SAILING ALONE AROUND THE WORLD (completed=10+3)

[Cap'n Josh 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 - Eight foolish counsellors

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 splurge 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 snapper 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

But 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.

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 120 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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