Two Years Before the Mast
larger. At noon we were in latitude 55° 12' south, and supposed
longitude 89° 5' west. Toward night the wind hauled to the southward,
and headed us off our course a little, and blew a tremendous gale; but
this we did not mind, as there was no rain nor snow, and we were
already under close sail.
Monday, July 4th. This was "independence day" in Boston. What firing
of guns, and ringing of bells, and rejoicings of all sorts, in every
part of our country! The ladies (who have not gone down to Nahant, for
a breath of cool air, and sight of the ocean) walking the streets with
parasols over their heads, and the dandies in their white pantaloons
and silk stockings! What quantities of ice-cream have been eaten, and
what quantities of ice brought into the city from a distance, and sold
out by the lump and the pound! The smallest of the islands which we
saw today would have made the fortune of poor Jack, if he had had it in
Boston; and I dare say he would have had no objection to being there
with it. This, to be sure, was no place to keep the fourth of July.
To keep ourselves warm, and the ship out of the ice, was as much as we
could do. Yet no one forgot the day; and many were the wishes, and
conjectures, and comparisons, both serious and ludicrous, which were
made among all hands. The sun shone bright as long as it was up, only
that a scud of black clouds was ever and anon driving across it. At
noon we were in lat. 54° 27' S., and long. 85° 5' W., having made a
good deal of easting, but having lost in our latitude by the heading of
the wind. Between daylight and dark--that is, between nine o'clock and
three--we saw thirty-four ice islands, of various sizes; some no bigger
than the hull of our vessel, and others apparently nearly as large as
the one that we first saw; though, as we went on, the islands became
smaller and more numerous; and, at sundown of this day, a man at the
mast-head saw large fields of floating ice called "field-ice" at the
south-east. This kind of ice is much more dangerous than the large
islands, for those can be seen at a distance, and kept away from; but
the field-ice, floating in great quantities, and covering the ocean for
miles and miles, in pieces of every size--large, flat, and broken
cakes, with here and there an island rising twenty and thirty feet, and
as large as the ship's hull;--this, it is very difficult to sheer clear
of. A constant look-out was necessary; for any of these pieces, coming
with the heave of the sea, were large enough to have knocked a hole in
the ship, and that would have been the end of us; for no boat (even if
we could have got one out) could have lived in such a sea; and no man
could have lived in a boat in such weather. To make our condition
still worse, the wind came out due east, just after sundown, and it
blew a gale dead ahead, with hail and sleet, and a thick fog, so that
we could not see half the length of the ship. Our chief reliance, the
prevailing westerly gales, was thus cut off; and here we were, nearly
seven hundred miles to the westward of the Cape, with a gale dead from
the eastward, and the weather so thick that we could not see the ice
with which we were surrounded, until it was directly under our bows.
At four, P. M. (it was then quite dark) all hands were called, and sent
aloft in a violent squall of hail and rain, to take in sail. We had
now all got on our "Cape Horn rig"--thick boots, south-westers coming
down over our neck and ears, thick trowsers and jackets, and some with
oil-cloth suits over all. Mittens, too, we wore on deck, but it would
not do to go aloft with them on, for it was impossible to work with
them, and, being wet and stiff, they might let a man slip overboard,
for all the hold he could get upon a rope; so, we were obliged to work
with bare hands, which, as well as our faces, were often cut with the
hail-stones, which fell thick and large. Our ship was now all cased
with ice,--hull, spars, and standing rigging;--and the running rigging
so stiff that we could hardly bend it so as to belay it, or, still
worse, take a knot with it; and the sails nearly as stiff as sheet
iron. One at a time, (for it was a long piece of work and required
many hands,) we furled the courses, mizen topsail, and fore-topmast
staysail, and close-reefed the fore and main topsails, and hove the
ship to under the fore, with the main hauled up by the clewlines and
buntlines, and ready to be sheeted home, if we found it necessary to
make sail to get to windward of an ice island. A regular look-out was
then set, and kept by each watch in turn, until the morning. It was a
tedious and anxious night. It blew hard the whole time, and there was
an almost constant driving of either rain, hail, or snow. In addition
to this, it was "as thick as muck," and the ice was all about us. The
captain was on deck nearly the whole night, and kept the cook in the
galley, with a roaring fire, to make coffee for him, which he took
every few hours, and once or twice gave a little to his officers; but
not a drop of anything was there for the crew. The captain, who sleeps
all the daytime, and comes and goes at night as he chooses, can have
his brandy and water in the cabin, and his hot coffee at the galley;
while Jack, who has to stand through everything, and work in wet and
cold, can have nothing to wet his lips or warm his stomach.
This was a "temperance ship," and, like too many such ships, the
temperance was all in the forecastle. The sailor, who only takes his
one glass as it is dealt out to him, is in danger of being drunk; while
the captain, who has all under his hand, and can drink as much as he
chooses, and upon whose self-possession and cool judgment the lives of
all depend, may be trusted with any amount, to drink at his will.
Sailors will never be convinced that rum is a dangerous thing, by
taking it away from them, and giving it to the officers; nor that, that
temperance is their friend, which takes from them what they have always
had, and gives them nothing in the place of it. By seeing it allowed
to their officers, they will not be convinced that it is taken from
them for their good; and by receiving nothing in its place, they will
not believe that it is done in kindness. On the contrary, many of them
look upon the change as a new instrument of tyranny. Not that they
prefer rum. I never knew a sailor, in my life, who would not prefer a
pot of hot coffee or chocolate, in a cold night, to all the rum afloat.
They all say that rum only warms them for a time; yet, if they can get
nothing better, they will miss what they have lost. The momentary
warmth and glow from drinking it; the break and change which is made in
a long, dreary watch by the mere calling all hands aft and serving of
it out; and the simply having some event to look forward to, and to
talk about; give it an importance and a use which no one can appreciate
who has not stood his watch before the mast. On my passage round Cape
Horn before, the vessel that I was in was not under temperance
articles, and grog was served out every middle and morning watch, and
after every reefing of topsails; and though I had never drank rum
before, and never intend to again, I took my allowance then at the
capstan, as the rest did, merely for the momentary warmth it gave the
system, and the change in our feelings and aspect of our duties on the
watch. At the same time, as I have stated, there was not a man on
board who would not have pitched the rum to the dogs, (I have heard
them say so, a dozen times) for a pot of coffee or chocolate; or even
for our common beverage--"water bewitched, and tea begrudged," as it
was.[1]
The temperance reform is the best thing that ever was undertaken for
the sailor; but when the grog is taken from him, he ought to have
something in its place. As it is now, in most vessels, it is a mere
saving to the owners; and this accounts for the sudden increase of
temperance ships, which surprised even the best friends of the cause.
If every merchant, when he struck grog from the list of the expenses of
his ship, had been obliged to substitute as much coffee, or chocolate,
as would give each man a pot-full when he came off the topsail yard, on
a stormy night;--I fear Jack might have gone to ruin on the old
road.[2] But this is not doubling Cape Horn. Eight hours of the
night, our watch was on deck, and during the whole of that time we kept
a bright look-out: one man on each bow, another in the bunt of the fore
yard, the third mate on the scuttle, one on each quarter, and a man
always standing by the wheel. The chief mate was everywhere, and
commanded the ship when the captain was below.
When a large piece of ice was seen in our way, or drifting near us, the
word was passed along, and the ship's head turned one way and another;
and sometimes the yards squared or braced up. There was little else to
do than to look out; and we had the sharpest eyes in the ship on the
forecastle. The only variety was the monotonous voice of the look-out
forward--"Another island!"--"Ice ahead!"--"Ice on the lee bow!"--"Hard
up the helm!"--"Keep her off a little!"--"Stead-y!"
In the meantime, the wet and cold had brought my face into such a state
that I could neither eat nor sleep; and though I stood it out all
night, yet, when it became light, I was in such a state, that all hands
told me I must go below, and lie-by for a day or two, or I should be
laid up for a long time, and perhaps have the lock-jaw.
When the watch was changed I went into the steerage, and took off my
hat and comforter, and showed my face to the mate, who told me to go
below at once, and stay in my berth until the swelling went down, and
gave the cook orders to make a poultice for me, and said he would speak
to the captain.
I went below and turned-in, covering myself over with blankets and
jackets, and lay in my berth nearly twenty-four hours, half asleep and
half awake, stupid, from the dull pain. I heard the watch called, and
the men going up and down, and sometimes a noise on deck, and a cry of
"ice," but I gave little attention to anything. At the end of
twenty-four hours the pain went down, and I had a long sleep, which
brought me back to my proper state; yet my face was so swollen and
tender, that I was obliged to keep to my berth for two or three days
longer. During the two days I had been below, the weather was much the
same that it had been, head winds, and snow and rain; or, if the wind
came fair, too foggy, and the ice too thick, to run. At the end of the
third day the ice was very thick; a complete fog-bank covered the ship.
It blew a tremendous gale from the eastward, with sleet and snow, and
there was every promise of a dangerous and fatiguing night. At dark,
the captain called all hands aft, and told them that not a man was to
leave the deck that night; that the ship was in the greatest danger;
any cake of ice might knock a hole in her, or she might run on an
island and go to pieces. No one could tell whether she would be a ship
the next morning. The look-outs were then set, and every man was put
in his station. When I heard what was the state of things, I began to
put on my clothes to stand it out with the rest of them, when the mate
came below, and looking at my face, ordered me back to my berth, saying
that if we went down, we should all go down together, but if I went on
deck I might lay myself up for life. This was the first word I had
heard from aft; for the captain had done nothing, nor inquired how I
was, since I went below.
In obedience to the mate's orders, I went back to my berth; but a more
miserable night I never wish to spend. I never felt the curse of
sickness so keenly in my life. If I could only have been on deck with