# Twenty years before the mast/Chapter XVI

CHAPTER XVI.
After completing the researches and observations of this island, we got under way and stood to sea, bound to Lahaina, island of Maui, the residence of the king, who was a natural son of Kamehameha I. The wind, during the day, was light, and we made slow progress; but as evening advanced, we took a light sea-breeze from the southwest, which soon wafted us to an anchorage in Lahaina Road, abreast the king’s palace.
The next day we had a visit from the royal family. There was a great display of epaulettes, gold lace, swords, and cocked hats. The king was a portly young man, between twenty and thirty years of age, and of a commanding figure. He was very richly dressed, being nearly covered with gold lace. He was received on board by the yard being manned, our marine corps parading on the quarter-deck, presenting arms, and our ship’s band, consisting of drum and fife, playing "Hail to the Chief." He was soon conducted to different parts of the ship, accompanied by Captain Wilkes and other officers. The berth deck was lighted fore and aft, all the pots and pans, and the tinware of the messes, as well as the hoops on the kids, were burnished, and displayed in front of the mess chests, and the rooms of the ​forward officers were brilliantly illuminated. The whole display was, no doubt, very interesting to the native king and his family.
After a sumptuous dinner, which was specially prepared for the occasion, and served in the cabin, the king and his suite left the ship. As they took their departure the yards were manned, the marines presented arms, and three cheers were given the king by all hands. He acknowledged the compliment by waving his cocked hat. A few days later they again dined on board our ship, this time in the ward-room. It was said that the king liked wine and spirits, and made free use of them, but on both of these occasions he drank very sparingly. Mrs. Kekauluohi, the king’s wife, was a very portly woman, and was said to be the handsomest on that group of islands. She always looked smiling and happy.
While prospecting in the interior of this island, we came across a mound of human bones, a perfect Golgotha. It was one of their burying-places after a battle, for the place where the bones were found was known to be one of their old battle-grounds. Some of the skeletons were in a perfect state of preservation.
Lahaina was the headquarters of the missionaries, and also a great resort for our whalers to wood and water ship. There were no grog-shops in this place, and the captains knew it. For quiet on the Sabbath it would shame many a New England village. No natives were astir until meeting-time, and then they might be seen only as they passed quietly to and from church.
After surveying Maui and several other islands, we got under way and stood for Oahu, where we arrived on the ​19th of March. There we completed our repairs, and on April 5th set out for the Columbia River, northwest coast of North America. By the way, while in Oahu we heard of the dispute, between Old Mother England and Brother Jonathan, about the northwest boundary line.
For several days and nights a very bright lookout was kept for land, said by whalers to exist in this quarter, 26° north latitude. We saw nothing, however, that looked like land, though islands might once have existed there and sunk. We saw myriads of birds which are found only in the vicinity of land; among them were many small birds and quantities of villula, which gave the ocean the appearance of being covered with floating cinders.
The commodore was a great disciplinarian and always kept all hands at work when there was nothing to do. When the weather permitted he would have the quarters’ beat take charge of the quarter-deck, and would sing out through his speaking-trumpet, "Silence fore and aft, wet and sand the decks, knock out your ports, take off your muzzle-bags, withdraw your tompions and cast loose your guns." Then the captain of the gun (one of the crew) would take charge and say, "Chock your luff, stop, vent, and sponge your guns, cartridge, wad and ram home, round shot, canister or stand of grape, wad ram home, man side tackle falls, run out. Crows and hand-spikes, elevate your guns for a long shot, two points abaft the beam to the enemy, cock your locks, blow your match, watch the weather-roll, stand by, fire." Sometimes, in an undertone, Jack would add, "A couple of round ​shot, canister, stand of grape, two midshipmen and a master’s mate, wad and ram home the charge."
"Though far from our homes, yet still in our land
True Yankee enterprise will ever expand
And publish to all each side of the main
We triumphed once and can do it again. A problem, a problem, oh! hear, great and small, The true owners of the country are still on the soil, While Jonathan and John Bull are growling together
For land which by right belongs not to either. Let philosophers listen, and solve the question
Which has troubled the statesmen of each nation, By what right Big Bull claims sustenance here
While he has plenty of pasturage elsewhere."
— By one of the crew.
Early in the morning of the 28th we heard the cheerful cry of "Land-ho!" It proved to be Cape Disappointment, Columbia River, our own native land. At about nine o’clock we entered a strong tide-rip and soon after came within sight of the Columbia River. It was blowing pretty fresh, with a considerable sea on, and heavy breakers extended from Cape Disappointment to Point Adams, in one unbroken line. Nothing could exceed the grandeur of this scene when viewed from aloft. The Columbia is a thousand miles long, and has its source eight hundred feet above the level of the sea.
To view its powerful floods of light, milky water rushing down and contending with the tides of the blue water of old ocean and see the marked line of separation between the sea and the river water, and a line of breakers nearly seven miles long dashing its silvery spray high in the air, is a wild sight. All who have seen it have ​spoken of the incessant roar of the waters, representing it as one of the most awful sights that can possibly meet the eye of the sailor.
On heaving the lead we found only five, eight, and nine fathoms of water, where on the chart it was laid down twenty-eight fathoms. The two quarter boats were lowered to sound for the channel, at six bells, three o’clock; but the wind beginning to freshen and the weather to thicken, they were recalled, and we hauled off with the tide, which was running with great rapidity and soon carried us back into the blue waters of the ocean.
During the night the weather was very boisterous. The following morning it was quite foggy. We bore away for the Straits of Juan de Fuca, and at eleven o’clock the man at the mast-head cried out, "Breakers on the lee bow!" The ship was at once brought by the wind, the studding-sails taken in, and a cast of the lead taken, when we found ourselves in five fathoms of water. The fog soon lifted and we saw, not half a mile off, a high point of rocks. Had we continued on our course fifteen minutes longer the ship must have been dashed to pieces and all hands sent to Davy Jones’ locker.
This place proved to be Point Grenville, off Vancouver and Destruction Isle. This is one of the hair-breadth escapes from wreck incident to this cruise.
A canoe soon came alongside with two old Indians, who kept singing out, "Squik quak manash, squik quak manash. Nusk quall, nusk quail. Miso Wilszon Misoly, Miso Wilszon Misoly, Bosson, Bosson." Then they ​would turn one hand over the other with great rapidity. Some time after we found the meaning of the first three words to be, "Give us some tobacco"; the next was "Nisqually"; the other words meant a Mr. Wilson, a missionary from Boston. The motion of the hands was to describe a small stern-wheel boat at Nisqually, belonging to the Hudson Bay Company. After giving the Indians some tobacco we put to sea.
The morning of the 30th was still foggy. We saw a great abundance of wild geese and ducks flying in almost every direction and appearing very tame, probably having never heard the report of a gun. We captured many of them with little trouble.
During the night, which was very dark and rainy, the ship was hove to, a cast of the lead being taken every fifteen minutes. The morning of the first of May proved to be fair and beautiful. With a light sea-breeze we doubled Cape Flattery and entered the Straits of Juan de Fuca. While beating up the straits we were boarded by many canoes. At nine o’clock on the 2d we made Port Discovery. We came to anchor close in shore, in twenty fathoms of water. While surveying this place we came in contact with many of the Indians, who, in their broken language, would ask if we were Boston or King George ships. There was a great difference between the islanders of the Pacific and these Indians, both in language and appearance. They seemed to have scarcely any idea of decency or cleanliness, and seemed to be almost as low in the scale of humanity as the Terra del Fuegians.
It was indeed amusing to observe the contempt that ​our prisoner, the Fiji chief Vendovi, entertained for these Indians. He would hardly deign to look at them. While here we were plentifully supplied with venison, ducks, geese, pork, salmon, cod, flounders, herring, clams, quahaugs, mussels, long oysters, and small crabs.
Our general orders at this time were as follows:
The undersigned informs the officers and crews under his command that the duties on which they are about to enter will necessarily bring them in contact at times with the savage and treacherous inhabitants of this coast, and he therefore feels it his duty to enjoin upon them the necessity of unceasing caution and a restrictive and mild system in all their intercourse with them.
In my general order of July 13, 1839, my views are expressed fully respecting our intercourse with savages, and I expect that the injunctions therein contained will be strictly regarded.
No officer or man will be allowed to visit the shore without arms, and boat’s crews when surveying or on other duty will be furnished with such as are necessary for their protection.
Charles Wilkes,
Commanding U. S. Ex. Ex.
At daylight on the morning of the 6th we got under way and proceeded to Puget Sound. After having finished our work here, we commenced beating up the bay for Nisqually Bay. We arrived on the 11th, at eight p. m., dropping anchor close in shore in seven fathoms of water. The Flying Fish and Porpoise were also here, safely moored, and with the boats hoisted out. We were now on our native soil, and, though more than three thousand miles away from the place of our birth, could not resist the sensations kindled by the remembrance of "home, sweet, sweet home."
On May 15th surveying parties were sent out from the ​various ships. The Porpoise was to survey Hood’s Canal; the boats of the Vincennes were to survey the rivers and bays in the vicinity; a land party was sent to
FLAT-HEADED SQUAW AND CHILD.
explore the interior, and another was assigned to the Cascade Mountains.
Your humble servant was left, with others, to establish the observatory. This was done near a brook, abreast ​of the ship, and within hail of it. We built a log-cabin for a pendulum house, to take the place of the old one which was scattered to the four winds of heaven from the summit of Mauna Loa. It was soon finished, the instruments set up, and everything complete.
The Indians at this place belonged to the flat-headed tribes. When infants their heads are compressed by a sort of clamp, which gives them a wedge-shape. The females, commonly called squaws, were very scantily attired, and were very fond of ornaments. A small, dirty bone, two or three inches long, was stuck through the cartilage of the nose. All the unmarried squaws wore small brass bells suspended around the rims of the ears. Most of the women were bow-legged. The men were rather short and thick-set, with high cheek-bones, fine eyes, set wide apart, and black hair, which was worn long and flowing. The countenances of both sexes wore an expression of wildness.
On the banks of the river is dug a kind of ochre, both yellow and red, with which these Indians paint their faces. Their language was the strangest we had yet heard. Such words as klick, kluck, tsk, sustiki, and squassus, we did not understand; but saantylku and selamp both meant hot, gathering brooms, and August; skelues meant exhausted salmon, and September; skaai meant dry moon, and October; kinni-etylyutin meant house-making, and November; and kumakwala meant snow-moon, and December.
Independence Day fell on Sunday, so we celebrated on Monday. We commenced at daybreak by firing a national salute of twenty-six guns, one for each State in ​the Union, two brass howitzers having been brought on shore to the observatory for the purpose. The reports of the guns not only astonished the natives, but waked up the red-coats in the fort, who came running up to the observatory with the Indians, nearly out of breath, to inquire the cause of the racket. We pointed them to our country’s flag, which was so proudly waving in the breeze over our observatory. They looked thunderstruck, and wanted to know what we meant. We told them that it was Brother Jonathan’s birthday. They then called us a crew of crazy Americans.
At two bells, nine o’clock, all hands, including the officers, with the exception of Mr. Vanderford, our master’s mate, who remained as ship-keeper, went on shore. At the observatory the commodore formed us into a procession. The starboard watch took the lead, then came the Vincennes' band, fife and drum, then the master-at-arms with Chief Vendovi dressed in the Fiji fashion, and leading our ship’s pet, the dog Sydney, by two fathoms of marling; then the larboard watch, and finally the marines. We were all dressed in span-clean white frocks and trousers. The commodore led the procession, followed by the other officers, and we all marched off, with colors flying and music playing. In passing Fort Nisqually we gave three tremendous cheers, which were returned very faintly from the ramparts by several red-coats.
We soon arrived at a clearing near the edge of the prairie, a spot which the commodore had chosen for the Fourth of July exhibition. Here we found an ox which had been slaughtered and dressed on the preceding ​Saturday. We ran a pole through the ox from end to end, and then placed the ends of this pole upon two forked tree-trunks which had been securely planted in the earth. A trench was dug under him in which a fire was built, and a windlass arranged with which to turn him at inter-
CELEBRATION OF THE FOURTH OF JULY.
vals, while a committee detailed from the crew dredged him with flour and basted him every hour.
At ten o’clock all hands were called to "splice the mainbrace." Not a man being sick, all indulged. After this the commodore ordered the starboard watch on the right and the larboard on the left, and then he produced a foot-ball, gave it a tremendous kick which sent it high ​into the air, and sang out, "Sail in, my shipmates!" We did sail in. With others I got my shins barked from my ankles to my knees, but never got so much as a kick at the ball.
At eight bells, noon, the grog was rolled and all hands piped to dinner. When we repaired to the barbecue the Indians had gathered in large numbers, looking silently but wistfully at the novel sight before them. The ox proved to be as tender as a lamb.
In firing the salute at midday, Daniel Whitehorn, one of our quarter-gunners, ramming home a charge, had his arm dreadfully lacerated by the unexpected discharge of the gun. This accident put a momentary stop to our hilarity. His messmates took him in charge and soothed his wounds. Jack before the mast is familiar with such scenes as this. A shipmate falling from aloft, thrown from a yard, getting washed overboard in a gale, getting tied up to the rigging or his back lacerated with the cats, getting knocked down with a hand-spike by the captain or one of his mates, — witnessing such scenes it becomes his nature to weep with them that weep and to rejoice with them that rejoice.
After dinner the amusements proceeded, but not with the mirth of the morning, for the accident threw a gloom over all hands. Some ball and card playing, chatting with the Indians, and taking a cruise into the woods wound up the day. At night all hands returned on board excepting two, who had become lost in the woods. They were found three days afterward by the Indians, more dead than alive. They were nicknamed the "Babes in the Wood."
​The next day the surveying parties were sent to survey Puget Sound. The scenery from the observatory was grand. In the distance, far beyond the prairie, might be seen the snow-capped summits of Mount Hood, Mount St. Helen’s, and Mount Ranier. They are beautiful to view at sunrise and at sunset. The woods were very thick, the trees large and close. Wolves were very numerous, and also foxes. Deer and bears were common, but not so much so as the treacherous wolves. Birds of all kinds were plenty, especially wild ducks and geese, which appeared very tame. While here we saw many of the Crows, Shoshones, Apaches, and Blackfeet Indians.
The survey of Puget Sound having been completed, the observatory was broken up, the instruments taken down, packed, and sent aboard ship.
On the morning of the 17th we weighed anchor and took our departure for Point Dungeness, arriving there on the 22d. The boats were immediately sent away on surveying duty. Here another accident happened. Samuel Williams, gunner’s mate, was firing a four- pounder for the purpose of measuring base by sound, when, as he was priming from a well-filled powder-horn, a terrific explosion took place, sending him with much force to the other side of the deck. His hand, arms, and face were much burned, but no bones were broken. On coming to, he wanted to know "if the powder-horn had busted." He was soon taken below and cared for.
We had scarcely dropped our anchor ere we were surrounded by many canoes bringing salmon, codfish, venison, and bear meat for sale.
​On the 28th we got under way again and stood down the straits. When off Cape Flattery, the wind being ahead, we put into Neah Harbor. It is the first in the straits after rounding the cape, and is sheltered on the northeast by Neah Island. While surveying this harbor the ship was fairly surrounded by canoes. A vigilant watch was kept on them, and only a few Indians were allowed on board at a time.
There were two tribes, the Classet and Patouche. They brought many fine furs, seal and sea-otter skins, to trade, and were taken all aback when they found that we were not eager to make a bargain. The furs were cheap enough, but we did not want them. They offered us two or three fine fur-seal skins for a pound of tobacco, a pound of powder, or fifty leaden bullets. A bottle of New England rum would fetch half a dozen of the finest furs. This showed what sort of trade was carried on when the Boston ships traded on this coast for furs and salmon. They would keep asking, "What for so big ship? What for so many mans? and no trade for furs for a lite rumie?"
This would be a good field for a missionary, for these Indians appear to be quite ignorant of any religious notions.
On the 1st of August we witnessed a beautiful eclipse of the moon. We found the Indians very numerous in the woods, wearing nothing but old dirty blankets. The men were very short and had extremely broad faces, which were besmeared with salmon oil, soot, and red ochre. The inside of their wigwams was very filthy. The squaws of the Classet tribe were much better looking ​and more lady-like than those of other tribes. Their hair, which was jet black and very long, hung loosely about their shoulders, and most of them had fair complexions and rosy cheeks.
On the 3d a carrier arrived from Nisqually, bring-
LOSS OF THE PEACOCK.
ing news of the loss of the Peacock on the bar of the Columbia.
We soon weighed anchor and put to sea. The weather for several days had been cold and foggy. We ran down the coast in eighty and ninety fathoms of water. At daylight, on the 6th, we made Cape Disappointment, Columbia River, and soon after sunrise came up with the cape and fired several guns. Shortly after, the Flying Fish hove in sight, coming down the Columbia. About nine o’clock the Flying Fish came alongside, when Captain Hudson came on board and informed Commodore Wilkes of the total wreck of his ship, the Peacock, on the bar of the Columbia. After the ship ​struck, everything that skill and seamanship could devise was resorted to in order to save her, but all to no avail.
In leaving the ship some of the boats were turned end over end, but other boats, being near at hand, rescued their crews. The ship soon went to pieces and everything was lost. But, happily, the crew was saved.
They stated that Captain Hudson was the last man to leave the ship, and that the coolness and calmness displayed by him during the wreck had secured the admiration of all hands.
The commodore, fearing to attempt crossing the bar in his own ship, the Vincennes, two days afterward transferred his broad pennant to the brig Porpoise, and with the schooner, and boats of the Peacock, remained here to survey the Columbia River and its bar, while Captain Ringgold proceeded in the Vincennes to San Francisco with a part of the Peacock's crew on board.
So we soon squared away and stood to sea. On the 12th we approached the shore and took a look at the land about Cape Blanco. The coast everywhere presented a dreary prospect. On the 14th we made Port San Francisco and ran in. We crossed the bar in five fathoms of water, and having a fair wind proceeded up the bay and anchored off Yerba Buena, a small Spanish settlement. Several vessels were lying at anchor here, among them were two American ships and a brig. We were soon boarded by Captain Phelps of the ship Alert of Boston, who informed us of the death of the President of the United States, Wm. H. Harrison.
On the 17th we up anchor again and stood over to Sansalito, or Whaler’s Bay, not far from Captain Suter’s ​fort. Here, as at other places, land and boat expeditions were fitted out for survey and research. While surveying the Sacramento, Feather, and other rivers, it was a beautiful sight to see the elks and deer coming down from the mountains to the river to drink. The kiotes, or dog-wolves, were also very numerous. We used to build fires around the camps to keep them away; but they would come, and that in droves, and stand howling, yelling, and barking at us. It was enough to frighten a tribe of Indians. A few shots, however, from our guns and they skedaddled into the woods.
Grizzly bears were also very plenty. The little cubs were very cunning and playful as kittens. One must be careful not to hurt them, if he does he may expect a tight hug from the mother.
We penetrated up the Sacramento as far as we could in the launch. The peak of Shasta is magnificent to view from here, rising as it does to a lofty height, its steep sides emerging from the mist which envelops its base and seems to throw it off to a great distance. It is at times an active volcano.
One day we witnessed the funeral of one of the Shasta Indians. Some wood was gathered, a fire built, and the dead body laid thereon. Then the Indians, dressed in blankets, with their faces painted, and their long, jet- black hair streaming in the air, danced, sang, wailed, and made all kinds of hideous noises, and waved their blankets in the air, in order to drive away all evil spirits. They believe that when the body is entirely burned up, and the heart consumed, that the spirit has flown to the far-off hunting ground, there to enjoy everlasting peace.
​Our botanist, Dr. Pickering, while digging up a rare plant, felt something brush against him behind. Turning around he saw, sitting on his hind legs watching him, a large grizzly bear; feeling a peculiar sensation coming over him, he pretended not to notice his bearship, who still sat there watching his every movement. Finally, the bear’s patience gave out, and he walked leisurely off, to the great relief of the doctor.
Having finished our work up here, we returned to the ship, where we found the brig Porpoise, schooner Flying Fish, and the brig Oregon, late the Thomas Perkins. She was purchased by Commodore Wilkes, at Columbia River, for the purpose of carrying home the officers and crew of the Peacock. While here, we lived on bear meat, wild game, fresh fish, and a thin cake made of coarse Indian meal, baked on a piece of sheet iron. Vegetables were scarce, the Spaniards being as lazy as the Indians, and neither troubled themselves about raising any.
Some of these Spanish families were very large, fifteen to twenty odd. Did it ever enter your mind how nice it would be to have twenty sisters, or ten sisters and ten brothers? They learn to ride as early as the Sandwich Islanders learn to swim. Large numbers die from falls from the horses. They are generally robust, and left to take care of themselves, and run about naked and dirty.
Both sexes were equally fond of gambling, horse- racing, cock-fighting, bull and bear baiting, and dancing, which almost always ended in a row, especially at their weddings.
​Before we left here, we had a circus on board. By invitation of the ward-room officer, a large number of Spanish ladies visited the ship. The quarter-deck was decorated with the flags of almost all nations. There were many dances danced, among which were the Spanish fandango, the love, courtship, marriage, and bull-bait dances, all of which were most gracefully executed. Both ladies and gentlemen seemed to enjoy the dances; also the wine, which was flowing about pretty freely. The music from the guitars was so inspiring that we on the forecastle put in several fore-and-afters, all-fours, break-downs, and sailors’ hornpipes. Late at night, both men and women retired to the shore, with a good freight of wine on board.
All the surveying parties having returned, the observatory was taken down, and all the instruments carried on board ship, the boats were hoisted in, and everything was stowed snugly away.
On the 1st of November signals were made to get under way, when we weighed anchor and stood out of the harbor, with the two brigs and the schooner. At sundown, the wind dying away and a strong tide setting against us, and the weather becoming foggy, we came to anchor in seven fathoms of water. Signal was made to the other vessels, which were a mile ahead of us, to anchor. It was calm at the time, and the bay was as smooth as a mill-pond, while not a breath of air was stirring. At four bells, ten o’clock, all hands turned in except the first part of the starboard watch. About eleven o’clock, the sea swell suddenly set in, and all hands were called on deck. By midnight the swell had ​so increased as to cause apprehensions of great danger. By three o’clock the old ship might be said to be riding in breakers of gigantic size. The estimated height of these breakers was over thirty odd feet. At eight bells, four o’clock, one of these huge breakers struck the ship broad on the larboard bow with such force as to sweep
THE VINCENNES ON THE BAR.
the spar deck fore and aft. The boats and booms were broken adrift, the boats stove in, and the spars and every other movable thing were washed from one side of the deck to the other.
One of the marines, Joseph Allshouse, was struck by a spar, and died in a few hours. By eight o’clock the swell abated and the rollers ceased to break. A light breeze sprung up, when we got under way and stood for the Bay of Monterey. At two o’clock all hands were called to bury the dead. The body was carried to the ​lee gangway, wrapped in an American flag, while the bier was a rough plank. The funeral services were conducted by Captain Hudson. A deathlike stillness pervaded the ship. At the words, "We commit his body to the deep," a plunge was heard, and a momentary melancholy seemed to impress the minds of all hands. Three volleys were fired over the lonely ocean grave, and the boatswain’s call announced that all was over. The yards were braced, and we kept on our course.
EATING POE.
Early the next morning we made Monterey Bay. The Porpoise was sent in with the letter-bag and we then directed our course for the Sandwich Islands. On the 18th we came to anchor in the harbor of Honolulu. While here, we had one day’s liberty on shore. The natives were highly delighted at our return. While on shore the boys, Kinney, Roberts, and myself, took a cruise out to the "Punch Bowl," where we dined with one of the chiefs and his family. The dinner consisted of half-cooked fish and poe. The latter was made from ​the taro, a vegetable root, ground into a sort of paste. They ate it by thrusting their fingers into the calabash containing it and carrying quite a quantity to the mouth. When the paste was as thick as baker’s sugar molasses they used but one finger. Then it was miti rud (very good). When thin they used four fingers. Then it was oura miti (very bad).
Baked dogs, rats, and mice were once considered dainty dishes by the natives, but of late years they have not been regarded as luxuries.
Yankee Jim, Johnny Smith, and other sailors’ boarding-house keepers, and land-sharks and land-lubbers were fairly overjoyed at our return, and received us with open arms. We had not forgotten their tokens of kindness on a previous visit, when we were their guests for two weeks, and nearly every man before the mast with a hundred dollars in his locker. A week had not elapsed before our pretended friends, the land-sharks, had stripped us of nearly every dollar, and all that we had received in return was some scanty meals and oceans of grog.
"Come ye, all my jolly sailors bold, We’ll never have it said
That the Yankee tars exploring go
Were ever yet afraid."
Well, we just did drink, dance, and sing. After a dance it was "All hands splice the mainbrace." Maybe eighteen or twenty would drink, when two hundred drinks would be charged to us.
The commodore had his weather eye open, and had foreseen all this, and had caused notices to be issued forbidding any one to trust any of the crews, as he should not pay any debts of their contracting on any account whatever.
After having a jolly time, if you can call it a jolly time, and our liberty being up, we returned on board our respective ships, every — man — sober. Soon these soulless landlords and rumsellers presented their bills to the commodore, amounting to nearly two thousand dollars. He asked them if they had not seen the notices. They acknowledged that they had, but made complaints against the measure, and demanded the payment of these bills. The commodore listened to their arguments very attentively, and they inferred that they had softened him somewhat in his resolution, in which, however, they were mistaken, for he told them that he pitied them, and was very sorry, and that his sorrow was still greater that the bills did not amount to fifty thousand dollars instead of two thousand, for in any case he would not allow one cent of it to be paid; so the bills were squared by the foretop-sails, as Jack before the mast has it.
Having completed our surveys and researches in this ​group of islands, on the afternoon of the 27th of November we bade farewell to our kind friends in Honolulu, and, the squadron in company, took our final leave of the Hawaiian Islands, and set sail for the East Indies.
HAWAIIAN IDOL.
The Vincennes was a rapid sailor, and we had a good,stiff breeze right abeam, and she was given all the sail that she could possibly carry, and our gallant ship reeled off thirteen knots an hour,and we were reminded that at the end of each hour we were thirteen knots nearer our homes. Bright lookout was kept for land, as islands had been reported as having been seen in this locality, but we saw none.
On the 7th of December we dropped a day, having passed into east longitude; the day beautifully clear. In some parts of the ocean we have sailed in, the sea has been of a dark, or light green, blue, or olive color, and in some places as clear as the raindrops. Here it was so transparent that our pot, which was a large, old-fashioned, three-legged, iron one, painted white, when lowered into the water, bottom upwards, was seen at thirty-two fathoms (one hundred and ninety feet) deep.
On the 19th we made Wakes Island, which is of coral formation, eight feet above the sea, with a large lagoon, which was well filled with fish. Here we found the short-tailed albatross. After surveying this, Gugan, and Assumption Islands, we stood on our course.
​On the 8th of January we made the islands of Sabtang and Batan. The wind being ahead we beat through the Balintang Straits. We had now left the North Pacific and entered the Sooloo Sea.
At daylight on the 13th we dropped anchor in the Bay of Manilla, island of Luzon, one of the Philippine Islands. These islands are of a volcanic nature, and no portion of the globe is so much the seat of internal fires; though none were in action while we were there, some of them were smoking. They were discovered by Magellan in 1521, and are subject to the Spanish government. The city is fortified with walls and ditches, as in all Spanish ports. The streets were narrow and dirty. The houses were two stories high, built of stone, and were either yellow or whitewashed. Outside of the city they were built of bamboo, and elevated on posts to prevent the entrance of the numerous reptiles, centipedes, and lizards.
While taking a cruise up one of the main streets we saw the cooks in movable kitchens, frying cakes, making bird’s-nest puddings, stewing, etc. It amused us to see them at work in the streets. Chinese tinkers, blacksmiths, bakers, cabinet-makers, shoe and slipper makers, tailors, hawkers of opium and cakes of coagulated blood and betel nut, were numerous. The betel nut was chewed with the pepper-leaf by the natives of the East Indies. It stained their teeth to a cherry red.
The majority of the population was Chinese. There were also many Malays, and a few Spaniards, Europeans, and negroes. All wore loose dresses and slippers. Those who could afford it carried Chinese umbrellas, very ​gorgeously painted, to screen themselves from the burning sun. The women were very fond of bathing; likewise of shopping — a favorite amusement, I find, with the fair sex the world over.
While on an expedition with the botanists into the country we met many buffaloes. The natives yoked them together, as our farmers do oxen. They were the beasts of burden. The ladies also rode horseback upon them, with saddles cut out of solid wood. We saw buffaloes near the edge of the lakes, floundering about in the mire, with only their eyes and noses out of water. Their flesh is as tough as sole leather, and as tasteless.
In and about the lakes and ponds we saw many birds feeding; herons, gulls, pelicans with their huge bills, the diver with its long, arched neck, snow-white cranes, flocks of ducks, eagles, and many other beautifully feathered and rare birds.
As for monkeys, I might say some of the woods were full of them. It was indeed amusing to see them, not in a cage in a menagerie, but in their homes in the woods, cutting up all kinds of monkey-shines. They go in troops of from sixty to eighty, chasing each other, and sometimes leaping a distance of fifteen to twenty feet, from the limb of one tree to another, and such a snarling, squealing set we never fell in with before. Some of them had very broad noses, long tails, and were as black and glossy as could be. To see them swing from the limb of a tree, by the end of their tails, was truly laughable. We also started many flocks of beautiful green parrots and paroquets, and came across many hot springs.
​Rice is the principal food of the inhabitants of these islands. There are several different varieties, — the bontot-cabayo, birnambang, dumali, quinanda, bolohan, and malagequil — the latter is very much prized. All their dainty and fancy dishes were made from it. A brilliant whitewash, very durable, and capable of standing the weather, was also made from it.
All the tropical fruits grow here, — pine-apples, the best I have seen in any part of the world. The Brazilian, Porto Rico, and Bahama pine-apples were not to be compared to the Philippines. They grow very large, some of them weighing twenty pounds or more. They are the fruit of fruits, and the most delicious in the world. The meaning of pine-apple is, "You are perfect."
The largest building — that is, the longest — that we saw while there, was the Royal Cigar Manufactory, in which fifteen thousand persons were employed, eleven thousand of whom were women. A boat’s crew of us were passing by the factory one noon when the employees were coming out for dinner. We had never seen so many women together at once; many of them were short and stout. Their average height was about five feet. They were clothed in loose jackets and petticoats made from gaudy colored grass cloth. They wore no stockings, and their feet were covered by slippers often very pretty in shape and color. Many of them had beautiful large teeth, stained red by chewing the betel nut. All had glossy black hair. We did not see a red-headed girl among them. Many were extremely pretty, if not handsome. The majority of them, however, were very homely.
​Among the shipping which we saw lying in the roads were two American vessels, loading with hemp.
On the morning of the 21st of January we got under way and made sail for the Straits of Mindoro.
On the 6th of February we made and surveyed the Pangootaaraang group, consisting of five small islands.
Early in the morning of the 8th we made the Mangsee Islands. Here, as on many of the islands of the Sooloo Seas, lived crews of freebooters and blood-thirsty Malay pirates, more ready and willing to cut our throats and pick our pockets than to trade. Though not cannibals, they delighted in shedding blood, and were fully as barbarous and treacherous as the Fiji cannibals. Our Sooloo pilot advised us when we landed not to penetrate into the woods.
Here, as on all the islands, we saw many beautiful birds. We found one kind we had not seen on any other island. It was about half as large as a peacock, but clothed in richer colored feathers.
Monkeys could be seen in great numbers. Here we found what was called the "sad-faced" monkey. It was very quiet and slow-motioned, and had a very broad and melancholy face.
While pulling along these shores, we looked over the gunwales of our boats into some of the most beautiful coral flower gardens that are to be found in the world.
The food of the natives was hogs, ground-rats, snails, monkeys, snakes, etc.
While surveying in the boats we fired muskets, in order to measure base. The Malays mistook us for some shipwrecked crew, and thought our guns were signals of ​distress. They came down upon us in several of their prows at full speed, and armed with their cuirasses and spears. Our boats at once closed together. The pirates came alongside of us, but, having no fire-arms, and seeing that we were numerous and well armed, they sneakingly hauled off again, and had the impudence to hoist a white flag in token of peace. Their retreat was hastened by a shot from our ship, which had just rounded a point a mile to windward, and thus signaled for our return. I never have seen such a bloodthirsty set of thieves and pirates as were these Malays.
On the 18th, at midnight, we made Pulo Aor and Pulo Pedaang. We came to until daylight, when we found ourselves close alongside a large Chinese junk. After breakfast we weighed anchor, but, the wind being light, we did not reach Singapore Roads until the next day, when, in the afternoon, we came to anchor opposite the town. Here we found the flags of all nations fluttering in the breeze, from the mizzen peak of the stately Indiaman, and the bamboo yards of the huge Chinese junk. Many of these flags some of us now beheld for the first time.
Among the shipping found here, we saw American, English, French, Russian, Spanish, Turkish, Greek, and Siamese vessels, Dutch galiots, built out of teak, Baltimore clippers, long, low, rakish brigs and schooners, opium smugglers, Chinese junks with a large eye on each bow so that they might see the Malay prows, prahus, bumboats, and numerous odd-looking boats, called sampans.
Our ship was soon surrounded by a fleet of bumboats ​and sampans. On these were washerwomen, many of whom were young and pretty, and venders of all conceivable goods; soft-tack, fresh eggs of different sizes, a reddish-colored milk, chickens, cockerells, and ducks, both cooked and alive, various kinds of pies, cakes, and puddings, carved fowl, and fish, fruits and vegetables, mats, shells, birds of paradise, pigeons, various parrots, cockatoos, monkeys, singing and talking birds, beautiful specimens of corals, and many other curiosities too numerous to mention. All the venders pleaded piteously for us to buy, declaring that everything was very cheap.
We were homeward bound, so our stay here was short, yet in rowing the officers up to town we had a chance to see the sights of the place. On either side of the river we saw the floating homes of the Chinese, called sampans. They were covered with women and children. The children were all naked, frolicking in the water, and apparently happy as ducks. But what took the wind out of our sails was to see guards of swarthy, brown sepoys, dressed up as English soldiers, in close-bodied, red coats, while the thermometer stood at nearly one hundred. Besides Europeans, we saw many Hindus, Dutch, Chinese, Jews, Malays, Parsees, Armenians, and Buddhists. There was a jargon of languages, but all seemed to understand one another.
Most of the trades were carried on in the streets. Here we found umbrellas and fans for sale, coffin-makers, and money changers whose smaller coins were pieces of melted silver, several copper coins tied on a string, a peculiar kind of fish scales, and small cowry shells. ​There were also Chinese barbers who pulled teeth, bled, cupped, and leeched most unmercifully.
Our scientific gentlemen were advised not to visit the woods in search of specimens, as they would be liable to be attacked by tigers.
The pine-apples here were delicious. They were not in the least acid, and did not turn the knife black when cut.
On the morning of the 26th, everything being in readiness, we took advantage of the land breeze and got under way. We passed our Daughter of the Squadron (the Flying Fish), which had been sold, the commodore fearing to trust her around the stormy Cape of Good Hope. She had been our companion in many toils and dangers. As we passed her with a strange commander and crew on board, and a foreign flag at her mast-head floating to the balmy breeze, every bosom was filled with sadness.
The Sea Gull had foundered off the coast of Terra del Fuego, the Relief had been sent home from New Holland, the Peacock had been wrecked at the mouth of the Columbia River, so the Vincennes and Porpoise were all that remained of the squadron which were to return to the United States.
"But who cares? who cares? We are homeward bound, we are homeward bound, And only fifteen thousand miles away! But who cares? who cares? We are homeward bound, we are homeward bound."
All was life and gayety on board, and bright visions of home were before us. The weather was fine, the wind fair, and our gallant ship had all the sail on her that she could possibly carry. She made thirteen and a half knots per hour for five days in succession. We did not raise, tack, or sheet, or take a pull at the brace, only the "mainbrace," and that we "spliced."
March 2. This morning our old shipmate, George Porter, the man who came very near being hung while we were off the Carney Islands, breathed his last. He belonged in Bangor, Maine, and how eagerly he looked forward to going home and seeing all the loved ones there! Poor George! He was a jolly good fellow, an excellent sailor, and a worthy shipmate. It made us feel very sad to commit his body to the depths of the hungry, restless ocean, there to lie until the sea is summoned to give up its dead.
The weather continued fine and the breezes light until the 20th, when we encountered bad weather, with a very rough, chopped sea, which caused the ship to pitch deeply.
On the 23d Benjamin Vanderford, our trading master and South Sea pilot, died. He had formerly commanded several South Sea trading vessels from Salem. He could converse in the Fiji language, and was well versed in their manners and customs. A strong ​attachment had sprung up between him and our Fiji chief, Vendovi, whom he was to take in charge on our arrival in the United States. Nothing could induce poor Vendovi to look at the corpse of his friend. His spirits left him. He had been failing for some time, and sailors’ rations did not agree with him. He had lost his best friend, and no doubt felt it keenly. Mr. Vanderford’s body was committed to the deep with the usual service and honors.
For several days we had delightful weather and strong trades, enabling us to make two hundred and fifty miles a day nearer our homes.
On the 30th we overtook and spoke the ship Clarendon of Boston, from Canton, bound for New York.
On April 14th we came to anchor in Table Bay, Cape of Good Hope. The Cape was discovered by the Portuguese navigator, Bartholomew Diaz, in 1486, and named by him the "Cape of Storms." When, on his return to Portugal, he made known his discovery, King Henry gave it another name.
"Dread roared the blast, the wave; O’er the torn heavens, loud on their awestruck ear, Great nature seemed to call, ‘Approach not here!’ At Lisbon’s court they told their dread escape, And, from her raging tempest, named the cape. ‘Thou southmost point,’ the joyful king exclaimed, ‘Cape of Good Hope be thou forever named.’"
Cape of Good Hope is always hailed by the home-bound sailor with as much delight as Cape Horn is with fear. Here we found much shipping lying quietly at anchor. The view of Cape Town from the ship’s deck ​is indeed novel. On either side of Table Mountain are seen the crags of Lion’s Head and Devil’s Peak. The broad, flat top of Table Mountain is always overhung by a great cloud, and when the cloud spreads out and covers the whole town with its broad shadows, it is then termed by Jack before the mast "the devil’s tablecloth."
To the south, on the hill, stands the world-renowned observatory, where Sir John Herschell discovered the planet which once bore his name, but is now called Uranus.
Cape Town is an old Dutch settlement, and everything wore a Dutch look. Almost all the people we met were Dutch. Both men and women were short and stout, with full, rosy cheeks. They all dressed in the old Dutch fashion.
While taking a cruise with the botanists in the outskirts of the town, we fell in with some of the Caffirs, Bushmen, Hottentots, and other tribes of South Africa.
On the 17th we got under way, and took our departure from the Cape of Storms, shaping our course for the island of St. Helena.
On the morning of the 19th Joseph Sylva, a Portuguese boy, who had shipped at Oahu, died. In the afternoon his body, with two roundshot, was sewed up in his hammock, and committed to the deep. Brave little Joe is now sleeping beneath the blue waters with others of the ocean’s heroes.
After a run of thirteen days, we came to anchor in the roadstead of the Valley of Jamestown, island of St. Helena. Here we found six American and two ​English ships, one from Sweden, and a Dutch sloop-of- war, at anchor. The island of St. Helena is nothing but a large, barren rock, uprisen from the sea, and so steep that only a short distance from the shores soundings cannot be obtained with a deep-sea line. The only landing place was Jamestown. The population, at this time, including the garrison, some English gentlemen, negroes, a few Chinese, and many quadroons, numbered about four thousand, and all lived in the Valley of Jamestown. Meats, vegetables, and fruits we found very scarce and extremely dear. Rum, however, was plenty, and quite cheap. It was not made here, but was sent out from New England, America!
St. Helena is celebrated only because of its being the place of Napoleon Bonaparte’s confinement and death.
The following verses about Napoleon I learned when before the mast:
"Come all ye nations, both far and near, And listen to my song and story, For by these few lines you soon shall hear
How man’s deprived of fame and glory.
"Ambition will have its flight, Fortune is often backward twirled, Old Boney could not be content
Till he was master of the world.
"Oh! Wellington, he took the field, And brought those British boys to Buffon, When old Boney he was forced to yield, And go on board the Bellerophon."
One afternoon a boat’s crew of us ascended Ladder Hill, and visited Longwood, the late residence of ​Napoleon. A short time previous to our arrival, by the consent of the British Government, the Bellerophon, the same ship that had borne Napoleon here as an exile, carried his remains back to his native land. Some cedars and weeping willows were growing around the tomb, which was built of English cement. It had partly caved in, and pieces of it were lying about. I have a piece of it in my possession to-day. In the room in which the emperor died was a Yankee threshing -machine. The ceiling and walls were covered with cobwebs, and the floor strewn with chaff and straw.
Among the many yarns that I have heard spun in the ship’s forecastle is one about Napoleon’s attempted escape from St. Helena. It is said that a Baltimore clipper was watering ship at the island. Large casks were used for the purpose of holding the water, and these had been taken ashore by the crew, filled, and returned to the landing, ready to be taken on board ship. They were, in fact, being rolled over the drawbridge and past the guard house, when a guard noticed that one of the hogsheads appeared very light. He ordered the hoop at one end to be knocked off and the head taken out, when, lo and behold, there was Napoleon!
On the 2d of June, late in the afternoon, we heard the shrill pipe of the boatswain and his mate calling all hands, "Up anchor for the United States!" Home, sweet, sweet home! There is no sweeter word that greets the sailor’s ear, let his home be in England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France, Russia, or in the land of the Stars and Stripes. Yes, when homeward bound ​after a long cruise, even the bosom of Jack before the mast heaves with joyous emotion. But some of our shipmates who left home with us four years ago are not with us to-day. Some sleep in old Ocean’s sepulcher, among other treasures of the deep, and some in coral graves. The Sea Gull's crew, who were bound together in ties of friendship and love, had not been separated in the hour of death, but had sunk together to rise no more until the sea is summoned to give up its dead. May they rest in peace!
There was not a man on the sick-list, and the faces of all hands seemed to wear the glow of some bright vision of happiness. The weather was fine, the wind fair, and, with studding sails set on either side, — below and aloft, — our good ship, like a thing of life, bounded onward, as eager to reach home as were her jolly crew. Everything was lovely, and nothing transpired to mar our happiness as we passed through the tropics.
On the 16th crossed the equator. One very warm and pleasant night, in the mid-watch, seeing three of our quarter growlers (old sailors) taking a siesta on deck, and enjoying our big dog, Sydney, as a pillow, I hunted up a bone and placed it about a foot from the dog’s nose. As soon as Sydney got a smell of the bone he suddenly sprang up, and the sleepers’ heads came down on deck with a thump. Such a growling! Why, they were like three old bears with sore heads, and if they had known who the culprit was, I verily believe they would have thrown him overboard.
On the 28th we crossed the Tropic of Cancer and sailed through what might be called a sea of sun-fish, ​for the surface of the ocean seemed to be covered with them.
On the 29th we passed floating fields of gulf-weed, some of them a mile in length. Our prisoner, the Fiji chief Vendovi, was failing rapidly in health. He had been very despondent since the death of Mr. Vanderford. All hands were busily engaged building "castles in the air," imagining what they would do when they got paid off. As regards your humble servant, he had fully made up his mind not to ship again in the navy. This was my sixth year, and I had had enough of the navy during that time to last me a lifetime. I had seen as good men as ever trod a ship’s deck, lashed to the rigging — made spread eagles of — and flogged. Truly, "feeble man, clothed with a little brief authority, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven as to make the very angels weep."
Fifty years have passed, and how little reform has been made in the treatment of sailors! It is true Jack’s grog has been stopped, and flogging has been legally abolished. Still, in this nineteenth century, the sailor is most tyrannically abused, as can be seen by reading the reports in the daily papers. For instance, a naval officer — one high in authority — is court-martialed, and found guilty of abusing and threatening the lives of some of his men. The officer is sentenced to be put on the retired list for a year. This punishment in reality means a twelve months’ picnic on full pay. A merchant captain — a very small specimen of a man — knocks down one of his sailors with a handspike, and lashes another to the rigging and flogs him. When the ship arrives in ​Boston, the two victims cause the captain to be arrested. The captain is tried and sentenced by the learned judge to a fine of five hundred dollars — two hundred and fifty for each of the sailors. Would His Honor consent to be struck with a handspike or lashed to the rigging and flogged for two hundred and fifty dollars? I cannot help saying, "My God! is this our civilization?"
On the 2d of June we made the outer edge of the Gulf Stream. Here we experienced a change of weather. It is common for sailors to declare that they never saw it blow so hard, or that it is the worst gale they ever experienced. All hands acknowledged now with truth that they had never seen it blow with greater violence. The rain came down in torrents; the thunder and lightning were terrific. It was a regular old-fashioned Gulf gale, and there was scarcely a moment during the twelve hours it lasted that we did not witness the lightning’s red glare in some quarter of the heavens.
On the morning of the 9th, it being foggy, we took a cast of the lead and obtained soundings at eighty fathoms. This showed that we were nearing the coast, and our thoughts turned at once to the dear ones at home. Shortly after discharging a gun, a pilot boat hove in sight; and soon a pilot came on board and took charge of the ship.
On the morning of the 10th we made the Highlands of Nevisink, at the mouth of New York harbor. After lying at quarantine a short time to receive the health officers, we held on our course toward the city of New York. Arriving off the Battery, all hands were called to muster, while the commodore expressed to us his thanks ​for the manner in which we had conducted ourselves during the cruise, and stated the confident belief that we should receive from the Government such reward as the successful result of the cruise and our long and perilous services entitled us to. A national salute of twenty- six guns was fired, and the broad pennant of Commodore Charles Wilkes was hauled down. The commodore then left the ship and proceeded to Washington. In the absence of the commodore, Captain William L. Hudson took command, and proceeded with the vessel to the Navy Yard at Brooklyn. As soon as our gallant ship — our home for four long years — was safely moored, a steamboat came alongside and took all hands with bags and hammocks on board. We soon landed, and were again free men in the land of freedom; and a jollier set of tars it would be difficult to conceive of. To be relieved from four years of confinement and from the severe discipline of a man-of-war was bliss indeed.
A Sailor’s Ditty.
"Huzza, my boys! The ship Vincennes
Comes proudly o’er the wave; Bold Captain Wilkes in her command, Two hundred seamen brave. With joyful hearts and hopes all bright, These Yankee sailors come, And glorious, full, meridian light
Shines on their passage home.
"These are my sons," bright Freedom cries, "From the Antarctic seas." And proudly from our mizzen flies
The stars of Liberty.
"These are the tars that dared explore
The new Antarctic world, And nobly on that frozen shore
Columbia’s flag unfurled.
"The Fiji group they have surveyed
With well-instructed hearts; And all those islands, reefs, and bays, See pictured on their charts." She paused; and lo! from Freedom’s eye
There fell a crystal tear. "Two sons I’ve lost," the goddess cried;
"Two sons I loved most dear."
"Nay, Freedom, quiet each mournful sigh;
Those crystal drops restrain; The sequel shall relight thine eye
With pleasure’s beam again. We are the men our chieftain led
O’er dark Malolo’s plain; Before us hosts of Indians fled, And left two hundred slain.
"We are the men that burned their town,
Well fortified and new; Destroyed their cattle, fruits cut down,
Because thy sons they slew. On hands and knees that murd’rous host
Did crawl our chief to meet —
They owned ’twas retribution just —
Begged pardon at his feet.
"To Mauna Loa’s fiery top
These daring tars have scaled; And there, o’er all the science group, Our captain has surveyed.
Let England boast her Cook and Ross, And other chiefs of fame; They all must on a level stand
Beside our captain’s name.
"On Fame’s broad pillar, hand in hand, Shall stand in bold relief, With all the rest of the gallant band, Columbus and our chief. Then speed thee on, our gallant ship, And homeward bear thy tars; While proudly glitters from thy peak
Columbia’s flag of stars."
— By one of the crew.