Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
And there should be her grave;
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,
The lightning and the gale.
CHAPTER XII
IN THE WASTES OF THE SOUTH ATLANTIC
THE STORY OF A BATTLE—THE HORNET AND THE PENGUIN IN THE SHADOWS OF TRISTAN D’ACUNHA—AS FAIR A MATCH AS IS KNOWN TO NAVAL ANNALS—IT TOOK THE YANKEES TEN MINUTES TO DISMANTLE THE ENEMY AND FIVE MORE TO RIDDLE HIS HULL—THE BRITISH CAPTAIN’S FORCEFUL DESCRIPTION OF THE YANKEE FIRE—A MARVELLOUS ESCAPE FROM A LINER—THE PEACOCK IN THE STRAITS OF SUNDA—WHEN THE LONELY SITUATION OF THIS SLOOP IS CONSIDERED DID WARRINGTON SHOW A LACK OF HUMANITY?—IF HE DID, WHAT DID THE BRITISH CAPTAIN BARTHOLOMEW SHOW?
An echo to the prolonged salute which the ships of Sir George Collier fired, in the harbor of Porto Praya, to the honor of Yankee pluck and seamanship, comes from a giant mountain rising in the lonely wastes of the South Atlantic—from the island of Tristan d’Acunha. On a line from the Cape of Good Hope to Cape Horn, and 1,500 miles west of the Cape of Good Hope, can be found three rugged islands, which, though small in diameter, rise at one point to a height of no less than 8,300 feet above the rollers that crash against their precipitous walls. No more lonely and no more impressive rocks than these are found in all the world.
But, though far away from civilized habitations, the group was itself inhabited by sealers and whalers even as early as 1791, when a Yankee, one Jonathan Lambert, “by a curious and singular edict declared himself sovereign proprietor” of the group. For it was a breeding resort for seals and sea lions, and it had also a climate and some soil fit for a comfortable human habitation, and this enterprising Yankee had settled there with associates and had “cleared about fifty acres of land, and planted various kinds of seed, some of which, as well as the coffee-tree and sugar-cane, were furnished by the American Minister at Rio Janeiro.”