Chapter XIV: Voyage to California Via Cape Horn

Among our readers there may be some who are contemplating a trip to California, and may be hesitating between the two routes commonly traveled. For their sakes, I have violated the chronological order of my adventures, that I might introduce a description of the outward and return trip, in immediate juxtaposition for the greater convenience of comparison.

From the pier of Wall street, New York, on Friday, January 31st, seven passengers, myself amongst the number, embarked for San Francisco, on board the clipper ship Stag-Hound, under command of Capt. Josiah Richardson. The wind blowing from the north-east afforded us a favorable opportunity for standing out from land; of this, however, we did not avail ourselves until about 4 o’clock in the afternoon; for, although our vessel was towed out early in the morning, and every thing seemed to be in readiness for our final departure, yet, through some unavoidably delay, we were obliged to cast anchor off Staten Island, where it became necessary for us to remain until the time above mentioned. We then weighed anchor, set sail, and in a few minutes our noble ship was gliding over the blue waves with swan-like grace.

It was truly a magnificent sight, as we headed off so smoothly and so majestically from the shore, and made our way out farther and farther upon the dark blue deep; we spent the greater part of the evening promenading the quarter-deck, and admiring the enchanting scene. But our reverie and conversation were not altogether undisturbed by melancholy thought. We had just started upon a long, uncertain and monotonous voyage. Old associations had been broken up. We had bid adieu to our native homes, our nearest relations and dearest friends, probably for three or four years--possibly for ever. All before us then was an unknown world--an untrodden path, and phantom-faces of doubt and fear would loom up from the obscurity of the future.

The next morning I began to feel symptoms of that most intolerable of all sensations, seasickness. Of this malady I had some little experience once before, while on my way from Philadelphia to New York via Cape May; but I never entertained the least idea that it was half so depressing as I now found it. For three weeks and more I could scarcely eat a mouthful. It really seemed to me at times that eating was the most abominable occupation men could engage in; and when I looked upon dishes of which I had often freely partaken before coming on board the vessel, I either found it difficult to reconcile myself to the opinion that I was not dreaming, or came well nigh detesting myself for having ever been addicted to so gross a habit.

The monotony of our daily life was without variety for the next four or five days. The wind had been somewhat favorable, and we were making good progress until the evening of the fifth day, when suddenly the wind changed and we shortly after found ourselves in the midst of as nice a hurricane as ever sunk a ship or leveled a forest. The wind howled and shrieked in such a manner that I could compare it with nothing earthly; the sea, too, had assumed, by this time, a most formidable appearance; the rain was falling in perfect torrents--the lightning flashed incessantly, and such deafening thunder-peals mortal man never heard before. It appeared as if the elements, for the last five days or so, had been nursing their wrath for this particular occasion, and were determined that we, poor devils of passengers, should be made thoroughly acquainted with the comforts of a crowded ship in a tornado at sea.

The poor affrighted passengers (myself among the rest) despaired of the ship long before the severest part of the tempest was felt, and prayers and promises were offered up without stint for our salvation, by many that never prayed before and I suppose have never done so since. When morning dawned it seemed as if the fury of the storm increased--sea and sky were apparently as one; every thing, and every body appeared helpless, hopeless, panic-stricken. Most of our canvas had been taken in or closely furled, yet the ship dashed along with the speed of a race-horse. Things that were not well secured rolled about in the greatest disorder and confusion. The heavy seas which she had already shipped, and the still heavier ones she was then shipping, increased, if possible, the consternation inspired by the awful scene. In fact, things began to wear such a threatening aspect, that a speedy change of some sort was looked forward to with the greatest anxiety, not only by the passengers, but by the captain and crew, when, to complete our terrors, topgallant-masts, royals, and main-top-mast, with their appendages, came down with a crash that was heard above the howling of the storm. By this time the day had been spent, and night considerably advanced,--with fear and trembling we retired to our state-rooms, doubting whether we should ever be permitted to see the light of another day. For myself, I suppose I was quite as indifferent about the matter as any one else; for, when a person gets to be as much under the influence of nausea as I was at the time, any change is desirable, even though it carry him to the bottom of the deep. The night passed, and we found that the storm was beginning to abate, so that, in about forty-eight hours thereafter, its violence had entirely ceased, and fine weather attended us across the equator.

The loss of our masts, in this severe gale, at once threw a damper on our high hopes of a quick passage; but, fortunately for us, we had extra masts on board; and, through the indefatigable exertions and perseverance of our vigilant captain, we succeeded in getting all the wreck cleared away and jury-masts rigged. The shattered timbers and torn sails opened an unusually large field of labor for our carpenter and sail-maker. We kept on our course, which had been very nearly south-east ever since we started, until we passed the Cape Verde Islands, about four degrees to the west, when we steered due south, and crossed the equator between twenty-nine and thirty degrees west longitude.

The next interesting event that happened to us occurred off the coast of Brazil, in latitude 22° 25´--longitude 38° 29´, Sunday, March 2d. It was about six o’clock in the morning, and I had just left my state-room and gone on deck to take a bath, when a sailor by my side, pointing over the starboard bow, cried out, “Boat ahoy! boat ahoy! with men in it.” In an instant, as if by electricity, the news was conveyed to every ear on board, and, at the same time, the starboard rail was lined fore and aft with anxious sailors and half-dressed passengers. As we drew near them, (they had been rowing towards us all the while as hard as they could pull,) they commenced waving their hands and handkerchiefs, beckoning to us and calling out in an unintelligible language, as if imploring us to receive them on board. At the time, the sea was running moderately high, and we were gliding along at the rate of five or six knots per hour, so that in a few minutes we had them directly astern of us; but we were not so destitute of humanity as to pass them by and leave them to certain death. Our sympathies were quickly and enthusiastically aroused in their behalf, and as soon as our captain could get his ship under proper command, he hove her to and waited for them to row along side. Pretty soon they came close under the lee of our vessel, and their weather-beaten features and nautical garb at once gave evidence that they were not unacquainted with the life of sea-faring men.

A rope was thrown to them and they were all able to pull themselves on board by it, except one, whom we afterwards ascertained to be their captain,--he, poor fellow, was so much exhausted that he could not help himself, and we were obliged to hoist him in. Their story was the next thing to be learned; for, as yet, not a word they said had been understood. This difficulty was removed, however, as soon as we got our men collected; for, among our polyglot assemblage of men, representing nearly forty different nations, we quickly found an interpreter in the person of an old Swede, whose translation of their story was, in substance, as follows:--They were Swedes and belonged to the Russian brig Sylphide, which had been to Rio and taken in a cargo of eighteen hundred and twenty-five bags of coffee, with which they had set sail for Helsingfors, Finland,--when five days out from Rio, a severe storm, or rather squall, came upon them, and so completely and suddenly wrecked their vessel, that they had barely time to escape in one of the little boats with their lives--not even having an opportunity to procure so much as a bottle of water or a mouthful of food. So precipitate and unexpected was the calamity which thus overtook them, that they had to quit their brig without any preparation whatever, and abandon their carpenter, who happened to be in his berth sick at the time, to a watery grave.

They had been out three days and nights in this condition, with nothing to eat or drink, save the legs of their captain’s boots, which they said they had been chewing to sustain life. Exposed as they were to the burning rays of a tropical sun, without any thing to eat or drink, it is not reasonable to suppose that they would have lived more than three days longer at farthest, if we had not picked them up, or if they had not been otherwise providentially relieved. We received the captain in our own cabin, and at our own table, and entertained him as hospitably and agreeably in every way as it was possible for us to do. His men went before the mast, and proved a very acceptable addition to our crew, especially in doubling Cape Horn, for they could endure the cold much better than our own seamen. That day, in commendation of the act we had performed in the morning, our captain,--who, by the by, was a very exemplary and devout scion of an orthodox Yankee house,--read, during divine service, the parable of the Good Samaritan.

About three o’clock in the afternoon of the same day, a little circumstance came under my observation, which, though it may seem quite a trivial affair in the eyes of many, may nevertheless serve to illustrate in some degree the barbarity of man and his utter indifference in regard to the lives of inferior animals. The subject of the incident was a small land bird, very much resembling our hedge sparrow, which was discovered resting upon one of the larboard main braces. A gust or blast of wind had probably driven it out to sea, and it could not find its way back to the shore. It was so weak that it could scarcely fly, and looked as if it was almost dead. On seeing it, I ran below and got a few crumbs of bread and strewed them along over the life-boat nearest to it. But just at that moment, the Swedish captain, who had now begun to resuscitate, came up on deck; and spying the distressed little wanderer, he walked up as boldly and deliberately to the rope upon which it was sitting, as if it had been some noxious intruder, and shook it violently. Thus frightened, the bird flew off some distance from the ship, but soon returned and alighted in the very same place; again the captain shook the rope as he had done at first, and again the bird did just as it had done before. This same thing was repeated for the third time, when the wearied little creature, apparently disgusted with the brutality of the man, who but a few hours before was himself in a forlorn and helpless condition, dropped down upon the water, and was seen no more.

Keeping along down the South American coast, we passed between Patagonia and the Falkland Islands; and on the morning of the 21st of March were within twenty miles of Staten Land. This was the first land we had seen since leaving home, and we feasted our eyes upon it, until our ship bore us so far distant that it had dwindled down to a mere speck. When we were near enough to Staten Land, I could see with the aid of the captain’s spy-glass nothing but rugged and sterile mountains, the highest peaks of which were covered with snow, and presented quite a picturesque appearance. No vegetation nor living thing of any kind could be discerned. But a young Bostonian, whom we afterwards saw in Valparaiso, told us he passed so near the shore of some of the land lying at the southern extremity of Patagonia, that he could see the natives, who, he said, were a gigantic people, about eight feet high! He also said they ran along on the shore abreast of his vessel, whooping and yelling at him like a set of ferocious savages. On Sunday following we saw Cape Horn, the most notorious of all places upon the high seas for rough weather and contrary winds.

Up to this time we had been congratulating ourselves upon the auspicious season in which we had happened to reach the Cape, and upon the quick run we were going to make around it. Delightful weather and favorable winds had cheered us since leaving the latitude of the La Plata river, and we were in high hopes that we had just hit upon the right time to sail safely round the dangerous Cape in one or two days, instead of being kept there six or eight weeks, as is sometimes the case. But we were doomed to sad disappointment. Towards night that terror of all navigators, a downright Cape Horn tempest, assailed us, and for seven successive days and nights kept us almost completely submerged. During the whole of this time, the wind, which was so intolerably cold and piercing that it seemed to be charged with isicles, blew right in our teeth, and brought hail, sleet, rain or snow with it every hour. Owing to this hard and continued blowing of the wind, the size and power of the waves became perfectly appalling; indeed they ran so heavy and so high that each one looked like a little ocean of itself, and frequently they would strike the ship with such tremendous force that she quivered and groaned as if she were going to pieces; in fact, I often expected to see her shivered into fragments, and could hardly believe otherwise than that we were all destined to become food for the fierce monsters of the deep. We succeeded, however, in getting fairly around the Cape, much to the gratification of all, and especially to the relief of our worn-out seamen, who had been up working with all their might, day and night, for a whole week.

While in the neighborhood of the Cape, we saw great numbers of the albatross, gull, petrel, and other birds; by means of a fish-hook tied to the end of a long line, and baited with a piece of fat bacon, which we let out some eight or ten rods from the stern of the vessel, we caught several of a species which the sailors called the Cape Hen. On measuring one of them from the tip of its right wing to the tip of its left, I found it to be seven feet across. The albatross is about twice as large as the Cape Hen. Here, too, while in this latitude, we had our fairest views of the great Southern Cross and the Magellan Clouds, constellations of as much notoriety in the southern hemisphere, as the Pleiades and Belt of Orion are in the northern.

It seems that the Atlantic and Pacific oceans are ever at war with each other off Cape Horn, where their waters are continually coming into mad collision, as if no friendship existed between them. But we will now bid adieu to this aquatic battle field, this bleak, dreary region of storms and hurricanes, and look forward to a more congenial clime.

Finding our water was now beginning to give out, and that we should have to procure a fresh supply before we could reach San Francisco, we bent our course towards Valparaiso, upon the coast of Chili, south of the city and harbor to which we were then bound; and as we passed along up the shore, we had a most magnificent view, not only of its own long range of barren hills, but also of the lofty and towering heights of the Andes at the distance of one hundred and forty-five miles in the interior. To add to the grandeur of this spectacle on land, another now presented itself on the ocean around us, in the form of great whales--the first we had seen. We saw many of these huge creatures that day and the next; one of them came within two or three rods of the stern of the ship, and spouted the water with a noise something like that of a high pressure Mississippi steamboat.

We had scarcely dropped our anchor in the harbor of Valparaiso before we were surrounded with little boats filled with natives and foreigners, who had come out, as they said, to talk with us and to see our ship. From these men we learned that four days previously a severe earthquake had been felt, and that all the houses in the city had been more or less injured--a part of the city completely destroyed, and some few persons killed. It was also reported by some of them, that it had laid a great portion of Santiago, the capital, in ruins; but, as yet, no definite news had been received from any of the inland cities or towns; and it was not positively ascertained what amount of damage had been sustained in any place, save only here. Late that evening, about half an hour before sundown, we passengers made our entrance into the city; but it was then too late in the day to see or learn any thing of interest, so we returned directly to our own quarters aboard the ship, and waited in suspense for the coming morn.

Immediately after an early breakfast, Wednesday morning, we put off in a small boat for the shore, and were not a little surprised on arriving there to find every thing so new and so different from what we had supposed. Crowds of the natives, dressed in their peculiar costume, were collected upon the wharves, and were making a great hubbub with their clamorous tongues and noisy actions. They appeared to be an inoffensive, simple-hearted sort of people; but they were inexcusably ignorant, and abominably filthy.

Scarcely had we been in the city half an hour that morning, when I stepped into a barbershop to have the superfluous hair removed from my head and face. While in the very act of shaving me, the barber very suddenly sprang aghast from me towards the door; and the first thing I knew, the whole earth, houses and every thing around me, were quivering in the most terrific manner; but, fortunately for the timid, helpless creatures, the vacillation continued but a few seconds, and no very serious consequences resulted from it. Just at the moment the rumbling and quaking commenced, I could not for my life think what it was; but the barber seemed to understand it immediately, for he had been the unwilling spectator of a much more destructive earthquake only five days before; and consequently, he knew well enough what the matter was. On retiring from the shop, just as I entered the street, a similar shock was experienced, and instantaneously the whole population rushed headlong out of their houses into the thoroughfares, apparently in the greatest distress, and frightened half out of their wits. I observed several of the women particularly, who, upon running into the streets, immediately placed themselves in an attitude of prayer, by falling upon their knees, crossing their hands upon their breasts, and casting their eyes towards heaven. There was something really beautiful and touching in the unfeigned humility with which these awe-struck mortals resigned themselves to the will of Him who alone is able to convulse worlds, or command tranquillity throughout the universe.

Both of these tremors were slight, and neither did much mischief. But the one that occurred four days previous to our arrival came very near laying the whole city in ruins. The custom house, churches, stores, and nearly all the principal buildings were cracked so badly that many of them were considered dangerous. The people were engaged in pulling down some entirely, and repairing others as best they could. The ground was terribly rent in many places; and while on a stroll beyond the limits of the city, I saw one crevasse which was about five inches in width, and so long and so deep that I could find neither end nor bottom to it. We remained in Valparaiso till the afternoon of Saturday, but did not feel any other shock. For myself, I was satisfied with what I saw then, and having been since shaken by them two or three times during my sojourn in California, I hope I shall never feel another.

As for the city itself, we saw nothing that was really beautiful about it. The majority of the residences were built of mud and straw, and covered with tiles; and were, I think, upon the whole, rather inferior to the negro huts upon a southern plantation. The immense sterile hills all round, about, and through the city, presented quite a dreary and desolate appearance, and prevented us from seeing more than half the number of its buildings at the same time. One of the merchants, a New Orleans man, informed me that the population was estimated at from 60,000 to 65,000. Speaking of this merchant reminds me of a remarkable instance of stupidity which came under my observation one morning while visiting his store. He had just received fifty barrels of pork, which the drayman had left before his door, and which he wished to have stowed in his cellar. His regular porter being sick, he hired two doltish countrymen to perform the job. It was stipulated that they should receive a certain sum of money for removing the pork from the street into the cellar; and the bargain being fairly understood on both sides, they began to fulfil their part of the contract, by _lifting_ the barrels instead of rolling them. We allowed them to pursue this toilsome system of labor until they had finished about one fifth of their task, when we interposed and explained to them the easier method of accomplishing it. It is a fact, according to their own confession, that they had not sense enough to avail themselves of the rotundity of the barrels.

Valparaiso surpasses San Francisco in the abruptness of its surface and the barrenness of its soil. There is no plant within sight of the town, except here and there in the little vales and hollows. The inhabitants have to bring all their supplies from beyond the coast range, a distance of nine or ten miles; and as the hills are so large and so steep that they cannot be traversed with vehicles, every thing must be transported upon the backs of mules. The interior of Chili is represented to be a very beautiful and productive country; and, to use the language of her historian, “all the fruits of the earth grow there in the greatest abundance.” Towards noon that day, we chartered some donkeys and rode out about two miles, to a garden called the Vale of Paradise, in the upper part of the city. This was one of the most charming spots I ever beheld, and, with the exception of two or three other little places like it, the only level and fertile piece of ground we saw during the whole time we were there. Here, on the 9th of April, we got apples, pears, peaches, pomegranates, pine apples, quinces, oranges, lemons, figs, bananas, mangoes and melons, to our hearts’ content.

On Thursday, having wandered from my comrades, I began to perambulate the streets alone, determined to see and learn as much of the city as practicable. At last I found I had wandered very nearly to its northern outskirts, when I came to a little winding path, which I followed up till it led me to the opened gate of a beautiful, palisaded inclosure. Upon looking in I observed a long, clean, level walk in the midst of the most delectable garden I ever saw. All the way overhead, from one end of the walk to the other, there were large, luscious clusters of grapes, hanging down in the richest profusion; while on either side there seemed to be an actual rivalry in growth and luxuriance between the various fruits and vegetables. About half way up the walk, in a well shaded place, two middle-aged men, dressed in long robes, and with books in their hands, were sitting on a bench, reading. Still I continued to stand at the gate, admiring the fascinating scenery before me, being seen by nobody, and seeing no one myself, except the two gownsmen, whose attention seemed to be wholly absorbed by their books. To go in I feared would not only be an interruption to the quietude and serenity which pervaded those elysian grounds, but also an intrusion upon the privacy of gentlemen whom I had no right to disturb. However, hoping to frame a reasonable excuse by offering to purchase some fruit, I stepped in, and slowly approaching the literary group, inquired, “Do you speak English?” Scarcely had the words fallen from my tongue, when the one who sat farthest from me arose, and having replied in the affirmative, extended his hand towards me in a very cordial manner, and then asked me a long question in Latin, not a word of which I understood except the termination, which was “St. Patrick?” Manifesting by my looks, as well as I could, my ignorance of his ecclesiastical salutation, interrogation, or whatever it was, he immediately dropped his classical lore, and conversed with me freely in English--both of us, in the meantime, promenading up and down the lovely arbor. From him I learned that the adjoining buildings were occupied as a Roman Catholic college, and that this garden was exclusively for the use and benefit of the priests, of whom he was one, as well as a professor in the institution. He informed me that it was the largest and most popular college in Chili, and that they had students from nearly all the republics and provinces of the continent. He himself was a native of Belgium, but had emigrated to South America as a missionary some fifteen years prior to the time I saw him. The book he then held in his hand was a Spanish history of the United States; and as he asked me a great many questions concerning our country, I inferred that he felt a good deal of interest in it. Upon the whole, he appeared to be a very kindhearted and well-disposed man. Just before leaving, he presented me with a mammoth bunch of delicious grapes, and at parting, gave my hand a courteous and sincere shake.

At this place we parted with the wrecked crew we had picked up five weeks before, leaving them in the hands of the Russian consul. But before bidding a final adieu to the captain, we purchased a gold ring and inclosed it in a sympathizing epistle to his wife, condoling with her in her husband’s misfortunes. When we committed the letter and little keepsake to his charge, he seemed to be very much affected, and acknowledged himself under a thousand obligations to us.

Little occurred on our passage from Valparaiso to San Francisco worthy of note, except the myriads of fish of various kinds which we saw between the tropics, the sublime sunrises and sunsets, the enchanting moonlight evenings, and the phosphorescent phenomena of the ocean at night. The Pacific far surpasses the Atlantic in beauty and diversity of ocean scenery. Its gentle gales and placid waves inexpressibly charm the heart of the sailor. Almost every species of fish, from the tiny pilchard to the monstrous whale may be found in its waters; while countless numbers of aquatic birds, from the diminutive petrel to the ponderous albatross, swim lazily upon its bosom.

Six days after leaving Valparaiso we passed within a short distance of the St. Felix Islands, which rise alone out of the world of water. We could see nothing that had life in it about them, nor any thing that was inviting or pleasing to the eye. On the morning of the 5th May, we again crossed the equator, in longitude 114°.

This voyage afforded us an excellent opportunity for reading; but it may well be supposed that, in traveling seventeen thousand miles upon the water, we were sometimes overcome with ennui. As a refuge from this monotony of “life on the ocean wave,” we betook ourselves to games of euchre, whist, chess, backgammon and solitaire. Our ship being very large, perfectly new, beautifully and comfortably finished, and furnished with the very best accommodations, eatables and drinkables, we enjoyed ourselves remarkably well, except while sea-sick, or when dashed and beaten about by ill-bred storms and hurricanes. As there were only six passengers besides myself, we had abundance of room; and being together so long, and secluded from all other society, we became as sociable and familiar as if we had all been members of the same household. A very amiable and estimable young lady, the sister of a passenger, and the only female on board, contributed in an eminent degree to the pleasure of the trip.

We arrived in San Francisco on the 25th of May, having made the passage in one hundred and thirteen days from New York. This was a very quick run, considering the misfortunes we met with off the Bermudas. If we had not been dismasted, we would probably have reached our destination twelve or fifteen days earlier. The Flying Cloud, clipper-modeled, and built almost exactly like the Stag Hound, ran from New York to San Francisco in eighty-nine days, which is the shortest voyage that has yet been made by a sailing vessel between the two ports. Many of the old-fashioned ships crawl along for seven or eight months: and I know one blunt, tub-like carac which consumed three hundred and seventy days in the passage.