We continued our course to the South very agreeably, with fine weather and a favourable wind. Under thirty-nine degrees of latitude, however, we could already perceive how much further the South pole extends its unfavourable influence than the North. The sky was no longer clear, the wind became changeable and violent, the air much colder, and the frequent sight of the whale, and of a giant bird called the albatross, warned us that we were approaching the stormy region. We afterwards shot one of these birds on the coast of Chili, which measured twelve feet across the wings.
In the parallel of Rio de la Plata, although two hundred miles from land, we were daily carried by the current thirty-nine miles out of our course towards the south-west; so great is the influence of this mighty river at the distance of two hundred and forty miles from its mouth.
On the 15th of December, in the beginning of the southern summer, under forty-seven degrees of latitude, where, if the temperature of both hemispheres were equal, the climate would have been that of the South of Germany, or the middle of France, we were overtaken by a violent storm, accompanied by hail and snow. It began from the south-west, but the wind, in the course of twenty-four hours, veered the whole round of the compass, and raised such high and furious billows, that our escape from destruction afforded ample proof, notwithstanding a considerable leak, of our ship's strength, and her architect's skill. From this time we continued our voyage with a fair wind and serene weather.
Between Falkland Islands and the west of Patagonia, we saw great numbers of storm-birds, betokening the neighbourhood of land, and we sailed within speaking distance of a North-American whaler. The dirty ship, and the crew smeared with blubber, had indeed a disgusting appearance; but if we consider to what toils and dangers these poor men are exposed during their voyages, which commonly last several years, in the most tempestuous seas, sometimes sailing about for months without seeing a fish, and suffering in the meanwhile from the want of wholesome food, yet pursuing their object with invincible perseverance, it is impossible to deny them compassion, and even commendation. The North Americans display an industry and perseverance in their commercial undertakings, which is not exceeded even by the English: they are to be met with upon every sea, and in the most unfrequented regions, disdaining nothing, however trivial, from which they can derive profit. On the north-west coast of America, they barter with the savages all kinds of European trifles for the beautiful skin of the sea-otter, which they sell for a high price in China. Many of their vessels take in cargoes of sandal-wood in the South-Sea Islands, for which they also find a good market in China, where it is in great estimation; others pursue the spermaceti whale in the neighbourhood of Cape Horn, and carry on an important traffic in this article.
On the morning of the 23rd of December, we saw in the distance the snow-covered points of the mountains in the dreaded Staten-land. A fresh breeze carried us so near to this inhospitable and desolate island, that we could plainly distinguish the objects on it, even without a telescope. What a contrast to the beauty of Brazil! There nature seems inexhaustible in her splendour and variety; here she has sparingly allowed a thin clothing of moss to the lofty masses of black rock. Seldom do the sun's rays lighten this or the neighbouring island of Terra del Fuego. Vegetation is so blasted by the perpetual cold and fogs, that a few miserable stunted trees can scarcely find subsistence at the foot of the mountains. The sea-birds avoid these barren shores; the very insects disdain them; the dog, the faithful companion of man, and man himself, the inhabitant of every climate under heaven, can alone exist in this; but the warmth of the sun is essential to the development of his faculties. Here he is a mere animal, and of disgusting appearance; small, ill-shaped, with dirty copper-coloured skin, black bristly hair, and devoid of beard. He inhabits a miserable hut made of boughs covered with dried rushes, and appeases his hunger on the raw and often half-decayed flesh of the sea animals, whose skins furnish him with a scanty covering: this is the utmost extent to which his invention has yet led him, in providing defences against the roughness of the climate; and the dreariness of his existence is still unenlivened by any notion of amusement. Yet is this benumbing country situated in the same degree of southern latitude in which in the northern lies my beloved Esthonia, where every comfort of civilization may be enjoyed—the land of my birth, where in the charming form of woman is "garnered up" the happiness of my life, and where I hope to rest at last in the haven of friendship and love, till I set out on that final voyage from which I shall never return.
We had so little wind, that we were only able on the following morning to double the eastern promontory of Staten-land, Cape John; which our chronometers fixed, almost precisely, in the same longitude assigned to it by Captain Cook. I now steered a westerly course along the south coast of Staten-land, contrary to the usual practice of navigators, who run from hence to 60 degrees South, expecting in that latitude to meet with fewer impediments to their passage into the South Sea. Experience has taught me, moreover, that Cape Horn may be doubled with least loss of time by keeping near land, where in the summer months good east winds will often blow, when westerly winds prevail at a distance of forty miles to sea-ward. When we had passed Staten-land, the Terra del Fuego lay in equally fearful form to our right. We continued our course with a moderate north-east wind, and remarked a strong current to the north.
On the noon of the following day we perceived the terrible Cape Horn at a distance of twenty-five miles, lying in the form of a high, round mountain before us. A calm, of which we took advantage to shoot some albatrosses, delayed us for a few hours; but on Christmas-day we doubled the Cape without the slightest difficulty. In the evening, after sailing close alongside the little rocky island of Diego Ramirez, inhabited by immense numbers of sea-birds, we found ourselves in the South Sea. A favourable east wind swelling our sails, on the 28th of December, we did our best to clear the island of Terra del Fuego, before a west wind should impede our progress; but in this we were disappointed, for a sudden storm drove us out of our course to latitude 59½°. Here, for a New Year's gift, we fell in with a fresh south wind, which helped us forward at the rate of eleven miles an hour, and continued to swell our sails, till on the 5th we lost sight of the Terra del Fuego, and joyfully continued our voyage northwards. At Cape Horn, Reaumur's thermometer stood at four degrees; a temperature rendered very disagreeable by our having so recently suffered from oppressive heat. We now hailed with renewed enjoyment the daily increasing warmth.
My sailors had heard much of the dreadful storms which raged at all seasons round Cape Horn, and destroyed so many ships. One of them had recently read to his messmates the history of Lord Anson's unfortunate voyage: they were therefore not quite free from apprehension on approaching this dangerous point, and were agreeably surprised at passing it so quietly. In their joy they hit on the proud, poetical idea, that the very elements themselves respected the Russian flag. This bold imagination took such possession of their minds, that, in the elevation of their spirits, they resolved to represent it in a pantomime, to which I willingly assented, as my own cheerfulness greatly depended on theirs. Accordingly, a throne was erected on the capstan, adorned with coloured flags and streamers, which we were to take for the extreme point of Cape Horn, upon which, shrouded in red drapery, with all becoming dignity and seriousness of aspect, sat the hitherto unknown God Horn, (begotten and born of the sailors' fancy,) the tremendous ruler of the winds and waves in this tempestuous ocean. In his strong right hand he held a large three-pronged oven fork, and in his left a telescope, with which he surveyed the watery expanse seeking for a sacrifice. A grey beard smeared with tar, hung down to his knees, and, probably as a symbol of his marine dominion, instead of a crown, his head was decorated by a leathern pail. Before him lay a large open book, and a pen was stuck behind his ear, to write down the names of the ships which sailed by. The exact purpose of this I could not understand, but the effect was equally good. Upon the lower step of the throne stood two full-cheeked sailors, very much painted, holding bellows, to represent the Winds ready to produce a raging whirlwind at the nod of their ruler. The God seemed in a very ill humour, till at the appearance of a three-masted ship, made of some planks nailed together, his visage suddenly cleared. The crew of the vessel, which was in full sail, pointed to the Cape, and appeared to rejoice in the expectation of doubling it safely. Then did the God Horn give the ominous nod, and the bellows began to work. The ship took in her sails with all possible expedition, but was nevertheless terribly tossed about. The crew, in danger of perishing, offered their supplications to the God, who at length relenting, commanded the winds to subside, and suffered the vessel to pass on in safety. Soon after another vessel appeared bearing our flag, which the God no sooner perceived than he descended from his throne, took the pail respectfully from his head, and made a profound obeisance, in token of homage to the Russian flag. The Æolian attendants blew the gentlest gales, and we soon vanished with out-stretched sails behind our own main-mast. The piece concluded amidst universal applause, and a double portion of grog served to increase the general cheerfulness.
Thus opened the year 1824.—The crew believed that, with the passage of Cape Horn, the greatest danger of the voyage was over, and were full of life and spirits. On the 15th of January we saw far off the Island of St. Maria, and on the following morning knew, by the two high mountains called Biobio's Bosom, from the river which flows between them, that we were approaching the Bay of Conception. As soon as these hills are clearly distinguished, the entrance to the bay is easily found.—In fine weather they are excellent guides.