CHAPTER VI.

Once more I found myself on board a good ship, bounding gayly over the blue waters. Captain McKenzie possessed, in an eminent degree, the ability of rendering his passengers perfectly at home and happy. His crew were composed entirely of Scotchmen; and, every evening, the echo of their merry Scotch songs were wafted far over the deep sea. Captain McKenzie proposed teaching to me the Spanish language, being a perfect linguist himself. He found me far more tractable in that than in learning to take a glass of his “good Scotch whiskey,” as he termed it, to which I had taken a mortal aversion, and for which he entertained a decided preference.

He was a skilful navigator, and, on his voyages around Cape Horn, invariably passed through the Straits of Le Maire, which separate Staten Land from Terra del Fuego, and, by “hugging the land,” escape some of the severe blows so prevalent in that region. He having been on several exploring expeditions in those waters, I experienced a degree of security I should not otherwise have felt in approaching so near to huge and jagged rocks, that for ages had reared their frowning heads, as if in defiance of old ocean’s roar. We passed the veritable Cape Horn (situated on Hermit Island) in such close proximity, one could distinctly discern the barren soil. While I stood gazing at the conical

[Illustration: BURNING OF THE HUMAYOON.]

mount, said the captain, “You have now seen what many an old navigator in these waters never beheld, they keep so far south.” I assured him one sight was sufficient for a life-time; that the remembrance of the wildness and grandeur of that ocean scene would never be obliterated from the pages of memory.

That night, it came on to blow tremendously. Next morning, we found ourselves eighty miles from land, and, horror of horrors, the ship on fire! My heart refused to give credence to the startling report, until my eyes beheld it. Our worst fears were too soon confirmed by the flames darting upwards, and igniting the hatch the men were vainly endeavoring to caulk; for fear had paralyzed their faculties. When that burnt and fell in, the flames shot upward almost to the top-mast-head. The combustible nature of the cargo caused the fire to increase with wonderful rapidity. The long-boat was launched, and I was placed therein, with my pet-goat; for I would not leave her behind: the other I had given to Myrtie. After several ineffectual attempts to get at some bread and water, the fire and smoke drove them all in confusion to the boat. They pulled off a short distance, and we gazed in sadness and silence upon what was so recently our happy home, now a burning wreck. The calmness of despair pervaded my whole being: all was comprehended at a glance,--eighty miles from land, and that an inhospitable coast, inhabited only by savages; without bread or water; in an open boat, exposed to the inclemency of Cape Horn weather! People on the land, seated by their pleasant firesides, imagine they can understand our feelings at that time; but it is impossible. Even when danger, in its most appalling form, threatens on the land, there is generally some avenue of escape open. But at sea, with nought but a frail plank between you and a watery grave,--and that so fragile, one dash of those mighty waves might annihilate it,--oh, the horror of such a situation can _never_ be conceived!

All at once, the joyful cry of “Sail, ho!” was shouted from our midst; and, far away, I could descry a speck upon the ocean. Nearer and nearer it came, until, when within about a mile of us, she “hove to,” and lowered away a boat, which came bounding over the water to our relief. This ship proved to be the Symmetry, of Liverpool, Captain Thompson, bound to Acapulco, and laden with coal. How that word rang in my ears! It seemed to me every ship that floated was coal-laden. We repaired at once on board the Symmetry. Capt. McKenzie requested, as a favor, that Capt. Thompson would “lay by” until the Humayoon was burned down. Now that we could view her from a place of safety, it was a scene to rivet the attention of all beholders. Flying about, at the mercy of the wind and waves, the flames bursting out her sides (the liquor was stowed aft) and stern, the blue flames wreathed and flashed higher and higher. Soon the main and mizen-mast began to totter: they swayed to and fro for about ten minutes, when they fell with a crash over the side. Soon the fore-mast fell; and all that remained of the fine ship Humayoon lay a burning mass upon the water.

Captain Thompson now made sail, and soon the remains of that noble ship which, only twelve days previously, had borne us from our island retreat, was obscured from our view. Her commander dropped a tear to her memory, and retired in silence to the cabin.

Captain Thompson was accompanied by his wife and family. I was pleased at the idea of enjoying for a season, however brief, the society of a female friend. Capt. Thompson had previously informed us that our stay on board the Symmetry must of necessity be prolonged no farther than such a time as he could speak some ship. His inability to accommodate us longer than was actually necessary was owing to a scarcity of provisions, his own ship’s crew being then on an allowance. He had been seven months from Liverpool. He had put into Rio on the way, where, on account of severe indisposition, he had remained several weeks. While there, his crew had nearly all deserted him. When ready for sea, he shipped any he could get; and a sorry set he had. Part of them had mutinied, and were confined; and the other half carried the principles of revolt, too apparent to be mistaken, in their dark countenances.

Night had now spread its sable mantle over the world of waters; the bright constellations were reflected in the deep; and the noble ship, with majestic and graceful motion, was cleaving a pathway for herself through the rapidly heaving billows. My thoughts, as my eyes wandered over the waste of waters, were busy with the past and present,--for the future I could only hope. But a few months had intervened since leaving Baltimore; and yet how much intense anxiety, actual suffering, and harrowing suspense, were crowded into that short space! One day on board a burning ship, with no hope of escape; then a port of safety in view; then on board another ship, with every prospect of a speedy termination of our eventful voyage; then, again, assailed by fire, and obliged to seek safety in an open boat, far from land; and then transferred to a place of temporary safety,--for what could we expect but a recurrence of those awful scenes, while on board a coal-laden ship? “What,” thought I, “will be the end? Shall I ever be permitted to reach in safety the land of my birth?” I dared not entertain a hope seemingly so fallacious. As time progressed, I was often reminded, by painful contrast, of the fleeting happiness enjoyed on board the Humayoon. _There_ a spirit of harmony and love seemed to pervade the whole ship’s company. The reverse of this at sea is disagreeable in the extreme; and the truth of this assertion was never more clearly demonstrated than on board the Symmetry. In lieu of heart-stirring songs and happy faces, gloomy frowns, and curses “not loud but deep,” met the ear at every turn; anarchy and discord went hand in hand. Daily I scanned the ocean in search of a sail, anticipating a happy change, yet dreading what I most desired; for had not experience taught me that whatever we most earnestly desire, when attained, often proves the source of the keenest misery? At the expiration of thirteen days, the anxiously expected sail appeared. Mentally I prayed it might be an American; for with my own countrymen there exists a congruity of thought and feeling which renders their society more congenial. As she neared us, we perceived, to our great joy, that she was a large American ship. In answer to Captain Thompson’s signal, she hove to. He then sent a boat to ascertain if we could be transferred to her. She proved to be the Fanchon, of Newburyport, Captain Lunt, bound to San Francisco, laden with coal, which she took in at Baltimore. We became acquainted with Captain Lunt while at Baltimore. The Nonantum had sailed three weeks in advance of the Fanchon. The Nonantum had gone to her last resting-place; and here, on the broad Pacific, we met the Fanchon, in all her pristine architectural beauty, unharmed, and yet laden with Cumberland coal. Upon Capt. Lunt learning that we were on board the Symmetry, he came with all possible haste in his own boat to convey us to the Fanchon.

In the interim, Captain McKenzie had effected a compromise with Captain Thompson, to the effect that he would sail as near to the port of Valparaiso as would render it safe and feasible for Captain McKenzie and crew to embark in their long-boat, and arrive at their destined port. How well they succeeded, future events will promulgate.

I should judge, the two ships lay about a mile apart. Soon after we welcomed Captain Lunt on board the Symmetry, the heavens became suddenly overcast; and, as appearances betokened a squall, it was thought advisable for me to depart instantly with Captain Lunt; while my husband should collect what effects we had preserved from the Humayoon and my goat, and come in the ship’s boat. Thinking and hoping we should reach the Fanchon before the squall struck, they watched us with intense anxiety from the ships. When little more than mid-way between the ships, it came. Drenched with spray, and clinging to my seat, I dared not express my terror other than by looks. “Do not be alarmed,” said Capt. Lunt. “There is no danger to be apprehended. We shall soon reach the Fanchon; and, when once on her deck, all trouble and danger will flee away.” By such cheering words, he endeavored to divert my thoughts from our by no means enviable situation. My heart almost ceased its pulsations as we bounded over the white-crested billows. How intently were we watched by those on board the Symmetry! When we would disappear from their view in the trough of the sea, Mrs. Thompson would exclaim, “They are gone! they are lost!” and, when we appeared on the top of some mighty wave, would the fervent exclamation, “Thank God, they are safe!” ascend from every heart. By some mischance or other, in attempting to get alongside, we were swept towards the ship’s stern. She was plunging and rolling terribly. “My God, we are under the stern!” was the hasty ejaculation borne to my ears; and there, towering high above us over our frail boat, was the noble ship, threatening instant destruction. It was but momentary. By almost superhuman exertion, the boat’s crew succeeded in placing our frail bark beyond the reach of imminent danger; and, as the ship dashed down into the bosom of her native element, we were beyond her reach, but not far enough to escape the tumultuous dashing of the waters, which for an instant caused me to doubt my being in the boat. The second attempt to reach her side was crowned with success. A rope was thrown from the ship, which was caught by those in the boat. It required the united exertions of all to keep the boat from being dashed to pieces against the ship’s side. It seemed almost an impossibility for me to ascend the side of the ship unassisted; but so I must go, if I went at all, and that right

[Illustration: TRANSFER FROM THE SHIP SYMMETRY TO THE FANCHON.]

speedily. I could scarcely retain an upright position in the boat; and yet, as the ship rolled towards us, my instructions were to jump and catch the man-ropes, and cling hold until she careened the other way, and then to climb the steps as quickly as possible. The water was boiling and surging between the ship and the boat in such a manner as to intimidate a much _larger_ female than myself. Captain Lunt was to give the word when to jump; and, when “Now is your time! now is your time!” came thundering in my ears, all my innate fortitude deserted me; I was powerless to move. Captain Lunt, rightly conjecturing that, unless moved by some sudden impulse of resentment, I should never gain the deck, looked and spoke his feelings of disapproval so palpably, (he afterwards assured me it cost him no small effort to conceal his genuine feelings,) that I felt I would make an attempt, “live or die, sink or swim.” When next the word was given, it was promptly obeyed. I jumped, caught one of the ropes with both hands, and clung with the tenacity of one whose only hope of preservation depended upon a firm grasp. I was all the time cheered by the cry of “Hold on; you are safe!” In a moment I had clasped the other rope, ascended the steps, and was placed upon deck by the mate. I could recollect nothing more distinctly, until I found myself in a beautiful cabin, attended by an old man, judging from his silvered locks; yet his fresh and healthy appearance gave evidence that, although “Father Time” had whitened his hair, he had made but few inroads upon a healthy constitution. He was the steward--an old and devoted servant to the captain, in whose employ he had been for seventeen years. He was a native of England. His words of consolation to me were, “God bless your dear little heart!” accompanied by a pat on my shoulder; “may you never be in such a situation again. Lord bless you! The sight of one of my girls in a like situation would well-nigh break my heart.” Soon my husband arrived in safety. Captain Lunt made sail, and, long before the shades of evening descended, the Symmetry was scarcely discernible. The Fanchon was far her superior, as regarded sailing qualities and symmetrical proportions. All the symmetry the other could boast of lay in the name. I wished her success, and a safe arrival at her destined port. She had been my home for thirteen days; and, although there were many disagreeable incidents connected with our stay on board, yet she had appeared to render assistance, when our hopes were at the lowest ebb. Under these considerations, I bade her adieu as an old friend. The cupidity of her captain may be illustrated by the fact of his presenting a bill of one hundred and fifty dollars to my husband, as he was about leaving the ship. There was no alternative but to pay it, situated as we were. For this mean act he was published. The news reached the ear of his employer, who quickly refunded the amount, and also discharged him from his employ. Once again we met the Symmetry, before the termination of this never-to-be-forgotten voyage. When and where, time and future pages will explain.