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Page 16
Well, I set her south again, but how long can you know if you are
sailing south, in those places where the northeast winds and Scotch
mists come from! Thank Heaven, we got south, or we should have frozen to
death. We got into November, and we got into December. We were as far
south as 37� 29'; and were in 31� 17' west on New Year's Day, 1866, when
the second officer wished me a happy new year, congratulated me on the
fine weather, said we should get a good observation, and asked me for
the new nautical almanac! You know they are only calculated for five
years. We had two Greenwich ones on board, and they ran out December 31,
1865. But the government had been as stingy in almanacs as in coal and
compasses. They did not mean to keep the Confederacy in almanacs.
That was the beginning of our troubles. I had to take the old almanac,
with Prendergast, and we figured like Cocker, and always kept ahead with
a month's tables. But somehow,--I feel sure we were right,--but
something was wrong; and after a few weeks the lunars used to come out
in the most beastly way, and we always proved to be on the top of the
Andes or in the Marquesas Islands, or anywhere but in the Atlantic
Ocean. Well then, by good luck, we spoke the Winged Batavian; could not
speak a word of Dutch, nor he a word of English; but he let Ethan copy
his tables, and so we ran for St. Sacrament. I posted 8, 9, and 10
there; I gave the Dutchman 7, which I hope you got, but fear.
Well, this story is running long; but at St. Sacrament we started again,
but, as ill-luck would have it, without a clean bill of health. At that
time I could have run into Bahia with coal--of which I had bought
some--in a week. But there was fever on shore,--and bad,--and I knew we
must make pratique when we came into the outer harbor here; so, rather
than do that, we stretched down the coast, and met that cyclone I wrote
you about, and had to put into Loando. Understand, this was the first
time we went into Loando. I have learned that wretched hole well enough
since. And it was as we were running out of Loando, that, in reversing
the engine too suddenly, lest we should smash up an old Portuguese
woman's bum-boat, that the slides or supports of the piston-rod just
shot out of the grooves they run in on the top, came cleverly down on
the outside of the carriage, gave that odious _g-r-r-r_, which I can
hear now, and then, _dump_,--down came the whole weight of the
walking-beam, bent rod and carriages all into three figure 8's, and
there we were! I had as lief run the boat with a clothes-wringer as with
that engine, any day, from then to now.
Well, we tinkered, and the Portuguese dock-yard people tinkered. We took
out this, and they took out that. It was growing sickly, and I got
frightened, and finally I shipped the propeller and took it on board,
and started under such canvas as we had left,--not much after the
cyclone,--for the North and the South together had rather rotted the
original duck.
Then,--as I wrote you in No. 11,--it was too late to get to Bahia before
that summer's sickly season, and I stretched off to cooler regions
again, "in my best discretion." That was the time when we had the fever
so horribly on board; and but for Wilder the surgeon, and the Falkland
Islands, we should be dead, every man of us, now. But we touched in
Queen's Bay just in time. The Governor (who is his own only subject) was
very cordial and jolly and kind. We all went ashore, and pitched tents,
and ate ducks and penguins till the men grew strong. I scraped her,
nearly down to the bends, for the grass floated by our side like a
mermaid's hair as we sailed, and the once swift Florida would not make
four knots an hour on the wind;--and this was the ship I was to get into
Bahia in good order, at my best discretion!
Meanwhile none of these people had any news from America. The last
paper at the Falkland Islands was a London Times of 1864, abusing the
Yankees. As for the Portuguese, they were like the people Logan saw at
Vicksburg. "They don't know anything good!" said he; "they don't know
anything at all!" It was really more for news than for water I put into
Sta. Lucia,--and a pretty mess I made of it there. We looked so like
pirates (as at bottom the old tub is), that they took all of us who
landed to the guard-house. None of us could speak Sta. Lucia, whatever
that tongue may be, nor understand it. And it was not till Ethan fired a
shell from the 100-pound Parrott over the town that they let us go. I
hope the dogs sent you my letters. I suppose there was another
infringement of neutrality. But if the Brazilian government sends this
ship to Sta. Lucia, I shall not command her, that's all!
Well! what happened at Loando the second time, Valencia, and Puntos
Pimos, and Nueva Salamanca, and Loando this last time, you know and will
know, and why we loitered so. At last, thank fortune, here we are.
Actually, Mary, this ship logged on the average only thirty-two knots a
day for the last week before we got her into port.
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