A quantity of lumber, boards and joist, were taken aboard here, to build quarters for the guests whom the captain expected to take aboard at Australia. The explanation was vouchsafed to the crew that the big spruce boards and joist were for mending the boats; but notwithstanding the absurdity, it was perfectly satisfactory to the men. The captain had drawn $1,000 on the owners at Fayal for refitting, and he spent $300 additional at Teneriffe.
On November 25 the Catalpa sailed from Teneriffe, clearing for "River La Platte and other places." The vessel was now in ship-shape order, and was bound for Australia as straight as she could be sent.
Still the deception of whaling must be kept up with the crew, and a man was always kept on the lookout at masthead. For several weeks light breezes prevailed, and nothing occurred to break the monotony. On December 19 three small whales were taken, making about forty barrels of oil. Then there was a short season of baffling winds and squally weather, but about the 24th the trade winds struck on. The Catalpa crossed the equator in longitude 27° on Christmas night. The prevailing winds had been to the southward, and the vessel had sailed on the port tack for so long a time that she must have been close in upon Cape St. Rourke. No land was sighted, however, and it must have been passed in the night.
Then for a period of two months the voyage was monotonous enough. Light breezes prevailed and considerable of the time was spent in repairing sails. Finback whales were sighted and occasionally the boats were lowered, but the pursuit was without success.
On the night of Friday, February 11, the vessel was in lat. 41° 11´, long. 17° 58´, when a heavy gale from the S.S.W. commenced. At daylight the bark was under two lower topsails and foresail, steering S.E. by E. The cross sea on this occasion was the most treacherous and menacing which Captain Anthony had ever experienced. The combers, coming in opposite directions, came together with reports like a clap of thunder, and the danger of a sea striking the deck was looked upon with no little apprehension. As the gale and sea increased the Catalpa hove to under the two lower topsails and mizzen staysail. Suddenly, to Captain Anthony's consternation, the lower foretopsail split and tore in shreds. Now, before leaving port the captain had been warned never to take in the topsails in heavy weather lest the vessel should thrash herself in pieces. The vessel was flat-bottomed and shallow and required sail to prevent her from rolling to windward and shipping seas, which might be her destruction, he was told, and in corroboration of this he knew that when the topsails were taken in in a hurricane off Cape Horn, on a previous voyage, a sea boarded the Catalpa, sweeping everything from the deck, breaking the mate's leg, and doing serious damage to the vessel.
"Now look out for trouble!" shouted Captain Anthony to Mr. Smith, as the very catastrophe which was dreaded happened. But to the captain's surprise the Catalpa came up into the wind and sea and lay like a duck, rising and settling in the surges with a graceful, buoyant swell.
At three o'clock on the afternoon of the storm a vessel was sighted on the other tack with nothing set but the main spencer and foretopmast staysail. She rolled until her keel was almost in sight, and Captain Anthony not only recognized her as a whaleship, but from the brightness of the copper on the vessel's bottom, which was exposed as she reeled in the great seas, he knew that she had left home but recently. But Captain Anthony realized that his presence in this locality would be difficult to explain to a whaling captain who knew that he had sailed ostensibly on a short voyage in the Atlantic, and he heroically determined to forego his inclination to hear the latest news from home. The little bark wore around and came on the same tack with the Catalpa, but she was soon left far astern.
At midnight, however, the wind died out, and the next day the little bark was in sight. The weather was genial, the sun glowing, and to all appearances there never blew a gale over so placid a sea. Captain Anthony decided to speak the vessel. So he hauled aback, and when the stranger came up, lowered a boat and boarded her. She proved to be the Platina of New Bedford. Captain Walter Howland, who commanded her, was an intimate friend, but Captain Anthony was not so well pleased at the meeting as he might have been under other circumstances. The Platina was four months out from home and had fifty barrels of oil.
"What under heavens are you doing here, Anthony," said Captain Howland. "You're the last man I expected to see out here. I thought you intended to make a short voyage in the North Atlantic."