<SPAN name="chap31"></SPAN>
<h3> CHAPTER XXXI </h3>
<h3> BAD PROSPECTS—FIRST TOUCH OF CAPE HORN—ICEBERGS—TEMPERANCE SHIPS—LYING-UP—ICE—DIFFICULTY ON BOARD—CHANGE OF COURSE—STRAITS OF MAGELLAN </h3>
<p>There now began to be a decided change in the appearance of things. The
days became shorter and shorter; the sun running lower in its course
each day, and giving less and less heat; and the nights so cold as to
prevent our sleeping on deck; the Magellan Clouds in sight, of a clear
night; the skies looking cold and angry; and, at times, a long, heavy,
ugly sea, setting in from the southwards told us what we were coming
to. Still, however, we had a fine, strong breeze, and kept on our way,
under as much sail as our ship would bear. Toward the middle of the
week, the wind hauled to the southward, which brought us upon a taut
bowline, made the ship meet, nearly head on, the heavy swell which
rolled from that direction; and there was something not at all
encouraging in the manner in which she met it. Being so deep and
heavy, she wanted the buoyancy which should have carried her over the
seas, and she dropped heavily into them, the water washing over the
decks; and every now and then, when an unusually large sea met her
fairly upon the bows, she struck it with a sound as dead and heavy as
that with which a sledge-hammer falls upon the pile, and took the whole
of it in upon the forecastle, and rising, carried it aft in the
scuppers, washing the rigging off the pins, and carrying along with it
everything which was loose on deck. She had been acting in this way
all of our forenoon watch below; as we could tell by the washing of the
water over our heads, and the heavy breaking of the seas against her
bows, (with a sound as though she were striking against a rock,) only
the thickness of the plank from our heads, as we lay in our berths,
which are directly against the bows. At eight bells, the watch was
called, and we came on deck, one hand going aft to take the wheel, and
another going to the galley to get the grub for dinner. I stood on the
forecastle, looking at the seas, which were rolling high, as far as the
eye could reach, their tops white with foam, and the body of them of a
deep indigo blue, reflecting the bright rays of the sun. Our ship rose
slowly over a few of the largest of them, until one immense fellow came
rolling on, threatening to cover her, and which I was sailor enough to
know, by "the feeling of her" under my feet, she would not rise over.
I sprang upon the knight-heads, and seizing hold of the fore-stay with
my hands, drew myself upon it. My feet were just off the stanchion,
when she struck fairly into the middle of the sea, and it washed her
fore and aft, burying her in the water. As soon as she rose out of it,
I looked aft, and everything forward of the main-mast, except the
long-boat, which was griped and double-lashed down to the ring-bolts,
was swept off clear. The galley, the pig-sty, the hen-coop, and a
large sheep-pen which had been built upon the forehatch, were all gone,
in the twinkling of an eye—leaving the deck as clean as a chin
new-reaped—and not a stick left, to show where they had stood. In the
scuppers lay the galley, bottom up, and a few boards floating about,
the wreck of the sheep-pen,—and half a dozen miserable sheep floating
among them, wet through, and not a little frightened at the sudden
change that had come upon them. As soon as the sea had washed by, all
hands sprung out of the forecastle to see what had become of the ship
and in a few moments the cook and old Bill crawled out from under the
galley, where they had been lying in the water, nearly smothered, with
the galley over them. Fortunately, it rested against the bulwarks, or
it would have broken some of their bones. When the water ran off, we
picked the sheep up, and put them in the long-boat, got the galley back
in its place, and set things a little to rights; but, had not our ship
had uncommonly high bulwarks and rail, everything must have been washed
overboard, not excepting Old Bill and the cook.</p>
<p>Bill had been standing at the galley-door, with the kid of beef in his
hand for the forecastle mess, when, away he went, kid, beef, and all.
He held on to the kid till the last, like a good fellow, but the beef
was gone, and when the water had run off, we saw it lying high and dry,
like a rock at low tide—nothing could hurt that. We took the loss of
our beef very easily, consoling ourselves with the recollection that
the cabin had more to lose than we; and chuckled not a little at seeing
the remains of the chicken-pie and pan-cakes floating in the scuppers.
"This will never do!" was what some said, and every one felt. Here we
were, not yet within a thousand miles of the latitude of Cape Horn, and
our decks swept by a sea not one half so high as we must expect to find
there. Some blamed the captain for loading his ship so deep, when he
knew what he must expect; while others said that the wind was always
southwest, off the Cape, in the winter; and that, running before it, we
should not mind the seas so much. When we got down into the
forecastle, Old Bill, who was somewhat of a croaker,—having met with a
great many accidents at sea—said that if that was the way she was
going to act, we might as well make our wills, and balance the books at
once, and put on a clean shirt. "'Vast there, you bloody old owl!
You're always hanging out blue lights! You're frightened by the
ducking you got in the scuppers, and can't take a joke! What's the use
in being always on the look-out for Davy Jones?" "Stand by!" says
another, "and we'll get an afternoon watch below, by this scrape;" but
in this they were disappointed, for at two bells, all hands were called
and set to work, getting lashings upon everything on deck; and the
captain talked of sending down the long top-gallant masts; but, as the
sea went down toward night, and the wind hauled abeam, we left them
standing, and set the studding-sails.</p>
<p>The next day, all hands were turned-to upon unbending the old sails,
and getting up the new ones; for a ship, unlike people on shore, puts
on her best suit in bad weather. The old sails were sent down, and
three new topsails, and new fore and main courses, jib, and
fore-topmast staysail, which were made on the coast, and never had been
used, were bent, with a complete set of new earings, robands and
reef-points; and reef-tackles were rove to the courses, and
spilling-lines to the top-sails. These, with new braces and clew-lines,
fore and aft, gave us a good suit of running rigging.</p>
<p>The wind continued westerly, and the weather and sea less rough since
the day on which we shipped the heavy sea, and we were making great
progress under studding-sails, with our light sails all set, keeping a
little to the eastward of south; for the captain, depending upon
westerly winds off the Cape, had kept so far to the westward, that
though we were within about five hundred miles of the latitude of Cape
Horn, we were nearly seventeen hundred miles to the westward of it.
Through the rest of the week, we continued on with a fair wind,
gradually, as we got more to the southward, keeping a more easterly
course, and bringing the wind on our larboard quarter, until—</p>
<p>Sunday, June 26th, when, having a fine, clear day, the captain got a
lunar observation, as well as his meridian altitude, which made us in
lat. 47° 50' S., long. 113° 49' W.; Cape Horn bearing, according to my
calculation, E. S. E. 1/2 E., and distant eighteen hundred miles.</p>
<p>Monday, June 27th. During the first part of this day, the wind
continued fair, and, as we were going before it, it did not feel very
cold, so that we kept at work on deck, in our common clothes and round
jackets. Our watch had an afternoon watch below, for the first time
since leaving San Diego, and having inquired of the third mate what the
latitude was at noon, and made our usual guesses as to the time she
would need, to be up with the Horn, we turned-in, for a nap. We were
sleeping away "at the rates of knots," when three knocks on the
scuttle, and "All hands ahoy!" started us from our berths. What could
be the matter? It did not appear to be blowing hard, and looking up
through the scuttle, we could see that it was a clear day, overhead;
yet the watch were taking in sail.</p>
<p>We thought there must be a sail in sight, and that we were about to
heave-to and speak her; and were just congratulating ourselves upon
it—for we had seen neither sail nor land since we had left port—when
we heard the mate's voice on deck, (he turned-in "all standing," and
was always on deck the moment he was called,) singing out to the men
who were taking in the studding-sails, and asking where his watch were.
We did not wait for a second call, but tumbled up the ladder; and
there, on the starboard bow, was a bank of mist, covering sea and sky,
and driving directly for us. I had seen the same before, in my passage
round in the Pilgrim, and knew what it meant, and that there was no
time to be lost. We had nothing on but thin clothes, yet there was not
a moment to spare, and at it we went.</p>
<p>The boys of the other watch were in the tops, taking in the top-gallant
studding-sails, and the lower and topmast studding-sails were coming
down by the run. It was nothing but "haul down and clew up," until we
got all the studding-sails in, and the royals, flying-jib, and mizen
top-gallant sail furled, and the ship kept off a little, to take the
squall. The fore and main top-gallant sails were still on her, for the
"old man" did not mean to be frightened in broad daylight, and was
determined to carry sail till the last minute.</p>
<p>We all stood waiting for its coming, when the first blast showed us
that it was not be trifled with. Rain, sleet, snow, and wind, enough
to take our breath from us, and make the toughest turn his back to
windward! The ship lay nearly over on her beam-ends; the spars and
rigging snapped and cracked; and her top-gallant masts bent like
whip-sticks. "Clew up the fore and main top-gallant sails!" shouted
the captain, and all hands sprang to the clewlines. The decks were
standing nearly at an angle of forty-five degrees, and the ship going
like a mad steed through the water, the whole forward part of her in a
smother of foam. The halyards were let go and the yard clewed down,
and the sheets started, and in a few minutes the sails smothered and
kept in by clewlines and buntlines.—"Furl 'em, sir?" asked the
mate.—"Let go the topsail halyards, fore and aft!" shouted the
captain, in answer, at the top of his voice. Down came the topsail
yards, the reef-tackles were manned and hauled out, and we climbed up
to windward, and sprang into the weather rigging. The violence of the
wind, and the hail and sleet, driving nearly horizontally across the
ocean, seemed actually to pin us down to the rigging. It was hard work
making head against them. One after another, we got out upon the
yards. And here we had work to do; for our new sails, which had hardly
been bent long enough to get the starch out of them, were as stiff as
boards, and the new earings and reef-points, stiffened with the sleet,
knotted like pieces of iron wire. Having only our round jackets and
straw hats on, we were soon wet through, and it was every moment
growing colder. Our hands were soon stiffened and numbed, which, added
to the stiffness of everything else, kept us a good while on the yard.
After we had got the sail hauled upon the yard, we had to wait a long
time for the weather earing to be passed; but there was no fault to be
found, for French John was at the earing, and a better sailor never
laid out on a yard; so we leaned over the yard, and beat our hands upon
the sail to keep them from freezing. At length the word came—"Haul
out to leeward,"—and we seized the reef-points and hauled the band
taut for the lee earing. "taut band—Knot away," and we got the
first reef fast, and were just going to lay down, when—"Two reefs—two
reefs!" shouted the mate, and we had a second reef to take, in the same
way. When this was fast, we laid down on deck, manned the halyards to
leeward, nearly up to our knees in water, set the topsail, and then
laid aloft on the main topsail yard, and reefed that sail in the same
manner; for, as I have before stated, we were a good deal reduced in
numbers, and, to make it worse, the carpenter, only two days before,
cut his leg with an axe, so that he could not go aloft. This weakened
us so that we could not well manage more than one topsail at a time, in
such weather as this, and, of course, our labor was doubled. From the
main topsail yard, we went upon the main yard, and took a reef in the
mainsail. No sooner had we got on deck, than—"Lay aloft there,
mizen-top-men, and close-reef the mizen topsail!" This called me; and
being nearest to the rigging, I got first aloft, and out to the weather
earing. English Ben was on the yard just after me, and took the lee
earing, and the rest of our gang were soon on the yard, and began to
fist the sail, when the mate considerately sent up the cook and
steward, to help us. I could now account for the long time it took to
pass the other earings, for, to do my best, with a strong hand to help
me at the dog's ear, I could not get it passed until I heard them
beginning to complain in the bunt. One reef after another we took in,
until the sail was close-reefed, when we went down and hoisted away at
the halyards. In the mean time, the jib had been furled and the
staysail set, and the ship, under her reduced sail, had got more
upright and was under management; but the two top-gallant sails were
still hanging in the buntlines, and slatting and jerking as though they
would take the masts out of her. We gave a look aloft, and knew that
our work was not done yet; and, sure enough, no sooner did the mate see
that we were on deck, than—"Lay aloft there, four of you, and furl the
top-gallant sails!" This called me again, and two of us went aloft, up
the fore rigging, and two more up the main, upon the top-gallant yards.</p>
<p>The shrouds were now iced over, the sleet having formed a crust or cake
round all the standing rigging, and on the weather side of the masts
and yards. When we got upon the yard, my hands were so numb that I
could not have cast off the knot of the gasket to have saved my life.
We both lay over the yard for a few seconds, beating our hands upon the
sail, until we started the blood into our fingers' ends, and at the
next moment our hands were in a burning heat. My companion on the yard
was a lad, who came out in the ship a weak, puny boy, from one of the
Boston schools,—"no larger than a spritsail sheet knot," nor "heavier
than a paper of lamp-black," and "not strong enough to haul a shad off
a gridiron," but who was now "as long as a spare topmast, strong enough
to knock down an ox, and hearty enough to eat him." We fisted the sail
together, and after six or eight minutes of hard hauling and pulling
and beating down the sail, which was as stiff as sheet iron, we managed
to get it furled; and snugly furled it must be, for we knew the mate
well enough to be certain that if it got adrift again, we should be
called up from our watch below, at any hour of the night, to furl it.</p>
<p>I had been on the look-out for a moment to jump below and clap on a
thick jacket and south-wester; but when we got on deck we found that
eight bells had been struck, and the other watch gone below, so that
there were two hours of dog watch for us, and a plenty of work to do.
It had now set in for a steady gale from the south-west; but we were
not yet far enough to the southward to make a fair wind of it, for we
must give Terra del Fuego a wide berth. The decks were covered with
snow, and there was a constant driving of sleet. In fact, Cape Horn had
set in with good earnest. In the midst of all this, and before it
became dark, we had all the studding-sails to make up and stow away,
and then to lay aloft and rig in all the booms, fore and aft, and coil
away the tacks, sheets, and halyards. This was pretty tough work for
four or five hands, in the face of a gale which almost took us off the
yards, and with ropes so stiff with ice that it was almost impossible
to bend them. I was nearly half an hour out on the end of the fore
yard, trying to coil away and stop down the topmast studding-sail tack
and lower halyards. It was after dark when we got through, and we were
not a little pleased to hear four bells struck, which sent us below for
two hours, and gave us each a pot of hot tea with our cold beef and
bread, and, what was better yet, a suit of thick, dry clothing, fitted
for the weather, in place of our thin clothes, which were wet through
and now frozen stiff.</p>
<p>This sudden turn, for which we were so little prepared, was as
unacceptable to me as to any of the rest; for I had been troubled for
several days with a slight tooth-ache, and this cold weather, and
wetting and freezing, were not the best things in the world for it.</p>
<p>I soon found that it was getting strong hold, and running over all
parts of my face; and before the watch was out I went aft to the mate,
who had charge of the medicine-chest, to get something for it.</p>
<p>But the chest showed like the end of a long voyage, for there was
nothing that would answer but a few drops of laudanum, which must be
saved for any emergency; so I had only to bear the pain as well as I
could.</p>
<p>When we went on deck at eight bells, it had stopped snowing, and there
were a few stars out, but the clouds were still black, and it was
blowing a steady gale. Just before midnight, I went aloft and sent
down the mizen royal yard, and had the good luck to do it to the
satisfaction of the mate, who said it was done "out of hand and
ship-shape." The next four hours below were but little relief to me,
for I lay awake in my berth, the whole time, from the pain in my face,
and heard every bell strike, and, at four o'clock, turned out with the
watch, feeling little spirit for the hard duties of the day.</p>
<p>Bad weather and hard work at sea can be borne up against very well, if
one only has spirit and health; but there is nothing brings a man down,
at such a time, like bodily pain and want of sleep.</p>
<p>There was, however, too much to do to allow time to think; for the gale
of yesterday, and the heavy seas we met with a few days before, while
we had yet ten degrees more southing to make, had convinced the captain
that we had something before us which was not to be trifled with, and
orders were given to send down the long top-gallant masts. The
top-gallant and royal yards were accordingly struck, the flying
jib-boom rigged in, and the top-gallant masts sent down on deck, and
all lashed together by the side of the long-boat.</p>
<p>The rigging was then sent down and coiled away below, and everything
was made snug aloft. There was not a sailor in the ship who was not
rejoiced to see these sticks come down; for, so long as the yards were
aloft, on the least sign of a lull, the top-gallant sails were loosed,
and then we had to furl them again in a snow-squall, and shin up and
down single ropes caked with ice, and send royal yards down in the
teeth of a gale coming right from the south pole. It was an
interesting sight, too, to see our noble ship, dismantled of all her
top-hamper of long tapering masts and yards, and boom pointed with
spear-head, which ornamented her in port; and all that canvas, which a
few days before had covered her like a cloud, from the truck to the
water's edge, spreading far out beyond her hull on either side, now
gone; and she, stripped, like a wrestler for the fight. It
corresponded, too, with the desolate character of her
situation;—alone, as she was, battling with storms, wind, and ice, at
this extremity of the globe, and in almost constant night.</p>
<p>Friday, July 1st. We were now nearly up to the latitude of Cape Horn,
and having over forty degrees of easting to make, we squared away the
yards before a strong westerly gale, shook a reef out of the
fore-topsail, and stood on our way, east-by-south, with the prospect of
being up with the Cape in a week or ten days. As for myself, I had had
no sleep for forty-eight hours; and the want of rest, together with
constant wet and cold, had increased the swelling, so that my face was
nearly as large as two, and I found it impossible to get my mouth open
wide enough to eat. In this state, the steward applied to the captain
for some rice to boil for me, but he only got a—"No! d—- you! Tell
him to eat salt junk and hard bread, like the rest of them." For this,
of course, I was much obliged to him, and in truth it was just what I
expected. However, I did not starve, for the mate, who was a man as
well as a sailor, and had always been a good friend to me, smuggled a
pan of rice into the galley, and told the cook to boil it for me, and
not let the "old man" see it. Had it been fine weather, or in port, I
should have gone below and lain by until my face got well; but in such
weather as this, and short-handed as we were, it was not for me to
desert my post; so I kept on deck, and stood my watch and did my duty
as well as I could.</p>
<p>Saturday, July 2nd. This day the sun rose fair, but it ran too low in
the heavens to give any heat, or thaw out our sails and rigging; yet
the sight of it was pleasant; and we had a steady "reef topsail breeze"
from the westward. The atmosphere, which had previously been clear and
cold, for the last few hours grew damp, and had a disagreeable, wet
chilliness in it; and the man who came from the wheel said he heard the
captain tell "the passenger" that the thermometer had fallen several
degrees since morning, which he could not account for in any other way
than by supposing that there must be ice near us; though such a thing
had never been heard of in this latitude, at this season of the year.
At twelve o'clock we went below, and had just got through dinner, when
the cook put his head down the scuttle and told us to come on deck and
see the finest sight that we had ever seen. "Where away, cook?" asked
the first man who was up. "On the larboard bow." And there lay,
floating in the ocean, several miles off, an immense, irregular mass,
its top and points covered with snow, and its center of a deep indigo
color.</p>
<p>This was an iceberg, and of the largest size, as one of our men said
who had been in the Northern ocean. As far as the eye could reach, the
sea in every direction was of a deep blue color, the waves running high
and fresh, and sparkling in the light, and in the midst lay this
immense mountain-island, its cavities and valleys thrown into deep
shade, and its points and pinnacles glittering in the sun.</p>
<p>All hands were soon on deck, looking at it, and admiring in various
ways its beauty and grandeur. But no description can give any idea of
the strangeness, splendor, and, really, the sublimity, of the sight.</p>
<p>Its great size;—for it must have been from two to three miles in
circumference, and several hundred feet in height;—its slow motion, as
its base rose and sank in the water, and its high points nodded against
the clouds; the dashing of the waves upon it, which, breaking high with
foam, lined its base with a white crust; and the thundering sound of
the cracking of the mass, and the breaking and tumbling down of huge
pieces; together with its nearness and approach, which added a slight
element of fear,—all combined to give to it the character of true
sublimity. The main body of the mass was, as I have said, of an indigo
color, its base crusted with frozen foam; and as it grew thin and
transparent toward the edges and top, its color shaded off from a deep
blue to the whiteness of snow.</p>
<p>It seemed to be drifting slowly toward the north, so that we kept away
and avoided it. It was in sight all the afternoon; and when we got to
leeward of it, the wind died away, so that we lay-to quite near it for
a greater part of the night. Unfortunately, there was no moon, but it
was a clear night, and we could plainly mark the long, regular heaving
of the stupendous mass, as its edges moved slowly against the stars.
Several times in our watch loud cracks were heard, which sounded as
though they must have run through the whole length of the iceberg, and
several pieces fell down with a thundering crash, plunging heavily into
the sea. Toward morning, a strong breeze sprang up, and we filled
away, and left it astern, and at daylight it was out of sight. The
next day, which was</p>
<p>Sunday, July 3d, the breeze continued strong, the air exceedingly
chilly, and the thermometer low. In the course of the day we saw
several icebergs, of different sizes, but none so near as the one which
we saw the day before. Some of them, as well as we could judge, at the
distance at which we were, must have been as large as that, if not
larger. At noon we were in latitude 55° 12' south, and supposed
longitude 89° 5' west. Toward night the wind hauled to the southward,
and headed us off our course a little, and blew a tremendous gale; but
this we did not mind, as there was no rain nor snow, and we were
already under close sail.</p>
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