The Travels, Adventures, and Experiences of Thomas Trotter.
(Continued from page 47.)
CHAPTER II.
A Wreck at Sea.—Mother Carey’s Chickens.—A Gale of Wind.—Singular Phenomenon of the Corpo Santo.—Arrival at the Straits of Gibraltar.—Wonderful Fortifications of that place.
When we had sailed about half way across the Atlantic, we fell in with the wreck of a vessel. All her masts were gone, and the sea was breaking over her in every part. We could not discover her name, nor to what nation she belonged. When a ship meets with a wreck at sea, it is customary to set the wrecked vessel on fire, or blow her up with gunpowder, lest any other vessel should run foul of her in the night; a casualty which has caused the destruction of many ships, that have never been heard of afterwards. The wreck we met with lay so low in the water that we found it impossible to get at her for this purpose. So the most we could do was steer clear of her. She was surrounded by a great shoal of black-fish.
Now and then the solitude of the ocean was enlivened by the sight of a little dark-colored bird, about the size of a swallow, called the Stormy Petrel, but among sailors known by the name of Mother Carey’s Chicken. These birds are met with in every part of the ocean, thousands of miles from the land. They fly very swiftly, and come fluttering about the ship, but seldom light on the rigging or deck. The sailors have many superstitious notions concerning them, and always look out for a storm after their appearance; but I never found there was any dependence to be placed on such prognostications. They believe also that these birds never set foot on land, that they lay their eggs at sea, and hatch them under their wings. But these stories are all fables. The petrels lay their eggs on the shore, among the rocks and sand. Their nests are often found in the Bahama Islands.
We had now got about two thirds of the way across the ocean, when the wind died away, and we lay two or three days becalmed. The sea was as quiet as a mill-pond, and as smooth as glass. The captain did nothing but fret and fidget, for the master of a ship cannot endure any delay on his voyage. About the third day there rose a heavy swell of the sea, which caused the vessel to roll from side to side in a manner most uncomfortable to us all. I was surprised at this, as there was no wind to agitate the water; but the captain informed me that when a gale of wind is approaching, the swell always comes before the wind. He now told us to look out for a heavy blow. The mercury in the barometer had fallen suddenly, which is a pretty sure indication of a storm at hand. By-and-by, a mass of thick, heavy clouds began to rise in the west, and soon the heavens were completely overspread. The surface of the water quickly became agitated by ripples, and the swell increased. The wind now began to snuffle, then to blow in heavy gusts and sing through the cordage in a most alarming style. We close-reefed the topsails and scudded before it. The gale came on harder and harder, and the seas rolled around us in a most terrific manner. Now and then the crest of a mountainous wave would dash over the stern and sweep the deck fore and aft. At such times the sailors were obliged to cling fast to the spars and rigging, to save themselves from being washed overboard.
In the midst of the gale I was astonished at the sight of a wonderful flame of fire that came hovering round the ship. It was a bright, thin, quivering mass of light, as big as a man’s head, somewhat like the sun when seen through a fog or thin haze. From what quarter it came I could not discern—whether from the clouds or the sea, but the captain said it appeared to gather in the air. It hovered over us for some minutes, and then settled on one of the lifts or ropes which sustain the upper yards. There it remained two or three minutes, after which it glided down the stay to the bowsprit, and then disappeared. I must confess I was greatly amazed at this strange phenomenon, which, happening in the midst of a terrible storm, was certainly enough to frighten any common person. The captain, however, told me not to be alarmed, for such appearances, though not very common, were yet too well known at sea to cause any fear to an experienced mariner. This strange luminous body is called by the sailors a corposant, a corruption of the Portuguese words corpo santo, “holy body.” It is a sort of meteor, engendered probably from electrical matter in the air, and never appears but in heavy gales of wind. Sometimes two of them appear together. After their disappearance, the sailors believe the strength of the gale to be broken. In fact, within an hour after the appearance of this, which I saw, the wind began to lull, and ere long subsided to a moderate breeze, so that we considered ourselves out of danger, and stood on our course.
About a week after this, just as I had waked in the morning, I was aroused by the cry of “Land!” I ran upon deck, and saw what no man can see for the first time without feelings of indescribable enthusiasm—the shores of the old world! We were directly abreast of the straits of Gibraltar. Europe and Africa lay before me, and the sun was rising behind the lofty ridge of the Atlas mountains. Were I to live a thousand years, I should never forget this moment, nor the overpowering emotions that took possession of me at the sight. Few prospects in the world can be more imposing. The stern and craggy cliffs of the Spanish coast; the towering wood-crowned peaks of the African mountains; the noble strait that separates these two famous quarters of the globe; and the grand and interesting historical recollections connected with the spot—all combine to fill the mind of the spectator with the most thrilling emotions. Long did I gaze on the noble scene without the power to utter a word, as the sun broke from the mass of rich blue clouds that hung round the head of Mount Atlas, and poured his golden light on the shaggy masses of forest in Africa and the rugged and frowning cliffs of Spain. To see such a prospect once is an epoch in a man’s life; the vivid and overpowering feelings of the moment are never to be experienced a second time.
As we sailed up the strait, I had leisure to view the shore on both sides by the help of a telescope. The Spanish coast is rocky, and generally barren, but in many spots I was able to discern little patches of green cultivation, scattered about in the valleys between the dark rock. The African shore is almost entirely covered with woods up to the mountain-tops. Here and there I could see a wreath of white smoke slowly curling upward from the thick woods. These were made by the Moors, who were stripping the cork trees of their bark. Farther up the strait, we came in sight of the famous fortress of Gibraltar. It is an enormous rock, connected with the Spanish shore by a low, flat beach. The rock is cut and tunnelled into immensely long caverns and galleries, with embrasures for cannon, and is fortified in every part so strongly as to be considered impregnable. It was taken from the Spaniards by the English, more than a century ago, but at that time it was very poorly fortified. The English, finding it so well situated for guarding the entrance of the strait, expended vast sums of money in strengthening it, and would never give it up to the Spaniards. It has sustained many hard sieges since that period, but has hitherto resisted every attack. There is always a strong garrison of troops kept here, and the harbor is a regular station for ships of war. A considerable town has grown up near the rock, and a good deal of trade is carried on by the merchants of Gibraltar. Vessels from all the Mediterranean ports bring their goods to this place, and American vessels carry the productions of our continent to exchange for them; so that an establishment designed at first only for a military fortress, has become a flourishing commercial mart.
Boston vessels commonly carry to Gibraltar cargoes of flour, tobacco, coffee, tar, pipe-staves, &c., and take the Spanish wines and fruits in return. Sometimes, after disposing of their cargoes at Gibraltar, they take in ballast and sail for the Cape Verd Islands, where they load with salt and return home.
CHAPTER III.
Voyage along the coast of Spain.—Prospect of Sicily.—Account of an Island thrown up from the bottom of the sea by a Volcano.—Arrival at Malta.—Quarantine Regulations.
Though we had been quite alone on the Atlantic, yet as soon as we entered the Mediterranean we found ourselves in company with a large fleet of vessels. We had a fair wind up the strait, and kept along with our companions for two or three days; but as the strait grew wider, and at length expanded into the broad Mediterranean sea, these vessels dispersed towards their several ports of destination. We sailed along the Spanish coast for nearly a week, and found the landscape everywhere picturesque and striking. The shore is high and abrupt at first; farther onward it rises into lofty mountains. Here the scenery became truly grand and sublime. It was mid-winter, and the mountains of Granada were covered with snow. A lofty ridge, called the Sierra Nevada, runs parallel to the shore, and rises to the height of 11,000 feet. At this time it presented a most noble sight—an immense wall of snow, glistening in the bright sunshine and towering up to the clouds.
Winds are commonly regulated by the direction of the shores, especially where the coasts are mountainous. At Cape de Gatt, where the coast makes a sudden bend to the north, a change of wind is always expected by vessels sailing up the Mediterranean; and so it happened with us. The fair breeze from the west, which had hitherto driven us on our course, now shifted to a strong easterly breeze, directly in our teeth. We had also a short chopping sea, peculiar to the Mediterranean, which brings on sea-sickness to one coming from the Atlantic, although the waves of the Mediterranean never rise so high as the Atlantic billows. We beat against the wind some days, till at length it sprung up astern again, when we ran before it till we came in sight of the island of Sicily.
We found the mountains of Sicily, like those of Spain, covered with snow; and considering the bleak wintry prospect which the country offered at the distance from which we viewed it, we never should have guessed that the gardens were full of green trees, bending under the weight of ripe oranges. This however was the fact, as we afterwards discovered. In steering from this quarter towards Malta, we sailed over the spot where a volcanic island suddenly rose up from the bottom of the sea a few years ago; a surprising phenomenon, of which the reader may like to hear a short account.
This part of the Mediterranean is known to abound in subterranean fires. Ætna is always burning; the Lipari islands contain volcanoes, and Vesuvius, with its terrible eruptions, has long been familiar to every reader. This whole region, both land and sea, probably rests on an immense bed of fire. Wherever this fire can get vent, it breaks out; the Lipari islands all present the appearance of having been formed in this manner. On the south coast of Sicily, the inhabitants were surprised one day to behold tremendous flames of fire breaking out of the sea in a spot where the water was known to be very deep. This alarming eruption continued for several days, with dreadful explosions, like the discharges of artillery, and showers of ashes and thick columns of smoke that obscured the light of the sun. When the eruption had partially subsided, a considerably large island was found to have emerged from the bottom of the sea. It continued smoking for many days, and at length several persons had the courage to venture off in small vessels, and land upon it. They found it to consist of black scoriæ, cinders and ashes, the substances which are commonly ejected from volcanoes. Pools of hot water stood here and there in the cavities of the surface; great heaps of dead fishes were scattered about, and the smoke of sulphur was steaming up from the hollows and crevices that abounded in the island. Such was the singular appearance of a spot that rose up from the sea, as it were out of the bowels of the earth. It would have been hazardous for a man to take up his permanent abode on this newly-formed territory, and we do not find that any one had the inclination to make any long stay on the spot. After standing a few months, the new island sunk as suddenly as it rose, and the sea over it appears to be as deep as ever.
A Volcanic Island thrown up from the Sea.
The little island of Gozo now came in sight ahead, warning us that we were approaching our port. At day-break we saw the island of Malta, and ran for the western extremity, after which we stood along the northern coast for the harbor of Valette. The island appeared of a moderate height, but I could hardly discern a tree or any marks of cultivation. Watch-towers at regular intervals along the shore, and some rude structures in the interior, were all that appeared to diversify the landscape. As we approached the harbor, we discovered a fleet of small boats putting off to meet us, and we were soon surrounded by them. The men were a wild-looking set, tawny and stout, wearing brown woollen caps that hung down over their shoulders. They rowed standing, instead of sitting, as our boatmen do. The boats were very neatly built, of olivewood, with high and ornamented prows. They were painted of a bright vermilion in the bows, and it is remarkable that Homer describes the ancient Grecian ships as painted in the same manner. A loud clamor and hubbub of voices now rose around us. All the boatmen had some service to offer. One offered a pilot, another offered to tow us into the harbor, which is highly necessary here, on account of the narrowness of the entrance. Others were ready to supply us with fresh provisions, fruit, &c., and others wanted our clothes to wash. Every vessel that arrives is beset in the same manner, and the number of persons who depend for a living upon what they get for these services must be quite large.
As we approached the entrance of the harbor, we came suddenly in sight of the city of Valette, with its castle and fortifications. They stand close to the sea, and burst upon the spectator before he is aware. We were much struck with their noble and commanding appearance—and the bells of the city chiming merrily at the time, the agreeable sensations they inspired were still further heightened. It was a great mortification to us, however, to find that we were to be subjected to a quarantine of more than a week. For this purpose our vessel was taken into that part of the harbor adjoining the lazaretto, where we were brought to anchor, and treated with a prospect of the shore close at hand without the privilege of setting foot upon it for a week to come.
The quarantine regulations are very troublesome in almost all parts of the Mediterranean. The people in this quarter are always afraid of contagious diseases, particularly the plague, which in former days committed terrible ravages. The quarantine on vessels from the Levant, or the eastern part of the Mediterranean, sometimes lasts for forty days. This restriction, when applied to ships from the United States, is very useless and absurd; yet it is rigidly enforced, for these people have heard that a contagious disease, called the yellow fever, sometimes prevails in America, and as they have little knowledge of geography, they make hardly any distinction between one portion of the western continent and another. The quarantine therefore is laid upon all vessels from America.
We found ourselves in company with fifteen or twenty other vessels performing quarantine, English, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Austrian and Greek. There was an Austrian brig, loaded with beans from Alexandria in Egypt. She had forty days quarantine, and as the weather was rainy and the vessel’s deck leaked, the captain was afraid his cargo would sprout and shoot up into a forest of bean-stalks before he could get it on shore.
It was now the first of February, a season when, by our recollection, the country at home must be covered with snow; yet here we found the fields green, the air soft, and the trees in full foliage. The oranges were just ripening, and the Maltese boatman brought them to us on board for four cents a dozen. The Malta oranges are famed for being the finest in the world, and I must admit that they are worthy of their reputation. The oranges we get in Boston are gathered before they are quite ripe, that they may keep the better; but an orange in full ripeness, fresh plucked from the tree, as far surpasses the imported fruit, as a ripe apple does a green one. We had, besides, dried figs strung upon reeds, somewhat in the manner in which we prepare dried apples. Here I saw for the first time the pomegranate, a fruit larger than an orange, full of little sweet kernels. So we contented ourselves with eating fresh fruit and wishing the quarantine at an end.
(To be continued.)