Part 6 (1/2)
We hoisted a carefully-trimmed and brilliant lamp well up on our fore-stay as soon as night closed in, for we were in the track of the outward-bound s.h.i.+ps going to the southward, and should one of these gentlemen come booming down upon us before the gale during the night, it would be rather difficult to avoid him.
It was well that we took this precaution, for no less than five pa.s.sed us in Bob's watch, and three more in mine, one of them coming near enough to hail; but what he said it was impossible for me to hear, the howling of the wind and the hissing of the water so close to me utterly drowning the words.
I conjectured, however, that it was some inquiry as to whether we wanted a.s.sistance of any kind, and on the strength of this supposition I roared back at the top of my voice:
”All right; very comfortable.”
A figure in the mizzen-rigging waved his hand, and the n.o.ble craft (she looked like an Australian liner, and was carrying topmast and lower stunsails) swept onward, and was soon afterwards swallowed up in the darkness and mist.
The falling in with so tiny a craft so far at sea, and in a gale of wind, and the announcement that she was ”all right and very comfortable,” must have been rather a novel experience for them, I imagine.
About noon next day the gale broke, and by four o'clock the wind had gone down sufficiently to justify us in making sail and filling away upon our course once more. This we did by setting our reefed mainsail, foresail, and Number 2 jib. The wind had continued to haul round too, and was now pretty steady at about north-east. This rapidly smoothed the water down, so that we had a comparatively quiet night; and the wind continuing to drop, we shook out our reefs next morning at eight bells, and got the big jib and small gaff-topsail upon her.
The evening but one following we got a glimpse of Cape Finisterre about six o'clock, and this enabled us to corroborate our position. From this point we shaped a course for Madeira, and after a splendid run of seven days from the Lizard and eight from Weymouth we arrived at Funchal at half-past five o'clock on the Wednesday evening following that on which I took leave of my dear sister.
As Bob was busy below getting tea, and I was stowing the canvas, a steamer came in with a flag flying, which, on taking a look at it through the gla.s.s, I recognised as the distinguis.h.i.+ng flag of the Cape mail-boats, so I left everything just as it was, dashed down below, and penned a few hasty lines home, giving a brief outline of our adventures so far, and taking care not to lay too much stress upon the gale, whilst I was equally careful to do full justice to the _Water Lily's_ sea-going qualities, that my sister's apprehensions might be as much allayed as possible.
As soon as I had finished and sealed the epistle I joined Bob upon deck to a.s.sist him in putting our novel boat together, which done, we pulled on board the mail-boat, where we were very kindly received; and I gave my letter into the hands of the captain, who promised (and faithfully redeemed his promise too) to post it on his arrival home.
I afterwards found that he reported us also, so that the _Water Lily_ duly appeared in the ”s.h.i.+pping” columns of the various papers, and my yachting friends thus got an inkling of our success thus far.
I shall not attempt any description of Madeira, or indeed of any other of the well-known spots at which we touched. The places have been so often and so fully described in the many books of travel which have been written, that any further description, or at all events such description as I could give, is quite superfluous. It will suffice for me merely to say that Bob and I spent three days stretching our somewhat cramped limbs in this most lovely island, and discussing which route we should take to the Pacific.
We had often discussed this question before; but it was with a feeling of indifference which precluded our arriving at any definite and absolute decision upon the matter. It was now, however, time that this point was settled, as it would affect our course soon after leaving the island, or, at all events, when we came to the Cape de Verdes.
The eastern route would be much longer than the western; but I felt disposed to adopt it, in the belief that we should be favoured with much better weather. I entertained a very wholesome dread of the ”Horn”--the notorious ”Cape of Storms.” Bob, on the other hand, was all for the western route.
”I'm willin' to allow,” observed he, ”that a trip round the Horn ain't like a day's cruise in the Solent--all pleasuring; but I've knowed s.h.i.+ps to come round under r'yal stunsails, and that more than once. The place is bad enough; but, like many another thing, not so black as it's painted. It's got a bad name, and that, we know, sticks to a place or to a body through thick and thin. I've been round five times, twice outward-bound and three times homeward, and we always had plenty of wind; but only once did I round it in a reg'lar gale, and then, had the _Lily_ been there, I'll lay my grog for the rest of the v'yage she'd have made better weather of it than the old barkie I was aboard of.
It's risky, I know; but so's the whole trip for that matter, though, so far, by what I've seen of the little craft, I'd as lieve be aboard _her_ in a gale of wind as I would be in ere a s.h.i.+p that ever was launched.
She's cramped for room, and when you've said that you've said all as any man can say ag'in her. Besides, see how 'twill shorten the v'yage.
Once round the Horn and you're there, as you may say, or next door to it. And then, there's 'Magellan;' if, when we get down about there, things don't look promising for a trip round outside of everything, ram her through the Straits. I've been through 'em once, and an ugly enough pa.s.sage it was too, blowing a whole gale; but there's _thousands_ of places where the _Lily_ would lie as snug as if she was in dock, but where a large s.h.i.+p dursen't venture for her life.”
I yielded, as I generally did in such matters, to Bob's judgment; and it was settled that the _Water Lily_ should brave Cape Horn with all its perils. On the fourth day of our stay at Funchal we filled up our water-tank, made a few additions to our stores (among others, a small stock of the famous wine produced by the island); and towards evening stood out to sea again, with our main-boom well garnished with bunches of bananas and nets of various kinds of fruits; the wind at the time being light, from about east-south-east, with a fine settled look about the weather. This lasted us for four days, and ran us fairly into the ”trades,” and on the third day following, just as the sun was dipping beneath the horizon, we sighted Saint Antonio, the westernmost of the Cape Verde Islands.
The ”trades” were blowing very moderately as it happened, and the weather was as fine as heart could wish, with a nearly full moon into the bargain, so we were able to carry not only a jib-headed topsail, but also our spinnaker at the bowsprit-end; and under this canvas the little beauty made uncommonly short miles of it, tripping along like a rustic belle going to her first ball. We fell in with several homeward-bound s.h.i.+ps, all of whom we requested to report us on their arrival as ”all well.” So fine a run had we from the Cape de Verdes, that on the morning of the fifth day after sighting them we ran into the ”doldrums”
or region of calms and light variable airs which prevail about the line.
Here our light duck did us valuable service, for though the wind soon fell so light that it became imperceptible to us, and not a ripple disturbed the gla.s.sy surface of the water, by getting our enormous balloon gaff-topsail aloft we managed to catch enough wind from _somewhere_ to fan us along at the rate of nearly three knots. True, the breeze was very variable, our boom being sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other, sometimes square out (at least as far as the little air of wind had power to project it), and sometimes hauled close in as the flaws headed us, and broke us off two or three points one side or the other of our course. But, in spite of the baffling airs, such good progress did we make, that by two o'clock that afternoon we were gliding slowly through a fleet of about forty sail of vessels which were so completely becalmed that they were heading in all directions, utterly without steerage-way.
We reported ourselves to such as we pa.s.sed within hail of, and finally, about four o'clock, ranged up alongside of and boarded a beautiful little barque of about three hundred and fifty tons, whose monkey-p.o.o.p we saw full of pa.s.sengers (some of whom were ladies), regarding us with die utmost curiosity as we approached. She turned out to be from Natal, bound to London; and her captain (a perfect gentleman both in appearance and manner) not only promised to report us, but gave us a hearty welcome on board, and so cordial an invitation to dinner that there was no resisting it.
Our story, or at least as much of it as we chose to tell (which was simply that we were taking the cruise partly as an adventure, and partly with the object of seeking intelligence of my father), was of course soon drawn out of us; and, naturally enough, it excited the liveliest astonishment in the minds of our hearers, and soon got all over the s.h.i.+p. We excited some curiosity on board the other s.h.i.+ps too, for no less than four captains lowered their boats and pulled alongside to learn where the pigmy cutter had sprung from.
The little craft was regarded with the greatest curiosity and admiration, especially by the ladies (who are of course good judges of the model of a vessel), some of them declaring that they would be _delighted_ (with strong emphasis) to make a voyage in such a little _darling_ of a yacht.
We mustered quite a strong party at the dinner-table, what with the regular party, the four visiting captains (who were also pressed to stay), and our two selves, and a very merry one withal. _We_ contributed to the dessert from our stock on the main-boom; and they only who have enjoyed it can say what a luxury is fresh fruit on the line, especially when one has been a long time on board a s.h.i.+p.
The skipper produced unlimited champagne (of which, for a wonder, he still had a very fair stock) in honour of the occasion, and ”a prosperous voyage, and success to the _Water Lily_” was drunk over and over again that evening. We kept it up until nearly midnight, the p.o.o.p being converted into a ball-room by merely hanging a few lamps in the mizzen-rigging; the orchestra consisting of one of the seamen, who played the concertina better than I ever heard it played before or since.
The weather being as I have described it, with out any signs of a change, such a departure from the ordinary routine of the s.h.i.+p was permissible, and I have no doubt everybody on board was glad enough of an occurrence which gave such an excuse for breaking in upon the monotony of the voyage.