Our home on board the Fanchon was all the most fastidious could desire.
Captain Lunt was possessed of all those gentlemanly attributes which are
calculated to win the possessor friends, and respect from all with whom
he associates. Ever joyous and light-hearted, the salutary effects
produced by the exercise of these excellent properties seemed to
pervade the hearts of all subject to his control. He also being a
judicious disciplinarian, the greatest neatness and order imaginable
prevailed throughout the ship. Our fancied security--our sanguine
expectations that our troubles from fire at sea were at an end--our
hopes of a safe and speedy termination of our voyage--all these
heart-cheering feelings were sustained and strengthened by reiterated
assurances from Captain Lunt that there was no danger whatever of the
Fanchon’s burning, she was so well ventilated. In fact, he attributed
the destruction of the other ships to want of proper ventilation.
Besides, he argued, that if there had been the least probability of its
taking fire, it would have done so long ago. We all conceded his
arguments were decidedly conclusive; and, for a few days, anxiety, fear,
suspense, and all the attendant train of harrowing reflections, were
strangers to my bosom. But as frail and fleeting as are all the
evanescent joys of earth were my hopes. On the 25th of December, in the
evening, as we sat conversing of the day, and the manner in which they
were celebrating it at our far distant homes, and vainly wishing that,
by another Christmas, our places in the family circle would not be
vacant, a puff of air was wafted into the cabin, so strongly
impregnated with gas as to render the conviction certain in my mind,
that the coal was on fire. I speedily gave utterance to my fears, which
met with a responsive “Pshaw! you have inhaled and smelt gas so often,
it has become accessory to your very being.”
They failed, however, in eradicating from my mind the impression that
the coal was on fire. Upon retiring for the night, the thought of being,
for the third time, on board a burning ship, so harassed me as to
completely banish slumber from my pillow. Next morning, the captain
instituted a search throughout the ship, which proved, beyond a doubt in
his mind, there could be no fire. We were now about twelve hundred miles
from land, with a fair wind, on the direct course for San Francisco.
Things remained in this state for two or three days. I cannot affirm
that the minds of _all_ were perfectly free from apprehension; yet, as
strict watch was kept, and nothing except that disagreeable smell of gas
was apparent to confirm my fears, I felt a little more at rest. The
third day, as Capt. Lunt was watching one of the large ventilators on
deck, he saw something having the appearance of smoke escaping
therefrom. He sprang down between decks--there was no appearance of
smoke or fire whatever; raised the lower hatch--all appeared as usual.
He then ordered the second mate to dig down into the coal, and soon
proofs beyond a doubt were too apparent. The coal was so hot, it could
not be taken in the hand. The whole body of coal, two or three feet
below the surface, was red hot. The same preparations for a life on
board a burning ship were again repeated that it had been my fortune
twice previously to witness. In this instance, we had not to contend
with the elements of wind and water as well as fire; for the ocean, at
times, was as smooth and transparent as a glass. For a time, Captain
Lunt shaped his course for the Galapagos Islands, what wind there was
being favorable to waft us in that direction; and, our distance from the
islands and the main-land being nearly equal, he was undecided for some
time which port would be our destination. Being within the tropics, the
weather was exceedingly pleasant--almost too much so for our benefit.
For several days in succession, it would remain perfectly calm. The
nights were beautifully serene; not a cloud, or the slightest film of
vapor, appeared on the face of the deep blue canopy of the heavens. The
moon, and countless starry host of the firmament, exhibited their
lustrous splendor in a perfection of brilliancy unknown to the
night-watchers in the humid regions of the Atlantic. The ship would be
lying listlessly upon the surface of the unbroken waste of waters, while
our minds were constantly agitated between hope and fear,--hope, that
each morn, as the golden orb of day appeared rising from old ocean’s
bosom, that, ere she bid us farewell at eve, some welcome sail would
come to the rescue; and fear, as each returning day numbered
disappointed hopes, and increased the heat on ship-board, that we were
indeed a doomed crew.
At night, signal-lights were kept burning, in the hope of attracting the
attention of some vessel which might be passing. For days look-outs were
stationed aloft, and more than once were our ears gladdened with the
joyful cry of “Sail, ho!” which as often proved a vain illusion. The
strained vision and anxious solicitude of those on the look-out caused
them to imagine they saw that which they vainly desired to behold.
I was induced, by the entreaties and advice of my husband, seconded by
those of Captain Lunt, to adopt gentlemen’s apparel. Considering the
danger and exposure we might be subjected to, should we be compelled to
remain any length of time in the boats,--to which, unless relief
arrived from some other source, we should resort to soon,--it was not,
everything considered, a bad idea, which might never have been carried
into effect had Capt. Lunt been as large in stature as my husband.
Accordingly, from the captain’s wardrobe was selected a pair of black
pants, a green hunting-coat, black satin vest, bosom, and collar worn à
la Byron, and a purple velvet smoking-cap. Arrayed in this garb, I was
scarcely recognizable by my friends on board. Days came and passed, and
yet no relief appeared. Daily, convincing proofs appeared to warn us of
the slow but sure destruction of the ship, in the form of gas and smoke,
which were escaping through every seam. The beautiful paint-work and
gilding of the cabin assumed the darkest hue; everything on board seemed
shrouded in the sable habiliments of mourning. Slowly and gradually we
neared the land; and, after three weeks of intense suspense and
solicitude, the exulting cry of “Land, ho!” was echoed far and near. It
was an uninhabited part of the coast of Peru--a small bay, or, rather,
indenture made in at this place, called the Bay of Sechura. Into this
bay the ship was guided; and, when about two miles from shore, she was
brought to an anchor, at about four o’clock, P.M. As soon as the
wished-for haven appeared, I hastened to my state-room, and doffed my
male attire, supremely happy to exchange what I had so reluctantly
adopted, and what each succeeding day of usage rendered still more
distasteful. Rest assured, O ye of the opposite sex, that I, for one,
will never attempt to appropriate to myself the indispensables, or the
love of lordly power which usually accompanies them, but leave _you_ in
undisputed possession of your rights!
Long before we reached our anchorage, the roaring of the surf, as it
dashed upon the lonely beach, sounded like a mournful dirge to our ears.
There appeared to be a short stretch of sandy beach, circumscribed by
high and jutting rocks. Around us, on either side, were innumerable
breakers, threatening destruction as we approached nearer; yet we heeded
not our dangerous proximity to sunken rocks, but the noble ship bounded
gayly over the waters, unmindful of the destiny awaiting the doomed.
In the distance could be discerned the Andes Mountains, rearing their
lofty heads in silent grandeur, and seeming to penetrate the blue dome
of the o’er-arching heavens. Immediately upon bringing the ship to an
anchor, preparations were made to effect a landing in the boats.
Captain Lunt and my husband deposited their nautical instruments and
charts, and some few articles of clothing, in a chest which they had
rendered as nearly water-proof as possible, and consigned it to one of
the boats. We threw overboard all the spare spars upon deck, and
everything that would float. We had no provisions or water to take on
shore, and had been refreshed with none through the day. There was one
pig on board that had left Baltimore in the ship, and one hen. These,
together with my pet-goat, the sailors took under their own immediate
protection, and succeeded in landing them on the beach. The pig, in the
height of his terror, beat an instantaneous retreat into one of the
numerous caves, or recesses, situated at the base of perpendicular
cliffs, which rose nearly two hundred feet, and presented an effectual
barrier to any attempt that might be made to scale them. I recollect
distinctly my sensations on leaving the ship in a boat; how intently I
watched the foaming surf we were fast approaching, and which had already
engulfed the boat in advance; then an indistinct recollection of roaring
and splashing of water,--of voices heard above the din of all, giving
directions,--of being dragged, minus bonnet and shawl, through the
surf
[Illustration: BURNING OF THE FANCHON ON THE COAST OF PERU.]
upon the sandy beach. Of my very unceremonious introduction within the
precincts of the province of Peru, I have no very pleasing
recollections. After removing everything off the ship’s deck, they ran
her still nearer in, and scuttled her; but the fire had made such
progress, it was impossible to save her. In two hours after we left her
deck, she burst out into a sheet of flame. The fire caught to the sails,
which were spread to the breeze, and she was a sheet of fire to the
mast-heads. Here, in this lonely bay, lay the fine ship Fanchon, and
burnt to the water’s edge. Nothing could exceed the almost awful
profoundness of the solitude by which we were surrounded--a silence
broken only by the roaring and crackling of the flames, as they wreathed
and shot far upward, illuminating the midnight darkness, and casting the
reflection of their fiery glare far out over the lonely deep,--and the
deep roar of the eternally restless waves, as they dashed in rapid
succession upon the beach at our feet. It is quite impossible to convey
by language an adequate conception of the solemn magnificence of this
midnight scene. The burning ship in the foreground, the light from which
revealed the sublime altitude of the mountains in the background, whose
barren heads seemed to pierce the sky, every object distinctly
daguerreotyped; the rocks on either hand, laved for ages by the white
sea-foam; the bald and inaccessible cliffs in close proximity, in the
rear; and twenty-six human beings (myself numbering the only female)
standing upon the narrow beach, viewing silently the work of
destruction, rapidly progressing, which deprived us of a home, and the
necessary sustenance required to support life,--only a skilful artist,
with his pencil and brush, could do justice to the picture here drawn.
By three o’clock that night, nought remained to mark the spot--where, a
few hours previous, lay the gallant ship--but a smoking hulk.
I sank into an unquiet slumber superinduced by exhaustion, fairly cried
myself to sleep, and rested my weary limbs upon a couch of beach-sand.
Next morning, we discovered several rafts (or, as they are there
denominated, balsas) coming into the bay. They were covered with
Indians--a sort of mongrel race, who live principally upon their balsas,
scarcely ever visiting the shore except to procure water and potatoes.
They subsist mostly upon raw fish. They speak the Spanish language. They
anchored their crafts outside the surf, then dove into the water, and
swam to the shore. They were nearly in a state of nudity. Their
demeanor was entirely pacific. They advanced towards us with hands
extended, in token of friendship. They had been attracted to the spot by
the light from the burning ship, and had assembled in considerable
numbers, doubtless in the hope of obtaining pillage, as they rather
demurred in rendering any assistance, unless stimulated by a promise of
compensation. For “mucha pesos,” they agreed to furnish us with water
and sweet potatoes while we remained upon the beach. They peremptorily
refused to take us to Payta,--the nearest settlement, which was fifty
miles distant,--thinking, doubtless, it would be a more profitable
speculation for them to protract our stay upon the beach, until, at
least, the “pesos” were all gone. I was constrained to offer my pet-goat
to them, in exchange for water: she had long since ceased to furnish
milk. Poor thing! after having encountered so many fiery trials, she was
but a wreck of her former self. Much as I regretted to part with her, I
felt it to be a duty I owed her, for past favors received, to mitigate
her woes as far as it lay in my power. With a last, sad, lingering look
at her mistress, and a despairing farewell bleat, she was dragged away.
The natives informed us we were fifteen leagues from any fresh water;
thereby giving us to understand that we were very dependent mortals.
They then departed, promising to come on the morrow with a fresh supply.
Their balsas are constructed of very buoyant, porous logs, bound
together in the form of a raft; then another layer, transverse the
former. In the centre, it is raised still higher.