The ship--The crew--A hurricane--Cape Verde Islands--Frio--A _pampeiro_.
CHAPTER II: PAGE 8
Montevideo--Beggars--Antonina for maté--Antonina to Buenos Aires--The
_bombelia_.
CHAPTER III: PAGE 11
Salvage of a cargo of wine--Sailors happy--Cholera in the
Argentine--Death in the land--Dutch Harry--Pete the Greek--Noted
crimps--Boat lost--Sail for Ilha Grande--Expelled from the port--Serious
hardships.
CHAPTER IV: PAGE 20
Ilha Grande decree--Return to Rosario--Waiting opening of the Brazilian
ports--Scarcity of sailors--Buccaneers turned pilots--Sail down the
river--Arrive at Ilha Grande the second time--Quarantined and
fumigated--Admitted to _pratique_--Sail for Rio--Again challenged--Rio
at last.
CHAPTER V: PAGE 27
At Rio--Sail for Antonina with mixed cargo--A _pampeiro_--Ship on
beam-ends--Cargo still more mixed--Topgallant-masts carried away--Arrive
safely at Antonina.
CHAPTER VI: PAGE 30
Mutiny--Attempt at robbery and murder--Four against one--Two go down
before a rifle--Order restored.
CHAPTER VII: PAGE 37
Join the bark at Montevideo--A good crew--Small-pox breaks out--Bear up
for Maldonado and Floras--No aid--Death of sailors--To Montevideo in
distress--Quarantine.
CHAPTER VIII: PAGE 46
A new crew--Sail for Antonina--Load timber--Native canoes--Loss of the
_Aquidneck_.
CHAPTER IX: PAGE 51
The building of the _Liberdade_.
CHAPTER X: PAGE 63
Across the bar--The run to Santos--Tow to Rio by the steamship--At Rio.
CHAPTER XI: PAGE 70
Sail from Rio--Anchor at Cape Frio--Encounter with a whale--Sunken
treasure--The schoolmaster--The merchant--The good people at the
village--A pleasant visit.
CHAPTER XII: PAGE 76
Sail from Frio--Round Cape St. Thorne--High seas and swift currents--In
the "trades"--Dangerous reefs--Run into harbour unawares, on a dark and
stormy night--At Garavellas--Fine weather--A gale--Port St.
Paulo--Treacherous natives--Sail for Bahia.
CHAPTER XIII: PAGE 81
At Bahia--Meditations on the discoverers--The Caribbees.
CHAPTER XIV: PAGE 84
Bahia to Pernambuco--The meeting of the _Finance_ at sea--At
Pernambuco--Round Cape St. Roque--A gale--Breakers--The stretch to
Barbadoes--Flying-fish alighting on deck--Dismasted--Arrive at Carlysle
Bay.
CHAPTER XV: PAGE 95
At Barbadoes--Mayaguez--Crossing the Bahama Banks--The Gulf
Stream--Arrival on the coast of South Carolina.
CHAPTER XVI: PAGE 107
Ocean Currents--Visit to South Santee--At the Typee
River--Quarantined--South Port and Wilmington, N.C.--Inland sailing to
Beaufort, Norfolk and Washington, D.C.--Voyage ended.
DISPOSAL OF THE LIBERDADE: PAGE 117
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Diagram of the _Liberdade_ 52
The _Liberdade_ 62
MAP
Course of the _Liberdade_ from Paranagua to Barbadoes 69
GREETING
This literary craft of mine, in its native model and rig, goes out laden
with the facts of the strange happenings on a home afloat. Her
constructor, a sailor for many years, could have put a whole cargo of
salt, so to speak, in the little packet; but would not so wantonly
intrude on this domain of longshore navigators. Could the author and
constructor but box-haul, club-haul, tops'l-haul, and catharpin like the
briny sailors of the strand, ah me!--and hope to be forgiven!
Be the current against us, what matters it? Be it in our favour, we are
carried hence, to what place or for what purpose? Our plan of the whole
voyage is so insignificant that it matters little, maybe, whither we go,
for the "grace of a day" is the same! Is it not a recognition of this
which makes the old sailor happy, though in the storm; and hopeful even
on a plank in mid-ocean? Surely it is this! for the spiritual beauty of
the sea, absorbing man's soul, permits of no infidels on its boundless
expanse.
THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER I
The ship--The crew--A hurricane--Cape Verde Islands--Frio--A
_pampeiro_.
To get underweigh: It was on the 28th of February 1886, that the bark
_Aquidneck_, laden with case-oil, sailed from New York for Montevideo,
the capital of Uruguay, the strip of land bounding the River Plate on
the east, and called by the natives "Banda Oriental." The _Aquidneck_
was a trim and tidy craft of 326 tons' register, hailing from Baltimore,
the port noted for clippers, and being herself high famed above them all
for swift sailing, she had won admiration on many seas.
Her crew mustered ten, all told; twelve had been the complement, when
freights were good. There were, beside the crew with regular stations, a
little lad, aged about six years, and his mamma (age immaterial),
privileged above the rest, having "all nights in"--that is, not having
to stand watch. The mate, Victor, who is to see many adventures before
reaching New York again, was born and bred on shipboard. He was in
perfect health, and as strong as a windlass. When he first saw the light
and began to give orders, he was at San Francisco on the packet
_Constitution_, the vessel lost in the tempest at Samoa, just before the
great naval disaster at the same place in the year of 1889. Garfield,
the little lad above mentioned, Victor's brother, in this family ship,
was born in Hong Kong harbour, in the old bark _Amethyst_, a bona-fide
American citizen, though first seeing the light in a foreign port, the
Stars and Stripes standing sponsors for his nationality. This bark had
braved the wind and waves for fifty-eight years, but had not, up to that
date, so far as I know, experienced so lively a breeze as the one which
sprung up about her old timbers on that eventful 3rd of March, 1880.
Our foremast hands on the _Aquidneck_, six in number, were from as many
nations, strangers to me and strangers to each other; but the cook, a
negro, was a native American--to the manner born. To have even so many
Americans in one ship was considered exceptional.
Much or little as matters this family history and description of the
crew: the day of our sailing was bitter-cold and stormy, boding no good
for the coming voyage, which was to be, indeed, the most eventful of my
life of more than five-and-thirty years at sea. Studying the morning
weather report, before sailing, we saw predicted a gale from the
nor'west, and one also approaching from the sou'west at the same time.
"The prospect," said the New York papers, "is not encouraging." We were
anxious, however, to commence the voyage, having a crew on board, and,
being all ready, we boldly sailed, somewhat against our better judgment.
The nor'wester blowing, at the time, at the rate of forty miles an hour,
increased to eighty or ninety miles by March 2nd. This hurricane
continued through March 3rd, and gave us serious concern for the ship
and all on board.
At New York, on those days, the wind howled from the north, with the
"storm centre somewhere on the Atlantic," so said the wise seamen of the
weather bureau, to whom, by the way, the real old salt is indebted, at
the present day, for information of approaching storms, sometimes days
ahead. The prognostication was correct, as we can testify, for out on
the Atlantic our bark could carry only a mere rag of a foresail,
somewhat larger than a table-cloth, and with this storm-sail she went
flying before the tempest, all those dark days, with a large "bone in
her mouth,"[1] making great headway, even under the small sail.
Mountains of seas swept clean over the bark in their mad race, filling
her decks full to the top of the bulwarks, and shaking things generally.
Our men were lashed, each one to his station; and all spare spars not
doubly lashed were washed away, along with other movables that were
broken and torn from their fastenings by the wild storm.
The cook's galley came in for its share of the damage, the cook himself
barely escaping serious injury from a sea that went thundering across
the decks, taking with it doors, windows, galley stove, pots, kettles
and all, together with the culinary artist; landing the whole wreck in
the lee scuppers, but, most fortunately, with the professor on top. A
misfortune like this is always--felt. It dampens one's feelings, so to
speak. It means cold food for a time to come, if not even worse fare.
The day following our misfortune, however, was not so bad. In fact, the
tremendous seas boarding the bark latterly were indications of the good
change coming, for it meant that her speed had slackened through a lull
of the gale, allowing the seas to reach her too full and heavy.
More sail was at once crowded on, and still more was set at every stage
of the abatement of the gale, for the craft should not be lazy when big
seas race after her. And so on we flew, like a scud, sheeting home sail
after sail as required, till the 5th of March, when all of her white
wings were spread, and she fairly "walked the waters like a thing of
life." There was now wind enough for several days, but not too much,
and our swift-sailing craft laughed at the seas trying to catch her.
Cheerily on we sailed for days and days, pressed by the favouring gale,
meeting the sun each day a long span earlier, making daily four degrees
of longitude. It was the time, on these bright days, to forearm with dry
clothing against future stormy weather. Boxes and bags were brought on
deck, and drying and patching went on by wholesale in the watch below,
while the watch on deck bestirred themselves putting the ship in order.
"Chips," the carpenter, mended the galley; the cook's broken shins were
plastered up; and in a few days all was well again. And the sailors,
moving cheerfully about once more in their patched garments of varied
hues, reminded me of the spotted cape pigeons pecking for a living, the
pigeons, I imagined, having a better life of the two. A panican of hot
coffee or tea by sailors called "water bewitched," a sea-biscuit, and
"bit of salt-horse," had regaled the crew and restored their voices.
Then "Reuben Ranzo" was heard on the breeze, and the main tack was
boarded to the tune of "Johnny Boker." Other wondrous songs through the
night-watch could be heard in keeping with the happy time. Then what
they would do and what they wouldn't do in the next port was talked of,
when song and yarn ran out.
Hold fast, shipmate, hold fast and belay! or the crimps of Montevideo
will wear the new jacket you promise yourself, while you will be off
Cape Horn, singing "Haul out to leeward," with a wet stocking on your
neck, and with the same old "lamby" on, that long since was "lamby" only
in name, the woolly part having given way to a cloth worn much in "Far
Cathay"; in short, you will dress in dungaree, the same as now, while
the crimps and landsharks divide your scanty earnings, unless you "take
in the slack" of your feelings, and "make all fast and steady all."
Ten days out, and we were in the northeast "trades"--porpoises were
playing under the bows as only porpoises can play; dolphins were racing
alongside, and flying-fish were all about. This was, indeed, a happy
change, and like being transported to another world. Our hardships were
now all forgotten, for "the sea washes off all the woes of men."
One week more of pleasant sailing, all going orderly on board, and Cape
Verde Islands came in sight. A grand and glorious sight they were! All
hail, _terra firma_! It is good to look at you once again! By noon the
islands were abeam, and the fresh trade-wind in the evening bore us out
of sight of them before dark.
Most delightful sailing is this large, swinging motion of our bark
bounding over the waves, with the gale abaft the beam, driving her
forward till she fairly leaps from billow to billow, as if trying to
rival her companions, the very flying-fish. Thwarted now by a sea, she
strikes it with her handsome bows, sending into the light countless
thousand sprays, that shine like a nimbus of glory. The tread on her
deck-plank is lighter now, and the little world afloat is gladsome fore
and aft.
Cape Frio (cold cape) was the next landfall. Upon reaching that point,
we had crossed the Atlantic twice. The course toward Cape Verde Islands
had been taken to avail ourselves of a leading wind through the
south-east trades, the course from the islands to Frio being
southwesterly. This latter stretch was spanned on an easy bow-line; with
nothing eventful to record. Thence our course was through variable winds
to the River Plate, where a _pampeiro_ was experienced that blew "great
guns," and whistled a hornpipe through the rigging.
These _pampeiros_ (winds from the _pampas_) usually blow with great
fury, but give ample warning of their approach: the first sign being a
spell of unsurpassed fine weather, with small, fleecy clouds floating so
gently in the sky that one scarcely perceives their movements, yet they
do move, like an immense herd of sheep grazing undisturbed on the great
azure field. All this we witnessed, and took into account. Then
gradually, and without any apparent cause, the clouds began to huddle
together in large groups; a sign had been given which the elements
recognized. Next came a flash of fire from behind the accumulating
masses, then a distant rumbling noise. It was a note of warning, and one
that no vessel should let pass unheeded. "Clew up, and furl!" was the
order. To hand all sail when these fierce visitors are out on a frolic
over the seas, and entertain them under bare poles, is the safest plan,
unless, indeed, the best storm sails are bent; even then it is safest to
goose-wing the tops'ls before the gale comes on. Not till the fury of
the blast is spent does the ship require sail, for it is not till then
that the sea begins to rise, necessitating sail to steady her.
The first onslaught of the storm, levelling all before it, and sending
the would-be waves flying across in sheets--sailor sheets, so to
speak--lends a wild and fearful aspect; but there is no dread of a
lee-shore in the sailor's heart at these times, for the gale is from off
the land, as indicated by the name it bears.
After the gale was a calm; following which came desirable winds, that
carried us at last to the port we sought--Montevideo; where we cast
anchor on the 5th of May, and made preparations, after the customs'
visit, for discharging the cargo, which was finally taken into lighters
from alongside to the piers, and thence to the warehouses, where ends
the ship's responsibility to the owner of the goods. But not till then
ceases the ship's liability, or the captain's care of the merchandise
placed in his trust. Clearly the captain has cares on sea and on land.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] The white foam at the bows produced by fast sailing is, by
sailors, called "a bone in her mouth."