"Penelope" at Anchor in San Pedro Harbor
We have a copy of his "Two Years Before the Mast" on board, and shall be complimented by what he says about the Englishmen and Americans whom he met. "If the California fever (laziness) spares the first generation, it always attacks the second." Did Dana mean the crew of the "Penelope"? We shall see.
Having made a dutiful promise to my mother to "keep a faithful diary" of our cruise, which, in event of disaster, shall be duly corked in a large bottle and sent adrift, I now enter my first date since April 8, 1898, the day on which we set sail from San Pedro. California.
North Pacific Ocean, June 5.—We are seventeen days out from San Francisco, and have made a little over twelve hundred miles: that is, in a direct line on our course to Unamak Pass through the Aleutian Islands, for we have had many unfavorable winds against which we were compelled to tack. We have sailed two thousand miles, counting full distance. We have experienced two storms which, put together, as the captain says, makes "a good half a gale." While the "Penelope" rides the highest billows like a duck, at times she pitches and rolls in a terrific fashion. Her movements are short and jerky, unlike those of a steamer or larger vessel. When the wind blows hard on her quarter, the rail is often under water. This makes locomotion difficult, especially if the waves are rolling high, and everything is bouncing about on deck. It is my duty to carry "grub" from the galley to the cabins, and I can never handle more than one thing at a time, as I am obliged to keep one hand free. I wait for my opportunity, else a heavy sea starts at the same time and we go down together, "grub" and all. However, I have had few accidents. Once I landed a big platter of mush upside down on the deck, and at another time a gust of wind took all the biscuits overboard, while a big sea filled the milk pitcher with salt water. This was not so bad as Dana's experience with the "scouse," which "precious stuff" came down all over him at the bottom of the hatchway. "Whatever your feelings may be, you must make a joke of everything at sea," he wrote just after he had found himself lying at full length on the slippery deck with his tea-pot empty and sliding to the far side. We are better off than the crew of the "Pilgrim" in 1840, for there is plenty more, if half the breakfast goes to feed the fishes.
Down in the cabin there is the most fun. The table is bordered by a deep rail, and several slats are fastened crosswise over the surface to hold the dishes, besides holes and racks for cups; yet when things are inclined at an angle of thirty-five degrees it is almost impossible, without somebody's hand on each separate dish, to keep the meal in sight. We have some trouble in cooking at times, but the stove has an iron frame with cross pieces on top to keep the kettles from sliding, which, in rough weather, can never be filled more than half. We usually get up very good meals; that is, for such of the crew as have an appetite. For breakfast, rolled oats mush, baking-powder biscuit, boiled eggs or potatoes, and ham. For dinner, light bread or milk toast, beans or canned corn, salt-horse, creamed potatoes, and often soup with crackers. For supper, canned fruit, muffins or corn bread, boiled ham and baked potatoes. Of course tea or coffee with each meal. The cook makes fine yeast bread, ten loaves a day. There are twenty-three men on board. Including the hired sailors who are not of the company, and even with five in the hospital we make way with a good deal of food.
Our fare differs somewhat from that of the crew of the "Pilgrim." whose regular diet, Dana wrote, was "salt beef and biscuit," with "an occasional potato." But it must be remembered that we had several articles, such as eggs and ham and fresh potatoes, the first days of our cruise, which we never saw later on when we were confined to bacon and beans for staple supplies, with dessicated vegetables and some canned goods for extras.
We left San Francisco May 10, after taking on board the parts of a river boat, to be put together when needed, and much more Arctic clothing than we can possibly use in two or even four years. The Sea was very rough. Our captain had not been on board ship for two years, and the result was that he, with every one of the party except the sailors, was very sea-sick. The doctor was pretty well in a couple of days, but the undertaker fared not so well, he stayed on deck and sang and jumped about and did his best to keep jolly as long as nature could hold out. Presently one could tell that he was feeling rather uneasy about something, when all of a sudden quietness reigned and only an ominous sound from over the rail gave indication of what was passing.
We have some fine singing. "The Penelope Quartette" has been formed and practices every evening, making voluminous noise, but there is no fear of disturbing adjoining meetings or concerts. The quartette is composed of Reynolds (the undertaker). Foote, Wilson and Miller. There are other singers of less renown. We have a "yell." which is frequently to be heard, especially at getting-up time in the morning. It is "Penelope, Penelope, zip, boom, bah! Going up to Kotzebue! rah! rah! rah!"
We are very much crowded and have many discomforts, as anyone can imagine we should have in so close quarters; but we are a congenial crowd. I was sea-sick for a week, but am all right now and capable of eating more than anyone else, a symptom which the doctor fears may continue, as I make it a rule to eat up all there is left at both tables. There are eleven men in the after cabin and twelve in the forward cabin, including the forecastle, and each set have meals served in their respective cabins. Having been chosen as "cook's assistant," I have ample opportunities.