Two Years Before the Mast
minutes, all was uproar and apparent confusion: men flying about like
monkeys in the rigging; ropes and blocks flying; orders given and
answered, and the confused noises of men singing out at the ropes. The
top-sails came to the mast-heads with "Cheerily, men!" and, in a few
minutes, every sail was set; for the wind was light. The head sails
were backed, the windlass came round "slip-slap" to the cry of the
sailors;--"Hove short, sir," said the mate;--"Up with him!"--"Aye, aye,
sir."--A few hearty and long heaves, and the anchor showed its head.
"Hook cat!"--The fall was stretched along the decks; all hands laid
hold;--"Hurrah, for the last time," said the mate; and the anchor came
to the cat-head to the tune of "Time for us to go," with a loud chorus.
Everything was done quick, as though it were for the last time. The
head yards were filled away, and our ship began to move through the
water on her homeward-bound course.
The California had got under weigh at the same moment; and we sailed
down the narrow bay abreast and were just off the mouth, and finding
ourselves gradually shooting ahead of her, were on the point of giving
her three parting cheers, when, suddenly, we found ourselves stopped
short, and the California ranging fast ahead of us. A bar stretches
across the mouth of the harbor, with water enough to float common
vessels, but, being low in the water, and having kept well to leeward,
as we were bound to the southward, we had stuck fast, while the
California, being light, had floated over.
We kept all sail on, in the hope of forcing over, but failing in this,
we hove aback, and lay waiting for the tide, which was on the flood, to
take us back into the channel. This was somewhat of a damper to us,
and the captain looked not a little mortified and vexed. "This is the
same place where the Rosa got ashore," observed the redheaded second
mate, most mal-a-propos. A malediction on the Rosa, and him too, was
all the answer he got, and he slunk off to leeward. In a few minutes,
the force of the wind and the rising of the tide backed us into the
stream, and we were on our way to our old anchoring-place, the tide
setting swiftly up, and the ship barely manageable, in the light
breeze. We came-to, in our old berth, opposite the hide-house, whose
inmates were not a little surprised to see us return. We felt as
though we were tied to California; and some of the crew swore that they
never should get clear of the bloody coast.
In about half an hour, which was near high water, the order was given
to man the windlass, and again the anchor was catted; but not a word
was said about the last time. The California had come back on finding
that we had returned, and was hove-to, waiting for us, off the point.
This time we passed the bar safely, and were soon up with the
California, who filled away, and kept us company.
She seemed desirous of a trial of speed, and our captain accepted the
challenge, although we were loaded down to the bolts of our chain
plates, as deep as a sand-barge, and bound so taut with our cargo
that we were no more fit for a race than a man in fetters;--while our
antagonist was in her best trim. Being clear of the point, the breeze
became stiff, and the royal masts bent under our sails, but we would
not take them in until we saw three boys spring aloft into the rigging
of the California; when they were all furled at once, but with orders
to stay aloft at the top-gallant mastheads, and loose them again at the
word. It was my duty to furl the fore royal; and while standing by to
loose it again, I had a fine view of the scene. From where I stood,
the two vessels seemed nothing but spars and sails, while their narrow
decks, far below, slanting over by the force of the wind aloft,
appeared hardly capable of supporting the great fabrics raised upon
them. The California was to windward of us, and had every advantage;
yet, while the breeze was stiff, we held our own. As soon as it began
to slacken, she ranged a little ahead, and the order was given to loose
the royals. In an instant the gaskets were off and the bunt dropped.
"Sheet home the fore royal!--Weather sheet's home!"--"Hoist away, sir!"
is bawled from aloft. "Overhaul your clew-lines!" shouts the mate.
"Aye, aye, sir, all clear!"--"taut leech! belay! Well the lee brace;
haul taut to windward"--and the royals are set. These brought us up
again; but the wind continuing light, the California set hers, and it
was soon evident that she was walking away from us. Our captain then
hailed, and said that he should keep off to his course; adding--"She
isn't the Alert now. If I had her in your trim, she would have been
out of sight by this time." This was good-naturedly answered from the
California, and she braced sharp up, and stood close upon the wind up
the coast; while we squared away our yards, and stood before the wind
to the south-south-west. The California's crew manned her weather
rigging, waved their hats in the air, and gave up three hearty cheers,
which we answered as heartily, and the customary single cheer came back
to us from over the water. She stood on her way, doomed to eighteen
months' or two years' hard service upon that hated coast, while we were
making our way to our home, to which every hour and every mile was
bringing us nearer.
As soon as we parted company with the California, all hands were sent
aloft to set the studding-sails. Booms were rigged out, tacks and
halyards rove, sail after sail packed upon her, until every available
inch of canvas was spread, that we might not lose a breath of the fair
wind. We could now see how much she was cramped and deadened by her
cargo; for with a good breeze on her quarter, and every stitch of
canvas spread, we could not get more than six knots out of her. She
had no more life in her than if she were water-logged. The log was
hove several times; but she was doing her best. We had hardly patience
with her, but the older sailors said--"Stand by! you'll see her work
herself loose in a week or two, and then she'll walk up to Cape Horn
like a race-horse."
When all sail had been set, and the decks cleared up, the California
was a speck in the horizon, and the coast lay like a low cloud along
the north-east. At sunset they were both out of sight, and we were
once more upon the ocean where sky and water meet.
[1] When the crew were paid off in Boston, the owners answered the
order, but generously refused to deduct the amount from the pay-roll,
saying that the exchange was made under compulsion. They also allowed
S---- his exchange money.
CHAPTER XXX
BEGINNING THE LONG RETURN VOYAGE--A SCARE
At eight o'clock all hands were called aft, and the watches set for the
voyage. Some changes were made; but I was glad to find myself still in
the larboard watch. Our crew was somewhat diminished; for a man and a
boy had gone in the Pilgrim; another was second mate of the Ayacucho;
and a third, the oldest man of the crew, had broken down under the hard
work and constant exposure on the coast, and, having had a stroke of
the palsy, was left behind at the hide-house under the charge of
Captain Arthur. The poor fellow wished very much to come home in the
ship; and he ought to have been brought home in her. But a live dog is
better than a dead lion, and a sick sailor belongs to nobody's mess; so
he was sent ashore with the rest of the lumber, which was only in the
way. By these diminutions, we were short-handed for a voyage round Cape
Horn in the dead of winter. Besides S---- and myself, there were only
five in the forecastle; who, together with four boys in the steerage,
the sailmaker, carpenter, etc., composed the whole crew. In addition
to this, we were only three or four days out, when the sailmaker, who
was the oldest and best seaman on board, was taken with the palsy, and
was useless for the rest of the voyage. The constant wading in the
water, in all weathers, to take off hides, together with the other
labors, is too much for old men, and for any who have not good
constitutions. Beside these two men of ours, the second officer of the
California and the carpenter of the Pilgrim broke down under the work,
and the latter died at Santa Barbara. The young man, too, who came out
with us from Boston in the Pilgrim, had to be taken from his berth
before the mast and made clerk, on account of a fit of rheumatism which
attacked him soon after he came upon the coast. By the loss of the
sailmaker, our watch was reduced to five, of whom two were boys, who
never steered but in fine weather, so that the other two and myself had
to stand at the wheel four hours apiece out of every twenty-four; and
the other watch had only four helmsmen. "Never mind--we're homeward
bound!" was the answer to everything; and we should not have minded
this, were it not for the thought that we should be off Cape Horn in
the very dead of winter. It was now the first part of May; and two
months would bring us off the cape in July, which is the worst month in
the year there; when the sun rises at nine and sets at three, giving
eighteen hours night, and there is snow and rain, gales and high seas,
in abundance.
The prospect of meeting this in a ship half manned, and loaded so deep
that every heavy sea must wash her fore and aft, was by no means
pleasant. The Alert, in her passage out, doubled the Cape in the month
of February, which is midsummer; and we came round in the Pilgrim in
the latter part of October, which we thought was bad enough. There was
only one of our crew who had been off there in the winter, and that was
in a whaleship, much lighter and higher than our ship; yet he said they
had man-killing weather for twenty days without intermission, and their
decks were swept twice, and they were all glad enough to see the last
of it. The Brandywine frigate, also, in her passage round, had sixty
days off the Cape, and lost several boats by the heavy sea. All this
was for our comfort; yet pass it we must; and all hands agreed to make
the best of it.
During our watches below we overhauled our clothes, and made and mended
everything for bad weather. Each of us had made for himself a suit of
oil-cloth or tarpaulin, and these we got out, and gave thorough
coatings of oil or tar, and hung upon the stays to dry.
Our stout boots, too, we covered over with a thick mixture of melted
grease and tar, and hung out to dry. Thus we took advantage of the
warm sun and fine weather of the Pacific to prepare for its other face.
In the forenoon watches below, our forecastle looked like the workshop
of what a sailor is,--a Jack at all trades. Thick stockings and
drawers were darned and patched; mittens dragged from the bottom of the
chest and mended; comforters made for the neck and ears; old flannel
shirts cut up to line monkey jackets; south-westers lined with flannel,
and a pot of paint smuggled forward to give them a coat on the outside;
and everything turned to hand; so that, although two years had left us
but a scanty wardrobe, yet the economy and invention which necessity
teaches a sailor, soon put each of us in pretty good trim for bad
weather, even before we had seen the last of the fine. Even the
cobbler's art was not out of place. Several old shoes were very
decently repaired, and with waxed ends, an awl, and the top of an old
boot, I made me quite a respectable sheath for my knife.
There was one difficulty, however, which nothing that we could do would
remedy; and that was the leaking of the forecastle, which made it very
uncomfortable in bad weather, and rendered half of the berths
tenantless. The tightest ships, in a long voyage, from the constant
strain which is upon the bowsprit, will leak, more or less, round the