars were especially brilliant, and we spent some hours
in trying to make out their names. Vega, our polar star for some time
to come, shone conspicuously bright, and the Southern Cross could be
seen to great advantage.
_Wednesday, August 16th_.--We had a fine fair breeze all day, and at 5
p.m. there was a cry from the mast-head of 'Land ahead!' Great
excitement immediately prevailed on board, and Tom and Captain Brown
rushed, for about the twelfth time, to the foretop to see if the
report was true. They were soon able to announce that Cape Frio was
visible on the port bow, about thirty-five miles distant. After even a
fortnight at sea, an indescribable sensation is produced by this cry,
and by the subsequent sight of the land itself. When we came up on
deck this evening, after dinner, we all gazed on the lighthouse on the
still distant shore as if we had never beheld such a thing in our
lives before. The colour and temperature of the water had perceptibly
changed, the former from a beautiful, clear, dark ultramarine to a
muddy green; innumerable small birds, moths, locusts, and grasshoppers
came on board; and, having given special orders that we were to be
called early the next morning, we went to bed in the fond hope that we
should be able to enter Rio harbour at daybreak.
_Thursday, August 17th_.--'L'homme propose; Dieu dispose.' Steam was
up at midnight, but by that time it was blowing half a gale of wind
from the south-west, with such a steep short sea that the screw was
scarcely ever properly immersed, but went racing round and round in
the air with tremendous velocity, as we pitched and rolled about. Our
progress was therefore at the rate of something rather under a mile
an hour, and at daybreak, instead of entering the harbour of Rio, as
we had hoped to do, we found ourselves close to Cape Frio.
About 8 a.m. matters mended, the wind moderating and changing its
direction slightly; so that, under steam and sail, we were soon going
along the coast at the rate of four or five miles an hour. The surf
was breaking with a loud roar upon the white sandy beach, while the
spray was carried by the force of the wind far inland, over the strip
of flat fertile-looking country, lying between the sea and a chain of
low sugarloaf-shaped mountains, parallel with the shore, and only a
short distance off.
Our course lay between the mainland and the islands of Maya and Payo,
where the groves of bananas and other trees looked very miserable in
the wind. The tall isolated palm-trees, whose elastic stems bowed
readily before the fury of the blast, looked, as they were twisted and
whirled hither and thither, like umbrellas turned inside out. Passing
the false Sugarloaf mountain, as it is called, we next opened out the
true one, the Gavia, and the chain of mountains beyond, the outlines
of which bear an extraordinary resemblance to the figure of a man
lying on his back, the profile of the face being very like that of the
late Duke of Wellington. As the sun sank in gorgeous splendour behind
these hills, I think I never saw a grander or more beautiful sight;
though the sky was so red and stormy-looking that our hopes of a fine
day to-morrow were but faint.
Before entering the harbour, a bar had to be crossed, which is a
dangerous operation all the world over. The skylights and hatches were
fastened down, and those of our party who did not like being shut up
below took their places on the bridge, where, for the first time since
we left England, it felt really quite cold. As we advanced, the
beautiful harbour, with its long rows of glittering gas-lights,
extending for miles on either side of the bay, and illuminating the
city and suburbs, gradually became visible. On our left lay the two
islands, Rodonda and Raza, on the latter of which is situated a
lighthouse. The wind was blowing off the land when we reached the bar,
so that, after all our preparations, there was hardly any sea to
encounter, and the moment we were over, the water on the other side
was perfectly smooth. A gun and a blue light from Fort Santa Cruz,
answered immediately by a similar signal from Fort Santa Lucia,
announced our arrival, and we shortly afterwards dropped our anchor in
the quarantine ground of Rio close to Botafogo Bay, in the noble
harbour of Nictheroy.
After dinner it rained heavily, and continued to do so during the
whole night.
[Illustration: Botafogo Bay]