THE DOG-DAYS OFF CAPE HORN.
Colder and colder; we are drawing nigh to the Cape. Now gregoes, pea
jackets, monkey jackets reefing jackets, storm jackets, oil jackets,
paint jackets, round jackets short jackets, long jackets, and all
manner of jackets, are the order of the day, not excepting the immortal
white jacket, which begins to be sturdily buttoned up to the throat,
and pulled down vigorously at the skirts, to bring them well over the
loins.
But, alas! those skirts were lamentably scanty; and though, with its
quiltings, the jacket was stuffed out about the breasts like a
Christmas turkey, and of a dry cold day kept the wearer warm enough in
that vicinity, yet about the loins it was shorter than ballet-dancer’s
skirts; so that while my chest was in the temperate zone close
adjoining the torrid, my hapless thighs were in Nova Zembla, hardly an
icicle’s toss from the Pole.
Then, again, the repeated soakings and dryings it had undergone, had by
this time made it shrink woefully all over, especially in the arms, so
that the wristbands had gradually crawled up near to the elbows; and it
required an energetic thrust to push the arm through, in drawing the
jacket on.
I endeavoured to amend these misfortunes by sewing a sort of canvas
ruffle round the skirts, by way of a continuation or supplement to the
original work, and by doing the same with the wristbands.
This is the time for oil-skin suits, dread-naughts, tarred trowsers and
overalls, sea-boots, comforters, mittens, woollen socks, Guernsey
frocks, Havre shirts, buffalo-robe shirts, and moose-skin drawers.
Every man’s jacket is his wigwam, and every man’s hat his caboose.
Perfect license is now permitted to the men respecting their clothing.
Whatever they can rake and scrape together they put on—swaddling
themselves in old sails, and drawing old socks over their heads for
night-caps. This is the time for smiting your chest with your hand, and
talking loud to keep up the circulation.
Colder, and colder, and colder, till at last we spoke a fleet of
icebergs bound North. After that, it was one incessant “_cold snap_,”
that almost snapped off our fingers and toes. Cold! It was cold as
_Blue Flujin_, where sailors say fire freezes.
And now coming up with the latitude of the Cape, we stood southward to
give it a wide berth, and while so doing were becalmed; ay, becalmed
off Cape Horn, which is worse, far worse, than being becalmed on the
Line.
Here we lay forty-eight hours, during which the cold was intense. I
wondered at the liquid sea, which refused to freeze in such a
temperature. The clear, cold sky overhead looked like a steel-blue
cymbal, that might ring, could you smite it. Our breath came and went
like puffs’ of smoke from pipe-bowls. At first there was a long gauky
swell, that obliged us to furl most of the sails, and even send down
t’-gallant-yards, for fear of pitching them overboard.
Out of sight of land, at this extremity of both the inhabitable and
uninhabitable world, our peopled frigate, echoing with the voices of
men, the bleating of lambs, the cackling of fowls, the gruntings of
pigs, seemed like Noah’s old ark itself, becalmed at the climax of the
Deluge.
There was nothing to be done but patiently to await the pleasure of the
elements, and “whistle for a wind,” the usual practice of seamen in a
calm. No fire was allowed, except for the indispensable purpose of
cooking, and heating bottles of water to toast Selvagee’s feet. He who
possessed the largest stock of vitality, stood the best chance to
escape freezing. It was horrifying. In such weather any man could have
undergone amputation with great ease, and helped take up the arteries
himself.
Indeed, this state of affairs had not lasted quite twenty-four hours,
when the extreme frigidity of the air, united to our increased tendency
to inactivity, would very soon have rendered some of us subjects for
the surgeon and his mates, had not a humane proceeding of the Captain
suddenly impelled us to vigorous exercise.
And here be it said, that the appearance of the Boat-swain, with his
silver whistle to his mouth, at the main hatchway of the gun-deck, is
always regarded by the crew with the utmost curiosity, for this
betokens that some general order is about to be promulgated through the
ship. What now? is the question that runs on from man to man. A short
preliminary whistle is then given by “Old Yarn,” as they call him,
which whistle serves to collect round him, from their various stations,
his four mates. Then Yarn, or Pipes, as leader of the orchestra, begins
a peculiar call, in which his assistants join. This over, the order,
whatever it may be, is loudly sung out and prolonged, till the remotest
corner echoes again. The Boatswain and his mates are the town-criers of
a man-of-war.
The calm had commenced in the afternoon: and the following morning the
ship’s company were electrified by a general order, thus set forth and
declared: “_D’ye hear there, for and aft! all hands skylark!_”
This mandate, nowadays never used except upon very rare occasions,
produced the same effect upon the men that Exhilarating Gas would have
done, or an extra allowance of “grog.” For a time, the wonted
discipline of the ship was broken through, and perfect license allowed.
It was a Babel here, a Bedlam there, and a Pandemonium everywhere. The
Theatricals were nothing compared with it. Then the faint-hearted and
timorous crawled to their hiding-places, and the lusty and bold shouted
forth their glee.
Gangs of men, in all sorts of outlandish habiliments, wild as those
worn at some crazy carnival, rushed to and fro, seizing upon whomsoever
they pleased—warrant-officers and dangerous pugilists excepted—pulling
and hauling the luckless tars about, till fairly baited into a genial
warmth. Some were made fast to and hoisted aloft with a will: others,
mounted upon oars, were ridden fore and aft on a rail, to the
boisterous mirth of the spectators, any one of whom might be the next
victim. Swings were rigged from the tops, or the masts; and the most
reluctant wights being purposely selected, spite of all struggles, were
swung from East to West, in vast arcs of circles, till almost
breathless. Hornpipes, fandangoes, Donnybrook-jigs, reels, and
quadrilles, were danced under the very nose of the most mighty captain,
and upon the very quarter-deck and poop. Sparring and wrestling, too,
were all the vogue; _Kentucky bites_ were given, and the _Indian hug_
exchanged. The din frightened the sea-fowl, that flew by with
accelerated wing.
It is worth mentioning that several casualties occurred, of which,
however, I will relate but one. While the “sky-larking” was at its
height, one of the fore-top-men—an ugly-tempered devil of a Portuguese,
looking on—swore that he would be the death of any man who laid violent
hands upon his inviolable person. This threat being overheard, a band
of desperadoes, coming up from behind, tripped him up in an instant,
and in the twinkling of an eye the Portuguese was straddling an oar,
borne aloft by an uproarious multitude, who rushed him along the deck
at a railroad gallop. The living mass of arms all round and beneath him
was so dense, that every time he inclined one side he was instantly
pushed upright, but only to fall over again, to receive another push
from the contrary direction. Presently, disengaging his hands from
those who held them, the enraged seaman drew from his bosom an iron
belaying-pin, and recklessly laid about him to right and left. Most of
his persecutors fled; but some eight or ten still stood their ground,
and, while bearing him aloft, endeavoured to wrest the weapon from his
hands. In this attempt, one man was struck on the head, and dropped
insensible. He was taken up for dead, and carried below to Cuticle, the
surgeon, while the Portuguese was put under guard. But the wound did
not prove very serious; and in a few days the man was walking about the
deck, with his head well bandaged.
This occurrence put an end to the “skylarking,” further head-breaking
being strictly prohibited. In due time the Portuguese paid the penalty
of his rashness at the gangway; while once again the officers _shipped
their quarter-deck faces_.