Chapter III: Part 3

Our progress for this twenty-four hours was not such as would delight the heart of a steam-yachtsman, for our difference of latitude was precisely nothing, and we made twenty-five miles of westing, which would indicate a current. The heat, of course, is great, and also the oppressiveness, everything being indescribably sticky and soft. The temperature of the sea has risen to correspond with that of the air, both standing at about eighty-four degrees; severe rain-squalls with little or no wind necessitate oil-skins on deck, for if your clothes get wet they will be hours drying in this weather; indeed, they will not dry at all, unless you put them on, when the heat of the body evaporates the moisture. As we have been several days now in very hot weather, we have had plenty of opportunity of comparing the cabins of a wooden and an iron ship in the tropics. As might have been expected, that of the “Higgins” is cooler than that of the iron “Mandalore”; but the difference is surprisingly little, not more than two or three degrees. The principal disparity we notice at night, as the “Mandalore’s” top-sides used to retain the heat of the sun for so long a period that it was frequently two o’clock in the morning before the temperature fell perceptibly. The thermometer now in our room stands at about 85° day and night as against 87° and 88° in the other ship.

Yesterday we caught a dolphin. It was a true dolphin, _delphinus delphis_, a mammal, the bottle-nose of sailors; seafaring people giving the name to a small beautifully-colored fish, _coryphœna hippuris_, which isn’t a dolphin at all.

Scores of the big, graceful creatures had been disporting themselves around the ship for several hours, as many as a dozen sometimes simultaneously breaking the water in a space which apparently could have been covered with a table-cloth. By and by they aroused the blood-loving propensities of the mate, who forthwith rigged his harpoon and stationed himself on the bowsprit-shrouds to watch for his prey. Presently a dolphin shot under the martingale-boom, when zip, the heavy iron flew through the air and passed completely through the unhappy creature, whose blood instantly transformed the lovely blue of the sea to a rich crimson. Here Mr. Goggins showed indications of insanity and bawled for the watch, who came running up on the forecastle-head with beaming faces. A dozen hands seized the harpoon-line, and a few hearty pulls landed the dolphin alongside the starboard anchor amid the wildest acclamations from the men. As he was to furnish fresh food for them for several days, however, their joy was natural, and he was dragged down on the main deck, cleaned, and skinned, which latter process was accomplished by slitting the hide into longitudinal sections, and then, starting each strip, three hands would take a strong hold and with a hard wrench the strip or ribbon would be ripped off with a noise like the tearing of heavy silk; one of the men, the facetious Charley Neilsen, suggesting the propriety of starting a chanty. After this had been accomplished, the carcass was suspended from the mainstay, bearing a singular resemblance to a hind-quarter of beef.

This morning we had dolphin liver for breakfast, which could scarcely have been detected from calf’s liver, and this, with some new-laid eggs and salt mackerel, afforded us much the same breakfast which we would have had ashore. “And the flesh you won’t know from beef; eh, cap’n?” said Mr. Goggins. But we hardly believed this and our distrust was justified when a strange dish was placed before the skipper at dinner. “What on earth is that?” I asked.

“Oh, this is a dolphin stew,” quoth Captain Scruggs, with much satisfaction, “and that’s just pork fat on top to flavor it.”

Whatever it was, the thing was in a deep yellow dish and looked like a wretched meat pie, the slabs of pork taking the place of crust. But yet stranger things were to be disclosed; for when the captain inserted a spoon and sculled around in the recesses of the cavernous redoubt, he brought to light and placed upon our plates irregular lumps of what seemed to be coke, while some of the fragments were of that dead black that pitch assumes, smooth in places, and in others sharp and ragged. I can assure the reader that a dolphin ragout is a strange thing.

It will no doubt surprise some people to know that the largest steamship line in the world is the Hamburg-American Company. That is, its vessels, which number one hundred and twenty-four, aggregate the greatest number of tons. The new freight steamers “Pennsylvania” and “Pretoria” of this line are mammoth vessels, and two more of the same class are now building by the Vulcan Works at Stettin. Their gross tonnage is about twelve thousand five hundred, with a displacement of twenty-three thousand tons, and a carrying capacity of twenty thousand tons. It is marvellous that a vessel should be able to carry, safely, twenty-twenty-thirds of her own weight. The new White Star freighter “Cymric” slightly exceeds these vessels in carrying capacity, and it requires six hundred and twenty-five carloads of freight to fill her enormous hull.

Below will be found a list of the five largest steamship lines, with the aggregate tonnage of each.

Tons

Hamburg American 341,000
British India 295,000
North German Lloyd 266,000
Peninsular and Oriental 251,000
Messageries Maritimes 279,000

The Cunard Line is simply swallowed up in these figures, and even the White Star Line, with all its freighters, falls below them; while the Japanese Nippon Yusen Kabushiki, with one hundred and sixty-two thousand tons, exceeds the Cunard, which the average citizen would perhaps place first on the list. Latitude 5° 16′ north; longitude, 30° 30′ west.

+June 1+

Three weeks at sea this day, and we are involved in the vortex, so to speak, of the Doldrums, with all which the name implies: intense heat, sultry, humid atmosphere, a baking sun which glares down between heavy showers and an almost total absence of wind. We were congratulating ourselves last night, for at 8.30 we took a northeasterly wind, which sent us along at seven knots through a sea spangled with phosphoric jewels and leaving a wake of silvery light astern, like the trail of a meteor.

“About, about, in reel and route,
The death-fires danced at night.”

But on issuing from the companion-way this morning, lo! a great calm was lying upon the waters; while the sun, like a globe of incandescent gold, sent down terrible rays of heat, trebly intensified by the brassy glare from the ocean. Perspiration dripped from the faces of the weather-hardened seamen upon the least exertion, the pigs breathed in short gasps and the poultry stalked about the deck with open bills.

“Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
’Twas sad as sad could be,
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea.

“All in a hot and copper sky
The bloody sun at noon
Right up above the masts did stand,
No bigger than the moon.”

A typical day of the low latitudes this. To me there is ever something wonderfully impressive in an absolute calm, when no breath of wind tarnishes the surface, and the only evidence that the ship is not resting upon a plane of glass is to be found in an occasional slow, deep surge, hardly ever absent when in the profound depths of the ocean.

All around the northern and eastern horizon hung superb, dense masses of violet cloud, descending at intervals in steaming showers, while broad on the port bow lay becalmed a large square rigger, hull down, but lifting at times on the swell till we could see her courses hanging in the buntlines in easy, graceful curves. Nearer and nearer, by imperceptible degrees, she approached, till at eleven o’clock she lay not more than three miles distant,--a magnificent four-masted bark, bearing the stamp of the Clyde upon her powerful iron hull, and presenting, with her double top-gallant-yards and splendid sheer, a perfect illustration of the modern sailing ship, of the largest and finest class. How beautiful and stately and proud she looked as she floated along, apparently conscious that she was homeward bound, and fully aware that she was one of the “swift shuttles of an empire’s loom” which Kipling mentions in those fine verses “The Coastwise Lights of England!”

“I’ll bet there’s nothin’ ter eat aboard there but rice, hard bread, and water,” said a croaking voice at my elbow, and the greasy countenance of the grizzly old mate was thrust suddenly into the foreground, totally destroying the beauty of the scene. Mr. Goggins (always Mr.) never loses a chance to blackguard his native country, which shows better than anything else what sort of creature he is. We made our number to the ship, to which she replied with her own name, but which we unfortunately could not make out, though, owing to the position of our flags, she may have been able to do so.

It is pleasant to study a great vessel like this, and to wonder how old she is and what great gales she must have witnessed in her career, walking up and down the world; now perhaps carrying five thousand tons of grain from California to the starving multitudes in India; now beating her way round tempestuous Agulhas, full to the hatches with tea and silk; now struggling against the thunderous southwesterly monsoon in the Bay of Bengal, homeward bound from Calcutta with twenty thousand bales of flossy jute in her great body. God speed the gallant ship! Latitude, 4° 24′ north; longitude, 29° 35′ west.

+June 2+

This afternoon was a perfect scorcher, even worse than yesterday, and the sun glittered down from a sky absolutely cloudless. Half a dozen albacores gambolled lazily around the ship all day, sometimes casting themselves several feet out of the water and then falling back with such a splitting crack that it was marvellous how their skins withstood it; and as these fish usually weigh about two hundred pounds and are some five or six feet in length, they made quite a fascinating display.

Last night we had what will probably be our last look at the pole-star for a couple of months. The sky was very clear then in the north, showing Polaris just above the horizon; theoretically, the altitude of this star is the approximate latitude in, and it ought to be visible at, the equator; but owing to vapors, etc., the polar star is generally not visible south of 5° north.

My wife is remarkably well in all this heat, a fact well illustrated by her hearty appetite at meals, considering that what we eat for dinner is usually supposed to be the accompaniments of cold weather. Our noon repast to-day, as an example, comprised a liberal portion of dense, steaming pea soup, hot Boston baked beans, and brown bread, followed, topped off with, oh, heavens! smoking plum pudding and Edam cheese in lumps as large as walnuts! Most people would consider this a throttling diet on the equator, and so it is, more or less; but our appetites are so fine that just now we don’t mind such a little inconvenience as Boston beans bubbling in pork fat.

At supper the heat was worse than ever and we were hurrying to get on deck, when my wife called attention to the strange, yellow tinge of a cloud-bank right ahead, which we could see through the cabin door.

“Oh, it’s nothing at all,” said the skipper; but, as if to nail his words, there came a blast of cold wind, which heeled the ship over to the scuppers and sent the captain and mate flying on deck. We followed instantly, and beheld a thrilling sight. Ahead, from southwest to east, the sky was covered with thick, windy-looking, saffron clouds, rushing rapidly toward us; while the sea, as black as beneath a summer thunder-squall, was whipped into angry, spitting white-caps, through which we were just beginning to force our way. In the northwest, over against this gloomy scene of dun vapor and dark, foam-flecked water, gleamed the sun, just setting in golden splendor, encircled with wonderful clouds of the most delicate blues and grays.

Meanwhile, the ship was in the wildest uproar which we had seen yet. The newly washed clothes had been hung in lines across the poop, and they were thrashing about like tattered flags; while ever and anon detached clothespins whistled by, necessitating very lively dodging. On the main-deck sixteen sailors were doing absolutely nothing but casting off the wrong braces; while ropes were flying, sails were slatting and booming, the bosuns were jumping about sulphurous with profanity, and Mr. Goggins in five minutes had so far lost command of himself as to lean helplessly against a capstan, quite speechless. Captain Scruggs stood at the weather poop-ladder shouting commands, to which no one paid any attention, such as, “Brace up those head-yards there; what’s the matter with you, Mr. What’s-your-name? Come out o’ that trance and git a watch-tackle on the foresheet. Hurry up that handy-billy now; or maybe you want me to show you what a handy-billy is.” (This with blighting sarcasm.) “Bosun, get that jib-topsail in!” The trumpeting of a rogue elephant couldn’t have been worse than the roar in which these orders were given, and the relief was infinite when objects began to straighten themselves out and the skipper went below. At seven o’clock we were doing eight knots, steering southwest by the wind. “The southeast Trades,” said the captain, positively; “they always come in a squall like that.” But, so far from this being the truth, the wind had let go entirely at eleven, and we were once more lying idly on a motionless sea. Latitude, 3° 50′ north; longitude, 29° 3′ west.

+June 3+

Even Captain Scruggs’s proverbial good luck seems to have vanished, for we have not made more than fifty miles per diem for several days, usually drifting about all over the ocean without steerage-way, until a squall comes along every two hours or so and sends us ahead four or five miles. The skipper lately has kept his temper well for so intolerant a man, but it is now oozing rapidly away, and he rolls out a reverberating oath at the men every few minutes, at whom he rages for apparently nothing. He seems to think that the most laborious tasks ought to be accomplished instantaneously, and he stuns Jimmie Rumps now and then with something like, “I’ll learn yer to obey with the end of a rope, for yer can’t pull any more than somebody’s d---- cow”; and constantly asks him, “Ain’t yer got a mouth on yer to answer with?”

I had a talk with Coleman the other day. This man is the graven image of the conventional Mephistopheles, and arrived, together with Olsen, at New York, on the American ship “S. P. Hitchcock” a fortnight before we sailed, ninety-two days from Honolulu. Coleman couldn’t say enough in favor of Captain Gates (indeed, every one speaks well of him), adding, “She’s a bloody sight different from this packet.” In saying which he alluded to Captain Scruggs’s abusive manner when talking to the men, which is entirely unnecessary and doesn’t do any good. Sailors, of course, can’t bear this when they are doing their best, and will make it just as hard as they can for a captain in return. In the face of several recent outrageous pieces of cruelty on our ships, I do not think that our skipper will personally lay hands on the men. Still, you cannot tell to what length he will go when we have been together three or four months.

The mate approached us last evening and gave it as his opinion that we’d never see the big steel Bath ship “Dirigo” again. “Why not?” said I; “she had not been more than one hundred and sixty days at sea when we sailed.”

“I know; that’s all right,” he answered; “but she was spoken off the Horn by the Briddish ship ‘Howth,’ that arrived a month before we left. Oh, you’ll never see _her_ again.” That’s the way with this individual,--he always thinks that something is going to happen. Then he suddenly asked,--

“Do you know wot Dirigo means?”

I told him that I did know what it meant,--“I direct.”

“Naw,” he replied; “hit’s the motto of the State of Maine, and means ‘go ahead’”; and when I tried to tell him that that was a very free translation of it, he said, “I don’t care for no translation; in the Greek language it means ‘go ahead.’” Such incontrovertible evidence was, of course, indisputable.

Mr. Rarx, the second mate, is of an altogether different type from Mr. Goggins. He has more natural intelligence, is very neat and clean, and is, besides, a far better seaman, and handles the men in such a way as to get twice as much work accomplished in a watch as the mate. But I am inclined to think that he has a very bad temper, from the motion he made with a fid the other day at two of the sailors who had made a mistake with a splice; and when he told me about an easy voyage which he had just made in the “William H. Smith,” and added, “I didn’t have to speak cross to the men once from Singapore to New York,” he looked at me very hard, and it seemed as though he were “sounding” me, to see whether I would believe improbable yarns. Still, I may be doing him injustice.

Perhaps the most agreeable man in the ship is David MacFoy, and we talked together for half an hour yesterday at about six o’clock. “This is a tedious place, mister,” said he; “we were three weeks here in the Doldrums a couple of months ago in the ‘P. N. Blanchard,’ from Manila to Boston. We’ll be awhile here now if signs count; and what’s that we’ve got ahead of us?--the Horn in mid-winter! Oh dear, dear! The last time I went round to the westward was in the ‘Tam o’ Shanter,’ a couple of years ago now, and we were forty-nine days off Cape Horn, and that much snow that in half an hour the lee decks would be full o’ drift. But d’ye know, I’d rather double the Horn to the west’ard than run the eastin’ down goin’ out to China and Australia. If yer do get heavier sou’west gales there, you’re hove to comfortable-like; but runnin’ to the east’ard, it’s a terrible thing to have them greyhounds a-chasin’ yer. On the last passage out to Wellington two hands were washed overboard out o’ the waist, another was washed away from the wheel off the poop, and a fourth poor fellow fell from the upper mizzen-top-sail-yard, and only lived ten minutes. Oh! that other’s a crool cape, sir. No, I’m not married; there’s too many grog-shops around. Now, look: when I landed in Boston a few weeks ago from the ‘Blanchard’ I had a hundred and seventy-six dollars comin’ to me. That was on a Friday. The next Monday I landed in New York with fifty cents, and signed here next day; but that was pretty quick work.”

This, and much more, did the big, handsome Scot reveal to me, in the pleasant accents of his native land, and with that knack of story-telling which so many ship-masters imagine that they possess, to the chagrin and distraction of their friends. I expect many more agreeable half-hours with this interesting fellow, for he instils much individuality into his tales. Nor will I ever forget him as he leaned against the pin-rail in the dusk this evening, his clean checked jumper lying open across his brown chest, as round as a barrel, and his head shaded by a wide-brimmed felt hat. He is an ideal bosun.

Being now in one of the great ocean cross-roads, we are constantly sighting vessels, both steamers and wind-jammers, bound north and south, the steamers being those on the voyage to and from the river Plate and Brazil to the United States and Europe. Yesterday we sighted five vessels, but none near enough to speak. Latitude, 3° 40′ north; longitude, 27° 50′ west.

+June 4+

Our calm hot weather continues with no indications of a break, and the sun is continuously obscured by heavy, cumulus clouds, though the heat is scarcely so overpowering as it was a day or two ago. But the humidity is suffocating, and as we have no sun, rugs, towels, and everything else feel almost wet to the touch. Last evening we had a sharp squall at 6.30, for which we lowered the sky-sails and luffed smartly at the same time. Very heavy rain fell too, making the fourteenth hard shower of the day. In the middle watch last night, the mate said that the heaviest rain fell which he had ever seen, together with a single dazzling lightning-flash and a simultaneous crash of thunder.

In our lives we have witnessed many scenes of great tumult, but never have I seen any to compare with that on board this ship this afternoon at four o’clock. Captain Scruggs had been growling and yapping around the main-deck all day, cursing everything, and particularly the light air which came fanning along, whenever it fanned at all, straight out of the south. Thus far we had not once tacked ship, though several times the wind had shifted so as to bring it on the other side. We were crawling along then this afternoon toward the east when eight bells went and both watches came on deck; while in another minute, without previous warning, the skipper yapped out, “All hands ’bout ship.” Paint-brushes and serving-mallets were dropped and tar-pots stowed away, while every one hastened to obey the summons.

Now, there is always more or less confusion the first time that a square-rigger tacks or wears on a voyage, though if everybody keeps his head there ought not to be so very much; and if our skipper had only let Mr. Goggins attend to the small details there wouldn’t have been a tenth of the disorder here. From the moment that the helm was put down, however, until we filled away on the other leg the ship was like a mad-house at recess. I don’t believe that there ever was heard on a vessel’s deck such yelling, or howling, which is a more comprehensive word. Nearly every order given by either mate the captain at once countermanded, sometimes without knowing it, often on purpose. The main-deck was full of capstan-bars, lead blocks and braces, which had been cast off when the order came to ’bout ship; and over and among these encumbrances eighteen men wrangled, stamped, and swore to an accompaniment of chattering blocks and thrashing canvas, as the ship came up to the wind, the mates cuffing and thumping the awkward ones with unflagging diligence, Mr. Goggins lumbering heavily aft to administer a painful booting to that hapless creature, Neils Brün, who has been in almost continuous trouble since the mate nearly pulled his ear off, a fortnight ago.

And where was the master of the ship all this time? Behold him at the break of the poop raging like the heathen, while at times he shook both fists together above his head and swore like a pirate, as his voice went booming and crashing above the noise of battle. But the full glory of the scene was reached when, a few moments after he had roared out “Maintop-sail, haul!” the main-brace jammed in the brace-block and wouldn’t render. His passion was almost fearful as he called upon the blank-blank-blankety who fouled the brace to show himself; while he jumped off the poop and raged away, tearing the braces apart as though he were wringing some one’s neck. Even the second mate lost his head once as the old man shouted to his bosun, “I told yer to let go that t’gallant-brace, didn’t I? Do yer want me to show yer how it’s done? I will; but I’ll wipe the deck with yer first. Where are yer steerin’ the ship to, yer at the wheel? Maybe yer’d like to have her aback?”

Now, if we had never been to sea before, we might have supposed that this was the necessary and proper manner of putting a ship about; but as we had seen the “Mandalore” under similar conditions several times, where there was almost perfect order during such evolutions, this scene was positively astounding, and disgusted us with Captain Scruggs. He is manifestly a fine seaman (American ship-masters are invariably that), but he loses command of himself and every one else as soon as there is anything to be done.

Although the American sailing ships have decreased in numbers amazingly in the last twenty-five years, there being in 1871 twenty-four hundred and sixty-six square-rigged vessels under the flag, as against four hundred and fifty-six at the present time, there seems to be good reason to think that an increase in this branch of ship-building is about to commence. Arthur Sewall, the great Bath ship-owner, has a large three-thousand-ton vessel completed and the keel of another one laid down, both of steel, while it is not improbable that he will build a fleet of such sailing ships. Think of our immense trade to the East fifty years since, and then ponder on the fact that not long ago the only vessel which entered the port of Calcutta flying the American flag for a period of four years was a British-built steam-yacht! That sailing vessels in general are not passing away as rapidly as people suppose, however, was shown by a circumstance that occurred about six months ago, when the freight-steamer “Massachusetts” arrived one day at New York from London and reported that in twelve hours she passed fifty-four sailing vessels of various rigs, all close-hauled on the starboard tack! Her approximate position then was latitude 48°, longitude 27°.

For several days the men have been setting up the rigging fore and aft, and they are now finishing the mizzen-top-gallant, royal and sky-sail backstays. It was a tedious job, but intensely interesting to watch, and I had never seen it done before on a square-rigger, as the other ship’s rigging was set up with turnbuckles. Latitude, 3° 22′ north; longitude, 27° 50′ west.

+June 5+

We think that we have taken the southeast Trades, though the wind as yet is nothing to the eastward of south. Last evening the dense rain-clouds and vapory masses of the Doldrums gave way to a clear sky dotted with trade clouds, and a lovely night followed, the moon in the first quarter being visible for the first time in many days. We had also a magnificent view of the southern heavens, with the golden Cross now well up, wheeling slowly through the sky, the finest constellation in the south. Immediately beneath, though a little to the left of, the Cross a strange thing is to be observed in the shape of what seems to be a large pear-shaped blot in the surrounding stars, bearing a close resemblance to a dark cloud, about the same size as the Cross itself. Within this space, which sailors call the Black Cloud, not a single star can be observed with the naked eye, though the sky round about the Cross in every other direction is thick with stars of the third and fourth magnitude.

At eight o’clock this evening we tacked ship for the third or fourth time to-day, and by reason of so much practice this herculean task was accomplished with a little less noise than before. Still, the disturbance was very great, with a prodigious amount of shouting and bad language from the skipper, which once more rose to a climax when one of the fore buntlines caught on something, just after he had sung out “Let go and haul.” Captain Scruggs, who was standing at the extreme forward end of the cabin-house, here executed a few fantastic steps to relieve his mind, and being clearly outlined in the moonlight, he made a very idiotic appearance. The manœuvre of tacking on this occasion, by the way, was a very impressive one, the white moon-beams transforming the dull gray canvas into cloths of satiny sheen as the great yards revolved to maintop-sail haul.

It must be said that the captain was justified to-day in kicking at the weather. The breeze was of the very faintest sort, and as often as we tacked ship the wind actually seemed to jump around and head us off, so that, after we were once more braced up on the port tack this evening and the wind shifted back and into the south, heading us off to nearly west, we really began to pity the skipper.

The phosphoric display here is the most beautiful which we have ever seen. Our wake every night is a swirling, gyrating, writhing path of liquid fire, in which glitter thousands of apparently incandescent globes as large as billiard-balls, with now and then a suggestion of fiery serpents twisting and wriggling through the glowing mass.

“Beyond the shadow of the ship
I watched the water-snakes;
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

“Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire;
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.”

How singularly devoid some men are of decent feelings! I talked last evening at the pumps with Murphy (he whose nose was pulled) and Rumps. The latter was boasting as to how long he could stay drunk without seeing startling visions, and rejoiced in saying that he had been in the lock-up of more than one city in the United States. Murphy, however, bowled him completely over by remarking quite calmly, “I been in the jail of every large seaport in the world.”

Though the temperature is just as high, 84° at noon on deck, the humidity has almost disappeared and the weather seems clear and settled. Latitude, 2° 49′ north; longitude, 27° west.

+June 6+

Indications seem to point with certainty to our having taken the southeast Trades, for a strong breeze sprang up at six this morning, descending upon us in a squall. We trembled lest it should prove naught but a puff; but we had the satisfaction of seeing it steadily increase, so that four hours later we had logged thirty-four miles, close-hauled, laying our course, the wind being strong and true at southeast. It might not be thought amiss if I state here what the origin of the trade-winds is. They are due to the inrush of cold air from the poles towards the equator to take the place of the warm current which rises from the latter. Owing to the easterly rotation of the earth on its own axis the air from the north becomes a northeast wind, and that from the south a southeast wind. The hot air flows to the poles as an upper current, and, having been cooled there, it descends to the surface of the earth to form the westerly or anti-trade-winds.

At 8.30 this morning a vessel was sighted to windward, bound north, which soon resolved itself into a tramp steamer. Here was an excellent chance to be reported; so telling the helmsman to hold her up as much as possible, the captain hauled out the flags DRHF, bent them on to the signal-halliards, and when he thought that the steamer had opened out our monkey-gaff, he told the mate to hoist away; which, being a very simple operation, he accomplished without accident; and in a few seconds the flags which spelled our name were fluttering merrily away a hundred feet above the deck. Anxiously we waited, but no answering pennant showed from the steamer, and we were about to blast her skipper with deep-sea anathemas, when she was observed to alter her course at right angles and come bearing down upon us, pushing a big snow-bank of foam ahead of her bluff bows. On she came, as if to lay us aboard, until she was within half a mile, when she shifted her helm again, describing a deep circle, while at the same instant the familiar little red-and-white-striped pennant flew up to her triatic stay, meaning “I understand you”; down came our flags on the run and “Report me all well” was hoisted instead, or rather it wasn’t hoisted until after the skipper had discovered that the miserable Goggins had run up “Steer after me” by mistake, which necessitated some lightning changes, as the stranger was moving rapidly away. Again the gay little triangle fluttered from the latter, while we ran the stars and stripes to the gaff and dipped three times, the other reciprocating with the scarlet ensign of Great Britain. The steamer then kept away, and in half an hour was a blot in the northeast; from her course the skipper thinks that she was from Pernambuco bound to the Cape de Verde. Now, here is a man who deserves to be publicly commended, and I wish that we had caught the steamer’s name, that it might appear in these pages. How many steamer captains are there who will alter the course for the purpose of speaking a mere wind-jammer? This incident seems to refute the assertion which is often made about the careless and what-are-you-to-me-spirit of British ship-masters, for no one could be more civil or polite than the captain of this tramp; rivalling in this respect the Germans, who are said to be the most painstaking of all the nationalities in the reporting of vessels.

I nearly forgot an agreeable break in the monotony of yesterday. We sighted a brig in the forenoon ahead and to windward; and though she had a lot of fore and aft canvas set, which ought to have held her up well, we rapidly ate up towards her, so that at four o’clock she was ahead and a little to leeward. We gradually crawled up on her then, and in another fifteen minutes had her abeam, so close that the features of her helmsman were clearly visible. Then I thought of our megaphone, presented to us just before we sailed, and here was a grand opportunity of putting it to practical use. So I brought it up on deck and the following conversation ensued:

“Hello! what brig is that?”

“The ‘Venturer,’ of Nova Scotia, from Philadelphia for----” Here followed a terrific aggregation of syllables which we couldn’t catch.

“When did you sail?”

“May 7, from Delaware Breakwater. What ship is that?”

“The ‘Hosea Higgins,’ from New York for San Francisco. Please report us all well.” A flourish of the arm from a man on her poop answered our request, which ended the interview. The megaphone worked beautifully, though they are of no use in windy weather. Of course, the mate, never having seen one, felt it his duty to jeer at it, which he did by saying, “That thing, whatever yer call it, ’s no good; I could hear better’n you without it.”

Reference to a copy of the _Maritime Register_ on board showed that the “Venturer” was of one hundred and ninety-three tons, hailed from Weymouth, Nova Scotia, and was bound to Margem do Torquary, Brazil; small wonder that we couldn’t understand it before. It reminds me of an Italian bark which sailed from New York a short time ago for Alexandretta, the “Nostra Signora del Sacro Cuoro di Jesu.”

The “Venturer” was what is usually known as a tidy little vessel, and she made a really fine picture as she surged buoyantly along over the watery hillocks. Accurately, she was a brigantine, and we got several very fair photographs of her, though the light was bad. Altogether, we sight about a dozen vessels a day now, which shows how densely populated the Atlantic is near the equator.

A circumstance quite surprising is the frequency with which the mates leave the poop when on watch; indeed, a good deal more than half of their time is spent on the main-deck; whereas on ships of foreign nations it is the general rule that the officer of the watch shall never leave the poop unless he has some excellent reason; common sense shows the desirability of always keeping an officer where he will have full command of the ship.

Well, we’re doing grandly now, and at noon were only ninety-five miles from the equator, and should cross it between one and two o’clock to-morrow morning. Latitude, 1° 35′ north; longitude, 27° 52′ west.

+June 7+

South latitude! Our expectations were fulfilled, for we entered the Southern Hemisphere in the morning watch, crossing the great circle which circumscribes the earth at fifteen minutes past four. Thus we have entered upon the second stage of our voyage; and while the first quarter was certainly not everything which could be desired, we reached the line in very good time, twenty-seven days from New York. If we had had even a little better luck in the Doldrums, four days could have been stricken from the twenty-seven; this is a far better passage, though, than we made in the “Mandalore,” when we had been forty-nine days at sea before we finally cut the equator. Perhaps the most comforting part is the fact that the skipper seems to have exhausted his supply of _aguardiente_, for he has been very solemn and strictly sober for three or four days. Heaven grant that he has no more grog!

This weather is so magnificent now that the memory of our late smothering calms, during which we were eight days in making four degrees of southing, has entirely passed away, for we are humming through the water at eight knots, close-hauled, with streaming scuppers, while the superb southeast trade-wind sings a blithesome tune in the rigging. It is the grandest wind that blows; so cool and steady, and the ocean so sparkles under its influence, with a snow-white crest topping each sea, reflecting the splendid blue of the heavens in its azure depths, that existence becomes an unbounded delight. I think, too, that the finest cloud effects which we saw on our first voyage were in the southeast Trades. True to precedence, yesterday afternoon at four o’clock the northeastern sky was obscured by a huge dark cloud of the color of indigo, and rendered doubly so by the sun shining upon it; this cloud extended almost to the sea-rim, black and frowning, while immediately beneath it, on the horizon, appeared some faraway masses of cumulus cloud of a most beautiful cream color, enchanting the mind with their loveliness and resembling great yellow icebergs.

As we were contemplating this spectacle, MacFoy sung out something which I thought was “Vessel on the lee.” The mate then went aloft for a better view, and when he had come down I asked him if he could see the vessel, to which he replied, “St. Paul’s Rocks.” This excited us at once, and I went up to the cross-jack-yard, from which elevation I plainly saw against a dark cloud what appeared to be twin light-houses, like Thatcher’s Island lights at Cape Ann, Massachusetts. Although fifteen miles distant at the time, and the weather was slightly hazy, these two rocky columns rising from a depth of two thousand fathoms, the only land within hundreds of miles, produced an effect wonderfully majestic and solemn. The exact position of the rocks is 0° 55′ 30′′ north and 29° 22′ west, and they are five in number, though only two are of considerable altitude, the loftiest being one hundred feet in height. They are separated from each other only by narrow chasms, so that until you approach very close the appearance is that of a single island. The whole space occupied by St. Paul’s Rocks does not exceed five hundred yards in length and three hundred in breadth; and while Darwin concluded that they were not of volcanic origin, more modern scientists--Renard, Geikie, and Wadsworth--have decided that they are eruptive. These rocks are totally devoid of vegetation, but are the resort of incredible numbers of sea-birds, both gannets and noddies, as well as a certain spider, while the water in the vicinity swarms with fish, seven varieties having been taken by the “Challenger” during a very short stay.

Captain (afterward Admiral) Fitzroy, when in command of the “Beagle” during her celebrated five years’ voyage, visited these rocks, and wrote an admirable description thereof. Among his observations is the following: “The multitude of birds covering the rocks was astonishing, and they suffered themselves to be kicked about and killed with sticks; at the same time those on the wing even darkened the sky. Numbers of fine fish, like the grouper of Bermuda, bit eagerly at baited hooks; but as soon as a fish was caught a rush of voracious sharks was made at him, and notwithstanding blows of oars and boat-hooks, the ravenous monsters could not be deterred from seizing and taking away more than half the fish that were hooked.”

Had it been earlier in the day we would have stood in toward the rocks to behold the surf which rages incessantly against the weather-side. But it was too late; and even as we looked the lofty obelisks began to fade away, and at 6.15 we had what I hope will not be our last look at the lonely St. Paul’s Rocks. The Atlantic Ocean near the equator, between the meridians of 18° and 23°, is subject to frequent and violent earthquakes, which have the effect upon a vessel like that of being dragged over a reef, or that of a heavy chain-cable being suddenly run out through the hawse-pipes.

The most singular fact in relation to the component parts of sea-water is the variation in the proportion of salt; for every ton of Atlantic water evaporated there is yielded eighty-one pounds of salt; ditto Pacific, seventy-nine pounds; ditto Arctic, eighty-five; while the Dead Sea heads the list with one hundred and eighty-seven pounds, though I have never seen such statistics in regard to our Great Salt Lake.

Although the temperature in the shade to-day was very agreeable, the sun’s heat was terrific. It is customary to refer to a “baking sun,” but I should call that of to-day a boiling sun, on account of the moisture; and it is strange that on a day like this the sun’s rays will not dry out a wet towel, though exposed to them for several hours during the hottest part of the day, so great is the humidity. Latitude, 0° 49′ south; longitude, 29° 53′ west.

+June 8+

These are fine Trades, though the squalls are severe and sudden. A few words here, in passing, as to squalls. What landsmen often call a squall sailors call a puff, such as are experienced along our coasts with a northwest wind, lasting a few seconds. A sailor’s squall often lasts for thirty minutes and is accompanied with heavy rain, while it can be observed approaching in the form of a nimbus cloud touching the ocean a long while before it reaches the ship.

In this twenty-four hours we did two hundred and thirteen knots, an average of more than nine within the hour, while in many of the squalls we must have been going nearly twelve. How many yachts are there which can equal this on a bowline? Ship-masters, however, cannot realize how fast a yacht can sail with a light wind; they all seem to think that a yacht sails best in a gale. Captain Kingdon often used to say to us in the Southern Ocean, when we were doing twelve knots before a fresh gale, “Ah! this is where I’d like to see an able yacht! Sixteen knots, eh?” And he couldn’t understand that under those conditions a smart yacht could sail but little, if any, faster than we were doing. But what is even more difficult for them to grasp is the speed of a racing yacht in what they call a light air. Sometimes when we were fanning along at, say, five knots, I used to worry Captain Kingdon by telling him that a seventy-footer would run him out of sight in that breeze in a few hours. He refused to believe that any yacht could make nearly ten knots while the “Mandalore” was doing perhaps five.

This morning we had a heavy sunrise squall, for which we had to let go the royal halliards, the sky-sails having been stowed during the night. But, quick as the men were, the wind was swifter yet; for before the clew-lines and buntlines could be manned a great rent was made in the mizzen-royal, and in a few minutes the second mate reported that the upper foretop-sail was in the same condition; both were, therefore, unbent and lowered as such, while a brand new mizzen-royal was sent up, the first of the strong new sails which will be bent before we reach the bad weather. It was the hardest squall which we have had yet, and the wind and rain made a thunderous noise while it lasted; yet, high above the din, could be heard the powerful voice of Mr. Rarx, shouting to the men to bear a hand with the mizzen-royal clew-lines. Though there were plenty of squalls throughout the night, the sky was perfectly clear between them, and thickly studded with fine constellations, while the moon silvered the great wool-packs as they sailed serenely up out of the southeast. Quite a sea had made by eight bells this morning, in which we wallowed a good deal, but lost none of our way. Sea-birds have been very scarce lately, though a single large frigate-bird has sailed all day on motionless wing in wide circles overhead.

I wonder how many perfectly well and healthy deep-water captains there are? This sounds absurd at first, as it is the general opinion that sea-captains are always thoroughly hearty and strong. Of course some of them are, for long-voyage skippers not infrequently live to a very advanced age, proving that they must have always been sound men; yet in most instances it will be found that they suffer from some malady brought about in their profession. Perhaps the most common is liver trouble in conjunction with dyspepsia in some form. Captain Kingdon’s death, it will be remembered, was caused by a cancer or abscess in the liver. Such complaints are due to an inactive life for months at a stretch, for captains, on account of their dignity, cannot take part in the working of a ship or in pumping her out, so that walking the poop must constitute all their exercise. Rheumatism, produced by bad food and exposure, divides the honors with the liver, while from heart-disease but comparatively few long-voyage captains are free. It generally develops in those of a nervous temperament, induced by worry in gales and dread of trouble with the crew if they are unruly, besides a score of reasons only understood by the initiated. Even in my very limited experience, I have known three master-mariners afflicted with cardiac disease. One, a splendid fellow, Coalfleet, of Hantsport, Nova Scotia, died in his bunk in the North Atlantic; another, in the Ward Line service, was grievously stricken in Cuba, and had to retire from the sea; while the third suffered from dreadful intermittent attacks of angina, but I have lost track of him for several years. Latitude, 3° 50′ south; longitude, 31° 35′ west.

+June 9+

Late yesterday afternoon Captain Scruggs came up and said that Fernando de Noronha was visible to leeward from aloft, and that if we looked hard enough we might be able to see it from the deck. So we gazed long and earnestly over to the westward, and there, sure enough, arose a soft, rose-colored cloud through the mist; and in another half-hour we could perceive the various islands which constitute this group, together with the lofty pyramidal rock one thousand feet above the sea, which crowns the loftiest of the islands, giving it a peculiar individuality, so that it is not possible to mistake this cluster for any other known group. We were near enough to count four distinct islands, the largest of them being twenty miles in circumference, and we could just make out the tremendous walls of sheer, unbroken rock falling into the sea; but beyond this it was not given us to penetrate even with the strongest glasses on board. Would that we had been fifteen miles nearer, that we might have compared this group with Trinidad, which rears its desolate summit two thousand and twenty feet above the sea, fifteen degrees farther south. The spectacle of the surf breaking on Fernando de Noronha must be even grander than on St. Paul’s Rocks; for, lying in the very heart of the strong southeast trade-wind, the full force of the mighty South Atlantic surge dashes ceaselessly against its basaltic walls.

Last evening was very fine indeed, the wind having let go sufficiently to make the deck agreeable; and as the moon shone with great power, it was a night of remarkable beauty even for the Tropics, although some ragged scud which blew swiftly across the moon presaged plenty of wind for to-day. The indications were fulfilled, for it has been very squally since early this morning; all the royals came in at eleven o’clock, and we have been plunging along in a broken sea, through savage blasts which roar in the rigging with an angry voice. The most unfortunate thing is that the wind is heading us by hauling to the southward, and for the greater part of the past twenty-four hours we have been steering well to the westward of southwest; so that, in spite of our weatherly position on the line, we are going to have trouble in getting past that portion of Brazil lying to the southward of San Roque. Indeed, at noon we were only seventy-five miles from the land, a little south of the Great Bugbear, as Maury pertinently styled the famous cape.

For dinner to-day we had canned lobster, which came from the far-distant Cape of Good Hope; at least, the skipper called them lobsters, but the mate disgustedly muttered “Crawfish.” This sort of thing the skipper cannot stand, as he considers it a crime for Mr. Goggins to know more than he does, and actually resents any information which the mate volunteers at table. He generally doesn’t care to exhibit his knowledge in the skipper’s presence, and it is hard to see why to-day he forgot himself in so unusual a manner. Yesterday, for instance, I remarked what a particularly hot day it was for the Trades, and the skipper promptly denied it on principle until furnished with ocular proof by thermometers, while the mate discreetly observed, “I feel like gettin’ out me warmer coat.”

Mr. Goggins is occupied during the first watch every other night in teaching two of the men where the different ropes lead to on deck. One of these hapless individuals is Louis Eckers, who doesn’t understand much English, and the other is John Pettersen, an immensely tall, lean Dane, who lives in such terror of the mate that he utterly loses his head at every command. He is, besides, pitifully anxious to please, and his awkwardness is really remarkable. If there happens to be a rope yarn in his path he is sure to trip on it, and when he starts to move in obedience to an order, he first stares all about as though just recovering consciousness, and then suddenly perceiving that the men are some distance off by this time, he laboriously gets his lank frame under way after heavily tripping over some object, and, with elbows squared and head bent low, he charges like a bull across the deck. Neither of these men has ever been aboard of a square-rigger before, and what little sense they have seems to vanish when anything is to be done. I’ll never forget John’s appearance last night as he clattered heavily forward toward the forecastle when the mate said ferociously, “Show me the spanker-sheet.” Poor fellow! so rattled he knew not whither he was going.

Speaking of ropes a moment ago reminds me of the largest one ever made in England. It was of white manila, weighed five tons, and was twenty-two inches in girth with a breaking strain of eighteen tons. This huge rope was made a short time ago for the express purpose of towing a floating dry-dock from the Tyne to Havana, which itself weighed six thousand tons. Seventy men were required to haul in the hawser and coil it away. Latitude 6° 18′ south; longitude, 33° 58′ west.

+June 10+