Deck and Port; or, Incidents of a cruise in the United States frigate Congress to California, with sketches of Rio Janeiro, Valparaiso, Lima, etc

Preface

. On joining the United States frigate Con gress, fitting for sea, at Norfolk, and destined to the Pacific, I commenced a journal, in which I sketched down the incidents of each day, as they occurred. It was more a whim of the hour, than any purpose connected with the public press. It was a diverting experi ment on the monotony of a sea-life ; was continued because it had been begun — and the present volume is the result. The streamlet flows from gathered drops. I send it to the press as it was written, except the division into chapters, which has X

PREFACE.

. been made at the suggestion of the pub lishers, who, perhaps, think the yarn will reel better if the thread be broken. It undoubtedly contains passages which may seem light and irrelevant; but a diary has privileges, in this respect, which are not extended to com positions of a graver character. He who gathers what the chance wind may shake from the trees of his garden, will find some leaves as well as fruit in his basket ; and he may find there the nest of some insect that has a sting in it, but this he has no right to send to market. He may send the leaves — perhaps their sear hues may set off the bloom of his fruit, as a wrinkle the rouge through which age sometimes seeks to blush back again into youth. CONTENTS

Chapter I

— Preparations for the voyage. i>age. Orders to the Congress. Passengers' poop-eabin. Passing the United States ship Pennsylvania. Divine Service. Waiting the wind. Rip-raps. Internal arrangements. Library of the crew. Ship cheered. Departure of the pilot 15

CHAPTER IL

— Passage from Norfolk to Rio de Janeiro. A culprit. Corporeal punishments. Divine service. A bird. A gale. Grandeur of the Gulf Stream. Man missing. Tracts on board. Water-spout. Life at sea. An eclipse. The sick bay. Moral mechanism of a man-of-war. Speaking a brig. Departure of Mr. Beale. Death of Spillier. Astor- House sailor. Universalist chaplain. A petrel. Speaking a ship. Departure of Mr. Norris. Crossing the Equator. Southern constellation. A man lost. " Land ho !" 22

CHAPTER IIL

— Rio de Janeiro. Bay of Rio. Scenery. Aspect of the city. Royal palace and chapel. Lancers and baby. Miseracordia. Aqueduct. Morning ride. Botanic garden. Tea-plant. The Sabbath in Rio. Museum. Nunnery. Jealousy of husbands. A pompous funeral. The Plymouth. Honourable Henry A. Wise. Slave-trade. Marriages and domestic arrangements. Political condition of the Brazilians. Treatment of the slaves. Rehgion. Washerwomen. San Antonio. Climate. The unknown couple. Diamonds. Farewell to Rio 70

CHAPTER IV.

— Passage from Rio to Cape Horn. Getting under way. The letter-bag. Runaway sailor. Isle of St. Catharine. Pamperoes. The shotted gun. Loss CONTENTS. XII face. of our coon. The sailor and shark. General quarters at night. Fireworks in the sea. The phantom ship. Patagonians. The Falkland Islands. The captured albatross. Terrific gale. Condition of our frigate. The sailor s burial. The Cape of Storms J,)

CHAPTER V.

— Passage from Cape Horn to Valparaiso. Gale. Habits of the Albatross and Penguin. The Sea off Cape Horn. Sleet and Hail. Farewell to the Cape. Directions for doubling the Cape. Gale in the Pacific. Appearance of the Stars. A Rainbow. Divine Service. The Razor at Sea. The Little Bark. Plum Pudding and Tripe. The Cordilleras. Arrival at Valparaiso 1-3 CHAPTER VT. — Sketches of Valparaiso. Aspect of the city. Groups on the quay. Chilian horsemanship. The women. Huts of the natives. American and English society. Opera-house. The Tertulia. Mode of travelling. Police of the city. Visits from the shore. Feudal system. The clergy. The Bible in Chili. The Confessional. Burial ground. The Indian mother. Political condition of Chili. Farewell to Valparaiso 150

CHAPTER VII.

— Passage from Valparaiso to Callao. Flare up of the Pacific. Songs of seamen. Sailors on shore. Loss of the Sampson of our ship. The setting sun at sea. Our Astor-House sailor. The mad poet of the crew. " Land ho !" Aspect of Callao. Appearance of the natives. The burial isle 171 CHAPTER YIIL— Sketches of Lima. Incidents of the road. The grand plaza. Shops and houses. The saya y manto. American lady. Mixture of races. Demeanour of girls and boys. Procession on Palm Sunday. Convent of the Franciscans. Doctors of Lima. Good Friday. The Last Supper. Pilate's court. Garden of Gethsemane. Close of Lent. Jubilations. Climate. An officer in prison. Lawyers. The Indian's eyrie. The Lottery. Bull-fight. . . . 183

CHAPTER IX.

— Sketches of Lima. Education of females. Marriages. Lapses from virtue. The sunset bell. Silk factory in a convent. Habits of the Indians The half wedlock. Blind pedlar. Protestant youth in Lima. Religion of the Limanians. Intrigues at Court. CONTENTS. XIII PAGE. Modes of living. The Zampas. Churches. Indian doctors. Fruits of the country. Old Spanish families. Masses for the repose of the soul 206

CHAPTER X.

— Passage from Calico to Honolulu. Departure from Callao. The rum smuggler. Sunset. Sea-birds. A sailor's defence. General quarters. Spirit ration. The sailor and religion. The flag. Sagacity of the rat. The cloud. Calms and showers. Religious tracts. Constellations. Trade winds. Conduct of the crew. Moon in the zenith. Lay sermon. Funeral. " Land ho !" 231

CHAPTER XI.

— Sketches of Honolulu. Bay of Honolulu. Kanacka funeral. The missionaries. Huts and habits of the natives. Taro-plant. Roast dog. School of the young chiefs. Ride in the country. The Mausoleum. Cocoanut-tree. Canoes. Heathen temple. King's chapel. Ride to Ewa. Father Bishop. His sable flock .... 254

CHAPTER XII.

— Sketches of Honolulu. The King and Court. American commissioner. Royal residence. The Salt Lake. Surf sports of the natives. Gala day. The women on horseback. Sailor's equestrianism. The old man and the children at play. Address of Commodore Stockton. Captain La Place. His Jesuits and brandy. Lord George Paulet 369

CHAPTER XIIL

— Passage from Honolulu to Monterey. The moral pharos. The Mormon ship. Bible class. The sea-lien. Our insane sailor. Fourth of July. Profaneness at sea. Evening prayer-meeting. FuncraL Target firing. Religious condition of the crew. Anchor under Monterey . . 263

CHAPTER XIV.

— Glances into California. Sailors on shore as soldiers. The bear flag. Captain Fremont and armed band. Departure of Admiral Seymour. San Francisco. Aspect of the town. Habits of the people. Spirit of speculation. Gambling. Effects of tlie gold mines. Past and present condition of the country

CHAPTER I. PREPARATIONS FOR THE VOYAGE.

Orders to the Congress. Passengers' poop-cabin. Passing the United States' ship Pennsylvania. Divine service. Waiting the wind. Rip-raps. Internal arrangements. Library of the crew. Ship cheered. Departure of the pilot. " To sea ! to sea ! thy soft shore life Must wrestle on the deck. Where winds and waters meet in strife, To revel o'er the wreck." While enjoying the luxury of sea-bathing at Sachem's Head, I received an order to report for duty on board the United States Frigate Congress, fitting for sea at Norfolk. The order came as unexpectedly as thunder out of a cloudless sky. But never having declined an order of the department during the many years that I have been in the navy, I determined not to dishonour a good rule on this occasion, and informed the secretary that I should report agreeable to his instructions, but requested the indulgence of a few days in which to make my preparations.

The reply was, that the ship was ready for sea, that the other officers were on board, and I must hasten at once to my post. My trunks were immediately packed, my books boxed, and in twenty-four hours I was on board the Congress. Home, and all that makes that home dear, exchanged at once for the bustle of a man-of-war ! It was like throwing a bird from its nest upon the whirlwind : not that I have anything in common with a bird, unless it be a sort of involuntary cheerfulness when the storm-cloud has passed. I have never yet met with a picture all the features of which were dark. There is a star even in the night of the grave. I found the frigate nearly ready for sea. The honourable secretary, as if to hasten our departure, paid us a farewell visit. We returned the compli ment in a parting salute.

We were now ready to weigh anchor and make sail, when an order came for us to take out as passengers a commissioner and a consul to the Sandwieh Islands, with their families, twelve individuals in all. The question was, where shall they be accommodated ? Every part of the ship was already occupied. Another order soon came for the construction of a poop-cabin. Some thirty carpenters were immediately set at work, but its completion occupied three weeks. In the meantime, some of the officers, whose homes were less remote, had an opportunity of visiting their families. I was enabled to finish my preparations, complete my ward robe, and take a decent leave of one from whom I had been hurried away as the culprit, " Who fitted the halter and traversed the cart, And often looked back as if loath to depart."

Saturday, Oct. 25, 1845. The poop-cabin being finished, commissioner, consul, and families, quartered in it, stores laid in, the commodore on board, an order was given to unmoor. In a few minutes our preparations kor the voyage. 17 anchors were up, and we were proceeding under a light land-breeze towards the sea. Passing the Penn sylvania, where she lay in her majesty and strength, we gave her a parting salate, which she returned in thunder from her frowning batteries. She frowned not on us ; she seemed to grieve, " if aught inanimate e'er grieves," that she must lie there and rot, and we be bounding over the billows. She seemed like a daring eagle that has never been permitted to soar into its element and unfurl its strong pinions on the storm. The Titan, chained to the Caucasian rock, stayed his proud heart on his past triumphs, but this noble ship perishes without a solitary achievement to relieve her indignanj doom.

On reaching Hamp ton Roads the wind came out ahead, and we were obliged to let go our anchors. An air of disappointment was visible among the crew. I once started on a journey in a splendid carriage, broke down in sight of my own home, and learned a lesson of sub mission that will never wholly desert me. Calamities are our best instructors. Sunday, Oct. 26. The wind still ahead. This being the Sabbath, we had divine service. The crew were attentive : not the rustle of a hand or foot disturbed the stillness ; the speaker's voice only broke the silence of the deck. The text was the injunction of the prophet, " Co up now, look towards the sea." The object of the speaker was to sketch the stern magnificence of the ocean as illustrating the majesty of God ; to exhibit the effects of an ocean life on the social and moral character of man ; and to inculcate the great lesson, that into whatever seas we may penetrate, through whatever seas we may pass, we cannot escape from the presence of the Deity.

The effects of our moral teachings may, in many instances, never be revealed in this life, but the time B will come, when they will be fully recognised. They are like underground streams which will yet rush to the light. Monday, Oct. 27. Still in Hampton Roads. The day has passed with scarce a breath of wind from any quarter. The sun has set in gorgeous splendour. Evening has spread its purple light over sea and land. Only here and there a cloud floats through the star lit depths of heaven The fortress of the old Rip raps lifts its giant form in savage grandeur from the wave ; and yet the moonlight sleeps upon it so lovingly, you half forget its chained thunder. It seems as some submarine monster that had shoved its head up through the sea, to glance at the wonders of earth. Gaze on, thou Titan of the deep !

Thou hearest not the death-knell which shakes the heart of nations : thou seest only the verdure which waves in fragrant life and beauty over the dust of ages. Thou heedest not the sorrows of the millions that have sunk into the silent shroud. Earth is a char nel-house, but thou knowest it not. It is Death's empire. Go, look into some world where sin hath not been, and where man has not marred the works of his Maker. Tuesday, Oct. 28. Our ship still riding in the Roads, with forty sail around wind-bound like our selves. We went to general quarters at ten o'clock, exercised the guns, passed powder, called away the boarders, and went through all the forms of a real engagement at sea. It is singular what an enthusiasm even a mimic battle can create ; what then must be the excitement of the reality !

The sailors are proud of our frigate : and well may they be; she is a splendid specimen of naval architecture. For capacity, strength, and harmony of proportions she PREPARATIONS FOR THE VOYAGE. 19 stands in her class without a rival in the world. She is so much a favourite in the service that one old sailor travelled all the way from Pensacola to Nor folk in the mail stage, and at his own expense, to join her. We had our complement of seamen, but his was so strong a case he could not be denied. We number about five hundred souls, all told ; have laid in provisions and fuel for five month.*, with fifty thousand gallons of water, and sails and rigging sufficient to replace what is now in use, should emer gency demand. How such a mass of life aDd material can be brought within a frigate's capacity, and yet leave " scope and verge" enough for action and repose, is a mystery which can be comprehended only by those who are versed in nautical economy.

The housewife who grumbles over the intrusion of an additional piece of furniture, should look into a man of-war. and she will go home with the conviction that she can sleep quite comfortably in the cradle with her infant. How beautiful is an infant waking out of its sweet slumber, and opening its soft blue eyes upon the face of its mother ! But what has this to do with our getting under way I Wednesday, Oct. 29. Our anchors still sleep in the sands of Hampton Roads — a slumber which we now think the morrow will break. The wind his been light and varying, but inclining towards the right quarter, though hesitatingly, as a diffident youth in his first declaration of love. How the words on such an occasion will stick in a man's threat ! — worse, indeed, than Macbeth's prayer, trying to struggle up from the grasp of his guilty conscience.

I have been occupied to-day in arranging in suitable cases the library of the crew — a library com prising between three and four hundred volumes. For many of the miscellaneous and religious books in this library I am indebted to the Presbyterian Board of Publication, to the Sunday School Union, to the American Tract Society, and to the liberality of Com modore Stockton. My acknowledgments are also due to the American Bible Society for a donation of Bibles adequate to the wants of the crew. No national ship ever left a port of the United States more amply pro vided with books suited to the habits and capaci ties of those on board. This desideratum has been supplied, so far as the crew is concerned, with compa ratively little aid from the department. The government furnishes the sailor with grog to burn up his body — a Christian liberality with books to save his soul.

The whisky ration is a curse to the service, and a damning blot on our national legislation. Thursday-, Oct. 30. The long-looked-for breeze came at last. It was a south-wester ; and at day light this morning we weighed anchor and got under way. When we had cleared the capes of Old Virginia, all hands were called, and Commodore Stockton delivered the following brief and appropri ate address to the officers and crew : — L' Captain Du Pont and officers — " Your reputation in the service is a sufficient guarantee that the cruise before us will enlist your highest energies and zeal. " Men — " Your conduct since you have been on board this ship justifies the strongest confidence in your fidelity. Above us floats the flag of our country ; to your pa triotism and undaunted valour I entrust its honour, dearer to me than life.

We now sail for California and Oregon, and then, where it may please Heaven." Then, turning to the chaplain, he said — PREPARATIONS FOR THE VOY'AGE. " You will offer up our prayers to Almighty God for his protection." This service performed, the broad pennant wTas sa luted, the ship cheered, and the band struck up " Hail Columbia." The whole ceremony was well calculated to inspire a jealous regard for the honour of our flag, and impress sentiments of dependence on the Divine protection — so well becoming 'those who go down to the sea in ships, who do business on the great waters, and who see the wonders of the Lord in the deep. Commodore Stockton invited the officers into the cabin to an elegant entertainment. Sentiments con nected with country, home, and those left behind, passed feelingly around.

The pilot now took his de parture with our letter-bag. How many affections, hopes, and fears, that little hasty mail took back ! If you would know how dear home is, start on a three years' cruise. How the heart clings to the living, recalls the dead, and restores the forgotten ! How all animosities die and give place to love ! I do not wonder the Greek and Roman dreaded exile more than death. What is earth without a home ? Farewell! the shore is fading fast, The wind is piping free, The pennant, from our gallant mast, Points to the durk blue sea

Chapter II. Passage From Norfolk To Rio De Janeiro

A culprit. Corporeal punishments. Divine service. A bird. A gale. Grandeur of the Gulf Stream. Man missing. Tracts on board. Water-spout. Life at sea. An eclipse. The sick bay. Moral mechanism of a man-of-war. Speaking a brig. Departure of Mr. Beale. Death of Spillier. Astor-House sailor. Universalist chaplain. A petrel. Speaking a ship. Departure of Mr. Norris. Crossing the Equator. Southern constellation. A man lost. " Land ho !" " The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, And merrily did wedrop Belo* the kirk, below the hill. Below the lighthouse top." Friday-, Oct. 31. A brilliant soft atmosphere; a light breeze from the south-west ; average log, three knots ; sounded in thirty-six fathoms ; a sand and shell bottom ; exercised the men at the guns from ten to twelve o'clock ; loaded the guns a little before sunset.

One of the crew, after nightfall, watched his op portunity and knocked down a marine. The aggressor is one of those hardened fellows where the hope of re formation seems to despair in its work. He was flogged but a few days since for an aggravated offeDce. He has cruised before, and been notorious for his bad conduct. The best thing that could be done with him would be to turn him out of the ship, but the law don't allow this. The next best thing is to try him NORFOLK TO RIO DE JANERIO. by a court-martial, and award him a punishment that will linger with terror in his memory. I am opposed to severity when milder measures will avail ; but le niency to the incorrigible is destructive of discipline. Corporeal punishments are opposed to the spirit of the age ; but he would be worthy a monument who could invent an adequate substitute on board a man of-war.

It is easy to pull down a house, but not so easy to build another on its ruins. Still the power to inflict corporeal punishment is so liable to abuse, and is so often abused, I do not wonder public sentiment seems to demand its abolition. Could sailors be brought thoroughly under moral influences, it might be easily dispensed with. Virtue has motives and impulses to good conduct stronger than those ever wielded by physical force. The best obedience is that which flows from moral rectitude. Saturday-, Nov. 1. The high temperature of the water, which my boy brought me this morning tin bathing, indicated that we were in the Culf Stream. On inquiry, I ascertained that during the night we had penetrated near to its centre. This great river ofthe ocean holds its majestic course in seeming independence of the vast and violent elements through which it moves.

Storms may howl over it, and con flicting currents fiercely assail it, but it moves on in the tranquil greatness of its unabated strength, it never stops to parley with its adversaries, proposes no terms, accepts none ; but like a brave champion of truth, moves steadily to its goal. In its equanimity, its fidelity to one great purpose, and its triumph, the God of Nature utters a moral lesson in the ear of nations. Our coursers, topsails, top-gallant, and studding sails are set to a free, fresh wind from the south-west, and we are making ten knots the hour. Our ship has been too much by the stern, but the removal of four of her spar-deck guns from her after to her forw-ard ports, has brought her more by the head, and she sails better. Her constructor conjectured that if deep, she would sail better by being at least fifteen inches by the head.

His conjecture turns out to be correct. She is now moving through the waters as if she had an exulting pride in her occupation. I do not wonder sailors regard a fast ship as a thing of life, and speak of her with an affection applicable only to the higher attributes of humanity. She is indeed the highest triumph of human skill — the noblest representative of art. Sunday, Nov. 2. The Sabbath. The force ofthe wind and the roll of the ship might have excused divine service with those disposed to find an apology for such omission. But we have commenced the cruise with the determination to have service every Sabbath when it is at all practicable. Regularity in this duty promotes regularity in every other. The discipline of a man-of-war lies in the fact that nothing is omitted that ought to be done.

Besides what more appropriate for men, tost on the howling waste of the ocean, than a recognised dependence on that Being who binds the elements at his will ; who can say to the rushing storm and chainless wave, " Hither to shall ye come and no further, and here shall your proud strength be stayed." Last evening a bird flew on board. He had been driven far out to sea in a gale, and now timidly sought our spars as a place of rest. No one was allowed to molest him for the night ; in the morning, turning his eyes in that direction where the land lay, though some three hundred miles off, he bade us adieu and disap peared in the distant horizon. A safe passage to him and a speedy return to those left behind ! He, too, has his home, and those there who make that home dear ; and though but a bird of the wild wood, he shares the benevolent regard of One whose care extends to the falling sparrow, and who hears the young raven when it cries.

If the bird, whose wing is thrown on the wind to -day, and furled in death to-morrow, may share the guardianship of the great Parent of all, much more man with his boundless sympathies and immortal hopes. Monday-, Nov. 3. The wind last night hauled several points to the east, and forced us north of our true course. We have been waiting for it to haul back, but it seems to have settled down as if deter mined to make itself at home in its new quarter. Well, let it stay there, if it will, and I will ponder these lines which I find inclosed in my last letter from home. THE SAILOR'S WIFE. Thou o'er the world and I at home, But one may linger, the other may mam. Yet our hearts will flee o'er the sounding sea, Mine to thy bosom, and thine to me. Thy lot is the toil of a roving life, Chances and changes, sorrow and strife — Yet is piine more drear to linger here — In a ceaseless, changeless war with fear.

I watch the sky by the stars' pale light, Till the day-dawn breaketh on gloomy night, And the wind's low tone hath a dreary moan That comes to my heart as I weep alone. With the morning light, oh ! would I could see Thy white sail far on the breaking sea, And welcome thee home, o'er the wild wave's foam, And bid thee no more from my side to roam. Tuesday, Nov. 4. The sun rose this morning with that look of darkness and flame winch tho monarch of the seasons puts on when tempests are abroad in his domain. Yet he drove his flashing chariot up the lowering steep of clouds with a fleet ness and force which indicated no disposition to re sign his sceptre. The glance of his eye kindled the ridges of the black masses around into lines of fire, and revealed the caverns of darkness which stretched away in their unfathomed folds.

The roused ocean threw up its howling billows as if in stern defiance. It was evident we were to have a conflict of the giant elements. They rushed into the battle like foes who neither give nor crave quarter. The roar of the tempest above, the thunder of the sea below, the careering squadrons of clouds, and the dark defiant waves, as they rushed into combat, add ed sublimity to terror. Our ship was not an idle spectator ; she plunged into the thickest of the fight, and with wings furled and a steady keel, presented her frowning mass of exulting courage and strength ; she trembled but not with fear, she wavered but not from want of valour. Wave after wave of the great ocean rolled its massive strength against her, but she met each successive shock with dauntless intrepidity. Night at last closed over the conflict, and the light nings lit the watch-fires of the hostile squadrons.

The moon broke through a rift in the black masses, and cast her soft light on the savage features of the scene. So rose she over Thermopylæ, and Waterloo, and blushed at the havoc of human ambition. Wednesday-, Nov. 5. The gale of yesterday in creasing at night-fall, we sent down our fore and mizzen top-gallant masts, and put our ship under close-reefed main top-sail, fore storm stay-sail, fore and mizzen try-sails. Thus she lay like a crouched lion. Darkness was on the face of the deep, save here and there, where a falling meteor threw its transient light on the foaming crest of some towering wave. As the soaring billow combed over, sheets of lighted foam rolled down into the intervening gulfs of night, and then succeeded a darkness that might be felt. As the heavy bell struck the hours, the voices of the watch from different parts of the ship came like broken tones from unseen sources.

The hollow sound of the storm through the rigging, made it seem as if the very winds were pouring our death dirge. But a little after" midnight the gale broke. It broke suddenly as the hope of the wicked at death. But the driving waves still remained, dark and tu multuous as the convulsions of guilt in despair. Our ship, without wind or sail to steady her, plunged blindly about. She had scarcely a dry foot of plank in her, and yet multitudes slept soundly that night. Such is life at sea. The resistless gale and the dead calm follow each other with the fickleness of an ini weaned child over its toys. And a proud man sub mits, as well he may ; for he cannot help it. We are always reconciled to that which is remediless. Even death seems to lose its terrors in its inevitability. Thursday, Nov. 6.

At quarters, this morning, one of the crew, John Amey, was missing at his post. His name was called through the ship, but there was no reply. All the decks and the hold were searched, but he was nowhere to be found. He was last seen between seven and eight bells of the mid-watch. He had not been well since we left Norfolk, had complained of his head, of an oppression on the brain, and had evinced at times, in the incohercncy of his remarks, symptoms of insanity. He had most un doubtedly, in a paroxysm of this disease, jumped out of one of the ports, and perished. The watch might perhaps have heard him as he fell into the water, but for the high sea that was running at the time.* He had shipped from Philadelphia, where he left a sister, of whom he often spoke with tenderness and affection. He was prompt and faithful in the discharge of his duties, and had been promised promotion.

But he is now where the frowns or caresses of fortune can never reach him. His sister will long wait and watch for his return, and will long doubt in her amazement and tears the story of his death. But he has gone to that silent bourne from which nor wave, nor sail, nor mariner, has e'er returned, nor one fond farewell word traversed the waters back. He will reappear no more, till the signal-trump of the arch angel shall summon the sea to give up her dead. He will then, wrapped in the winding-sheet of the wave, appear at the tribunal where Infinite rectitude will sit in judgment on the deeds of men. Friday, Nov. 7. All hands were mustered this morning on the spar-deck by order of the commodore, and the untimely death of poor Amey was announced to the crew. The chaplain was called upon for such remarks as the melancholy event suggested.