Chapter III

Ready for sea--Detained--Sail from England--Well provided--Bay of
Biscay--Compasses--Local attraction--Eight Stones--Madeira
--Deception--Squall--Teneriffe--Santa Cruz--Quarantine--Squalls
--Cape Verde Islands--Port Praya--Produce--Archilla--Bad season
--St. Paul Rocks--Cross Equator--Fernando de Noronha--Bahia
--Slavery--Abrolhos--Cape Frio.

In November, the Beagle was ready for sea, but a succession of hard gales from the westward prevented her leaving England until the end of December. Twice she sailed, and went a few leagues; yet was obliged to return in order to avoid the risk of being damaged, or losing a boat, at the very beginning of her voyage. At last the westerly gales seemed exhausted, a dead calm succeeded, and, warned by the appearances so peculiar to easterly winds, we unmoored at daylight on the 27th, and, as soon as the tide would allow, for there was still no breeze, we warped from our sheltered and picturesque retreat in Barn-pool, under that beautiful place Mount Edgecumbe.

Vessels in the offing, and distant land ‘looming’ much; a few mottled, hard-edged clouds appearing in the east; streaks (mare’s tails) across the sky, spreading from the same quarter; a high barometer (30.3); and the smoke from chimneys rising high into the air, and then going westward; were the signs which assured us of a favourable wind. A light ‘cat’s paw’ rippled the water, we made all sail, the breeze increased, and at noon our little vessel was outside the Breakwater, with a fresh easterly wind.

Of the bitter feelings experienced by most of us when every sail was trimmed, and the land sinking fast from our view, I will say nothing: yet there were enlivening hopes, and all were glad to be freed from the tiresome uncertainty of the past month, all were anxious to enter upon a voyage which, though likely to be very long, promised much that would interest, and excite, and perhaps reward.

To the executive officers of a ship it is always a most satisfactory feeling, independent of other thoughts, to be fairly at sea, and away from the scenes of irregularity which so often take place in ports. Those scenes, however, are now much less offensive, and the sailor is far less heedless than he was formerly, if we may take Fielding’s description as authority. That humorous sensible author says, in one of the most entertaining accounts of a voyage ever written, “To say the truth, from what I observed in the behaviour of the sailors in this voyage, and comparing it with what I have formerly seen of them, at sea, and on shore, I am convinced that on land there is nothing more idle and dissolute; but, in their own element, there are no persons, near the level of their degree, who live in the constant practice of half so many good qualities.”

Never, I believe, did a vessel leave England better provided, or fitted for the service she was destined to perform, and for the health and comfort of her crew, than the Beagle. If we did want any thing which could have been carried, it was our own fault; for all that was asked for, from the Dock-yard, Victualling Department, Navy Board, or Admiralty, was granted.

To mention the names of those to whom my shipmates and myself felt most grateful for attention to requests, and for a kind foresight of our future wants, may be unnecessary, some may think improper; yet, at the risk of offending, I must try to express the gratitude that I, and those who sailed with me in the Beagle, owe to Sir James Graham, Sir Thomas Hardy, Captain Beaufort, Commissioner (now Admiral) Ross, Sir Robert Seppings, Sir James Gordon, the late Sir Manley Dixon, and Sir William Burnett: less I cannot say, more might be displeasing.

The wind increased, and drove us onwards into the Atlantic as fast as a heavily laden small vessel, with her ‘scuppers’ in the water, could be forced. We steered as southerly a course as was safe, in hopes of keeping the east wind longer, and the result proved that we were right; for although the Beagle had a fair wind all the way to the Canary Islands, vessels which sailed from England only one day after her, and steered more westerly, lost the east wind very soon, and were retarded by another succession of strong and contrary gales, similar to those which had detained us a whole month.

Individual misconduct, arising out of harbour irregularities, obliged me to have recourse to harsh measures before we had been two days at sea; but every naval officer knows the absolute necessity of a certain degree of what inexperienced persons might think unnecessary coercion, when a ship is recently commissioned. Hating, abhorring corporal punishment, I am nevertheless fully aware that there are too many coarse natures which cannot be restrained without it, (to the degree required on board a ship,) not to have a thorough conviction that it could only be dispensed with, by sacrificing a great deal of discipline and consequent efficiency. “Certainty of punishment, without severity,” was a maxim of the humane and wise Beccaria; which, with our own adage about a timely ‘stitch,’ is extremely applicable to the conduct of affairs on board a ship, where so much often depends upon immediate decision, upon instant and implicit obedience.

We crossed the Bay of Biscay without a gale; though the heavy rolling of a vessel so deep in the water, running before a strong wind, was almost as disagreeable as the effects of one would have been. After witnessing high seas and storms in various parts of the world, I can call to mind only two or three that exceeded what I have myself experienced, or what I have heard described, as having been sometimes encountered in this famed bay.

Why should the sea be higher, or more dangerous, in the bay of Biscay, than it is in the middle of the Atlantic, or elsewhere?--Is it really so?--are questions often asked.

I believe that there is a shorter, higher, and consequently worse sea, in and near the Bay of Biscay, than is often found in other places, and attribute it to the effect of immense Atlantic waves, rolling into a deep bight, or bay, where they close upon each other and receive vibratory undulations from each shore; augmented perhaps by the peculiar formation of the bottom of that bay, the variation in depth, and the effects of currents, which, when running over uneven ground, or against the wind, alone cause a heavy swell; a striking exemplification of which may be seen on the bank of Lagullas, near the Cape of Good Hope.

Though so deep in the water, our little vessel’s movements were uncommonly easy, and all our best timekeepers being hung in particularly good jimbals, I had no fear of their rates being altered, except by the effect of a change of temperature. This was a point about which I was especially anxious, as so much would depend upon the going of our chronometers, and I did not then think that the motions of a ship affected those instruments so little: as I have since proved to be the case by trying them frequently in boats, or small craft of only a few tons burthen. In her previous voyage the Beagle was as easy a sea-boat as could be desired; but, having raised her upper deck, altered her stowage and trim, loaded her more heavily, and sheathed her with two-inch plank, preparatory to this second expedition, I had abundant cause to feel anxious until the practical effects of such material changes were ascertained.

A little alteration was required near the compasses, for owing to some ill-placed iron-work they did not quite agree; but, after this change was made, we were gratified by finding four first-rate compasses, three fixed for steering, and one for bearings, agree precisely. Another source of satisfaction, connected with the compasses, was the knowledge that they were not affected, unless in a very trifling degree, by local attraction: for while lying in Barn-pool we swung the vessel in order to ascertain its quantity, but were agreeably surprised to find that none could be detected amounting even to one degree. This was attributed to her having only brass guns; and to some very large iron davits for the quarter boats, which were placed rather closely abaft and above the compasses, and perhaps counteracted the effect of iron in the hold, which was so much more distant.

On the 3d of January we were occupied in looking for the “Eight Stones;” but nothing was seen to indicate either rocks, or shoals, or even shallow water. The sun was shining brightly on a deep blue sea, of one uniform colour: no soundings could be obtained; and had there been a shoal or rock within seven miles of us at any hour of that day, it could not have been passed unnoticed. So many vessels have searched, in vain, for this alleged group of rocks, that their existence can now hardly be thought possible.

At day-light, on the 4th, the rocky high islet of Porto Santo was seen looming through haze and clouds which hung around it. We steered between Porto Santo and the Desertas, intending to anchor in Funchal Roads; but the wind drew round to south-west, with such strong squalls, that I abandoned my intention, and at once steered for Teneriffe. The roadstead I have just mentioned is well known to be unsafe in south-west gales; and there can be no doubt that the most prudent plan is to keep at sea while they last: but I have been told by old traders to Madeira, that ships sometimes remain at anchor, about half a mile from the Loo rock, and ride out south-west gales without difficulty: the ‘under-tow’ being so considerable that their cables are little strained.

In fine weather, and it is fine at Madeira nine months in the year, the view of this steep and lofty island,[1] covered with bright verdure, and enlivened by numerous scattered houses, as white as snow, is very striking to a stranger who arrives from the low, and tame-looking shores of the south coast of England.

Seamen are often deceived, when about to anchor in Funchal Roads, in consequence of the sudden transition which they have probably made from a low shelving coast to an abrupt and high mountain-side: for the bottom of the anchorage slopes away as suddenly as the heights overlooking it, and the anchor must indeed be let go upon the side of a mountain. Hence ships seldom go close enough, unless guided by a person who knows the place; and many a chain cable ran out to the clinch, when chains were first used, owing to an incorrect estimate of the vessel’s distance from the shore, and not taking time to sound accurately.

Closing the land quickly after passing some time at sea--approaching high cliffs, or hilly shores, after being, for a time, accustomed to low coasts--or nearing a flat shore, after the eye has been used to precipices and mountains--almost always is a cause of error in estimating distance, however experienced a seaman may be.

_Angustias_

_I.G.S._ _S. Bull._
_R.N. Hamond._

PANORAMIC VIEW OF MADEIRA.

Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]

While passing at a few leagues from the land, a violent squall came from the west, which was near doing damage: after one puff there was a short calm, with heavy rain, and then a sudden blast struck the ship so violently that we were obliged to take in all sail and run before it during the few minutes it lasted. This squall was one of very many which have reminded me of the old doggrel lines--

When rain comes before the wind,
Halyards, sheets, and braces mind:
But if wind comes before rain,
Set and trim your sails again.

At daylight the next morning we saw the Salvages, and at sunset thought we could distinguish the Peak of Teneriffe.

Early on the 6th we saw part of the island, and soon afterwards the upper clouds dispersed, and we enjoyed a magnificent view of the monarch of the Atlantic: the snow-covered peak glittering in the rays of the morning sun. Yet as our ideas are very dependent upon comparison, I suppose that persons who have seen the Himalaya Mountains, or the Andes, in all their grandeur, would not dwell much upon the view of Teneriffe, had it not become classical by its historical associations, and by the descriptions of Humboldt and many distinguished travellers.

Although some geographers adopted the Peak of Teneriffe as a zero point from which to reckon longitude, I am free to say, that a less satisfactory one could hardly have been selected; because there are no means of connecting the position of the peak with that of the observer, whether on the shore of the island, or on board a ship in the offing, except by a trigonometrical process, always open to errors. Indeed the summit of the peak is not visible from the east, on account of intervening land, until the observer is at some distance from the shore. Hence all meridian distances measured from Teneriffe must depend upon the degree of accuracy with which the position of the actual starting-point, with respect to the Peak, was determined.

How many errors have been caused in ascertaining the longitudes of distant places, by a mistake in the longitude of the position from which a ship, or an observer, actually departed! How many discrepancies between the measurements of different nations would vanish, if the precise points from which each observer set out were known; and if the positions of those points, with respect to one another, were accurately verified!

About noon we approached the sun-burned, uninviting town of Santa Cruz. Lying upon a level, arid space, at the foot of hills, that rise slowly to a considerable height, so as to shut out the more elevated part of the island; hardly a tree to be seen, and no appearance of cultivation; guarded by a rocky shore, on which there is always a disagreeable--often a dangerous surf; it offers indeed little to tempt delay. But notwithstanding this unpromising exterior, and a port so exposed that Spanish ships of war were ordered by their Government to moor there with four anchors, there is much to be found in the higher and interior parts of Teneriffe which amply repays the labour of ascending to and exploring those regions. In one of the churches in Santa Cruz is still hanging the remains of a flag, taken from the English, or left behind, when Nelson lost his arm.

Our anchor had just touched the ground, when a boat from the Health Office approached nearly alongside, conveying the British vice-consul and some quarantine officers, who told us, after hearing whence we came, that it would be impossible to grant permission for any person to land; and that until we should have performed a strict quarantine of twelve days’ duration, no personal communication could be expected. This regulation was adopted on account of the reports which had reached them respecting the cholera in England.

Observations on shore being indispensable for our purpose, and finding, after some discussion, that there was no chance of attaining our object in a manner that would at all compensate for the delay caused by anchoring and performing quarantine, we weighed without further loss of time, and made sail for the Cape Verd Islands.

This was a great disappointment to Mr. Darwin, who had cherished a hope of visiting the Peak. To see it--to anchor and be on the point of landing, yet be obliged to turn away without the slightest prospect of beholding Teneriffe again--was indeed to him a real calamity.

During the whole of the 7th, the Peak was visible; but on the following day no land was in sight, and we made rapid progress. A very long swell from the north-west, which we felt until the 10th, was probably caused by a gale in the northern Atlantic; and, judging from its size and velocity, I should think that it could not have subsided before traversing many, perhaps ten more, degrees of latitude; which would be to about 10° north. It is interesting to notice how far the undulatory movement of water reaches: in this case it extended through at least ten degrees of latitude where the wind was from different quarters, and probably much farther.

An unusual appearance was observed on the 12th. A cloud like a dense fog-bank approached; and as it drew near, the lower and darker part became arched, and rose rapidly, while under it was a white glare, which looked very suspicious. Sail was immediately reduced--we expected a violent squall; but the cloud dispersed suddenly, and only a common fresh breeze came from the foreboding quarter. Neither the sympiesometer nor the barometer had altered at all; but the cloud was so threatening that I put no trust in their indications, not being then so firm a believer in their prophetic movements as I am at present. Nevertheless, I would by no means advocate the neglect of any precaution suggested by appearances of the weather, although no change should be foretold by the glasses. A mistake may be made by the observer, or a variation in the height of the column may have passed unheeded; while it is seldom that a practised eye can be deceived by the visible signs of an approaching squall or gale of wind.

Undoubtedly the worst wind, next to a hurricane, which a vessel can encounter, is a violent ‘white squall,’ so called because it is accompanied by no cloud or peculiar appearance in the sky, and because of its tearing up the surface of the sea, and sweeping it along so as to make a wide sheet of foam. By squalls of this description, frequent in the West-Indies, and occasionally felt in other parts of the world, no notice will be given much above the horizon; but by consulting a good barometer or sympiesometer, and frequently watching the surface of the sea itself, even a white squall may be guarded against in sufficient time.

Squalls accompanied by clouds are so common, and at sea every one is so much accustomed to look out for them, that I may cause a smile by these notices; yet as there is often much doubt in a young officer’s mind, whether an approaching cloud will be accompanied by wind or rain, or by both, and many persons are unable to distinguish, by the mere appearance of a cloud, what is likely to come with or from it, I will venture to mention that when they look hard, or hard-edged (like Indian ink rubbed upon an oily plate), they indicate wind, and perhaps rain; but before the rain falls, those clouds will assume a softer appearance. When they are undefined, and look soft, rain will follow, but probably not much wind.

Dark clouds, hard mixed with soft, and inky fragments in rapid motion beneath them, accompanied perhaps by lightning and distant thunder, are the fore-runners of a heavy squall. Soft, shapeless clouds, in which it is impossible to point out a definite edge, usually bring rain, but not wind: and, generally speaking, the more distinctly defined the edges of clouds are, the more wind they foretell. A little attention to these simple observations, so familiar to persons who have been some time at sea, may save young officers unnecessary anxiety in one case, and prompt them to shorten sail at a proper time in the other.[2]

In again trying for soundings with three hundred fathoms of line, near the Island of St. Jago, we became fully convinced of the utility of a reel, which Captain Beaufort had advised me to procure, and of which Captain Vidal had spoken to him in very favourable terms. Two men were able to take in the deep sea line, by this machine, without interfering with any part of the deck, except the place near the stern, where the reel was firmly secured. Throughout our voyage this simple contrivance answered its object extremely well, and saved the crew a great deal of harassing work.

15th. In consequence of a thick haze, very prevalent about the Cape Verd Islands, land was not distinctly seen until we were within three miles of it, and we then found ourselves rather too far westward, owing to a current setting towards the west, at the rate of two knots an hour; this was close to the north point of St. Jago. Next day we anchored in Port Praya.

The wind being always from the north or east during this season of the year (from December to June), a ship can moor as close to the weather shore as may be convenient; but during July, August, September and October, no vessel should deem the bay secure, or anchor near the shore, because southerly gales sometimes blow with much strength, and the rollers, or heavy swell sent in by them, are dangerous to ships which have bad ground tackle, or are lying near the land. As I have myself experienced the force of these gales in the vicinity of the Cape Verd Islands, and witnessed the sea raised by them, I can confidently warn those who are inclined to be incredulous about a gale of wind being found in fifteen degrees of north latitude, beyond the limits of the hurricane regions.

Strong gusts come over the land into the bay during the fine season, when the breeze is fresh; therefore a ship entering, with intent to anchor, ought to have a reef in her topsails, and be ready to clew up the top-gallant sails at a moment’s warning.

The vicinity of Port Praya offers little that is agreeable to the eye of an ordinary visitor, though interesting enough to a geologist. A desolate and hilly country, sun-burned and stony, with but few trees even in the vallies, and those only the withering, spectre-like trunks of old palms, surrounds the harbour. The distant and higher parts of the island, however, present a striking outline; and in the interior there is more to be seen, as the following extract from a few notes made by Mr. Rowlett will show.

“We procured some indifferent horses and rode to Ribeira Grande, the remains of an old town, about nine miles west of Port Praya, which was formerly the residence of the Portuguese governor of the Cape Verd Islands; but in consequence of the anchorage becoming blocked up,[3] the seat of government was shifted to the small straggling town, or rather village, which stands upon a height overlooking the port of Praya. We passed through the fertile and beautiful vallies of Achao and San Martin, and enjoyed drinking some of the finest water we had ever tasted. On a commanding height stood the ruins of a very large fortress, and within the limits of the old town were remains of a cathedral, a bishop’s palace, and a college; besides a modern church, in tolerable repair, an inhabited convent, and a hospital supported by charity. In the convent we saw some good paintings from scriptural subjects; and there were some curious old tombs, on one of which, said to be that of a bishop, was the date 1571, and on another we thought the almost obliterated figures were 1497.

“No person who has only visited the port of Praya can form the slightest idea of the beauty of the interior country; it exceeded any thing I had seen, either in Brazil or in the West Indies.

“Fruit was abundant; there were oranges, grapes, plantains, bananas, sour-sops, mammee apples, pomegranates, guavas, quinces, sapodillas, papaw apples, pines, citrons, medlars, figs, and occasionally apples.”

Notwithstanding its unfavourable exterior, its small and dirty town, and its black or brown population, I am inclined to think Port Praya of more consequence to shipping than is usually supposed. Water may be procured by rafting the casks, placing a pump in the well, and hiring a few of the natives to do the more laborious work of filling and rolling. The local authorities are attentive and obliging: it is indeed their interest to be so, because much of their trade, and even many of the necessaries of life, depend upon the visits of shipping. Fowls, turkeys, and pigs, are very plentiful, but it is better to procure them by barter than with money. Clothes, new or old, are eagerly sought for, and their full value may be obtained in the produce of the island.

The population is said to be about thirty thousand, a few of whom are Portuguese by birth, and many are descended from Portuguese parents, but the greater number are negroes.

I could hear no decided account of any earthquake having happened; but being so near Fogo, now an active volcano, one may suppose that St. Jago is not exempted from an occasional shock.

The exports of the Cape Verd Islands are small quantities of sugar, cotton, and coffee. Hides of small bullocks, sheep and goat-skins, are likewise exported; and horses, mules, and asses, of an inferior description, are sometimes sent to the West-Indies. The Archilla weed, so much used in dyeing, is however the staple commodity, and, under proper management, might be made highly profitable. At the time of our visit, the yearly revenue arising out of the government monopoly of this article amounted to fifty thousand dollars; and in some years it has been as much as three hundred thousand dollars. This weed grows like a kind of moss upon the cliff’s, and is collected by men who climb up or are let down by ropes, like the samphire gatherers.

The natural dye is blue, approaching to purple; but by using metallic and other solutions, it may be turned to purple, crimson, or scarlet.

Money having been slowly remitted of late years from the mother-country, a great part of the archilla has been applied to the payment of the authorities, the clergy, and the troops (such as they are). A story is told of the last governor having caused a sham mutiny, in order that he might have a good reason for selling the archilla gathered that year, and with the produce paying the troops--and himself. He was brought out with a rope round his neck into the street, and there obliged to promise that he would sell the archilla, then in the government store-house, to the best bidder.

A kind of castor-oil plant is found, from which a small quantity of oil is obtained, and a sort of soap. Yams are very scarce, being grown only at one part of the island. Mandioca is common, but it degenerates rapidly, and will not produce even a second crop. Vegetables of various kinds are abundant in their seasons.

From August to October is the rainy and sickly season. In September, a south-west gale is usually experienced; but from five to ten hours before its commencement, a dark bank of clouds is seen in the southern horizon, which is a sure forerunner of the gale. Should a vessel be at anchor in the port at such a time, she ought to weigh and put to sea, until the storm has ceased and the swell subsided. In the month of September preceding our visit, an American merchant-brig and a Portuguese slaver were at anchor in Port Praya. A bank of clouds was seen during the day in the S.W., and the American went to sea; but the slaver remained at anchor. A storm arose at night, drove the slave-vessel ashore, and dashed her to pieces in less than half an hour, yet did the American no damage whatever, and the next day she anchored again in the port.

In a valley near the town is a very remarkable tree, of the Baobab kind, supposed to be more than a thousand years old; but I am not aware of the grounds upon which this assertion is made. Wild guinea-fowls are found in flocks, and there are wild-cats in the unfrequented parts of the island; but if induced to take a gun in pursuit of the guinea-fowls, I would advise a stranger not to overheat himself, or sleep on shore at night; for fatal fevers have been contracted by Europeans, who were unguarded as to their health, while passing a few days in this hot climate, after being for some time accustomed to the cold weather of a high northern latitude.

Except during the rainy season, the wind is always north-easterly, and then the sky is clear and the sun very powerful; but a dry haze hangs over the island in a peculiar manner, and a quantity of fine dust, quite an impalpable powder, frequently settles on every exposed surface, even on the sails and rigging of a vessel, when passing near the islands.

On the 8th of February our instruments were re-embarked, and, after swinging the ship to ascertain the amount of local attraction, we weighed anchor and sailed. By the compass fixed upon a stanchion in front of the poop, not twenty minutes difference of bearing could be detected, in any position of the vessel: the object observed being the highest point of a sharp peak, distant eleven miles.

On the 10th we spoke the Lyra packet, going from England to Rio de Janeiro, and received a box from her, containing six of Massey’s sounding-leads, those excellent contrivances which we frequently found so useful. These machines, as formerly made, did not answer for a much greater depth than one hundred fathoms; because their hollow cylinder yielded to the pressure of the water: but Mr. Massey has since remedied that defect in their construction.

On the 13th a very confused swell seemed to presage a change of weather. Hitherto the wind had been steady from the north-east, and the sky clear; but on this day large soft clouds, light variable breezes, rain, and sometimes a short calm, showed us that we had passed the limits of the north-east trade wind. 14th. Similar weather, with a good deal of rain, but still breeze enough to keep us moving on our course.

On the 15th, the wind was steady from east south-east, and the sky free from heavy threatening clouds. We had then entered the south-east trade wind, without having had two hours calm.

St. Paul Rocks, or Peñedo de San Pedro, were seen on the horizon at sunset of the 15th. They appeared extremely small, being about eight miles distant; and had we not been looking out for them, I doubt whether they would have attracted attention. Excepting “Las Hormigas,” on the coast of Peru, I never saw such mere rocks at so great a distance from any land.

At daylight next morning, two boats were sent to land upon, and examine them; while the Beagle sailed round this “sunk mountain top,” sounding, and taking angles. Good observations were made during the day, as the sky was clear, and the water smooth.

When our party had effected a landing through the surf, and had a moment’s leisure to look about them, they were astonished at the multitudes of birds which covered the rocks, and absolutely darkened the sky. Mr. Darwin afterwards said, that till then he had never believed the stories of men knocking down birds with sticks; but there they might be kicked, before they would move out of the way.

The first impulse of our invaders of this bird-covered rock, was to lay about them like schoolboys; even the geological hammer at last became a missile. “Lend me the hammer?” asked one. “No, no,” replied the owner, “you’ll break the handle;” but hardly had he said so, when, overcome by the novelty of the scene, and the example of those around him, away went the hammer, with all the force of his own right-arm.

While our party were scrambling over the rock, a determined struggle was going on in the water, between the boats’ crews and sharks. Numbers of fine fish, like the groupars (or garoupas) of the Bermuda Islands, bit eagerly at baited hooks put overboard by the men; 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.

A. Earle. T. Landseer.

CROSSING THE LINE.

Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]

At short intervals the men beat the water with their oars all round the boats, in order to drive away the sharks; and for a few minutes afterwards the groupars swarmed about the baited hooks, and were caught as fast as the lines could be hauled up--then another rush of sharks drove them away--those just caught were snatched off the hooks; and again the men were obliged to beat the water. When the boats returned they were deeply laden with birds and fish, both welcome to those who had been living on salt provisions.

From the highest point of the rock,[4] no discoloured water, nor any breaking of the sea, could be discerned, apart from the place itself; and from the soundings taken in the boats, as well as on board the ship, I conclude that it is unconnected with any shoal, being merely the summit of a steep-sided mountain rising from the bottom of the ocean.

There was a slight current setting to the westward, not amounting to a mile an hour.

At sunset that day we were out of sight of St. Paul (or St. Peter), and soon after dark were hailed by the gruff voice of a pseudo-Neptune. A few credulous novices ran upon the forecastle to see Neptune and his car, and were received with the watery honours which it is customary to bestow, on such occasions.

Next morning we crossed the Equator, and the usual ceremonies were performed.

Deep was the bath, to wash away all ill;
Notched was the razor--of bitter taste the pill.
Most ruffianly the barber looked--his comb was trebly nailed--
And water, dashed from every side, the neophyte assailed.

The disagreeable practice alluded to has been permitted in most ships, because sanctioned by time; and though many condemn it as an absurd and dangerous piece of folly, it has also many advocates. Perhaps it is one of those amusements, of which the omission might be regretted. Its effects on the minds of those engaged in preparing for its mummeries, who enjoy it at the time, and talk of it long afterwards, cannot easily be judged of without being an eye-witness.

During the early ages of navigation, before the invention of the compass, somewhat similar, though really ceremonious rites were observed in Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian vessels, when they passed the more remarkable promontories then known. A modern voyager, Kotzebue, notices this subject in a manner which appears to me so sensible, that I shall quote his words without affecting to add another remark.

“On the 11th of October we crossed the Equator, at twenty-five degrees west longitude, reckoning from Greenwich. Having saluted the southern hemisphere by the firing of guns, our crew proceeded to enact the usual ceremonies. A sailor, who took pride in having frequently passed the line, directed the performance with much solemnity and decorum. He appeared as Neptune, attired in a manner that was meant to be terribly imposing, accompanied by his consort, seated on a gun-carriage instead of a shell, drawn by negroes, as substitutes for tritons. In the evening the sailors represented, amidst general applause, a comedy of their own composition.

“These sports, while they serve to keep up the spirits of the men, and make them forget the difficulties they have to go through, produce also the most beneficial influence upon their health; a cheerful man being much more capable of resisting a fit of sickness than a melancholy one. It is the duty of commanders to use every innocent means of maintaining this temper in their crews; for, in long voyages, when they are several months together wandering on an element not destined by nature for the residence of man, without enjoying even occasionally the recreations of the land, the mind naturally tends to melancholy, which of itself lays the foundation of many diseases, and sometimes even of insanity. Diversion is often the best medicine, and used as a preservative, seldom fails of its effect.”--(Kotzebue’s Voyage, 1823-26.)

Before sunset on the 19th we saw the island of Fernando Noronha, with its singular peak towering aloft, and at midnight anchored in the roadstead.

Next morning I landed with difficulty for observations, the surf being so high that any common boat would have been swamped. By taking great care, our broad and well-built whale-boats landed the instruments and a small party, and re-embarked them afterwards, without accident.

We landed in a small bay under the (so-called) citadel, but there is a safer and in every way preferable landing-place about a mile to the northward. My object being chiefly to take sights of the sun, for time, and compare the chronometers used on shore as soon as possible with those on board, I preferred landing as near as I could to the place where the lamented Captain Foster observed:--but it was difficult to ascertain the house in which his pendulum observations were made. Not even the governor could tell me, for he had arrived since Captain Foster’s departure; and most of the inhabitants of the island had changed their dwellings frequently, being all exiles from Brazil.

The governor was a major in the Brazilian service, born at Pernambuco, and under his command were two hundred black troops, and about eight hundred human beings, only thirty of whom were women, and a very few children.

We obtained some fire-wood from one of the islets northward of the principal island; but it was full of centipedes and other noxious insects, from which it was not easy to free it even by charring and washing. Water we did not try to get, because of the heavy surf, but there is no scarcity of it on the island. Neither live-stock nor vegetables could be procured from the apathetic inhabitants.

This place is rather picturesque; and the lofty barren peak, already mentioned, is conspicuous from every point of view. Near the summit is a station from which a look-out is kept, not only over all the island, but over many leagues of the surrounding sea; so that neither ship nor boat can approach or depart, during daylight, without being noticed.

No boats are allowed to be kept on the island, and no intercourse is held with shipping without permission and the strictest inspection.

We sailed from Fernando Noronha the same evening, passed round the north-east extremity of the island, and steered for Bahia de Todos Santos. Having remained only one day at anchor, in consequence of information that no better landing could be expected for many days; and wishing to ascertain the rates of the chronometers, as well as to procure a supply of water, I decided to go to Bahia, as the nearest port convenient for both purposes. From the 23d to the 27th we found a current setting us southward, between twenty and thirty miles each day. This was quite unexpected by me, for I thought that we should have been set westward. At daylight on the 28th we made the land about Bahia, and before noon were at anchor in the port.

As we sailed in rapidly from the monotonous sea, and passed close along the steep but luxuriantly wooded north shore, we were much struck by the pleasing view. After the light-house was passed, those by whom the scene was unexpected were agreeably surprised by a mass of wood, clinging to a steep bank, which rose abruptly from the dark-blue sea, showing every tint of green, enlivened by bright sunshine, and contrasted by deep shadow: and the general charm was heightened by turretted churches and convents, whose white walls appeared above the waving palm trees; by numerous shipping at anchor or under sail; by the delicate airy sails of innumerable canoes; and by the city itself, rising like an amphitheatre from the water-side to the crest of the heights.

We found ourselves in the middle of the rainy season, and although favoured by a fine day at arriving, cloudy weather and frequent rain succeeded it, and during the short stay we made, much embarrassed our observations.

Bahia has declined ever since its separation from Portugal: unsettled, weak governments, occupied too constantly by party strife to be able to attend to the real improvement of their country, have successively misruled it. Revolutions, and risings of the negro population, interrupting trade, have repeatedly harassed that rich and beautiful country, and are still impending.

Were property secure, and industry encouraged, the trade from Bahia might be very extensive, particularly in sugar and cotton: but who will embark much capital upon so insecure a foundation as is there offered?

The immense extent and increase of the slave population is an evil long foreseen and now severely felt. Humanely as the Brazilians in general treat their slaves, no one can suppose that any benevolence will eradicate feelings excited by the situation of those human beings. Hitherto the obstacles to combinations and general revolt among the negroes, have been ignorance, mutual distrust, and the fact of their being natives of various countries, speaking different languages, and in many cases hostile to each other, to a degree that hardly their hatred of white men can cause them to conquer, even for their immediate advantage.

The slave trade has already entailed some of its lamentable consequences upon the Brazilians, in demoralizing them by extreme indolence, and its sure accompaniment, gross sensuality; but there are in store afflictions hitherto unfelt, occasioned by the growing hordes of enemies who are yearly causing more perplexity and dread in the territories of Brazil.

Could the Brazilians see clearly their own position, unanimously condemn and prevent the selfish conduct of individuals, emancipate the slaves now in their country, and decidedly prevent the introduction of more, Brazil would commence a career of prosperity, and her population would increase in an unlimited degree. In that immense and most fertile country, distress cannot be caused by numerous inhabitants; food is abundant, and the slight clothing required in so warm a climate is easily procured.

The chief, if not the only cause of the slave trade in Brazil, is want of population--want of an industrious population, able as well as willing to clear away primeval forests, and render the soil fit for culture--able to work in the open fields under a hot sun, to cultivate the sugar cane, cotton plants, mandioca, and other productions of tropical climates.

While this extensive and most powerful cause exists, selfish, unprincipled owners of immense territories in Brazil, and elsewhere, will not refrain from importing hundreds, even thousands of unhappy wretches, who, once landed, become the helpless instruments of immense gain to their owners: neither can any reasonable number of shipping efficiently blockade the coasts of two great continents.

If I am right in these assertions, it appears that there is no method by which the slave trade can be totally suppressed, except by destroying the cause of so abominable a traffic: and that, to this end, a native population should be encouraged in hot climates, who, being gradually inured to work on their native soil, for remuneration from their employers, and a prospect of future comfort for themselves and their offspring, would totally supersede the demand for constrained labour. Of course, the only way by which such a result could be obtained--I should say, perhaps, the first step towards so satisfactory a result, would be, that the government of a slave-importing country should declare that trade piratical: and proclaim every human being free; bound to no man, free to do any thing not contrary to religion, or law, from the moment he or she embarked on board a vessel belonging to that country, or placed a foot upon its soil; which might then indeed be termed, in common with our happy land, a sacred soil. By such a plan as this, individuals would suffer for a time, but the mass of society would be gainers incalculably.

Well-known authors have already said so much of Bahia, its spacious harbour, and delightful environs, that it would be impertinent in the writer of a mere narrative to add his hasty remarks to the calmly considered information which their works contain. But I will venture to notice that however pleased a stranger to Bahia may be at the sensations conveyed through his eyes, previous to landing, he will be miserably disappointed when he finds himself in the dirty, narrow, crowded, and hot ‘lower town;’ and that the sooner he gets into a sedan[5] chair, and desires the almost naked bearers to make the best of their way to the ‘upper town,’ where he will enjoy fresh air, a pleasing view, and freedom from annoyances, the less his organs will be offended, and his temper tried.

A. Earle. T. A. Prior.

SAN SALVADOR, BAHIA.

Published by Henry Colburn, Great Marlborough Street, 1838.]

We sailed from Bahia on the 18th. The bank which projects from the light-house point had been minutely examined by us, during the Beagle’s stay in port; on one day, indeed, she went out and anchored at the outer end of the shoal, in order to determine its extent, and assist the boats in sounding; therefore I did not hesitate to stand across it; but there is not water enough over the shallower parts for any ship drawing more than fourteen feet, especially if there is a swell. The shoalest spot is near the outer end; ships of any size may pass between the inner extremity and the point of land adjacent to it.

There are rocks and dangerous shallows southward of the port, which it is extremely necessary to guard against in approaching it from sea, because the current generally sets towards the south, and ships have got ashore on those shoals in consequence. The land northward of Bahia should be made, and some white sandy patches, looking like linen hung out to dry, should be seen before a ship steers more southerly.

After losing sight of the land, our course was shaped to the south-east, towards the eastern limit of the great bank of soundings which extends so far to seaward of the Abrolhos islets. Having reached the parallel of the islands, and being to the eastward of the easternmost soundings laid down in any chart, without finding any ground with three hundred fathoms of line, I began to steer westward--sounding continually, and keeping a sharp look-out at the mast-head. At two in the afternoon of the 26th, we had no bottom, with three hundred fathoms of line; and at the next cast, about an hour afterwards, found only thirty fathoms, without there being the slightest change in the colour of the water, or in its temperature, or any other indication of so sudden a change in the depth. We hauled to the wind directly, worked to the eastward in order to ascertain the precise limit of the bank, and lost soundings as suddenly as we had previously struck them. A grapnel was then put overboard, with two hundred fathoms of line, and we again steered westward, till a heavy pull upon the line, and a sudden jerk, showed that we had hooked the bank.

The ship was hove-to, and the necessary observations made on the spot. The grapnel, when hauled up, was found to be straightened, a proof, in addition to that afforded by the lead, that the bottom was rocky. Our soundings at this time were thirty-eight fathoms, and thence to the Abrolhos islets we carried a line of soundings, no where exceeding that depth, but extremely irregular, between thirty-six and four fathoms.

As far as we had time to examine, the chart of these islands, by the Baron Roussin, appeared to be satisfactory; but the soundings are so very irregular in the vicinity of the Abrolhos, that little dependence could be placed on the lead. More than once we had four or five fathoms under one side of the vessel, and from fifteen to twenty under the other. These sudden and startling changes, called by the French, ‘Sauts de sonde,’ are very unpleasant and perplexing.

The tide, or rather current, which we found when lying at anchor near the islets, set continually to the southward, varying in strength from half a mile to a mile and a half an hour; but we had only three days’ experience.

I had imagined, from what I had heard, that the rock of which these islets were chiefly composed was coral; but was surprized to find only coralline growing upon gneiss or sandstone.

While sounding near the Abrolhos we made a great number of experiments with Massey’s lead, in order to verify its qualities; and found it agree remarkably well with the common lead, while in less than forty fathoms, but differ from it frequently when the depth of water exceeded seventy fathoms; and wholly fail when used in upwards of one hundred and twenty fathoms. The failure, in great depths, was in consequence of the small hollow cylinder, to which the vanes were attached, bursting, or rather, being compressed by the weight of water. Some more remarks upon this instrument will be found in the Appendix.

We anchored near the islets, at dusk, on the 28th, after being in frequent anxiety, owing to sudden changes in the depth of water; and next morning, moved to a better berth at the west side, very near them. They are rather low, but covered with grass, and there is a little scattered brushwood. The highest point rises to about a hundred feet above the sea. Their geological formation, Mr. Darwin told me, is of gneiss and sandstone, in horizontal strata. When our boats landed, immense flights of birds rose simultaneously, and darkened the air. It was the breeding and moulting season; nests full of eggs, or young unfledged birds, absolutely covered the ground, and in a very short time our boats were laden with their contents.

A large black bird, with a pouch like that of a pelican, but of a bright red colour, was very remarkable, as it hovered, or darted among the bright verdure, and at a distance looked handsome; but when seen close, it at once descended to the level of a carrion-eating cormorant or buzzard.

Turtle are to be found at times: we observed the shell and skeleton of an extremely large one lying on a sandy spot at the north side of the northern islet. Some very fine fish, of the cod kind, were caught; one was so large, that, until hauled on board, it was supposed to be a shark. The anchorage is good, and easy of access: all swell is stopped by the shallow places, and by the islets themselves. There is no fresh water.

If a general reader should honour these pages by his perusal, and find such details about wood, water, fish, birds, &c., at places about which few know, and still fewer care--extremely tiresome, he will of course pass them over; but, in my own exculpation, I must beg to be permitted to remind him that the Beagle was employed by Government, to obtain practical information likely to be useful to shipping; and that I might neglect my duty by omitting to mention such matters, when speaking of places which are seldom visited, and hitherto but slightly known.

By those employed in the coasting trade, the Abrolhos are said to be particularly subject to squalls. If this be true, what is the reason? Have the extensive shallows in their vicinity any connection with the fact? Thinking myself that they have, I would beg the reader to bear this idea in mind, when, at another part of this narrative, the squalls so frequent in the dangerous archipelago of the low islands are mentioned.[6]

March 30th. We sailed and sounded in various directions, but such irregular depths I never found elsewhere. Sudden jumps, from thirty to ten, sometimes even to four fathoms, in successive casts of the hand-lead, gave us frequent alarm; but by keeping a boat a-head, and two leads going briskly, we avoided danger, and giving up exploring, regained before dark the safe channel which runs north and south between the Abrolhos and the main land, and steered to pass near Cape San Tomè, or St. Thomas. Next day we were off that cape, but saw none of the breakers which have been so frequently reported to lie at a dangerous distance from the neighbouring shore; although we looked out for them, and steered so as to pass the places where I was informed they would be seen.

On the 3d of April, we passed Cape Frio. I wished to visit the cove in which the Lightning and Algerine lay, while recovering the treasure sunk in the unfortunate Thetis, but circumstances were unfavourable.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] About five thousand feet high.

[2] In the Appendix are a few remarks on clouds.

[3] Perhaps by an earthquake?

[4] Sixty-four feet above the sea.

[5] An arm-chair, with a high back, a foot-board, and curtains to draw round, hung to a pole which rests on the shoulders of two men.

[6] The Bermuda Islands (“still vexed Bermoothes”) may also be thought of, as being similarly circumstanced.