We had often discussed this question before; but it was with a feeling of indifference which precluded our arriving at any definite and absolute decision upon the matter. It was now, however, time that this point was settled, as it would affect our course soon after leaving the island, or, at all events, when we came to the Cape de Verdes.
The eastern route would be much longer than the western; but I felt disposed to adopt it, in the belief that we should be favoured with much better weather. I entertained a very wholesome dread of the “Horn”—the notorious “Cape of Storms.” Bob, on the other hand, was all for the western route.
“I’m willin’ to allow,” observed he, “that a trip round the Horn ain’t like a day’s cruise in the Solent—all pleasuring; but I’ve knowed ships to come round under r’yal stunsails, and that more than once. The place is bad enough; but, like many another thing, not so black as it’s painted. It’s got a bad name, and that, we know, sticks to a place or to a body through thick and thin. I’ve been round five times, twice outward-bound and three times homeward, and we always had plenty of wind; but only once did I round it in a reg’lar gale, and then, had the Lily been there, I’ll lay my grog for the rest of the v’yage she’d have made better weather of it than the old barkie I was aboard of. It’s risky, I know; but so’s the whole trip, for that matter, though, so far, by what I’ve seen of the little craft, I’d as lieve be aboard her in a gale of wind as I would be in e’er a ship that ever was launched. She’s cramped for room, and when you’ve said that you’ve said all as any man can say ag’in her. Besides, see how ’twill shorten the v’yage. Once round the Horn and you’re there, as you may say, or next door to it. And then, there’s ‘Magellan;’ if, when we get down about there, things don’t look promising for a trip round outside of everything, ram her through the Straits. I’ve been through ’em once, and an ugly enough passage it was too, blowing a whole gale; but there’s thousands of places where the Lily would lie as snug as if she was in dock, but where a large ship dursen’t venture for her life.”
I yielded, as I generally did in such matters, to Bob’s judgment; and it was settled that the Water Lily should brave Cape Horn with all its perils. On the fourth day of our stay at Funchal we filled up our water-tank, made a few additions to our stores (among others, a small stock of the famous wine produced by the island); and towards evening stood out to sea again, with our main-boom well garnished with bunches of bananas and nets of various kinds of fruits; the wind at the time being light, from about east-south-east, with a fine settled look about the weather. This lasted us for four days, and ran us fairly into the “trades,” and on the third day following, just as the sun was dipping beneath the horizon, we sighted Saint Antonio, the westernmost of the Cape Verde Islands.
The “trades” were blowing very moderately as it happened, and the weather was as fine as heart could wish, with a nearly full moon into the bargain, so we were able to carry not only a jib-headed topsail, but also our spinnaker at the bowsprit-end; and under this canvas the little beauty made uncommonly short miles of it, tripping along like a rustic belle going to her first ball. We fell in with several homeward-bound ships, all of whom we requested to report us on their arrival as “all well.” So fine a run had we from the Cape de Verdes, that on the morning of the fifth day after sighting them we ran into the “doldrums,” or region of calms and light variable airs which prevail about the line.
Here our light duck did us valuable service, for though the wind soon fell so light that it became imperceptible to us, and not a ripple disturbed the glassy surface of the water, by getting our enormous balloon gaff-topsail aloft we managed to catch enough wind from somewhere to fan us along at the rate of nearly three knots. True, the breeze was very variable, our boom being sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other, sometimes square out (at least as far as the little air of wind had power to project it), and sometimes hauled close in as the flaws headed us, and broke us off two or three points one side or the other of our course. But, in spite of the baffling airs, such good progress did we make, that by two o’clock that afternoon we were gliding slowly through a fleet of about forty sail of vessels which were so completely becalmed that they were heading in all directions, utterly without steerage-way.
We reported ourselves to such as we passed within hail of, and finally, about four o’clock, ranged up alongside of and boarded a beautiful little barque of about three hundred and fifty tons, whose monkey-poop we saw full of passengers (some of whom were ladies), regarding us with the utmost curiosity as we approached. She turned out to be from Natal, bound to London; and her captain (a perfect gentleman both in appearance and manner) not only promised to report us, but gave us a hearty welcome on board, and so cordial an invitation to dinner that there was no resisting it.
Our story, or at least as much of it as we chose to tell (which was simply that we were taking the cruise partly as an adventure, and partly with the object of seeking intelligence of my father), was of course soon drawn out of us; and, naturally enough, it excited the liveliest astonishment in the minds of our hearers, and soon got all over the ship. We excited some curiosity on board the other ships too, for no less than four captains lowered their boats and pulled alongside to learn where the pigmy cutter had sprung from.
The little craft was regarded with the greatest curiosity and admiration, especially by the ladies (who are of course good judges of the model of a vessel), some of them declaring that they would be delighted (with strong emphasis) to make a voyage in such a little darling of a yacht.
We mustered quite a strong party at the dinner-table, what with the regular party, the four visiting captains (who were also pressed to stay), and our two selves, and a very merry one withal. We contributed to the dessert from our stock on the main-boom; and they only who have enjoyed it can say what a luxury is fresh fruit on the line, especially when one has been a long time on board a ship.