HONOLULU TO YOKOHAMA.
_As slow our ship her foamy track_
_Against the wind was cleaving,_
_Her trembling pennant still look'd back_
_To that dear isle 'twas leaving._
_Thursday, January 4th_.--It was very rough, but fortunately the wind
came from a favourable quarter. Sorry as we all were to bid farewell
to these charming islands, I could not help rejoicing that we had
picked up a fresh fair wind so unexpectedly soon.
While we were at Honolulu a regular epidemic of influenza prevailed in
the place, affecting both man and beast. This is often the case during
the prevalence of the south wind, which blew, more or less, during the
whole of our stay. We none of us suffered from the malady at the time,
but now nearly everybody on board is affected, and some very severely.
_Friday, January 5th_.--The fresh fair breeze still continues. At noon
we had sailed 240 knots. The head-sea we could dispense with, as it
makes us all very uncomfortable. Muriel, Baby, the three maids, and
several of the crew, are ill to-day with influenza, and I have a
slight touch of it, so I suppose it will go right through the ship.
Towards the evening the breeze increased to a gale.
_Saturday, January 6th_.--The gale increased during the night, and the
head-sea became heavier. There was a good deal of rain in the course
of the day. The wind dropped about sunset, and was succeeded by
intervals of calm, with occasional sharp squalls. Baby was very
poorly all day, but seemed better at night. We have now regularly
settled down to our sea life again, and, if only the children recover,
I hope to get through a good deal of reading and writing between this
and Japan. At present they occupy all my time and attention, but I
think, like the weather, they have now taken a turn for the better.
_Sunday, January 7th_.--A very rough and disagreeable day, with much
rain. All the morning we rolled about, becalmed, in a heavy swell.
Steam was ordered at half-past twelve, but before it was up the fair
wind had returned, so the fires were put out. We had the Litany at
eleven, and a short service, without a sermon, at four.
Baby was _very_ ill all night. Everything was shut up on account of
the torrents of rain, so that the heat was almost insufferable, and we
tossed and tumbled about in the most miserable manner.
_Monday, January 8th_.--All the early part of the morning we were in
the greatest anxiety about Baby; she could hardly draw her breath, and
lay in her cot, or on her nurse's lap, almost insensible, and quite
blue in the face, in spite of the application of mustard, hot water,
and every remedy we could think of. The influenza with her has taken
the form of bronchitis and pleurisy. The other children are still
ailing. Heavy squalls of wind and rain, and continuous rolling,
prevailed throughout the day.
_Tuesday, January 9th_.--The wind fell light, and the weather
improved; but we tumbled about more than ever. The thermometer in the
nursery stood at 90°. The children are a shade better.
_Wednesday, January 10th_.--Very hot, and a flat calm. Steam was up at
7.30 a.m. Mabelle is convalescent; Muriel not so well; Baby certainly
better. In the afternoon one of the boiler-tubes burst. It was
repaired, and we went on steaming. In the evening it burst again, and
was once more repaired, without causing a long stoppage.
(_Thursday, January 11th_, had no existence for us, as, in the
process of crossing the 180th meridian, we have lost a day.)
_Friday, January 12th_.--Wednesday morning with us was Tuesday evening
with people in England, and we were thus twelve hours in advance of
them. To-day the order of things is reversed, and we are now twelve
hours behind our friends at home. Having quitted one side of the map
of the world (according to Mercator's projection), and entered upon
the other half, we begin to feel that we are at last really 'homeward
bound.'
At four a.m. Powell woke us with the announcement that the boiler-tube
had again burst, and that we had consequently ceased steaming. Letting
off steam, and blowing out the boiler, made a tremendous noise, which
aroused everybody in the ship. It was a lovely morning, but a flat
calm, and the sun rose magnificently. The few light clouds near the
surface of the water caught and reflected the rays of light most
brilliantly before the sun itself appeared, and assumed all manner of
fanciful shapes.
About six o'clock a very light breeze sprang up, which increased
during the day; but the sea remained perfectly calm. We think we must
have got into the trade again. This weather is indeed a luxury after
all the knocking about we have lately gone through; and I feel as if I
could never rest enough. The constant effort to maintain one's
balance, whether sitting, standing, or moving about, has been most
fatiguing, and the illness of the children has made matters worse.
Baby is, I hope, now quite out of danger.
_Saturday, January 13th_.--The engineers made up their minds that we
were in the trade winds again yesterday, and that we should not want
the engines for some days. They therefore did not hurry on with the
repairs as they should have done. This morning there was a calm, and
when Tom ordered steam to be got up at once, the reply was,
'Please, sir, the engine won't be ready till night.' This was
annoying; but they worked extra hard all day, and by 4 p.m. steam was
raised. At six a nice little breeze sprang up, which freshened during
the evening, and at midnight orders were given to stop steaming.
We had another bad night of it--a head wind, the sea washing over the
decks, everything shut up, and the thermometer standing at 90°.
_Sunday, January 14th_.--I was on deck at 4 a.m. The Southern Cross,
the Great Bear, and the North Star, were shining with a brilliancy
that eclipsed all the other stars.
During the day the wind freshened to a squally gale. Sometimes we were
going ten, sometimes thirteen, and sometimes fifteen knots through the
water, knocking about a good deal all the while. Service was an
impossibility; cooking and eating, indeed, were matters of difficulty.
It rained heavily, and the seas came over the deck continually.
Many of the sailors and servants were ill. I was hopelessly so.
Nothing annoys me more than to find that, after having sailed tens and
tens of thousands of miles, I cannot cure myself of sea-sickness. I
can stand a good deal more rolling than I once could; but still, many
are the days when nothing but the firmest determination not to think
about it, but to find something to do, and to do it with all my might,
keeps me on my feet at all. Fewer, happily, are the days when
struggling is of no avail, when I am utterly and hopelessly
incapacitated, ignominiously and literally laid flat on my back, and
when no effort of will can enable me to do what I most wish to
accomplish. If only some physician could invent a sovereign remedy for
sea-sickness, he would deserve well of his country, and of mankind in
general.
_Monday, January 15th_.--I woke once or twice in the night, and felt
exactly as if I were being pulled backwards through the water by my
hair. We were rushing and tearing along at such a pace, against a head
sea, that it almost took one's breath away. But at noon we were
rewarded for all discomfort by finding that we had run 298 sea, or 343
land miles, in 24 hours, and that between 8.14 yesterday and 8.15
to-day we had made 302 knots, or 347 land miles--nearly 350 miles in
the 24 hours--under very snug canvas, and through a heavy sea. The
wind still continued fair and fresh, but the sea was much quieter, and
we all felt comparatively comfortable. More sails were set during the
afternoon. Some albatrosses and long-tailed tropic birds were seen
hovering about us. The moon begins to give a good light now, and we
found it very pleasant on deck this evening.
_Wednesday, January 17th_.--It was a fine warm morning, and we got the
children on deck for the first time for ten days.
_Thursday, January 18th_.--Between breakfast and lunch we sailed over
the spot where Tarquin Island is marked on the chart, and, between
lunch and dinner, over a nameless reef, also marked on the chart. A
good look-out had been kept at the masthead and in the bows, but not a
trace could be seen of either of these objects in any direction. The
weather kept clear and bright, and the sea was much calmer.
During the last five days we have covered 1,221 sea miles.
_Monday, January 22nd_.--At daylight Asuncion Island was still
visible. It is of volcanic origin, and is in the form of a perfect
sugar-loaf, 2,600 feet high, rising out of the sea, exactly as I had
expected the Peak of Teneriffe to appear. I should like to have landed
on the islands Agrigan or Tinian, so as to see the interesting remains
left by the ancient inhabitants. Some people say that they resemble
Aztec remains; others, that they are like those of the more modern
Peruvians. All authorities, however, seem to agree that they are like
those on Easter Island, the south-east extremity of Polynesia, this
being the north-west.
[Illustration: Amateur Navigation]
We were close-hauled all day; the wind was strong, and the sea rough
and disagreeable.
_Tuesday, January 23rd_.--Still close-hauled, and still a heavy swell.
I felt very ill, and could scarcely move my head for neuralgia. The
galley boiler burst to-day, so we are now dependent on the one in the
forecastle. During the night we passed the Euphrosyne rock. It looks
like a ship in full sail, and abounds with turtle, fish, and
sea-elephants.
_Wednesday, January 24th_.--Very much colder, though we are only just
outside the tropics. The wind was rather freer, and we had a beautiful
moonlight night.
_Friday, January 26th_.--During the night the breeze freshened, and in
the morning increased to a gale. Steam was therefore let off. It has
been a miserable day; so cold, wet, and rough, that it was impossible
to do anything, or to sit anywhere, except on the floor.
About 9 p.m. I was sitting in the deck-house, when I heard a
tremendous crash, and, looking out, saw that the fore gig davits had
been carried away, taking with them a piece of the rail, stanchion,
and cavil. The gig was hanging from the after davits, one might say,
by a thread, splashing and dashing in and out of the water, and
crashing and splintering against the side of the yacht. All hands were
speedily on deck; and in spite of the risk they ran, and of the
remonstrances of their comrades, two of the gig's crew jumped into her
with a rope, which they tried to pass round her. It was a difficult
task in that heavy sea, and many times they failed, and we constantly
feared that men, boat, and all were gone. Half a dozen of the crew
caught hold of the rigging outside, put their backs against the yacht,
and with legs outstretched tried to keep the gig off the ship's side,
while all the loose gear was floating away out of her. At last there
was a shout of triumph. The rope was round her, the men jumped on
board the yacht again, whilst sailors, stewards, and passengers
proceeded to hoist and drag the boat in, with all their might and
main. Alas! she was only a wreck. Her sides were stove in, her planks
were started, there was a hole in her bottom, and the moon shone
through her many cracks.
_Saturday, January 27th_.--About two o'clock this morning the yacht
plunged so heavily into a deep sea, that the jibboom, a beautiful
spar, broke short off, and the foretop-gallant mast and topgallant
yard were carried away almost at the same moment, with a terrible
noise. It took about eight hours to clear the wreck, all hands working
all night; and a very forlorn appearance the deck presented in the
morning, lumbered up with broken spars, ropes, &c. The jibboom fell
right across the forefoot of the yacht, and now looks as if it had
been cut at for weeks with some blunt tool.
The weather cleared a little to-day, but there was still a heavy sea
and nearly a head wind. The crew were busily engaged in repairing
damages. Unfortunately, two of them are ill, and so is the carpenter,
a specially important person at this juncture. No men could have
behaved better than they all did after the accident. It was frightful
to see them aloft in such weather, swinging on the ends of the broken
spars, as the yacht rolled and pitched about. When it comes to a pinch
they are all good men and true: not that they are perfection, any more
than other men are.
_Sunday, January 28th_.--It is finer, but bitterly cold. Several of my
tropical birds are already dead. The little pig from Harpe Island, and
the Hawaiian geese, look very wretched, in spite of all my
precautions.
We had the Litany at eleven, and prayer and a sermon at four; after
which Tom addressed the men, paying them some well-deserved
compliments on their behaviour on Friday night.
The decks were very slippery, and as we kept rolling about a good deal
there were some nasty falls among the passengers. We had a splendid
though stormy sunset, which did not belie its promise, for the wind
shortly afterwards became stiffer and stronger, until at last we had
two reefs down, and were tumbling about in all directions, as we
rushed through the water. The dining-tables tilted till they could go
no further, and then paused to go back again; but not quickly enough,
for the glasses began to walk uphill and go over the edge in the most
extraordinary manner. On deck the night looked brilliant but rather
terrible. The full moon made it as light as day, and illuminated the
fountains of spray blown from the waves by which we were surrounded.
Without her heavy jibboom, and with her canvas well reefed down, the
'Sunbeam' rode through it all, dipping her head into the sea,
shivering from stem to stern, and then giving herself a shake,
preparatory to a fresh start, just like a playful water-bird emerging
from a prolonged dive.
At midnight a tremendous sea struck her, and for a minute you could
not see the yacht at all, as she was completely enveloped in spray and
foam. Tom said it was just like being behind the falls of Niagara,
with the water coming over you from every quarter at once. It was only
loose stuff, however, for not a green sea did she take on board the
whole night through. Our old engineer, who has been with us so long,
made up his mind that we had struck on a rock, and woke up all the
servants and told them to go on deck. I never felt anything like it
before, and the shock sent half of us out of our beds.
_Monday, January 29th_.--At four o'clock I was called to go on deck to
see the burning mountain. The wind was still blowing hard, but we were
among the islands, and in comparatively smooth water. The full moon
still rode high in the heavens, her light being reflected in rainbow
hues from the spray and foam that drifted along the surface of the
water. On every side were islands and rocks, among which the sea
boiled, and seethed, and swirled, while the roaring breakers dashed
against the higher cliffs, casting great columns of spray into the
air, and falling back in heavy rollers and surf. Just before us rose
the island of Vries, with its cone-shaped volcano, 2,600 feet high,
emitting volumes of smoke and flame. It was overhung by a cloud of
white vapour, on the under side of which shone the lurid glare of the
fires of the crater. Sometimes this cloud simply floated over the top
of the mountain, from which it was quite detached; then there would be
a fresh eruption; and after a few moments' quiet, great tongues of
flame would shoot up and pierce through the overhanging cloud to the
heavens above, while the molten lava rose like a fountain for a short
distance, and then ran down the sides of the mountain. It was
wondrously beautiful; and, as a defence against the intense cold, we
wrapped ourselves in furs, and stayed on deck watching the scene,
until the sun rose glorious from the sea, and shone upon the
snow-covered sides of Fujiyama, called by the Japanese 'the matchless
mountain.' It is an extinct crater, of the most perfect form, rising
abruptly from a chain of very low mountains, so that it stands in
unrivalled magnificence. This morning covered with the fresh-fallen
snow, there was not a spot nor a fleck to be seen upon it, from top to
bottom. It is said to be the youngest mountain in the world, the
enormous mass having been thrown up in the course of a few days only
862 years B.C.
We reached the entrance to the Gulf of Yeddo about nine o'clock, and
passed between its shores through hundreds of junks and fishing boats.
I never saw anything like it before. The water was simply covered with
them; and at a distance it looked as though it would be impossible to
force a passage. As it was, we could not proceed very fast, so
constantly were the orders to 'slow,' 'stop,' 'port,' 'starboard,'
given; and I began at last to fear that it would be impossible to
reach Yokohama without running down at least one boat.
The shores of the gulf, on each side, consist of sharp-cut little
hills, covered with pines and cryptomerias, and dotted with temples
and villages. Every detail of the scene exactly resembled the
Japanese pictures one is accustomed to see in England; and it was easy
to imagine that we were only gazing upon a slowly moving panorama,
unrolling itself before us.
It was twelve o'clock before we found ourselves among the men-of-war
and steamers lying near the port of Yokohama, and two o'clock before
the anchor could be dropped.
[Illustration: Little Redcap.]
During this interval we were surrounded by a swarm of boats, the
occupants of which clamoured vociferously to be allowed on board, and
in many cases they succeeded in evading the vigilance of the man at
the gangway, by going round the other side and climbing over the rail.
A second man was put on guard; but it was of no use, for we were
invaded from all directions at once. We had a good many visitors also
from the men-of-war, Japanese and English, and from the reporters of
newspapers, full of curiosity, questions, and astonishment.
Having at last managed to get some lunch, Tom went to bed to rest,
after his two hard nights' work, and the rest of us went on shore.
Directly we landed at the jetty we were rushed at by a crowd of
_jinrikisha_ men, each drawing a little vehicle not unlike a Hansom
cab, without the seat for the driver--there being no horse to drive.
The man runs between the shafts, and is often preceded by a leader,
harnessed on in front, tandem fashion. Each of these vehicles holds
one person, and they go along at a tremendous pace.
We went first to the Consul's, where we got a few letters, and then to
the Post Office, where many more awaited us. We had then to go to
various places to order stores, fresh provisions, coals, and water,
all of which were urgently needed on board, and to give directions for
the repair of boats, spars, &c., with as little delay as possible. All
this business, including the inevitable search for a good laundress,
lay in the European quarter of the town, the appearance of which was
not remarkable. But the people we met in the streets were a study in
themselves. The children said they looked 'like fans walking about;'
and it was not difficult to understand their meaning. The dress of the
lower orders has remained precisely the same for hundreds of years;
and before I had been ashore five minutes I realised more fully than I
had ever done before the truthfulness of the representations of native
artists, with which the fans, screens, and vases one sees in England
are ornamented.
While we were going about, a letter was brought me, containing the sad
news (received here by telegram) of the death of Tom's mother. It was
a terrible shock, coming, too, just as we were rejoicing in the good
accounts from home which our letters contained. I went on board at
once to break the bad news to Tom. This sad intelligence realised a
certain vague dread of something, we knew not what, which has seemed
to haunt us both on our way hither.
[Illustration: Japanese Boats.]