A new crew--Sail for Antonina--Load timber--Native canoes--Loss of
the _Aquidneck_.
After all this sad trouble was over, a new crew was shipped, and the
_Aquidneck's_ prow again turned seaward. Passing out by Flores, soon
after, we observed the coast-guard searching, I learned, for a supposed
sunken bark, which had appeared between squalls in the late gale with
signals of distress set. I was satisfied from the account that it was
our bark which they had seen in the gale, and the supposed flags were
our tattered sails, what there was left of them, streaming in the storm.
But we did not discourage the search, as it could do no harm, and I
thought that they might perhaps find something else worth knowing about.
This was the day, as I have said, on which my faithful cook died, while
the bark was in sight from the window of his sick ward. It was a bright,
fine day to us. We cannot say that it was otherwise than bright to him.
Breathing once more the fresh air of the sea, we set all sail for
Paranagua, passing the lights on the coast to leave them flickering on
the horizon, then soon out of sight. Fine weather prevailed, but with
much head wind; still we progressed, and rarely a day passed but
something of the distance toward our port was gained. One day, however,
coming to an island, one that was inhabited only by birds, we came to a
stand, as if it were impossible to go farther on the voyage; a spell
seemed to hang over us. I recognized the place as one that I knew well;
a very dear friend had stood by me on deck, looking at this island,
some years before. It was the last land that my friend ever saw. I would
fain have sailed around it now, but a puff of fair wind coming sent us
on our course for the time some leagues beyond. At sunset, though, this
wind went down, and with the current we drifted back so much that by the
next day we were farther off on the other side. However, fair wind
coming again, we passed up inside, making thus the circuit of the island
at last.
More or less favourable winds thenceforth filled our sails, till at last
our destined port was gained.
The little town of Antonina, where my wife and Garfield had remained
over during this voyage, twelve miles up the bay from Paranagua, soon
after our arrival, was made alive with the noise of children marching to
children's own music, my "Yawcob" heading the band with a brand-new
ninety-cent organ, the most envied fellow of the whole crowd. Sorrows of
the past took flight, or were locked in the closet at home, the fittest
place for past misfortunes.
A truly hard voyage for us all was that to Montevideo! The survivors
reached home after a while. Their features were terribly marked and
disfigured; so much so that I did not know them till they accosted me
when we met.
I look back with pleasure to the good character of my Brazilian sailors,
regretting the more their hard luck and sad fate! We may meet again!
_Quien sabe!_
Getting over all this sad business as best we could, we entered on the
next venture, which was to purchase and load a cargo of the famous
Brazilian wood. The _Aquidneck_ was shifted to an arm of the bay, where
she was moored under the lee of a virgin forest, twenty minutes' canoe
ride from the village of Guarakasava, where she soon began to load.
The timber of this country, generally very heavy, is nevertheless hauled
by hand to the water, where, lashed to canoes, it is floated to the
ship.
These canoes, formed sometimes from mammoth trees, skilfully shaped and
dug out with care, are at once the carriage and _cariole_ of the family
to the _citio_, or the rice to mill. Roads are hardly known where the
canoe is available; men, women, and children are consequently alike,
skilled in the art of canoeing to perfection, almost. There are no
carriages to speak of in such places, even a saddle horse about the
waterfront is a _rara avis_. There was, indeed, one horse at
Guarakasava--the owner of it was very conspicuous.
The family canoe just spoken of, has the capacity, often, of several
tons, is handsomely decorated with carvings along the topsides, and is
painted, as the "Geordie" would say, "in none o' your gaudy colours, but
in good plain red or blue"--sometimes, however, they are painted green.
The cost of these handsome canoes are, say, from $250 down in price and
size, from the grand turnout to the one-man craft which may be purchased
for five milreis ($2.50).
From the greatest to the smallest they are cared for with almost an
affectionate care, and are made to last many years.
One thing else which even the poorest Brazilian thinks much of is his
affectionate wife who literally and figuratively is often in the same
boat with her husband, pulling against the stream. Family ties are
strong in Brazil and the sweet flower of friendship thrives in its sunny
clime. The system of land and sea breezes prevail on the coast from Cape
Frio to Saint Catherine with great regularity most of the year; the sail
is therefore used to good advantage by the almost amphibious
inhabitants along the coast who love the water and take to it like ducks
and natural born sailors.
The wind falling light they propel their canoes by paddle or long pole
with equal facility. The occupants standing, in the smaller ones, force
them along at a great speed. The larger ones, when the wind does not
serve, are pulled by banks of oars which are fastened to stout pegs in
the gunwail with grummits, that fit loosely over the oars so as to allow
them free play in the hand of the waterman.
Curling the water with fine, shapely prows as they dart over the smooth
waters of the bays and rivers, these canoes present a picture of
unrivalled skill and grace.
I find the following entry in my diary made near the close of
transactions at Guarakasava which in the truthful word of an historian I
am bound to record, if only to show my prevailing high opinion of the
natives while I was among them:--
GUARAKASAVA, Dec. 20th.
Heretofore I have doted on native Brazilian honesty as well as
national seamanship and skill in canoes but my dream of a perfect
paradise is now unsettled forever. I find, alas! that even here the
fall of Adam is felt: Taking in some long poles to-day the negro
tallyman persisted in counting twice the same pole. When the first
end entered the port it was "_umo_" (one); when the last end
disappeared into the ship he would sing out "_does_" (two).
I had no serious difficulty over the matter, but left Guarakasava with
that hurt feeling which comes of being over persuaded that one and one
make four.
We spent Christmas of 1887 at Guarakasava. The bark was loaded soon
after, and when proceeding across the bay, where currents and wind
caught her foul near a dangerous sand bar, she misstayed and went on the
strand. The anchor was let go to club her. It wouldn't hold in the
treacherous sands; so she dragged and stranded broadside on, where, open
to the sea, a strong swell came in that raked her fore and aft for three
days, the waves dashing over her groaning hull the while till at last
her back was broke and--why not add heart as well! for she lay now
undone. After twenty-five years of good service the _Aquidneck_ here
ended her days!
I had myself carried load on load, but alas! I could not carry a
mountain; and was now at the end where my best skill and energy could
not avail. What was to be done? What could be done? We had indeed the
appearance of shipwrecked people, away, too, from home.
This was no time to weep, for the lives of all the crew were saved;
neither was it a time to laugh, for our loss was great.
But the sea calmed down, and I sold the wreck, which floated off at the
end of the storm. And after paying the crew their wages out of the
proceeds had a moiety left for myself and family--a small sum.
Then I began to look about for the future, and for means of escape from
exile. The crew (foreign) found shipping for Montevideo, where they had
joined the _Aquidneck_, in lieu of the stricken Brazilian sailors. But
for myself and family this outlet was hardly available, even if we had
cared to go farther from home,--which was the least of our thoughts; and
there were no vessels coming our way.