We have not for a long time perused a more lively and interesting book
than that written by Mrs Brassey, purporting to be an account of her
voyage round the world, in the yacht named the _Sunbeam_. The lady was
accompanied by her husband, Mr Thomas Brassey, M.P., also her children
and a few private friends. The yacht, a handsomely fitted up and
commodious vessel, possessed three masts, and had a powerful sailing
capacity, but was provided with a screw and steam-power, to be used as
occasion required.
Though laying no claim to literary skill, Mrs Brassey writes pleasingly
in the form of a diary; and she may be complimented on her untiring
energy in bearing fatigue, and the good taste with which she describes
the multiplicity of scenes and circumstances calling for observation.
Mr Brassey, usually called Tom in the narrative, was his own navigator,
which infers no small degree of nautical knowledge; and we are led to
believe that this was not his first expedition with the _Sunbeam_.
He was, of course, assisted by a sailing-master, a boatswain, and
engineer, besides a crew of at least twenty able-bodied seamen; the
full compliment being made up by a steward and stewardess, cooks,
nurse, lady’s-maid, and other domestics.
One can fancy the pleasurable excitement in preparing for a year’s
voyage of this kind, the arrangements to be made, the articles to be
taken; the hopes probably predominating over the fears, the farewells
on going on board. It is the fate of few to have so splendid a chance
of making a tour of the globe, carrying from clime to clime not a few
of the comforts of home—an elegant saloon for daily resort, a library
of seven hundred volumes for amusing reading, nicely fitted-up cabins,
baths, a first-rate cuisine and larder, everything else to make life
pass away agreeably; letters of introduction, abundant means, liberty
to sail where and when you like. What more could anybody desire? Such
is yacht-life. It was brought to perfection in the _Sunbeam_. Looking
to the elegant form of the vessel, and the large quantity of sail she
carried, we can form an idea of her great speed when running before a
favourable wind. The only drawback, it can be supposed, was the small
draught of water, about nine feet, wherefore in rough weather there
must have been a considerable tumbling about. However, that is what
will be expected in yachting, which differs materially from performing
a voyage in large sea-going ships.
The _Sunbeam_, sailing from the Thames, set out on the 1st July 1876,
and steering westward by the Isle of Wight, suffered some rough weather
in getting into the Atlantic. On the 13th there was a cry of a ‘sail
on the port-beam;’ but on investigation it proved to be an abandoned
vessel tossed about on the ocean, with masts gone, and the sea washing
over the half-broken-up deck. This unfortunate derelict was visited; it
had been laden with wine, of which several casks were carried away, and
then it was left to its fate; though, had time permitted to take the
hulk into port, a considerable salvage might have been realised. The
party were beginning to settle down. At meals there was much pleasant
talk; Mrs Brassey read and wrote a good deal, and learned Spanish; one
of the gentlemen taught the children, and the commissariat department
was satisfactory. The land first reached was Madeira. At Funchal, the
vessel dropped anchor; and with jaunting about to see the island,
there was a stay of several days. Many friends came on board before
departure, and ‘all admired the yacht very much, particularly the
various cosy corners in the deck-house.’
On the 20th July, off for the Canary Islands; and these being reached,
there was an expedition on horseback to the Peak of Teneriffe.
Tremendous as was the ascent of a mountain which rises eleven thousand
four hundred and sixty-six feet above the level of the sea, Mrs
Brassey did not shrink from the undertaking. She, however, did not
attempt to climb the cone of five hundred and thirty feet, composed
as it is of hot ashes, into which the feet sink at every step, while
sulphurous vapours pour from the various fissures. View from the summit
magnificent. Of the picturesque scenery drawings and photographs were
taken. Teneriffe being exhausted, off went the _Sunbeam_, still holding
in a southerly direction by the Cape de Verde Islands.
Rio de Janeiro, on the coast of South America, was reached on the 18th
August. A graphic account is given of excursions in Brazil. The eye
everywhere was struck with the brilliant colours of the humming-birds,
flowers, and butterflies. Palm, orange, lemon, and citron trees were
among the common objects of vegetation. A variation in the general
amusement consisted of a voyage up the River Plate and a journey on
the Pampas. Splendid country, and well farmed, but under what an
infliction—the locusts. Of these terrible creatures Mrs Brassey heard a
good deal, and she longed to see them, and her wish was gratified. She
says: ‘In the course of our ride we saw in the distant sky what looked
very much like a heavy purple thunder-cloud, but which the experienced
pronounced to be a swarm of locusts. It seemed impossible; but as we
proceeded they met us, first singly, and then in gradually increasing
numbers, until each step became positively painful, owing to the smart
blows we received from them on our heads, faces, and hands.... As the
locusts passed between us and the sun they completely obscured the
light; a little later, with the sun’s rays shining directly on their
wings, they looked like a golden cloud, such as one sometimes sees in
the transformation scene in a pantomime.’ We pass over much that is
described in the Argentine Republic, as of little or no interest in
this country.
The _Sunbeam_ set off in its course southwards on September 28th.
While lying down to rest after breakfast, Mrs Brassey was summoned to
come on deck to see a ship which had signalled being on fire. A boat
being despatched to discover the condition of affairs, the vessel was
found to be the _Monkshaven_, sixty days out from Swansea, bound for
Valparaiso with a cargo of smelting-coal, which had taken fire by the
spontaneous ignition of gases. As it was evident that the unfortunate
ship could not be saved, prompt assistance was given in bringing the
crew on board the _Sunbeam_. ‘The poor fellows,’ says Mrs Brassey,
‘were almost wild with joy at getting alongside another ship, after all
the hardships they had gone through, and in their excitement they threw
overboard many things which they might as well have kept, as they had
taken the trouble to bring them. Our boat made three trips altogether;
and by half-past six we had them all safe on board, with most of their
effects, and the ship’s chronometers, charts, and papers.... While we
were at dinner the ship was blazing like a tar-barrel.’ The last time
the _Monkshaven_ was seen, she was burned down nearly to the water’s
edge. From the information given respecting the ill-fated ship, it
was learned that a large American steamer had passed quite close to
her, and disregarding signals of distress, had steamed away southward,
leaving all on board to their fate. The kind attention shewn by Mr
Brassey comes strongly out in contrast with such heartless conduct. The
unexpected addition of the crew of the _Monkshaven_ to those on board
the _Sunbeam_ proved a trial on the commissariat, but the difficulty
was overcome. The inconvenience was fortunately for only a few days.
The _Ilimani_, one of the Pacific Company’s mail-steamers, came in
sight on the route for England, and to this vessel the crew of the
_Monkshaven_ were consigned. Besides affording this relief, ‘the
captain of the _Ilimani_ kindly gave us half a bullock, killed this
morning, a dozen live ducks and chickens, and the latest newspapers.’
On the 6th October, the _Sunbeam_ was off the coast of Patagonia;
the rugged mountains of Tierra del Fuego rose on the sky, and now
the yacht shaped its course for the Straits of Magellan. To get
through these tortuous narrows is reckoned one of the clever feats in
navigation. There are many sunken rocks to be avoided, and the natives
scattered about the coast are not to be relied on. The scenery, which
is described as singularly picturesque, is well represented in some
beautiful illustrations.
The narrow channels were got through on the 12th October; the sun
pierced through the clouds, and the broad Pacific was in view. What a
triumph in navigation to have piloted ‘the yacht through the Straits,
for it would do credit, not only to any amateur, but to a professional
seaman.’ Sails were hoisted; and now begins what we deem to be the
most amusing part of the work; for after touching at Valparaiso, the
voyaging was among the groups of islands which, dotting the Pacific,
lie basking in the profuse beauty of the tropics. Valparaiso, the most
important trading town of Chili, left some agreeable impressions.
Several English gentlemen were solicitous that the party should stay
for a few days; and there were excursions in the neighbourhood. An
emporium of Panama hats was visited. These hats are a curiosity, and
are worn by almost everybody on the coast. They are made of ‘a special
kind of grass, split very fine,’ and are sold at an extraordinary
price; fifty to sixty guineas being not an unusual price for a single
hat, though some are sold at a cheaper rate. Their recommendation is
that they are light, pliable, and so enduring that they will almost
last for ever. Very wonderful hats, as Mrs Brassey thinks, but gravely
adds, that where ‘so many hats are lost overboard, they would prove
rather an unprofitable investment.’ Some curious details are given
respecting the abundance of eggs, which are offered in profusion at
meals. Eggs on all occasions are the order of the day, and poultry in
superlative abundance. Valparaiso, in short, is the paradise of eggs.
It is stated that there are good shops, but everything is ‘frightfully
dear.’ We can at all events say that there is a considerable import of
English books and periodicals.
The route adopted from Valparaiso was westward to the Society Islands,
lying in nearly the twentieth degree of south latitude. They may be
said to be at the very middle of the Pacific, and out of the way of
general navigation. It was a charming sail, but rather slow work; and
looking to the great stretch of ocean to be traversed, there were
qualms of feeling as to how provisions and water would last—fear that
there will have to be a dependence on potted meats; and talking of
these meats, we are assured that none at all equal those of American
preparation. Slipping on at the rate of five miles an hour under sail,
but sometimes accelerated by a breeze, the _Sunbeam_ went onward night
and day with nothing to look at but the ocean and sky. Much time
was spent in reading, and there was some amusement in noticing the
paroquets, monkeys, and other pet animals that had been domesticated
on board. On Sundays, as was customary throughout, all hands were
summoned for Divine service, just as at home in England. The length
of the service depended on the weather. When circumstances permitted,
Mr Brassey read a sermon in addition to the usual prayers. One likes
to read of these continued acknowledgments of Divine care by a whole
ship’s company, amidst the perils of the deep.
The Society Islands were reached on the 26th November. For the very
interesting account of these islands we must refer to what is described
by Mrs Brassey. But for the rise of coral reefs, these islands would
scarcely have an existence. This is one of the wonders of nature. Our
authoress is at a loss to describe the beauty of the scene. ‘Submarine
coral forests of every colour, studded with sea-flowers, anemones,
and echinidæ, of a brilliancy only to be seen in dreamland; shoals
of the brightest and swiftest fish darting and flashing in and out;
shells, every one of which was fit to hold the place of honour in
a conchologist’s collection, moving slowly along with their living
inmates: this is what we saw when we looked down from the side of the
boat into the depths below.’ On landing at one of the islands, the
party were hospitably received by the natives. Piles of cocoa-nuts,
fish, and fowls were laid down as presents at their feet. From the
cocoa-nuts they were refreshed by a drink of cool milk offered for
their acceptance. For these gifts there was a proper requital. Mrs
Brassey says: ‘The women were gentle and kind, and were delighted with
some beads, looking-glasses, and knives I gave them; in return for
which they brought us quantities of beautiful shells.’ At the island
of Tahiti there was a similar exchange of courtesies. Papiette is
described as quite a town, with a market affording an immense choice of
articles for sale.
The pleasures of a tropical clime are unfortunately apt to be marred
by certain torments. During the rainy season, water falls in solid
masses which no temporary shelter can withstand; that, however, is
nothing in comparison with the invasion of insects. A small party which
set out in an American wagon for a drive of two days round Tahiti,
passed the night at an inn where the insect pest was experienced in
an unmistakable way. The rooms were swarming with cockroaches ‘about
three inches long’, which climbed the walls and were seen in every
crevice. ‘Then there were the mosquitoes, who hummed and buzzed about
us, and with whom, alas! we were doomed to have a closer acquaintance.
Our bed was fitted with the very thickest calico mosquito curtains,
impervious to the air, but not to the venomous little insects, who
found their way through every tiny opening in spite of all our efforts
to exclude them.... Amidst suffocating heat, in the moonlight, were
seen columns of nasty brown cockroaches ascending the bed-posts,
crawling along the top of the curtains, dropping with a thud on the
bed, and then descending over the side to the ground.’ Being unable
to stand it any longer, Mrs Brassey rose, emptied her slippers of the
cockroaches, seized on her garments, and fled to the garden; whence,
however, she was driven back by torrents of rain. Such is a picture of
certain inconveniences in these tropical islands. Prodigious beauty of
vegetation, flowers magnificent, all seemingly a kind of paradise—but
the plague of insects.
Making a run northwards, the _Sunbeam_ reached Hawaii, one of the
Sandwich Islands, on the 22d December. Here was the same profusion
and beauty of flowers. The women and girls are described as being
gaily decorated with wreaths and garlands, and wearing a dress of
a very simple yet not inelegant fashion, consisting of ‘a coloured
long-sleeved loose gown reaching to the feet’—no tying at the waist,
all flowing and free, with no restraint in walking or sitting down.
Our space does not permit us to follow the movements of the party in
their excursions through interesting scenery. Hawaii, like all the
other islands in the group, is of volcanic origin. Kilauea, which is
still raging, is reckoned to be the largest volcano in the world, for
its crater is nine miles in circumference. This extraordinary volcano,
situated at the top of a mountain six thousand feet above the level
of the sea, was visited by Mrs Brassey, although the journey to it is
fatiguing, and the approach to it is attended with some peril. There
happens to be a comfortable inn near the brink of the crater, at which
travellers are accommodated and are furnished with guides to conduct
them with safety to points of interest.
According to Mrs Brassey’s account, the scene was horribly grand. ‘We
were standing on the extreme edge of a precipice, overhanging a lake
of molten fire, a hundred feet below us, and nearly a mile across.
Dashing against the cliffs on the opposite side, with a noise like the
roar of a stormy ocean, waves of blood-red, fiery, liquid lava hurled
their billows upon an iron-bound headland, and then rushed up the face
of the cliffs to toss their gory spray high in the air. The restless
heaving lake boiled and bubbled, never remaining the same for two
minutes together.... There was an island on one side of the lake, which
the fiery waves seemed to attack unceasingly with relentless fury, as
if bent on hurling it from its base. On the other side was a large
cavern, into which the burning mass rushed with a loud roar, breaking
down in its impetuous headlong career the gigantic stalactites that
overhung the mouth of the cave, and flinging up the liquid material for
the formation of new ones. It was all terribly grand, magnificently
sublime; but no words could adequately describe such a scene.’
Perhaps the specimens now presented will incline readers to undertake a
thorough perusal of this unique and interesting work, which (published
by Longman) we doubt not will be found at all the libraries. The
route homewards of the _Sunbeam_ from Hawaii was by way of Japan, the
China Sea, the Straits of Malacca, Ceylon, the Bay of Bengal, the Red
Sea, the Suez Canal, and the Mediterranean, about all which there are
many amusing details. As regards the traffic on the Suez Canal, the
gratifying fact is mentioned, that on the day the _Sunbeam_ entered the
Canal, the sum of six thousand pounds was taken as dues at the Suez
office alone. The climate of the Mediterranean, which we are in the
habit of extolling as beneficial to invalids from northern countries,
suited badly, as we are told, with the delicate constitution of the
pet animals brought from the South Pacific and other warm regions.
Although tended with great care, several pined and died, from the
effects of acute bronchitis or other ailments, after passing Malta. All
these victims to a change of climate ‘were placed together in a neat
little box, and committed to the deep at sunset, a few tears being shed
over the departed pets, especially by the children.’
Mrs Brassey with her family and friends reached home—a palatial mansion
on the south coast of England, near Hastings—on the morning of the
27th May 1877. In the whole voyage round the world, no hitch nor any
misadventure had occurred. We can imagine that the expedition will
have left an agreeable topic of conversation for life, and that its
surprising success will inspire others equally qualified to follow the
brilliant example offered by ‘A Voyage in the _Sunbeam_.’