“Lips that together did meet,
Clamors of wars, and terrible drums,”
until the man at the wheel struck eight bells.
CHAPTER II.
IN THE RIVER PLATA.
At length the day for making preparations for nearing land arrived. One fine afternoon the order was given to have everything ready for entering the river. All hands were kept on deck, and every one manifested an unusual readiness to work. The lashings were cut adrift from the anchors; the chain drawn out of the locker, and overhauled upon the deck; and the other matters attended to, which are not to be neglected on a ship about coming to an anchorage. Towards night, the changing color of the water, which in the deep ocean is of a dark blue, but which had now become of a greenish tinge, told us of the proximity of land.
At sunrise of the next morning, the cry of, “Land on the starboard bow!” awoke me from a sound slumber. Hurrying on deck, I was able to discover a faint streak of red in the distant horizon, which a sailor declared to be “the loom of the land;” and by eight o’clock the low shores of the Uruguayan republic were distinctly visible from our deck, and the monotony of our sea life was at an end.
As it was necessary to take a pilot on board, we were obliged to first make Montevideo, the great seaport of the Banda Oriental, or Uruguayan republic, which country, as most of my readers are doubtless aware, was formerly a constant bone of contention between Buenos Ayres and Brazil, but is now independent of both, and according to all accounts promises to become the greatest producer of wool of the South American republics.
A light breeze wafted us past the rocky isle of Flores to Montevideo, where, about dusk, we dropped anchor at a distance of three miles from the shore.
While aloft, I had time to observe that a conical mountain, with smooth sides, and crowned by an old fort, was connected with the main land by a peninsula, in such a manner that a fine bay was formed, where a large fleet of vessels were lying at anchor. The fort on the mount showed a light, four hundred and seventy-five feet above the level of the sea. The town lies on the opposite side of the bay, to the eastward of the mountain, from which fact it derives its name.
By the time the sails were furled, and several additional ranges of chain overhauled, night came on, and the anchor watch was set, with orders to call the mate if it lightened in the south-west, the region of pamperos.
My watch was from nine to ten: when I was relieved, I went below with a light heart, and “turned in” to my bunk, with the prospect of unbroken rest. It was perhaps an hour later that I was awakened by the confused sounds on deck, caused by the “letting go” the second anchor, and the loud calling down the companion-way for “all hands on deck.” Hurrying above, we found that a pampero had struck the vessel, which was moving through the water at the rate of at least four miles an hour before the force of the hurricane. When the second anchor became fast, however, the vessel’s course was checked, she swung around, broadside to the wind, and held her ground. The force of the wind striking our backs was so great that we were obliged to take shelter beneath the bulwarks to recover our breath.