# Twenty years before the mast/Chapter VII

CHAPTER VII.
On the morning of the 26th of December all hands were called to weigh anchor, when we made sail and stood out to sea. In passing the English ship Druid, Lord John Russell commander, we were greeted with three hearty cheers, which were returned just as heartily from all our ships’ crews. After breakfast all hands were called to muster, when the commodore thanked us for our good behavior while lying in port. He then told us that we must look forward to a dangerous cruise, and said a few words as to what our country and he himself expected of us in aiding him in the endeavor to promote health and comfort, and as to the necessity of economy in our rations and clothing.
When we were piped down, we took advantage of the fine weather by sending up our stump to’-gallant-mast, bending new sails, and building little hurricane houses of rough boards over the companion-ways for the exclusion of the cold air. Drying stoves were slung between decks to make it more comfortable, and several barometers were put up in various places with orders given to keep the temperature at 60°. By the 1st of January all the decks had been cleared of all loose and useless articles, and everything snugly stowed away. ​Our battery was made doubly secure, and everything put in good order for housekeeping or rough and cold weather.
This was one of those days familiarly known on sea and land as a "weather breeder." The sea was placid, but the sky lowering, and had a wintry appearance to which we had been strangers for a long time. We had been sailing rapidly in a due south course for several days with a rising sea, and the weather had been misty.
January 5. At muster this morning three stowaways made their appearance aft at the mainmast, and surrendered themselves. They looked anything but convictlike, for they were dressed in the rig of our crew, with blue trousers, blue flannel shirts, black silk neckerchiefs, and black tarpaulin hats. The commodore was much surprised at their appearance, and informed us that we were mistaken if we expected that they would be harbored on board of his ship, and declared that if the ship was so fortunate as to weather the southern cruise, he should do his duty by sending them back to Sydney to be given over to the authorities. The stowaways were then entered on the ship’s rolls for rations only, and stationed on the afterguard.
January 6. We were favored with a view of the sun and found our latitude to be 53° south. This day we rigged up our crow’s nest at the foretop-mast-head. During the night we double reefed our topsails.
January 7. Weather misty and squally, with a heavy sea running.
January 8. The air very raw and chilly. None of the rest of the squadron in sight.
​January 9. Weather more moderate, and set to’- gallant sails.
January 10. By observation found our latitude to be 61°. This day we made the first iceberg. We sailed close to it and found it to be a mile long and one hundred and fifty feet out of the water. It was much worn by the action of the sea and by frequent storms, and resembled the ruins of some Gothic church or ancient castle. A second berg was met some thirty miles and a
THE FIRST ICEBERGS.
third some fifty miles south of the first. After these we passed many of various sizes and shapes, some inclined to the horizon, others square with flat tops.
January 11. Wind from the nor’west, with a light mist. As the icebergs increased in numbers the sea became smooth and we were often compelled to change our course to steer clear of them.
January 12. This morning entered a deep bay. At six o’clock in the afternoon we had reached its extreme limits and found that our further progress was checked ​by a compact barrier of ice, inclosing large, square icebergs. This barrier consisted of masses, closely packed, and of all varieties, shapes, and sizes. We hove to until daylight. The night was fine, and everything seemed wrapped in slumber. Ay, everything was silent but the distant swash, swash of the waters against the ice. Our latitude was 63° south. There was every appearance of land at the south. It took all day to beat out of the bay. For several days the weather had been foggy.
January 16. Peacock and Porpoise in sight. High mountains were plainly seen at the south from all the ships.
January 17. Weather fair. At twelve o’clock we were in 66° south. Many whales were playing around the ship, and some large seals and penguins were on the ice. Land in sight.
January 18. Weather variable. Occasional snow squalls and mists. Water of an olive green.
January 19. Found ourselves in a deep bay this morning. Land could be plainly seen from the ship’s deck. It bore sou’east and sou’west. It averaged from two to three thousand feet high. The mountain ridges looked dark and gray. Two volumes of smoke were seen rising from the mountains.
THE VINCENNES IN DISAPPOINTMENT BAY.
January 22. Weather foggy. This morning we found bottom with eight hundred fathoms of line. The arming was covered with slate-colored mud. In the afternoon we took a second cast of the lead and found bottom at three hundred and twenty fathoms. The bottom same as before — slate-colored mud. The Peacock, while boxing off the ship from some ice under her bows, made a stern board which brought her in contact with an iceberg with such force as to crush her stern and larboard quarter boats, and carry away her bulwarks to the gangways. While getting out the ice anchor to heave the ship off, she gave a rebound which carried away her rudder and all the stanchions to the gangway. This second shock caused the ship to cant to starboard, when both jibs were given to her just in time to carry her clear ​of the iceberg. She had not moved more than a dozen lengths before a huge mass of ice fell from the iceberg in her wake. If this had happened twenty minutes before, it would have crushed the ship to atoms. As soon as we gained the open sea, Captain Hudson very wisely put the ship’s head for Sydney, where she arrived in a shattered and sinking condition. For several days the weather had been foggy.
January 26. Hove to alongside of an iceberg, lowered a boat, and took in a supply of ice. Filled several of our tanks with it.
TABULAR ICEBERG.
January 27. Weather fair. Wind from the sou’-sou’- west. All day working the ship out of an ice-floe. A long row of tabular icebergs were in sight from the south. Latitude 64°1’ south.
January 28. Weather fair. We were now surrounded by many tabular icebergs, from half a mile to three miles in length. We had run some forty miles through them, when we made high land ahead, eighteen or twenty miles to the other side of the ice barrier. We hove the lead and found bottom at thirty fathoms. Coarse black sand covered the arming.
​At twelve o’clock the weather began to thicken, and the breeze to freshen, when we stood out of the bay.
At five o’clock all hands were called to close-reef topsails. The reef points were frozen so stiff that we could not knot them. In getting spinning-lines around the sails several of the crew were so chilled and benumbed
THE VINCENNES IN A GALE.
by the bitter cold that we had to sling them in bowlines, drag them from the yard, and lower them on deck.
At eight o’clock the ship was under her storm sails. It was bitterly cold, and every spray that touched the ship was converted into ice. At four bells all hands were called to work ship. We were in a high southern latitude, on an unknown coast, a terrific gale blowing from the south, accompanied by a blinding snow-storm, a narrow channel to navigate, and surrounded by icebergs. Such was our situation; and all that we could do was to be ​ready for any emergency, and to have all hands at their regular stations, while the good ship was being driven by the fury of the gale. Suddenly many voices cried out from the to’-gallant forecastle, "Icebergs on the weather bow!" then, "On the lee bow, and abeam!" Destruction seemed certain as we dashed on, expecting the almost inevitable crash. Return we could not, for we had just passed large bergs to leeward. The ship was kept on her course. Louder and more furious raged the gale. Now the lee guns were under water; the next instant the ship rose upright on an even keel.
At last we entered a narrow passage between two monster icebergs that were gradually closing together. Every officer and man was at his station with bated breath and blanched face; yet true to discipline there they stood like specters. We felt that we were death-doomed. One thought of the dear ones at home, a brief prayer to our God, then we nerved our hearts to meet our fate. But you know the song tells us that "there’s a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft" to keep watch over poor Jack; and on this occasion of extreme danger, Providence was indeed kind. As our gallant ship sailed onward a glimmer of hope arose, and our hearts grew lighter and lighter as we heard the whistling of the gale grow louder and louder over our heads, while we gradually emerged from the passage. The suspense we endured while making our way between those two icebergs can be better imagined than described. It was something terrible, and, as we dashed along in clear water, we felt that we had escaped an awful death, and thanked God in our hearts for our preservation.
​The mean temperature between decks was about 40°. In severe weather hot coffee was served out to the crew. We had watch and watch, but it was mostly, "All hands reef topsails," "Shorten sail," "Make sail," or "Work ship," the whole twenty-four hours. The commodore seemed to be on deck all the time, and how he managed to sleep was a mystery.
January 30. The sun rose in great brilliancy this morning, and all was quiet save a brisk breeze blowing from the eastward. All sail was set, making for a bay bearing sou’west. By noon we had reached its extreme limits. A barrier of ice one hundred and fifty feet high prevented our further progress south. Thirty or forty miles inland, behind the barrier, mountains could be seen from two to three thousand feet high; also smoke as from a volcano. Rocks were also seen several feet out of the water, with seals basking on them. This bay was named for our signal quartermaster, Piner’s Bay. It is situated in latitude 66° south, longitude 140° east. The wind had been freshening and there was too much at this time to tack, so we luffed the ship up into the wind and wore her short round on her heel. At noon the wind had increased to a gale, and by one o’clock we were reduced to storm sails, with our to’- gallant yards on deck. This, like the last gale, was an old-fashioned blinding snow-storm, and the sea we experienced short and disagreeable, but nothing to be compared with the first gale. The snow had the same steely or cutting quality as in the first gale, and seemed as if armed with icicles or needles.
January 31. No moderation of the weather. At one ​o’clock a field of ice close under our lee. Wore ship instantly and just in time to avoid coming into contact with it. After lasting nearly thirty hours the gale abated, and then we made sail.
February 2. Found ourselves sixty miles to the westward of Piner’s Bay.
February 3, 4, and 5. Foggy, chilly, and uncomfortable. Our sick list increasing rapidly.
February 6. The same thick weather. The sailors are much afflicted, here in these cold regions, with salt-water boils.
February 7. Weather much pleasanter. Sailed all day along a perpendicular, icy barrier, one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet high, with high land behind it.
February 8. Weather the same as yesterday. The night very unpleasant.
February 9. Another fair and pleasant day. At midnight we had a splendid display of the aurora australis. It extended around the northern horizon and was very brilliant, glowing with all the colors of the rainbow. This continued about half an hour.
February 10. Weather fair, with glorious sunshine. This gave us a chance to air the ship and dry our wet clothes.
February 11. Fair and pleasant.
February 12. Sailed through a great deal of floe ice. Came up with a solid barrier which prevented our further progress. Land could be seen twenty or thirty miles distant. The air was very clear and the water smooth. We landed on an iceberg; and in a valley at the foot of a knoll, by cutting through a thin skim of ice, ​we found a pond of delicious water. We were provided with leather bags for the purpose of watering the ship. We filled these with water, and, carrying them on board, filled several of our tanks. This iceberg was three miles in circumference. Imagine an iceberg three times larger than Boston Common, afloat, and drifting in the water. Such was the fact, however, and some icebergs are much larger. This one had at some time been aground, and had turned over, for we found on it heaps of stones, pebbles, gravel, and mud, where we landed. We saw several large boulders or rocks imbedded in it. What was exposed to view of one of them would probably weigh eight or ten tons. We obtained many specimens of the stones and pebbles. They were of basalt and red sandstone. These specimens from the Antarctic Continent were in great demand during the remainder of our cruise. We had a jolly time while on this iceberg, sliding, snowballing one another, and playing with the penguins and seals. As we had not got our "shore legs" on we received many a fall on the ice, which, we found, was very hard and flinty, and caused us to see a great many stars. I never saw wild sea-animals so tame and innocent-looking as these seals. Three or four of us caught hold of an old sea-horse’s tail, and he dragged us quite a distance. When we reached the edge of the berg we let go and he tumbled into the water. He soon came up again with two or three others, looked all about, and seemed much surprised at not finding us in the water with him. We captured several of these seals, called sea-lions, sea-elephants, or sea-tigers, and they form part of our collection at the Smithsonian Institute, ​at Washington, D. C. They are about ten feet long, and nearly as large round as a horse.
There were many fine fur seals in the Antarctic Ocean. It is, however, a singular fact that there are no walruses or auks seen in the Antarctic seas. On many of the icebergs were armies of penguins. They are about twenty-four inches high. Some of them are dark gray, nearly black, with orange or light-gray breasts. On each side of their heads is a bunch of bright-yellow feathers. They stand erect and appear very dignified and soldier-like. They march in companies or regiments, following after the drum-major or king-penguin, who turns around at times to take a view of his old comrades. They reminded me of a little incident which I will relate.
At the commencement of the Mexican War, as shipping was dull, and I felt very patriotic, I shipped in one of the soldiers’ companies. The following is one of the notices which I received: "You, being enrolled as a soldier in the company of volunteers to be annexed to the first regiment of light infantry, are hereby ordered to appear at the usual place of parade of said company in Fanueil Hall, on Wednesday, the 17th of June, at nine o’clock in the forenoon, as the law directs, for military duty. By order of Alonzo Coy, commanding officer of said company. Dated at Boston this 8th day of June, 1846." We were playing soldier finely, when the commanding officer ordered us to "ground arms." Instantly a great, clumsy soldier on my "larboard side" grounded his big, heavy gun right on my toes. I gave an awful shriek that frightened the whole regiment. There were no ​herdics in those days, so they sent me home in a cab. I quit the army the next day.
These birds, the penguins, keep excellent time with their file leader. It was very amusing to see them walk, they were so very awkward. If we annoyed them, they squawked furiously, flapped their wings, and showed fight. They would nip and bite so severely that even our thick clothing was poor protection from their attacks. On our return to the boat we captured several of them, the old king-penguin and a number of his followers, and, tying their legs, put them in the boat. When about halfway to the ship, they set up such a squalling and cackling that their comrades swimming about in the water would leap into our boat and sometimes completely over it, knocking our hats off, striking our heads and faces, and nipping us at every turn. They came in such numbers as to very nearly swamp our boat, and, to make the matter worse, the king and two or three others escaped, and then how they did lacerate us with their nippers! Just then, three big sea-lions came up alongside the boat and looked in. One of them boldly rested his head on the gunwale. I never saw such innocence pictured in a face as was in his. We expected that he would leap into the boat, or, by his weight on the gunwale, would swamp us, and thus give us all a chance to swim to the ship. Suddenly the old king-penguin, which we had again secured, made a desperate effort and regained his liberty, and, followed by two others, escaped from the boat. This seemed to pacify their comrades at large, and also the seals, for they all disappeared under water. A few strokes of our oars brought us alongside the ship. ​When we went below to change our clothes, we found our bodies and limbs covered with bruises. Several days afterward we captured a number of the king-penguins. One of them measured forty-eight inches from the tip of his tail to the end of his beak, and weighed thirty-two pounds. They are now in the National Museum at Washington, D. C.
In cruising among the icebergs we found many crustacca and shrimps. These are believed to be the food of the numerous whales in these seas. They are also food for the penguins and other birds.
For several days nearly all the icebergs we saw were discolored with earth. Many seals were seen on them, basking in the sun. These seals were of different kinds and ages, from the small fur and hooded varieties to the big sea-elephant. There were also many cape pigeons, white and gray, and large and small petrels.
February 16. The weather fair, and wind sou’east. To-day we discovered one of the largest sea-elephants we had ever seen. Two boats were lowered and sent to capture him. Many balls were fired at him, but he scarcely noticed them, simply raising his head and looking round. The two boats’ crews surrounded him, and then he commenced to flounder about, knocking them helter-skelter on the ice. He soon reached the water, his native element, and so escaped. There was a large pond of muddy water on this iceberg, not frozen over, though the weather was several degrees below freezing point.
February 17. To-day began with snow squalls. The snow, instead of being in flakes, was in grains, very ​hard and dry, and large as buckshot, though not at all like hail-stones. They were pure white. We were surrounded all day by a very large number of huge sperm whales, whose curiosity seemed to be greatly excited by our presence. They would come up close aboard, puffing and blowing like locomotives. They were covered with so many great barnacles that they looked like large rocks alongside the ship. When coming up to blow, the
AURORA AUSTRALIS.
little whales, or calves, were as spry and active in their native element as kittens. It was not pleasant to have them so close aboard, and it was convincing proof that they knew not the enmity of man.
This night we had a splendid display of the aurora australis. It excelled everything of the kind we had ever witnessed, and appeared like some enchanted vision. Across the whole horizon, overhead, and all around were seen flashes of light showing all the prismatic colors. At the same time, or in quick succession, it flashed in all ​directions, and streamed up and down like the lightning’s fitful glare. It would thicken at times like fog, and shut out from view the brilliant stars. Canopus and the Southern Cross were in the zenith at the time. While lying on our backs on the deck and looking up, we could command the entire magnificent view.
February 18. Wind easterly, sea smooth. During the day had several snow squalls. The snow that fell was in the form of a regular, six-pointed star.
February 19. Weather fair, sea very smooth; ship surrounded by many icebergs. Much anxiety existed among the officers lest the ship should be hemmed in by these frozen bulwarks.
February 20. This morning our hearts were made glad by feeling a slight swell of the sea with a little breeze from the sou’east. By nine p. m. we had worked the ship through many narrow passages between the icebergs into clear water, latitude 63° south, longitude 101° east.
February 21. Weather moderate with light westerly winds. At eight bells every appearance of bad weather. At two bells all hands called to muster, when the commodore thanked us for our exertions and good behavior during the trying scenes we had passed through, and congratulated us on the success that had attended us. He said that he should represent our conduct in the most favorable light to the government, and that he had no doubt that the government would grant us a suitable reward for our past services. He also informed us that he had determined to bear up and return north; so the ship’s head was pointed towards New Zealand, three thousand miles distant. After giving three cheers for ​the Antarctic Continent, all hands were called to "splice the mainbrace." Up to this time we had had only hot coffee.
January 30. On board the Porpoise. At four p. m. a ship was discovered ahead, and shortly after another, both standing to the south. The brig hauled up nor’west, intending to speak them, being sure they were the Vincennes and the Peacock. Shortly after, seeing that they were strangers, Captain Ringold hoisted his colors. It was known that the English squadron under Sir James Ross was about to visit these seas, and he was preparing to cheer the great English navigator, when the stranger showed the French colors. One of the ships displayed a broad pennant. Captain Ringold concluded that they must be the French discovery ships under Captain d’Urville. While closing with the strangers — for he desired to pass within hail under the flagship’s stern — he saw to his surprise that they were making all sail. Without a moment’s delay Captain Ringold hauled down his colors and bore upon his course before the wind.
It is with regret that I mention the above occurrence, and it can but excite the surprise of all that such a cold repulse should come from a French commander, and that the vessels of two friendly powers should meet in such an untraversed and dangerous quarter of the globe and not even exchange the common civilities of life, and should exhibit none of the kinder feelings that the situation would awaken, but refuse to allow any communication. It showed that the commander was devoid of all manly feeling and brotherly love, to commit such a breach of the courtesy due from one nation to another. ​He knew not but that the brig was in need of medical aid or had important communications to make. It was truly surprising what could prompt him to pursue such a course, for during my twenty years’ experience before the mast — and I have cruised among pretty nearly all nations — I have found the French people to be the most courteous and polite of any whom I have met.
This distinguished French navigator, Commodore Dumont d’Urville, had discovered land eleven days previous, in the evening of the 19th of February, in latitude 65° south, longitude 142° east. He said it averaged over a thousand feet high, and was entirely covered with ice and snow. He cruised along its shore to the westward about one hundred and fifty miles, where it suddenly turned to the south, and here he met our brig Porpoise. Land was then in sight. He named this land La Terre Adélie, for his wife. The next day, the 1st of February, he bore away for Hobart Town, where he arrived after an absence of forty-nine days.
The next year, 1849, Captain Sir James Ross of the British navy visited these seas. How far he was guided by the copy of our chart and log, sent him by Commodore Wilkes, and which he never acknowledged, can only be surmised. The English admiral’s ships, the Erebus and Terror, were unlike the Frenchman’s and our ships. They were so strongly built that they were forced through a thick belt of ice two hundred miles into an open sea beyond. Our ships would have been completely destroyed before they could have penetrated one-quarter of the distance. Sir James Ross left Hobart Town on the 12th of November, 1841. Entering the ​Antarctic Circle, he stood farther to the east than we did, and penetrated as high as latitude 78° south, where he discovered land. Coasting many weary miles along its frozen shores, on the 28th he discovered two mountains, the highest of which is 12,400 feet, having on its summit an active volcano, which the admiral named Mt. Erebus. The other, which is 10,000 feet high, he named Mt. Terror. These mountains are situated in latitude 76° south, longitude 168° east. Well might the discoverer of the north magnetic pole feel proud of his discoveries in these unknown and untraversed regions. The English admiral named it Victoria Land. The ceremony of taking possession was in the name of Her Most Gracious Sovereign Majesty, Queen Victoria. He made two subsequent voyages in these seas, but they did not prove as successful as the first. In 1845 Lieutenant Moore of the British navy sailed in the bark Pagoda from Cape Town on a scientific cruise to the Antarctic regions. He penetrated a little farther south than Ross, and thus completed the observations left by him, and confirmed the discovery of an Antarctic Continent by our squadron. As our discovery of some portions of the Antarctic Continent has been called in question by a few Englishmen, who have rendered a verdict not proved, it would probably be wiser for me, as I am the only known survivor of the six hundred and eighty-seven men who served in the expedition under Commodore Wilkes, to keep silent, but my American pride will not allow me to do so.
In tracing the English maps of to-day, I find no mention on many of them of our discovery of the Antarctic ​Continent. That continent is laid down as South Victoria Land, from latitude 64° to 79° south, and from longitude 162° to 97° east. This long line of coast includes not only our fifteen hundred miles of the Antarctic Continent, but also the one hundred and fifty miles of coast discovered by D’Urville, the French navigator. These lands are named Victoria Land, Mt. Erebus, Mt. Terror, Mt. Sabine, North Cape, Terre Adélie, Cotta Clara Land, and Enderby Land.
All of the above are, no doubt, detached portions of the Antarctic Continent, which were discovered from three of our vessels on the 16th of January, 1840. The land was frequently in sight in fair weather, while we cruised along its shores for fifteen hundred miles. We occasionally obtained soundings from twenty-five to eight hundred fathoms, the arming being covered in places with black sand, dead coral, clay, and gravel. Commodore Wilkes very appropriately named the land discovered the Antarctic Continent. Our discovery was also confirmed by Lieutenant Moore in 1845.