Afloat and Ashore (27 page)

"What a strange delusion is this!" I thought to myself, and turned to
look at my companions, when I found all looking, one at the other, as
if to ask a common explanation.

"There is no mistake here," said captain Williams, quietly. "That is
land
, gentlemen."

"As true as the gospel," answered Marble, with the sort of steadiness
despair sometimes gives. "What is to be done, sir?"

"What
can
be done, Mr. Marble?—We have not room to ware, and,
of the two, there seems, so far as I can judge more sea-room ahead
than astern."

This was so apparent, there was no disputing it. We could still see
the land, looking low, chill, and of the hue of November; and we could
also perceive that ahead, if anything, it fell off a little towards
the northward, while astern it seemingly stretched in a due line with
our course. That we passed it with great velocity, too, was a
circumstance that our eyes showed us too plainly to admit of any
mistake. As the ship was still without a rag of sail, borne down by
the wind as she had been for hours, and burying to her hawse-holes
forward, it was only to a racing tide, or current of some sort, that
we could be indebted for our speed. We tried the lead, and got bottom
in six fathoms!

The captain and Marble now held a serious consultation; That the ship
was entering some sort of an estuary was certain, but of what depth,
how far favoured by a holding ground, or how far without any anchorage
at all, were facts that defied our inquiries. We knew that the land
called Terra del Fuego was, in truth, a cluster of islands,
intersected by various channels and passages, into which ships had
occasionally ventured, though their navigation had never led to any
other results than some immaterial discoveries in geography. That we
were entering one of these passages, and under favourable
circumstances, though so purely accidental, was the common belief; and
it only remained to look out for the best anchorage, while we had
day-light. Fortunately, as we drove into the bay, or passage, or what
ever it was, the tempest lifted less spray from the water, and, owing
to this and other causes, the atmosphere gradually grew clearer. By
ten o'clock, we could see fully a league, though I can hardly say that
the wind blew less fiercely than before. As for sea, there was none,
or next to none; the water being as smooth as in a river.

The day drew on, and we began to feel increased uneasiness at the
novelty of our situation. Our hope and expectation were to find some
anchorage; but to obtain this it was indispensable also to find a
lee. As the ship moved forward, we still kept the land in view, on our
starboard hand, but that was a lee, instead of a weather shore; the
last alone could give our ground-tackle any chance, whatever, in such
a tempest. We were drawing gradually away from this shore, too, which
trended more northerly, giving us additional sea-room. The fact that
we were in a powerful tide's way, puzzled us the most. There was but
one mode of accounting for the circumstance. Had we entered a bay, the
current must have been less, and it seemed necessary there should be
some outlet to such a swift accumulation of water. It was not the mere
rising of the water, swelling in an estuary, but an arrow-like
glancing of the element, as it shot through a pass. We had a proof of
this last fact, about eleven o'clock, that admitted of no dispute.
Land was seen directly ahead, at that hour, and great was the panic it
created. A second look, however, reassured us, the land proving to be
merely a rocky islet of some six or eight acres in extent. We gave it
a berth, of course, though we examined closely for an anchorage near
it, as we approached. The islet was too low and too small to make any
lee, nor did we like the looks of the holding-ground. The notion of
anchoring there was consequently abandoned; but we had now some means
of noting our progress. The ship was kept a little away, in order to
give this island a berth, and the gale drove her through the water at
the rate of seven or eight knots. This, however, was far from being
our whole speed, the tide sweeping us onward at a furious rate, in
addition. Even Captain Williams thought we must be passing that rock
at the rate of fifteen knots!

It was noon, and there was no abatement in the tempest, no change in
the current, no means of returning, no chance of stopping; away we
were driven, like events ruled by fate. The only change was the
gradual clearing up of the atmosphere, as we receded from the ocean,
and got farther removed from its mists and spray. Perhaps the power of
the gale had, in a small degree, abated, by two o'clock, and it would
have been possible to carry some short sail; but there being no sea to
injure us, it was unnecessary, and the ship continued to drive ahead,
under bare poles. Night was the time to dread.

There was, now, but one opinion among us, and that was this:—we
thought the ship had entered one of the passages that intersect Terra
del Fuego, and that there was the chance of soon finding a lee, as
these channels were known to be very irregular and winding. To run in
the night seemed impossible; nor was it desirable, as it was almost
certain we should be compelled to return by the way we had entered, to
extricate ourselves from the dangers of so intricate a navigation.
Islands began to appear, moreover, and we had indications that the
main passage itself, was beginning to diminish in width. Under the
circumstances, therefore, it was resolved to get everything ready, and
to let go two anchors, as soon as we could find a suitable spot.
Between the hours of two and four, the ship passed seventeen islets,
some of them quite near; but they afforded no shelter. At last, and it
was time, the sun beginning to fall very low, as we could see by the
waning light, we saw an island of some height and size ahead, and we
hoped it might afford us a lee. The tide had changed too, and that was
in our favour. Turning to windward, however, was out of the question,
since we could carry no sail, and the night was near. Anchor, then, we
must, or continue to drive onward in the darkness, sheered about in
all directions by a powerful adverse current. It is true, this current
would have been a means of safety, by enabling us to haul up from
rocks and dangers ahead, could we carry any canvass; but it still blew
too violently for the last. To anchor, then, it was determined.

I had never seen so much anxiety in Captain Williams's countenance, as
when he was approaching the island mentioned. There was still light
enough to observe its outlines and shores, the last appearing bold and
promising. As the island itself may have been a mile in circuit, it
made a tolerable lee, when close to it. This was then our object, and
the helm was put to starboard as we went slowly past, the tide
checking our speed. The ship sheered into a sort of roadstead—a very
wild one it was—as soon as she had room. It was ticklish work, for no
one could tell how soon we might hit a rock; but we went clear,
luffing quite near to the land, where we let go both bowers at the
same instant. The ship's way had been sufficiently deadened, by
throwing her up as near the wind as she could be got, and there was no
difficulty in snubbing her. The lead gave us seven fathoms, and this
within pistol-shot of the shore. We knew we were temporarily safe. The
great point was to ascertain how the vessel would tend, and with how
much strain upon her cables. To everybody's delight, it was found we
were in a moderate eddy, that drew the ship's stern from the island,
and allowed her to tend to the wind, which still had a fair range from
her top-sail yards to the trucks. Lower down, the tempest scuffled
about, howling and eddying, and whirling first to one side, and then
to the other, in a way to prove how much its headlong impetuosity was
broken and checked by the land. It is not easy to describe the relief
we felt at these happy chances. It was like giving foothold to some
wretch who thought a descent of the precipice was inevitable.

The ship was found to ride easily by one cable, and the hands were
sent to the windlass to heave up the other anchor, as our lead told
us, we had rocks beneath us, and the captain was afraid of the
chafing. The larboard-bower anchor was catted immediately, and there
it was left suspended, with a range of cable overhauled, in readiness
to let go at a moment's notice. After this, the people were told to
get their suppers. As for us officers, we had other things to think
of. The Crisis carried a small quarter-boat, and this was lowered into
the water, the third-mate and myself manned its oars, and away we went
to carry the captain round the ship, in order that he might ascertain
the soundings, should it be necessary to get under way in the
night. The examination was satisfactory, on all points but one; that
of the holding-ground; and we returned to the vessel, having taken
good care to trust ourselves in neither the wind nor the current. An
anchor-watch was set, with a mate on deck, four hours and four hours,
and all hands turned in.

I had the morning watch. What occurred from seven o'clock (the captain
keeping the dog-watches himself,) until a few minutes before four, I
cannot tell in detail, though I understood generally, that the wind
continued to blow in the same quarter, though it gradually diminished
in violence, getting down to something like a mere gale, by midnight.
The ship rode more easily; but, when the flood came in, there was no
longer an eddy, the current sucking round each side of the island in a
very unusual manner. About ten minutes before the hour when it was my
regular watch on deck, all hands were called; I ran on deck, and found
the ship had struck adrift, the cable having parted. Marble had got
the vessel's head up to the wind, under bare poles as before, and we
soon began to heave in the cable. It was found that the mischief had
been done by the rocks, the strands being chafed two-thirds
through. As soon as the current took the vessel's hull with force, the
cable parted. We lost our anchor, of course, for there was no
possible way of getting back to the island at present, or until the
ebb again made.

It wanted several hours of day, and the captain called a council. He
told us, he made no doubt that the ship had got into one of the Terra
del Fuego passages, guided by Providence; and, as he supposed we must
be almost as far south as Staten Land, he was of opinion we had made
an important discovery! Get back we could not, so long as the wind
held where it was, and he was disposed to make sail, and push the
examination of the channel, as far as circumstances would
allow. Captain Williams had a weakness on this point, that was amiable
and respectable perhaps, but which hardly comported with the objects
and prudence of a trading ship-master. We were not surprised,
therefore, at hearing his suggestion; and, in spite of the danger,
curiosity added its impulses to our other motives of acquiescing. We
could not get back as the wind then was, and we were disposed to move
forward. As for the dangers of the navigation, they seemed to be
lessening as we advanced, fewer islands appearing ahead, and the
passage itself grew wider. Our course, however, was more to the
southward bringing the ship close up by the wind, once more.

The morning promised to be lighter than we had found the weather for
several days, and we even experienced some benefit from the moon. The
wind, too, began to back round to the eastward again, as we approached
the dawn; and we got the three top-sails, close-reefed, the
fore-course, and a new fore-top-mast stay-sail, on the ship. At length
day appeared, and the sun was actually seen struggling among dark
masses of wild-looking, driving clouds. For the first time since we
entered those narrow waters, we now got a good look around us. The
land could be seen in all directions.

The passage in which we found the Crisis, at sunrise on the morning of
the second of these adventurous days, was of several leagues in width;
and bounded, especially on the north, by high, precipitous mountains,
many of which were covered with snow. The channel was unobstructed;
and not an island, islet, or rock, was visible. No impediment to our
proceeding offered, and we were still more encouraged to push on. The
course we were steering was about south-south-west, and the captain
predicted we should come out into the ocean to the
westward
of
the Straits of Le Maire, and somewhere near the Cape itself. We should
unquestionably make a great discovery! The wind continued to back
round, and soon got to be abaft the beam. We now shook our reefs out,
one after another, and we had whole topsails on the vessel by nine
o'clock. This was carrying hard, it must be owned; but the skipper was
determined to make hay while the sun shone. There were a few hours,
when I think the ship went fifteen knots by the land, being so much
favoured by the current. Little did we know the difficulties towards
which we were rushing!

Quite early in the day, land appeared ahead, and Marble began to
predict that our rope was nearly run out. We were coming to the bottom
of a deep bay. Captain Williams thought differently; and when he
discovered a narrow passage between two promontories, he triumphantly
predicted our near approach to the Cape. He had seen some such shape
to the mountains inland, in doubling the Horn, and the hill-tops
looked like old acquaintances. Unfortunately we could not see the sun
at meridian, and got no observation. For several hours we ran
south-westerly, in a passage of no great width, when we came to a
sudden bend in our course, which led us away to the north-west. Here
we still had the tide with us, and we then all felt certain that we
had reached a point where the ebb must flow in a direction contrary to
that in which we had found it, in the other parts of the passage. It
followed, that we were now halfway through to the ocean, though the
course we were steering predicted a sinuous channel. We were certainly
not going now towards Cape Horn.