# Twenty years before the mast/Chapter III

CHAPTER III
Rio de Janeiro is built at the entrance of a bay one hundred miles in circumference, sprinkled here and there with ever green islands. There the flags of all nations may be seen, each floating from a man-of-war. Among other vessels there was the English line-of-battle ship Thunderer, of ninety guns and a crew of one thousand men. They usually sang on board of her every night, and always wound up at eight bells by singing the first or second part of "The Chesapeake and Shannon," which was very aggravating to American patriotism.
The Chesapeake and Shannon; or,
The Glorious Fight Off Boston Lighthouse.
I.
"She comes, she comes, in glorious style. To quarters fly, ye hearts of oak!  Success shall soon reward our toil," Exclaimed the gallant Captain Broke. "Three cheers, my brave boys, let your ardor bespeak,
And give them a round from your cannon, And soon they shall find that the proud Chesapeake
Shall lower her flag to the Shannon."
Lawrence, Columbia’s pride and boast, Of conquest counted sure as fate.  He thus address’d his haughty host, With form erect and heart elate: "Three cheers, my brave boys, let your courage bespeak
And give them a taste of your cannon; And soon they shall know that the proud Chesapeake
Shall ne’er lower a flag to the Shannon."
 Silent as death each foe drew nigh. While lock’d in hostile, close embrace
 Brave Broke, with British seaman’s eye, The signs of terror soon could trace. He exclaim’d, while his looks did his ardor bespeak:
"Brave boys, they all flinch from their cannon;
Board, board, my brave messmates; the proud Chesapeake Shall soon be a prize for the Shannon."
 Swift flew the word — Britannia’s sons Spread death and terror where they came;  The trembling foe forsook their guns, And called aloud on Mercy’s name. Brave Broke led the way, but fell, wounded and weak,
But exclaim’d: "They have fled from their cannon;
Three cheers, my brave seamen, the proud Chesapeake
Has lower’d her flag to the Shannon."
 The day was won, but Lawrence fell; He closed his eyes in endless night;  And oft Columbia’s sons will tell Of hopes all blighted in that fight. But brave Captain Broke, though wounded and weak,
Survived, again to play his cannon; And his name from the shores of the wide Chesapeake
Shall resound to the banks of the Shannon.
II.
At Boston, one day, As the Chesapeake lay, The captain and crew thus began on: "See that ship out at sea! She our prize soon shall be, 'Tis the tight little frigate, the Shannon. How I long to be drubbing the Shannon,
Oh! ’twill be a good joke
To take Commodore Broke, And add to our navy the Shannon."
Then he made a great bluster, Calling all hands to muster, And said: "Now, boys, stand firm to your cannon
Let us get under way, Without further delay, And capture the insolent Shannon. We shall soon bear down on the Shannon; The Chesapeake's prize is the Shannon; Within two hours’ space, We’ll return to this place, And bring into harbor the Shannon!"
Now alongside they range
And broadsides they exchange, But the Yankees soon flinch from their cannon;
When captain and crew, Without further to-do, Are attacked sword in hand from the Shannon;
And the tight little tars of the Shannon
Fir’d a friendly salute, Just to end the dispute, And the Chesapeake struck to the Shannon.
Let America know The respect she should show
To our national flag and our cannon; And let her take heed, That the Thames and the Tweed
Give us tars just as brave as the Shannon. Here’s to Commodore Broke of the Shannon, To the sons of Thames, Tweed, and Shannon: May the olive of peace
Soon bid enmity cease, From the Chesapeake’s shores to the Shannon!
One night Commander Wilkes happened to appear on deck just as they were singing the obnoxious song, which seemed to annoy him extremely. I will do him the justice to say that, with all his tyranny, he was a true American, and loved dearly the old flag. One of the crew went aft and asked him if we might return that song next Saturday evening by giving them "The Parliaments of England." "Yes, my man," was the reply, "and give it to them in thunderous tones, with plenty of Yankee lightning." Fifty of the best singers began to practice, and on the next Saturday evening, just as the crew on board of the Thunderer had finished singing their usual song, our chorus commenced:
The Parliaments of England.
Ye Parliaments of England, ye Lords and Commons too, Consider well what you’re about and what you mean to do. For you’re now at war with Yankees, and I’m sure you’ll rue the day
You first roused the Sons of Liberty in North America. You thought our frigates were but few, and Yankees could not fight.
Until bold Hull the Guerriere took, and banished her from sight.
The Wasp next took your Frolic. You nothing said to that.
The Protectress being off the line, of course you took her back. Oh, then your Macedonian! No finer ship could swim, —
Decatur knocked her gilt work off, and then he towed her in. Then you sent your Boxer, to box us all about, But we had an enterprising brig that beat your boxer out, And boxed her up to Portland, and moored her off the town
To show the Sons of Liberty the Boxer of renown. Then upon Lake Erie brave Perry had some fun, —
You owned he beat your naval force and caused them all to run.
Then upon Lake Champlain, the like ne’er known before, A British squadron beat complete, some took, some run ashore.
Then your Indian allies, — you styled them by the name
Until they turned the tomahawk, then savages they became, —
Your mean insinuations despising from their hearts, They joined the Sons of Liberty and acted well their parts. Go tell your king and parliament — by all the world ’tis known —
That what you gained by British force the Yankees have o’erthrown.
It was sung with such a will that it re-echoed throughout the silent bay and made the welkin ring. We soon heard the call of the boatswain followed by his mates, calling all hands to cheer ship, and then we were given three times three, from the one thousand voices on board the ninety-gun ship.
While on shore one day with one of my messmates, an old privateersman, we were taken in tow by a mighty clever man, who treated us several times, and finally coaxed us on board his brig. He tried to persuade us to desert our ship, and go with him to the coast of Africa to trade for gold dust and ivory. He took us down into his cabin and showed us many tricks of the trade. Arriving on deck and seeing the coast clear, I told him all the gold dust was in his eye and the ivory in the negroes’ mouths. My old messmate gave me such a slap on the ​back that it came very near shivering my timbers. "Well!" said he, "what sort of a craft have you not sailed in, my lad?"
After our arrival at this place, two slavers were brought into port by an English man-of-war brig. I was on board of one of them when they took off the hatches. Though quite a small brig, she had confined in her hold three hundred negroes. When the hatches were opened, such a cloud of steam and such a horrible smell issued that it staggered everybody on deck. They found only thirty living human beings out of three hundred. This was only one of the many horrors of the African slave-trade.
Sugarloaf Hill is so called from its shape. It is one immense, isolated rock, and lifts its almost perpendicular sides to the clouds. It is about one thousand feet above the level of the sea. It is said that its summit has been reached by only one person, and he an Englishman, who in triumph planted his country’s flag and left it there, but was never seen afterwards. We ascended the mountain for the purpose of taking observations. We did not reach its summit till after dark, so had to remain there all night. We had with us several fathoms of lead line with which we lashed ourselves together, so that none of us could roll off while asleep. I have heard it said that a Scotch mist wets an Englishman through to the skin, and that a Peruvian dew wets a true-blue through as well. Sure enough, in the morning we found ourselves wet through with the Sugarloaf dew. Up there we found the pitcher plant growing. It bore a small flower that looked just like a pitcher. It was the color of a purple morning-glory, only much handsomer. It hung ​from the stem of the plant as if from a little handle, while drop after drop fell from its mouth.
While in this port we received a letter-bag from home by a ship just from New York. Bill Roberts, a Boston boy, got two letters and read them to me. It made me feel badly to hear them, and I asked him if he could write. "Why, I wrote home just before we sailed from Old Point Comfort, and then again from Madeira," said he. Without saying another word, I went down to the berth deck into the yeoman’s storeroom, and told him that I wanted to learn to write. He made some straight marks and some that were not straight on a piece of paper, and told me to copy them in ship-shape fashion. I did copy them every chance I got. Finally I began to think it very silly to continue making those straight marks, so I asked the yeoman one day to write as plainly as he could the word "mother," which he did. I went to work copying, and covered many fathoms of paper with that precious name.
The palace of the Emperor Dom Pedro was in full view from our ship. The fact that it was a palace was the only thing that recommended it to passing notice. It was opposite the only landing for boats on the beach. On the emperor’s birthday all the ships in the harbor were decorated with flags, and at twelve o’clock, noon, twenty-one guns were fired in honor of his attained majority.
The streets of Rio Janeiro are long and very narrow. Like those of all Spanish and Portuguese towns, they are also very filthy. The poorer classes are indeed poor, while the condition of the slaves is pitiable. They are ​driven about the streets, yoked together with heavy necklaces of iron and urged on by a driver. They are the
SLAVES SLEEPING.
only burden-bearers, and outnumber the whites five to one.
On the 6th of January, all our repairs being finished, we dropped down the harbor. On passing the frigate Independence we were saluted with six rousing cheers, which were returned with a will. We were favored with fine weather, and the squadron sailed in company. The bleak and lofty mountains fast receded from our view, and in a short time were swallowed up in the distance. The first part of this month was very pleasant, but we were destined to experience some little change. The morning of the 15th set in cloudy. At five bells it commenced to rain smartly, with all the wind we wanted. The wind soon increased to a gale, and at ten o’clock all hands were called to close-reef topsails. There was a pelting rain, and the drops, as they struck on the backs of our hands and in our faces, felt like shot.
At daylight on the 25th "Land ho! "was sung out from the mast-head, and at five o’clock we came to anchor in five fathoms of water off Rio Negro, on the coast ​of Patagonia. Our scientific men went ashore in quest of objects in their different departments, and to see what
GROUP OF PATAGONIANS.
curiosities could be found. The other officers were busily engaged in surveying, etc. There is a considerable Spanish settlement on this coast, about twenty miles from the mouth of the river, and also a village of about two thousand inhabitants, consisting mostly of women and soldiers. When they saw the squadron standing in, they fled into the country, mistaking us for a French fleet, as they were at war with France at the time. They soon found out their mistake, however, and returned, some of them minus their dinner, which they had left on their tables in their hurry to escape. This district of Patagonia abounds in all kinds of game, while fine horses and horned cattle are numerous. We brought off some armadillos ​and some young ostriches and ostrich eggs. The Patagonians are a fine race of people, unusually tall and well- formed.
PATAGONIAN BEAUTY.
On the 30th of January a strong land-breeze began to blow, which obliged us to get under way and beat out to sea. The weather now began to grow cold, the thermometer ranging from 50° to 45°. Our ship glided through the water like a thing of life. For several days many whales, seals, and porpoises showed themselves on the surface of the water. The porpoises differed from any I had ever seen before, in having a stripe around ​their necks. We captured several of them, and this made a fresh mess for all hands round. The next night at midnight we had a view of the rugged peaks of Terra del Fuego, and at twelve o’clock we entered the Straits of La Maire. The land here presents rather a dreary appearance. The high peaks on either hand are covered with snow, even in midsummer.
At sunset we passed the straits and again entered the open sea. We doubled Cape Horn in our shirt-sleeves, with studding sails set on both sides, below and aloft, and left it under close-reefed top-sails, with our pea-jackets on. We had but just rounded the cape and arrived in the South Pacific, or summer seas, when the wind suddenly shifted to the south, blowing a perfect gale from the regions of perpetual ice and snow. The change of temperature was sudden and keenly felt, and made us hug our pea-jackets closely about us. Such is the life of a sailor — from one extreme to another. Cape Horn is in latitude 55°48′ south, and sometimes vessels are driven as far as 60°, in order to get round into the Pacific. Cape Horn is called the "stormy cape." It takes its name from the peculiar hornlike shape of its rocky mountain heights, which terminate the land. Be it fair or foul, rain or shine, in all weather and at all seasons, Cape Horn is a terror to the sailor, and many a long yarn is spun in the forecastle by poor Jack as this much-dreaded point is approached.
On the 18th of February we came to anchor in Orange Harbor, Terra del Fuego, or, as the name implies, the "land of fire." This is the first harbor on the western side of Cape Horn. The cape was discovered by ​Magellan in the year 1519. It was at this spot that the celebrated circumnavigators, Captains Cook, King, Fitzroy, Laplace, d’Urville, and others used to make their rendezvous and lay in a supply of wood and water. The harbor is land-locked, and is the safest on the coast. It has many small bays, the best of which is Dingy Cove. Here boats may enter to obtain wood, and from its banks game and fish may be taken in great abundance. Everything about has a bleak and wintry appearance and is in keeping with the climate, yet the scenery is pleasing to the eye.
The 22d of February was duly observed by the hoisting of flags and "splicing the mainbrace." We had not time to make a holiday of it. While here we saw many of the native Fuegians. They are not more than five feet high, and are of a light copper-color, but their original hue is almost obscured by smut and dirt. Their faces are short, with narrow foreheads and high cheekbones, eyes small and black, noses broad and flat, with wide-spread nostrils, and mouths extremely large. As one old sailor said: "They could not open them any wider, unless the Almighty set their ears back." Their hair is long and black, hanging straight over the face, and is covered with ashes. The whole face is compressed. Their bodies are remarkable for the great development of the chest. Their arms are long and slim; but their lower limbs are small and ill-shaped. There is, in fact, no difference between the size of the ankle and leg. This want of development is owing to their constant sitting posture, both in their huts and canoes. It is impossible to imagine anything in human shape more filthy. ​The climate is always at freezing point here, even in summer, which lasts through January and February. Notwithstanding the severe cold, their only article of dress is a piece of sealskin worn over the shoulders, and this they change according to the way the wind blows. They are very much pleased at receiving pieces of red flannel, which they prefer torn into strips rather than in the whole piece. These they wind around their heads in turban style, and it is amusing to see their satisfaction at this small addition to their wardrobe. The home of the Fuegian is in his small, frail canoe, or in his miserable hut, built from limbs of trees. The ends of these are bent together in the form of a cone and covered well with seaweed. The floor is mother earth, and is carpeted with some of the same seaweed as that upon the roof. Their food consists of snails, limpets, wild berries, roots, and shell-fish. Sometimes they find a dead whale that has drifted into the kelp; then they enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner. While we were on shore one of the natives seemed anxious to talk with us. He pointed to the sou’west and then again to the ship, after which, clasping his hands in the attitude of prayer, he said, "Eloh, eloh," as though he thought we had come from God. One day a party of natives came on board. They were highly delighted and surprised at everything they saw. When they left the ship most of them were dressed in sailor rig. Jack was bound to make everything fit. If a jacket was found to be too small, a slit was made down the back. If a pair of trousers proved to be too small around the waist, a piece of spun yarn remedied the defect. If the legs were too long, the ​sheath knife was resorted to. Most difficult to fit was an old uniform coat given to an old woman. This she concluded belonged to her nether limbs. Her feet were thrust through the armholes, and after a hard squeeze
TERRA DEL FUEGIAN.
she succeeded in getting the sleeves on. The tails were then brought up in front, and she took her place in the canoe with pride and satisfaction amid roars of laughter from the crew.
​One bean-soup day a canoe came alongside, full of natives, and I handed them my tin pan half full of soup, through one of the port-holes. It was so hot that they dipped it in the sea, and it was then so salt they could not eat it. They poured it overboard and kept the pan, and no signs or threats would induce them to return it; so I was a quarter out, besides my regular beans. If any one on board had advanced the idea that some day they would become civilized, he would have been thrown overboard for a Jonah. It was here that Father Coyne first began his missionary labors. Finding his efforts useless, he went to the Sandwich Islands. The Terra del Fuegians seem but little above the brute creation, and are the lowest in the scale of humanity. Well might we ask ourselves, "Who are these so haggard, and so wild in their attire, who look not like the inhabitants of earth, and still dwell on it?"
Having made preparations for an Antarctic cruise, we weighed anchor on the 25th and put out to sea. For several days it had been blowing furiously, with a high sea running. This was a good time to measure the height
DIAGRAM OF WAVE.
of the wave, for seldom will the sea be observed to run higher than off Cape Horn, where two oceans meet. To get the height of the wave, we sighted the schooner while in the trough of the sea, and cut the mast to the horizon ​with our eye from the Porpoise, as in the illustration. This measurement gave as a result thirty-two feet. Spray can dash up over a hundred feet, but the waves seldom run over thirty odd feet, and are never "mountains high."
On the 1st of March we encountered our first icebergs. They were much worn by the action of the sea and frequent storms. The albatross, gray pigeon, and petrel hovered around, and could be seen at times resting, as it were, on the waves. At noon we made Ridley’s Islands, and in the dog-watch sighted Cape Melville. Bearing south by east, the north foreland of King George’s Island could be seen. After cruising for several weeks in these cold, bleak, icy regions, and visiting Aspland’s, Burgman’s, Elephant, Cornwallis’s, and O’Brien’s Islands, the Seal Rocks, the South Shetlands, and Palmer’s Land, we found ourselves in latitude 70° south, the highest ever made up to that time, and south of the ne plus ultra of Captain Cook. On the 7th William Stuart, captain of the maintop on board the Peacock, fell from aloft overboard. He was seen to float feet upward. A bow-line was thrown over his exploring boots and he was drawn on board; but it was a narrow escape, for a boat could not have lived in such a sea. Poor William died soon afterward and his body was committed to a watery grave.
Finding no passage through the icy barrier to the pole, and being nearly hemmed in by those frozen bulwarks which extended east and west as far as the eye could see, it was decided, as the season was growing late, to turn the ship’s head to the north. Although the ​sun set bright and clear at fifteen minutes past ten, everything about looked dark, dreary, and cheerless. It was bitterly cold, — a cold which, at this extremity of the earth, seemed almost to freeze the words spoken before they could reach the ear. As we worked our passage through the field and drift ice, huge floes, and lofty icebergs, the wild sea-birds, which were very plenty, and the inhabitants of the briny deep flocked about us and viewed us with their small, round eyes in wonder and astonishment. After much suffering and many narrow escapes, we returned to Orange Harbor, Terra del Fuego. I shall give a fuller account of this frozen region in my description of our second Antarctic cruise, which we made from New Holland in the year 1840. We had no sooner come to anchor than we were visited by the natives. They are great mimics and are very fond of music. Our fifer played for them "My Bonny Lad," "Sweet Home," and "The Girl I Left Behind Me." They did not understand these songs, but when he struck up "The Bonnets of Blue" they were all immediately in motion, keeping time to the music. They were entirely naked, except the small piece of sealskin which they wore over the weather shoulder. The only word they spoke was "Yammurscunar." They appeared to be very fond of their children. Nothing would induce the women to come on board. They sat in their canoes with their feet under them, tending the fire which may always be seen in the bottom of the canoes on a pile of stones and ashes, surrounded by water. How they manage to make a fire, I cannot imagine, unless it is by rubbing two dry sticks together. Drake tells us that they live in and paddle ​the same canoes to-day that they did two hundred years ago. These vessels are made of bark sewed together with shreds of sealskin. They are very frail and require constant bailing. I have read in The Missionary Herald that since our visit the Fuegians have become civilized, and that many of them have been converted to the Christian religion; and now they live in houses, sit at the table, and eat with knives and forks.
Directly overhead are the celebrated Magellan Clouds, three in number, two large and one smaller. They are of a dusky, leaden gray color, and look like three burnt holes in the sky. They are separate from each other, though close together, but when they become one, look out for squalls and take in all your canvas. We took our final leave of these dreary regions on the 20th. The land had but just disappeared from our view, when we were struck by a terrible gale, in which probably the Sea Gull was foundered, and twenty as noble lads as ever trod a ship’s deck found a watery grave. The Sea Gull was never seen or heard of afterwards. The next day we passed the island of Diego Ramieres.
"Sail, ho!" cried the lookout from aloft.
"Where away?" sang out the officer of the deck.
"Right ahead," was the response.
In a short time a vessel was seen from the deck. She looked like a very large ship, broadside on, with her foretop-gallant-mast gone. The captain sent below for his speaking-trumpet to hail her, but by the time it arrived the stranger had vanished from sight. This is an illusion very common in these latitudes. It is called by the sailors the "Flying Dutchman." This day might ​be called a nautical show-day, for we had not only seen the crew of the "Flying Dutchman" walking her deck, but had been favored with mock suns and a mirage. The upper is the true sun, while the left-hand and right-hand appearances are the mock suns; but all these were equally bright, and it was hard to tell which was the true one. These illusions continued for nearly half an hour. Mock suns, mock moons, halos, circles and half-circles,
MOCK SUNS.
zodiacal lights, the mirage, shooting stars, solar eclipses, gorgeous rainbows, the aurora australis, and other rare and beautiful appearances are often to be seen in these latitudes, and some of them are considered by the ignorant and superstitious natives the forerunners of war, famine, or pestilence.
Some little time after we had a mirage of the ship or a reflection of the Peacock presented to us. There were three images of the ship in the air, one inverted, the ​other two right side up, while a fourth, in the horizon, showed nothing but the hull and the stumps of the lower mast, as in the sketch. On board the Peacock, at the same time, they had three reflections of our ship. Science tells us that these reflections are caused by concave surfaces of the atmosphere when it consists of warmer and colder strata. The ship Relief came through the Straits of Magellan and surveyed them. In doing so she came near being wrecked off Nor Island, at which place she lost all her anchors.
MIRAGE.—THE PEACOCK.
On the 12th of May, at daylight, we made the coast ​of Chili. It was a sublime sight at sunrise to view the lofty peaks of the Andes Mountains, not more than sixty miles distant. The highest peak is Tupongati, 23 200 feet high, which is at times an active volcano. They are unlike any mountains I ever saw. They do not rise gradually from the base, but shoot right up out of the earth. The fact is, you can stand with one foot on the
MIRAGE.—THE VINCENNES.
level plain, the other on the side of the mountain. On the 14th we sighted the Point of Angels, and before sundown we dropped anchor in the harbor of Valparaiso, or "Valley of Paradise," as the name implies. The letter-bag was soon brought on board, and its contents emptied on the quarter-deck All the officers received letters, but only a dog-watch of the crew, while all the rest of us were left out in the cold. Willie got his usual number, and read them to me. One of them said that Long ​Wharf had not sunk, and that Chelsea was not dead. While here all hands had liberty on shore. Of course we visited the fore, main, and mizzen tops, named after the well-known hills on the south side of the fort, where the sailors resort. The valley between the hills is the resort of the abandoned and the roughs of Chili. Valparaiso has twenty thousand inhabitants. There are many Spaniards, Dutch, French, English, and Indians, and a few Americans. The native Chilians are very patriotic. The young ladies have very black, piercing eyes, and are quite fond of music. When passing the houses, one can nearly always hear them singing. Then up will come a little Chilian girl, with her field-pike in her hand, singing, "When Callao is taken, our sea-coast will be free." The houses are mostly one story, built of sun-dried bricks. These bricks are about two feet long, and one wide, and are very rough. They look like the surface of a corn-ball. The walls are from two to six feet thick, plastered outside, and are anything but neat inside.
June 5th we bade farewell to "Paradise Lost" and stood out to sea.