On arriving within a few degrees of the world-renowned prison-rock of the great Conqueror, sail was reduced, and the ship luffed to the wind. The moon being on the change, our captain, anxious to get one more sperm whale, determined to let no means within his power remain unemployed for that purpose.
This halt in our homeward course was not received with a very good grace. Except the captain, everybody else aboard our vessel had calculated upon a direct passage homeward. But this was in perfect keeping with his conduct throughout the voyage: at one time assuring us that we would be bound homeward on a certain date, and inducing us to write to that effect by his representations, in which at the time of making them he was perhaps sincere. But he suffered his opinions to be changed by the slightest cause. If he gammoned with a ship, he found in her skipper an adviser, who recommended to him a prolific whaling-ground—one on which, he was told, he could not fail to take five hundred barrels of oil, probably, even altogether fill up. These golden visions he received and credited, (although I cannot but think that it was against his better judgment—for, certainly, if a vacillating, he was not a stupid man,) and away he would go to the promised El Dorado. Thus he exhausted his own as well as the patience of every one else by a fruitless search for sperm whales that had been long ago captured!
Where we were now stopping was the ground on which the barque Monmouth, two years since, captured two hundred barrels of oil; and hence our captain imagined that we would be likely to do the same; but in this there was about as much probability of any success and remuneration at all commensurate to the time and trouble expended, as the Kidd treasure seekers have received for their laborious and chimerical search.
Under such phases of affairs, I have written some half-dozen different times, stating to those whom I addressed that I would certainly be home at the periods that had been severally and distinctly determined on. Some of these letters bore the date of August, 1858; and I do not know but that those who received them may have set down such disparities to wilful misrepresentations, or a sickening anxiety on my part to get home, leading me to believe in an early return, because it was so much the more desirable, and in accordance with my hourly wishes. But such, I can safely say, was not the case; for even now, at the present writing, (January 31st, 1859,) I cannot, neither can any other in the ship except the captain—all assurances to the contrary notwithstanding—set a time, which they can firmly believe themselves will be that at which we shall really start for home. So, I must be absolved from the charge of writing at random; and the blame must rest, where it should: upon the captain’s wavering, and his being so easily influenced by others.
CHAPTER XIV.
At daylight, February 1st, we hove in sight of the Isle of St. Helena, the world-renowned prison-rock of Napoleon Bonaparte, the conqueror of Europe. At a distance, this isle looked not unlike other isles, despite its notoriety. As we approached nearer, we found it distinctive in all its features: high, frowning, and almost barren. A strange thing, this, for so low a latitude, within the tropics, where Nature dons her greenest garment, and smiles her sunniest smile: spreading rich and plentiful productions over the earth’s surface. On approaching still nearer, we found fortifications erected, which, as far as I am able to judge, make the island impregnable; though what enemy would care to take the trouble and expense of an expedition against so worthless an object, I cannot imagine. After passing this chain of fortifications, Rupert’s Valley gradually developed itself to our sight, and ensconced on its narrow bosom we saw the city of Jamestown. From the water this town presents quite a creditable appearance. The buildings being of stone, and many of them of goodly size, give an air of solidity and respectability to it, which I for one did not expect to find. On the right of the town, viewed from the sea, is the far-famed Jacob’s Ladder, consisting of I do not know how many steps, hewn out of the solid rock, which affords the only means of ingress and egress to the garrison occupying a fort at the summit of the elevation. There is only a single narrow street laid out in the town—the narrowness of the valley not admitting of any farther expansion. On the sides of the acclivities are stone-walls, built for the purposes of travel. They are wide, and admit of the passage of a vehicle upon them; but a misstep will entail upon the unfortunate wight who should make it certain death, as it would precipitate him into an abyss hundreds of feet in depth. Shortly before our arrival an English seaman on liberty, who had been carousing, was suddenly seized with the whim of drinking his brandy on one of these airy places. In pursuance of this phantasy, he procured a bottle of spirits, and, seating himself on the ledge of the wall, with his feet suspended over the chasm, he was enjoying his brandy and his position to his entire satisfaction. He could not be removed by force, as such a proceeding would be productive of imminent danger to him and his rescuers, and as he was proof against persuasion, his shipmates were constrained to allow him to remain in his perilous position, trusting for his preservation in Providence, who assists the seaman out of so many difficulties and dangers. For a time he did very well, and maintained an upright, and consequently a safe position; but, as the spirits he had imbibed began to operate, his body swayed to and fro, and finally, whilst about to take another drink from his bottle, he lost his balance, and was precipitated down, far down, upon the jagged rocks; from whence his body was taken, mangled almost out of the semblance of humanity.
There is no harbor here—ships anchoring in an open seaway unprotected from the winds; but as, during the greater part of the year, this latitude is only visited by the south-east trade wind, a ship may lay in this exposed position with impunity. Some twenty vessels lay at anchor, three of which flew the stars and stripes; one of these was the Messenger, whose crew was ashore on liberty; another was the ship Thomas Glover, of Boston, bound home in a few days. The third, a barque, whose name I did not learn, was in an extremely leaky condition, and her captain, not wishing to have her condemned here, was offering one hundred dollars bounty, and twenty-five dollars per month for each man who would ship aboard to work her home; but if anything else offers Jack Tar is shy about engaging himself aboard a leaky ship, where the pumps are to be kept constantly going, day and night, and, as her semi-water-logged condition renders her unsafe to carry a press of canvass on, the probability is that a passage in her will be an extended one. Then by the time she would get on our coast, heavy weather might be looked for, and it, united with her leaky condition, would render her anything but a comfortable craft.
The other vessels were English, French, Swedish, and Dutch. Inside of all lay a number of condemned vessels, amongst them was the barque Ann, of Sag Harbor, the same vessel we were in company with whilst engaged in whaling on the coast of New Holland. After we left her she proceeded to Desolation, where, from heavy weather, she received severe damages, and, on arriving at St. Helena, a survey was had upon her and she was condemned. The other condemned vessels lying here are, for the most part, slavers, captured on the coast of Africa by the British squadron.
It not being our intention to make any stay here, without there was sufficient freight for home to make it an inducement for us so to do, we did not anchor, but stood off and on shore on alternate tacks. The captain lowered away, taking with him the men who came aboard without an agreement at Port Louis, for the purpose of shipping them before the American consul. His principal object, however, was to get letters, which we had directed to be sent here in numberless missives written many miles to the westward, and on this account St. Helena has been, for months, the wished-for port. Everybody expecting consecutive letters filling up the void of the last eighteen months, since which time none of us have received news of our families and friends, and, from the many dolorous accounts we have heard of the financial affairs of the country, everyone is interested to know what bearing such a crisis had had upon his connections; hence our anxiety. After many injunctions to send the boat off that night, the captain departed. We patiently waited until sundown, when, no boat approaching, we began to be uneasy. An hour later, we were chafing, almost the whole crew were walking decks in an excited, uneasy manner; and, although they did not curse the old man, they invoked anything but blessings upon his head, innocent though he was. Next morning, when the boat arrived, we found that from some misconception of orders, we should have stood in, when we stood off, shore; and, consequently, the third mate was kept chasing us in his boat from nightfall until three o’clock in the morning, when, giving up the pursuit as hopeless, he went aboard the Messenger, and, with his wearied crew, turned in.
On the letters being brought forth, I found that I had four; one of August, 1855, left here by a ship that had carried it about the ocean for years—the other three were of May, July, and November, 1858; this last was inexpressibly welcome to me, as it brought everything down to a comparatively late date, assuring me of a warm welcome home whenever I did arrive. Of this, however unworthy, I had never doubted; but it is a weakness of our nature to take delight in the rehearsal of pleasant facts. The chief topic of interest, after being assured of the welfare of my connections, and one that astonished and, to some extent, perplexed me, was the birth of a niece, a child of my younger brother. This was the first intelligence I had of his marriage, which, however, was not unexpected; I had looked forward to it as a matter of course; but that he should be blessed with issue ere I returned, never once crossed my mind—though why, I know not. At first, I could scarce believe it; but there it was, in black and white, the plainness of the chirography forbidding a doubt of its authenticity; so there was nothing left for me to do but to sit down and acknowledge myself taken all aback by the intelligence. After a few minutes reflection, I could not but laugh at my stupidity, or inadvertency, in never having made a provision in my mind for such a contingency; however, so wags the world; improbable events are fostered by the imagination, whilst probable ones are allowed, through inattention, to escape notice.