Britain, in her superior wisdom, however, decided that as Nicaragua had
no particular use for seaports, they would be better in other hands,
even if _she herself_ should be _compelled_ to assume the protectorate.
The first step necessary to accomplish this magnanimous object was to
find a suitable _sovereign_. She is supposed to have embarked in the
search with her characteristic zeal and energy; it is presumed that the
first inquiries were made at San Juan. At first the prospect of success
was not flattering, but fortunately inquiries were made of a native
Indian, who very innocently informed Her Britannic Majesty’s agent that
his chief was sojourning along the “Mosquito Coast.”
What could have been more opportune? This was precisely the individual
sought; here was a great man, a chief, in actual possession of the
country, i. e., he had actually hunted ’possums there for a period of
six months! The matter was immediately decided upon, and arrangements
made to pay the monarch a visit on the following day, preparatory to his
coronation. Artizans were employed in the manufacture of presents
suitable for one who seemed pointed out by the finger of Providence to
wear the “purple and ermine.” Tin pans were immediately transformed into
crowns and collars, sardine boxes into breast-plates and stars,
pill-boxes into ear and finger-rings, and “extinguishers” into ornaments
for the nose. These, after a revision by chamois and soap-stone, were
safely boxed, that they might not be tarnished by the touch of vulgar
hands. A demijohn was filled with rum--as was supposed, to prevent his
_Majesty_ from fainting under the operation of putting on _his first
pair_ of pantaloons.
Early on the following morning, the ship having been ordered to drop
along down the coast, the party were in motion under the pilotage of the
Indian above mentioned. What momentous results sometimes attend the acts
of individuals in the humble walks of life! This poor Indian, having
been driven to the shore by hunger, had, while making a meal of raw
fish, imparted a word, which single word was the means of bringing forth
to the world a full-grown king. What were the feelings of this native,
as he cut his way through the chaparrals? Had he aspirations? No doubt
he had! In his wild delirium of pleasure, he, no doubt, dreamed of a
canoe of his own, and a raw hide to sleep on; instead of going naked, as
he had done all his life, he might have a red bandana to tie around his
neck; he thought of abundance of broiled lizard, with plantain cooked in
’possum fat for dessert. With such bright visions in the future, it is
not astonishing that, in wading swamps and cutting through chaparrals,
he distanced those under his pilotage.
Nor was there a want of zeal on the part of Her Britannic Majesty’s
agent. He too had aspirations. He was on a mission which, if successful,
must result in incalculable benefit to the world in general, and to Her
Britannic Majesty’s government _in particular_. If successful,
knighthood was the least he could expect, with the prospect of a niche,
eventually, in Westminster Abbey.
Never were mortals more eager for immortality, nor was it ever more
clearly within their reach; for even now, at this point in the drama,
the very dogs of his _Majesty_ seemed to proclaim it--the _royal_
encampment was in sight. The party deployed into a single file, and
prepared to approach _the presence_. They took the _monarch_ by
surprise; he was stretched out at full length, on a “highly-scented” raw
hide, under the shade of a palm-tree, as naked as he came into the
world. He was amusing himself by trying to “get up” a fight between a
parrot and a young monkey; his squaw was broiling a couple of lizards or
_guanas_, and roasting plantains for dinner.
The interview was at first embarrassing, but after consulting the
demijohn, they seemed imbued with a more fraternizing _spirit_, and
commenced conversation on the subject of empire, and the prerogative of
kings. Her Britannic Majesty’s agent felt himself a man of importance,
and at first seemed somewhat patronizing; but the _monarch_ had
consulted the demijohn too often to be outdone, and, as a proof of his
invincibility, he exhibited a huge turtle, which had fallen a victim to
his _machet_; he had climbed a tree that none of his men could climb,
and caught sixteen “’possums,” all hanging by the same tail from the
same limb; he had taken his biggest dog by the tail, and swung him
around his head three times, and declared he would do it again for their
amusement. “Carlo” was immediately seized by the tail, but feeling a
little sensitive, he curled up, bit
[Illustration: G. V. COOPER DEL.
ON STONE BY J. CAMERON
LITH. OF G. W. LEWIS, 111 NASSAU ST. N. Y.
THE HARBOUR AT SAN JUAN,
_NICARAGUA_.]
his master, and escaped. This led to a spirited foot-race, and as
“Carlo” dodged, the _monarch_ slipped, his head coming in contact with
the root of a tree. He seemed _discouraged_, and made no effort to
regain his feet. The Englishman felt that he had committed a _faux pas_
in allowing him free access to the demijohn, and resolved to defer
negotiations until the following day. He immediately repaired to the
shore, and hoisted a signal for the ship’s boat.
On the following morning, the boat was again sent ashore, with an
invitation for the _monarch_ to visit Her Majesty’s ship. Feeling as
individuals will feel _next day_, he _graciously_ accepted the
invitation. A detail of what transpired on board has never been made
public, _reporters_ having been excluded. In the afterpart of the day an
unusual demonstration was made, flags were displayed, cannon fired, and
as the band struck up “Hail to the Chief,” an individual was seen
descending the side of the ship, with a tin crown on his head, and a
pair of red flannel pantaloons under his arm. On reaching the boat he
took his position astride a barrel of rum, and moved toward the shore in
triumph, having been crowned “King of the Mosquito Coast.” All hail,
Jamaca I.!!! It is well known that Great Britain immediately recognized
the government, and assumed the protectorate; hence the presence of the
“red cross” at San Juan.
The distance from San Juan to Realejo is about three hundred miles.
Passengers going the Nicaragua route now take a steamboat at San Juan,
which runs up to the Castilian Rapids; then, after a portage of half a
mile, another steamboat takes them up the river to San Carlos; thence
across Lake Nicaragua to Virgin Bay. Then by pack-mules they are taken
to San Juan del Sud, on the Pacific. The distances on the river and lake
are about equal, being about seventy-five miles each, and from twelve to
fifteen miles by land. There is every facility for crossing here, there
being several steamboats plying on the river and lake. Steamships enter
the mouth of the San Juan River, and the river boats come along side,
consequently passengers incur no expense in the transfer, and are not
obliged to land, as the small steamboats take them immediately up the
river. This route has the advantage, in distance, over the Panama route,
of about one thousand miles; still, the passage from San Francisco to
New York has, as yet, been accomplished in the shortest time by way of
Panama.
Now, dear reader, having finished my business here, I am ready to
return. I will not trouble you to make the journey back to Realejo in a
cart, but as I promised to accompany you, we will take one
_psychological_ leap, and salute our national flag in the main plaza of
San Francisco.
[Illustration: G. V. COOPER DEL.
ON STONE BY J. CAMERON
LITH. OF G. W. LEWIS, 111 NASSAU ST. N. Y.
CASTLE AT ACAPULCO.]
Chapter Twenty-eighth.
SAIL FOR HOME--PASS THE “GOLDEN GATE,”--SAD CONDITION OF THE
PASSENGERS--GRAVES AT THE BASE OF THE SNOWY MOUNTAINS--LAND
RECEDES--LUXURIES ON BOARD--A DEATH AND BURIAL--ANOTHER
DEATH--WHALES AND PORPOISES _versus_ SERPENTS OF FIRE--THUNDER
STORM--DEATH OF DOCTOR REED--THREE DEAD BODIES FOUND ON BOARD--THE
SCURVY--FIVE OF THE PASSENGERS INSANE--EVILS OF THE CREDIT
SYSTEM--A CULTIVATED MIND DERANGED--MEMORY LOST--ITS CAUSE--THE
VICTIM UPON THE VERGE OF DEATH--HARPOONING PORPOISES--EXCITING
SPORT.
I had designed to leave San Francisco for home in the steamer of the 1st
December, and had purchased my ticket with that view; but the steamer,
being a foreign bottom, was unable to clear for another port in
California, and having but small capacity for coal, I feared detention,
and was induced to sell my ticket, and take passage in the ship Edward
Everett, which was to sail on the 28th November, and which, I felt
confident, would reach Panama in advance of the steamer. We were
notified to be on board at 9 A.M.; and when Mr. Fairchild and myself
reached the shore with our baggage, we saw the ship two miles out just
preparing to swing from her moorings. We engaged two hardy “tars,” and
were soon pulling off for her; we threaded our way through the shipping,
and were doing our utmost as we saw the anchor of the Everett already
up, her foresail aback, and she “turning on her heel,” preparatory to
standing out to sea. We boarded her as she was under way. We passed the
clippership Architect, which was just weighing anchor for Valparaiso;
the captains saluted each other through their trumpets, and we passed on
through the Golden Gate, with a fair breeze, assisted by the unerring
ebb tide. The passengers, eighty in number, were all on deck to take a
last look at the receding landscape.
It had been but a few short days since they first beheld this
scene--since they first entered through this “Gate,” into the land of
promise. They now look upon the same narrow passage, the same bold
rocky coast, they had looked for with so much anxiety, and greeted with
so much enthusiasm. But how different the feelings now! what a change!
They were then accompanied by a brother or a friend, with high hopes and
vigorous constitutions, looking forward with brilliant anticipations.
But now the brother and friend are sleeping quietly at the base of
yonder snow-capped mountain, and they are bearing the sad intelligence
to the bereaved parents, brothers, and sisters. Instead of the vigorous
constitutions, they are obliged to cling to the rigging for support,
while they gaze for the last time upon the scene. With many it is the
last time they are to view such a scene; their eyes are about to close
upon the earth forever, to sleep beneath the bosom of the ocean. Many
have not only sacrificed health, but are destitute of means, and are now
reeling about the ship, endeavoring to earn their passage by their
labor. Our ship seemed a hospital; three-fourths of all the passengers
were invalids, some of them helpless. We drifted away before the wind,
the mountains gradually disappearing from the horizon; one had lingered
long, but as we descended from the crest of a mountain wave, we bid _it_
also, a last farewell. We spent the afternoon in adjusting our baggage,
and the night in sleep; the morning dawned brightly--we were still under
a full press of canvas, with a fair wind. All on board had taken passage
under the impression that the accommodations were superior, for which
they had paid extra. We consequently felt that we were well provided
for, and fairly embarked on our voyage home. As usual the first day at
sea, but little attention was paid to the cook, the passengers remaining
cozily ensconced in their berths.
The 30th was ushered in with a fine breeze, and we were standing on our
course. At noon we found the table supplied with hard bread
(sea-biscuit) and salt beef, dainties that our stomachs did not relish;
the same table was kept standing for supper. Captain Smith was
interrogated in reference to his supply of provisions, for which we had
paid him extra; he replied that he was abundantly supplied with the
above, which, if we chose, we could have served up every day during the
voyage; when too late, we learned that the delicacies for the sick, with
which he had by public notice proclaimed his ship abundantly supplied,
were “_non est_.” He had not even a pound of fruit on board; the
invalids felt this privation most sensibly many of whom had come on
board without supplies, having been led to believe by advertisements,
that the ship had been furnished with a direct view to the comforts of
those returning in ill-health. From the fare with which our table was
supplied, it was impossible for a weak stomach to extract sufficient
nutriment to sustain life. This was soon manifest, as those who were
destitute immediately commenced to decline, and were soon confined to
their berths. We could plainly see that the lives of some were fast
ebbing away.
On the 6th December, in lat,. 22° 50´, North, it was announced that G.
W. Ray, of Maine, was dead. He died at 10 A.M.; the gang-plank was
placed, one end extending over the side of the ship, supported by the
rail, the other supported by a cask, over this was thrown a piece of
canvas, upon which was placed the corpse. A rope was tied around the
body; thence, passing down was tied around the ancles, and to the end
was attached a canvas bag, filled with sand. The body was then sewed up
in the canvas, over which was thrown the ensign of California. The
passengers now surround the corpse, with heads uncovered. A prayer is
read by the captain, the ensign is removed, and at the word one end of
the plank is raised, and the body passes gently into its grave. We are
under a full press of canvas with an eight knot breeze; the last bubble
rises to the surface, and the wind passes mournfully through the
shrouds, as if sighing his last requiem.
At 8 P.M., of the same day, another death was announced. Deceased, Mr.
Cook, was a young man from Sag Harbor, where he left a wife and child.
One hour after the announcement of his death, he was consigned to the
grave, that had so recently opened to receive his unfortunate companion.
He was buried in Lat. 20° 50´, N.
We were surrounded during the day (7th) by whales and porpoises, and
during the evening, as they would pass through the “luminous
animalculæ,” they would present the appearance of enormous serpents of
fire. On the 8th we were visited by a terrific thunder storm,
accompanied by heavy winds. We run under close-reefed topsails; and when
the storm clears up we find the wind dead ahead, and are obliged to run
several days sharp on the wind.
On the morning of the 14th another death was announced; the deceased,
Dr. Reed, of Massachusetts, had been, for some days, conscious of his
approaching end, and manifested a strong desire to have his remains
conveyed to his friends. This was his last and almost only request; the
fear that this might not be complied with seemed to linger with him to
the last, and died only with his last pulsation. He received some
encouragement from the captain, but one short hour after his death, he
followed his unfortunate companions to the grave. He was buried in Lat
16° 3’ N.
A report is in circulation that there are dead bodies on board. On
inquiry, we learn that there are three--a man, a woman and child; they
were preserved in casks of spirits, and being conveyed to the States.
This created the greatest consternation in the minds of the sailors, and
they unanimously resolved to leave the ship at the first port. They have
a superstitious idea that vessels cannot be safely navigated with dead
bodies on board. Many of the passengers were confined to their berths,
some of them destined never again to leave them, until removed by death.
The scurvy had appeared in its worst form, and there was nothing on
board to relieve its victims. The food served out was most execrable;
those in robust health were pining away, and for the invalids, there was
no hope. Among the latter there were five who were deranged; they were
all confined to their berths, and seemed waiting to be relieved by
death. There is a physician on board, (whose father and captain Smith
are sole owners of the ship), his services, however, are not at the
disposition of all. The captain has flour, but pretends it does not
belong to the ship, and refuses to serve it out to the passengers. He,
however, offered to sell it, and two or three of us joined and bought a
quantity of him, together with a quantity of sugar; all to be paid for
in Panama, at Panama prices, and for all of which we _never had the most
distant idea_ of paying him a farthing. We hired the cook to prepare it
for us, and thereafter were well served. With this supply, we were in a
condition to invite the invalids to our table, where we could furnish
them something more palatable than sea-biscuit and salt beef.
My attention was attracted to one of the passengers, who, upon my
inquiring for Spanish books, offered me one of Spanish comedy; there was
something polished in his manners, yet something wayward, which very
much excited my interest. His clothes were good, still, in his
helplessness, they had become extremely filthy. He commenced
conversation, but soon stopped for a moment, as if trying to recollect
himself; and said he believed he had entirely lost his mind, that his
ideas were so incoherent, he feared he could not make himself
understood. He first inquired where the ship was bound; I informed him,
and asked him how he came on board. He did not know, but said he was
informed that he was to be sent home; he did not know why, nor from whom
he received the information. He wished me to converse with him, and try
to set him right; he gave me the keys to his trunks, and wished me to
open them. I found them stored with clothing of the best quality,
together with a well selected library of books, mathematical
instruments, and materials for drawing: everything indicating a man of
refinement and education. In his writing desk I found a patriotic poem,
composed and read by him, on board the ship in which he sailed for
California: on the anniversary of our national independence. I also
found a daguerreotype; the sight of this seemed to awaken pleasing
emotions. It contained the portraits of a lady and child; these he
recognized as his wife and little daughter. By the sight of these, he
was at first overcome; his wife appeared natural to him, but he had not
the most distant idea of the age of his little daughter; he wondered if
it was of a sufficient age, when he left home, to call him father, and
whether it would remember and greet him when he returned. He now
realized, most painfully, the gloom that hung like a pall over his
memory. The sight of the articles as I would take them out, seemed to
call up others, by association. The sight of rifle and pistol-balls
reminded him that he had, somewhere, a rifle and revolver, where, he did
not know. I requested him to run back in his memory, if possible, to the
time when he first became deranged. He said that he was attacked with
the fever at Benicia, and carried on board a ship that was then lying at
anchor. There were several sick on board, and during his sickness, one
was brought and placed on a table in front of his berth. He watched him
day after day, until one night, as the light fell dimly on his pallid
features, a slight convulsion passed over him, and his jaw fell. This
closed the scene; from this moment his mind had been wandering in the
dark labyrinths of forgetfulness. The fever had left him, and given
place to that dreaded malady, the scurvy, with which he had now become
reduced almost to helplessness. His feet and limbs were swollen to
double their usual size, their purple hue denoting the fearful state to
which his system was reduced. The name of this unfortunate man was E. W.
Clark, Jr., of West Boylston, Mass. He gave me his name, and the address
of his friends, at a time when he had but little hope of ever seeing
them, with the request that I should write them the particulars of his
death.
On the 16th, we were surrounded by porpoises; our first mate being an
old harpooner, descended into the martingale of the ship, his harpoon
being attached to a rope which passed through a tackle-block above, and
was manned by about thirty passengers. At the first plunge of the ship,
he “let go” the harpoon, taking effect in the back of a porpoise; “haul
away,” and the huge monster was swinging in the air. This was a moment
of intense excitement; the harpoon had passed almost through the body,
but in hauling him from the water, it had drawn out, holding only to a
half-inch of the skin. One struggle and he would have been released; but
the auspicious moment passed, and at the word “ease away,” he was safely
_shipped_ on our forecastle deck. His struggles now were fearful; his
throes causing the very spars to tremble. He strikes another and
another, both of which are safely drawn on board. He strikes a fourth,
and after hauling it several feet from the water, it falls from the
harpoon and rushes through the water, staining its wake with blood. We
are now well supplied with fish, but of a kind not calculated to tempt
the appetite.
Chapter Twenty-ninth.
CLOUD AND CLIPPERTON ISLANDS--WHALES, SHARKS, PORPOISES, AND
DOLPHINS--A SHARK CAPTURED--SHARK STEAK--“CAUDLE LECTURE”--DEATH OF
SAMUEL B. LEWIS--A CALM--FOOT RACES BY THE SHIP’S
FURNITURE--PASSENGER PECULIARITIES--SHORT OF PROVISIONS--“BOUT
SHIP”--FIRST OF JANUARY--ITS LUXURIES AT SEA--A TAME SEA-FOWL--A
PASSENGER DYING--A SHARK--A DELIGHTFUL EVENING SCENE--A
DEATH--BURIAL AT SEA BY CANDLE LIGHT--A TURTLE NAVIGATING THE
OCEAN--HIS SUSPICIOUS CONDUCT--A WRITTEN PROTEST AGAINST THE
CAPTAIN--COCUS ISLAND--CAPTURING “BOOBIES.”
On the 17th, we passed under the lea of Cloud island--lat. 19°, long.
103°. 21st; passed Clipperton island, lat. 11°, long. 103°. The air is
filled with sea-fowl; the island is a rocky pile, having the appearance
of a dilapidated castle; and is surrounded by a low sandy beach. We are
surrounded by whales, sharks, porpoises and dolphins; our first mate
strikes a porpoise at midnight, and it is hauled on deck by the crew.
On the 22d, the mate struck a shark; it was hauled on deck, and we had
shark-steak for breakfast. All out with the captain, and the lectures he
receives are only equalled by those of the amiable “Mrs. Caudle.” He
finds himself wofully in the minority, and confines himself to his
state-room. We not only charge the adverse winds to his account, but the
destitution of the ship; of his guilt of the latter charge, the jury
were unanimous.
24th. The death of Samuel B. Lewis is announced. He was buried at 9
A.M., lat. 6°-12´ north. He was from Elmira, N. Y., where he leaves a
widowed mother to mourn his untimely death. On my return, I learned that
subsequent to his starting for California, his father was accidently
killed; the mother wrote for her son; he was her only solace; upon him
she leaned for consolation; but on a dreary night, as the wind howled
mournfully without, she dreamed her son returned, and as she was about
to clasp him to her bosom, he shrunk from her sight and disappeared
forever.
We have a calm for several days with intense heat; a general
restlessness is felt, passengers are out of patience; our ship has not
sufficient headway to cause her to mind the tiller; she rolls about like
a log, now plunging, throwing her sails all aback, now rising on a sea,
the rigging slackens, the spars and yards creak, the sails again fill,
and everything is again drawn to its utmost tension; she again plunges,
reers, and rises lengthwise of a sea; she careens and is thrown almost
upon her “beam-ends.” Trunks change sides, tables stand on their heads,
barrels get up foot-races, much to the annoyance of the passengers, who,
with shins in hand, enter most vehement protests, throwing in, an
occasional oath by way of emphasis. Jack “yarns” on the forecastle, Tom
has out a shark-hook; the cook has been mast-headed by the captain;
T----n comes down from the shrouds with a “damn my shirt-tail _to_
h--l,” looks at his boots and goes up again; Wright exclaims,
“certingly.” Palmly looks from under his quaker hat, and swears at the
captain; the Dutchman, with red whiskers, opens his mouth, which very
much resembles a cavity in a brick-kiln; he looks an oath in Dutch, but
don’t speak. To calm our ruffled passions we were informed that we were
short of provisions, and were to be put upon allowance.
On the 28th, the captain gave the order, “bout ship,” and we stood in
for the main land, 550 miles distant, lat. 6°, long. 96°. On the 29th, a
fine breeze springs up, we again change our course and stand east, in
the direction of Panama.