SAILING ALONE AROUND THE WORLD (complete 10+3)

[Captain Joshua Slocum]

SAILING ALONE AROUND THE WORLD
By Captain Joshua Slocum

TO THE ONE WHO SAID: "THE 'SPRAY' WILL COME BACK."

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

A blue-nose ancestry with Yankee proclivities - Youthful fondness
for the sea - Master of the ship Northern Light - Loss of the
Aquidneck - Return home from Brazil in the canoe Liberdade - The
gift of a "ship" - The rebuilding of the Spray - Conundrums in
regard to finance and calking - The launching of the Spray .

CHAPTER II

Failure as a fisherman - A voyage around the world projected - From
Boston to Gloucester - Fitting out for the ocean voyage - Half of a
dory for a ship's boat - The run from Gloucester to Nova Scotia - A
shaking up in home waters - Among old friends.

CHAPTER III

Good-by to the American coast - Off Sable Island in a fog - In the
open sea - The man in the moon takes an interest in the voyage -
The first fit of loneliness - The Spray encounters La Vaguisa - A
bottle of wine from the Spaniard - A bout of words with the captain
of the Java - The steamship Olympia spoken - Arrival at the Azores.

CHAPTER IV

Squally weather in the Azores - High living - Delirious from cheese
and plums - The pilot of the Pinta - At Gibraltar - Compliments
exchanged with the British navy - A picnic on the Morocco shore.

CHAPTER V

Sailing from Gibraltar with the assistance of her Majesty's tug -
The Spray's course changed from the Suez Canal to Cape Horn -
Chased by a Moorish pirate - A comparison with Columbus - The
Canary Islands - The Cape Verde Islands - Sea life - Arrival at
Pernambuco - A bill against the Brazilian government - Preparing
for the stormy weather of the cape.

SAILING ALONE AROUND THE WORLD

CHAPTER I

A blue-nose ancestry with Yankee proclivities - Youthful fondness
for the sea - Master of the ship Northern Light - Loss of the
Aquidneck - Return home from Brazil in the canoe Liberdade - The
gift of a "ship" - The rebuilding of the Spray -Conundrums in
regard to finance and calking - The launching of the Spray .

In the fair land of Nova Scotia, a maritime province, there is a
ridge called North Mountain, overlooking the Bay of Fundy on one
side and the fertile Annapolis valley on the other. On the northern
slope of the range grows the hardy spruce-tree, well adapted for
ship-timbers, of which many vessels of all classes have been built.
The people of this coast, hardy, robust, and strong, are disposed
to compete in the world's commerce, and it is nothing against the
master mariner if the birthplace mentioned on his certificate be
Nova Scotia. I was born in a cold spot, on coldest North Mountain,
on a cold February 20, though I am a citizen of the United States -
a naturalized Yankee, if it may be said that Nova Scotians are not
Yankees in the truest sense of the word. On both sides my family
were sailors; and if any Slocum should be found not seafaring, he
will show at least an inclination to whittle models of boats and
contemplate voyages. My father was the sort of man who, if wrecked
on a desolate island, would find his way home, if he had a jack-
knife and could find a tree. He was a good judge of a boat, but the
old clay farm which some calamity made his was an anchor to him. He
was not afraid of a capful of wind, and he never took a back seat
at a camp-meeting or a good, old-fashioned revival.

As for myself, the wonderful sea charmed me from the first. At the
age of eight I had already been afloat along with other boys on the
bay, with chances greatly in favor of being drowned. When a lad I
filled the important post of cook on a fishing-schooner; but I was
not long in the galley, for the crew mutinied at the appearance of
my first duff, and "chucked me out" before I had a chance to shine
as a culinary artist. The next step toward the goal of happiness
found me before the mast in a full-rigged ship bound on a foreign
voyage. Thus I came "over the bows," and not in through the cabin
windows, to the command of a ship.

My best command was that of the magnificent ship Northern Light ,
of which I was part-owner. I had a right to be proud of her, for at
that time - in the eighties - she was the finest American sailing-
vessel afloat. Afterward I owned and sailed the Aquidneck , a
little bark which of all man's handiwork seemed to me the nearest
to perfection of beauty, and which in speed, when the wind blew,
asked no favors of steamers, I had been nearly twenty years a
shipmaster when I quit her deck on the coast of Brazil, where she
was wrecked. My home voyage to New York with my family was made in
the canoe Liberdade , without accident.

My voyages were all foreign. I sailed as freighter and trader
principally to China, Australia, and Japan, and among the Spice
Islands. Mine was not the sort of life to make one long to coil up
one's ropes on land, the customs and ways of which I had finally
almost forgotten. And so when times for freighters got bad, as at
last they did, and I tried to quit the sea, what was there for an
old sailor to do? I was born in the breezes, and I had studied the
sea as perhaps few men have studied it, neglecting all else. Next
in attractiveness, after seafaring, came ship-building. I longed to
be master in both professions, and in a small way, in time, I
accomplished my desire. From the decks of stout ships in the worst
gales I had made calculations as to the size and sort of ship
safest for all weather and all seas. Thus the voyage which I am now
to narrate was a natural outcome not only of my love of adventure,
but of my lifelong experience.

One midwinter day of 1892, in Boston, where I had been cast up from
old ocean, so to speak, a year or two before, I was cogitating
whether I should apply for a command, and again eat my bread and
butter on the sea, or go to work at the shipyard, when I met an old
acquaintance, a whaling-captain, who said: "Come to Fairhaven and
I'll give you a ship. But," he added, "she wants some repairs." The
captain's terms, when fully explained, were more than satisfactory
to me. They included all the assistance I would require to fit the
craft for sea. I was only too glad to accept, for I had already
found that I could not obtain work in the shipyard without first
paying fifty dollars to a society, and as for a ship to command -
there were not enough ships to go round. Nearly all our tall
vessels had been cut down for coal-barges, and were being
ignominiously towed by the nose from port to port, while many
worthy captains addressed themselves to Sailors' Snug Harbor.

The next day I landed at Fairhaven, opposite New Bedford, and found
that my friend had something of a joke on me. For seven years the
joke had been on him. The "ship" proved to be a very antiquated
sloop called the Spray, which the neighbors declared had been built
in the year 1. She was affectionately propped up in a field, some
distance from salt water, and was covered with canvas. The people
of Fairhaven, I hardly need say, are thrifty and observant. For
seven years they had asked, "I wonder what Captain Eben Pierce is
going to do with the old Spray?" The day I appeared there was a
buzz at the gossip exchange: at last some one had come and was
actually at work on the old Spray. "Breaking her up, I s'pose?"
"No; going to rebuild her." Great was the amazement. "Will it pay?"
was the question which for a year or more I answered by declaring
that I would make it pay.

My ax felled a stout oak-tree near by for a keel, and Farmer
Howard, for a small sum of money, hauled in this and enough timbers
for the frame of the new vessel. I rigged a steam-box and a pot for
a boiler. The timbers for ribs, being straight saplings, were
dressed and steamed till supple, and then bent over a log, where
they were secured till set. Something tangible appeared every day
to show for my labor, and the neighbors made the work sociable. It
was a great day in the Spray shipyard when her new stem was set up
and fastened to the new keel. Whaling-captains came from far to
survey it. With one voice they pronounced it "A 1," and in their
opinion "fit to smash ice." The oldest captain shook my hand warmly
when the breast-hooks were put in, declaring that he could see no
reason why the Spray should not "cut in bow-head" yet off the coast
of Greenland. The much-esteemed stem-piece was from the butt of the
smartest kind of a pasture oak. It afterward split a coral patch in
two at the Keeling Islands, and did not receive a blemish. Better
timber for a ship than pasture white oak never grew. The breast-
hooks, as well as all the ribs, were of this wood, and were steamed
and bent into shape as required. It was hard upon March when I
began work in earnest; the weather was cold; still, there were
plenty of inspectors to back me with advice. When a whaling-captain
hove in sight I just rested on my adz awhile and "gammed" with him.

New Bedford, the home of whaling-captains, is connected with
Fairhaven by a bridge, and the walking is good. They never "worked
along up" to the shipyard too often for me. It was the charming
tales about arctic whaling that inspired me to put a double set of
breast-hooks in the Spray , that she might shunt ice.

The seasons came quickly while I worked. Hardly were the ribs of
the sloop up before apple-trees were in bloom. Then the daisies and
the cherries came soon after. Close by the place where the old
Spray had now dissolved rested the ashes of John Cook, a revered
Pilgrim father. So the new Spray rose from hallowed ground. From
the deck of the new craft I could put out my hand and pick cherries
that grew over the little grave. The planks for the new vessel,
which I soon came to put on, were of Georgia pine an inch and a
half thick. The operation of putting them on was tedious, but, when
on, the calking was easy. The outward edges stood slightly open to
receive the calking, but the inner edges were so close that I could
not see daylight between them. All the butts were fastened by
through bolts, with screw-nuts tightening them to the timbers, so
that there would be no complaint from them. Many bolts with screw-
nuts were used in other parts of the construction, in all about a
thousand. It was my purpose to make my vessel stout and strong.

Now, it is a law in Lloyd's that the Jane repaired all out of the
old until she is entirely new is still the Jane . The Spray changed
her being so gradually that it was hard to say at what point the
old died or the new took birth, and it was no matter. The bulwarks
I built up of white-oak stanchions fourteen inches high, and
covered with seven-eighth-inch white pine. These stanchions,
mortised through a two-inch covering-board, I calked with thin
cedar wedges. They have remained perfectly tight ever since. The
deck I made of one-and-a-half-inch by three-inch white pine spiked
to beams, six by six inches, of yellow or Georgia pine, placed
three feet apart. The deck-inclosures were one over the aperture of
the main hatch, six feet by six, for a cooking-galley, and a trunk
farther aft, about ten feet by twelve, for a cabin. Both of these
rose about three feet above the deck, and were sunk sufficiently
into the hold to afford head-room. In the spaces along the sides of
the cabin, under the deck, I arranged a berth to sleep in, and
shelves for small storage, not forgetting a place for the medicine-
chest. In the midship hold, that is, the space between cabin and
galley, under the deck, was room for provision of water, salt beef,
etc., ample for many months.

The hull of my vessel being now put together as strongly as wood
and iron could make her, and the various rooms partitioned off, I
set about "calking ship." Grave fears were entertained by some that
at this point I should fail. I myself gave some thought to the
advisability of a "professional calker." The very first blow I
struck on the cotton with the calking-iron, which I thought was
right, many others thought wrong. "It'll crawl!" cried a man from
Marion, passing with a basket of clams on his back. "It'll crawl!"
cried another from West Island, when he saw me driving cotton into
the seams. Bruno simply wagged his tail. Even Mr. Ben J - - , a
noted authority on whaling-ships, whose mind, however, was said to
totter, asked rather confidently if I did not think "it would
crawl." "How fast will it crawl?" cried my old captain friend, who
had been towed by many a lively sperm-whale. "Tell us how fast,"
cried he, "that we may get into port in time."

However, I drove a thread of oakum on top of the cotton, as from
the first I had intended to do. And Bruno again wagged his tail.
The cotton never "crawled." When the calking was finished, two
coats of copper paint were slapped on the bottom, two of white lead
on the topsides and bulwarks. The rudder was then shipped and
painted, and on the following day the Spray was launched. As she
rode at her ancient, rust-eaten anchor, she sat on the water like a
swan.

The Spray's dimensions were, when finished, thirty-six feet nine
inches long, over all, fourteen feet two inches wide, and four feet
two inches deep in the hold, her tonnage being nine tons net and
twelve and seventy-one hundredths tons gross.

Then the mast, a smart New Hampshire spruce, was fitted, and
likewise all the small appurtenances necessary for a short cruise.
Sails were bent, and away she flew with my friend Captain Pierce
and me, across Buzzard's Bay on a trial-trip - all right. The only
thing that now worried my friends along the beach was, "Will she
pay?" The cost of my new vessel was $553.62 for materials, and
thirteen months of my own labor. I was several months more than
that at Fairhaven, for I got work now and then on an occasional
whale-ship fitting farther down the harbor, and that kept me the
overtime.

CHAPTER II

Failure as a fisherman - A voyage around the world projected - From
Boston to Gloucester - Fitting out for the ocean voyage - Half of a
dory for a ship's boat - The run from Gloucester to Nova Scotia - A
shaking up in home waters - Among old friends.

I spent a season in my new craft fishing on the coast, only to find
that I had not the cunning properly to bait a hook. But at last the
time arrived to weigh anchor and get to sea in earnest. I had
resolved on a voyage around the world, and as the wind on the
morning of April 24,1895, was fair, at noon I weighed anchor, set
sail, and filled away from Boston, where the Spray had been moored
snugly all winter. The twelve-o'clock whistles were blowing just as
the sloop shot ahead under full sail. A short board was made up the
harbor on the port tack, then coming about she stood seaward, with
her boom well off to port, and swung past the ferries with lively
heels. A photographer on the outer pier at East Boston got a
picture of her as she swept by, her flag at the peak throwing its
folds clear. A thrilling pulse beat high in me. My step was light
on deck in the crisp air. I felt that there could be no turning
back, and that I was engaging in an adventure the meaning of which
I thoroughly understood. I had taken little advice from any one,
for I had a right to my own opinions in matters pertaining to the
sea. That the best of sailors might do worse than even I alone was
borne in upon me not a league from Boston docks, where a great
steamship, fully manned, officered, and piloted, lay stranded and
broken. This was the Venetian. She was broken completely in two
over a ledge. So in the first hour of my lone voyage I had proof
that the Spray could at least do better than this full-handed
steamship, for I was already farther on my voyage than she. "Take
warning, Spray, and have a care," I uttered aloud to my bark,
passing fairylike silently down the bay.

The wind freshened, and the Spray rounded Deer Island light at the
rate of seven knots.

Passing it, she squared away direct for Gloucester to procure there
some fishermen's stores. Waves dancing joyously across
Massachusetts Bay met her coming out of the harbor to dash them
into myriads of sparkling gems that hung about her at every surge.
The day was perfect, the sunlight clear and strong. Every particle
of water thrown into the air became a gem, and the Spray, bounding
ahead, snatched necklace after necklace from the sea, and as often
threw them away. We have all seen miniature rainbows about a ship's
prow, but the Spray flung out a bow of her own that day, such as I
had never seen before. Her good angel had embarked on the voyage; I
so read it in the sea.

Bold Nahant was soon abeam, then Marblehead was put astern. Other
vessels were outward bound, but none of them passed the Spray
flying along on her course. I heard the clanking of the dismal bell
on Norman's Woe as we went by; and the reef where the schooner
Hesperus struck I passed close aboard. The "bones" of a wreck
tossed up lay bleaching on the shore abreast. The wind still
freshening, I settled the throat of the mainsail to ease the
sloop's helm, for I could hardly hold her before it with the whole
mainsail set. A schooner ahead of me lowered all sail and ran into
port under bare poles, the wind being fair. As the Spray brushed by
the stranger, I saw that some of his sails were gone, and much
broken canvas hung in his rigging, from the effects of a squall.

I made for the cove, a lovely branch of Gloucester's fine harbor,
again to look the Spray over and again to weigh the voyage, and my
feelings, and all that. The bay was feather-white as my little
vessel tore in, smothered in foam. It was my first experience of
coming into port alone, with a craft of any size, and in among
shipping. Old fishermen ran down to the wharf for which the Spray
was heading, apparently intent upon braining herself there. I
hardly know how a calamity was averted, but with my heart in my
mouth, almost, I let go the wheel, stepped quickly forward, and
downed the jib. The sloop naturally rounded in the wind, and just
ranging ahead, laid her cheek against a mooring-pile at the
windward corner of the wharf, so quietly, after all, that she would
not have broken an egg. Very leisurely I passed a rope around the
post, and she was moored. Then a cheer went up from the little
crowd on the wharf. "You couldn't 'a' done it better," cried an old
skipper, "if you weighed a ton!" Now, my weight was rather less
than the fifteenth part of a ton, but I said nothing, only putting
on a look of careless indifference to say for me, "Oh, that's
nothing"; for some of the ablest sailors in the world were looking
at me, and my wish was not to appear green, for I had a mind to
stay in Gloucester several days. Had I uttered a word it surely
would have betrayed me, for I was still quite nervous and short of
breath.

I remained in Gloucester about two weeks, fitting out with the
various articles for the voyage most readily obtained there. The
owners of the wharf where I lay, and of many fishing-vessels, put
on board dry cod galore, also a barrel of oil to calm the waves.
They were old skippers themselves, and took a great interest in the
voyage. They also made the Spray a present of a "fisherman's own"
lantern, which I found would throw a light a great distance round.
Indeed, a ship that would run another down having such a good light
aboard would be capable of running into a light-ship. A gaff, a
pugh, and a dip-net, all of which an old fisherman declared I could
not sail without, were also put aboard. Then, top, from across the
cove came a case of copper paint, a famous antifouling article,
which stood me in good stead long after. I slapped two coats of
this paint on the bottom of the Spray while she lay a tide or so on
the hard beach.

For a boat to take along, I made shift to cut a castaway dory in
two athwartships, boarding up the end where it was cut. This half-
dory I could hoist in and out by the nose easily enough, by hooking
the throat-halyards into a strop fitted for the purpose. A whole
dory would be heavy and awkward to handle alone. Manifestly there
was not room on deck for more than the half of a boat, which, after
all, was better than no boat at all, and was large enough for one
man. I perceived, moreover, that the newly arranged craft would
answer for a washing-machine when placed athwartships, and also for
a bath-tub. Indeed, for the former office my razeed dory gained
such a reputation on the voyage that my washerwoman at Samoa would
not take no for an answer. She could see with one eye that it was a
new invention which beat any Yankee notion ever brought by
missionaries to the islands, and she had to have it.

The want of a chronometer for the voyage was all that now worried
me. In our newfangled notions of navigation it is supposed that a
mariner cannot find his way without one; and I had myself drifted
into this way of thinking. My old chronometer, a good one, had been
long in disuse. It would cost fifteen dollars to clean and rate it.
Fifteen dollars! For sufficient reasons I left that timepiece at
home, where the Dutchman left his anchor. I had the great lantern,
and a lady in Boston sent me the price of a large two-burner cabin
lamp, which lighted the cabin at night, and by some small
contriving served for a stove through the day.

Being thus refitted I was once more ready for sea, and on May 7
again made sail. With little room in which to turn, the Spray , in
gathering headway, scratched the paint off an old, fine-weather
craft in the fairway, being puttied and painted for a summer
voyage. "Who'll pay for that?" growled the painters. "I will," said
I. "With the main-sheet," echoed the captain of the Bluebird ,
close by, which was his way of saying that I was off. There was
nothing to pay for above five cents' worth of paint, maybe, but
such a din was raised between the old "hooker" and the Bluebird ,
which now took up my case, that the first cause of it was forgotten
altogether. Anyhow, no bill was sent after me.

The weather was mild on the day of my departure from Gloucester. On
the point ahead, as the Spray stood out of the cove, was a lively
picture, for the front of a tall factory was a flutter of
handkerchiefs and caps. Pretty faces peered out of the windows from
the top to the bottom of the building, all smiling bon voyage .
Some hailed me to know where away and why alone. Why? When I made
as if to stand in, a hundred pairs of arms reached out, and said
come, but the shore was dangerous! The sloop worked out of the bay
against a light southwest wind, and about noon squared away off
Eastern Point, receiving at the same time a hearty salute - the
last of many kindnesses to her at Gloucester. The wind freshened
off the point, and skipping along smoothly, the Spray was soon off
Thatcher's Island lights. Thence shaping her course east, by
compass, to go north of Cashes Ledge and the Amen Rocks, I sat and
considered the matter all over again, and asked myself once more
whether it were best to sail beyond the ledge and rocks at all. I
had only said that I would sail round the world in the Spray ,
"dangers of the sea excepted," but I must have said it very much in
earnest. The "charter-party" with myself seemed to bind me, and so
I sailed on. Toward night I hauled the sloop to the wind, and
baiting a hook, sounded for bottom-fish, in thirty fathoms of
water, on the edge of Cashes Ledge. With fair success I hauled till
dark, landing on deck three cod and two haddocks, one hake, and,
best of all, a small halibut, all plump and spry. This, I thought,
would be the place to take in a good stock of provisions above what
I already had; so I put out a sea-anchor that would hold her head
to windward. The current being southwest, against the wind, I felt
quite sure I would find the Spray still on the bank or near it in
the morning. Then "stradding" the cable and putting my great
lantern in the rigging, I lay down, for the first time at sea
alone, not to sleep, but to doze and to dream.

I had read somewhere of a fishing-schooner hooking her anchor into
a whale, and being towed a long way and at great speed. This was
exactly what happened to the Spray - in my dream! I could not
shake it off entirely when I awoke and found that it was the wind
blowing and the heavy sea now running that had disturbed my short
rest. A scud was flying across the moon. A storm was brewing;
indeed, it was already stormy. I reefed the sails, then hauled in
my sea-anchor, and setting what canvas the sloop could carry,
headed her away for Monhegan light, which she made before daylight
on the morning of the 8th. The wind being free, I ran on into Round
Pond harbor, which is a little port east from Pemaquid. Here I
rested a day, while the wind rattled among the pine-trees on shore.
But the following day was fine enough, and I put to sea, first
writing up my log from Cape Ann, not omitting a full account of my
adventure with the whale.

The Spray , heading east, stretched along the coast among many
islands and over a tranquil sea. At evening of this day, May 10,
she came up with a considerable island, which I shall always think
of as the Island of Frogs, for the Spray was charmed by a million
voices. From the Island of Frogs we made for the Island of Birds,
called Gannet Island, and sometimes Gannet Rock, whereon is a
bright, intermittent light, which flashed fitfully across the
Spray's deck as she coasted along under its light and shade. Thence
shaping a course for Briar's Island, I came among vessels the
following afternoon on the western fishing-grounds, and after
speaking a fisherman at anchor, who gave me a wrong course, the
Spray sailed directly over the southwest ledge through the worst
tide-race in the Bay of Fundy, and got into Westport harbor in Nova
Scotia, where I had spent eight years of my life as a lad.

The fisherman may have said "east-southeast," the course I was
steering when I hailed him; but I thought he said "east-northeast,"
and I accordingly changed it to that. Before he made up his mind to
answer me at all, he improved the occasion of his own curiosity to
know where I was from, and if I was alone, and if I didn't have "no
dorg nor no cat." It was the first time in all my life at sea that
I had heard a hail for information answered by a question. I think
the chap belonged to the Foreign Islands. There was one thing I was
sure of, and that was that he did not belong to Briar's Island,
because he dodged a sea that slopped over the rail, and stopping to
brush the water from his face, lost a fine cod which he was about
to ship. My islander would not have done that. It is known that a
Briar Islander, fish or no fish on his hook, never flinches from a
sea. He just tends to his lines and hauls or "saws." Nay, have I
not seen my old friend Deacon W. D - -, a good man of the island,
while listening to a sermon in the little church on the hill, reach
out his hand over the door of his pew and "jig" imaginary squid in
the aisle, to the intense delight of the young people, who did not
realize that to catch good fish one must have good bait, the thing
most on the deacon's mind.

I was delighted to reach Westport. Any port at all would have been
delightful after the terrible thrashing I got in the fierce
sou'west rip, and to find myself among old schoolmates now was
charming. It was the 13th of the month, and 13 is my lucky number -
a fact registered long before Dr. Nansen sailed in search of the
north pole with his crew of thirteen. Perhaps he had heard of my
success in taking a most extraordinary ship successfully to Brazil
with that number of crew. The very stones on Briar's Island I was
glad to see again, and I knew them all. The little shop round the
corner, which for thirty-five years I had not seen, was the same,
except that it looked a deal smaller. It wore the same shingles - I
was sure of it; for did not I know the roof where we boys, night
after night, hunted for the skin of a black cat, to be taken on a
dark night, to make a plaster for a poor lame man? Lowry the tailor
lived there when boys were boys. In his day he was fond of the gun.
He always carried his powder loose in the tail pocket of his coat.
He usually had in his mouth a short dudeen; but in an evil moment
he put the dudeen, lighted, in the pocket among the powder. Mr.
Lowry was an eccentric man.

At Briar's Island I overhauled the Spray once more and tried her
seams, but found that even the test of the sou'west rip had started
nothing. Bad weather and much head wind prevailing outside, I was
in no hurry to round Cape Sable. I made a short excursion with some
friends to St. Mary's Bay, an old cruising-ground, and back to the
island. Then I sailed, putting into Yarmouth the following day on
account of fog and head wind. I spent some days pleasantly enough
in Yarmouth, took in some butter for the voyage, also a barrel of
potatoes, filled six barrels of water, and stowed all under deck.
At Yarmouth, too, I got my famous tin clock, the only timepiece I
carried on the whole voyage. The price of it was a dollar and a
half, but on account of the face being smashed the merchant let me
have it for a dollar.

CHAPTER III

Good-by to the American coast - Off Sable Island in a fog - In the
open sea - The man in the moon takes an interest in the voyage -
The first fit of loneliness - The Spray encounters La Vaguisa - A
bottle of wine from the Spaniard - A bout of words with the captain
of the Java - The steamship Olympia spoken - Arrival at the Azores.

I now stowed all my goods securely, for the boisterous Atlantic was
before me, and I sent the topmast down, knowing that the Spray
would be the wholesomer with it on deck. Then I gave the lanyards a
pull and hitched them afresh, and saw that the gammon was secure,
also that the boat was lashed, for even in summer one may meet with
bad weather in the crossing.

In fact, many weeks of bad weather had prevailed. On July 1,
however, after a rude gale, the wind came out nor'west and clear,
propitious for a good run. On the following day, the head sea
having gone down, I sailed from Yarmouth, and let go my last hold
on America. The log of my first day on the Atlantic in the Spray
reads briefly: "9:30 A.M. sailed from Yarmouth. 4:30 P.M. passed
Cape Sable; distance, three cables from the land. The sloop making
eight knots. Fresh breeze N.W." Before the sun went down I was
taking my supper of strawberries and tea in smooth water under the
lee of the east-coast land, along which the Spray was now leisurely
skirting.

At noon on July 3 Ironbound Island was abeam. The Spray was again
at her best. A large schooner came out of Liverpool, Nova Scotia,
this morning, steering eastward. The Spray put her hull down astern
in five hours. At 6:45 P.M. I was in close under Chebucto Head
light, near Halifax harbor. I set my flag and squared away, taking
my departure from George's Island before dark to sail east of Sable
Island. There are many beacon lights along the coast. Sambro, the
Rock of Lamentations, carries a noble light, which, however, the
liner Atlantic , on the night of her terrible disaster, did not
see. I watched light after light sink astern as I sailed into the
unbounded sea, till Sambro, the last of them all, was below the
horizon. The Spray was then alone, and sailing on, she held her
course. July 4, at 6 A.M., I put in double reefs, and at 8:30 A.M.
turned out all reefs. At 9:40 P.M. I raised the sheen only of the
light on the west end of Sable Island, which may also be called the
Island of Tragedies. The fog, which till this moment had held off,
now lowered over the sea like a pall. I was in a world of fog, shut
off from the universe. I did not see any more of the light. By the
lead, which I cast often, I found that a little after midnight I
was passing the east point of the island, and should soon be clear
of dangers of land and shoals. The wind was holding free, though it
was from the foggy point, south-southwest. It is said that within a
few years Sable Island has been reduced from forty miles in length
to twenty, and that of three lighthouses built on it since 1880,
two have been washed away and the third will soon be engulfed.

On the evening of July 5 the Spray , after having steered all day
over a lumpy sea, took it into her head to go without the
helmsman's aid. I had been steering southeast by south, but the
wind hauling forward a bit, she dropped into a smooth lane, heading
southeast, and making about eight knots, her very best work. I
crowded on sail to cross the track of the liners without loss of
time, and to reach as soon as possible the friendly Gulf Stream.
The fog lifting before night, I was afforded a look at the sun just
as it was touching the sea. I watched it go down and out of sight.
Then I turned my face eastward, and there, apparently at the very
end of the bowsprit, was the smiling full moon rising out of the
sea. Neptune himself coming over the bows could not have startled
me more. "Good evening, sir," I cried; "I'm glad to see you." Many
a long talk since then I have had with the man in the moon; he had
my confidence on the voyage.

About midnight the fog shut down again denser than ever before. One
could almost "stand on it." It continued so for a number of days,
the wind increasing to a gale. The waves rose high, but I had a
good ship. Still, in the dismal fog I felt myself drifting into
loneliness, an insect on a straw in the midst of the elements. I
lashed the helm, and my vessel held her course, and while she
sailed I slept.

During these days a feeling of awe crept over me. My memory worked
with startling power. The ominous, the insignificant, the great,
the small, the wonderful, the commonplace - all appeared before my
mental vision in magical succession. Pages of my history were
recalled which had been so long forgotten that they seemed to
belong to a previous existence. I heard all the voices of the past
laughing, crying, telling what I had heard them tell in many
corners of the earth.

The loneliness of my state wore off when the gale was high and I
found much work to do. When fine weather returned, then came the
sense of solitude, which I could not shake off. I used my voice
often, at first giving some order about the affairs of a ship, for
I had been told that from disuse I should lose my speech. At the
meridian altitude of the sun I called aloud, "Eight bells," after
the custom on a ship at sea. Again from my cabin I cried to an
imaginary man at the helm, "How does she head, there?" and again,
"Is she on her course?" But getting no reply, I was reminded the
more palpably of my condition. My voice sounded hollow on the empty
air, and I dropped the practice. However, it was not long before
the thought came to me that when I was a lad I used to sing; why
not try that now, where it would disturb no one? My musical talent
had never bred envy in others, but out on the Atlantic, to realize
what it meant, you should have heard me sing. You should have seen
the porpoises leap when I pitched my voice for the waves and the
sea and all that was in it. Old turtles, with large eyes, poked
their heads up out of the sea as I sang "Johnny Boker," and "We'll
Pay Darby Doyl for his Boots," and the like. But the porpoises
were, on the whole, vastly more appreciative than the turtles; they
jumped a deal higher. One day when I was humming a favorite chant,
I think it was "Babylon's a-Fallin'," a porpoise jumped higher than
the bowsprit. Had the Spray been going a little faster she would
have scooped him in. The sea-birds sailed around rather shy.

July 10, eight days at sea, the Spray was twelve hundred miles east
of Cape Sable. One hundred and fifty miles a day for so small a
vessel must be considered good sailing. It was the greatest run the
Spray ever made before or since in so few days. On the evening of
July 14, in better humor than ever before, all hands cried, "Sail
ho!" The sail was a barkantine, three points on the weather bow,
hull down. Then came the night. My ship was sailing along now
without attention to the helm. The wind was south; she was heading
east. Her sails were trimmed like the sails of the nautilus. They
drew steadily all night. I went frequently on deck, but found all
well. A merry breeze kept on from the south. Early in the morning
of the 15th the Spray was close aboard the stranger, which proved
to be La Vaguisa of Vigo, twenty-three days from Philadelphia,
bound for Vigo. A lookout from his masthead had spied the Spray the
evening before. The captain, when I came near enough, threw a line
to me and sent a bottle of wine across slung by the neck, and very
good wine it was. He also sent his card, which bore the name of
Juan Gantes. I think he was a good man, as Spaniards go. But when I
asked him to report me "all well" (the Spray passing him in a
lively manner), he hauled his shoulders much above his head; and
when his mate, who knew of my expedition, told him that I was
alone, he crossed himself and made for his cabin. I did not see him
again. By sundown he was as far astern as he had been ahead the
evening before.

There was now less and less monotony. On July 16 the wind was
northwest and clear, the sea smooth, and a large bark, hull down,
came in sight on the lee bow, and at 2:30 P.M. I spoke the
stranger. She was the bark Java of Glasgow, from Peru for
Queenstown for orders. Her old captain was bearish, but I met a
bear once in Alaska that looked pleasanter. At least, the bear
seemed pleased to meet me, but this grizzly old man! Well, I
suppose my hail disturbed his siesta, and my little sloop passing
his great ship had somewhat the effect on him that a red rag has
upon a bull. I had the advantage over heavy ships, by long odds, in
the light winds of this and the two previous days. The wind was
light; his ship was heavy and foul, making poor headway, while the
Spray , with a great mainsail bellying even to light winds, was
just skipping along as nimbly as one could wish. "How long has it
been calm about here?" roared the captain of the Java , as I came
within hail of him. "Dunno, cap'n," I shouted back as loud as I
could bawl. "I haven't been here long." At this the mate on the
forecastle wore a broad grin. "I left Cape Sable fourteen days
ago," I added. (I was now well across toward the Azores.) "Mate,"
he roared to his chief officer - "mate, come here and listen to the
Yankee's yarn. Haul down the flag, mate, haul down the flag!" In
the best of humor, after all, the Java surrendered to the Spray .

The acute pain of solitude experienced at first never returned. I
had penetrated a mystery, and, by the way, I had sailed through a
fog. I had met Neptune in his wrath, but he found that I had not
treated him with contempt, and so he suffered me to go on and
explore.

In the log for July 18 there is this entry: "Fine weather, wind
south-southwest. Porpoises gamboling all about. The S.S. Olympia
passed at 11:30 A.M., long. W. 34 degrees 50'."

"It lacks now three minutes of the half-hour," shouted the captain,
as he gave me the longitude and the time. I admired the
businesslike air of the Olympia ; but I have the feeling still that
the captain was just a little too precise in his reckoning. That
may be all well enough, however, where there is plenty of sea-room.
But over-confidence, I believe, was the cause of the disaster to
the liner Atlantic , and many more like her. The captain knew too
well where he was. There were no porpoises at all skipping along
with the Olympia ! Porpoises always prefer sailing-ships. The
captain was a young man, I observed, and had before him, I hope, a
good record.

Land ho! On the morning of July 19 a mystic dome like a mountain of
silver stood alone in the sea ahead. Although the land was
completely hidden by the white, glistening haze that shone in the
sun like polished silver, I felt quite sure that it was Flores
Island. At half-past four P.M. it was abeam. The haze in the
meantime had disappeared. Flores is one hundred and seventy-four
miles from Fayal, and although it is a high island, it remained
many years undiscovered after the principal group of the islands
had been colonized.

Early on the morning of July 20 I saw Pico looming above the clouds
on the starboard bow. Lower lands burst forth as the sun burned
away the morning fog, and island after island came into view. As I
approached nearer, cultivated fields appeared, "and oh, how green
the corn!" Only those who have seen the Azores from the deck of a
vessel realize the beauty of the mid-ocean picture.

At 4:30 P.M. I cast anchor at Fayal, exactly eighteen days from
Cape Sable. The American consul, in a smart boat, came alongside
before the Spray reached the breakwater, and a young naval officer,
who feared for the safety of my vessel, boarded, and offered his
services as pilot. The youngster, I have no good reason to doubt,
could have handled a man-of-war, but the Spray was too small for
the amount of uniform he wore. I could never make out. But I
forgive him.

It was the season for fruit when I arrived at the Azores, and there
was soon more of all kinds of it put on board than I knew what to
do with. Islanders are always the kindest people in the world, and
I met none anywhere kinder than the good hearts of this place. The
people of the Azores are not a very rich community. The burden of
taxes is heavy, with scant privileges in return, the air they
breathe being about the only thing that is not taxed. The mother-
country does not even allow them a port of entry for a foreign mail
service. A packet passing never so close with mails for Horta must
deliver them first in Lisbon, ostensibly to be fumigated, but
really for the tariff from the packet. My own letters posted at
Horta reached the United States six days behind my letter from
Gibraltar, mailed thirteen days later.

The day after my arrival at Horta was the feast of a great saint.
Boats loaded with people came from other islands to celebrate at
Horta, the capital, or Jerusalem, of the Azores. The deck of the
Spray was crowded from morning till night with men, women, and
children. On the day after the feast a kind-hearted native
harnessed a team and drove me a day over the beautiful roads all
about Fayal, "because," said he, in broken English, "when I was in
America and couldn't speak a word of English, I found it hard till
I met some one who seemed to have time to listen to my story, and I
promised my good saint then that if ever a stranger came to my
country I would try to make him happy." Unfortunately, this
gentleman brought along an interpreter, that I might "learn more of
the country." The fellow was nearly the death of me, talking of
ships and voyages, and of the boats he had steered, the last thing
in the world I wished to hear. He had sailed out of New Bedford, so
he said, for "that Joe Wing they call 'John.'" My friend and host
found hardly a chance to edge in a word. Before we parted my host
dined me with a cheer that would have gladdened the heart of a
prince, but he was quite alone in his house. "My wife and children
all rest there," said he, pointing to the churchyard across the
way. "I moved to this house from far off," he added, "to be near
the spot, where I pray every morning."

I remained four days at Fayal, and that was two days more than I
had intended to stay. It was the kindness of the islanders and
their touching simplicity which detained me. A damsel, as innocent
as an angel, came alongside one day, and said she would embark on
the Spray if I would land her at Lisbon. She could cook flying-
fish, she thought, but her forte was dressing bacalhao . Her
brother Antonio, who served as interpreter, hinted that, anyhow, he
would like to make the trip. Antonio's heart went out to one John
Wilson, and he was ready to sail for America by way of the two
capes to meet his friend. "Do you know John Wilson of Boston?" he
cried. "I knew a John Wilson," I said, "but not of Boston." "He had
one daughter and one son," said Antonio, by way of identifying his
friend. If this reaches the right John Wilson, I am told to say
that "Antonio of Pico remembers him."

CHAPTER IV

Squally weather in the Azores - High living - Delirious from cheese
and plums - The pilot of the Pinta - At Gibraltar - Compliments
exchanged with the British navy - A picnic on the Morocco shore.

I set sail from Horta early on July 24. The southwest wind at the
time was light, but squalls came up with the sun, and I was glad
enough to get reefs in my sails before I had gone a mile. I had
hardly set the mainsail, double-reefed, when a squall of wind down
the mountains struck the sloop with such violence that I thought
her mast would go. However, a quick helm brought her to the wind.
As it was, one of the weather lanyards was carried away and the
other was stranded. My tin basin, caught up by the wind, went
flying across a French school-ship to leeward. It was more or less
squally all day, sailing along under high land; but rounding close
under a bluff, I found an opportunity to mend the lanyards broken
in the squall. No sooner had I lowered my sails when a four-oared
boat shot out from some gully in the rocks, with a customs officer
on board, who thought he had come upon a smuggler. I had some
difficulty in making him comprehend the true case. However, one of
his crew, a sailorly chap, who understood how matters were, while
we palavered jumped on board and rove off the new lanyards I had
already prepared, and with a friendly hand helped me "set up the
rigging." This incident gave the turn in my favor. My story was
then clear to all. I have found this the way of the world. Let one
be without a friend, and see what will happen!

Passing the island of Pico, after the rigging was mended, the Spray
stretched across to leeward of the island of St. Michael's, which
she was up with early on the morning of July 26, the wind blowing
hard. Later in the day she passed the Prince of Monaco's fine steam-
yacht bound to Fayal, where, on a previous voyage, the prince had
slipped his cables to "escape a reception" which the padres of the
island wished to give him. Why he so dreaded the "ovation" I could
not make out. At Horta they did not know. Since reaching the
islands I had lived most luxuriously on fresh bread, butter,
vegetables, and fruits of all kinds. Plums seemed the most
plentiful on the Spray , and these I ate without stint. I had also
a Pico white cheese that General Manning, the American consul-
general, had given me, which I supposed was to be eaten, and of
this I partook with the plums. Alas! by night-time I was doubled up
with cramps. The wind, which was already a smart breeze, was
increasing somewhat, with a heavy sky to the sou'west.

Reefs had been turned out, and I must turn them in again somehow.
Between cramps I got the mainsail down, hauled out the earings as
best I could, and tied away point by point, in the double reef.
There being sea-room, I should, in strict prudence, have made all
snug and gone down at once to my cabin. I am a careful man at sea,
but this night, in the coming storm, I swayed up my sails, which,
reefed though they were, were still too much in such heavy weather;
and I saw to it that the sheets were securely belayed. In a word, I
should have laid to, but did not. I gave her the double-reefed
mainsail and whole jib instead, and set her on her course. Then I
went below, and threw myself upon the cabin floor in great pain.
How long I lay there I could not tell, for I became delirious. When
I came to, as I thought, from my swoon, I realized that the sloop
was plunging into a heavy sea, and looking out of the companionway,
to my amazement I saw a tall man at the helm. His rigid hand,
grasping the spokes of the wheel, held them as in a vise. One may
imagine my astonishment. His rig was that of a foreign sailor, and
the large red cap he wore was cockbilled over his left ear, and all
was set off with shaggy black whiskers. He would have been taken
for a pirate in any part of the world. While I gazed upon his
threatening aspect I forgot the storm, and wondered if he had come
to cut my throat. This he seemed to divine. "Senor," said he,
doffing his cap,

"I have come to do you no harm." And a smile, the faintest in the
world, but still a smile, played on his face, which seemed not
unkind when he spoke. "I have come to do you no harm. I have sailed
free," he said, "but was never worse than a contrabandista . I am
one of Columbus's crew," he continued. "I am the pilot of the Pinta
come to aid you. Lie quiet, senor captain," he added, "and I will
guide your ship to-night. You have a calentura , but you will be
all right tomorrow." I thought what a very devil he was to carry
sail. Again, as if he read my mind, he exclaimed: "Yonder is the
Pinta ahead; we must overtake her. Give her sail; give her sail!
Vale, vale, muy vale! " Biting off a large quid of black twist, he
said: "You did wrong, captain, to mix cheese with plums. White
cheese is never safe unless you know whence it comes. Quien sabe ,
it may have been from leche de Capra and becoming capricious - "

"Avast, there!" I cried. "I have no mind for moralizing."

I made shift to spread a mattress and lie on that instead of the
hard floor, my eyes all the while fastened on my strange guest,
who, remarking again that I would have "only pains and calentura,"
chuckled as he chanted a wild song:

High are the waves, fierce, gleaming, High is the tempest roar!
High the sea-bird screaming! High the Azore!

I suppose I was now on the mend, for I was peevish, and complained:
"I detest your jingle. Your Azore should be at roost, and would
have been were it a respectable bird!" I begged he would tie a rope-
yarn on the rest of the song, if there was any more of it. I was
still in agony. Great seas were boarding the Spray , but in my
fevered brain I thought they were boats falling on deck, that
careless draymen were throwing from wagons on the pier to which I
imagined the Spray was now moored, and without fenders to breast
her off. "You'll smash your boats!" I called out again and again,
as the seas crashed on the cabin over my head. "You'll smash your
boats, but you can't hurt the Spray . She is strong!" I cried.

I found, when my pains and calentura had gone, that the deck, now
as white as a shark's tooth from seas washing over it, had been
swept of everything movable. To my astonishment, I saw now at broad
day that the Spray was still heading as I had left her, and was
going like a racehorse. Columbus himself could not have held her
more exactly on her course. The sloop had made ninety miles in the
night through a rough sea. I felt grateful to the old pilot, but I
marveled some that he had not taken in the jib. The gale was
moderating, and by noon the sun was shining. A meridian altitude
and the distance on the patent log, which I always kept towing,
told me that she had made a true course throughout the twenty-four
hours. I was getting much better now, but was very weak, and did
not turn out reefs that day or the night following, although the
wind fell light; but I just put my wet clothes out in the sun when
it was shining, and lying down there myself, fell asleep. Then who
should visit me again but my old friend of the night before, this
time, of course, in a dream. "You did well last night to take my
advice," said he, "and if you would, I should like to be with you
often on the voyage, for the love of adventure alone." Finishing
what he had to say, he again doffed his cap and disappeared as
mysteriously as he came, returning, I suppose, to the phantom Pinta
. I awoke much refreshed, and with the feeling that I had been in
the presence of a friend and a seaman of vast experience. I
gathered up my clothes, which by this time were dry, then, by
inspiration, I threw overboard all the plums in the vessel.

July 28 was exceptionally fine. The wind from the northwest was
light and the air balmy. I overhauled my wardrobe, and bent on a
white shirt against nearing some coasting-packet with genteel folk
on board. I also did some washing to get the salt out of my
clothes. After it all I was hungry, so I made a fire and very
cautiously stewed a dish of pears and set them carefully aside till
I had made a pot of delicious coffee, for both of which I could
afford sugar and cream. But the crowning dish of all was a fish-
hash, and there was enough of it for two. I was in good health
again, and my appetite was simply ravenous. While I was dining I
had a large onion over the double lamp stewing for a luncheon later
in the day. High living to-day!

In the afternoon the Spray came upon a large turtle asleep on the
sea. He awoke with my harpoon through his neck, if he awoke at all.
I had much difficulty in landing him on deck, which I finally
accomplished by hooking the throat-halyards to one of his flippers,
for he was about as heavy as my boat. I saw more turtles, and I
rigged a burton ready with which to hoist them in; for I was
obliged to lower the mainsail whenever the halyards were used for
such purposes, and it was no small matter to hoist the large sail
again. But the turtle-steak was good. I found no fault with the
cook, and it was the rule of the voyage that the cook found no
fault with me. There was never a ship's crew so well agreed. The
bill of fare that evening was turtle-steak, tea and toast, fried
potatoes, stewed onions; with dessert of stewed pears and cream.

Sometime in the afternoon I passed a barrel-buoy adrift, floating
light on the water. It was painted red, and rigged with a signal-
staff about six feet high. A sudden change in the weather coming
on, I got no more turtle or fish of any sort before reaching port.
July 31 a gale sprang up suddenly from the north, with heavy seas,
and I shortened sail. The Spray made only fifty-one miles on her
course that day. August 1 the gale continued, with heavy seas.
Through the night the sloop was reaching, under close-reefed
mainsail and bobbed jib. At 3 P.M. the jib was washed off the
bowsprit and blown to rags and ribbons. I bent the "jumbo" on a
stay at the night-heads. As for the jib, let it go; I saved pieces
of it, and, after all, I was in want of pot-rags.

On August 3 the gale broke, and I saw many signs of land. Bad
weather having made itself felt in the galley, I was minded to try
my hand at a loaf of bread, and so rigging a pot of fire on deck by
which to bake it, a loaf soon became an accomplished fact. One
great feature about ship's cooking is that one's appetite on the
sea is always good - a fact that I realized when I cooked for the
crew of fishermen in the before-mentioned boyhood days. Dinner
being over, I sat for hours reading the life of Columbus, and as
the day wore on I watched the birds all flying in one direction,
and said, "Land lies there."

Early the next morning, August 4, I discovered Spain. I saw fires
on shore, and knew that the country was inhabited. The Spray
continued on her course till well in with the land, which was that
about Trafalgar. Then keeping away a point, she passed through the
Strait of Gibraltar, where she cast anchor at 3 P. M. of the same
day, less than twenty-nine days from Cape Sable. At the finish of
this preliminary trip I found myself in excellent health, not
overworked or cramped, but as well as ever in my life, though I was
as thin as a reef-point.

Two Italian barks, which had been close alongside at daylight, I
saw long after I had anchored, passing up the African side of the
strait. The Spray had sailed them both hull down before she reached
Tarifa. So far as I know, the Spray beat everything going across
the Atlantic except the steamers.

All was well, but I had forgotten to bring a bill of health from
Horta, and so when the fierce old port doctor came to inspect there
was a row. That, however, was the very thing needed. If you want to
get on well with a true Britisher you must first have a deuce of a
row with him. I knew that well enough, and so I fired away, shot
for shot, as best I could. "Well, yes," the doctor admitted at
last, "your crew are healthy enough, no doubt, but who knows the
diseases of your last port?" - a reasonable enough remark. "We
ought to put you in the fort, sir!" he blustered; "but never mind.
Free pratique, sir! Shove off, cockswain!" And that was the last I
saw of the port doctor.

But on the following morning a steam-launch, much longer than the
Spray , came alongside, - or as much of her as could get alongside,
- with compliments from the senior naval officer, Admiral Bruce,
saying there was a berth for the Spray at the arsenal. This was
around at the new mole. I had anchored at the old mole, among the
native craft, where it was rough and uncomfortable. Of course I was
glad to shift, and did so as soon as possible, thinking of the
great company the Spray would be in among battle-ships such as the
Collingwood , Balfleur , and Cormorant , which were at that time
stationed there, and on board all of which I was entertained,
later, most royally.

"'Put it thar!' as the Americans say," was the salute I got from
Admiral Bruce, when I called at the admiralty to thank him for his
courtesy of the berth, and for the use of the steam-launch which
towed me into dock. "About the berth, it is all right if it suits,
and we'll tow you out when you are ready to go. But, say, what
repairs do you want? Ahoy the Hebe , can you spare your sailmaker?
The Spray wants a new jib. Construction and repair, there! will you
see to the Spray ?

Later in the day came the hail: " Spray ahoy! Mrs. Bruce would like
to come on board and shake hands with the Spray . Will it be
convenient to-day!" "Very!" I joyfully shouted.

On the following day Sir F. Carrington, at the time governor of
Gibraltar, with other high officers of the garrison, and all the
commanders of the battle-ships, came on board and signed their
names in the Spray's log-book. Again there was a hail, " Spray
ahoy!" "Hello!" "Commander Reynolds's compliments. You are invited
on board H.M.S. Collingwood , 'at home' at 4:30 P.M. Not later than
5:30 P.M." I had already hinted at the limited amount of my
wardrobe, and that I could never succeed as a dude. "You are
expected, sir, in a stovepipe hat and a claw-hammer coat!" "Then I
can't come." "Dash it! come in what you have on; that is what we
mean." "Aye, aye, sir!" The Collingwood's cheer was good, and had I
worn a silk hat as high as the moon I could not have had a better
time or been made more at home. An Englishman, even on his great
battle-ship, unbends when the stranger passes his gangway, and when
he says "at home" he means it.

That one should like Gibraltar would go without saying. How could
one help loving so hospitable a place? Vegetables twice a week and
milk every morning came from the palatial grounds of the admiralty.
" Spray ahoy!" would hail the admiral. " Spray ahoy!" "Hello!" "To-
morrow is your vegetable day, sir." "Aye, aye, sir!"

I rambled much about the old city, and a gunner piloted me through
the galleries of the rock as far as a stranger is permitted to go.
There is no excavation in the world, for military purposes, at all
approaching these of Gibraltar in conception or execution. Viewing
the stupendous works, it became hard to realize that one was within
the Gibraltar of his little old Morse geography.

Before sailing I was invited on a picnic with the governor, the
officers of the garrison, and the commanders of the war-ships at
the station; and a royal affair it was. Torpedo-boat No. 91, going
twenty-two knots, carried our party to the Morocco shore and back.
The day was perfect - too fine, in fact, for comfort on shore, and
so no one landed at Morocco. No. 91 trembled like an aspen-leaf as
she raced through the sea at top speed. Sublieutenant Boucher,
apparently a mere lad, was in command, and handled his ship with
the skill of an older sailor. On the following day I lunched with
General Carrington, the governor, at Line Wall House, which was
once the Franciscan convent. In this interesting edifice are
preserved relics of the fourteen sieges which Gibraltar has seen.
On the next day I supped with the admiral at his residence, the
palace, which was once the convent of the Mercenaries. At each
place, and all about, I felt the friendly grasp of a manly hand,
that lent me vital strength to pass the coming long days at sea. I
must confess that the perfect discipline, order, and cheerfulness
at Gibraltar were only a second wonder in the great stronghold. The
vast amount of business going forward caused no more excitement
than the quiet sailing of a well-appointed ship in a smooth sea. No
one spoke above his natural voice, save a boatswain's mate now and
then. The Hon. Horatio J. Sprague, the venerable United States
consul at Gibraltar, honored the Spray with a visit on Sunday,
August 24, and was much pleased to find that our British cousins
had been so kind to her.

CHAPTER V

Sailing from Gibraltar with the assistance of her Majesty's tug -
The Spray's course changed from the Suez Canal to Cape Horn -
Chased by a Moorish pirate - A comparison with Columbus - The
Canary Islands-The Cape Verde Islands - Sea life - Arrival at
Pernambuco - A bill against the Brazilian government - Preparing
for the stormy weather of the cape.

Monday, August 25, the Spray sailed from Gibraltar, well repaid for
whatever deviation she had made from a direct course to reach the
place. A tug belonging to her Majesty towed the sloop into the
steady breeze clear of the mount, where her sails caught a volant
wind, which carried her once more to the Atlantic, where it rose
rapidly to a furious gale. My plan was, in going down this coast,
to haul offshore, well clear of the land, which hereabouts is the
home of pirates; but I had hardly accomplished this when I
perceived a felucca making out of the nearest port, and finally
following in the wake of the Spray . Now, my course to Gibraltar
had been taken with a view to proceed up the Mediterranean Sea,
through the Suez Canal, down the Red Sea, and east about, instead
of a western route, which I finally adopted. By officers of vast
experience in navigating these seas, I was influenced to make the
change. Longshore pirates on both coasts being numerous, I could
not afford to make light of the advice. But here I was, after all,
evidently in the midst of pirates and thieves! I changed my course;
the felucca did the same, both vessels sailing very fast, but the
distance growing less and less between us. The Spray was doing
nobly; she was even more than at her best; but, in spite of all I
could do, she would broach now and then. She was carrying too much
sail for safety. I must reef or be dismasted and lose all, pirate
or no pirate. I must reef, even if I had to grapple with him for my
life.

I was not long in reefing the mainsail and sweating it up -
probably not more than fifteen minutes; but the felucca had in the
meantime so shortened the distance between us that I now saw the
tuft of hair on the heads of the crew, - by which, it is said,
Mohammed will pull the villains up into heaven, - and they were
coming on like the wind. From what I could clearly make out now, I
felt them to be the sons of generations of pirates, and I saw by
their movements that they were now preparing to strike a blow. The
exultation on their faces, however, was changed in an instant to a
look of fear and rage. Their craft, with too much sail on, broached
to on the crest of a great wave. This one great sea changed the
aspect of affairs suddenly as the flash of a gun. Three minutes
later the same wave overtook the Spray and shook her in every
timber. At the same moment the sheet-strop parted, and away went
the main-boom, broken short at the rigging. Impulsively I sprang to
the jib-halyards and down-haul, and instantly downed the jib. The
head-sail being off, and the helm put hard down, the sloop came in
the wind with a bound. While shivering there, but a moment though
it was, I got the mainsail down and secured inboard, broken boom
and all. How I got the boom in before the sail was torn I hardly
know; but not a stitch of it was broken. The mainsail being
secured, I hoisted away the jib, and, without looking round,
stepped quickly to the cabin and snatched down my loaded rifle and
cartridges at hand; for I made mental calculations that the pirate
would by this time have recovered his course and be close aboard,
and that when I saw him it would be better for me to be looking at
him along the barrel of a gun. The piece was at my shoulder when I
peered into the mist, but there was no pirate within a mile. The
wave and squall that carried away my boom dismasted the felucca
outright. I perceived his thieving crew, some dozen or more of
them, struggling to recover their rigging from the sea. Allah
blacken their faces!

I sailed comfortably on under the jib and forestaysail, which I now
set. I fished the boom and furled the sail snug for the night; then
hauled the sloop's head two points offshore to allow for the set of
current and heavy rollers toward the land. This gave me the wind
three points on the starboard quarter and a steady pull in the
headsails. By the time I had things in this order it was dark, and
a flying-fish had already fallen on deck. I took him below for my
supper, but found myself too tired to cook, or even to eat a thing
already prepared. I do not remember to have been more tired before
or since in all my life than I was at the finish of that day. Too
fatigued to sleep, I rolled about with the motion of the vessel
till near midnight, when I made shift to dress my fish and prepare
a dish of tea. I fully realized now, if I had not before, that the
voyage ahead would call for exertions ardent and lasting. On August
27 nothing could be seen of the Moor, or his country either, except
two peaks, away in the east through the clear atmosphere of
morning. Soon after the sun rose even these were obscured by haze,
much to my satisfaction.

The wind, for a few days following my escape from the pirates, blew
a steady but moderate gale, and the sea, though agitated into long
rollers, was not uncomfortably rough or dangerous, and while
sitting in my cabin I could hardly realize that any sea was running
at all, so easy was the long, swinging motion of the sloop over the
waves. All distracting uneasiness and excitement being now over, I
was once more alone with myself in the realization that I was on
the mighty sea and in the hands of the elements. But I was happy,
and was becoming more and more interested in the voyage.

Columbus, in the Santa Maria , sailing these seas more than four
hundred years before, was not so happy as I, nor so sure of success
in what he had undertaken. His first troubles at sea had already
begun. His crew had managed, by foul play or otherwise, to break
the ship's rudder while running before probably just such a gale as
the Spray had passed through; and there was dissension on the Santa
Maria , something that was unknown on the Spray .

After three days of squalls and shifting winds I threw myself down
to rest and sleep, while, with helm lashed, the sloop sailed
steadily on her course.

September 1, in the early morning, land-clouds rising ahead told of
the Canary Islands not far away. A change in the weather came next
day: storm-clouds stretched their arms across the sky; from the
east, to all appearances, might come a fierce harmattan, or from
the south might come the fierce hurricane. Every point of the
compass threatened a wild storm. My attention was turned to reefing
sails, and no time was to be lost over it, either, for the sea in a
moment was confusion itself, and I was glad to head the sloop three
points or more away from her true course that she might ride safely
over the waves. I was now scudding her for the channel between
Africa and the island of Fuerteventura, the easternmost of the
Canary Islands, for which I was on the lookout. At 2 P.M., the
weather becoming suddenly fine, the island stood in view, already
abeam to starboard, and not more than seven miles off.
Fuerteventura is twenty-seven hundred feet high, and in fine
weather is visible many leagues away.

The wind freshened in the night, and the Spray had a fine run
through the channel. By daylight, September 3, she was twenty-five
miles clear of all the islands, when a calm ensued, which was the
precursor of another gale of wind that soon came on, bringing with
it dust from the African shore. It howled dismally while it lasted,
and though it was not the season of the harmattan, the sea in the
course of an hour was discolored with a reddish-brown dust. The air
remained thick with flying dust all the afternoon, but the wind,
veering northwest at night, swept it back to land, and afforded the
Spray once more a clear sky. Her mast now bent under a strong,
steady pressure, and her bellying sail swept the sea as she rolled
scuppers under, courtesying to the waves. These rolling waves
thrilled me as they tossed my ship, passing quickly under her keel.
This was grand sailing.

September 4, the wind, still fresh, blew from the north-northeast,
and the sea surged along with the sloop. About noon a steamship, a
bullock-droger, from the river Plate hove in sight, steering
northeast, and making bad weather of it. I signaled her, but got no
answer. She was plunging into the head sea and rolling in a most
astonishing manner, and from the way she yawed one might have said
that a wild steer was at the helm.

On the morning of September 6 I found three flying-fish on deck,
and a fourth one down the fore-scuttle as close as possible to the
frying-pan. It was the best haul yet, and afforded me a sumptuous
breakfast and dinner.

The Spray had now settled down to the tradewinds and to the
business of her voyage. Later in the day another droger hove in
sight, rolling as badly as her predecessor. I threw out no flag to
this one, but got the worst of it for passing under her lee. She
was, indeed, a stale one! And the poor cattle, how they bellowed!
The time was when ships passing one another at sea backed their
topsails and had a "gam," and on parting fired guns; but those good
old days have gone. People have hardly time nowadays to speak even
on the broad ocean, where news is news, and as for a salute of
guns, they cannot afford the powder. There are no poetry-enshrined
freighters on the sea now; it is a prosy life when we have no time
to bid one another good morning.

My ship, running now in the full swing of the trades, left me days
to myself for rest and recuperation. I employed the time in reading
and writing, or in whatever I found to do about the rigging and the
sails to keep them all in order. The cooking was always done
quickly, and was a small matter, as the bill of fare consisted
mostly of flying-fish, hot biscuits and butter, potatoes, coffee
and cream - dishes readily prepared.

On September 10 the Spray passed the island of St. Antonio, the
northwesternmost of the Cape Verdes, close aboard. The landfall was
wonderfully true, considering that no observations for longitude
had been made. The wind, northeast, as the sloop drew by the
island, was very squally, but I reefed her sails snug, and steered
broad from the highland of blustering St. Antonio. Then leaving the
Cape Verde Islands out of sight astern, I found myself once more
sailing a lonely sea and in a solitude supreme all around. When I
slept I dreamed that I was alone. This feeling never left me; but,
sleeping or waking, I seemed always to know the position of the
sloop, and I saw my vessel moving across the chart, which became a
picture before me.

One night while I sat in the cabin under this spell, the profound
stillness all about was broken by human voices alongside! I sprang
instantly to the deck, startled beyond my power to tell. Passing
close under lee, like an apparition, was a white bark under full
sail. The sailors on board of her were hauling on ropes to brace
the yards, which just cleared the sloop's mast as she swept by. No
one hailed from the white-winged flier, but I heard some one on
board say that he saw lights on the sloop, and that he made her out
to be a fisherman. I sat long on the starlit deck that night,
thinking of ships, and watching the constellations on their voyage.

On the following day, September 13, a large four-masted ship passed
some distance to windward, heading north.

The sloop was now rapidly drawing toward the region of doldrums,
and the force of the trade-winds was lessening. I could see by the
ripples that a counter-current had set in. This I estimated to be
about sixteen miles a day. In the heart of the counter-stream the
rate was more than that setting eastward.

September 14 a lofty three-masted ship, heading north, was seen
from the masthead. Neither this ship nor the one seen yesterday was
within signal distance, yet it was good even to see them. On the
following day heavy rain-clouds rose in the south, obscuring the
sun; this was ominous of doldrums. On the 16th the Spray entered
this gloomy region, to battle with squalls and to be harassed by
fitful calms; for this is the state of the elements between the
northeast and the southeast trades, where each wind, struggling in
turn for mastery, expends its force whirling about in all
directions. Making this still more trying to one's nerve and
patience, the sea was tossed into confused cross-lumps and fretted
by eddying currents. As if something more were needed to complete a
sailor's discomfort in this state, the rain poured down in torrents
day and night. The Spray struggled and tossed for ten days, making
only three hundred miles on her course in all that time. I didn't
say anything!

On September 23 the fine schooner Nantasket of Boston, from Bear
River, for the river Plate, lumber-laden, and just through the
doldrums, came up with the Spray , and her captain passing a few
words, she sailed on. Being much fouled on the bottom by shell-
fish, she drew along with her fishes which had been following the
Spray , which was less provided with that sort of food. Fishes will
always follow a foul ship. A barnacle-grown log adrift has the same
attraction for deep-sea fishes. One of this little school of
deserters was a dolphin that had followed the Spray about a
thousand miles, and had been content to eat scraps of food thrown
overboard from my table; for, having been wounded, it could not
dart through the sea to prey on other fishes. I had become
accustomed to seeing the dolphin, which I knew by its scars, and
missed it whenever it took occasional excursions away from the
sloop. One day, after it had been off some hours, it returned in
company with three yellowtails, a sort of cousin to the dolphin.
This little school kept together, except when in danger and when
foraging about the sea. Their lives were often threatened by hungry
sharks that came round the vessel, and more than once they had
narrow escapes. Their mode of escape interested me greatly, and I
passed hours watching them. They would dart away, each in a
different direction, so that the wolf of the sea, the shark,
pursuing one, would be led away from the others; then after a while
they would all return and rendezvous under one side or the other of
the sloop. Twice their pursuers were diverted by a tin pan, which I
towed astern of the sloop, and which was mistaken for a bright
fish; and while turning, in the peculiar way that sharks have when
about to devour their prey, I shot them through the head.

Their precarious life seemed to concern the yellowtails very
little, if at all. All living beings, without doubt, are afraid of
death. Nevertheless, some of the species I saw huddle together as
though they knew they were created for the larger fishes, and
wished to give the least possible trouble to their captors. I have
seen, on the other hand, whales swimming in a circle around a
school of herrings, and with mighty exertion "bunching" them
together in a whirlpool set in motion by their flukes, and when the
small fry were all whirled nicely together, one or the other of the
leviathans, lunging through the center with open jaws, take in a
boat-load or so at a single mouthful. Off the Cape of Good Hope I
saw schools of sardines or other small fish being treated in this
way by great numbers of cavally-fish. There was not the slightest
chance of escape for the sardines, while the cavally circled round
and round, feeding from the edge of the mass. It was interesting to
note how rapidly the small fry disappeared; and though it was
repeated before my eyes over and over, I could hardly perceive the
capture of a single sardine, so dexterously was it done.

Along the equatorial limit of the southeast trade winds the air was
heavily charged with electricity, and there was much thunder and
lightning. It was hereabout I remembered that, a few years before,
the American ship Alert was destroyed by lightning. Her people, by
wonderful good fortune, were rescued on the same day and brought to
Pernambuco, where I then met them.

On September 25, in the latitude of 5 degrees N., longitude 26
degrees 30' W., I spoke the ship North Star of London. The great
ship was out forty-eight days from Norfolk, Virginia, and was bound
for Rio, where we met again about two months later. The Spray was
now thirty days from Gibraltar.

The Spray's next companion of the voyage was a swordfish, that swam
alongside, showing its tall fin out of the water, till I made a
stir for my harpoon, when it hauled its black flag down and
disappeared. September 30, at half-past eleven in the morning, the
Spray crossed the equator in longitude 29 degrees 30' W. At noon
she was two miles south of the line. The southeast trade-winds,
met, rather light, in about 4 degrees N., gave her sails now a
stiff full sending her handsomely over the sea toward the coast of
Brazil, where on October 5, just north of Olinda Point, without
further incident, she made the land, casting anchor in Pernambuco
harbor about noon: forty days from Gibraltar, and all well on
board. Did I tire of the voyage in all that time? Not a bit of it!
I was never in better trim in all my life, and was eager for the
more perilous experience of rounding the Horn.

It was not at all strange in a life common to sailors that, having
already crossed the Atlantic twice and being now half-way from
Boston to the Horn, I should find myself still among friends. My
determination to sail westward from Gibraltar not only enabled me
to escape the pirates of the Red Sea, but, in bringing me to
Pernambuco, landed me on familiar shores. I had made many voyages
to this and other ports in Brazil. In 1893 I was employed as master
to take the famous Ericsson ship Destroyer from New York to Brazil
to go against the rebel Mello and his party. The Destroyer , by the
way, carried a submarine cannon of enormous length.

In the same expedition went the Nictheroy , the ship purchased by
the United States government during the Spanish war and renamed the
Buffalo . The Destroyer was in many ways the better ship of the
two, but the Brazilians in their curious war sank her themselves at
Bahia. With her sank my hope of recovering wages due me; still, I
could but try to recover, for to me it meant a great deal. But now
within two years the whirligig of time had brought the Mello party
into power, and although it was the legal government which had
employed me, the so-called "rebels" felt under less obligation to
me than I could have wished.

During these visits to Brazil I had made the acquaintance of Dr.
Perera, owner and editor of "El Commercio Jornal," and soon after
the Spray was safely moored in Upper Topsail Reach, the doctor, who
is a very enthusiastic yachtsman, came to pay me a visit and to
carry me up the waterway of the lagoon to his country residence.
The approach to his mansion by the waterside was guarded by his
armada, a fleet of boats including a Chinese sampan, a Norwegian
pram, and a Cape Ann dory, the last of which he obtained from the
Destroyer . The doctor dined me often on good Brazilian fare, that
I might, as he said, "salle gordo" for the voyage; but he found
that even on the best I fattened slowly.

Fruits and vegetables and all other provisions necessary for the
voyage having been taken in, on the 23d of October I unmoored and
made ready for sea. Here I encountered one of the unforgiving Mello
faction in the person of the collector of customs, who charged the
Spray tonnage dues when she cleared, notwithstanding that she
sailed with a yacht license and should have been exempt from port
charges. Our consul reminded the collector of this and of the fact -
without much diplomacy, I thought - that it was I who brought the
Destroyer to Brazil. "Oh, yes," said the bland collector; "we
remember it very well," for it was now in a small way his turn.

Mr. Lungrin, a merchant, to help me out of the trifling difficulty,
offered to freight the Spray with a cargo of gunpowder for Bahia,
which would have put me in funds; and when the insurance companies
refused to take the risk on cargo shipped on a vessel manned by a
crew of only one, he offered to ship it without insurance, taking
all the risk himself. This was perhaps paying me a greater
compliment than I deserved. The reason why I did not accept the
business was that in so doing I found that I should vitiate my
yacht license and run into more expense for harbor dues around the
world than the freight would amount to. Instead of all this,
another old merchant friend came to my assistance, advancing the
cash direct.

While at Pernambuco I shortened the boom, which had been broken
when off the coast of Morocco, by removing the broken piece, which
took about four feet off the inboard end; I also refitted the jaws.
On October 24,1895, a fine day even as days go in Brazil, the Spray
sailed, having had abundant good cheer. Making about one hundred
miles a day along the coast, I arrived at Rio de Janeiro November
5, without any event worth mentioning, and about noon cast anchor
near Villaganon, to await the official port visit. On the following
day I bestirred myself to meet the highest lord of the admiralty
and the ministers, to inquire concerning the matter of wages due me
from the beloved Destroyer . The high official I met said:
"Captain, so far as we are concerned, you may have the ship, and if
you care to accept her we will send an officer to show you where
she is." I knew well enough where she was at that moment. The top
of her smoke-stack being awash in Bahia, it was more than likely
that she rested on the bottom there. I thanked the kind officer,
but declined his offer.

The Spray , with a number of old shipmasters on board, sailed about
the harbor of Rio the day before she put to sea. As I had decided
to give the Spray a yawl rig for the tempestuous waters of
Patagonia, I here placed on the stern a semicircular brace to
support a jigger mast. These old captains inspected the Spray's
rigging, and each one contributed something to her outfit. Captain
Jones, who had acted as my interpreter at Rio, gave her an anchor,
and one of the steamers gave her a cable to match it. She never
dragged Jones's anchor once on the voyage, and the cable not only
stood the strain on a lee shore, but when towed off Cape Horn
helped break combing seas astern that threatened to board her.

To succeed, however, in anything at all, one should go
understandingly about his work and be prepared for every emergency.
I see, as I look back over my own small achievement, a kit of not
too elaborate carpenters' tools, a tin clock, and some carpet-
tacks, not a great many, to facilitate the enterprise as already
mentioned in the story. But above all to be taken into account were
some years of schooling, where I studied with diligence Neptune's
laws, and these laws I tried to obey when I sailed overseas; it was
worth the while. And now, without having wearied my friends, I
hope, with detailed scientific accounts, theories, or deductions, I
will only say that I have endeavored to tell just the story of the
adventure itself. This, in my own poor way, having been done, I now
moor ship, weather-bitt cables, and leave the sloop Spray, for the
present, safe in port.

One day you will work out why you have been sent this.

THE END


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