My crew was to consist of Pollock and the three white sailors.
I put Ted Milner, the boatswain, on Pollock's watch, and took Arthur Cotton on mine. John Wright did the cooking and kept no watch, though he was always ready to lend a hand if necessary.
On Sunday, December 29th, the whale-boat went off to the yacht for another load of stores, so that there might be an ample supply on the island during the absence of the vessel; for it was not possible to foresee how long we should be away.
On Monday, 30th, I returned on board, and, after the two parties had bade each other good-bye and good luck, the whale-boat went off to the shore with a last cargo of provisions. We now got the vessel ready for sea. We unbent the storm-trysail and storm-foresail, and bent the large foresail; being rather short-handed, we left our topmast housed during this voyage.
We did not weigh the anchor until 5 p.m.; we set the whole mainsail, the mizzen, foresail, and second jib. The wind, at first, was exceedingly light, so that we drifted helplessly about for a time, and we did not get clear of the island until after dark. I was thus unable to sail round to the mouth of South-west Bay and satisfy myself that the boat had been safely beached. However, seeing that so many successful landings had been accomplished, I considered it unnecessary to hang about the island until the following daylight, so we shaped our course for Bahia. A moderate wind sprang up in the night and we soon left the island far behind us.
This was a most successful voyage. The wind was from the north-east all the time, right abeam, and therefore as favourable as it could be. There was not quite enough of it, however, and our best day's work was only 154 miles. On one day it was rather squally, and we had to trice up the main tack now and then. The voyage only occupied five days, for we sighted the white sands and the cocoanut groves of the Brazilian coast at 5 p.m. on January 4, and at 7.30 we rounded St. Antonio Point, and entered the bay of Bahia. Here we found that a strong tide was running against us, and, as is usually the case in the gulf at this hour, there was scarcely any wind; so we were compelled to let go our anchor near the light-house. A Newfoundland barque that had followed us in had to do likewise.
The next day, January 5, we rose early and saw before us again the beautiful white city which we had left nearly two months before. We got up the anchor as soon as the morning breeze had sprung up, and sailed slowly to our anchorage under Fort la Mar, where we let go in three fathoms of water.
We noticed that a strange flag was flying on all the forts and government buildings, as well as on the guard-ship and a little gunboat that was lying near us. It bore no resemblance to the flag of Brazil, or to that of any other nationality, and puzzled us somewhat.
Though it was Sunday, our old friend, the harbour doctor, came off to us in his launch. I was uncertain as to how he would receive us; for the regulations of Brazilian ports are strict, and our entry here was most informal. We had sailed out of Bahia, as the doctor himself must have known, two months before, presumedly for Sydney, Australia; and now, here we were again at Bahia, with no bill of health, and only half of our crew on board.
He came alongside, and we greeted each other. 'What port do you come from?' he then asked.