(SHIP LITTLETON).
On the voyage from Frisco to Montevideo in the ship Littleton we had an
interesting experience with sea lions, and narrowly escaped losing our
lives. As we entered the River Plate, on our way up to Montevideo, the
wind left us, and as the tide was running out we came to anchor, clewed
up the sails, and I went below for a nap. We lay about a mile off
shore, and about four o’clock one morning I was awakened by a terrible
screeching and bellowing, which I could not account for. It was now
nearly daylight, and running up on deck I thought the sounds came from
seals. I ordered the dingy to be put over the side, and took with me
a Snider rifle and heavy shotgun. We pulled quietly inshore toward an
island, which was called Lobos Island. The sun was now fairly up, and
I could see what I supposed were seals moving about and completely
covering the east side of the island. Pulling carefully, I got within
a hundred feet of them when I saw my mistake. They were not seals, but
sea lions, belonging to the seal family, but of no value. They were
bellowing like a lot of mad bulls, and were big fellows, dark brown
in color, and with eyes the size of an apple, I picked out one big
fellow about fifty feet above the shore, and fired at him. In a few
seconds they had rolled down into the water, every one of them, formed
into a perfect line, and came right alongside of the boat. They were
fierce-looking devils, with mouths wide open, and kept putting their
fore flippers on the gunwale of the boat.
I now began to feel somewhat uneasy, and struck several of them with a
long bar of inch iron which lay in the bottom of the boat. They dove
down and came up about fifty feet away, handling themselves like a
company of soldiers. I now thought the quicker I got back to the ship
the better it would be for me. I had taken but a few strokes when on
they came again, following in a V-shaped line like a lot of geese.
They quickly surrounded the boat, putting their flippers on the sides
and biting the gunwale with their long, sharp teeth. Their weight
made the boat rock and take in much water. As fast as I would strike
them with the bar, down they would go, only to come up again a short
distance away and repeat their tactics. By this time I was nearly
exhausted, and called to the ship for help. The chief officer, a Mr.
Wessel, afterwards told me that he thought I was fooling and having
some fun, so he did not send help. They now attacked the boat fiercer
than ever, so I picked up the heavy shotgun and let the old leader have
a charge right in the face. Another followed, and he got the same dose.
This seemed to sicken them and they turned and swam for the island.
Almost exhausted, I got back aboard the ship and found the crowd very
anxious to get out and take a crack at them.
The weather was still calm, so we got out the ship’s long-boats, put in
iron bars, rifles and hooks, and pulled in for the islands again. One
of the crew had refused to go, saying that his brother had been killed
by sea lions in the China Sea and that they were treacherous animals,
but we had nine men in the boat, so felt secure. As they were up on
the rocks, sunning themselves, we got the boat in a good position, and
I let drive at them with the rifle. The mate shouted out, “You have
killed him, captain; see him roll.” And sure enough, they all did
roll, but they rolled into the water and came for us in quick time.
They tried to climb into the boat, and how we did fight them! I fired
the rifle till the barrel was hot; we clubbed, pounded and jabbed them
until the sea was red with blood, but still they came on. Two of the
men had gotten out a couple of oars, and we slowly pulled away from
them back to the ship. I never want to see another sea lion again as
long as I live. A breeze coming up, we made sail and went up the river.