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VOYAGE OF THE LIBERDADE
Captain Joshua Slocum
Robinson & Stephenson Boston 1890
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I: PAGE 1
The ship--The crew--A hurricane--Cape Verde Islands--Frio--A _pampeiro_.
CHAPTER II: PAGE 8
Montevideo--Beggars--Antonina for mate--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 o' 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."
CHAPTER II
Montevideo--Beggars--Antonina for mate--Antonina to Buenos
Aires--The _bombelia_.
Montevideo, sister city to Buenos Aires, is the fairer of the two to
look upon from the sea, having a loftier situation, and, like Buenos
Aires, boasts of many fine mansions, comely women, liberal schools, and
a cemetery of great splendour.
It is at Montevideo that the "beggar a-horse-back" becomes a verity
(horses are cheap); galloping up to you the whining beggar will implore
you, saying: "For the love of Christ, friend, give me a coin to buy
bread with."
From "the Mont" we went to Antonina, in Brazil, for a cargo of mate, a
sort of tea, which, prepared as a drink, is wholesome and refreshing. It
is partaken of by the natives in a highly sociable manner, through a
tube which is thrust into the steaming beverage in a silver urn or a
calabash, whichever may happen to be at hand when "drouthy neebors
neebors meet"; then all sip and sip in bliss from the same tube, which
is passed from mouth to mouth. No matter how many mouths there may be,
the _bombelia_, as it is called, must reach them all. It may have to be
replenished to make the drink go around, and several times, too, when
the company is large. This is done with but little loss of time. By
thrusting into the urn or gourd a spoonful of the herb, and two
spoonfuls of sugar to a pint of water, which is poured, boiling, over
it, the drink is made. But to give it some fancied extra flavour, a live
coal (_carbo vegetable_) is plunged into the potion to the bottom. Then
it is again passed around, beginning where it left off. Happy is he, if
a stranger, who gets the first sip at the tube, but the initiated have
no prejudices. While in that country I frequently joined in the social
rounds at mate, and finally rejoiced in a _bombelia_ of my own.
The people at Antonina (in fact all the people we saw in Brazil) were
kind, extremely hospitable, and polite; living in thrift generally,
their wants were but few beyond their resources. The mountain scenery,
viewed from the harbour of Antonina, is something to gloat over; I have
seen no place in the world more truly grand and pleasing. The climate,
too, is perfect and healthy. The only doctor of the place, when we were
there, wore a coat out at the elbows, for lack of patronage. A desirable
port is Antonina.
We had musical entertainments on board, at this place. To see the
display of beautiful white teeth by these Brazilian sweet singers was
good to the soul of a sea-tossed mariner. One nymph sang for the
writer's benefit a song at which they all laughed very much. Being in
native dialect, I did not understand it, but of course laughed with the
rest, at which they were convulsed; from this, I supposed it to be at my
expense. I enjoyed that, too, as much, or more, than I would have
relished _areytos_ in my favour.
With mate we came to Buenos Aires, where the process of discharging the
cargo was the same as at Montevideo--into lighters. But at Buenos Aires,
we lay four times the distance from the shore, about four miles.
The herb, or _herva mate_, is packed into barrels, boxes, and into
bullock-hide sacks, which are sewed up with stout hide thongs. The
contents, pressed in tightly when the hide is green and elastic, becomes
as hard as a cannon-ball by the contraction which follows when it dries.
The first load of the _soroes_, so-called, that came off to the bark at
the port of loading, was espied on the way by little Garfield. Piled in
the boat, high above the gunwales, the hairy side out, they did look
odd. "Oh, papa," said he, "here comes a load of cows! Stand by, all
hands, and take them in."
CHAPTER III
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.
From Buenos Aires, we proceeded up the River Plate, near the confluence
of the Parana and Paraguay, to salve a cargo of wine from the stranded
brig _Neovo San Pascual_, from Marseilles.
The current of the great river at that point runs constantly seaward,
becoming almost a sea of itself, and a dangerous one to navigate; hence
the loss of the _San Pascual,_ and many others before her.
If, like the "Ancient Mariner," we had, any of us, cried, "water, water
all around, and not a drop to drink," we forgot it now, in this
bountiful stream. Wine, too, we had without stint. The insurance agent,
to leave no excuse for tampering with the cargo, rolled out a cask of
the best, and, like a true Hans Breitmann, "knocked out der bung." Then,
too, cases were broken in the handling, the contents of which drenched
their clothes from top to toe, as the sailors carried them away on their
heads.
The diversity of a sailor's life--ah me! The experience of Dana and his
shipmates, for instance, on a sun-burnt coast, carrying dry hides on
their heads, if not a worse one, may be in store for us, we cried, now
fairly swimming in luxuries--water and wine alike free. Although our
present good luck may be followed by times less cheerful, we preferred
to count this, we said, as compensation for past misfortunes, marking
well that "it never rains but it pours."
The cargo of wine in due course was landed at Rosario with but small
loss, the crew, except in one case, remaining sober enough to help
navigate even the difficult Parana. But one old sinner, the case I speak
of, an old Labrador fisherman, became a useless, drunken swab, in spite
of all we could do. I say "we" for most of the crew were on my side, in
favour of a fair deal and "regular supplies."
The hold was barred and locked, and every place we could think of, for a
time, was searched; still Dan kept terribly drunk. At last his mattress
was turned out, and from it rolled a dozen or more bottles of the best
liquor. Then there was a row, but all on the part of Dan, who swore blue
vengeance on the man, if he could but find him out, who had stowed that
grog in his bunk, "trying to get" him "into trouble"; some of those
"young fellows would rue it yet!"
The cargo of wine being discharged, I chartered to load alfalfa, packed
in bales, for Rio. Many deaths had occurred about this time, with
appalling suddenness; we soon learned that cholera was staring us all in
the face, and that it was fast spreading through the country, filling
towns and cities with sickness and death.
Approaching more frightfully near, it carried our pilot over the bar;
his wife was a widow the day after he brought our bark to the loading
berth. And the young man who commenced to deliver us the cargo was
himself measured the day after. His ship had come in!
Many stout men, and many, many women and children succumbed to the
scourge; yet it was our high privilege to come through the dark cloud
without losing a loved one, while thousands were cast down with
bereavements and grief. At one time it appeared that we were in the
centre of the cloud which zig-zagged its ugly body, serpent-like,
through districts, poisoning all that it touched, and leaving death in
its wake. This was indeed cholera in its most terrible form!
One poor fellow sat at the Widow Lacinas' hotel, bewildered.
"Forty-eight hours ago," said he, "I sat at my own hearth, with wife and
three children by my side. Now I am alone in the world! Even my poor
house, such as it was, is pulled down." This man, I say, had troubles;
surely was his "house pulled down!"
There was no escaping the poison or keeping it off, except by
disinfectants, and by keeping the system regular, for it soon spread
over all the land and the air was full of it. Remedies sold so high that
many must have perished without the test of medicinal aid to cure their
disease. A cry went up against unprincipled druggists who were
over-charging for their drugs, but nothing more was done to check their
greed. Camphor sold as high as four dollars a pound, and the druggist
with a few hundred drops of laudanum and as much chlorodyne could travel
through Europe afterward on the profits of his sales.
It was at Rosario, and at this time, that we buried our young friend,
Captain Speck, well loved of young and old. His friends did not ask
whether it was cholera or not that he died of, but performed the last
act of friendship as became men of heart and feeling. The minister could
not come that day, but Captain Speck's little friend, Garfield, said:
"The flags were set for the angels to come and take the Captain to
Heaven!" Need more be said?
And the flags blew out all day.
Then it became us to erect a memorial slab, and, hardest of all, to
write to the widow and orphans. This was done in a homely way, but with
sympathetic, aching hearts away off there in Santa Fe.
Our time at Rosario, after this, was spent in gloomy days that dragged
into weeks and months, and our thoughts often wandered from there to a
happy past. We preferred to dwell away from there and in other climes,
if only in thought. There was, however, one happy soul among us--the
child whose face was a sunbeam in all kinds of weather and at all times,
happy in his ignorance of the evils that fall to the lot of man.
Our sailing-day from Rosario finally came; and, with a feeling as of
casting off fetters, the lines were let go, and the bark hauled out into
the stream, with a full cargo on board; but, instead of sailing for Rio,
as per charter, she was ordered by the Brazilian consul to Ilha Grande
(Great Island), the quarantine station of Brazil, some sixty-two miles
west of Rio, there to be disinfected and to discharge her cargo in
quarantine.
A new crew was shipped and put aboard, but while I was getting my
papers, about noon, they stole one of the ship's boats and scurried off
down the river as fast, no doubt, as they could go. I have not seen them
or my boat since. They all deserted,--every mother's son of them!
taking, beside the boat, a month's advance pay from a Mr. Dutch Harry, a
sailor boarding-master, who had stolen my inward crew that he might, as
he boasted afterward, "ship new hands in their places." In view of the
fact that this vilest of crimps was the loser of the money, I could
almost forgive the "galoots" for the theft of my boat. (The ship is
usually responsible for advance wages twenty-four hours after she has
sailed, providing, too, that the sailors proceed to sea in her.) Seeing,
moreover, that they were of that stripe, unworthy the name of sailor, my
vessel was the better without them, by at least what it cost to be rid
of them, namely, the price of my boat.
However, I will take back what I said about Dutch Harry being the
"vilest crimp." There came one to Rosario worse than he, one "Pete the
Greek," who cut off the ears of a rival boarding-master at the Boca,
threw them into the river, then, making his escape to Rosario, some 180
miles away, established himself in the business in opposition to the
Dutchman, whom he "shanghaied" soon after, then "reigned peacefully in
his stead."
A captain who, like myself, had suffered from the depredations of this
noted gentry, told me, in great glee, that he saw Harry on a bone-laden
Italian bark outward bound,--"even then nearly out of the river." The
last seen of him by my friend, the captain, was "among the branches,"
with a rope around his neck--they hanged him, maybe--I don't know what
else the rope was for, or who deserved more to be hanged. The captain
screamed with delight:--"he'll get bone soup, at least, for a while,
instead of Santa Fe good mutton-chops at our expense."
My second crew was furnished by Mr. Pete, before referred to, and on the
seventeenth of December we set sail from that country of revolutions.
Things soon dropped into working order, and I found reason to be pleased
with the change of crew. We glided smoothly along down the river, thence
wishing never again to see Rosario under the distressing circumstances
through which she had just passed.
On the following day, while slipping along before a light, rippling
breeze, a dog was espied out in the current, struggling in the
whirlpools, which were rather strong, apparently unable to extricate
himself, and was greatly exhausted. Coming up with him our main-tops'l
was laid to the mast, and as we ranged by the poor thing, a sailor,
plunging over the side in a bow-line, bent a rope on to doggy, another
one hauled him carefully on board, and the rescue was made. He proved
to be a fine young retriever, and his intelligent signs of thankfulness
for his escape from drowning were scarcely less eloquent of gratitude
than human spoken language.
This pleasant incident happening on a Friday, suggested, of course, the
name we should give him. His new master, to be sure, was Garfield, who
at once said, "I guess they won't know me when I get home, with my new
suit--and a dog!" The two romped the decks thenceforth, early and late.
It was good to see them romp, while "Friday" "barkit wi' joy."
Our pets were becoming numerous now, and all seemed happy till a
stowaway cat one day killed poor little "Pete," our canary. For ten
years or more we had listened to the notes of this wee bird, in many
countries and climes. Sweetest of sweet singers, it was buried in the
great Atlantic at last. A strange cat, a careless steward, and its tiny
life was ended--and the tragedy told. This was indeed a great loss to us
all, and was mourned over,--almost as the loss of a child.
A book that has been read at sea has a near claim on our friendship, and
is a thing one is loth to part with, or change, even for a better book.
But the well-tried friend of many voyages is oh! so hard to part with at
sea. A resting-place in the solemn sea of sameness--in the trackless
ocean, marked only by imaginary lines and circles--is a cheerless spot
to look to; yet how many have treasures there!
Returning to the voyage and journal: Our pilot proved incompetent, and
we narrowly escaped shipwreck in consequence at Martin Garcia Bar, a bad
spot in the River Plate. A small schooner captain, observing that we
needlessly followed in his track, and being anything but a sailor in
principle, wantonly meditated mischief to us. While I was confidently
trusting to my pilot, and he (the pilot) trusting to the schooner, one
that could go over banks where we would strike, what did the scamp do
but shave close to a dangerous spot, my pilot following faithfully in
his wake. Then, jumping upon the taffrail of his craft, as we came
abreast the shoal, he yelled, like a Comanche, to my pilot to: "Port the
helm!" and what does my mutton-headed jackass do but port hard over! The
bark, of course, brought up immediately on the ground, as the other had
planned, seeing which his whole pirate crew--they could have been little
less than pirates--joined in roars of laughter, but sailed on, doing us
no other harm.
By our utmost exertions the bark was gotten off, not a moment too soon,
however, for by the time we kedged her into deep water a _pampeiro_ was
upon us. She rode out the gale safe at anchor, thanks to an active crew.
Our water tanks and casks were then refilled, having been emptied to
lighten the bark from her perilous position.
Next evening the storm went down, and by mutual consent our mud-pilot
left, taking passage in a passing river-craft, with his pay and our best
advice, which was to ship in a dredging-machine, where his capabilities
would be appreciated.
Then, "paddling our own canoe," without further accident we reached the
light-ship, passing it on Christmas Day. Clearing thence, before night,
English Bank and all other dangers of the land, we set our course for
Ilha Grande, the wind being fair. Then a sigh of relief was breathed by
all on board. If ever "old briny" was welcomed, it was on that Christmas
Day.
Nothing further of interest occurred on the voyage to Brazil, except the
death of the little bird already spoken of, which loss deeply affected
us all.
We arrived at Ilha Grande, our destination, on the 7th day of January,
1887, and came to anchor in nine fathoms of water, at about noon,
within musket-range of the guard-ship, and within speaking distance of
several vessels riding quarantine, with more or less communication going
on among them all, through flags. Several ships, chafing under the
restraint of quarantine, were "firing signals" at the guard-ship. One
Scandinavian, I remember, asked if he might be permitted to communicate
by _cable_ with his owners in Christiana. The guard gave him, as the
Irishman said, "an evasive answer," so the cablegram, I suppose, laid
over. Another wanted police assistance; a third wished to know if he
could get fresh provisions--ten milreis' ($5) worth (he was a
German)--naming a dozen or more articles that he wished for, "and _the
balance in onions_!" Altogether, the young fellows on the guard-ship
were having, one might say, a signal practice.
On the next day, January 8th, the officers of the port came alongside in
a steam-launch, and ordered us to leave, saying the port had been closed
that morning. "But we have made the voyage," I said. "No matter," said
the guard, "leave at once you must, or the guard-ship will fire into
you." This, I submit, was harsh and arbitrary treatment. A thunderbolt
from a clear sky could not have surprised us more or worked us much
greater harm--to be ruined in business or struck by lightning, being
equally bad!
Then pointing something like a gun, Dom Pedro said, said he, "_Vaya
Homem_" (hence, begone), "Or you'll give us cholera." So back we had to
go, all the way to Rosario, with that load of hay--and trouble. But on
our arrival there we found things better than they were when we sailed.
The cholera had ceased--it was on the wane when we sailed from Rosario,
and there was hardly a case of the dread disease in the whole country
east of Cordova when we returned. That was, indeed, a comfort, but it
left our hardship the same, and led, consequently, to the total loss of
the vessel after dragging us through harrowing trials and losses, as
will be seen by subsequent events.
CHAPTER IV
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.
This Ilha Grande decree, really a political movement, brought great
hardships on us, notwithstanding that it was merely intended by the
Brazilians as retaliation for past offences by their Argentine
neighbours; not only for quarantines against Rio fevers, but for a
discriminating duty as well on sugar from the empire; a combination of
hardships on commerce--more than the sensitive Brazilians could
stand--so chafing them that a retaliation fever sprung up reaching more
than the heat of _febre marello_, and they decided to teach their
republican cousins a wholesome lesson. However, their wish was to
retaliate without causing war, and it was done. In fact, closing ports
as they did at the beginning of Argentine's most valuable season of
exports to Brazil, and with the plausible excuse, namely fear of pain in
the stomach, so filled the Argentines with admiration of their equals in
strategy that they on the earliest opportunity proclaimed two public
holidays in honour of bright Brazil. So the matter of difference ended,
to the delight of all--in fire-crackers and champagne!
To the delight of all except the owner and crew of the _Aquidneck_. For
our bark there was no way but to return where the cargo came from, at a
ruinous loss, too, of time and money. We called at the first open port
and wired to the owner of the cargo, but got no answer. Thence we sailed
to Buenos Aires, where I telegraphed again for instructions. The
officers of the guard-ship, upon receiving my report from Brazil, were
convulsed with laughter, while I----I confess it--could not see the
joke. After waiting two days, this diplomatic reply came from the owner
of the cargo: "Act as the case may require." Upon this matter I had
several opinions. One person suggested that the case required me to
pitch the whole cargo into the sea! This friend, I may mention, was from
Boston.
I have ever since regretted, however, that I did not take his advice.
There seemed to be no protection for the vessel; the law that a ship
must be allowed to live was unheeded; in fact this law was reversed and
there were sharpers and beach-combers at every turn ready to take
advantage of one's misfortunes or even drive one to despair. I
concluded, finally, to shake the lot of them, and proceeding up the
Parana, moored again at the berth where, a few weeks before, we had
taken in the cargo. Spans and tackle were rigged, and all was made ready
to discharge. It was now, "Come on, McCarthy, or McCarthy, come on!" I
didn't care which, I had one _right_ on my side, and I kept that always
in view; namely, the right to discharge the cargo where I had first
received it; but where the money to buy ballast and pay other charges
was to come from I could not discover.
My merchant met me in great concern at my "misfortunes," but "carramba!"
(zounds) said he, "my own losses are great." It required very little
reasoning to show me that the least expensive course was the safest one
for me to adopt, and my merchant offering enough to pay the marketing, I
found it wisest not to disturb the cargo, but to lay up instead with it
in the vessel and await the reopening of the Brazilian ports. This I
did.
My merchant, Don Manuel, is said to be worth millions of _pesos_. The
foundation of his wealth was laid by peddling charcoal, carrying it at
first, to his credit be it said, on his back, and he was then a good
fellow. Many a hard bargain has he waged since, and is now a "Don,"
living in a $90,000 house. The Don doesn't peddle charcoal any more.
Moored at Rosario, waiting, waiting; but all of us well in body, and
myself finally less agitated in mind. My old friend, Don Manuel, seems
better also; he "may yet purge and live clean like a gentleman."
I found upon our return to Rosario that some of the old hands were
missing; laid low by the scourge, to make room for others, and some were
spared who would have been less lamented. Among all the ship-brokers
that I knew at Rosario, and I knew a great many, not one was taken away.
They all escaped, being, it was thought, epidemic-proof. There was my
broker, Don Christo Christiano--called by Don Manuel "El Sweaga" (the
Swede)--whom nothing could strike with penetrative force, except a
commission.
At last, April 9th, 1887, news came that the Brazilian ports were open.
Cholera had long since disappeared in Santa Fe and Buenos Aires. The
Brazilians had established their own beef-drying factories, and could
now afford to open their ports to competition. This made a great stir
among the ships. Crews were picked up here and there, out of the few
brothels that had not been pulled down during the cholera, and out of
the streets or from the fields. Some, too, came in from the bush. Mixed
among them were many that had been let out of the prisons all over the
country, so that the scourge should not be increased by over-crowded
jails. Of six who shipped with me, four had been so released from
prison, where they had been serving for murder or highway robbery; all
this I learned when it was too late. I shall have occasion before long
to speak of these again!
Well, we unmoored and dropped down the river a few miles the first day;
with this crew, the hardest looking set that ever put foot on a ship of
mine, and with a swarthy Greek pilot that would be taken for a pirate in
any part of the world. The second mate, who shipped also at Rosario, was
not less ill-visaged, and had, in addition to his natural ugly features,
a deep scar across his face, suggestive of a heavy sabre stroke; a mark
which, I thought upon further acquaintance, he had probably merited. I
could not make myself easy upon the first acquaintance of my new and
decidedly ill-featured crew. So, early the first evening I brought the
bark to anchor, and made all snug before dark for prudent reasons. Next
morning, the Greek, instead of getting the bark underweigh, as I
expected him to do, came to me demanding more pay for his services and
thinking, maybe, that I could not do without him, demanded, unless I
chose to pay considerably in excess of his regular dues, to be put on
shore. I took the fellow at his first bounce. He and his grip-sack were
landed on the bank there and then, with but little "palaver" over it. It
was then said, so I learned after, that "old S----" would drop into the
wake of some ship, and save his pilotage; in fact, they didn't know
"what else he could do," as the pilots were then all engaged for other
vessels.
The money was taken care of all right, and so was the _Aquidneck_! By
daylight of the following morning she was underweigh, and under full
sail at the head of a fleet of piloted vessels, and, being the swiftest
sailer, easily kept the lead, and was one of the vessels that did _not
"rompe el banco_," as was predicted by all the pilots, while they
hunched their shoulders above their ears, exclaiming, "No _practico_, no
_possebla_!" This was my second trip down the Parana, it is true, and I
had been on other rivers as wonderful as this one, and had, moreover,
read Mark Twain's "Life on the Mississippi," which gives no end of
information on river currents, wind-reefs, sand-reefs, alligator-water,
and all that is useful to know about rivers, so that I was confident of
my ability; all that had been required was the stirring-up that I got
from the impertinent pilot, or buccaneer, whichever is proper to call
him--one thing certain, he was no true sailor!
A strong, fair wind on the river, together with the current, in our
favour, carried us flying down the channel, while we kept the lead, with
the Stars and Stripes waving where they ought always to be seen; namely,
on the ship in the van! So the duffers followed us, instead of our
following them, and on we came, all clear, with the good wishes of the
officers and the crews. But the pilots, drawing their shoulders up and
repeating the refrain, "No _practico_, no _possebla_!" cursed us
bitterly, and were in a vile mood, I was told, cursing more than usual,
and that is saying a great deal, for all will agree who have heard them
that the average "Dago" pilot is the most foul-mouthed thing afloat.
Down the river and past the light-ship we came once more, this time with
no halt to make, no backing sails to let a pilot off, nothing at all to
stop us; we spread all sail to a favourable breeze, and reached Ilha
Grande eight days afterward, beating the whole fleet by two days.
Garfield kept strict account of this. He was on deck when we made the
land, a dark and foggy night it was! nothing could be seen but the
dimmest outline of a headland through the haze. I knew the place, I
thought, and Garfield said he could smell land, fog or coal-tar. This,
it will be admitted, was reassuring. A school of merry porpoises that
gambolled under the bows while we stood confidently in for the land,
diving and crossing the bark's course in every direction, also guarded
her from danger. I knew that so long as deep-sea porpoises kept with us
we had nothing to fear of the ground. When the lookout cried, "Porpoises
gone," we turned the bark's head off-shore, backed the main-tops'l, and
sent out the "pigeon" (lead). A few grains of sand and one soft,
delicate white shell were brought up out of fourteen fathoms of water.
We had but to heed these warnings and guides, and our course would be
tolerably clear, dense and all as the fog and darkness was.
The lead was kept constantly going as we sailed along in the intense
darkness, till the headland of our port was visible through the haze of
grey morning. What Garfield had smelled, I may mention, turned out to be
coal-tar, a pot of which had been capsized on deck by the leadsman, in
the night.
By daylight in the morning, April 29, we had found the inner entrance to
Ilha Grande, and sailed into the harbour for the second time with this
cargo of hay. It was still very foggy, and all day heavy gusts of wind
came down through the gulches in the mountains, laden with fog and rain.
Two days later, the weather cleared up, and our friends began to come
in. They found us there all right, anchored close under the highest
mountain.
Eight days of sullen gloom and rain at this place; then brimstone,
smoke, and fire turned on to us, and we were counted healthy enough to
be admitted to _pratique_ in Rio, where we arrived May 11th, putting one
more day between ourselves and our friendly competitors, who finally
arrived safe, all except one, the British bark _Dublin_. She was
destroyed by fire between the two ports. The crew was rescued by
Captain Lunt, and brought safe into Rio next day.
At the fort entrance to the harbour of Rio we were again challenged and
brought to, all standing, on the bar; the tide running like a mill race
at the time brought the bark aback on her cables with a force, nearly
cutting her down.
The _Aquidneck_ it would seem had outsailed the telegram which should
have preceded her; it was, nevertheless, my imperative duty to obey the
orders of the port authorities which, however, should have been tempered
with reason. It was easy for them in the fort to say, "Come to, or we'll
sink you," but we in the bark, between two evils, came near being sunk
by obeying the order.
Formerly, when a vessel was challenged at this fort, one, two or three
shots, if necessary to bring her to, were fired, at a cost to the ship,
if she were not American, of fifteen shillings for the first shot,
thirty for the second, and sixty for the third; but, for American ships,
the sixty shilling shot was fired first--Americans would always have the
best!
After all the difficulties were cleared away, the tardy telegram
received, and being again identified by the officers, we weighed anchor
for the last time on this voyage, and went into our destined port, the
spacious and charming harbour of Rio.
CHAPTER V
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.
The cargo was at last delivered, and no one made ill over it. A change
of rats also was made; at Rio those we brought in gave place to others
from the Dom Pedro Docks where we moored. Fleas, too, skipped about in
the hay as happy as larks, and nearly as big; and all the other live
stock that we brought from Rosario, goodness knows of what kind and
kith, arrived well and sound from over the water, notwithstanding the
fumigations and fuss made at the quarantine.
Had the little microbes been with us indeed, the Brazilians would not
have turned us away as they did, from the doors of an hospital! for they
are neither a cruel nor cowardly people. To turn sickness away would be
cruel and stupid, to say the least! What we were expelled for I have
already explained.
After being so long in gloomy circumstances we felt like making the most
of pleasant Rio! Therefore on the first fine day after being docked, we
sallied out in quest of city adventure, and brought up first in
Ouvidor--the Broadway of Rio, where my wife bought a tall hat, which I
saw nights looming up like a dreadful stack of hay, the innocent cause
of much trouble to me, and I declared, by all the great islands--in my
dreams--that go back with it I would not, but would pitch it, first,
into the sea.
I get nervous on the question of quarantines. I visit the famous
Botanical Gardens with my family, and I tremble with fear lest we are
fumigated at some station on the way. However, our time at Rio is
pleasantly spent in the main, and on the first day of June, we set sail
once more for Paranagua and Antonina of pleasant recollections; partly
laden with flour, kerosene, pitch, tar, rosin and wine, three pianos, I
remember, and one steam engine and boiler, all as ballast; "freight
free," so the bill of lading read, and further, that the ship should
"not be responsible for leakage, breakage, or rust." This clause was
well for the ship, as one of those wild _pampeiros_ overtook her, on the
voyage, throwing her violently on her beam-ends, and shaking the motley
cargo into a confused and mixed-up mess. The vessel remaining tight,
however, no very serious damage was done, and she righted herself after
a while, but without her lofty topgallant-masts, which went with a crash
at the first blast of the tempest.
This incident made a profound impression on Garfield. He happened to be
on deck when the masts were carried away, but managed to scamper off
without getting hurt. Whenever a vessel hove in sight after that having
a broken spar or a torn sail, it was "a _pampeiroed_ ship."
The storm, though short, was excessively severe, and swept over
Paranagua and Antonina with unusual violence. The owner of the pianos, I
was told, prayed for us, and regretted that his goods were not insured.
But when they were landed, not much the worse for their tossing about,
old Strichine, the owner (that was his name or near that, strychnine the
boys called him, because his singing was worse than "rough on rats,"
they said, a bit of juvenile wit that the artist very sensibly let pass
unheeded), declared that the ship was a good one, and that her captain
was a good pilot; and as neither freight nor insurance had been paid, he
and his wife would feast us on music; having learned that I especially
was fond of it. They had screeched operas for a lifetime in Italy, but I
didn't care for that. As arranged, therefore, I was on deck at the
appointed time and place, to stay at all hazards.
The pianos, as I had fully expected, were fearfully out of
tune--suffering, I should say, from the effects of seasickness!
So much so that I shall always believe this opportunity was seized upon
by the artist to avenge the damage to his instruments, which, indeed, I
could not avert, in the storm that we passed through. The good Strichine
and his charming wife were astonished at the number of opera airs I
could name. And they tried to persuade me to sing Il Trovatore; but
concluding that damage enough had already been done, I refrained, that
is, I refracted my song.
CHAPTER VI
Mutiny--Attempt at robbery and murder--Four against one--Two go
down before a rifle--Order restored.
July 23rd, 1887, brings me to a sudden and shocking point in the history
of the voyage that I fain would forget, but that will not be possible.
Between the hours of 11 and 12 p.m. of this day I was called instantly
to defend my life and all that is dear to a man.
The bark, anchored alone in the harbour of Antonina, was hid from the
town in the darkness of a night that might well have covered the
blackest of tragedies. My pirates thought their opportunity had surely
come to capture the _Aquidneck_, and this they undertook to do. The
ringleader of the gang was a burly scoundrel, whose boast was that he
had "licked" both the mate and second mate of the last vessel he had
sailed in, and had "busted the captain in the jaw" when they landed in
Rio, where the vessel was bound, and where, of course, the captain had
discharged him. It was there the villain shipped with me, in lieu of one
of the Rosario gang who had been kindly taken in charge by the guard at
Ilha Grande and brought to Rio to be tried before the American Consul
for insubordination. Said he, one day when I urged him to make haste and
help save the topsails in a squall, "Oh, I'm no soft-horn to be
hurried!" It was the time the bark lost her topgallant-mast and was cast
on her beam-ends on the voyage to Antonina, already told; it was, in
fact, no time for loafing, and this braggart at a decisive word hurried
aloft with the rest to do his duty. What I said to him was meant for
earnest, and it cowed him. It is only natural to think that he held a
grudge against me forever after, and waited only for his opportunity;
knowing, too, that I was the owner of the bark, and supposed to have
money. He was heard to say in a rum-mill a day or two before the attack
that he would find the ---- money and his life, too. His chum and bosom
friend had come pretty straight from Palermo penitentiary at Buenos
Aires when he shipped with me at Rosario.
It was no secret on board the bark that he had served two years for
robbing, and cutting a ranchman's throat from ear to ear. These records,
which each seemed to glory in, were verified in both cases.
I met the captain afterwards who had been "busted in the jaw"--Captain
Roberts, of Baltimore, a quiet gentleman, with no evil in his heart for
any one, and a man, like myself, well along in years.
Two of the gang, old Rosario hands, had served for the lesser offence of
robbery alone--they brought up in the rear! The other two of my foremast
hands--one a very respectable Hollander, the other a little Japanese
sailor, a bright, young chap--had been robbed and beaten by the four
ruffians, and then threatened so that they deserted to the forest
instead of bringing a complaint of the matter to me, for fear, as the
Jap expressed it afterwards, when there was no longer any danger,--for
fear the "la-la-long mans (thieves) would makee killo mi!"
The ringleader bully had made unusual efforts to create a row when I
came on board early in the evening; however, as he had evidently been
drinking, I passed it off as best I could for the natural consequence of
rum, and ordered him forward; instead of doing as he was bid, when I
turned to hand my wife to the cabin he followed me threateningly to the
break of the poop. What struck me most, however, was the conduct of his
chum, who was sober, but in a very unusual, high, gleeful mood. It was
knock-off time when I came along to where he was seizing off the mizzen
topgallant backstay, the last of the work of refitting the late
_pampeiro_ damage; and the mate being elsewhere engaged, I gave the
usual order to quit work. "Knock off," I said to the man, "and put away
your tools. The bark's rigging looks well," I added, "and if to-morrow
turns out fine, all will be finished"; whereupon the fellow laughed
impertinently in my face, repeating my words, "All will be finished!"
under his breath, adding, "before to-morrow!" This was the first insult
offered by the "Bloodthirsty Tommy," who had committed murder only a
short time before; but I had been watched by the fellow, with a cat-like
eye at every turn.
The full significance of his words on this occasion came up to me only
next morning, when I saw him lying on the deck with a murderous weapon
in his hand! I was not expecting a cowardly, night attack, nevertheless
I kept my gun loaded. I went to sleep this night as usual, forgetting
the unpleasant episode as soon as my head touched the pillow; but my
wife, with finer instincts, kept awake. It was well for us all that she
did so. Near midnight, my wife, who had heard the first footstep on the
poop-deck, quietly wakened me, saying, "We must get up, and look out for
ourselves! Something is going wrong on deck; the boat tackle has been
let go with a great deal of noise, and--O! don't go that way on deck. I
heard some one on the cabin steps, and heard whispering in the forward
entry."
"You must have been dreaming," I said.
"No, indeed!" said she; "I have not been asleep yet; don't go on deck by
the forward companionway; they are waiting there, I am sure, for I heard
the creaking of the loose step in the entry."
If my wife has not been dreaming, thought I, there can be no possible
doubt of a plot.
Nothing justifies a visit on the poop-deck after working-hours, except a
call to relieve sickness, or for some other emergency, and then secrecy
or stealth is non-permissible.
It may be here explained to persons not familiar with ships, that the
sailors' quarters are in the forward part of the ship where they (the
sailors) are supposed to be found after working-hours, in port, coming
never abaft the mainmast; hence the term "before the mast."
My first impulse was to step on deck in the usual way, but the earnest
entreaties of my wife awoke me to a danger that should be investigated
with caution. Arming myself, therefore, with a stout carbine repeater,
with eight ball cartridges in the magazine, I stepped on deck abaft
instead of forward, where evidently I had been expected. I stood rubbing
my eyes for a moment, inuring them to the intense darkness, when a
coarse voice roared down the forward companionway to me to come on deck.
"Why don't ye come on deck like a man, and order yer men forid?" was the
salute that I got, and was the first that I heard with my own ears, and
it was enough. To tell the whole story in a word, I knew that I had to
face a mutiny.
I could do no less than say: "Go forward there!"
"Yer there, are ye?" said the spokesman, as with an oath, he bounded
toward me, cursing as he came.
Again I ordered him forward, saying, "I am armed,--if you come here I
will shoot!" But I forbore to do so instantly, thinking to club him to
the deck instead, for my carbine was a heavy one. I dealt him a blow as
he came near, sufficient I thought, to fell an ox; but it had,
apparently, no effect, and instantly he was inside of my guard. Then
grasping me by the throat, he tried to force me over the taffrail, and
cried, exultingly, as he felt me give way under his brute strength,
"Now, you damn fool, shoot!" at the same time drawing his knife to
strike.
I could not speak, or even breathe, but my carbine spoke for me, and the
ruffian fell with the knife in his hand which had been raised against
me! Resolution had proved more than a match for brute force, for I then
knew that not only my own life but also the lives of others depended on
me at this moment. Nothing daunted, the rest came on, like hungry
wolves. Again I cried, "Go forward!" But thinking, maybe, that my rifle
was a single shooter, or that I could not load it so quickly, the order
was disregarded.
"What if I don't go forward?" was "Bloody Tommy's" threatening question,
adding, as he sprang toward me, "I've got this for you!" but fell
instantly as he raised his hand; and there on the deck was ended his
misadventure! and like the other he fell with the deadly knife in his
hand. I was now all right. The dread of cold steel had left me when I
freed myself from the first would-be assassin, and I only wondered how
many more would persist in trying to take my life. But recollecting
there were only two mutineers left, and that I had still six shots in
the magazine of my rifle, and one already in the chamber, I stood ready
with the hammer raised, and my finger on the trigger, confident that I
would not be put down.
There was no further need of extreme measures, however, for order was
now restored, though two of the assailants had skulked away in the dark.
How it was that I regained my advantage, after once losing it, I hardly
know; but this I am certain of, that being down I was not to be spared.
Then desperation took the place of fear, and I felt more than a match
for all that could come against me. I had no other than serene
feelings, however, and had no wish to pursue the two pirates that fled.
Immediately after the second shot was fired, and I found myself once
more master of my bark, the remaining two came aft again, at my bidding
this time, and in an orderly manner, it may be believed.
It is idle to say what I would or would not have given to have the
calamity averted, or, in other words, to have had a crew of sailors,
instead of a gang of cut-throats.
However, when the climax came, I had but one course to pursue; this I
resolutely followed. A man will defend himself and his family to the
last, for life is sweet, after all.
It was significant, the court thought afterwards, that while my son had
not had time to dress, they all had on their boots except the one who
fell last, and he was in his socks, with no boots on. It was he who had
waited for me as I have already said, on the cabin steps that I usually
passed up and down on, but this time avoided. Circumstantial evidence
came up in abundance to make the case perfectly clear to the
authorities. There are few who will care to hear more about a subject so
abhorrent to all, and I care less to write about it. I would not have
said this much, but for the enterprise of a rising department clerk,
who, seeing the importance of telling to the world what he knew, and
seeing also some small emolument in the matter, was I believe prompted
to augment the consular dispatches, thus obliging me to fight the battle
over. However, not to be severe on the poor clerk, I will only add that,
no indignities were offered me by the authorities through all the strict
investigation that followed the tragedy.
The trial being for justice and not for my money the case was soon
finished.
I sincerely hope that I may never again encounter such as those who came
from the jails to bring harm and sorrow in their wake.
The work of loading was finished soon after the calamity to my bark, and
a Spanish sailing-master was engaged to take her to Montevideo; my son
Victor going as flag captain.
I piloted the _Aquidneck_ out of the harbour, and left her clear of the
buoy, looking as neat and trim as sailor could wish to see. All the
damage done by the late _pampeiro_ had been repaired, new
topgallant-masts rigged, and all made ataunto. I saw my handsome bark
well clear of the dangers of the harbour limits, then in sorrow I left
her and paddled back to the town, for I was on parole to appear, as I
have said, for trial! That was the word; I can find no other name for
it--let it stand!
CHAPTER VII
Join the bark at Montevideo--A good crew--Small-pox breaks
out--Bear up for Maldonado and Flores--No aid--Death of sailors--To
Montevideo in distress--Quarantine.
As soon as the case was over I posted on for Montevideo by steamer,
where the bark had arrived only a few days ahead of me. I found her
already stripped to a gantline though, preparatory to a long stay in
port. I had given Victor strict orders to interfere in no way with the
Spaniard, but to let him have full charge in nearly everything. I could
have trusted the lad with full command, young as he was; but there was a
strange crew of foreigners which might, as often happens, require
maturer judgment to manage than to sail the vessel. As it proved,
however, even the _cook_ was in many ways a better man than the
sailing-master.
Victor met me with a long face, and the sailors wore a quizzical look as
I came over the vessel's side. One of them, in particular, whom I shall
always remember, gave me a good-humoured greeting, along with his shake
of the head, that told volumes; and next day was aloft, crossing yards,
cheerfully enough. I found my Brazilian crew to be excellent sailors,
and things on board the _Aquidneck_ immediately began to assume a
brighter appearance, aloft and alow.
Cargo was soon discharged, other cargo taken in, and the bark made ready
for sea. My crew, I say, was a good one; but, poor fellows, they were
doomed to trials--the worst within human experience, many of them giving
up to grim death before the voyage was ended. Too often one bit of bad
luck follows another. This rule brought us in contact with one of these
small officials at Montevideo, better adapted to home life; one of those
knowing, perhaps, more than need a cowboy, but not enough for consul.
This official, managing to get word to my crew that a change of master
dissolved their contract, induced them to come on shore and claim pay
for the whole voyage and passage home on a steamer besides, the same as
though the bark had been sold.
What overwhelming troubles may come of having incompetent officials in
places of trust, the sequel will show. This unwise, even stupid
interference, was the indirect cause of the sufferings and deaths among
the crew which followed.
I was able to show the consul and his clerk that sailors are always
engaged for the ship, and never for the master, and that a change of
master did not in any way affect their contract. However, I paid the
crew off, and then left it to their option to re-ship or not, for they
were all right, they had been led to do what they did, and I knew that
they wanted to get home, and it was there that the bark was going,
direct.
All signed the articles again, except one, a long-haired Andalusian,
whom I would not have longer at any price. The wages remained the same
as before, and all hands returned to their duty cheerful and
contented--but pending the consul's decision (which, by the way, I
decided for him), they had slept in a contagioned house, where, alas,
they contracted small-pox of the worst type.
We were now homeward bound. All the "runaway rum" that could be held out
by the most subtle crimps of Montevideo could not induce these sober
Brazilian sailors to desert their ship.
These "crimps" are land-sharks who get the sailors drunk when they can,
and then rob them of their advance money. The sailors are all paid in
advance; sometimes they receive in this way most of their wages for the
voyage, which they make after the money is spent, or wasted, or stolen.
We all know what working for dead horse means--sailors know too well its
significance.
As sailing day drew near, a half-day liberty to each watch was asked for
by the men, who wanted to make purchases for their friends and relatives
at Paranagua. Permission to go on shore was readily granted, and I was
rewarded by seeing every one return to his ship at the time promised,
and every one sober. On the morrow, which was sailing day, every man was
at his post and all sang "Cheerily, ho!" and were happy; all except one,
who complained of slight chills and a fever, but said that he had been
subject to this, and that with a dose of quinine he would soon be all
right again.
It appeared a small matter. Two days later though, his chills turned to
something which I knew less about. The next day, three more men went
down with rigor in the spine, and at the base of the brain. I knew by
this that small-pox was among us!
We bore up at once for Maldonado, which was the nearest port, the place
spoken of in "Gulliver's Travels," though Gulliver, I think, is mistaken
as to its identity and location, arriving there before a gathering storm
that blew wet and cold from the east. Our signals of distress, asking
for immediate medical aid were set and flew thirty-six hours before any
one came to us; then a scared Yahoo (the country was still inhabited by
Yahoos) in a boat rowed by two other animals, came aboard, and said,
"Yes, your men have got small-pox." "_Vechega_" he called it, but I
understand the lingo of the Yahoo very well, I could even speak a few
words of it and comprehend the meanings. "_Vechega_!" he bellowed to
his mates alongside, and, turning to me, he said, in Yahoo: "You must
leave the port at once," then jumping into his boat he hurried away,
along with his scared companions.[2]
To leave a port in our condition was hard lines, but my perishing crew
could get no succour at Maldonado, so we could do nothing but leave, if
at all able to do so. We were indeed short-handed, but desperation
lending a hand, the anchor was weighed and sufficient sail set on the
bark to clear the inhospitable port. The wind blowing fair out of the
harbour carried us away from the port toward Flores Island, for which we
now headed in sore distress. A gale, long to be remembered, sprang
suddenly up, stripping off our sails like autumn leaves, before the bark
was three leagues from the place. We hadn't strength to clew up, so her
sails were blown away, and she went flying before the mad tempest under
bare poles. A snow-white sea-bird came for shelter from the storm, and
poised on the deck to rest. The incident filled my sailors with awe; to
them it was a portentous omen, and in distress they dragged themselves
together and, prostrate before the bird, prayed the Holy Virgin to ask
God to keep them from harm. The rain beat on us in torrents, as the bark
tossed and reeled ahead, and day turned black as night. The gale was
from E.S.E., and our course lay W.N.W. nearly, or nearly before it. I
stood at the wheel with my shore clothes on, I remember, for I hadn't
yet had time to change them for waterproofs; this of itself was small
matter, but it reminds me now that I was busy with other concerns. I was
always a good helmsman, and I took in hand now the steering of the bark
in the storm--and I gave directions to Victor and the carpenter how to
mix disinfectants for themselves, and medicines for the sick men. The
medicine chest was fairly supplied.
Flores, when seen, was but a few ship's lengths away. Flashes of
lightning revealed the low cliffs, amazingly near to us, and as the bark
swept by with great speed, the roar of the breakers on the shore, heard
above the din of the storm, told us of a danger to beware. The helm was
then put down, and she came to under the lee of the island like a true,
obedient thing.
Both anchors were let go, and all the chain paid out to both, to the
bitter end, for the gale was now a hurricane. She walked away with her
anchors for all that we could do, till, hooking a marine cable, one was
carried away, and the other brought her head to the wind, and held her
there trembling in the storm.
Anxious fear lest the second cable should break was on our minds through
the night; but a greater danger was within the ship, that filled us all
with alarm.
Two barks not far from us that night, with pilots on board, were lost,
in trying to come through where the _Aquidneck_, without a pilot and
with but three hands on deck to work her, came in. Their crews, with
great difficulty, were rescued and then carried to Montevideo. When all
had been done that we three could do, a light was put in the rigging,
that flickered in the gale and went out. Then wet, and lame, and weary,
we fell down in our drenched clothes, to rest as we might--to sleep, or
to listen to groans of our dying shipmates.
When daylight came (after this, the most dismal of all my nights at
sea), our signals went up telling of the sad condition of the crew, and
begging for medical assistance. Toward night the gale went down; but, as
no boat came off, a gloom darker than midnight settled over the crew of
the pest-ridden bark, and in dismay they again prayed to be spared to
meet the loved ones awaiting them at home.
Our repeated signals, next day, brought the reply, "Stand in."
_Carramba!_ Why, we could hardly stand at all; much less could we get
the bark underway, and beat in against wind and current. No one knew
this better than they on the island, for my signals had told the whole
story, and as we were only a mile and a half from the shore, the flags
were distinctly made out. There was no doubt in our minds about that!
Late in the day, however, a barge came out to us, ill-manned and
ill-managed by as scared a set of "galoots" as ever capsized a boat, or
trembled at a shadow! The coxswain had more to say than the doctor, and
the Yahoo--I forgot to mention that we were still in Yahoodom, but one
would see that without this explanation--the Yahoo in the bow said more
than both; and they all took a stiff pull from a bottle of
_cachazza_,[3] the doctor having had the start, I should say, of at
least one or two pulls before leaving the shore, insomuch as he appeared
braver than the rest of the crew.
The doctor, having taken an extra horn or two, with Dutch courage came
on board, and brought with him a pound of sulphur, a pint of carbolic
acid, and some barley--enough to feed a robin a few times, for all of
which we were thankful indeed, our disinfectants being by this time
nearly exhausted; then, glancing at the prostrate men, he hurried away,
as the other had done at Maldonado. I asked what I should do with the
dead through the night--bury them where we lay? "Oh, no, no!" cried the
Yahoo in the bow; but the doctor pointed significantly to the water
alongside! I knew what he meant!
That night we buried Jose, the sailor whose honest smile had welcomed me
to my bark at Montevideo. I had ordered stones brought on deck, before
dark, ostensibly to ballast the boat. I knew they would soon be wanted!
About midnight, the cook called me in sore distress, saying that Jose
was dying without confession!
So poor Jose was buried that night in the great River Plate! I listened
to the solemn splash that told of one life ended, and its work done; but
gloomy, and sad, and melancholy as the case was, I had to smile when the
cook, not having well-secured the ballast, threw it over after his
friend, exclaiming, "Good-bye, Jose, good-bye!" I added, "Good-bye, good
shipmate, good-bye! I doubt not that you rest well!"
Next day, the signal from the shore was the same as the day before,
"Stand in," in answer to my repeated call for help. By this time my men
were demoralized and panic-stricken, and the poor fellows begged me, if
the doctor would not try to cure them, to get a priest to confess them
all. I saw a padre pacing the beach, and set flags asking him to come on
board. No notice was taken of the signal, and we were now left entirely
to ourselves.
After burying one more of the crew, we decided to remain no longer at
this terrible place. An English telegraph tender passing, outward-bound,
caught up our signals at that point, and kindly reported to her consul
at Maldonado, who wired it to Montevideo.
The wind blowing away from the shore, as may it always blow when friend
of mine nears that coast, we determined to weigh anchor or slip cable
without further loss of time, feeling assured that by the telegraph
reports some one would be on the look-out for us, and that the
_Aquidneck_ would be towed into port if the worst should happen--if the
rest of her crew went down. Three of us weighed one anchor, with its
ninety fathoms of chain, the other had parted on the windlass in the
gale. The bark's prow was now turned toward Montevideo, the place we had
so recently sailed from, full of hope and pleasant anticipation; and
here we were, dejected and filled with misery, some of our number
already gone on that voyage which somehow seems so far away.
At Montevideo, things were better. They _did_ take my remaining sick men
out of the vessel, after two days' delay; my agent procuring a tug,
which towed them in the ship's boat three hundred fathoms astern. In
this way they were taken to Flores Island, where, days and days before,
they had been refused admittance! They were accompanied this time by an
order from the governor of Montevideo, and at last were taken in. Two of
the cases were, by this time, in the favourable change. But the poor old
cook, who stood faithfully by me, and would not desert his old
shipmates, going with them to the Island to care for them to the last,
took the dread disease, died of it, and was there buried, not far from
where he himself had buried his friend Jose, a short time before. The
death of this faithful man occurred on the day that the bark finally
sailed seaward, by the Island. She was in sight from the hospital
window when his phantom ship, that put out, carried him over the bar!
His widow, at Paranagua, I was told, on learning the fate of her
husband, died of grief.
The work of disinfecting the vessel, at Montevideo, after the sick were
removed, was a source of speculation that was most elaborately carried
on. Demijohns of carbolic acid were put on board, by the dozen, at $3.00
per demijohn, all diluted ready for use; and a _guardo_ was put on board
to use it up, which he did religiously over his own precious self, in my
after-cabin, as far from the end of the ship where the danger was as he
could get. Some one else disinfected _el proa_, not he! Abundant as the
stuff was, I had to look sharp for enough to wash out forward while aft
it was knee-deep almost, at three dollars a jar! The harpy that alighted
on deck at Maldonado sent in his bill for one hundred dollars--I paid
eighty.
The cost to me of all this trouble in money paid out, irrelevantly to
mention, was over a thousand dollars. What it cost me in health and
mental anxiety cannot be estimated by such value. Still, I was not the
greatest sufferer. My hardest task was to come, you will believe, at the
gathering up of the trinkets and other purchases which the crew had
made, thoughtful of wife and child at home. All had to be burned, or
spoiled with carbolic acid! A hat for the little boy here, a pair of
boots for his mamma there, and many things for the _familia_ all
around--all had to be destroyed!
FOOTNOTES:
[2] In our discourse, Yahoo was spoken, but I write it in
English because many of my readers would not understand the original.
The signals that we used were made by universal code symbols. For
example, two flags hoisted representing "P" "D" signified "want (or
wants) immediate medical assistance." And so on, by hoists of two, three
or four flags representing the consonants, our wants and wishes could be
made known, each possessing the key to the code.
Our commercial code of signals is so invented and arranged that no
matter what tongues may meet, perhaps those utterly incomprehensible by
word of mouth, yet by these signs communications may be carried on with
great facility. The whole system is so beautifully simple that a child
of ordinary intelligence can understand it. Even the Yahoos were made to
comprehend--when not colour-blind. And, lest they should forget their
lesson, a gunboat is sent out every year or two, to fire it into them
with cannon.
[3] This _cachazza_ is said to be death to microbes, or even to
larger worms; it will kill anything, in fact, except a Yahoo!
CHAPTER VIII
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.
CHAPTER IX
The building of the _Liberdade_.
Away, away, no cloud is lowering o'er us
Freely now we stem the wave;
Hoist, hoist all sail, before us
Hope's beacon shines to cheer the brave.
--_Masaniello_.
When all had been saved from the wreck that was worth saving, or that
could be saved, we found ourselves still in the possession of some goods
soon to become of great value to us, especially my compass and charts
which, though much damaged, were yet serviceable and suggested practical
usefulness; and the chronometer being found intact, my course was no
longer undecided, my wife and sons agreeing with what I thought best.
The plan, in a word, was this: We could not beg our way, neither would
we sit idle among the natives. We found that it would require more
courage to remain in the far-off country than to return home in a boat,
which then we concluded to build and for that purpose.[4]
My son Victor, with much pride and sympathy, entered heartily into the
plan, which promised a speedy return home. He bent his energies in a
practical direction, working on the boat like an old builder.
Before entering on the project, however, all responsibilities were
considered. Swift ocean currents around capes and coral reefs were taken
into account; and above all else to be called dangerous we knew would
be the fierce tropical storms which surely we would encounter.
[Illustration: Diagram of the _Liberdade_
(Length 35 ft. beam 71/2 ft., draught 21/2 ft. weight 6 tons.)]
But a boat should be built stout and strong, we all said, one in which
we should not be afraid to trust our lives even in the storm.
And with the advantage of experience in ships and boats of various sizes
and in many seas, I turned to the work of constructing, according to my
judgment and means, a craft which would be best adapted to all weathers
and all circumstances. My family with sympathetic strength pulling hard
in the same direction.
Seaworthiness was to be the first and most prominent feature in our
microscopic ship; next to this good quality she should sail well; at
least before free winds. We counted on favourable winds; and so they
were experienced the greater part of the voyage that soon followed.
Long exposures and many and severe disappointments by this time, I
found, had told on health and nerve, through long quarantines, expensive
fumigations, and ruinous doctors' visits, which had swept my dollars
into hands other than mine. However, with still a "shot in the locker,"
and with some feelings of our own in the matter of how we should get
home, I say, we set to work with tools saved from the wreck--a meagre
kit--and soon found ourselves in command of another ship, which I will
describe the building of, also the dimensions and the model and rig,
first naming the tools with which it was made.
To begin with, we had an axe, an adze, and two saws, one 1/2inch auger,
one 6/8 and one 3/8 auger-bit; two large sail-needles, which we
converted into nailing bits; one roper, that answered for a punch; and,
most precious of all, a file that we found in an old sail-bag washed up
on the beach. A square we readily made. Two splints of bamboo wood
served as compasses. Charcoal, pounded as fine as flour and mixed in
water, took the place of chalk for the line; the latter we had on hand.
In cases where holes larger than the 6/8 bit were required, a piece of
small jack-stay iron was heated, and with this we could burn a hole to
any size required. So we had, after all, quite a kit to go on with.
Clamps, such as are used by boat builders, we had not, but made
substitutes from the crooked guava tree and from _massaranduba_ wood.
Trees from the neighbouring forest were felled when the timber from the
wrecked cargo would not answer. Some of these woods that we sought for
special purposes had queer sounding names, such as _arregebah,
guanandee, batetenandinglastampai_, etc. This latter we did not use the
saw upon at all, it being very hard, but hewed it with the axe, bearing
in mind that we had but one file, whereas for the edged tools we had but
to go down to a brook hard by to find stones in abundance suitable to
sharpen them on.
The many hindrances encountered in the building of the boat will not be
recounted here. Among the least was a jungle fever, from which we
suffered considerably. But all that and all other obstacles vanished at
last, or became less, before a new energy which grew apace with the
boat, and the building of the craft went rapidly forward. There was no
short day system, but we rested on the Sabbath, or surveyed what we had
done through the week, and made calculations of what and how to strike
on the coming week.
The unskilled part of the labour, such as sawing the cedar planks, of
which she was mostly made, was done by the natives, who saw in a rough
fashion, always leaving much planing and straightening to be done, in
order to adjust the timber to a suitable shape. The planks for the
bottom were of ironwood, 11/4 X 10 inches. For the sides and top red cedar
was used, each plank, with the exception of two, reaching the whole
length of the boat. This arrangement of exceedingly heavy wood in the
bottom, and the light on top, contributed much to the stability of the
craft.
The ironwood was heavy as stone, while the cedar, being light and
elastic, lent buoyancy and suppleness, all that we could wish for.
The fastenings we gathered up in various places, some from the bulwarks
of the wreck, some from the hinges of doors and skylights, and some were
made from the ship's metal sheathing, which the natives melted and cast
into nails. Pure copper nails, also, were procured from the natives,
some ten _kilos_, for which I paid in copper coins, at the rate of two
_kilos_ of coin for one _kilo_ of nails. The same kind of coins, called
_dumps_, cut into diamond-shaped pieces, with holes punched through
them, entered into the fastenings as burrs for the nails. A number of
small eyebolts from the spanker-boom of the wreck were turned to account
for lashing bolts in the deck of the new vessel. The nails, when too
long, were cut to the required length, taking care that the ends which
were cut off should not be wasted, but remelted, along with the metal
sheathing, into other nails.
Some carriage bolts, with nuts, which I found in the country, came in
very handy; these I adjusted to the required length, when too long, by
slipping on blocks of wood of the required thickness to take up the
surplus length, putting the block, of course, on the inside, and
counter-sinking the nut flush with the planks on the outside; then
screwing from the inside outward, they were drawn together, and there
held as in a vice, the planks being put together "lap-streak" fashion,
which without doubt is the strongest way to build a boat.
These screw-bolts, seventy in number, as well as the copper nails, cost
us dearly, but wooden pegs, with which also she was fastened, cost only
the labour of being made. The lashings, too, that we used here and there
about the frame of the cabin, cost next to nothing, being made from the
fibrous bark of trees, which could be had in abundance by the stripping
of it off. So, taking it by and large, our materials were not expensive,
the principal item being the timber, which cost about three cents per
superficial foot, sawed or hewed. Rosewood, ironwood, cedar or mahogany,
were all about the same price and very little in advance of common wood;
so of course we selected always the best, the labour of shaping being
least, sometimes, where the best materials were used.
These various timbers and fastenings, put together as best we could
shape and join them, made a craft sufficiently strong and seaworthy to
withstand all the bufferings on the main upon which, in due course, she
was launched.
The hull being completed, by various other contrivances and makeshifts
in which, sometimes, the "wooden blacksmith" was called in to assist,
and the mother of invention also lending a hand, fixtures were made
which served as well on the voyage as though made in a dockyard and at
great cost.
My builders baulked at nothing, and on the 13th day of May, the day on
which the slaves of Brazil were set free, our craft was launched, and
was named _Liberdade_ (Liberty).
Her dimensions being--35 feet in length over all, 71/2 feet breadth of
beam, and 3 feet depth of hold. Who shall say that she was not large
enough?
Her model I got from my recollections of Cape Ann dories and from a
photo of a very elegant Japanese _sampan_ which I had before me on the
spot, so, as it might be expected, when finished she resembled both
types of vessel in some degree.
Her rig was the Chinese _sampan_ style, which is, I consider, the most
convenient boat rig in the whole world.
This was the boat, or canoe I prefer to call it, in which we purposed to
sail for North America and home. Each one had been busy during the
construction and past misfortunes had all been forgotten. Madam had made
the sails--and very good sails they were, too!
Victor, the carpenter, ropemaker, and general roustabout had performed
his part. Our little man, Garfield, too, had found employment in holding
the hammer to clinch the nails and giving much advice on the coming
voyage. All were busy, I say, and no one had given a thought of what we
were about to encounter from the port officials farther up the coast; it
was pretended by them that a passport could not be granted to so small a
craft to go on so long a voyage as the contemplated one to North
America.
Then fever returned to the writer and the constructor of the little
craft, and I was forced to go to bed, remaining there three days.
Finally, it came to my mind that in part of a medicine chest, which had
been saved from the wreck, was stored some _arsenicum_, I think it is
called. Of this I took several doses (small ones at first, you may be
sure), and the good effect of the deadly poison on the malaria in my
system was soon felt trickling through my veins. Increasing the doses
somewhat, I could perceive the beneficial effect hour by hour, and in a
few days I had quite recovered from the malady. Absurd as it was to have
the judgment of sailors set on by pollywog navigators, we had still to
submit, the pollywogs being numerous.
About this time--as the astrologers say--a messenger came down from the
_Alfandega_ (Custom House), asking me to repair thither at midday on the
morrow. This filled me with alarm. True, the messenger has delivered his
message in the politest possible manner, but that signified nothing,
since Brazilians are always polite. This thing, small as it seems now,
came near sending me back to the fever.
What had I done?
I went up next day, after having nightmare badly all night, prepared to
say that I wouldn't do it again! The kind administrator I found, upon
presenting myself at his office, had no fault to charge me with; but had
a good word, instead. "The little _Liberdade_," he observed, had
attracted the notice of his people and his own curiosity, as being "a
handsome and well-built craft." This and many other flattering
expressions were vented, at which I affected surprise, but secretly
said, "I think you are right, sir, and you have good taste, too, if you
are a customs officer."
The drift of this flattery, to make a long story short, was to have me
build a boat for the _Alfandega_, or, his government not allowing money
to build new--pointing to one which certainly would require new keel,
planks, ribs, stem, and stern-post--"could I not repair one?"
To this proposition I begged time to consider. Flattering as the
officer's words were, and backed by the offer of liberal pay, so long as
the boat could be "repaired," I still had no mind to remain in the hot
country, and risk getting the fever again. But there was the old hitch
to be gotten over; namely, the passport, on which, we thought, depended
our sailing.
However, to expedite matters, a fishing licence was hit upon, and I
wondered why I had not thought of that before, having been, once upon a
time, a fisherman myself. Heading thence on a new diplomatic course, I
commenced to fit ostensibly for a fishing voyage. To this end, a fishing
net was made, which would be a good thing to have, anyway. Then hooks
and lines were rigged and a cable made. This cable, or rope, was formed
from vines that grow very long on the sand-banks just above tide water,
several of which twisted together make a very serviceable rope, then
being light and elastic, it is especially adapted for a boat anchor
rope, or for the storm drag. Ninety fathoms of this rope was made for us
by the natives, for the sum of ten milreis ($5.00).
The anchor came of itself almost. I had made a wooden one from heavy
sinking timber, but a stalwart ranchman coming along, one day, brought a
boat anchor with him which, he said, had been used by his slaves as a
pot-hook. "But now that they are free and away," said he, "I have no
further use for the crooked thing." A sewing-machine, which had served
to stitch the sails together, was coveted by him, and was of no further
use to us; in exchange for this the prized anchor was readily secured,
the owner of it leaving us some boot into the bargain. Things working
thus in our favour, the wooden anchor was stowed away to be kept as a
spare bower.
These arrangements completed, our craft took on the appearance of a
fishing smack, and I began to feel somewhat in my old element, with no
fear of the lack of ways and means when we should arrive on our own
coast, where I knew of fishing banks. And a document which translated
read: "A licence to catch fish inside and outside of the bar" was
readily granted by the port authorities.
"How far outside the bar may this carry us?" I asked.
"_Quien sabe!_" said the officer. (Literally translated, "Who knows?"
but in Spanish or Portuguese used for, "Nobody knows, or, I don't
care.")
"Adieu, senor," said the polite official; "we will meet in heaven!"
This meant you can go since you insist upon it, but I must not
officially know of it; and you will probably go to the bottom. In this
he and many others were mistaken.
Having the necessary document now in our possession, we commenced to
take in stores for the voyage, as follows: Sea-biscuits, 120 lbs.;
flour, 25 lbs.; sugar, 30 lbs.; coffee, 9 lbs., which, roasted black and
pounded fine as wheaten flour, was equal to double the amount as
prepared in North America, and afforded us a much more delicious cup.
Of tea we had 3 lbs.; pork, 20 lbs.; dried beef, 100 lbs.; _baccalao
secca_ (dried codfish), 20 lbs.; 2 bottles of honey, 200 oranges, 6
bunches of bananas, 120 gallons of water; also a small basket of yams,
and a dozen sticks of sugar-cane, by way of vegetables.
Our medicine chest contained Brazil nuts, pepper, and cinnamon; no other
medicines or condiments were required on the voyage, except table salt,
which we also had.
One musket and a carbine--which had already stood us in good
stead--together with ammunition and three cutlasses were stowed away for
last use, to be used, nevertheless, in case of necessity.
The light goods I stowed in the ends of the canoe, the heavier in the
middle and along the bottom, thus economizing space and lending to the
stability of the canoe. Over the top of the midship stores a floor was
made, which, housed over by a tarpaulin roof reaching three feet above
the deck of the canoe, supported by a frame of bamboo, gave us sitting
space of four feet from the floor to the roof, and twelve feet long
amidships. This arrangement of cabin in the centre gave my passengers a
berth where the least motion would be felt; even this is saying but
little, for best we could do to avoid it we had still to accept much
tossing from the waves.
Precautionary measures were taken in everything, so far as our resources
and skill could reach. The springy and buoyant bamboo was used wherever
stick of any kind was required, such as the frame and braces for the
cabin, yards for the sails, and, finally, for guard on her top sides,
making the canoe altogether a self-righting one, in case of a capsize.
Each joint in the bamboo was an air-chamber of several pounds buoyant
capacity, and we had a thousand joints.
The most important of our stores, particularly the flour, bread, and
coffee, were hermetically sealed, so that if actually turned over at
sea, our craft would not only right herself, but would bring her stores
right side up, in good order, and it then would be only a question of
baling her out, and of setting her again on her course, when we would
come on as right as ever. As it turned out, however, no such trial or
mishap awaited us.
While the possibility of many and strange occurrences was felt by all of
us, the danger which loomed most in little Garfield's mind was that of
the sharks.
A fine specimen was captured on the voyage, showing five rows of pearly
teeth, as sharp as lances.
Some of these monsters, it is said, have nine rows of teeth; that they
are always hungry is admitted by sailors of great experience.
How it is that sailors can go in bathing, as they often do, in the face
of a danger so terrible, is past my comprehension. Their business is to
face danger, to be sure, but this is a needless exposure, for which the
penalty is sometimes a life. The second mate of a bark on the coast of
Cuba, not long ago, was bitten in twain, and the portions swallowed
whole by a monster shark that he had tempted in this way. The shark was
captured soon after, and the poor fellow's remains taken out of the
revolting maw.
Leaving the sharks where they are, I gladly return to the voyage of the
_Liberdade_.
FOOTNOTE:
[4] This alternative I was obliged to accept, or bring my
family home as paupers, for my wealth was gone--need I explain more?
This explanation has been forced from me.
[Illustration: The _Liberdade_]
CHAPTER X
Across the bar--The run to Santos--Tow to Rio by the steamship--At
Rio.
The efficiency of our canoe was soon discovered: On the 24th of June,
after having sailed about the bay some few days to temper our feelings
to the new craft, and shake things into place, we crossed the bar and
stood out to sea, while six vessels lay inside "bar-bound," that is to
say by their pilots it was thought too rough to venture out, and they,
the pilots, stood on the point as we put out to sea, crossing themselves
in our behalf, and shouting that the bar was _crudo_. But the
_Liberdade_ stood on her course, the crew never regretting it.
The wind from the sou'west at the time was the moderating side of a
_pampeiro_ which had brought in a heavy swell from the ocean, that broke
and thundered on the bar with deafening roar and grand display of
majestic effort.
But our little ship bounded through the breakers like a fish--as natural
to the elements, and as free!
Of all the seas that broke furiously about her that day, often standing
her on end, not one swept over or even boarded her, and she finally came
through the storm of breakers in triumph. Then squaring away before the
wind she spread her willing sails, and flew onward like a bird.
It required confidence and some courage to face the first storm in so
small a bark, after having been years in large ships; but it would have
required more courage than was possessed by any of us to turn back,
since thoughts of home had taken hold on our minds.
Then, too, the old boating trick came back fresh to me, the love of the
thing itself gaining on me as the little ship stood out: and my crew
with one voice said: "Go on." The heavy South Atlantic swell rolling in
upon the coast, as we sped along, toppled over when it reached the ten
fathom line, and broke into roaring combers, which forbade our nearer
approach to the land.
Evidently, our safest course was away from the shore, and out where the
swelling seas, though grand, were regular, and raced under our little
craft that danced like a mite on the ocean as she drove forward. In
twenty-four hours from the time Paranagua bar was crossed we were up
with Santos Heads, a run of 150 miles.
A squall of wind burst on us through a gulch, as we swept round the
Heads, tearing our sails into shreds, and sending us into Santos under
bare poles.
Chancing then upon an old friend, the mail steamship _Finance_, Capt.
Baker, about to sail for Rio, the end of a friendly line was extended to
us, and we were towed by the stout steamer toward Rio, the next day, as
fast as we could wish to go. My wife and youngest sailor took passage on
the steamer, while Victor remained in the canoe with me, and stood by
with axe in hand, to cut the tow-line, if the case should require
it--and I steered.
"Look out," said Baker, as the steamer began to move ahead, "look out
that I don't snake that canoe out from under you."
"Go on with your mails, Baker," was all I could say, "don't blow up your
ship with my wife and son on board, and I will look out for the packet
on the other end of the rope."
Baker opened her up to thirteen knots, but the _Liberdade_ held on!
The line that we towed with was 1-1/3 inches in diameter, by ninety
fathoms long. This, at times when the steamer surged over seas, leaving
the canoe on the opposite side of a wave astern, would become as taut as
a harp-string. At other times it would slacken and sink limp in a bight,
under the forefoot, but only for a moment, however, when the steamer's
next great plunge ahead would snap it taut again, pulling us along with
a heavy, trembling jerk. Under the circumstances, straight steering was
imperative, for a sheer to port or starboard would have finished the
career of the _Liberdade_, by sending her under the sea. Therefore, the
trick of twenty hours fell to me--the oldest and most experienced
helmsman. But I was all right and not over-fatigued until Baker cast oil
upon the "troubled waters." I soon got tired of that.
Victor was under the canvas covering, with the axe still in hand, ready
to cut the line which was so arranged that he could reach it from
within, and cut instantly, if by mischance the canoe should take a
sheer.
I was afraid that the lad would become sleepy, and putting his head
"under his wing" for a nap, would forget his post, but my frequent cry,
"Stand by there, Victor," found him always on hand, though complaining
somewhat of the dizzy motion.
Heavy sprays dashed over me at the helm, which, however, seeming to wash
away the sulphur and brimstone smoke of many a quarantine, brought
enjoyment to my mind.
Confused waves rose about us, high and dangerous--often high above the
gunwale of the canoe--but her shapely curves balanced her well, and she
rode over them all in safety.
This canoe ride was thrilling and satisfactory to us all. It proved
beyond a doubt that we had in this little craft a most extraordinary
sea-boat, for the tow was a thorough test of her seaworthiness.
The captain of the steamer ordered oil cast over from time to time,
relieving us of much spray and sloppy motion, but adding to discomforts
of taste to me at the helm, for much of the oil blew over me and in my
face. Said the captain to one of his mates (an old whaler by the way,
and whalers for some unaccountable reason have never too much regard for
a poor merchantman), "Mr. Smith."
"Aye, aye, sir," answered old Smith.
"Mr. Smith, hoist out that oil."
"Aye, aye, sir," said the old "blubberhunter," in high glee, as he went
about it with alacrity, and in less than five minutes from the time the
order was given, I was smothering in grease and our boat was oiled from
keel to truck.
"She's all right now," said Smith.
"That's all right," said Baker, but I thought it all wrong. The wind,
meanwhile, was in our teeth and before we crossed Rio bar I had
swallowed enough oil to cure any amount of consumption.
Baker, I have heard, said he wouldn't care much if he should "drown
Slocum." But I was all right so long as the canoe didn't sheer, and we
arrived at Rio safe and sound after the most exciting boat-ride of my
life. I was bound not to cut the line that towed us so well; and I knew
that Baker wouldn't let it go, for it was his rope.
I found at Rio that my fishing licence could be exchanged for a pass of
greater import. This document had to be procured through the office of
the Minister of Marine.
Many a smart linguist was ready to use his influence on my behalf with
the above-named high official; but I found at the end of a month that I
was making headway about as fast as a Dutch galliot in a head sea after
the wind had subsided. Our worthy Consul, General H. Clay Armstrong,
gave me a hint of what the difficulty was and how to obviate it. I then
went about the business myself as I should have done at first, and I
found those at the various departments who were willing to help me
without the intervention of outside "influence."
Commander Marquis of the Brazilian navy recommended me to His
Excellency, the Minister of Marine, "out of regard," he said, "for
American seamen," and when the new document came it was "_Passe
Especial_," and had on it _a seal as big as a soup plate_. A port naval
officer then presented me to the good _Administradore,_ who also gave me
a _passe especial_, with the seal of the _Alfandega_.
I had now only to procure a bill of |
