DEPARTURE FROM RIO JANEIRO--SANTOS AND ST. PAULO--CIRCUMNAVIGATION
OF CAPE HORN--THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN--ARRIVAL IN VALPARAISO--8TH
DECEMBER, 1846, TO 2ND MARCH, 1847.
When I paid 25 pounds for my place in the fine English barque, "John
Renwick," Captain Bell, the latter promised me that he would be
ready to sail on the 25th of November at the latest, and would stop
at no intermediate port, but shape his course direct to Valparaiso.
The first part of this promise I believed, because he assured me
that every day he stopped cost him 7 pounds; and the second,
because, as a general rule, I willingly believe every one, even ship
captains. In both particulars, however, was I deceived; for it was
not until the 8th of December that I received a notice to go on
board that evening and then for the first time the captain informed
me that he must run into Santos, to lay in a stock of provisions,
which were there much cheaper than in Rio Janeiro; that he also
intended clearing out a cargo of coal and taking in another of
sugar. He did not tell me till we arrived in Santos itself, where
he also assured me that all these different matters would not take
him more than three or four days.
I took leave of my friends and went on board in the evening; Count
Berchthold and Messrs. Geiger and Rister accompanying me to the
ship.
Early in the morning of the 9th of December we weighed anchor, but
the wind was so unfavourable that we were obliged to tack the whole
day in order to gain the open sea, and it was not until about 10
A.M. that we lost sight of land.
There were eight passengers besides myself; five Frenchmen, one
Belgian, and two citizens of Milan. I looked upon the latter as
half countrymen of mine, and we were soon very good friends.
It was the second time this year that the two Italians were making
the voyage round Cape Horn. Their first had not been fortunate;
they reached Cape Horn in winter, which in those cold southern
latitudes lasts from April till about November. {53} They were
unable to circumnavigate the Cape, being driven back by violent
contrary winds and storms, against which they strove for fourteen
weary days without making the least progress. The crew now lost
courage, and affirmed that it would be advisable to turn back and
wait for more favourable winds. The captain, however, was not of
this opinion, and succeeded so well in working upon the pride of the
crew that they once more engaged in their conflict with the
elements. It was, however, for the last time, for the very same
night a tremendous sea broke over the ship, tearing away all her
upper works, and sweeping the captain and six of the sailors
overboard. The water poured in torrents into the cabins, and drove
every one from the berths. The bulwarks, boats, and binnacle were
carried clean off, and the mainmast had to be cut away. The sailors
then turned the ship about, and after a long and dangerous voyage,
succeeded in bringing her, dismasted as she was, into Rio Janeiro.
This story was not very encouraging, but the fine weather and our
good ship relieved us of all anxiety. With regard to the vessel, we
could not have chosen a better. It had large, comfortable cabins,
an exceedingly good-natured and obliging captain, and a bill of fare
which must have contented the most dainty palate. Every day we had
roast or stewed fowls, ducks, or geese, fresh mutton or pork, eggs
variously prepared, plum-pudding and tarts; to all this were added
side dishes of ham, rice, potatoes, and other vegetables; and for
dessert, dried fruit, nuts, almonds, cheese, etc. There was also
plenty of bread, fresh baked every day, and good wine. We all
unanimously acknowledged that we had never been so well treated, or
had so good a table in any sailing vessel before; and we could,
therefore, in this respect, look forward to our voyage without any
apprehension.
On the 12th of December we hove in sight of the mountain ranges of
Santos, and at 9 o'clock the same evening we reached a bay which the
captain took for that of the same name. Lighted torches were
repeatedly held over the vessel's side to summon a pilot; no pilot,
however, made his appearance, and we were therefore obliged to trust
to chance, and anchor at the mouth of the bay.
On the morning of the 13th a pilot came on board, and astonished us
with the intelligence that we had anchored before the wrong bay. We
had some trouble in working our way out, and anchoring about noon in
the right one. A pretty little chateau-like building immediately
attracted our attention. We took it for some advanced building of
the town, and congratulated one another on having reached our
temporary destination so quickly. On approaching nearer, however,
we could perceive no signs of the town, and learned that the
building was a small fort, and that Santos was situated in a second
bay, communicating with the first by a small arm of the sea.
Unluckily, the wind had by this time fallen, and we were obliged to
be at anchor all day, and it was not until the 14th that a slight
breeze sprang up and wafted us into port.
Santos is most charmingly situated at the entrance of a large
valley. Picturesque hills, adorned with chapels and detached
houses, rise on each side, and immediately beyond are considerable
mountain ranges, spreading in a semi-circle round the valley, while
a lovely island forms a most beautiful foreground to the whole.
We had scarcely landed before the captain informed us that we must
stop for at least five days. The Italians, one of the Frenchmen,
and myself determined that we would take advantage of this delay to
make an excursion to St. Paulo, the largest inland town of the
Brazils, and about forty miles from Santos. The same evening we
hired mules, for which we paid five milreis (10s. 10d.) each, and
set out upon our trip.
15th December. Early in the morning, we armed ourselves with well-
charged double-barrelled pistols, having been alarmed by accounts of
the Maroon negroes, {55} about a hundred of whom were said to be at
that time lurking in the mountains, and to be so daring that they
extended their inroads as far as the vicinity of Santos itself.
The first eight miles led through the valley to the lofty range of
mountains which we had to cross. The road was good, and more
frequented than any I had yet seen in the Brazils. Handsome wooden
bridges traverse the rivers Vicente and Cubatao; one of these
bridges is actually covered, but then every one is charged a pretty
high toll.
In one of the vendas at the foot of the mountain we fortified
ourselves with some excellent pan-cakes, laid in a stock of sugar-
canes, the juice of which is excessively refreshing in the great
heat, and then proceeded to scale the Serra, 3,400 feet high. The
road was execrable; full of holes, pits, and puddles, in which our
poor beasts often sank above their knees. We had to skirt chasms
and ravines, with torrents rolling loudly beneath, yet not visible
to us, on account of the thick underwood which grew over them. Some
part of the way, too, lay through virgin forests, which, however,
were not nearly so beautiful or thick as some I had traversed on my
excursion to the Puris. There were hardly any palm-trees, and the
few there were, reminded us, from their thin stems and scanty
foliage, of those of a colder climate.
The prospect from the Serra struck us all with astonishment. The
entire valley with its woods and prairies was spread far and wide
before our sight as far as the bays, the little detached huts being
quite indistinguishable, while only a part of the town and a few
masts of ships were perceptible in the distance.
A turning in the road soon shut out this charming picture from our
gaze; we then left the Serra and entered upon a woody, uneven tract,
alternating with large level grass-plots, covered with low
brushwood, and innumerable mole-hills, two feet high.
Half way from Santos to St. Paulo is a place called Rio Grande, the
houses of which lie, after the Brazilian fashion, so far apart, that
no one would suppose they had any connection with each other. The
owner of the mules used on this journey resides here, and here,
likewise, the money for their hire is paid. If the traveller
desires to proceed immediately he has fresh mules given him, but,
should he prefer stopping the afternoon or night, he finds very good
victual and clean rooms, for which he has nothing to pay, as they
are included in the five milreis (10s. 10d.), charged for the mules.
We snatched a hasty morsel or two, and then hurried on, in order to
complete the second half of the road before sunset. The plain
became broader and broader the nearer we approached the town; the
beauty of the scenery falls off very much, and for the first time
since I left Europe, did I see fields and hills of sand. The town
itself, situated upon a hill, presents a tolerable appearance; it
contains about 22,000 inhabitants, and is a place of considerable
importance for the internal commerce of the country. In spite of
this, however, it has neither an inn nor any other place where
strangers can alight.
After inquiring for a long time in vain for lodgings, we were
directed to a German and a Frenchman, with the remark that both
received lodgers out of pure politeness. We first went to the
German, who very bluntly cut us short by saying that he had no room.
From him we proceeded to the Frenchman, who sent us to a Portuguese,
and on visiting the latter we received the same answer we had
obtained from the German.
We were now greatly embarrassed; the more so, because the wearisome
nature of our journey had so fatigued the Frenchman that he was
hardly able any longer to sit upright in his saddle.
In this critical position I thought of the letter of recommendation
that Herr Geiger had given me in Rio Janeiro, for a German gentleman
of the name of Loskiel, who had settled here. I had intended not to
deliver this letter until the next day, but "necessity knows no
law," and so I paid my visit the same evening.
He was kind enough to interest himself for us in the warmest manner
imaginable. He gave one of the gentlemen and myself lodgings in his
own house, and our two companions in that of a neighbour of his,
inviting all of us to dine at his table. We now learned that in St.
Paulo no one, not even an hotel-keeper, will receive a stranger if
he be not provided with a letter of recommendation. It is certainly
a lucky thing for travellers that this strange custom is not
prevalent everywhere.
16th December. After having completely recovered ourselves from the
fatigues of our yesterday's ride, our first thought was to view the
curiosities of the town. We asked our hospitable host for
information on this point, but he merely shrugged his shoulders, and
said, that he knew of no curiosities, unless, indeed, we chose to
look upon the Botanical Garden in the light of one.
We went out, therefore, after breakfast, and first of all viewed the
town: where we found that the number of large and well-built houses
was, in comparison to the size of the two places, greater than in
Rio Janeiro, although even here, there was nothing like taste or
peculiar architectural style. The streets are tolerably wide, but
present an extraordinarily deserted appearance, the universal
silence being broken only by the insupportable creaking of the
country people's carts. These carts rest upon two wheels, or rather
two wooden disks, which are often not even hooped with iron to keep
them together. The axle, which is likewise of wood, is never
greased, and thus causes the demoniacal kind of music to which I
alluded.
A peculiarity of dress, very remarkable in this hot climate, is here
prevalent: all the men, with the exception of the slaves, wear
large cloth cloaks, one half of which they throw over their
shoulder; I even saw a great many women enveloped in long, broad
cloth capes.
In St. Paulo there is a High School. Those who study there, and
come from the country or the smaller towns, are exposed to the
inconvenience of being refused lodgings under any one's roof. They
are obliged to hire and furnish houses for themselves, and be their
own housekeepers.
We visited several churches which possess very little worth looking
at, either inside or out, and then concluded by proceeding to the
Botanical Garden, which also contains no object of any interest,
with the exception of a plantation of Chinese teas.
All our sight-seeing did not occupy us more than a few hours, and we
could very conveniently have begun our journey back to Santos the
next morning; but the Frenchman, who, on account of the great
fatigue he had suffered, had not accompanied us in our walk, begged
us to put off our return for half a day longer, and to arrange it in
such a manner, that we should pass the night in Rio Grande. We
willingly acceded to his wish, and set out upon the afternoon of the
17th, after thanking our kind host most cordially for his hospitable
entertainment. In Rio Grande we found an excellent supper,
convenient sleeping apartments, and a good breakfast the next
morning. About 12 o'clock on the 18th of December, we arrived
safely in Santos, and the Frenchman then confessed to us he had felt
so fatigued on arriving at St. Paulo, from his long ride, that he
was afraid of being seriously ill. However, he recovered himself
completely in a few days, but assured us, that it would be some time
before he again accompanied us on one of our trips.
The first question we put to the captain was: "When do you weigh
anchor?" to which he very politely replied, that as soon as he had
cleared out 200 tons of coal, and shipped 6,000 sacks of sugar, he
should be ready to set sail, and in consequence of this we had to
remain three whole weary weeks in Santos.
We were still in Santos when we celebrated New-Year's Day, 1847, and
at last, on the 2nd of January, were lucky enough to bid the town
adieu; but did not proceed far, for in the first bay the wind fell,
and did not spring up again till after midnight. It was now Sunday,
and no true Englishman will set sail on a Sunday; we remained,
therefore, lying at anchor the whole of the 3rd of January, looking
with very melancholy feelings after two ships, whose captains, in
spite of the holiness of the day, had profited by the fresh breeze,
and sailed gaily past us.
On the same evening we saw a vessel, which our captain affirmed was
a slaver, run into the bay. It kept as far as possible from the
fort, and cast anchor at the most outward extremity of the bay. As
the night was clear and moonlight we walked late upon deck, when,
true enough, we saw little boats laden with negroes pulling in
shore. An officer, indeed, came from the fort to inquire into the
doings of this suspicious craft; but the owner seemed to afford him
a satisfactory account, for he left the ship, and the slaves
continued during the whole night to be quietly and undisturbedly
smuggled in as before.
On the morning of the 4th of January, as we sailed past the vessel,
we beheld a great number of the poor creatures still standing upon
the deck. Our captain inquired of the slave-dealer how many slaves
he had had on board, and we learned with astonishment that the
number amounted to 670. Much has already been said and written upon
this horrible trade; it is everywhere execrated, and looked upon as
a blot on the human race, and yet it still continues to flourish.
This day promised to turn out a very melancholy one in many
respects. We had hardly lost sight of the slaver before one of our
own crew had nearly committed suicide. The steward, a young
mulatto, had contracted the bad habit of indulging too much in
liquor. The captain had often threatened to punish him severely,
but all to no purpose; and this morning he was so intoxicated that
the sailors were obliged to lay him in a corner of the forecastle,
where he might sleep himself sober. Suddenly, however, he leapt up,
clambered on to the forepart of the ship, and threw himself into the
sea. Luckily, it was almost a calm, the water was quite still, and
we had hopes of saving him. He soon reappeared at the side of the
vessel, and ropes were thrown him from every side. The love of life
was awakened in his breast, and caused him to grasp involuntarily at
the ropes, but he had not strength enough to hold on. He again
sank, and it was only after great exertion that the brave sailors
succeeded in rescuing him from a watery grave. Hardly had he
recovered his senses ere he endeavoured to throw himself in again,
exclaiming that he had no wish to live. The man was raving mad, and
the captain was obliged to have him bound hand and foot, and chained
to the mast. On the following day he was deprived of his office,
and degraded to the rank of subordinate to a new steward.
5th January. Mostly calms. Our cook caught, today, a fish three
feet long, and remarkable for the manner in which it changed colour.
When it came out of the water it was a bright yellow, to which
colour it owes its name of Dorado. At the expiration of one or two
minutes the brilliant yellow changed into a light sky-blue, and
after its death its belly again turned to a beautiful light yellow,
but the back was a brownish green. It is reckoned a great delicacy,
but, for my own part, I found its flesh rather dry.
On the 9th of January we were off the Rio Grande. In the evening
everything seemed to promise a violent storm; the captain consulted
his barometer every second almost, and issued his orders according
to its indications. Black clouds now began to drive towards us, and
the wind increased to such a pitch that the captain had all the
hatchways carefully fastened down, and the crew ready to reef the
sails at a moment's notice. At a little past 8, the hurricane broke
forth. Flash after flash of lightning darted across the horizon
from every side, and lighted the sailors in their work; the agitated
waves being illuminated with the most dazzling brilliancy. The
majestic rolling of the thunder drowned the captain's voice, and the
white foaming billows broke with such terrific force over the deck,
that it appeared as if they would carry everything with them into
the depths of the ocean. Unless there had been ropes stretched on
each side of the ship for the sailors to catch hold of, the latter
would most certainly have been washed away. Such a storm as this
affords much food for reflection. You are alone upon the boundless
ocean, far from all human help, and feel more than ever that your
life depends upon the Almighty alone. The man who, in such a
dreadful and solemn moment, can still believe there is no God, must
indeed be irretrievably struck with mental blindness. A feeling of
tranquil joy always comes over me during such great convulsions of
Nature. I very often had myself bound near the binnacle, and let the
tremendous waves break over me, in order to absorb, as it were, as
much of the spectacle before me as possible; on no occasion did I
ever feel alarmed, but always confident and resigned.
At the expiration of four hours the storm had worn itself out, and
was succeeded by a perfect calm.
On the 10th of January we caught sight of several sea-turtles and a
whale. The latter was only a young one, about forty feet long.
11th January. We were now off the Rio Plata, {59} and found the
temperature very perceptibly cooler.
Up to the present time we had seen no signs of sea-tangle or
molluscae, but during the night we beheld some molluscae for the
first time, shining like stars at a great depth below the surface of
the water.
In these latitudes the constellation of the southern cross keeps
increasing in brilliancy and beauty, though it is far from being as
wonderful as it is said to be. The stars in it, four in number, and
disposed somewhat in the following manner, **** are, it is true,
large and splendid; but they did not excite, either in myself or any
other person of our company, much more admiration than the other
constellations.
As a general rule, many travellers exaggerate a great deal. On the
one hand, they often describe things which they have never seen
themselves, and only know from hearsay; and, on the other, they
adorn what they really have seen with a little too much imagination.
16th January. In 37 degrees South lat. we fell in with a strong
current, running from south to north, and having a yellow streak
down the middle of it. The captain said that this streak was caused
by a shoal of small fishes. I had some water drawn up in a bucket,
and really found a few dozen living creatures, which, in my opinion,
however, belonged rather to some species of molluscae than to any
kind of fish. They were about three-quarters of an inch long, and
as transparent as the most delicate water-bubbles; they were marked
with white and light yellow spots on the forepart of their bodies,
and had a few feelers underneath.
In the night of the 20th to 21st of January we were overtaken by a
very violent storm, which so damaged our mainmast that the captain
determined on running into some haven on the first opportunity, and
putting in a new one. For the present the old one was made fast
with cables, iron chains, and braces.
In 43 degrees North lat. we saw the first sea-tangle. The
temperature had by this time very perceptibly decreased in warmth,
the glass often standing no higher than 59 or 63 degrees Fah.
23rd January. We were so near Patagonia that we could distinctly
make out the outline of the coast.
26th January. We still kept near the land. In 50 degrees South
lat. we saw the chalky mountains of Patagonia. Today we passed the
Falkland Islands, which stretched from 51 to 52 degrees South lat.
We did not see them, however, as we kept as near the land as
possible, in order not to miss the Straits of Magellan. For some
days the captain had been studying an English book, which, in his
opinion, clearly proved that the passage through the Straits of
Magellan was far less dangerous and far shorter than that round Cape
Horn. I asked him how it happened that other sailors knew nothing
of this valuable book, and why all vessels bound for the western
coast of America went round Cape Horn? He could give me no other
answer than that the book was very dear, and that that was the
reason no one bought it. {60}
To me this bold idea of the captain's was extremely welcome. I
already pictured in my mind the six-feet tall Patagonians putting
off to us in their boats; I saw myself taking their mussels, plants,
ornaments, and weapons in exchange for coloured ribbons and
handkerchiefs; while, to render my satisfaction complete, the
captain said that he should land at Port Famine (a Patagonian haven)
to supply the injured portion of our mainmast. How thankful was I,
in secret, to the storm for having reduced our ship to her present
condition.
Too soon, however, were all my flattering hopes and dreams
dispelled. On the 27th of January the latitude and longitude were
taken, and it was then found that the Straits of Magellan were
twenty-seven minutes (or nautical miles) behind us, but as we were
becalmed, the captain promised, in case a favourable wind should
spring up, to endeavour to return as far as the Straits.
I placed no more confidence in this promise, and I was right. About
noon a scarcely perceptible breeze sprang up, which the captain, in
high spirits, pronounced a favourable one--for rounding Cape Horn.
If he had ever really intended to pass through the Straits, he would
only have had to cruise about for a few hours, for the wind soon
changed and blew directly in the desired direction.
28th January. We were constantly so near Terra del Fuego that we
could make out every bush with the naked eye. We could have reached
the land in an hour, without retarding our voyage in the least, for
we were frequently becalmed; but the captain would not consent, as
the wind might spring up every instant.
The coast appeared rather steep, but not high; the foreground was
composed of meagre pasture alternating with tracts of sand, and in
the background were ranges of woody hills, beyond which rose snow-
covered mountains. On the whole, the country struck me as being
much more inhabitable than the Island of Iceland, which I had
visited a year and a half previously. The temperature, too, must
here be higher, as even at sea we had 54 degrees 5' and 59 degrees
Fah.
I saw three kinds of sea-tangle, but could only obtain a specimen of
one, resembling that which I had seen in 44 degrees South lat. The
second kind was not very different, and it was only the third that
had pointed leaves, several of which together formed a sort of fan
several feet long and broad.
On the 30th of January we passed very near the Staten Islands, lying
between 56 and 57 degrees South lat. They are composed of bare high
mountains, and separated from Terra del Fuego by an arm of the sea,
called Le Maire, only seven miles long and about the same distance
across.
The captain told us, seaman-like, that on one occasion of his
sailing through these Straits, his ship had got into a strong
current, and regularly danced, turning round during the passage at
least a thousand times! I had already lost a great deal of
confidence in the captain's tales, but I kept my eye steadily fixed
upon a Hamburgh brig, that happened to be sailing ahead, to see
whether she would dance; but neither she nor our own bark was so
obliging. Neither vessels turned even once, and the only
circumstance worthy of remark was the heaving and foaming of the
waves in the Strait, while at both ends the sea lay majestically
calm before our eyes. We had passed the Strait in an hour, and I
took the liberty of asking the captain why our ship had not danced,
to which he replied that it was because we had had both wind and
current with us. It is, perhaps, possible that under other
circumstances the vessel might have turned round once or twice, but
I strongly doubt its doing so a thousand times. This was, however,
a favourite number with our worthy captain. One of the gentlemen
once asked him some question about the first London hotels, and was
told that it was impossible to remember their names, as there were
above a thousand of the first class.
Near the Strait Le Maire begins, in the opinion of seamen, the
dangerous part of the passage round Cape Horn, and ends off the
Straits of Magellan. Immediately we entered it we were greeted with
two most violent bursts of wind, each of which lasted about half an
hour; they came from the neighbouring icy chasms in the mountains of
Terra del Fuego, and split two sails, and broke the great studding
sail-yard, although the sailors were numerous and quick. The
distance from the end of the Strait Le Maire to the extreme point of
the Cape is calculated to be not more than seventy miles, and yet
this trifling passage cost us three days.
At last, on the 3rd of February, we were fortunate enough to reach
the southernmost point of America, so dreaded by all mariners.
Bare, pointed mountains, one of which looks like a crater that has
fallen in, form the extremity of the mighty mountain-chain, and a
magnificent group of colossal black rocks (basalt?), of all shapes
and sizes, are scattered at some distance in advance, and are
separated only by a small arm of the sea. The extreme point of Cape
Horn is 600 feet high. At this spot, according to our works on
geography, the Atlantic Ocean changes its name and assumes that of
the Pacific. Sailors, however, do not give it the latter
designation before reaching the Straits of Magellan, as up to this
point the sea is continually stormy and agitated, as we learned to
our cost, being driven by violent storms as far back as 60 degrees
South lat. Besides this, we lost our top-mast, which was broken
off, and which, in spite of the heavy sea, had to be replaced; the
vessel, meanwhile, being so tossed about, that we were often unable
to take our meals at the table, but were obliged to squat down upon
the ground, and hold our plates in our hands. On one of these fine
days the steward stumbled with the coffee-pot, and deluged me with
its burning contents. Luckily, only a small portion fell upon my
hands, so that the accident was not a very serious one.
After battling for fourteen days with winds and waves, with rain and
cold, {62} we at last arrived off the western entrance to the
Straits of Magellan, having accomplished the most dangerous portion
of our voyage. During these fourteen days we saw very few whales or
albatrosses, and not one iceberg.
We thought that we should now quietly pursue our way upon the placid
sea, trusting confidently in its peaceful name. For three whole
days we had nothing to complain of; but in the night of the 19th to
the 20th of February, we were overtaken by a storm worthy of the
Atlantic itself, which lasted for nearly twenty-four hours, and cost
us four sails. We suffered most damage from the tremendous waves,
which broke with such fury over the ship, that they tore up one of
the planks of the deck, and let the water into the cargo of sugar.
The deck itself was like a lake, and the portholes had to be opened
in order to get rid of the water more quickly. The water leaked in
the hold at the rate of two inches an hour. We could not light any
fire, and were obliged to content ourselves with bread and cheese
and raw ham, which we with great difficulty conveyed to our mouth as
we sat upon the ground.
The last cask of lamp oil, too, fell a sacrifice to this storm,
having been torn from its fastenings, and broken into pieces. The
captain was very apprehensive of not having enough oil to light the
compass till we arrived at Valparaiso; and all the lamps on the ship
were, in consequence, replaced by candles, and the small quantity of
oil remaining kept for the compass. In spite of all these
annoyances, we kept up our spirits, and even, during the storm, we
could scarcely refrain from laughing at the comical positions we all
fell into whenever we attempted to stand up.
The remainder of the voyage to Valparaiso was calm, but excessively
disagreeable. The captain wished to present a magnificent
appearance on arriving, so that the good people might believe that
wind and waves could not injure his fine vessel. He had the whole
ship painted from top to bottom with oil colours; even the little
doors in the cabins were not spared this infliction. Not content
with creating a most horrible disturbance over our heads, the
carpenter invaded even our cabins, filling all our things with
sawdust and dirt, so that we poor passengers had not a dry or quiet
place of refuge in the whole ship. Just as much as we had been
pleased with Captain Bell's politeness during all the previous part
of the voyage, were we indignant at his behaviour during the last
five or six days. But we could offer no resistance, for the captain
is an autocrat on board his own ship, knowing neither a constitution
nor any other limit to his despotic power.
At 6 o'clock in the morning of the 2nd of March, we ran into the
port of Valparaiso.