Memoirs of Service Afloat, During the War Between the States

by Raphael Semmes

We passed through tangled forests, the trees of which were all new to us, and through dells and ravines, in which the living, and the decaying vegetation seemed to be struggling for the mastery, and emerged in a beautiful cocoanut plantation, on the south end of the island, which lay only a few feet above the sea-level. I was now at the end of the Governor’s dominions—an hour’s ride had brought me from the sea, on one side of them, to the sea, on the other, and there was nothing more to be seen. Other showers coming on, we entered a tiny country house of the Governor’s, and had some grapes, figs, and melons brought in to us by the major domo. The green cocoanut was brought to us among other delicacies, to be eaten with spoons. We were quite amused at the manner in which these nuts were gathered. The major domo called a boy, and tying his legs together, just above the ankles, so that the ankles were about six inches apart, set him down at the foot of a tree. These trees, as the reader knows, grow to a great height, are perfectly cylindrical, and have not an excrescence of any kind from root to top; and yet the boy, by the aid of the bandage described, wriggled himself to the top of one of the tallest, with the agility of a squirrel.

There being at length a pause in the rains, the sun even peeping through an occasional rift in the ragged and watery clouds, we remounted, and rode back. The tiny mountain paths had, many of them, by this time become rills and torrents, and our horses were frequently knee-deep in water. The paymaster and I pulled on board at five P. M., without having suffered any inconvenience, either from the rains, or the Governor’s aguadiente; nor did our morals suffer materially by what we had seen and heard in the island of Fernando de Noronha. The next morning the Governor’s wife sent me a fat turkey for dinner, accompanied by the most charming of bouquets. This was evidently my reward for patting the little curly heads of her children. My diplomacy from this time onward was all right. I did not hear a word from the Governor, or any one in authority, about neutral rights, or the violation of neutral jurisdictions. Brazil had, I knew, followed the lead of the European powers, in excluding prizes from her ports, and I had fully expected to receive some remonstrance against my bringing in the Louisa Hatch, but Madame was too strong for the Governor, and, as the reader has seen, I received fat turkeys, and bouquets, instead of remonstrances. The anchorage being nothing but an open roadstead, we soon found it too rough to permit a ship to lie alongside of us, and so were obliged to haul the Hatch off to her anchors, and continue our coaling with boats. This was rather a tedious process, and it was not until the 15th of April, or five days after our arrival, that we were coaled.

We had not once thought of a prize, since we came in. Our whole attention had been given to coaling ship, and refitting for another cruise, refreshing the crew, and attending to the ladies at the Government House. But the ubiquitous Yankee would turn up in spite of us. Just as we had gotten our last boat-load of coal on board, two ships appeared off the harbor, and were seen to heave to, and lower boats. We soon made them out to be whalers, and knew them to be American, though they had not as yet hoisted any colors. The boats pulled in apace, and soon entered the harbor. They contained the masters of the two whalers, who had come in to barter a little whale oil for supplies. The Alabama was lying, without any colors hoisted, as was her wont while she remained at this island, and, of course, the Louisa Hatch, her prize, had none set. The boats pulled in quite unsuspiciously, and observing that the Hatch was an American-built ship, went alongside of her. The prize-master, who was taking it easily, in his shirt-sleeves, and so had no uniform on which could betray him, went to the gangway and threw them a rope. The two masters declined to come on board, as they were in a hurry, they said, but remained some time in conversation—the prize-master, who was an Englishman, endeavoring to play Yankee, the best he could. He repeatedly invited them to come on board, but they declined. They wanted to know what steamer “that was,” pointing to the Alabama. They were told that it was a Brazilian packet-steamer, come over to the colony to bring some convicts. “What are you doing here,” they now inquired. “We sprang a pretty bad leak, in a late gale, and have come in to see if we can repair damages.” Presently there was a simultaneous start, on the part of both the boat’s crews, and the words “starn, all!” being bawled, rather than spoken, both boats backed out, in “double quick,” and put off, with the most vigorous strokes of their oars, for the shore, like men who were pulling for their lives. The prize-master, a little astonished at this sudden movement, looked around him to see what could have caused it. The cause was soon apparent. A small Confederate flag—a boat’s ensign—had been thrown by the coxswain of one of the boats on the spanker-boom to dry, and while the conversation was going on, a puff of wind had blown out the folds, and disclosed the little tell-tale to the gaze of the astonished whalers. It was not precisely a Gorgon’s head; they did not turn to stone, but perhaps there was some of the tallest pulling done, that day, at Fernando de Noronha, that was ever done by a Yankee boat’s crew.

In the meantime, the “Brazilian packet-steamer” having gotten up steam, was moving quietly out of the harbor, to look after the ships outside. They were still lying to, and fortunately for me, they were four or five miles off; outside of the charmed marine league. There was an outlying shoal or two, in the direction in which they were, and this was the reason, probably, why they had not ventured nearer. It did not take us long to come up with them. We fired the usual gun as we approached, and as there was no occasion for ruse, we showed them our own flag. They saw in a moment that their fate was sealed, and did not attempt to stir, but hoisted the United States colors, and patiently waited to be taken possession of. The first we came up with, was the bark Lafayette, of New Bedford. There were no papers to be examined—the mate, in the absence of the captain, having thrown them overboard, as we approached—and we gave her a short shrift. She was burning brightly, in less than an hour. We now ranged up alongside of the other, which proved to be the hermaphrodite brig, Kate Cory, of Westport. Instead of burning the Cory, I took her in tow, and stood back to the anchorage with her, it being my intention to convert her into a cartel, and dispatch her to the United States, with my prisoners, who were now quite as numerous as my crew, there being 110 of them. By seven P. M., we had again anchored in our old berth; the burning ship outside lighting us into the roadstead, and throwing a bright glare over much of the island. A number of ships that passed Fernando de Noronha that night, must have been astonished at this illumination of the lonely mile-post. The sea was smooth, and the ship was still burning, the next morning, though by this time she had drifted so far, that there was nothing visible except a column of smoke. I afterward changed my determination of converting the Cory into a cartel. A small Brazilian schooner having come into the anchorage, offered to take all my prisoners to Pernambuco, if I would provision them, and give her, besides, a few barrels of pork and flour for her trouble. This I at once consented to do, and the Governor having no objection, the arrangement was forthwith made. I was thus enabled to burn the Cory, and to put the enemy, to the expense of sending his released prisoners to the United States. I burned the Louisa Hatch along with the Cory, having no farther use for her; taking the pains to send them both beyond the marine league, that I might pay due respect to the jurisdiction of Brazil.

And now we were ready for sea again, though I remained a few days longer at my anchors, hoping that the Agrippina might arrive. She was past due, but I had not yet given up all hope of her.

We were now getting well along into the latter part of April, and a great change was taking place in the weather. It had been raining, as the reader has observed, ever since we reached the vicinity of the equator. The rains were now becoming less frequent, from day to day, and we had the showers agreeably alternated with sunshine. The rainy season was passing away, and the dry season was about to set in. I watched this phenomenon with great interest—all the more narrowly, because I had nothing to do, but look out for the weather, and the Agrippina; except, indeed, to attend to the refreshment, and recreation of my crew, and send Bartelli on shore, occasionally, with messages to the ladies at the Government House. The reader, who has now been a passenger with us for some time, has watched the trade-winds, as he has crossed the tropics, and has fanned himself and panted for breath, when we have been working our tedious way through the calm-belts. He has seen how this system of trade-winds and calm-belts wanders up and down the earth, from north to south, and south to north, drawn hither and thither by the sun. But we have had no conversation, as yet, about the Equatorial Cloud Ring. He has been, for the last three weeks, under this very Cloud Ring, but has probably failed to remark it. He has only seen that the flood-gates of the heavens have been raised, and witnessed the descending torrents, and the roll of the thunder, and the play of the lightning, without stopping to ask himself the reason.

Let us pause a moment, and look into this beautiful phenomenon of the Equatorial Cloud Ring, before we flit away to other seas, and are absorbed by new phenomena. The north-east and south-east trade-winds, meeting near the equator, produce the Cloud Ring. Let us suppose the Alabama back at the crossing of the 30th parallel, where, as the reader will recollect, we established the toll-gate. She had, whilst there, a high barometer. Starting thence on her way to the equator, as soon as she enters the north-east trade, she finds that her barometer settles a little—perhaps a tenth of an inch on an average. The reader has seen, that we had, whilst passing through this region, a series of half gales, and bad weather; but this was an exceptional state of the atmospheric phenomena. The normal condition of the weather is that of a clear sky, with passing trade-clouds, white and fleecy, and with moderate breezes. If the reader has watched his barometer narrowly, he has observed a very remarkable phenomenon, which is not known to prevail outside of the trade-wind belts—an atmospheric tide. The atmosphere ebbs and flows as regularly as the sea. This atmospheric tide is due, no doubt, to the same cause that produces the aqueous tides—the attraction of the moon. It occurs twice in twenty-four hours, just like the aqueous tides, and there is no other cause to which we can attribute it.

The needle has a like semi-diurnal—indeed, hourly variation—showing the normal, electrical condition of the atmosphere. The atmospherical, tidal wave, as it ebbs and flows, seems to carry the needle backward and forward with it. The average barometer being but a very little under thirty, there is an agreeable elasticity in the atmosphere, and officers, and crew are generally in fine spirits. The sailors enjoy their evening dances, and story-tellings, and when the night-watches are set, sleep with impunity about the decks—guarded, however, by those woollen garments, of which I spoke, when describing our routine life. But observe, now, what a change will take place, as we approach the equator. We are approaching not only the calm-belt, which has been before described, but the Cloud Ring, for the latter is the concomitant of the former. The winds die away, the muttering of thunder is heard, and a pall of black clouds, along which dart frequent streaks of lightning, is seen hanging on the verge of the horizon, ahead of the ship. As she advances, fanned along by puffs of wind from various quarters, she loses sight of the sun altogether, and enters beneath the belt of clouds, where she is at once deluged with rain. She is at once in the equatorial calm-belt, and under the Equatorial Cloud Ring.

The north-east and south-east trade-winds, as they came sweeping along, charged to saturation with the vapors which they have licked up from a torrid sea, have ascended as they met, and when they have reached the proper dew-point, or point of the wet-bulb of the thermometer, precipitation has commenced. The barometer falls another tenth of an inch, or so, all elasticity departs from the atmosphere, and officers and crew lose their cheerfulness. They feel all the lassitude and weariness of men in a perpetual vapor-bath. The sailor no longer mounts the ratlines, as if he had cork in his heels, but climbs up sluggishly and slothfully, devoid of his usual pride to be foremost. In other words, though not absolutely sick, he is “under the weather.” The rays of the sun being perpetually excluded, the thermometer stands lower under the Cloud Ring, than on either side of it. At least this is the normal condition. Sometimes, however, the most oppressive heats occur. They are local, and of short duration. These local heats are occasioned as follows: When a cooler stratum of the upper air sweeps down nearer the earth than usual, bringing with it the dew-point, condensation takes place so near the surface, that the rain-drops have not time to cool, at the same time that an immense quantity of latent heat has been liberated in the act of condensation. At other times, when the dew-point is far removed from the earth, the latent heat is not only thrown off at a greater distance from us, but the rain-drops cool in their descent, and greatly reduce the temperature.

The Cloud Ring is being perpetually formed, and is perpetually passing away. Fresh volumes of air, charged as described, are constantly rushing in from the north and from the south, and as constantly ascending, parting with a portion of their water, and continuing their journey to the poles, in obedience to the laws providing for the equal distribution of rain to the two hemispheres, before explained. The Cloud Ring encircles the entire earth, and if it could be viewed by an eye at a distance from our planet, would appear like a well-defined black mark drawn around an artificial globe. Its width is considerable, being from three to six degrees.