CHAPTER VIII
FROM STREIGHTS LE MAIRE TO CAPE NOIR
We had scarcely reached the southern extremity of the Streights Le Maire, when our flattering hopes were instantly lost in the apprehensions of immediate destruction: for before the sternmost ships of the squadron were clear of the streights, the serenity of the sky was suddenly obscured, and we observed all the presages of an impending storm; and presently the wind shifted to the southward, and blew in such violent squalls that we were obliged to hand our topsails, and reef our main-sail; whilst the tide, too, which had hitherto favoured us, at once turned furiously against us, and drove us to the eastward with prodigious rapidity, so that we were in great anxiety for the Wager and the Anna pink, the two sternmost vessels, fearing they would be dashed to pieces against the shore of Staten-land: nor were our apprehensions without foundation, for it was with the utmost difficulty they escaped. And now the whole squadron, instead of pursuing their intended course to the S.W., were driven to the eastward by the united force of the storm and of the currents; so that next day in the morning we found ourselves near seven leagues to the eastward of Streights Le Maire, which then bore from us N.W. The violence of the current, which had set us with so much precipitation to the eastward, together with the fierceness and constancy of the westerly winds, soon taught us to consider the doubling of Cape Horn as an enterprize that might prove too mighty for our efforts, though some amongst us had lately treated the difficulties which former voyagers were said to have met with in this undertaking as little better than chimerical, and had supposed them to arise rather from timidity and unskilfulness than from the real embarrassments of the winds and seas: but we were now severely convinced that these censures were rash and ill-grounded, for the distresses with which we struggled, during the three succeeding months, will not easily be paralleled in the relation of any former naval expedition. This will, I doubt not, be readily allowed by those who shall carefully peruse the ensuing narration.
From the storm which came on before we had well got clear of Streights Le Maire, we had a continual succession of such tempestuous weather as surprized the oldest and most experienced mariners on board, and obliged them to confess that what they had hitherto called storms were inconsiderable gales compared with the violence of these winds, which raised such short, and at the same time such mountainous waves, as greatly surpassed in danger all seas known in any other part of the globe: and it was not without great reason that this unusual appearance filled us with continual terror; for, had any one of these waves broke fairly over us, it must, in all probability, have sent us to the bottom. Nor did we escape with terror only; for the ship rolling incessantly gunwale to, gave us such quick and violent motions that the men were in perpetual danger of being dashed to pieces against the decks or sides of the ship. And though we were extremely careful to secure ourselves from these shocks by grasping some fixed body, yet many of our people were forced from their hold, some of whom were killed, and others greatly injured; in particular, one of our best seamen was canted overboard and drowned, another dislocated his neck, a third was thrown into the main hold and broke his thigh, and one of our boatswain's mates broke his collar-bone twice; not to mention many other accidents of the same kind. These tempests, so dreadful in themselves, though unattended by any other unfavourable circumstance, were yet rendered more mischievous to us by their inequality, and the deceitful intervals which they at sometimes afforded; for though we were oftentimes obliged to lie-to, for days together, under a reefed mizen, and were frequently reduced to lie at the mercy of the waves under our bare poles, yet now and then we ventured to make sail with our courses double reefed; and the weather proving more tolerable, would perhaps encourage us to set our top-sails; after which, the wind, without any previous notice, would return upon us with redoubled force, and would in an instant tear our sails from the yards. And that no circumstance might be wanting which could aggrandize our distress, these blasts generally brought with them a great quantity of snow and sleet, which cased our rigging, and froze our sails, thereby rendering them and our cordage brittle, and apt to snap upon the slightest strain, adding great difficulty and labour to the working of the ship, benumbing the limbs of our people, and making them incapable of exerting themselves with their usual activity, and even disabling many of them by mortifying their toes and fingers. It were indeed endless to enumerate the various disasters of different kinds which befel us; and I shall only mention the most material, which will sufficiently evince the calamitous condition of the whole squadron during the course of this navigation.
It was on the 7th of March, as hath been already observed, that we passed Streights Le Maire, and were immediately afterwards driven to the eastward by a violent storm, and the force of the current which set that way. For the four or five succeeding days we had hard gales of wind from the same quarter, with a most prodigious swell; so that though we stood, during all that time, towards the S.W., yet we had no reason to imagine we had made any way to the westward. In this interval we had frequent squalls of rain and snow, and shipped great quantities of water; after which, for three or four days, though the seas ran mountains high, yet the weather was rather more moderate: but on the 18th, we had again strong gales of wind, with extreme cold, and at midnight the main top-sail split, and one of the straps of the main dead-eyes broke. From hence to the 23d, the weather was more favourable, though often intermixed with rain and sleet, and some hard gales; but as the waves did not subside, the ship, by labouring in this lofty sea, was now grown so loose in her upper works that she let in the water at every seam, so that every part within board was constantly exposed to the sea-water, and scarcely any of the officers ever lay in dry beds. Indeed it was very rare that two nights ever passed without many of them being driven from their beds by the deluge of water that came in upon them.
On the 23d, we had a most violent storm of wind, hail, and rain, with a very great sea; and though we handed the main top-sail before the height of the squall, yet we found the yard sprung; and soon after the foot rope of the main-sail breaking, the main-sail itself split instantly to rags, and, in spite of our endeavours to save it, much the greater part of it was blown overboard. On this, the commodore made the signal for the squadron to bring-to; and the storm at length flattening to a calm, we had an opportunity of getting down our main top-sail yard to put the carpenters to work upon it, and of repairing our rigging; after which, having bent a new main-sail, we got under sail again with a moderate breeze; but in less than twenty-four hours we were attacked by another storm still more furious than the former; for it proved a perfect hurricane, and reduced us to the necessity of lying-to under our bare poles. As our ship kept the wind better than any of the rest, we were obliged, in the afternoon, to wear ship, in order to join the squadron to the leeward, which otherwise we should have been in danger of losing in the night: and as we dared not venture any sail abroad, we were obliged to make use of an expedient which answered our purpose; this was putting the helm a weather, and manning the fore-shrouds: but though this method proved successful for the end intended, yet in the execution of it one of our ablest seamen was canted overboard; we perceived that, notwithstanding the prodigious agitation of the waves, he swam very strong, and it was with the utmost concern that we found ourselves incapable of assisting him; indeed we were the more grieved at his unhappy fate, as we lost sight of him struggling with the waves, and conceived from the manner in which he swam that he might continue sensible, for a considerable time longer, of the horror attending his irretrievable situation.
Before this last-mentioned storm was quite abated, we found two of our main-shrouds and one mizen-shroud broke, all which we knotted, and set up immediately. From hence we had an interval of three or four days less tempestuous than usual, but accompanied with a thick fog, in which we were obliged to fire guns almost every half-hour, to keep our squadron together. On the 31st, we were alarmed by a gun fired from the Gloucester, and a signal made by her to speak with the commodore; we immediately bore down to her, and were prepared to hear of some terrible disaster; but we were apprized of it before we joined her, for we saw that her main-yard was broke in the slings. This was a grievous misfortune to us all at this juncture, as it was obvious it would prove an hindrance to our sailing, and would detain us the longer in these inhospitable latitudes. But our future success and safety was not to be promoted by repining, but by resolution and activity; and therefore that this unhappy incident might delay us as little as possible, the commodore ordered several carpenters to be put on board the Gloucester from the other ships of the squadron, in order to repair her damage with the utmost expedition. And the captain of the Tryal complaining at the same time that his pumps were so bad, and the sloop made so great a quantity of water, that he was scarcely able to keep her free, the commodore ordered him a pump ready fitted from his own ship. It was very fortunate for the Gloucester and the Tryal that the weather proved more favourable this day than for many days, both before and after; since by this means they were enabled to receive the assistance which seemed essential to their preservation, and which they could scarcely have had at any other time, as it would have been extremely hazardous to have ventured a boat on board.
The next day, that is, on the 1st of April, the weather returned again to its customary bias, the sky looked dark and gloomy, and the wind began to freshen and to blow in squalls; however, it was not yet so boisterous as to prevent our carrying our top-sails close reefed; but its appearance was such as plainly prognosticated that a still severer tempest was at hand: and accordingly, on the 3d of April, there came on a storm which both in its violence and continuation (for it lasted three days) exceeded all that we had hitherto encountered. In its first onset we received a furious shock from a sea which broke upon our larboard quarter, where it stove in the quarter gallery, and rushed into the ship like a deluge; our rigging too suffered extremely from the blow; amongst the rest, one of the straps of the main dead-eyes was broke, as was also a main-shroud and puttock-shroud, so that to ease the stress upon the masts and shrouds, we lowered both our main and fore-yards, and furled all our sails, and in this posture we lay-to for three days, when the storm somewhat abating, we ventured to make sail under our courses only; but even this we could not do long; for the next day, which was the 7th, we had another hard gale of wind, with lightening and rain, which obliged us to lie-to again till night. It was wonderful that notwithstanding the hard weather we had endured, no extraordinary accident had happened to any of the squadron since the breaking of the Gloucester's main-yard: but this good fortune now no longer attended us; for at three the next morning, several guns were fired to leeward as signals of distress: and the commodore making a signal for the squadron to bring-to, we, at daybreak, saw the Wager a considerable way to leeward of any of the other ships; and we soon perceived that she had lost her mizen-mast and main top-sail yard. We immediately bore down to her, and found this disaster had arisen from the badness of her iron work; for all the chain-plates to windward had given way, upon the ship's fetching a deep roll. This proved the more unfortunate to the Wager, as her carpenter had been on board the Gloucester ever since the 31st of March, and the weather was now too severe to permit him to return. Nor was the Wager the only ship of the squadron that suffered in this tempest; for the next day a signal of distress was made by the Anna pink, and, upon speaking with the master, we learnt that they had broke their fore-stay and the gammon of the bowsprit, and were in no small danger of having all their masts come by the board; so that we were obliged to bear away until they had made all fast, after which we haled upon a wind again.
And now after all our solicitude, and the numerous ills of every kind to which we had been incessantly exposed for near forty days, we had great consolation in the flattering hopes we entertained that our fatigues were drawing to a period, and that we should soon arrive in a more hospitable climate, where we should be amply repayed for all our past sufferings. For, towards the latter end of March, we were advanced, by our reckoning, near 10° to the westward of the westernmost point of Terra del Fuego, and this allowance being double what former navigators have thought necessary to be taken, in order to compensate the drift of the western current, we esteemed ourselves to be well advanced within the limits of the southern ocean, and had therefore been ever since standing to the northward with as much expedition as the turbulence of the weather and our frequent disasters permitted. And, on the 13th of April, we were but a degree in latitude to the southward of the west entrance of the Streights of Magellan; so that we fully expected, in a very few days, to have experienced the celebrated tranquillity of the Pacifick Ocean.
But these were delusions which only served to render our disappointment more terrible; for the next morning, between one and two, as we were standing to the northward, and the weather, which had till then been hazy, accidentally cleared up, the pink made a signal for seeing land right ahead; and it being but two miles distant, we were all under the most dreadful apprehensions of running on shore, which, had either the wind blown from its usual quarter with its wonted vigour, or had not the moon suddenly shone out, not a ship amongst us could possibly have avoided: but the wind, which some few hours before blew in squalls from the S.W., having fortunately shifted to W.N.W., we were enabled to stand to the southward, and to clear ourselves of this unexpected danger, and were fortunate enough by noon to have gained an offing of near twenty leagues.
By the latitude of this land we fell in with, it was agreed to be a part of Terra del Fuego, near the southern outlet described in Frezier's chart of the Streights of Magellan, and was supposed to be that point called by him Cape Noir. It was indeed most wonderful that the currents should have driven us to the eastward with such strength; for the whole squadron esteemed themselves upwards of ten degrees more westerly than this land, so that in running down, by our account, about nineteen degrees of longitude, we had not really advanced half that distance. And now, instead of having our labours and anxieties relieved by approaching a warmer climate and more tranquil seas, we were to steer again to the southward, and were again to combat those western blasts which had so often terrified us; and this too when we were greatly enfeebled by our men falling sick, and dying apace, and when our spirits, dejected by a long continuance at sea, and by our late disappointment, were much less capable of supporting us in the various difficulties which we could not but expect in this new undertaking. Add to all this, too, the discouragement we received by the diminution of the strength of the squadron; for, three days before this, we lost sight of the Severn and the Pearl in the morning, and though we spread our ships, and beat about for them some time, yet we never saw them more; whence we had apprehensions that they too might have fallen in with this land in the night, and by being less favoured by the wind and the moon than we were, might have run on shore and have perished. Full of these desponding thoughts and gloomy presages, we stood away to the S.W., prepared by our late disaster to suspect that how large soever an allowance we made in our westing for the drift of the western current, we might still, upon a second trial, perhaps find it insufficient.
CHAPTER IX
OBSERVATIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FACILITATING THE
PASSAGE OF OUR FUTURE CRUISERS ROUND CAPE HORN
The improper season of the year in which we attempted to double Cape Horn, and to which is to be imputed the disappointment (recited in the foregoing chapter) of falling in with Terra del Fuego, when we reckoned ourselves above a hundred leagues to the westward of that whole coast, and consequently well advanced into the Pacifick Ocean; this unseasonable navigation, I say, to which we were necessitated by our too late departure from England, was the fatal source of all the misfortunes we afterwards encountered. For from hence proceeded the separation of our ships, the destruction of our people, the ruin of our project on Baldivia, and of all our other views on the Spanish places, and the reduction of our squadron from the formidable condition in which it passed Streights Le Maire to a couple of shattered half-manned cruisers and a sloop, so far disabled that in many climates they scarcely durst have put to sea. To prevent, therefore, as much as in me lies, all ships hereafter bound to the South Seas from suffering the same calamities, I think it my duty to insert in this place such directions and observations as either my own experience and reflection, or the conversation of the most skilful navigators on board the squadron, could furnish me with, in relation to the most eligible manner of doubling Cape Horn, whether in regard to the season of the year, the course proper to be steered, or the places of refreshment both on the east and west side of South America.
And first, with regard to the proper place for refreshment on the east side of South America. For this purpose the island of St. Catherine's has been usually recommended by former writers, and on their faith we put in there, as has been formerly mentioned. But the treatment we met with, and the small store of refreshments we could procure there, are sufficient reasons to render all ships for the future cautious how they trust themselves in the government of Don Jose Sylva de Paz, for they may certainly depend on having their strength, condition, and designs betrayed to the Spaniards, as far as the knowledge the governor can procure of these particulars will give him leave. And as this treacherous conduct is inspired by the views of private gain in the illicit commerce carried on to the river of Plate, rather than by any national affection which the Portuguese bear the Spaniards, the same perfidy may perhaps be expected from most of the governors of the Brazil coast, since these smuggling engagements are doubtless very extensive and general. And though the governors should themselves detest so faithless a procedure, yet as ships are perpetually passing from some or other of the Brazil ports to the river of Plate, the Spaniards could scarcely fail of receiving, by this means, casual intelligence of any British ships upon the coast, which, however imperfect such intelligence might be, would prove of dangerous import to the views and interests of those cruisers who were thus discovered.
For the Spanish trade in the South Seas running all in one track from north to south, with very little deviation to the eastward or westward, it is in the power of two or three cruisers, properly stationed in different parts of this track, to possess themselves of every ship that puts to sea; but this is only so long as they can continue concealed from the neighbouring coast, for the instant an enemy is known to be in those seas, all navigation is prohibited, and consequently all captures are at an end, since the Spaniards, well apprized of these advantages of the enemy, send expresses along the coast and lay a general embargo on all their trade; a measure which they prudentially foresee will not only prevent their vessels being taken, but will soon lay any cruisers who have not strength sufficient to attempt their places under necessity of returning home. Hence then appears the great importance of concealing all expeditions of this kind, and hence, too, it follows how extremely prejudicial that intelligence may prove which is given by the Portuguese governors to the Spaniards in relation to the designs of ships touching at the ports of Brazil.
However, notwithstanding the inconveniences we have mentioned of touching on the coast of Brazil, it will often-times happen that ships bound round Cape Horn will be obliged to call there for a supply of wood and water, and other refreshments. In this case, St. Catherine's is the last place I would recommend, both as the proper animals for a live stock at sea, as hogs, sheep, and fowls, cannot be procured there (for want of which we found ourselves greatly distressed, by being reduced to live almost entirely on salt provisions), and also because, from its being nearer the river of Plate than many of their other settlements, the inducements and conveniences of betraying us are much stronger. The place I would recommend is Rio Janeiro, where two of our squadron put in after they were separated from us in passing Cape Horn, for here, as I have been informed by one of the gentlemen on board those ships, any quantity of hogs and poultry may be procured; and this place being more distant from the river of Plate, the difficulty of intelligence is somewhat inhanced, and consequently the chance of continuing there undiscovered in some degree augmented. Other measures, which may effectually obviate all these embarrassments, shall be considered more at large hereafter.
I next proceed to the consideration of the proper course to be steered for doubling Cape Horn. And here, I think, I am sufficiently authorised by our own fatal experience, and by a careful comparison and examination of the journals of former navigators, to give this piece of advice, which in prudence I think ought never to be departed from: that is, that all ships bound to the South Seas, instead of passing through Streights Le Maire, should constantly pass to the eastward of Staten-land, and should be invariably bent on running to the southward, as far as the latitude of 61 or 62 degrees, before they endeavour to stand to the westward; and that when they are got into that latitude they should then make sure of sufficient westing before they once think of steering to the northward.
But as directions diametrically opposite to these have been formerly given by other writers, it is incumbent on me to produce my reasons for each part of this maxim. And first, as to the passing to the eastward of Staten-land. Those who have attended to the risque we ran in passing Streights Le Maire, the danger we were in of being driven upon Staten-land by the current, when, though we happily escaped being put on shore, we were yet carried to the eastward of that island; those who reflect on this, and the like accidents which have happened to other ships, will surely not esteem it prudent to pass through Streights Le Maire, and run the risque of shipwreck, and after all find themselves no farther to the westward (the only reason hitherto given for this practice) than they might have been in the same time by a secure navigation in an open sea.
And next as to the directions I have given for running into the latitude of 61 or 62 south, before any endeavour is made to stand to the westward. The reasons for this precept are, that in all probability the violence of the currents will be hereby avoided, and the weather will prove less tempestuous and uncertain. This last circumstance we ourselves experienced most remarkably, for after we had unexpectedly fallen in with the land, as has been mentioned in the preceding chapter, we stood away to the southward to run clear of it, and were no sooner advanced into sixty degrees or upwards but we met with much better weather and smoother water than in any other part of the whole passage. The air indeed was very cold and sharp, and we had strong gales, but they were steady and uniform, and we had at the same time sunshine and a clear sky; whereas in the lower latitudes the winds every now and then intermitted, as it were, to recover new strength, and then returned suddenly in the most violent gusts, threatening at each blast the loss of our masts, which must have ended in our certain destruction. And that the currents in this high latitude would be of much less efficacy than nearer the land seems to be evinced from these considerations, that all currents run with greater violence near the shore than at sea, and that at great distances from shore they are scarcely perceptible. Indeed the reason of this seems sufficiently obvious, if we consider that constant currents are, in all probability, produced by constant winds, the wind driving before it, though with a slow and imperceptible motion, a large body of water, which being accumulated upon any coast that it meets with, must escape along the shore by the endeavours of its surface to reduce itself to the same level with the rest of the ocean. And it is reasonable to suppose that those violent gusts of wind which we experienced near the shore, so very different from what we found in the latitude of sixty degrees and upwards, may be owing to a similar cause, for a westerly wind almost perpetually prevails in the southern part of the Pacific Ocean. And this current of air being interrupted by those immense hills called the Andes, and by the mountains on Terra del Fuego, which together bar up the whole country to the southward as far as Cape Horn, a part of it only can force its way over the tops of those prodigious precipices, whilst the rest must naturally follow the direction of the coast, and must range down the land to the southward, and sweep with an impetuous and irregular blast round Cape Horn and the southermost part of Terra del Fuego. However, not to rely on these speculations, we may, I believe, establish as incontestible these matters of fact, that both the rapidity of the currents and the violence of the western gales are less sensible in the latitude of 61 or 62 degrees than nearer the shore of Terra del Fuego.
But though I am satisfied from both our own experience, and the relations of other navigators, of the importance of the precept I here insist on, that of running into the latitude of 61 or 62 degrees, before any endeavours are made to stand to the westward, yet I would advise no ships hereafter to trust so far to this management as to neglect another most essential maxim, which is the making this passage in the height of summer—that is, in the months of December and January; and the more distant the time of passing is taken from this season, the more disastrous it may be reasonably expected to prove. Indeed, if the mere violence of the western winds be considered, the time of our passage, which was about the equinox, was perhaps the most unfavourable of the whole year; but then it must be remembered that independent of the winds there are in the depth of winter many other inconveniences to be apprehended which are almost insuperable, for the severity of the cold and the shortness of the days would render it impracticable at that season to run so far to the southward as is here recommended; and the same reasons would greatly augment the alarms of sailing in the neighbourhood of an unknown shore, dreadful in its appearance in the midst of summer, and would make a winter navigation on this coast to be, of all others, the most dismaying and terrible. As I would therefore advise all ships to make their passage in December and January, if possible, so I would warn them never to attempt the doubling Cape Horn, from the eastward, after the month of March.
And now, as to the remaining consideration, that is, the properest port for cruisers to refresh at on their first arrival in the South Seas. On this head there is scarcely any choice, the island of Juan Fernandes being the only place that can be prudently recommended for this purpose. For though there are many ports on the western side of Patagonia, between the Streights of Magellan and the Spanish settlements, where ships might ride in great safety, might recruit their wood and water, and might procure some few refreshments, yet that coast is in itself so dangerous from its numerous rocks and breakers, and from the violence of the western winds which blow constantly full upon it, that it is by no means adviseable to fall in with that land, at least till the roads, channels, and anchorage, in each part of it are accurately surveyed, and both the perils and shelter it abounds with are more distinctly known.
Thus having given the best directions in my power for the success of our cruisers who may be hereafter bound to the South Seas, it might be expected that I should again resume the thread of my narration. Yet as both in the preceding and subsequent parts of this work I have thought it my duty not only to recite all such facts, and to inculcate such maxims as had the least appearance of proving beneficial to future navigators, but also occasionally to recommend such measures to the public as I conceive are adapted to promote the same laudable purpose, I cannot desist from the present subject without beseeching those to whom the conduct of our naval affairs is committed to endeavour to remove the many perplexities and embarrassments with which the navigation to the South Seas is at present necessarily encumbered. An effort of this kind could not fail of proving highly honourable to themselves, and extremely beneficial to their country. For it seems to be sufficiently evident, that whatever improvements navigation shall receive, either by the invention of methods that shall render its practice less hazardous, or by the more accurate delineation of the coasts, roads, and ports already known, or by the discovery of new nations, or new species of commerce; it seems, I say, sufficiently evident, that by whatever means navigation is promoted, the conveniences hence arising must ultimately redound to the emolument of Great Britain. Since as our fleets are at present superior to those of the whole world united, it must be a matchless degree of supineness or mean-spiritedness if we permitted any of the advantages which new discoveries, or a more extended navigation, may produce to mankind to be ravished from us.
As, therefore, it appears that all our future expeditions to the South Seas must run a considerable risque of proving abortive whilst in our passage thither, we are under the necessity of touching at Brazil, the discovery of some place more to the southward, where ships might refresh and supply themselves with the necessary sea-stock for their voyage round Cape Horn, would be an expedient which would relieve us from this embarrassment, and would surely be a matter worthy of the attention of the public. Nor does this seem difficult to be effected. For we have already the imperfect knowledge of two places which might perhaps, on examination, prove extremely convenient for this purpose. One of them is Pepys's Island, in the latitude of 47° south, and laid down by Dr. Halley about eighty leagues to the eastward of Cape Blanco, on the coast of Patagonia; the other is Falkland's Isles, in the latitude of 51-½°, lying nearly south of Pepys's Island. The first of these was discovered by Captain Cowley in his voyage round the world in the year 1686, who represents it as a commodious place for ships to wood and water at, and says it is provided with a very good and capacious harbour, where a thousand sail of ships might ride at anchor in great safety; that it abounds with fowls, and that as the shore is either rocks or sands, it seems to promise great plenty of fish. The second place, or Falkland's Isles, has been seen by many ships, both French and English, being the land laid down by Frezier, in his chart of the extremity of South America, under the title of the New Islands. Woodes Rogers, who run along the N.E. coast of these isles in the year 1708, tells us that they extended about two degrees in length, and appeared with gentle descents from hill to hill, and seemed to be good ground, interspersed with woods, and not destitute of harbours. Either of these places, as they are islands at a considerable distance from the continent, may be supposed, from their latitude, to lie in a climate sufficiently temperate. It is true, they are too little known to be at present recommended as the most eligible places of refreshment for ships bound to the southward, but if the Admiralty should think it adviseable to order them to be surveyed, which may be done at a very small expence by a vessel fitted out on purpose, and if, on this examination, one or both of these places should appear proper for the purpose intended, it is scarcely to be conceived of what prodigious import a convenient station might prove, situated so far to the southward, and so near Cape Horn. The Duke and Duchess of Bristol were but thirty-five days from their losing sight of Falkland's Isles to their arrival at Juan Fernandes in the South Seas: and as the returning back is much facilitated by the western winds, I doubt not but a voyage might be made from Falkland's Isles to Juan Fernandes and back again in little more than two months. This, even in time of peace, might be of great consequence to this nation; and, in time of war, would make us masters of those seas.
And as all discoveries of this kind, though extremely honourable to those who direct and promote them, may yet be carried on at an inconsiderable expence, since small vessels are much the properest to be employed in this service: it were to be wished that the whole coast of Patagonia, Terra del Fuego, and Staten-land were carefully surveyed, and the numerous channels, roads, and harbours with which they abound were accurately examined. This might open to us facilities of passing into the Pacifick Ocean, which as yet we may be unacquainted with, and would render all that southern navigation infinitely securer than at present; particularly an exact draught of the west coast of Patagonia, from the Streights of Magellan to the Spanish settlements, might perhaps furnish us with better and more convenient ports for refreshment, and better situated for the purposes either of war or commerce, and above a fortnight's sail nearer to Falkland's Island than the island of Juan Fernandes. The discovery of this coast hath formerly been thought of such consequence by reason of its neighbourhood to the Araucos and other Chilian Indians, who are generally at war, or at least on ill terms, with their Spanish neighbours, that Sir John Narborough was purposely fitted out in the reign of King Charles II. to survey the Streights of Magellan, the neighbouring coast of Patagonia, and the Spanish ports on that frontier, with directions, if possible, to procure some intercourse with the Chilian Indians, and to establish a commerce and a lasting correspondence with them. His Majesty's views in employing Sir John Narborough in this expedition were not solely the advantage he might hope to receive from the alliance of those savages, in restraining and intimidating the crown of Spain; but he conceived that, independent of those motives, the immediate traffick with these Indians might prove extremely advantageous to the English nation. For it is well known that at the first discovery of Chili by the Spaniards, it abounded with vast quantities of gold, much beyond what it has at any time produced since it has been in their possession. And hence it has been generally believed that the richest mines are carefully concealed by the Indians, as well knowing that the discovery of them would only excite in the Spaniards a greater thirst for conquest and tyranny, and would render their own independence more precarious. But with respect to their commerce with the English, these reasons would no longer influence them; since it would be in our power to furnish them with arms and ammunition of all kinds, of which they are extremely desirous, together with many other conveniencies which their intercourse with the Spaniards has taught them to relish. They would then, in all probability, open their mines, and gladly embrace a traffick of such mutual convenience to both nations; for then their gold, instead of proving an incitement to enslave them, would procure them weapons to assert their liberty, to chastise their tyrants, and to secure themselves for ever from the Spanish yoke; whilst with our assistance, and under our protection, they might become a considerable people, and might secure to us that wealth which formerly by the House of Austria, and lately by the House of Bourbon, has been most mischievously lavished in the pursuit of universal monarchy.
It is true, Sir John Narborough did not succeed in opening this commerce, which, in appearance, promised so many advantages to this nation. However, his disappointment was merely accidental, and his transactions upon that coast (besides the many valuable improvements he furnished to geography and navigation) are rather an encouragement for future trials of this kind than any objection against them; his principal misfortune being the losing company of a small bark which attended him, and having some of his people trepanned at Baldivia. However, it appeared, by the precautions and fears of the Spaniards, that they were fully convinced of the practicability of the scheme he was sent to execute, and extremely alarmed with the apprehension of its consequences. It is said that his Majesty King Charles the Second was so far prepossessed with the belief of the emoluments which might redound to the publick from this expedition, and was so eager to be informed of the event of it, that having intelligence of Sir John Narborough's passing through the Downs on his return, he had not patience to attend his arrival at court, but went himself in his barge to Gravesend to meet him.
To facilitate as much as possible any attempts of this kind which may be hereafter undertaken, I prepared a chart of that part of the world, as far as it is hitherto known, which I flatter myself is, in some respects, much correcter than any which has been yet published. To evince which, it may be necessary to mention what materials I have principally made use of, and what changes I have introduced different from other authors.
The two most celebrated charts hitherto published of the southermost part of South America, are those of Dr. Halley, in his general chart of the magnetic variation, and of Frezier in his voyage to the South Seas. But besides these, there is a chart of the Streights of Magellan, and of some part of the adjacent coast, by Sir John Narborough above-mentioned, which is doubtless infinitely exacter in that part than Frezier's, and in some respects superior to Halley's, particularly in what relates to the longitudes of the different parts of those streights. The coast from Cape Blanco to Terra del Fuego, and thence to Streights Le Maire, we were in some measure capable of correcting by our own observations, as we ranged that shore generally in sight of land. The position of the land to the northward of the Streights of Magellan, on the west side, is doubtless laid down but very imperfectly; and yet I believe it to be much nearer the truth than what has hitherto been done, as it is drawn from the information of some of the Wager's crew who were shipwrecked on that shore and afterwards coasted it down, and as it agrees pretty nearly with the description of some Spanish manuscripts I have seen. The channel dividing Terra del Fuego is drawn from Frezier; but Sir Francis Drake, who first discovered Cape Horn, and the S.W. part of Terra del Fuego, observed that whole coast to be divided by a great number of inlets, all which he conceived did communicate with the Streights of Magellan. And I doubt not that whenever this country is thoroughly examined this circumstance will be verified, and Terra del Fuego will be found to consist of several islands.
And having mentioned Frezier so often, I must not omit warning all future navigators against relying on the longitude of Streights Le Maire, or of any part of that coast, laid down in his chart, the whole being from 8 to 10 degrees too far to the eastward, if any faith can be given to the concurrent evidences of a great number of journals, verified in some particulars by astronomical observation. For instance, Sir John Narborough places Cape Virgin Mary in 65° 42' of west longitude from the Lizard, that is in about 71-½° from London. And the ships of our squadron, who took their departure from St. Catherine's (where the longitude was rectified by an observation of the eclipse of the moon), found Cape Virgin Mary to be from 70-½° to 72-½° from London, according to their different reckonings; and since there were no circumstances in our run that could render it considerably erroneous, it cannot be esteemed in less than 71 degrees of west longitude; whereas Frezier lays it down in less than 66 degrees from Paris, that is, little more than 63 degrees from London, which is doubtless 8 degrees short of its true quantity. Again, our squadron found Cape Virgin Mary and Streights Le Maire to be not more than 2-½° different in longitude, which in Frezier are distant near 4 degrees, so that not only the longitude of Cape St. Bartholomew is laid down in him near 10 degrees too little, but the coast from the Streights of Magellan to Streights Le Maire is enlarged to near double its real extent.
But to have done with Frezier, whose errors, the importance of the subject, and not a fondness for cavilling, has obliged me to remark (though his treatment of Dr. Halley might, on the present occasion, authorise much severer usage), I must, in the next place, relate wherein I differ from that of our learned countryman last mentioned.
It is well known that this gentleman was sent abroad by the public to make such geographical and astronomical observations as might facilitate the future practice of navigation, and particularly to determine the variation of the compass in such places as he should touch at, and, if possible, to ascertain its general laws and affections. These things Dr. Halley, to his immortal reputation and the honour of our nation, in good measure accomplished, especially with regard to the variation of the compass, a subject, of all others, the most interesting to those employed in the art of navigation. He likewise corrected the position of the coast of Brazil, which had been very erroneously laid down by all former hydrographers; and from a judicious comparison of the observations of others, he happily succeeded in settling the geography of many considerable places where he had not himself been. So that the chart he composed, with the variation of the needle marked thereon, being the result of his labours on this subject, was allowed by all Europe to be far compleater in its geography than any that had till then been published, whilst it was at the same time most surprisingly exact in the quantity of variation assigned to the different parts of the globe; a subject so very intricate and perplexing, that all general determinations about it had been usually deemed impossible.
But as the only means he had of correcting the situation of those coasts, where he did not touch himself, were the observations of others, when those observations were wanting, or were inaccurate, it was no imputation on his skill that his decisions were defective. And this, upon the best comparison I have been able to make, is the case with regard to that part of his chart, which contains the south coast of South America. For though the coast of Brazil, and the opposite coast of Peru on the South Seas, are laid down, I presume, with the greatest accuracy, yet from about the river of Plate on the east side, and its opposite point on the west, the coast gradually declines too much to the westward, so as at the Streights of Magellan to be, as I conceive, about fifty leagues removed from its true position; at least, this is the result of the observations of our squadron, which agree extremely well with those of Sir John Narborough. I must add that Dr. Halley has, in the philosophical transactions, given the foundation on which he has proceeded in fixing Port St. Julian in 76-½° of west longitude, which the concurrent journals of our squadron place from 70-¾° to 71-½°. This, he tells us, was an observation of an eclipse of the moon made at that place by Mr. Wood, then Sir John Narborough's lieutenant, and which is said to have happened there at eight in the evening, on the 18th of September 1670. But Captain Wood's journal of this whole voyage under Sir John Narborough is since published together with this observation, in which he determines the longitude of Port St. Julian to be 73 degrees from London, and the time of the eclipse to have been different from Dr. Halley's account. But the numbers he has given are so faultily printed that nothing can be determined from them.
CHAPTER X
FROM CAPE NOIR TO THE ISLAND OF JUAN FERNANDES
After the mortifying disappointment of falling in with the coast of Terra del Fuego, when we esteemed ourselves ten degrees to the westward of it, as hath been at large recited in the eighth chapter, we stood away to the S.W. till the 22d of April, when we were in upwards of 60° of south latitude, and by our account near 6° to the westward of Cape Noir. In this run, we had a series of as favourable weather as could well be expected in that part of the world, even in a better season, so that this interval, setting the inquietude of our thoughts aside, was by far the most eligible of any we enjoyed from Streights Le Maire to the west coast of America. This moderate weather continued with little variation till the 24th, but on the 24th, in the evening, the wind began to blow fresh, and soon increased to a prodigious storm, and the weather being extremely thick, about midnight we lost sight of the other four ships of the squadron, which, notwithstanding the violence of the preceding storms, had hitherto kept in company with us. Nor was this our sole misfortune, for the next morning, endeavouring to hand the top-sails, the clew-lines and bunt-lines broke, and the sheets being half-flown, every seam in the top-sails was soon split from top to bottom, and the main top-sail shook so strongly in the wind that it carried away the top lanthorn, and endangered the head of the mast; however, at length some of the most daring of our men ventured upon the yard and cut the sail away close to the reefs, though with the utmost hazard of their lives. Whilst at the same time the fore top-sail beat about the yard with so much fury that it was soon blown to pieces; nor was our attention to our top-sails our sole employment, for the main-sail blew loose, which obliged us to lower down the yard to secure the sail, and the fore-yard being likewise lowered, we lay-to under a mizen. In this storm, besides the loss of our top-sails, we had much of our rigging broke, and lost a main-studding sail-boom out of the chains.
On the 25th, about noon, the weather became more moderate, which enabled us to sway up our yards, and to repair, in the best manner we could, our shattered rigging, but still we had no sight of the rest of our squadron, nor indeed were we joined by any of them again till after our arrival at Juan Fernandes, nor did any two of them, as we have since learned, continue in company together. This total and almost instantaneous separation was the more wonderful as we had hitherto kept together for seven weeks, through all the reiterated tempests of this turbulent climate. It must indeed be owned that we had hence room to expect that we might make our passage in a shorter time than if we had continued together, because we could now make the best of our way without being retarded by the misfortunes of the other ships; but then we had the melancholy reflection that we ourselves were hereby deprived of the assistance of others, and our safety would depend upon our single ship, so that if a plank started, or any other accident of the same nature should take place, we must all irrecoverably perish; or should we be driven on shore, we had the uncomfortable prospect of ending our days on some desolate coast, without any reasonable hope of ever getting off again, whereas, with another ship in company, all these calamities are much less formidable, since in every kind of danger there would be some probability that one ship at least might escape, and might be capable of preserving or relieving the crew of the other.
The remaining part of this month of April we had generally hard gales, although we had been every day, since the 22d, edging to the northward; however, on the last day of the month, we flattered ourselves with the expectation of soon terminating all our sufferings, for we that day found ourselves in the latitude of 52° 13', which being to the northward of the Streights of Magellan, we were assured that we had compleated our passage, and had arrived in the confines of the southern ocean; and this ocean being denominated Pacifick, from the equability of the seasons which are said to prevail there, and the facility and security with which navigation is there carried on, we doubted not but we should be speedily cheared with the moderate gales, the smooth water, and the temperate air for which that track of the globe has been so renowned. And under the influence of these pleasing circumstances we hoped to experience some kind of compensation for the complicated miseries which had so constantly attended us for the last eight weeks. But here we were again disappointed, for in the succeeding month of May our sufferings rose to a much higher pitch than they had ever yet done, whether we consider the violence of the storms, the shattering of our sails and rigging, or the diminishing and weakening of our crew by deaths and sickness, and the probable prospect of our total destruction. All this will be sufficiently evident from the following circumstantial account of our diversified misfortunes.
Soon after our passing Streights Le Maire, the scurvy began to make its appearance amongst us, and our long continuance at sea, the fatigue we underwent, and the various disappointments we met with, had occasioned its spreading to such a degree that at the latter end of April there were but few on board who were not in some degree afflicted with it, and in that month no less than forty-three died of it on board the Centurion. But though we thought that the distemper had then risen to an extraordinary height, and were willing to hope that as we advanced to the northward its malignity would abate, yet we found, on the contrary, that in the month of May we lost near double that number; and as we did not get to land till the middle of June, the mortality went on increasing, and the disease extended itself so prodigiously that, after the loss of above two hundred men, we could not at last muster more than six fore-mast men in a watch capable of duty.
This disease, so frequently attending long voyages, and so particularly destructive to us, is surely the most singular and unaccountable of any that affects the human body. Its symptoms are inconstant and innumerable, and its progress and effects extremely irregular; for scarcely any two persons have complaints exactly resembling each other, and where there hath been found some conformity in the symptoms, the order of their appearance has been totally different. However, though it frequently puts on the form of many other diseases, and is therefore not to be described by any exclusive and infallible criterions, yet there are some symptoms which are more general than the rest, and, occurring the oftenest, deserve a more particular enumeration. These common appearances are large discoloured spots dispersed over the whole surface of the body, swelled legs, putrid gums, and, above all, an extraordinary lassitude of the whole body, especially after any exercise, however inconsiderable; and this lassitude at last degenerates into a proneness to swoon, and even die, on the least exertion of strength, or even on the least motion.
This disease is likewise usually attended with a strange dejection of the spirits, and with shiverings, tremblings, and a disposition to be seized with the most dreadful terrors on the slightest accident. Indeed it was most remarkable, in all our reiterated experience of this malady, that whatever discouraged our people, or at any time damped their hopes, never failed to add new vigour to the distemper; for it usually killed those who were in the last stages of it, and confined those to their hammocks who were before capable of some kind of duty; so that it seemed as if alacrity of mind, and sanguine thoughts, were no contemptible preservatives from its fatal malignity.
But it is not easy to compleat the long roll of the various concomitants of this disease; for it often produced putrid fevers, pleurisies, the jaundice, and violent rheumatic pains, and sometimes it occasioned an obstinate costiveness, which was generally attended with a difficulty of breathing, and this was esteemed the most deadly of all the scorbutick symptoms; at other times the whole body, but more especially the legs, were subject to ulcers of the worst kind, attended with rotten bones, and such a luxuriancy of fungous flesh as yielded to no remedy. But a most extraordinary circumstance, and what would be scarcely credible upon any single evidence, is, that the scars of wounds which had been for many years healed were forced open again by this virulent distemper. Of this there was a remarkable instance in one of the invalids on board the Centurion, who had been wounded above fifty years before at the battle of the Boyne, for though he was cured soon after, and had continued well for a great number of years past, yet on his being attacked by the scurvy, his wounds, in the progress of his disease, broke out afresh, and appeared as if they had never been healed: nay, what is still more astonishing, the callus of a broken bone, which had been compleatly formed for a long time, was found to be hereby dissolved, and the fracture seemed as if it had never been consolidated. Indeed, the effects of this disease were in almost every instance wonderful; for many of our people, though confined to their hammocks, appeared to have no inconsiderable share of health, for they eat and drank heartily, were chearful, and talked with much seeming vigour, and with a loud strong tone of voice; and yet, on their being the least moved, though it was from only one part of the ship to the other, and that too in their hammocks, they have immediately expired; and others, who have confided in their seeming strength, and have resolved to get out of their hammocks, have died before they could well reach the deck; nor was it an uncommon thing for those who were able to walk the deck, and to do some kind of duty, to drop down dead in an instant, on any endeavours to act with their utmost effort, many of our people having perished in this manner during the course of this voyage.
With this terrible disease we struggled the greatest part of the time of our beating round Cape Horn; and though it did not then rage with its utmost violence, yet we buried no less than forty-three men on board the Centurion in the month of April, as hath been already observed; however, we still entertained hopes that when we should have once secured our passage round the Cape, we should put a period to this, and all the other evils which had so constantly pursued us. But it was our misfortune to find that the Pacifick Ocean was to us less hospitable than the turbulent neighbourhood of Terra del Fuego and Cape Horn. For being arrived, on the 8th of May, off the island of Socoro, which was the first rendezvous appointed for the squadron, and where we hoped to have met with some of our companions, we cruised for them in that station several days. But here we were not only disappointed in our expectations of being joined by our friends, and were thereby induced to favour the gloomy suggestions of their having all perished; but we were likewise perpetually alarmed with the fears of being driven on shore upon this coast, which appeared too craggy and irregular to give us the least prospect that in such a case any of us could possibly escape immediate destruction. For the land had indeed a most tremendous aspect: the most distant part of it, and which appeared far within the country, being the mountains usually called the Andes or Cordilleras, was extremely high and covered with snow; and the coast itself seemed quite rocky and barren, and the water's edge skirted with precipices. In some places indeed we discerned several deep bays running into the land, but the entrance into them was generally blocked up by numbers of little islands; and though it was not improbable but there might be convenient shelter in some of those bays, and proper channels leading thereto, yet, as we were utterly ignorant of the coast, had we been driven ashore by the western winds which blew almost constantly there, we did not expect to have avoided the loss of our ship, and of our lives.
This continued peril, which lasted for above a fortnight, was greatly aggravated by the difficulties we found in working the ship, as the scurvy had by this time destroyed so great a part of our hands, and had in some degree affected almost the whole crew. Nor did we, as we hoped, find the winds less violent as we advanced to the northward; for we had often prodigious squalls which split our sails, greatly damaged our rigging, and endangered our masts. Indeed, during the greatest part of the time we were upon this coast, the wind blew so hard, that in another situation, where we had sufficient sea room, we should certainly have lain-to; but in the present exigency we were necessitated to carry both our courses and top-sails in order to keep clear of this lee shore. In one of these squalls, which was attended by several violent claps of thunder, a sudden flash of fire darted along our decks, which, dividing, exploded with a report like that of several pistols, and wounded many of our men and officers as it passed, marking them in different parts of the body. This flame was attended with a strong sulphureous stench, and was doubtless of the same nature with the larger and more violent blasts of lightning which then filled the air.
It were endless to recite minutely the various disasters, fatigues, and terrors which we encountered on this coast; all these went on increasing till the 22d of May, at which time the fury of all the storms which we had hitherto encountered seemed to be combined, and to have conspired our destruction. In this hurricane almost all our sails were split, and great part of our standing rigging broken; and, about eight in the evening, a mountainous over-grown sea took us upon our starboard-quarter, and gave us so prodigious a shock that several of our shrouds broke with the jerk, by which our masts were greatly endangered; our ballast and stores too were so strangely shifted that the ship heeled afterwards two streaks to port. Indeed it was a most tremendous blow, and we were thrown into the utmost consternation from the apprehension of instantly foundering; and though the wind abated in a few hours, yet, as we had no more sails left in a condition to bend to our yards, the ship laboured very much in a hollow sea, rolling gunwale to, for want of sail to steady her: so that we expected our masts, which were now very slenderly supported, to come by the board every moment. However, we exerted ourselves the best we could to stirrup our shrouds, to reeve new lanyards, and to mend our sails; but while these necessary operations were carrying on, we ran great risque of being driven on shore on the island of Chiloe, which was not far distant from us; but in the midst of our peril the wind happily shifted to the southward, and we steered off the land with the main-sail only, the master and myself undertaking the management of the helm, while every one else on board was busied in securing the masts, and bending the sails as fast as they could be repaired. This was the last effort of that stormy climate; for in a day or two after we got clear of the land, and found the weather more moderate than we had yet experienced since our passing Streights Le Maire. And now having cruized in vain for more than a fortnight in quest of the other ships of the squadron, it was resolved to take the advantage of the present favourable season, and the offing we had made from this terrible coast, and to make the best of our way for the island of Juan Fernandes. For though our next rendezvous was appointed off the harbour of Baldivia, yet as we had hitherto seen none of our companions at this first rendezvous, it was not to be supposed that any of them would be found at the second: indeed we had the greatest reason to suspect that all but ourselves had perished. Besides, we were by this time reduced to so low a condition, that instead of attempting to attack the places of the enemy, our utmost hopes could only suggest to us the possibility of saving the ship, and some part of the remaining enfeebled crew, by our speedy arrival at Juan Fernandes; for this was the only road in that part of the world where there was any probability of our recovering our sick, or refitting our vessel, and consequently our getting thither was the only chance we had left to avoid perishing at sea.
Our deplorable situation then allowing no room for deliberation, we stood for the island of Juan Fernandes; and to save time, which was now extremely precious (our men dying four, five, and six in a day), and likewise to avoid being engaged again with a lee shore, we resolved, if possible, to hit the island upon a meridian. And, on the 28th of May, being nearly in the parallel upon which it is laid down, we had great expectations of seeing it: but not finding it in the position in which the charts had taught us to expect it, we began to fear that we had gone too far to the westward; and therefore, though the commodore himself was strongly persuaded that he saw it on the morning of the 28th, yet his officers believing it to be only a cloud, to which opinion the haziness of the weather gave some kind of countenance, it was, on a consultation, resolved to stand to the eastward, in the parallel of the island, as it was certain that by this course we should either fall in with the island, if we were already to the westward of it, or should at least make the mainland of Chili, from whence we might take a new departure, and assure ourselves, by running to the westward afterwards, of not missing the island a second time.
On the 30th of May we had a view of the continent of Chili, distant about twelve or thirteen leagues; the land made exceeding high and uneven, and appeared quite white; what we saw being doubtless a part of the Cordilleras, which are always covered with snow. Though by this view of the land we ascertained our position, yet it gave us great uneasiness to find that we had so needlessly altered our course, when we were, in all probability, just upon the point of making the island; for the mortality amongst us was now increased to a most dreadful degree, and those who remained alive were utterly dispirited by this new disappointment, and the prospect of their longer continuance at sea. Our water too began to grow scarce; so that a general dejection prevailed amongst us, which added much to the virulence of the disease, and destroyed numbers of our best men; and to all these calamities there was added this vexatious circumstance, that when, after having got a sight of the main, we tacked and stood to the westward in quest of the island, we were so much delayed by calms and contrary winds, that it cost us nine days to regain the westing which, when we stood to the eastward, we ran down in two. In this desponding condition, with a crazy ship, a great scarcity of fresh water, and a crew so universally diseased that there were not above ten fore-mast men in a watch capable of doing duty, and even some of these lame, and unable to go aloft: under these disheartening circumstances, we stood to the westward; and, on the 9th of June, at daybreak, we at last discovered the long-wished-for island of Juan Fernandes. With this discovery I shall close this chapter and the first book, after observing (which will furnish a very strong image of our unparalleled distresses) that by our suspecting ourselves to be to the westward of the island on the 28th of May, and in consequence of this standing in for the main, we lost between seventy and eighty of our men, whom we should doubtless have saved had we made the island that day, which, had we kept on our course for a few hours longer, we could not have failed to have done.