1808: The Flight of the Emperor (7 page)

VII

The Voyage

D
esigned to prevent seawater infiltration and to survive the most violent ocean storms, Portuguese ships two centuries ago resembled hermetically sealed wooden compartments with small hatches that remained shut most of the time. The atmosphere inside, lacking ventilation, was asphyxiating. During the day, under the equatorial sun, they became floating saunas. The ships had neither running water nor toilets. To attend to bodily necessities, mariners and passengers alike used cloacas—platforms tied to the bow, suspended over the gunwales of the ships, through which they defecated directly into the sea.
1

The menu consisted of biscuits, lentils, olive oil, sour cabbage, and salted pork or cod. But in the suffocating heat of the tropics, rats, cockroaches, and weevils infested the stored rations. Contaminated by bacteria and fungus, water putrefied quickly. For just this reason, the regular beverage on British ships was beer. On Portuguese, Spanish, and French ships, the seafarers drank wine of poor quality. The lack of fruits and fresh foods caused one of the greatest threats on long voyages: scurvy, a fatal disease caused by a vitamin C deficiency. Its weakened victims burned with fever and suffered excruciating pain. Gums became gangrenous, and even a gentle touch could knock teeth clear of a jaw. By coincidence, 1808 was the first year that the young navy of the fledgling United States of America distributed doses of
vitamin C among its crews to prevent the disease. In tropical regions, other threats included dysentery and typhoid, caused by lack of proper hygiene and contamination of food and water.
2
“The water supply was insufficient, food ran short, and plague beset the
émigrés
in the crowded and unhygienic quarters,” records historian Alan Manchester of the Portuguese fleet.
3

Shortly after arriving in Rio de Janeiro in 1811, Luiz dos Santos Marrocos wrote his father a letter that provides an idea of the discomfort involved in sailing across the Atlantic. Cramped and bumpy, the ship was thrown from one side to the other by the waves:

My dearest father and master of my heart,

It merits serious consideration, the discomfort suffered by one not used to sailing, especially if he has threatening illnesses requiring care, and must restrain himself from coughing, sneezing, or blowing his nose. . . . It is injurious, and of greatest consequences, to expose oneself to the seasickness that wrenches one's entrails and bursts one's veins, a torment lasting days, weeks, and sometimes even the whole trip. Besides this, the shock of the sea, thunderstorms and downpours, the rocking and dipping of the ship are no laughing matter for anyone who is refined.
4

To avoid disease and the spread of plague, commanding officers required linens and the ships themselves always to be clean through rigorous discipline. In this regard, the British Navy serves as a paragon. In times of war, Britain stationed more than 60,000 men aboard its gigantic fleet—a number equal to the entire population of Rio de Janeiro in 1808. For these sailors, life at sea began early, often before adolescence. At seventeen, they already had become trained professionals. But a steadily substandard diet and grueling work, without breaks or comfort of any kind, shortened their careers to a maximum of ten to fifteen years. Life expectancy didn't extend much beyond age forty except for the very lucky.
5

Aboard British ships, sleeping on duty, disrespecting a superior, or attending to bodily necessities on deck instead of using the rudimentary cloacas represented grave misdeeds. The punishments for putting the crew in danger, which included failing to respect the rules of hygiene and cleanliness,
came down hard and severe. In such cases, sailors could be flogged. In more grave cases, the captain had the authority to have them hanged. Such punishment, always on public display, served as an example for other members of the crew.

The logbooks of the British ships accompanying the Portuguese royal family to Brazil, published in 1995 by historian Kenneth Light, reveal the harsh routine of onboard discipline:

Diary onboard the HMS
Bedford
:

“5 December 1807: James Tacey, 48 lashes for negligence of duty;

14 December: John Legg, 12 lashes for negligence;

24 December: Hugh Davis, 24 lashes for negligence and disrespect; Neal McDougal, 24 lashes for negligence and attempting to incite mutiny; Thos Mirrins, 3 lashes for negligence.”

Diary onboard the corvette HMS
Confiance
:

“23 November: Got Horp, 36 lashes for desertion; Mcdougold, 36 for insolent behavior; Staith, 18 more for negligence.”
6

In 1807, it took the Portuguese fleet nearly two months to cross the Atlantic Ocean. The reports of the trip are incomplete and confused, but the voyage clearly teemed with malady and suffering. Antiquated and badly equipped, the vessels and frigates from Portugal heaved with crowds. The captain's ship, the
Royal Prince,
which conveyed Prince João and Queen Maria I across the troubled waters, carried 1,054 people.
7
We can imagine the disarray. Even with three quarterdecks for the battery of eighty-four cannons and a cellar full of cargo, at 220 feet long and 55 feet wide, the ship simply didn't have space for all her passengers.
8
Many slept on deck in the open air.

On the first days of the voyage, while the ships still sailed the waters of the northern hemisphere, strong waves pitched cold water onto the overloaded quarterdecks, where sailors worked in thick fog and cold gusts of wind. Hulls leaked, and the boats filled with water relentlessly. Many sails and ropes had rotted. Timbers groaned under the waves and wind, spreading panic among passengers unused to the roughness of the seas. Nausea overtook every ship.

The haste of departure and the miserable state of the Portuguese Navy further increased the journey's discomfort. A third of the ships that Prince João had at his disposal before setting sail were left abandoned in the port of Lisbon at the mercy of the French invaders. They were useless.
9
“The fleet left the Tagus in such haste that very few of the merchant ships had rations or water for more than three weeks to a month,” wrote Lord Strangford. “Many warships found themselves in the same state, and Sir Sidney Smith is of the opinion that most of the convoy should head towards England in order to stock up on provisions.”
10

On the eve of departure, a report summarized the startling shortcomings of the Portuguese fleet:

Queen of Portugal:
in need of 27 tanks of water, all are empty

Frigate Minerva:
has only 60 tanks of water

Count Henrique:
has 6 empty tanks, needs apothecary

Golphinho:
has 6 empty tanks, lacks apothecary, hens, and firewood

Urânia:
lacks firewood

Vingança:
lacks water and firewood

Royal Prince:
needs an apothecary, hens, cables, wax, 20 tanks of water, cleats, a chip log, and firewood

Flyer:
lacks three tanks of water

Prince of Brazil:
lacks olive oil, wax, cables, thirty tanks of water, firewood, and a chip log
11

At the end of the afternoon of the first day of travel, after performing the protocol of trading volleys of cannon fire, the combined fleet remained stationed near the Portuguese coast for the final inspections before crossing the Atlantic. At around 4 p.m., Lord Strangford and Admiral Sidney Smith visited Prince João aboard the
Royal Prince.
Both Britons considered the conditions far short of the needs of the prince regent. The atmosphere was grim and depressing, as Strangford recorded in one of his dispatches to London. “It is impossible to describe the situation of these distinguished persons, their discomfort, the patience and resignation with which they have tolerated the deprivations and difficulties resulting from the transfer of the capital.”
12
Smith offered to convey the prince regent on the
Hibernia,
lead ship of the English fleet, a new and more comfortable vessel. But João refused. The Portuguese court already felt more than sufficiently beholden to and dependent upon Britain. Traveling as a guest of the British commander would send a politically heavy and undesirable message.

The meeting among Strangford, Smith, and the prince lasted nearly three hours, during which they discussed the final details of the voyage. In case of any unexpected event while crossing, a contingency plan directed that all ships head toward the island of São Tiago in the archipelago of Cape Verde, where the fleet would regroup before proceeding to Rio de Janeiro. The only exception was the
Medusa,
which, bearing the ministers Antonio de Araújo, José Egydio, and Thomaz Antonio, would sail directly to Bahia.
13

The meeting had barely ended when an abrupt change of weather took the passengers and crew by surprise. The wind—until then pushing the ships further into the ocean—changed course and blew strongly on a diagonal, perpendicular to the direction from which they embarked and directly opposite to the planned course. By nightfall, the wind had gathered the force of a storm that threatened to push the entire fleet back to the Portuguese coast, already occupied by French troops. After much anguish and tension,
the commanding officers decided to take advantage of the windstorm and navigated northwest, as if heading toward Canada. This change of course would keep the ships at high sea, preventing them from being pushed back to shore. Only on the fourth day, having traversed more than 160 nautical miles, could they finally correct their sails and head southwest toward Brazil.
14

At this point, at a safe distance from the Portuguese coast, the ships gathered one more time for inspections. One small warship, considered too fragile to cross the ocean, was sent back to Lisbon, where French troops immediately apprehended it. British officials also deemed a second ship inadequate for such a long voyage, but the Portuguese decided to risk it. Luckily, no vessels suffered shipwreck, although some arrived at Brazil in a pitiful state.

On December 5, approximately midway between Lisbon and Funchal, on the island of Madeira, the British fleet divided itself in half. One part, under the command of Admiral Smith, changed course and, after a farewell exchange of volleys with the Portuguese fleet, returned to the now occupied Lisbon blockade. The other half, composed of the
Marlborough, London, Bedford,
and
Monarch,
under the command of Captain Graham Moore, continued escorting the Portuguese fleet to Brazil.
15
Lord Strangford, the architect of the flight of the royal family, also returned to England. A few months later, he and Smith would meet again with Prince João in Rio de Janeiro.

A little more than week after the departure, on December 8, just before approaching the Madeira archipelago, a thick fog enveloped everything. “It was so heavy that we could not see beyond a distance equal to three lengths of the ship,” wrote Captain James Walker aboard the HMS
Bedford,
a seventy-four-cannon vessel that began plying the world's waters in 1775.
16
But the worst hadn't arrived yet. As soon as darkness fell, a violent storm further tormented the ships. Powerful winds whipped the decaying sails as the crew desperately tried to keep them fixed to the masts.

The danger lay not on the ships themselves, but deep within the black of night blanketed by fog. A point known as the Eight Rocks, north of Porto Santo in the Madeira archipelago, posed a mortal pitfall for less experienced
sailors. The partially submerged rocks had caused the wrecks of innumerable ships. To avoid this risk, the commanders of the fleet decided to wait for the weather to improve.
17
The result surprised everyone: By dawn the next day, some of the ships had disappeared. Winds had dispersed the fleet during the night, and no one had noticed. “In the light of day, not a ship is in sight,” recorded James Walker in his captain's log in the early hours of December 9.

The storm continued for two days without respite. In the early morning of the 10th, the sail of the main mast of the
Bedford
was destroyed. While the crew tried to repair the damage, a violent gust of wind flung a sailor named George Green into the sea. A small rescue boat was sent to save him. After various attempts amid strong waves, the rescue party saved Green from death and brought him back aboard—to the relief of the entire crew.
18

On the Portuguese ships the damage was even greater. The main mast of the
Medusa,
which, according to the contingency plan, was making for Bahia, broke into pieces and came crashing down. Shortly thereafter, the third mast snapped, leaving the ship adrift in a choppy sea. “The great mast went without sails and collapsed because it was completely rotten,” witnessed Antonio de Araújo e Azevedo, future count of Barca. “The corporals are furious. Everything has contributed to putting our lives in danger and owes much to the activity and intelligence of the command of a few officials.”
19

The hours following the storm swarmed with confusion and uncertainty. Dispersed by the winds, the fleet followed different routes. Half the ships, including the
Royal Prince
and the
Afonso de Albuquerque,
sailed northwest. The rest of the fleet maintained a southwesterly course, in the direction of the agreed meeting place, the Cape Verde archipelago. The
Queen of Portugal,
damaged and transporting two of the prince's daughters, began to lose track of the rest of the convoy but arrived in Cape Verde, where it underwent repairs before continuing on.

After the seas had calmed, Princess Carlota Joaquina and her daughters decided to visit Prince João and Queen Maria I aboard the
Royal Prince.
They achieved this visit by means of a small boat hoisted by sailors over the gunwales and onto the ship. It was the royal family's last contact before arriving in Brazil five weeks later. It was also the point at which Prince João decided to make for Bahia instead of Rio de Janeiro as planned.