The Sufferings and Escape of Capt. Chas. H. Brown From an Awful Imprisonment by Chilian Convicts

by captain of the bark Florida Charles H. Brown

The evening being calm, the sea breeze having died away, and no appearance of the land breeze springing up, I asked the captain of the port, to whom the regulation of all the shipping in the harbor belongs, for the assistance of two boats from the Chilian man-of-war which was lying in the harbor at the time, to tow my vessel out to sea. They were sent, and assisted us till midnight, when a land breeze springing up, they left us, and returned to the harbor.

I had made every preparation to insure order and security during the voyage, had mounted two of the four pounders upon the poop deck, pointing forward so as to rake the whole deck, and kept them constantly loaded. The prisoners, about eighty in number, were put into the hold of the vessel, and were only allowed to come on deck for air and refreshment, in small detachments. A sentinel was stationed at the gangway, and the deck was constantly guarded by seven soldiers and half my crew. The crew consisted of eight men before the mast, part Americans and part foreigners, first and second mate, cook, and cabin boy. Mr. Shaw, Captain Avalos, Mr. Buela, the first and second mates, and myself shared the cabin.

The wind continued light until the afternoon of Monday, the 4th, when a fresh breeze sprung up from the south-west, right ahead: which head wind and rough sea continued through the first part of our voyage. Our little vessel was a fast sailer, but with these obstacles in our way, we made but slow progress, and our passengers began to feel the tediousness of a sea voyage. For my part, my responsibility was too heavy, and my avocations somewhat too numerous, for time to hang heavily upon my hands, for my officers were neither very efficient or entirely to be depended upon.

My anxieties and responsibilities were increased when we were some days out, by the sickness of Mr. Shaw, who was seized with a relapse of the Panama fever. My relation to Mr. Shaw was something more than the mere business connection between the owner and master of a vessel. We had been thrown together very closely, and I had always found him ready and prompt with advice and sympathy in every difficulty that might arise, and most considerate in all business arrangements. We were Americans, from the same State, away from our families and friends, and bound together by many common subjects of interest; subjects which grow in importance when men are far away from their homes. His sickness, where so little could be done for his comfort, was a source of considerable anxiety to me, and deprived me of almost all society, for Captain Avalos talked very little English.

We had been out about a fortnight, when, as Captain Avalos and myself were sitting in the cabin, we were startled by word being brought from the sentinel at the gangway, that one of the prisoners had informed him that there had been a proposition among the prisoners to rise and take the vessel.

I sprang upon the deck and called up all hands, while Captain Avalos ordered up the soldiers who were not on duty. The soldiers were all under arms, and the captain proved himself soldier-like and efficient in any emergency; for his first order was, that in case of any disturbance among the prisoners, the first man that made his appearance was to be shot down. We waited in some anxiety, but all was quiet; then, ordering the soldiers and the crew to remain on their guard, Captain Avalos and myself went to the gangway and inquired into the cause of the alarm. It seems that the proposition to take the vessel had been made by one of the prisoners,—one of those confined for political offences. His plan had probably been to run the vessel into land, and join General Cruz and the revolutionary party in the province of Conception; but few of the prisoners were ready to join him, and one of them had found an opportunity to communicate the design to the sentinel at the gangway.

We had no further difficulty, and I was glad that this little disturbance had occurred, as it gave me confidence in the promptitude and courage of my own crew, and in the presence of mind and soldier-like character of Captain Avalos.

On the morning of November 24th, the weather was thick and foggy, and the running became difficult. I run till about eleven o’clock, and then, judging myself near the western entrance of the Straits, I hove the main-top-sail aback, waiting for clear weather, so that I could see land. At twelve, the sun came out, clear and glorious, and I found myself within ten miles of the entrance, Cape Pillar bearing east from us. Mr. Shaw and myself congratulated each other on being near the end of the disagreeable part of our voyage, for there was something repugnant to us, in the idea of standing jailors, as it were, to men for some of whom our sympathies were enlisted; for the freedom of our political institutions makes the idea of imprisonment for political offences repulsive to an American; and, indeed, no free man likes to stand jailor to another, be his offences what they may.

We were, however, not so near our destination as we supposed, for the weather continued very much against us. I put the vessel before the wind, intending that afternoon to anchor in the harbor of Mercy, but on account of the thick, squally weather, I was unable to make the harbor, and ran past the entrance, which is so small that it may easily be overlooked. I was therefore obliged to run all night, and as the wind was blowing fresh, and the weather thick, I took in sail, and put her under double-reefed top-sails. At daylight on the morning of the 25th, I set all sail, and during the day we had a fine, pleasant breeze from the westward. In the evening, not being able to make a harbor, we hove-to, for the night, a short distance from Cape Froward, a high point of land within the Straits. These high lands I had learned to dread, as from off them, and out of the valley come fresh, fitful winds, called by the Indians “williwaws,” blowing sometimes with such violence as to take the masts out of vessels. These williwaws give you no warning, when your vessel is near shore, and require constant watchfulness.

The morning of the 26th broke, however, with a light breeze from the west, under favor of which I run along the shore until noon, when the wind suddenly canted to the northward, and blew so fresh and hard that at 3. P. M., the main-top-sail split, and we were obliged to reef it. At six in the afternoon we were glad to drop anchor in Sandy Bay, and to give notice of our arrival by a salute of two guns, which was answered from the shore.