YUBA COUNTY
GENEALOGICAL NUGGETS
Round Cape Horn :
voyage of the passenger-ship James W. Paige, from Maine to California in the year 1852;
BY J. LAMSON.
BANGOR:
PRESS OF O. F. & W. H. KNOWLES.
1878
CHAPTER XII.
AUGUST 24. Our voyage is becoming prolonged to an excessively wearisome
duration. More than a month ago we calculated on arriving at San Francisco in
ten days; and with a fair wind we could have performed the voyage in that time.
Now, after having trebled it, we seem as far from port as ever. During the last
fortnight the winds have been blowing from the northeast, and we have sailed
sharp on the wind, in expectation of falling in with the north-west trades,
which are said to prevail in these latitudes. But we have not yet found them. We
are now about nine hundred miles west of the coast of California, and in a
latitude only four degrees north of that of San Francisco. We have not seen a
sail for six weeks, and we begin to feel that we are
"Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on the wide, wide sea."
And yet, we are not quite alone. A small number of my friends, the birds, still
hover around us, and accompany us in our wanderings over the deep, even at this
great distance from the land. A few days since an albatross was seen flying near
us. I watched it and soon saw that it was the Dusky Albratross, (Diomedia fusca,)
figured by Audubon from a specimen obtained by Dr. Townsend on the coast of
Oregon. It was soon joined by another and another, and to-day, six or eight of
them are following us.
We suffer much weariness, lassitude, and drowsiness, consequent on our long
voyage and almost total inactivity. One circumstance has operated very favorably
for our comfort. After less than a week of the hot weather of which I have
spoken, there came a sudden and most agreeable change. The sky became obscured
with clouds, and has remained so the greater part of the time since, and the air
grew cooler, so much so that our overcoats became necessary, and the passengers,
who had been driven from the main cabin, were enabled to return to their berths
again.
August 27. Our first inquiry this morning was the same we have often and
anxiously made of late, "How does she head?" And the same answer we have
received for the last fortnight was given, "About north-west." The wind,
however, was light, and we were not quite hopeless of a change. An hour or two
was passed in watching the signs, for the weather had become very unsteady--when
we heard from the captain, who had taken the helm, the order, "Ready, 'bout."
The sound was most cheering. We had been standing on one course for a long time
without making any approach towards our destined port, but rather going farther
from it, and striving the while to gain a position, or rather, a wind, that
would carry us in. And this intention of tacking ship was an indication of the
captain's opinion, that the favorable moment had arrived. The sailors stationed
themselves at the proper ropes, and the mate responded, "All ready, sir." "Hard
a-lee!" sung out the captain, as he put down the helm, and brought the ship into
the wind, the sails shivering and flapping with considerable violence.
Presently they began to fill on the other side, when he gave the order, "Maintop
sail haul," and instantly the ropes rattled through the blocks, and the main
sail, main-top sail and maintop-gallant sail swung steadily and at once round
the masts to the other side of the ship. Soon the order, "Let go and haul," was
given, when the foresails were swung into their proper positions, and we were
sailing on our course for San Francisco.
Tacking ship is a beautiful evolution, and it is for that reason that I have
described it, using in this instance the necessary nautical terms, though I have
generally endeavored to avoid them. It is also a performance requiring some
little skill and practice. Our mate on one occasion made three attempts to tack,
and failed, and was obliged at last to "wear ship," that is, to turn the ship
round with the wind, thereby losing considerable ground. This is considered an
unseamanlike maneuver, and it subjected our mate to some ridicule among the
sailors.
The indications of a favorable wind did not continue long, and in less than half
an hour we were obliged to put about again, and stand on our old course. In this
manner it continued for several days, veering from point to point, between
north-east and south-west, and forcing us continually to change the course of
the ship, while we made very little progress towards port.
The Dusky Albatrosses became very familiar, and Sherman drew one of them on
deck, but the captain followed it closely round the ship, and at last ordered it
to be thrown overboard.
For the information of those who are not familiar with the science of
ornithology, and who may be curious to know how we could draw large birds into
the ship with it hook and line without injuring them, I will say, that the upper
mandible of many of these birds is recurved or bent downwards beyond the lower
mandible, forming a hook sufficiently strong to hold the weight of the bird, and
the fish-hook catches it by this curved beak as it seizes the bait. The hook
does not penetrate the beak, but its sharp point prevents it slipping off so
long as the bird holds back.
Our mate amuses himself with drawing coarse caricatures of the passengers; and
they in turn retaliate by writing doggerel verses on the mate. This leads me to
say that one of our sailors has turned out to be a poet, and if there is any
thing in a name that entitles a man to this honor, his claim is certainly good.
His name is James Montgomery. His verses, though not quite equal to those by the
author of the "Wanderer of Switzerland," are not altogether destitute of poetic
merit; and had he an opportunity to cultivate his talent, he would probably
learn to write poetry. The mate, unable to write himself, offered Montgomery a
dollar to write a lampoon on one of the passengers. But he scorned to do so
dirty a job for such a paltry bribe, or for so low a fellow.
September 1. We have at last got a fair wind, and during the whole day sailed
directly on our course without tacking. Our spirits begin to revive, and we are
not quite hopeless of reaching port.
September 3. Fair winds continue to favor us, and we are within four hundred
miles of California. A very few days will, in all probability, find us on terra
firma again, when we shall part, many of us to meet no more. I would that these
few remaining days might be spent in peace and harmony among us. But fate orders
it otherwise. My enemies, the captain and mate, since the treacherous disclosure
made by the chaplain, have been growing more and more acrimonious in their
hatred, and they seldom omit an opportunity to insult me. An instance occurred
this evening. But I forbear.
Sherman caught a porpoise last night, and cooked a portion of it to-day. We ate
it rather greedily, and all thought it excellent. Our long voyage, coarse fare,
and frequent hunger, have relieved us of many fastidious whims about food, and
we have learned to eat and to relish some things, which it would be difficult
for us to swallow at home. These porpoises throw out a sort of phosphorescent
light, by which they are readily seen in the night. This one was taken at nine
o'clock of a cloudy evening.
September 4. A fight occurred at breakfast in the main cabin between an Irishman
of fifty-nine, the oldest man in the ship, and an American, not much his junior.
The Yankee received a cut on the ear with a case-knife, and he knocked down his
antagonist and gave him some severe bruises. Our ship is becoming a miniature
pandemonium.
My journal has become a source of much disquietude to Captain J. and Mrs. L---t.
It has excited some interest among the passengers, and I have been repeatedly
requested to publish an account of the voyage. I refused at first, but after
many solicitations I so far yielded as to promise that if I had time to revise
my journal after our arrival at San Francisco, I would publish it. A
subscription was immediately got up, and one hundred and twenty copies
subscribed for. The captain and Mr. Johnson exerted all their influence to
prevent the passengers from putting their names to the paper, but they had the
mortification to find that their opposition only tended to increase the
subscription. Mr. Johnson made himself particularly busy in the matter. He urged
me to read my manuscript to the ship's company. Not that he felt any personal
interest in it, O, no! But he thought that justice to Captain Jackson, whose
character I had assailed, and to the passengers, who knew not what they were
subscribing for, required me to read it. I did not.
Hints had been repeatedly given me, that the captain intended to seize the
obnoxious manuscript. Consultations had been held upon the subject, and it was
stated--and I have no doubt of the fact--that Mr. Johnson had expressed the
opinion, that the captain was fully authorized by law to break open my trunk,
and seize it. Uncertain as to what these ignorant madmen might be tempted to do,
I deposited the journal with a friend in the main cabin, where it remained till
I left the ship.
September 5. This is the last Sabbath we expect to spend on board the bark, and
as we expect to separate in two or three days, a meeting was held in the main
cabin, the object of which was to settle disputes And restore harmony between
the officers and passengers.
It proved, however, a failure. Several short addresses were made, one by the
captain in a spirit of defiance, and one by Mr. Johnson, defending his career on
board the bark; a prayer was offered, and a parting hymn sung, and we broke up
with very little change of feeling.
Immense schools of porpoises passed to-day, and Sherman struck and secured one
of the largest we have seen. Many of the men have employed themselves in
preparing the skin for belts. A whale passed us in the afternoon, coming close
along-side the bark. And to keep up the excitement, a sail was discovered on our
starboard bow, the only one we have seen for fifty-three days.
September 6. We were aroused this morning at four o'clock by the startling cry
of "breakers." Our ship instantly became a scene of confusion, and the
passengers rushed on deck from every quarter. I arose at the first cry and went
out. And there, within fifteen or twenty rods lay the land, the sea roaring
loudly, and breaking in foaming surges on the shore. The helm had been put down,
and fortunately the ship came round in season to escape.
A minute's delay would have wrecked us. Or had the ship missed coming in stays,
as she has often done during the voyage, nothing could have saved her. There was
at the time a thick fog, which accounts for our near approach to the breakers
before they were discovered. The sailor on the lookout heard the roaring of the
breakers for some time before he discovered them, but attributed it to some
other cause; for according to the captain's reckoning we were still far from
land. Nothing could be more cheering after our long voyage than to behold the
land of our destination, but this sudden introduction to it was any thing but
agreeable.
And now having escaped the perils of shipwreck, and hoping to arrive in port
to-day, we are closing our voyage with an act of charity to our
fellow-passenger, Dolliff, who, though convalescent, is still unable to support
himself. A considerable sum, is being raised for him.