CHAPTER XVIII.
Island of St. Catherine.
June 7th.—The tedium of the long stay of the Congress at Montevideo was relieved once, by a cruise of three weeks off the Plata. The chief object in this, was to exercise the crew at the sails and in working ship, and to give practice at sea with the great guns and small arms. The effect of the change was good, both morally and physically. The vicinity of a port, so free to dissipation as Montevideo, is demoralizing both to officers and men; and it is well, as Commodore McKeever remarked to me in speaking on the subject, occasionally at least to put the broad sea between the ship and the seductions of the shore.
On the 22d ult. we again set sail for this place. The island lies closely on the coast about midway between the Plata and Rio de Janeiro. It is twenty-eight miles long, from four to eight wide, and is separated from the main by a narrow and irregular strait, varying in breadth from one and two, to three and more miles. It was settled earlier than any part of the continent in this section, and gives name to the province on the main opposite, within whose boundaries it is included. Its harbor is one of the best in the Empire, and was once a great resort for shipping, especially for refreshment and repairs by those engaged in the whale fishery. The principal town, called Nossa Senhora do Desterro, or “Our Lady of Banishment or Exile,” containing a population of eight or ten thousand inhabitants, is the capital of the province and the residence of its President.
On the morning of the 2d inst., the island, overtopped by the loftier mountains of the main, was in view at a distance of thirty miles; and coasting along it we entered the straits and came to anchor by nightfall. The land is broken and lofty, and beautifully verdant: the eastern shores next the sea presenting, as we sailed along them, alternate stretches of white sand beach and projecting promontories of rocks crowned with woods. There is not a sufficient depth of water for a frigate to pass through the channel, and the entrance for large ships is by the north end of the island. It is winding, and with the mountains of the island and the main on either side, presents the features of a magnificent harbor rather than the appearance of an arm of the sea. We were delighted with the varied outlines and general beauty of the whole, in contrast with the scenery of the Plata, though but few evidences of civilization are visible; a small habitation here and there along the shore, being the only indications of the presence of man.
The next morning the whole surface of the water, glassy as a mirror, was dotted two or three miles south of us with the canoes of fishermen; their white hats, shirts, and drawers contrasting strongly in the early sun with the black sides of their canoes. We were some miles from the customary anchorage, and the presence of so large a ship as the Congress even, attracted no attention from them, and brought no canoe with the milk and eggs and tropical fruits for which we were longing. Soon after breakfast we ran some miles further south to our present anchorage just inside of two forts, one—that of San José—on the island, and the other—that of Santa Cruz—on an islet of the same name near the main. The panorama surrounding us is truly beautiful—approaching, in some respects, even that of Rio de Janeiro, though less wild and sublime in outline. The lofty and massive mountains on the main, jutting down to the water in bold promontories, indent the shore with little white-beached coves whose overhanging cliffs are crested with palm-trees and festooned with creepers. The white dwellings of the inhabitants, sprinkled along the shore, and the checkered cultivation of the uplands behind, combine in furnishing attractive imagery to the eye and associations of rural comfort and simplicity to the heart. The symmetrical outlines of the old fortresses on either side, and their moss-covered and grass-tufted parapets and ramparts, give an air of antiquity to some points of the scene, while the primitive canoe of the aborigines, under paddle or rude sail on the water, tells us significantly of a state of semi-civilization only. With the brightly gleaming sun of the morning, there was a freshness and elasticity of atmosphere, welcome and most exhilarating.
The present acting American consul of St. Catherine resides at Santa Cruz, the name of the anchorage at which we are. His name is Cathcart, formerly the master of an American whale-ship, but now long a resident of this part of Brazil, where he married a native of the country, and has a family of children, and extensive possessions in lands and slaves.
His residence is nearly abreast of us on the main, a mile or more distant. It is situated on an elevated platform above the beach, in a beautiful little cove, with a glen in the rear: the whole overhung by a wooded mountain. I availed myself of the first opportunity of visiting the shore, and accompanied Purser W—— and Lieut. R—— who went on duty. Mr. Cathcart was on the beach to receive us and conduct us to his house. With the exception of this structure—which is of stone, stuccoed, and whitewashed, and roofed with tile—every thing here, in general aspect, is so like the South Seas, that I felt as if suddenly transported there, and again amidst the scenes and places so familiar and so dear to me twenty years ago. The palm-tree, tossing its plumed branches in the wind, the broad leaves of the banana rustling in the breeze, the perfume of the orange blossoms and cape jessamine, the sugar cane and coffee plant, the cotton bush, the palma christi and guava—the light canoe upon the water, and the rude huts dotting the shore—all hurried me in imagination to the Marquesas, the Society and the Sandwich Islands.
As the Consul proposed returning to the ship with us our stay was but short. I, however, accomplished my purpose of a ramble for half an hour. This I found quite sufficient for the time. The hills descend so abruptly at all points to the water, and are so furrowed with ravines, that one can proceed scarcely a hundred rods in any direction along the shore, without making ascents and descents of such steepness, as soon to induce fatigue, and make a short walk go far in point of exercise.