 Chapter 1 of Sailing Alone Around the World This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Alan Chant Sailing Alone Around the World by Joshua Slocum This book was dedicated to the one who said the spray will come back. Chapter 1 Consisting of a blue-nosed ancestry with Yankee proclivities, youthful fondness for the sea, master of the ship Northern Light, loss of the Aquidneck, return home from Brazil in the canoe Libertade, the gift of a ship, the rebuilding of the spray, conundrums in regard to finance and caulking, the launching of the spray. In the fair land of Nova Scotia, a maritime province, there is a ridge called North Mountain, overlooking the Bay of Funday on one side and the fertile Annapolis Valley on the other. On the northern slope of the range grows the Hardy Spruce Tree, well adapted for ship timbers, and many vessels of all classes have been built. The people of this coast, Hardy, robust and strong, are disposed to compete in the world's commerce, and it is nothing against the master mariner if the birthplace mentioned on his certificate be Nova Scotia. I was born in a cold spot, on coldest North Mountain on a cold February the 20th, though I am a citizen of the United States, a naturalised Yankee, if it may be said that Nova Scotians are not Yankees in the truest sense of the word. On both sides my family were sailors, and if any slokum should be found not seafaring, he would show at least an inclination to whittle models of boat and contemplate voyages. My father was the sort of man who, if wrecked on a desolate island, would find his way home, if he had a jackknife and could find a tree. He was a good judge of a boat, but the old clay farm which some calamity made his was an anchor to him. He was not afraid of a capful of wind, and he never took a back seat at a camp meeting or a good old-fashioned revival. As for myself, the wonderful sea charmed me from the first. At the age of eight I had already been afloat along with other boys on the bay, with chances greatly in favour of being drowned. When alad I filled the important post of Cook on a fishing-scooner, but I was not long in the galley, for the crew mutinied at the appearance of my first duff and chucked me out before I had a chance to shine as a culinary artist. The next step towards the goal of happiness found me before the mast in a full-rigged ship bound on a foreign voyage. Thus I came over the bowels and not in through the cabin windows to the command of a ship. My best command was that of the magnificent ship Northern Light, of which I was part owner. I had a right to be proud of her, for at that time in the eighties she was the finest American sailing vessel afloat. Afterwards I owned and sailed the Aquidneck, a little bark which of all man's handiwork seemed to me the nearest to perfection of beauty, and which in speed when the wind blew asked no favours of steamers. I had been nearly twenty years a shipmaster when I quit her deck on the coast of Brazil where she was wrecked. My home voyage to New York with my family was made in the Canoe Liberdade without accident. My voyages were all foreign. I sailed as freighter and trader principally to China, Australia and Japan and among the Spice Islands. Mine was not the sort of life to make one long to coil up one's ropes on land, the customs and ways of which I had finally almost forgotten. And so when times for freighters got bad, as at last they did, and I tried to quit the sea there for an old sailor to do. I was born in the breezes and I had studied the sea as perhaps few men have studied it, neglecting all else. Next in attractiveness after seafaring came ship-building. I longed to be master of both professions, and in a small way in time I accomplished my desire. From the decks of stout ships in the worst gales I had made calculations as to the size and sort of ship safest for all weathers and all seas. Thus the voyage which I am now to narrate was a natural outcome not only of my love of adventure but of my lifelong experience. One midwinter day in 1892 in Boston where I had been cast up from old ocean so to speak a year or two before I was cogitating whether I should apply for a command and again eat my bread and butter on the sea or go to work at the shipyard. When I met an old acquaintance, a wailing captain who said come to Fairhaven and I'll give you a ship but he added she wants some repairs. The captain's terms when fully explained were more than satisfactory to me. They included all the assistance I would require to fit the craft for sea. I was only too glad to accept for I had already found that I could not obtain work in a shipyard without first paying fifty dollars to a society, and as for a ship to command there were not enough ships to go round. Nearly all our tall vessels had been cut down for coal barges and were being ignominiously towed by the nose from port to port while many worthy captains addressed themselves to sailor's snug harbour. The next day I landed at Fairhaven opposite New Bedford and found that my friend had something of a joke on me. For seven years the joke had been on him. The ship proved to be a very antiquated sloop called the Spray which the neighbours declared had been built in the year one. She was affectionately propped up in a field some distance from salt water and was covered with canvas. The people of Fairhaven I hardly need say are thrifty and observant. For seven years they had asked, I wonder what captain Eben Pierce is going to do with the old spray. The day I appeared there was a buzz at the gossip exchange. At last someone had come and was actually at work on the old spray. Breaking her up I suppose? No, going to rebuild her. Great was the amazement. Will it pay was the question which for a year or more I answered by declaring that I would make it pay. My axe felled a stout oak tree nearby for a keel and Farmer Howard, for a small sum of money, hauled in this and enough timbers for the frame of the new vessel. I rigged a steam box and a pot for a boiler. The timbers for ribs, being straight saplings, were dressed and steamed till supple and then bent over a log where they were secured till set. Something tangible appeared every day to show for my labour and the neighbours made the work sociable. It was a great day in the spray shipyard as the stern was set up and fastened to the new keel. Whaling captains came from far to survey it with one voice they pronounced it A1 and in their opinion fit to smash ice. The oldest captain shook my hand warmly when the breast hooks were put in declaring that he could see no reason why the spray should not cut in bow-head yet off the coast of Greenland. The much-steamed stem-piece was from the butt of the smartest kind of a pasture oak. It afterwards split a coral patch in two at the Keeling Islands and did not receive a blemish. Better timber for a ship than pasture white oak never grew. The breast hooks, as well as all the ribs, were of this wood and were steamed and bent into shape as required. It was hard upon march when I began work in earnest the weather was cold. Still there were plenty of inspectors to back me with advice. When a whaling-captain hoved in sight I just rested on my ads a while and gammed with him. New Bedford, the home of whaling-captains, is connected with Fairhaven by a bridge and the walking is good. They never worked along up to the shipyard too often for me. It was the charming tales about arctic whaling that inspired me to put a double set of breast hooks in the spray that she might shunt ice. The seasons came quickly while I worked. Hardly were the ribs of the sloop up before apple trees were in bloom. Then the daisies and the cherries came soon after. Close by the place where the old spray had now dissolved rested the ashes of John Cook, a reverent pilgrim father. So the new spray rose from hallowed ground. From the deck of the new craft I could put out my hand and pick cherries that grew over the little grave. The planks of the new vessel which I soon came to put on were of georgia pine an inch and a half thick. The operation of putting them on was tedious but when on the caulking was easy. The outward edges stood slightly open to receive the caulking but the inner edges were so close that I could not see daylight between them. All the butts were fastened by through bolts with screw nuts tightening them to the timbers so that there would be no complaint from them. Many bolts with screw nuts were used in other parts of the construction in all about a thousand. It was my purpose to make my vessel stout and strong. Now it is a law in Lloyds that the Jane repaired all out of the old until she is entirely new is still the Jane. The spray changed her being so gradually that it is hard to say at what point the old died or the new took birth and it was no matter. The bulwarks high built up of white oak staunchens 14 inches high and covered with 7 eighths inch white pine. These staunchens mortised through a two inch covering board I caught with thin cedar wedges. They have remained perfectly tight ever since. The deck I made of one and a half inch by three inch white pine spiked to beams six by six inches of yellow or Georgia pine placed three feet apart. The deck enclosures were one over the aperture of the main hatch six feet by six feet for a cooking galley and a trunk further aft about ten feet by twelve for a cabin. Both of these rose about three feet above the deck and were sunk sufficiently into the hold to afford headroom. In the spaces along the sides of the cabin under the deck I arranged a berth to sleep in and shelves for small storage not forgetting a place for the medicine chest. In the midship hold that is the space between cabin and galley under the deck was room for provision of water, salt, beef etc. ample for many months. The hull of my vessel now being put together as strongly as wood and iron could make her and the various rooms partitioned off I set about caulking ship. Grave fears were entertained by some that at this point I should fail. I myself gave some thought to the advisability of a professional caulker. The very first blow I struck on the cotton with the caulking iron which I thought was right many others thought wrong. It'll crawl cried a man from Marion passing with a basket of clams on his back it'll crawl cried another from West Island when he saw me driving cotton into the seams Bruno simply wagged his tail even Mr. Ben Jay a noted authority on whaling ships whose mind however was said to totter asked rather confidently if I did not think it would crawl how fast will it crawl cried my old captain friend who had been towed by many a lively sperm whale tell us how fast cried he that we may get into port in time however I drove a thread of oakum on top of the cotton as from the first I had intended to do and Bruno again whacked his tail the cotton never crawled when the caulking was finished two coats of copper paint were slapped on the bottom two of white lead on the top sides and bulwarks the rudder was then shipped and painted and on the following day the spray was launched as she rode at her ancient rust eaton anchor she sat on the water like a swan the spray's dimensions were when finished 36 feet 9 inches long overall 14 feet 2 inches wide and 4 feet 2 inches deep in the hold her tonnage being 9 tons net and 12 and 7100 tons gross then the mast a smart new Hampshire's spruce was fitted and likewise all the smaller pertinence is necessary for a short cruise sailors were bent and away she flew with my friend Captain Pierce and me across buzzards bay on a trial trip all right the only thing that now worried my friends along the beach was will she pay the cost of my new vessel was $553.62 for materials and 13 months of my own labor I was several months more than that at Fairhaven for I got work now and then on an occasional whale ship fitting farther down the harbor and that kept me the overtime End of chapter 1 Recording by Alan Chan in Tumbridge Kent England www.7oaksprep.kent.sch.uk Chapter 2 of Sailing Alone Around the World This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Alan Chan Sailing Alone Around the World by Joshua Slokan Chapter 2 Containing failure as a fisherman a voyage around the world projected from Boston to Gloucester fitting out for the ocean voyage half of a dory for a ship's boat a run from Gloucester to Nova Scotia a shaking up in home waters among old friends I spent a season in my new craft fishing on the coast only to find that I had not the cunning properly to bait a hook but at last the time arrived to Wei Anker and get to sea in earnest I had resolved on a voyage around the world and as the wind on the morning of April 24th 1895 was fair at noon I Wei Anker set sail and filled away from Boston where the spray had been moored snugly all winter the twelve o'clock whistles were blowing just as the sloop shot ahead under full sail a shortboard was made up the harbour on the port tack then coming about she stood seaward with her boom well off to port swung past the ferries with lively heels a photographer on the outer pier at East Boston got a picture of her as she swept by her flag at the peak throwing its folds clear a thrilling pulse beat high in me my step was light on deck in the crisp air I felt that there could be no turning back and that I was engaging in an adventure the meaning of which I thoroughly understood I had taken little advice from any one for I had a right to my own opinion in matters pertaining to the sea that the best of sailors might do worse than even I alone was born in upon me not a league from Boston's docks where a great steamship fully manned officer and piloted lay stranded and broken this was the Venetian she was broken completely in two over a ledge so in the first hour of my lone voyage I had proof that the spray could at least do better than this fully-handed steamship for I was already further on my voyage than she take warning spray and have a care I uttered aloud to my bark passing fairy-like silently down the bay the wind freshened and the spray rounded dear island light at the rate of seven knots passing it she squared away direct for Gloucester to procure there some fisherman's stores waves dancing joyously across Massachusetts bay met her coming out of the harbour to dash them into myriads of sparkling gems that hung about her at every surge the day was perfect the sunlight clear and strong every particle of water thrown into the air became a gem and the spray bounding ahead snatched necklace after necklace from the sea and as often threw them away we have all seen miniature rainbows about a ship's prow but the spray flung out a bow of her own that day such as I have never seen before her good angel had embarked on the voyage so I read it in the sea bold and a hand was sooner beam then marble head was put a stern other vessels were outward bound but none of them passed the spray flying along on her course I heard the clanking of the dismal bell on Norman's woe as we went by and the reef where the schooner Hesperus struck I passed close aboard the bones of a wreck tossed up lay bleaching on the shore abreast the wind still freshening I settled the throat of the mainsail to ease the sloop's helm for I could hardly hold her before it with the whole mainsail set a schooner ahead of me lowered all sail and ran into port under bare poles the wind being fair as the spray brushed by the stranger I saw that some of his sails were gone and much broken canvas hung in his rigging from the effects of a squall I made for the cove a lovely branch of Gloucester's fine harbour again to look the spray over and again to weigh the voyage and my feelings and all that the bay was feather white as my little vessel Torrin smothered in foam it was my first experience of coming into port alone with a craft of any size and in among shipping old fisherman ran down to the wharf for which the spray was heading apparently intent upon braining herself there I hardly know how a calamity was averted but with my heart in my mouth almost I let go the wheel, stepped quickly forward and down to the jib the sloop naturally rounded in the wind and just ranging ahead laid her cheek against a mooring pile at the Wynwood corner of the wharf so quietly after all that she would not have broken an egg very leisurely I passed a rope around the post and she was moored then a cheer went up from the little crowd on the wharf you couldn't have done it better cried an old skipper if you weighed a ton now my weight was rather less than the fifteenth part of a ton but I said nothing only putting on a look of careless indifference to say for me oh that's nothing for some of the ablest sailors in the world were looking at me and my wish was not to appear green for I had a mind to stay in Gloucester several days had I uttered a word it surely would have betrayed me for I was still quite nervous and short of breath I remained in Gloucester about two weeks fitting out with the various articles for the journey most readily obtained there the owners of the wharf where I lay and of many fishing vessels put on board dry cod galore also a barrel of oil to calm the waves they were old skippers themselves and took a great interest in the voyage they also made the spray a present of a fisherman's own lantern which I found would throw a light a great distance round indeed a ship that would run another down having such a good lighter board would be capable of running into a light ship a gaff, a pew, and a dip net all of which an old fisherman declared I could not sail without but also put aboard then too from across the cove came a case of copper paint a famous anti-fouling article which stood me in good stead long after I slapped two coats of this paint on the bottom of the spray while she lay a tide or so on the hard beach for a boat to take along I made shift to cut a castaway dory into two a-thwart ships boarding up the end where it was cut this half-dory I could hoist in and out by the nose easily enough by hooking the throat-halyards to a strop fitted for the purpose a whole dory would be heavy and awkward to handle alone manifestly there was not room on deck for more than the half of a boat which after all was better than no boat at all and was large enough for one man I perceived moreover that the newly arranged craft would answer for a washing machine when placed to thwart ships and also for a bathtub indeed for the former office my Resid dory gained such a reputation on the voyage that my washerwoman in Samoa would not take no for an answer she could see with one eye that it was a new invention which beat any Yankee notion ever brought by missionaries to the island and she had to have it the want of a chronometer for the voyage was all that now worried me in our newfangled notions of navigation it is supposed that a mariner cannot find his way without one and I had myself drifted into this way of thinking my old chronometer, a good one, had been long in disuse it would cost fifteen dollars to clean and rate it fifteen dollars for sufficient reasons I left that time-piece at home where the Dutchman left his anchor I had the great lantern and a lady in Boston sent me the price of a large two-burner cabin lamp which lighted the cabin at night and by some small contriving served for a stove through the day being thus refitted I was once more ready for sea and on May the 7th again made sail with little room in which to turn the spray in gathering headway scratched the paint of an old fine weathercraft in the fairway being putted and painted for a summer voyage all pay for that, growled the painters I will, said I with the main sheet echoed the captain of the bluebird close by which was his way of saying that I was off there was nothing to pay for above five cents worth of paint maybe but such a din was raised between the old hooker and the bluebird which now took up my case that the first cause of it was forgotten altogether anyhow no bill was sent after me the weather was mild on the day of my departure from Gloucester on the point ahead as the spray stood out of the cove was a lively picture for the front of a tall factory was a flutter of handkerchiefs and caps pretty faces peered out of the windows from the top to the bottom of the building all smiling bomb voyage some hailed me to know where away and why alone why? when I made as if to stand in a hundred pairs of arms reached out and said come but the shore was dangerous the sloop worked out of the bay against a light southwest wind and about noon squared away off eastern point receiving at the same time a hearty salute the last of many kindnesses to Herakloster the wind freshened off the point and skipping along smoothly the spray was soon off Thatcher's Island Lights dense shaping her course east by compass to go north of Caches ledge and the Amen rocks I sat and considered the matter all over again and asked myself once more whether it were best to sail beyond the ledge and rocks at all I had only said that I would sail round the world in the spray dangers of the sea accepted but I must have said it very much in earnest the charter party with myself seemed to bind me and so I sailed on towards night I hauled the sloop to the wind and baiting a hook sounded for bottom fish in 30 fathoms of water on the edge of Caches ledge with fair success I hauled till dark putting on deck three cod and two haddocks one hake and best of all a small halibut all plump and spry this I thought would be the place to take in a good stock of provisions above what I already had so I put out a sea anchor that would hold her head to windward the current being southwest against the wind I felt quite sure that I would find the spray still on the bank or near it in the morning then straddling the cable and putting my great lantern in the rigging I lay down for the first time at sea alone not to sleep but to doze and to dream I had read somewhere of a fishing schooner hooking her anchor into a whale and being towed a long way and at great speed this is exactly what happened to the spray in my dream I could not shake it off entirely when I awoke and found that it was the wind blowing and the heavy sea now running that had disturbed my short rest a scud was flying across the moon a storm was brewing indeed it was already stormy I reefed the sails then hauled in my sea anchor and setting what canvas the sloop could carry headed her away for monhegan light which she made before daylight on the morning of the eighth the wind being free I ran on into round pond harbour which is a little port east from permacwid here I rested a day while the wind rattled among the pine trees on shore but the following day was fine enough and I put to sea first writing to my log from Cape Ann not omitting a full account of my adventure with the whale the spray heading east stretched along the coast among many islands and over a tranquil sea at evening of this day May the tenth she came up with a considerable island which I shall always think of as the island of frogs for the spray was charmed by a million voices from the island of frogs we made for the island of birds called Gannet Island and sometimes Gannet Rock where on is a bright intermittent light which flashed fitfully across the spray's decks as she coasted along under its light and shade then shaping a course for Briers Island I came among vessels the following afternoon on the western fishing grounds and after speaking a fisherman at anchor who gave me a wrong course the spray sailed directly over the south west ledge through the worst tide race in the Bay of Fundy and got into Westport Harbour in Nova Scotia where I had spent eight years of my life as a lad the fisherman may have said east south east the course I was steering when I hailed him but I thought he said east north east and I accordingly changed it to that before he had made up his mind to answer me at all he improved the occasion of his own curiosity to know where I was from and if I was alone and if I didn't have no dog or no cat it was the first time in all my life at sea that I had heard a hail for information answered by a question I think the chap belonged to the foreign islands there was one thing I was sure of and that was that he did not belong to Briers Island because he dodged a sea that slopped over the rail and stopping to brush the water from his face and lost a fine cod which he was about to ship my islander would not have done that it is known that a Brier Islander fish or no fish on his hook never flinches from a sea he just tends to his lines and hauls or sores nay, have I not seen my old friend Deacon W.D. a good man of the island while listening to a sermon in the little church on the hill to reach out his hand over the door of his pew and jig imaginary squid in the aisle to the intense delight of the young people who did not realise that to catch good fish one must have good bait, the thing most on the Deacon's mind I was delighted to reach Westport any port at all would have been delightful after the terrible thrashing that I got in the fierce south-west rip and to find myself among old schoolmates now was charming it was the thirteenth of the month and thirteen is my lucky number a fact registered long before Dr. Nansen sailed in search of the north pole with his crew of thirteen perhaps he had heard of my success in taking a most extraordinary ship successfully to Brazil with that number of crew the very stones on Brier's island I was glad to see again and I knew them all the little shop round the corner which for thirty-five years I had not seen was the same except that it looked to deal smaller it wore the same shingles I was sure of it for did not I know the roof where we boys night after night hunted for the skin of a black cat to be taken on a dark night to make a plaster for a poor lame man Lowry the tailor lived there when boys were boys in his day he was fond of the gun he always carried his powder loose in the tail pocket of his coat he usually had in his mouth a short Dadeen but in an evil moment he put the Dadeen lighted in the pocket among the powder Mr. Lowry was an eccentric man at Brier's island I overhauled the spray once more and tried her seams I found that even the test of the south-west rip had started nothing bad weather and much headwind prevailing outside I was in no hurry to round Cape Sable I made a short excursion with some friends to St. Mary's Bay an old cruising-ground and back to the island then I sailed putting into Yarmouth the following day on a count of fog and headwind I spent some days pleasantly enough in Yarmouth took in some butter for the voyage also a barrel of potatoes filled six barrels of water and stowed all under deck at Yarmouth too I got my famous tin clock the only timepiece I carried on the whole voyage the price of it was a dollar and a half but on a count of the face being smashed the merchant let me have it for a dollar End of Chapter 2 Recording by Alan Chant in Tumbridge Kent, England www.7oaksprep.kent.sh.uk Chapter 3 of Sailing Alone Around the World This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information ought to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Alan Chant Sailing Alone Around the World by Joshua Slocum Chapter 3 Consisting of Goodbye to the American Coast Off Sable Island in a Fog In the open sea The man in the moon takes an interest in the voyage The first fit of loneliness The spray encounters la Baguissa A bottle of wine from the Spaniard A bout of words with the captain of the Java The steamship Olympia-spoken Arrival at the Azores I now stowed all my goods securely For the boisterous Atlantic was before me And I sent the top mast down Knowing that the spray would be the wholesomer with it on deck Then I gave the lanyards a pull And hitched them afresh And saw that the gammon was secure Also that the boat was lashed For even in summer one may meet with bad weather in the crossing In fact many weeks of bad weather had prevailed On July the 1st however After a rude gale the wind came out Distant clear, propitious for a good run On the following day The head sea having gone down I sailed from Yarmouth And let go my last hold on America The log of my first day on the Atlantic In the spray reads briefly 9.30am sailed from Yarmouth 4.30pm passed Cape Sable Distance three cables from the land A loop making eight knots Fresh breeze northwest Before the sun went down I was taking my supper of strawberries and tea in smooth water Under the lee of the east coast land Along which the spray was now leisurely skirting At noon on the 3rd of July Iron bound island was a beam The spray was again at her best A large schooner came out of Liverpool Nova Scotia this morning Steering eastwards The spray put her hull down a stern in five hours At 6.45pm I was close under Chebukto headlight Near Halifax Harbour I set my flag and squared away Taking my departure from George's Island Before dark to sail east of Sable Island There are many beacon lights along the coast Sambro, the Rock of Lamentations carries a noble light Which, however, the liner Atlantic On the night of her terrible disaster did not see I watched light after light sink a stern As I sailed into the unbounded sea Till Sambro the last of them all Was below the horizon The spray was then alone And sailing on she held her course July 4 at 6am I put in double reefs And at 8.30am turned out all reefs At 9.40pm I raised the sheen only Of the light of the west end of Sable Island Which may also be called the Island of Tragedies The fog which till this moment had held off Now lowered over the sea like a pool I was in a world of fog, shut off from the universe I did not see any more of the light By the lead which I cast off in I found that a little after midnight I was passing the east point of the island And should soon be clear of dangers of land and shoals The wind was holding free Though it was from the foggy point south-southwest It is said that within a few years Sable Island has been reduced from 40 miles in length to 20 And that of three lighthouses built on it since 1880 Two have been washed away And the third will soon be engulfed On the evening of July 5 The spray, after having steered all day over a lumpy sea Took it into her head to go without the helmsman's aid I had been steering south-east by south But the wind hauling forward a bit She dropped into a smooth lane heading south-east And making about eight knots her very best work I crowded on sail to cross the track of the liners Without loss of time And to reach as soon as possible the friendly gulf stream The fog lifting before night I was afforded a look at the sun Just as it was touching the sea I watched it go down and out of sight Then I turned my face eastward And there, apparently at the very end of the bowsprit Was the smiling full moon rising out of the sea Neptune himself coming over the boughs Could not have startled me more Good evening, sir, I cried I am glad to see you In many a long talk since then I have had with the man in the moon He had my confidence on the voyage About midnight the fog shut down again Denser than ever before One could almost stand on it It continued so for a number of days The wind increasing to a gale The waves rose higher But I had a good ship Still in the dismal fog I felt myself drifting into loneliness An insect on a straw in the midst of the elements I lashed the helm and my vessel held her course And while she sailed I slept During these days a feeling of awe crept over me My memory worked with startling power The ominous, the insignificant The great, the small The wonderful, the commonplace All appeared before my mental vision in magic succession Pages of my history were recalled Which had been so long forgotten That they seemed to belong to a previous existence I heard all the voices of the past laughing, crying Telling what I had heard them tell in many corners of the earth The loneliness of my state wore off when the gale was high And I found much work to do When fine weather returned Then came the sense of solitude which I could not shake off I used my voice often At first giving some order about the affairs of a ship For I had been told that from disuse I should lose my speech At the meridian altitude of the sun I called aloud Great bells after the custom on a ship at sea Again from my cabin I cried to an imaginary man at the helm How does she head there? And again, is she on her course? But getting no reply I was reminded the more palpably of my condition My voice sounded hollow on the empty air And I dropped the practice However it was not long before the thought came to me That when I was a lad I used to sing Why not try that now where it would disturb no one? My musical talent had never bred envy in others But out on the Atlantic to realise what it meant You should have heard me sing You should have seen the porpoises leap When I pitched my voice for the waves and the sea And all that was in it Old turtles with large eyes poked their head up out of the sea As I sang Johnny Boker And we'll pay Derby Doyle for his boots and the like But the porpoises were on the whole Vastly more appreciative than the turtles They jumped a deal higher One day when I was humming a favourite chant I think it was Babylon's a-fallen A porpoise jumped higher than the bowsprit Had the spray been going a little faster She would have scooped him in The seabird sailed round rather shy July 10, eight days at sea The spray was twelve hundred miles east of Cape Sable One hundred and fifty miles a day for so small a vessel Must be considered good sailing It was the greatest run on the spray ever made before Or since in so few days On the evening of July 14 in better humour than ever before All hands cried, Sail ho! The sail was a barkentine Three points on the weather-bow hull down Then came the night My ship was sailing along now Without attention to the helm The wind was south, she was heading east Her sails were trimmed like the sail of the Nautilus They drew steadily all night I went frequently on deck, but found all well A merry breeze kept on from the south Early in the morning of the fifteenth The spray was close aboard the stranger Which proved to be Larvaquiza of Vigo Twenty-three days from Philadelphia bound for Vigo A look out from his mast-head had spied the spray The evening before The captain, when I came near enough, threw a line to me And sent a bottle of wine across slung by the neck And very good wine it was He also sent his card which bore the name of Juan Gunties I think he was a good man as Spaniards go But when I asked him to report me all well The spray passing him in a lively manner He hauled his shoulders much above his head And when his mate, who knew of my expedition Told him that I was alone He crossed himself and made for his cabin I did not see him again By sundown he was as far as stern As he had been ahead the evening before There was now less and less monotony On July 16 the wind was north-west and clear The sea smooth and a large bark Hulled down came inside on the lee-bow And at two-thirty p.m. I spoke to the stranger She was the barked java of Glasgow From Peru for Queenstown for orders Her old captain was bearish But I met a bear once in Alaska that looked pleasanter At least the bear seemed pleased to meet me But this grizzly old man Well I suppose my hail disturbed his siesta And my little sloop passing his great ship Had somewhat the effect on him That a red rag has upon a bull I had the advantage over heavy ships by long odds In the light winds of this and the two previous days The wind was light His ship was heavy and foul making poor headway While the spray with a great mainsail Bellying even to light winds was just skipping along As nimbly as one could wish How long has it been calm about here? Roared the captain of the java As I came within hail of him Don't know, captain I shouted back as loud as I could bawl I haven't been here long At this the mate on the focacil wore a broad grin I left Cape Sable fourteen days ago, I added I was now well across towards the Azores Mate, he roared to his chief officer Mate, come here and listen to the Yankees' yarn Hold down the flag, mate, hold down the flag In the best of humour after all The java surrendered to the spray The acute pain of solitude experienced at first Never returned I had penetrated a mystery And, by the way, I had sailed through a fog I had met Neptune in his wroth But he found that I had not treated him with contempt And so he suffered me to go on and explore In the log for July 18 there is this entry Fine weather, the wind south-south-west Porpoises gambling all about The SS Olympia passed at eleven thirty a.m. Longitude west, thirty-four degrees, fifty minutes It now lacks three minutes of the half hour shouted the captain, as he gave me the longitude and the time I admired the business-like air of the Olympia But I have the feeling still that the captain was just a little too precise in his reckoning That may be all well enough, however, where there is plenty of sea-room But overconfidence, I believe, was the cause of the disaster to the liner Atlantic And many more like her The captain knew too well where he was There were no porpoises at all skipping along with the Olympia Porpoises always prefer sailing ships The captain was a young man, I observed And had before him, I hope, a good record Land ho! On the morning of July 19 a mystic dome like a mountain of silver Stood alone in the sea ahead Although the land was completely hidden by the white glistening haze That shone in the sun like polished silver I felt quite sure that it was Flores Island At half-past four p.m. it was a beam The haze in the meantime had disappeared Flores is one hundred and seventy-four miles from Fayel And although it is a high island It remained many years undiscovered after the principal group of the islands Had been colonised Early on the morning of July 20 I saw Pico looming above the clouds on the starboard bow Lower lands burst forth as the sun burned away the morning fog And island after island came into view As I approached nearer cultivated fields appeared And, oh, how green the corn! Only those who have seen the azores from the deck of a vessel Is the beauty of the mid-ocean picture At four-thirty p.m. I cast anchor at Fayel Exactly eighteen days from Cape Sable The American consul in a smart boat came alongside Before the spray reached the breakwater And a young naval officer who feared for the safety of my vessel Boarded and offered his services as pilot The youngster, I have no good reason to doubt Could have handled a man of war But the spray was too small for the amount of uniform he wore However, after fouling all the craft in port And sinking a lighter She was moored without much damage to herself This wonderful pilot expected a gratification, I understand But whether for the reason that his government and not I Would have to pay the cost of raising the lighter Or because he did not sink the spray I never could make out, but I forgive him It was the season for fruit when I arrived at the azores And there was soon more of all kinds of it Put on board than I knew what to do with Islanders are always the kindest people in the world And I met none anywhere kinder than the good hearts of this place The people of the Azores are not a very rich community The burden of taxes is heavy with scant privileges in return The air they breathe being about the only thing that is not taxed The mother country does not even allow them a port of entry For a foreign mail service A packet passing never so close with mails for Horta Must deliver them first in Lisbon ostensibly to be fumigated But really for the tariff from the packet My own letters posted at Horta reached the United States Six days behind my letter from Gibraltar Mailed thirteen days later The day after my arrival at Horta was the feast of a great saint Boats loaded with people came from other islands to celebrate at Horta the capital Or Jerusalem of the Azores The deck of the spray was crowded from morning till night with men, women and children On the day after the feast a kind-hearted native Harnessed a team and drove me a day over the beautiful roads all about fail Because, he said, in broken English When I was in America and couldn't speak a word of English I found it hard till I met someone who seemed to have time to listen to my story And I promised my good saint then That if ever a stranger came to my country I would try to make him happy Unfortunately this gentleman brought along an interpreter that I might learn more of the country The fellow was nearly the death of me Talking of ships and voyages and of the boats he had steered The last thing in the world I wished to hear He had sailed out of New Bedford so he said for that jaw-wing they called John My friend and host found hardly a chance to edge in a word Before we parted my host dined me with a cheer that would have gladdened the heart of a prince But he was quite alone in his house My wife and children all rest there, he said, pointing to the church out across the way I moved to this house from afar off, he added, to be near the spot where I pray every morning I remained four days at fail, and that was two days more than I had intended to stay It was the kindness of the islanders and their touching simplicity which detained me A damsel as innocent as an angel came alongside one day She would embark on the spray if I would land her at Lisbon She could cook flying fish, she thought, but her forte was dressing battle-hail Her brother Antonio, who served as interpreter, hinted that anyhow he would like to make the trip Antonio's heart went out to one John Wilson and he was ready to sail for America by way of the two capes to meet his friend Do you know John Wilson of Boston? he cried I knew a John Wilson, I said, but not of Boston He have one daughter and one son, said Antonio, by way of identifying his friend If this reaches the right John Wilson, I am told to say that Antonio of Pico remembers him End of Chapter 3, recording by Alan Chand in Tumbridge Kent, England www.7oaksprep.kent.sch.uk Chapter 4 of Sailing Alone Around the World This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Alan Chand Sailing Alone Around the World by Joshua Slokan Chapter 4, consisting of squally weather in the Azores High living, delirious from cheese and plums The pilot of the pinter at Gibraltar Compliments exchanged with the British Navy A picnic on the Morocco shore I set sail from Horta early on July 24 The south west wind at the time was light But squalls came up with the sun and I was glad enough to get reefs in my sails before I had gone a mile I had hardly set the mainsail double reefed when a squall of wind down the mountains struck the sloop with such violence that I thought her mast would go However, a quick helm brought her to the wind As it was, one of the weather lanyards was carried away and the other was stranded My tin basin caught up by the wind went flying across a French school ship to Lourdes It was more or less squally all day sailing along under high land But round in close under a bluff I found an opportunity to mend the lanyards broken in the school No sooner had I lowered my sails when a four-odd boat shot out from some gully in the rocks with a customs officer on board who thought he had come upon a smuggler I had some difficulty in making him comprehend the true cause However, one of his crew, a sailorly chap who understood how matters were While we perlavered jumped on board and rove off the new lanyards I had already prepared and with a friendly hand helped me set up the rigging This incident gave the turn in my favour the story was then clear to all I have found this the way of the world Let one be without a friend and see what will happen Passing the island of Pico after the rigging was amended the spray stretched across to Lourdes of the island of St. Michael's Which she was up with early on the morning of July 26, the wind blowing hard Later in the day she passed the Prince of Monaco's fine steam yacht bound to fail where on a previous voyage the Prince had slipped his cables to escape a reception Which the Padres of the island wished to give him Why he so dreaded the ovation I could not make out At Horta they did not know Since reaching the islands I have lived most luxuriously on fresh bread, butter, vegetables and fruits of all kinds Plums seemed the most plentiful on the spray and these I ate without stint I had also a Pico white cheese that General Manning the American Consul General had given me Which I supposed was to be eaten and of this I partook with the plums Alas by night time I was doubled up with cramps The wind which was already a smart breeze was increasing somewhat with a heavy sky to the south west Reeves had been turned out and I must turn them in again somehow Between cramps I got the mainsail down, hauled out the earrings as best I could and tied away point by point in the double reef There being sea room I should in strict prudence have made all snug and gone down at once to my cabin I am a careful man at sea, but this night in the coming storm I swayed up my sails which, reefed though they were, were still too much in such heavy weather And I saw to it that the sheets were securely belayed In a word I should have laid too, but did not I gave her the double reefed mainsail and the whole jib instead and set her on her course Then I went below and threw myself upon the cabin floor in great pain How long I lay there I could not tell for I became delirious When I came to as I thought from my swoon I realised that the sloop was plunging into a heavy sea And looking out of the companion way to my amazement I saw a tall man at the helm His rigid hand grasping the spokes of the wheel held them as in a vice One may imagine my astonishment His rig was that of a foreign sailor and the large red cap he wore was cock-billed over his left ear And all was set off with shaggy black whiskers He would have been taken for a pirate in any part of the world While I gazed upon his threatening aspect I forgot the storm and wondered if he had come to cut my throat This he seemed to divine Señor he said doffing his cap I have come to do you no harm And a smile the faintest in the world but still a smile played on his face which seemed not unkind when he spoke I have come to do you no harm I have sailed free he said But was never worse than a contrabandista I am one of Columbus's crew he continued I am the pilot of the pinter come to aid you lies quiet senor captain he added And I will guide your ship tonight You have a calentura but you will be all right tomorrow I thought what a very devil he was to carry sail Again as if he read my mind he exclaimed Yonder is the pinter ahead We must overtake her give her sail give her sail vale vale muy vale Biting off a large quid of black twist he said You did wrong captain to mix cheese with plums White cheese is never safe unless you know whence it comes Quien sabe it may have been from Leche de Capra and becoming capricious Avast there I cried I have no mind for moralising I made shift to spread a mattress and lie on that instead of the hard floor My eyes all the while fastened on my strange guest who remarking again that I would have Only pains and calentura chuckled as he chanted a wild song I are the waves fierce gleaming I is the tempest roar I the sea bird screaming I the Azor I suppose I was now on the mend for I was peevish and complained I detest your jingle your Azor should be at roost And would have been were it a respectable bird I begged he would tie a rope yarn on the rest of the song if there was any more of it I was still in agony Great seas were boarding the spray but in my fevered brain I thought that they were boats Falling on deck that careless dremen were throwing from wagons on the pier To which I imagined the spray was now moored and without fenders to breast her off You'll smash your boats I cried out again and again as the sea crashed on the cabin over my head You'll smash your boats but you can't hurt the spray She is strong I cried I found when my pains and calentura had gone That the deck now as white as a shark's tooth from seas washing over it Had been swept of everything movable To my astonishment I saw now at broad day that the spray was still heading as I had left her And was going like a racehorse Columbus himself could not have held her more exactly on her course The sloop had made ninety miles in the night through a rough sea I felt grateful to the old pilot but I marveled some that he had not taken in the jib The gale was moderating and by noon the sun was shining A meridian altitude and the distance on the patent log which I always kept towing Told me that she had made a true course through the twenty four hours I was getting much better now but was very weak And did not turn out reefs that day or the night following although the wind fell light But I just put my wet clothes out in the sun when it was shining And lying down there myself fell asleep Then who should visit me again but my old friend of the night before This time of course in a dream You did well last night to take my advice said he And if you would I should like to be with you often on the voyage For the love of adventure alone Finishing what he had to say he again doffed his cap And disappeared as mysteriously as he came Returning I suppose to the phantom pinter I awoke much refreshed and with the feeling that I had been in the presence of a friend And a seaman of vast experience I gathered up my clothes which by this time were dry Then by inspiration I threw overboard all the plums in the vessel July twenty eight was exceptionally fine The wind from the north west was light and the air barmy I overhauled my wardrobe and bent on a white shirt against nearing some coasting packet with gentile folk on board I also did some washing to get the salt out of my clothes After it all I was hungry so I made a fire and very cautiously stewed a dish of pears And set them carefully aside till I had made a pot of delicious coffee For both of which I could afford sugar and cream But the crowning dish of all was a fish-hash and there was enough of it for two I was in good health again and my appetite was simply ravenous While I was dining I had a large onion over the double lamp stewing for a luncheon later in the day High living today In the afternoon the spray came upon a large turtle asleep on the sea He awoke with my harpoon through his head if he awoke at all I had much difficulty in landing him on deck Which I finally accomplished by hooking the throat-halyards to one of his flippers For he was about as heavy as my boat I saw more turtles and I rigged a burton ready with which to hoist them in I was obliged to lower the mainsail whenever the halyards were used for such purpose And it was no small matter to hoist the large sail again But the turtle-steak was good, I found no fault with the cook And it was the rule of the voyage that the cook found no fault with me There was never a ship's crew so well agreed The bill of fare that evening was turtle-steak, tea and toast, fried potatoes, stewed onions A dessert of stewed pears and cream Some time in the afternoon I passed a barrel-boy adrift floating light on the water It was painted red and rigged with a signal-staff about six feet high A sudden change in the weather coming on I got no more turtle or fish of any sort before reaching port July 31 a gale sprang up suddenly from the north With heavy seas and eye-shortened sail Prey made only fifty-one miles on her course that day August the first the gale continued with heavy seas Through the night the sloop was reaching under close-reefed mainsail and bobbed jib At three p.m. the jib was washed off the bowsprit and blown to rags and ribbons I bent the jumbo on a stay at the night-heads as for the jib let it go I saved pieces of it and after all I was in want of pot rags On August 3 the gale broke and I saw many signs of land Bad weather having made itself felt in the galley I was minded to try my hand at a loaf of bread And so rigging a pot of fire on deck by which to bake it A loaf soon became an accomplished fact One great feature about ship's cooking is that one's appetite on the sea is always good A fact that I realised when I cooked for the crew of fishermen in the before-mentioned boyhood days Dinner being over I sat for hours reading the life of Columbus And as the day wore on I watched the birds all flying in one direction and said Land lies there Early the next morning August 4 I discovered Spain I saw fires on shore and knew that the country was inhabited The spray continued on her course till well in with the land Which was about that of Trafalgar Then keeping away a point she passed through the Strait of Gibraltar Where she cast anchor at 3pm of the same day Less than 29 days from Cape Sable At the finish of this preliminary trip I found myself in excellent health Not overworked or cramped As well as ever in my life though I was as thin as a reef-point To Italian barks which had been close alongside at daylight I saw long after I had anchored passing up the African side of the Strait The spray had sailed them both hull down before she reached Arifa So far as I know the spray beat everything going across the Atlantic except the steamers All was well but I had forgotten to bring a bill of health from Horta And so when the fierce old port doctor came to inspect there was a row That however was the very thing needed If you want to get on well with a true Britisher You must first have a juice of a row with him I knew that well enough and so I fired away shot for shot as best I could Well, yes, the doctor admitted at last Your crew are healthy enough no doubt But who knows the diseases of your last port? A reasonable enough remark We ought to put you in the fort, sir, he blusted But never mind, free pratik, sir, shove off coxswain And that was the last I saw of the port doctor But on the following morning a steam-launch much longer than the spray came alongside Or as much of her as could get alongside With compliments from the senior naval officer Admiral Bruce Saying there was a berth for the spray at the arsenal This was around at the new mole I had anchored at the old mole among the native craft Where it was rough and uncomfortable Of course I was glad to shift and did so as soon as possible Thinking of the great company the spray would be in among battleships Such as the Collingwood, Barfleur and Cormorant Which were at that time stationed there And on board all of which I was entertained later, most royally Put that there, as the Americans say Was the salute I got from Admiral Bruce When I called at the Admiralty to thank him for the courtesy of the berth And for the use of the steam-launch which towed me into dock About the berth, it is all right if it suits And will tow you out when you're ready to go But say, what repairs do you want? Ahoy the heeb, can you spare your sail-maker The spray wants a new jib Construction and repair there, will you see to the spray Say, old man, you must have knocked the devil out of her Coming over alone in twenty-nine days But we'll make it smooth for you here Not even Her Majesty's ship the Collingwood was better looked after Than the spray at Gibraltar Later in the day came the hail, spray ahoy! Mrs. Bruce would like to come on board and shake hands with the spray Will it be convenient today? Very, I joyfully shouted On the following day, Sir F. Carrington, at the time Governor of Gibraltar, with other high officers of the garrison And all the commanders of the battleships came on board And signed their names in the spray's logbook Again there was a hail Spray ahoy! Hello! Commander Reynolds compliments You are invited on board HMS Collingwood At home, at four thirty p.m. Not later than five thirty p.m. I had already hinted at the limited amount of my wardrobe And that I could never succeed as a dude You are expected, Sir, in a stove-pied hat and a claw-hammer coat Then I can't come Dash it! Come in what you have on That is what we mean Aye aye, Sir The Collingwood's cheer was good And had I worn a silk hat as high as the moon I could not have had a better time or been made more at home An Englishman, even on his great battleship Unbends when the stranger passes the gangway And when he says, at home, he means it That one should like Gibraltar would go without saying How could one help loving so hospitable a place Vegetables twice a week And milk every morning came from the palatial grounds of the Admiralty Spray ahoy! Would hail the Admiral Spray ahoy! Hello! Tomorrow is your vegetable day, Sir Aye aye, Sir I rambled much about the old city And a gunner piloted me through the galleries of the rock As far as a stranger is permitted to go There is no excavation in the world for military purposes At all approaching these of Gibraltar in conception or execution Viewing the stupendous works It became hard to realise That one was within the Gibraltar Of his little old Morse geography Before sailing I was invited on a picnic with the governor The officers of the garrison And the commanders of the warships at the station And a royal affair it was Torpedo boat number 91 going 22 knots Carried our party to the Morocco shore and back The day was perfect Too fine in fact for comfort on shore And so no one landed at Morocco The 91 trembled like an aspen leaf As you raced through the sea at top speed Sub-Left tenant Boucher Apparently a mere lad was in command And handled his ship with the skill of an older sailor On the following day I lunched with General Carrington The governor at Lime Wall House Which was once the Franciscan convent In this interesting edifice are preserved relics Of the 14 sieges which Gibraltar has seen On the next day I supped with the admiral At his residence the palace Which was once the convent of the mercenaries At each place and all about I felt the friendly grasp of a manly hand That lent me vital strength to pass In the coming days at sea I must confess that the perfect discipline Order and cheerfulness at Gibraltar Were only a second wonder in the great stronghold The vast amount of business going forward Caused me more excitement than the quiet sailing Of a well-appointed ship in a smooth sea No one spoke above his natural voice Save a Boson's mate now and then The honourable Horatio J. Sprague The venerable United States consulate Gibraltar Honoured the spray with a visit on Sunday, August 24 And was much pleased to find That our British cousins had been so kind to her End of Chapter 4 Recording by Alan Chant in Tumbridge, Kent, England www.sevenoaksprep.kent.sh.uk Chapter 5 of Sailing Alone Around the World This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Alan Chant Sailing Alone Around the World by Joshua Slokan Chapter 5 Consisting of Sailing from Gibraltar With the assistance of Her Majesty's tug The spray's course changed From the Suez Canal to Cape Horn Chased by a Moorish pirate A comparison with Columbus The Canary Islands The Cape Verde Islands Sea Life Arrival at Pernambuco A bill against the Brazilian government Preparing for the stormy weather of the Cape Monday, August 25 The spray sailed from Gibraltar Well repaid for whatever deviation she had made From a direct course to reach the place A tug belonging to Her Majesty Toed the sloop into this steady breeze Clear of the mount Where her sails caught a violent wind Which carried her once more to the Atlantic Where it rose rapidly to a furious gale My plan was, in going down this coast To haul offshore well clear of the land Which hereabouts is the home of pirates But I had hardly accomplished this When I perceived a falucha Making out of the nearest port And finally following in the wake of the spray Now my course to Gibraltar had been taken With a view to proceed up the Mediterranean Sea Through the Suez Canal, down the Red Sea And east about, instead of a western route Which I finally adopted Officers of vast experience in navigating these seas I was influenced to make the change Longshore pirates on both coasts being numerous I could not afford to make light of the advice But here I was, after all, evidently In the midst of pirates and thieves I changed my course The falucha did the same Both vessels sailing very fast But the distance growing less and less between us The spray was doing nobly She was even more than at her best But in spite of all I could do She would broach now and then She was carrying too much sail for safety I must reef, or be dismastered And lose all pirate or no pirate I must reef even if I had to grapple with him For my life. I was not long in reefing The mainsail and sweating it up Probably not more than fifteen minutes But the falucha had in the meantime So shortened the distance between us That I now saw the tuft of hair On the heads of the crew By which it is said Mohammed will pull the villains up to heaven And they were coming on like the wind From what I could clearly make out now I felt them to be the sons of generations of pirates And I saw by their movements That they were now preparing to strike a blow The exultation on their faces, however Was changed in an instant to a look of fear and rage Their craft with too much salon broached too On the crest of a great wave This one great sea changed the aspect of affairs Suddenly as the flash of a gun Three minutes later the same wave overtook the spray And shook her in every timber At the same moment the sheets dropped parted And away went the main boom broken short at the rigging Impulsively I sprang to the jib halyards and down-hall And instantly downed the jib The headsel being off and the helm put hard down The sloop came in the wind with a bound While shivering there, but a moment though it was I got the mainsail down and secured in-board Broken boom and all How I got the boom in before the sail was torn I hardly know, but not a stitch of it was broken The mainsail being secured I hoisted away the jib And without looking round stepped quickly to the cabin And snatched down my loaded rifle and cartridges at hand For I made mental calculations that the pirate would by this time Have recovered his course and be close aboard And that when I saw him it would be better for me To be looking at him along the barrel of a gun The piece was at my shoulder when I peered into the mist But there was no pirate within a mile The wave and school that carried away my boom Dismastered the falucha outright I perceived his thieving crew some dozen or more of them Struggling to recover their rigging from the sea Alla blackened their faces I sailed comfortably on under the jib and forestay sail Which I now set I fished the boom and furled the sail snug for the night Then hauled the sloop's head two points offshore To allow for the set of current And heavy rollers towards the land This gave me the wind three points on the starboard quarter And a steady pull in the headsails By the time I had things in this order it was dark And a flying fish had already fallen on deck I took him below for my supper And found myself too tired to cook Or even to eat a thing already prepared I do not remember to have been more tired before Or since in all my life than I was at the finish of that day Too fatigued to sleep I rolled about with the motion of the vessel until near midnight When I made shift to dress my fish and prepare a dish of tea I fully realised now, if I had not before That the voyage ahead would call for exertions, ardent and lasting On August 27 nothing could be seen of the moor Or his country either except two peaks Away in the east through the clear atmosphere of mourning Soon after the sun rose even these were obscured by haze Much to my satisfaction The wind, for a few days following my escape from the pirates Blew a steady but moderate gale And the sea, though agitated into long rollers Was not uncomfortably rough or dangerous And whilst sitting in my cabin I could hardly realise That any sea was running at all So easy was the long swinging motion of the sloop over the waves All distracting uneasiness and excitement being now over I was once more alone with myself In the realisation that I was on the mighty sea And in the hands of the elements But I was happy And was becoming more and more interested in the voyage Columbus in the Santa Maria sailing these seas More than four hundred years before was not so happy as I Nor so sure of success in what he had undertaken His first troubles at sea had already begun His crew had managed by foul play or otherwise To break the ship's rudder while running before probably Just such a gale as the spray had passed through And there was dissension on the Santa Maria Something that was unknown on the spray After three days of schools and shifting winds I threw myself down to rest and sleep While with helm lashed the sloop sailed steadily On her course September one in the early morning Land clouds rising ahead told of the Canary Islands Not far away A change in the weather came next day Storm clouds stretched their arms across the sky From the east to all appearances Might come a fierce harmattan Or from the south might come the fierce hurricane Every point of the compass threatened a wild storm My attention was turned to reefing sails And no time was to be lost over it either For the sea in a moment was confusion itself And I was glad to head the sloop three points or more Away from her true course That she might ride safely over the waves I was now scutting her for the channel between Africa And the island of Fuerteventura The easternmost of the Canary Islands For which I was on the lookout At two p.m. the weather becoming suddenly fine The island stood in view already a beam to starboard And not more than seven miles off Fuerteventura is 2700 feet high And in fine weather is visible many leagues away The wind freshened in the night And the spray had a fine run through the channel By daylight September three She was 25 miles clear of all the islands When a calm ensued Which was the precursor of another gale of wind That soon came on bringing with it dust from the African shore It howled dismally while it lasted And though it was not the season of the harmattan The sea in the course of an hour Was discoloured with a reddish brown dust The air remained thick with flying dust all the afternoon But the wind veering north-west at night Swept it back to land and afforded the spray Once more a clear sky Her mast now bent under a strong steady pressure And her bellying sail swept the sea As she rolled scuppers under curtsying to the waves These rolling waves thrilled me As they tossed my ship passing quickly under her keel This was grand sailing September four the wind still blew Fresh from the north-north-east And the sea surged along with the slew About noon a steamship, a bullock droga From the river plate hove in sight Steering north-east and making bad weather of it I signalled her but got no answer She was plunging into the head-sea And rolling in a most astonishing manner And from the way she yawed One might have said that a wild steer was at the helm On the morning of September six I found three flying fish on deck And a fourth one down the four-scuttle As close as possible to the frying-pan It was the best haul yet And afforded me a sumptuous breakfast and dinner The spray had now settled down to the trade winds And to the business of her voyage Later in the day another droga hove in sight Rolling as badly as her predecessor I threw out no flag to this one But got the worst of it for passing under her lee She was indeed a stale one And the poor cattle, how they bellowed The time was when ships passing one another at sea Backed their topsals and had a gam And on parting fired guns But those good old days have gone People have hardly time nowadays to speak Even on the broad ocean where news is news And as for a salute of guns They cannot afford the powder There are no poetry enshrined freighters on the sea now It is a prosy life where we have no time To bid one another good morning My ship running now in the full swing of the trades Left me days to myself for rest and recuperation I employed the time in reading and writing Or in whatever I found to do among the rigging And the sails to keep them all in order The cooking was always done quickly And was a small matter as the bill of fare Consisted mostly of flying fish, hot biscuits and butter Potatoes, coffee and cream Dishes readily prepared On September 10 the spray passed the island of St. Antonio The northwestern most of the Cape Verdes close aboard The landfill was wonderfully true Considering that no observations for longitude had been made The wind northeast as the sloop drew by The island was very squally But I reaved her sails snug And steered broad from the island of blustering St. Antonio Then, leaving the Cape Verde islands out of Citerstern I found myself once more sailing a lonely sea And in a solitude supreme all around When I slept I dreamed that I was alone This feeling never left me But sleeping or waking I seemed always to know the position of the sloop And I saw my vessel moving across the chart Which became a picture before me One night while I sat in the cabin under this spell The profound stillness all about was broken By human voices alongside I sprang instantly to the deck Startled beyond my power to tell Passing close under Lee like an apparition Was a white bark under full sail The sailors on board of her were hauling on ropes To brace the yards Which just cleared the sloop's mast as she swept by No one hailed from the white-winged flyer But I saw someone on board say that he saw lights on the sloop And that he made her out to be a fisherman I sat long on the starlit deck that night Thinking of ships and watching the constellations On their voyage On the following day, September 13 A large four-masted ship passed some distance To Windward heading north The sloop was now rapidly drawing towards The region of Doldrums And the force of the trade winds was lessening I could see by the ripples that a countercurrent Had set in This I estimated to be about 16 miles a day In the heart of the counter-stream The rate was more than that setting eastward September 14, a lofty masted ship Heading north was seen from the mast head Neither this ship nor the one yesterday Was within signal distance yet it was good Even to see them On the following day heavy rain-clouds Rows in the south obscuring the sun This was ominous of Doldrums On the 16th the spray entered this gloomy region To battle with squalls and to be harassed By fitful calms For this is the state of the elements Between the north-east and the south-east trades Where each wind struggling in turn for mastery Expends its force whirling about in all directions Making this still more trying to one's nerve and patience The sea was tossed into confused cross-lumps And fretted by eddy incurrence As if something more were needed To complete a sailor's discomfort in this state The rain poured down in torrents day and night The spray struggled and tossed for ten days Making only three hundred miles on her course in all that time I didn't say anything On September 23 The fine schooner-nantasket of Boston From Bear River for the River Plate Lumberladen and just through the Doldrums Came up with the spray And her captain passing a few words she sailed on Being much fouled on the bottom by shellfish She drew along with her fishes which had been following the spray Which was less provided with that sort of food Fishes will always follow a foul ship A barnacle-grown log adrift has the same attraction For deep-sea fishes One of this little school of deserters was a dolphin That had followed the spray about a thousand miles And had been content to eat scraps of food Thrown overboard from my table Therefore, having been wounded It could not dart through the sea to prey on other fishes I had become accustomed to seeing the dolphin Which I knew by its scars And missed it whenever it took occasional excursions Away from the sloop One day, after it had been off some hours It returned in company with three yellow-tails A sort of cousin to the dolphin This little school kept together Except when in danger and when foraging about the sea Their lives were often threatened by hungry sharks That came round the vessel And more than once they had narrow escapes Their mode of escape interested me greatly And I passed hours watching them They would dart away each in a different direction So that the wolf of the sea, the shark pursuing one Would be led away from the others And after a while they would all return and rendezvous Under one side or other of the sloop Twice their pursuers were diverted by a tin pan Which I towed a stern of the sloop And which was mistaken for a bright fish And while turning in their peculiar way That sharks have when about to devour their prey I shot them through the head Their precarious life seemed to concern the yellow-tails Very little, if at all All living things without doubt are afraid of death Nevertheless some of the species I saw huddled together As though they knew they were created for the larger fishes And wished to give the least possible trouble to their captors I have seen on the other hand Whales swimming in a circle around a school of herrings And with mighty exertion bunching them together In a whirlpool set in motion by their flukes And when the small fry were all whirled nicely together One or the other of the Leviathans Lunging through the centre with open jaws Taking in a boatload or so at a single mouthful Off the cape of good hope I saw schools of sardines or other small fish Being treated in this way by great numbers of cavalry fish There was not the slightest chance of escape for the sardines While the cavalry circled round and round Feeding from the edge of the mass It was interesting to note how rapidly the small fry disappeared And though it was repeated before my eyes over and over I could hardly perceive the capture of a single sardine So dexterously was it done Along the equatorial limit of the southeast trade winds The air was heavily charged with electricity And there was much thunder and lightning It was here about I remembered that a few years before The American ship Alert was destroyed by lightning Her people, by wonderful good fortune Were rescued on the same day And bought to Pernambuco where I then met them On September 25 in the latitude of 5 degrees north Longitude 26 degrees 30 minutes west I spoke the ship North Star of London The great ship was out 48 days from Norfolk, Virginia And was bound for Rio where we met again about two months later The spray was now 30 days from Gibraltar The spray's next companion of the voyage was a swordfish That swam alongside showing its tail fin out of the water Till I made a stir for my harpoon When it hauled its black flag down and disappeared September 30 at half past 11 in the morning The spray crossed the equator in longitude 29 degrees 30 minutes west At noon she was two miles south of the line The southeast trade winds met rather light in about 4 degrees north Gave her sails now a stiff full breeze Sending her handsomely over the sea towards the coast of Brazil Where on October 5 just north of Olinda Point Without further incident she made the land Casting anchor in Pernambuco harbour about noon 40 days from Gibraltar and all well on board Did I tire of the voyage in all that time? Not a bit of it. I was never in better trim in all my life And was eager for the more perilous experience of It was not at all strange and a life common to sailors That having already crossed the Atlantic twice And being now half way from Boston to the horn I should find myself still among friends My determination to sail westward from Gibraltar Not only enabled me to escape the pirates of the Red Sea But in bringing me to Pernambuco landed me on familiar shores I had made many voyages to this and other ports in Brazil In 1893 I was employed as master to take the famous Erickson ship destroyer from New York to Brazil To go against the rebel mellow and his party The destroyer by the way carried a submarine cannon Of enormous length In the same expedition went the Nicaroy The ship purchased by the United States government During the Spanish war and renamed the Buffalo The destroyer was in many ways the better ship of the two But the Brazilians in their curious war Sanker themselves at Bahia With her sank my hope of recovering wages due me Still I could but try to recover For to me it meant a great deal But now within two years the whirly gig of time Had brought the mellow party into power And although it was the legal government which had employed me The so-called rebels felt under less obligation to me Than I could have wished During these visits to Brazil I had made the acquaintance of Dr. Pereira Owner and editor of El Comercio Journal And soon after the spray was safely moored In upper Topsil reach The doctor who is a very enthusiastic yachtsman Came to pay me a visit And to carry me up the waterway of the lagoon to his country residence The approach to his mansion by the water side Was guarded by his armada A fleet of boats including a Chinese sampan A Norwegian pram And a cape and dory The last of which he obtained from the destroyer The doctor dined me often on good Brazilian fare That I might as he said Sale gordo for the voyage But he found that even on the best I fattened slowly Fruits and vegetables and all other provisions Necessary for the voyage Having been taken in On the 23rd of October I unmoored And made ready for sea Here I encountered one of the Unforgiving mellow faction in the person Of the collector of customs Who charged the spray tonnage juice when she cleared Notwithstanding that she sailed with a yacht licence And should have been exempt from port charges Our consul reminded the collector of this And of the fact, without much diplomacy I thought, that it was I Who bought the destroyer to Brazil Oh yes, said the bland collector We remember it very well For it was now in a small way his turn Mr. Lundgren, a merchant To help me out of the trifling difficulty Offered to freight the spray with a cargo Of gunpowder for Bahia Which would have put me in funds And when the insurance companies refused To take the risk on cargo shipped On a vessel manned by a crew of only one He offered to ship it without insurance Taking all the risk himself This was perhaps paying me A greater compliment than I deserved The reason why I did not accept the business Was that in so doing I found That I should vitiate my yacht licence And run into more expense for harbour dues Around the world than the freight would amount to Instead of all this Another old merchant friend came to my assistance Advancing the cash direct While at Pernambuco I shortened the boom which had been broken off When off the coast of Morocco By removing the broken piece Which took about four feet off the inboard end I also refitted the jaws On October 24, 1895 A fine day even as days go in Brazil The spray sailed having had abundant good cheer Making about 100 miles a day along the coast I arrived at Rio de Janeiro November 5 Without any event worth mentioning And about noon cast anchor near Villa Ganon To await the official port visit On the following day I bestowed myself to meet The highest lord of the Admiralty and the ministers To inquire concerning the matter of wages due me From the beloved destroyer The high official I met said Captain, so far as we are concerned You may have the ship And if you are to accept her We will send an officer to show you where she is I knew well enough where she was at that moment The top of her smokestack being a wash in Bahia It was more than likely that she rested on the bottom there I thanked the kind officer But declined his offer The spray with a number of old shipmasters on board Sailed about the harbour of Rio the day Before she put to sea As I had decided to give the spray a yule rig For the tempestuous waters of Patagonia I here placed on the stern a semi-circular brace To support a gigamast These old captains inspected the spray's rigging And each one contributed something to her outfit Captain Jones, who had acted as my interpreter At Rio, gave her an anchor And one of the steamers gave her a cable to match it She never dragged Jones' anchor once on the voyage And the cable not only took the strain on a lee shore But when towed off Cape Horn Helped break Coming Caesar's stern That threatened to board her End of chapter 5 Recording by Alan Chant in Tumbridge, Kent, England www.7oaksprep.kent.sh.uk