And now the cruise of the good old whaling barque CACHALOT, as far as whaling is concerned, comes to an end.For all practical purposes she becomes a humdrum merchantman in haste to reach her final port of discharge, and get rid of her cargo.No more will she loiter and pry around anything and everything, from an island to a balk of drift-wood, that comes in her way, knowing not the meaning of "waste of time." The "crow's-nests" are dismantled, taut topgallant-masts sent up, and royal yards crossed.As soon as we get to sea we shall turn-to and heave that ancient fabric of bricks and mortar--always a queer-looking erection to be cumbering a ship's deck--piecemeal over the side.It has long been shaky and weather-beaten; it will soon obstruct our movements no more.Our rigging has all been set up and tarred down; we have painted hull and spars, and scraped wherever the wood-work is kept bright.All gear belonging to whaling has been taken out of the boats, carefully cleaned, oiled, and stowed away for a "full due." Two of the boats have been taken inboard, and stowed bottom-up upon the gallows aft, as any other merchantman carries them.At last, our multifarious preparations completed, we ride ready for sea.
It was quite in accordance with the fitness of things that, when all things were now ready for our departure, there should come a change of wind that threatened to hold us prisoners for some days longer.But our "old man" was hard to beat, and he reckoned that, if we could only get out of the "pond," he would work her across to the Bluff somehow or other.So we ran out a kedge with a couple of lines to it, and warped her out of the weather side of the harbour, finding, when at last we got her clear, that she would lay her course across the Straits to clear Ruapuke--nearly;but the current had to be reckoned with.Before we reached that obstructing island we were down at the eastern end of it, and obliged to anchor promptly to save ourselves from being swept down the coast many miles to leeward of our port.
But the skipper was quite equal to the occasion.Ordering his boat, he sped away into Bluff harbour, only a matter of six or seven miles, returning soon with a tug, who for a pound or two placed us, without further trouble, alongside the wharf, amongst some magnificent clipper ships of Messrs.Henderson's and the New Zealand Shipping Co.'s, who seemed to turn up their splendid noses at the squat, dumpy, antiquated old serving-mallet that dared to mingle with so august a crowd.There had been a time, not so very far back, when I should have shared their apparent contempt for our homely old tub; but my voyage had taught me, among other things, that, as far as true comfort went at sea, not a "three-skysail-yarder" among them could compare with the CACHALOT.And I was extremely glad that my passage round the Horn was to be in my own ship, and not in a long, snaky tank that, in the language of the sailor, takes a header when she gets outside the harbour, and only comes up two or three times to blow before she gets home.
Our only reason for visiting this place being to discharge Captain Count's oil, and procure a sea-stock of salt provisions and hard bread, these duties were taken in hand at once.The skipper sold his venture of oil to good advantage, being so pleased with his success that he gave us all a good feed on the strength of it.
As soon as the stores were embarked and everything ready for sea, leave was given to all hands for twenty-four hours, upon the distinct understanding that the privilege was not to be abused, to the detriment of everybody, who, as might be supposed, were anxious to start for home.In order that there might be less temptation to go on the spree generally, a grand picnic was organized to a beautiful valley some distance from the town.
Carriages were chartered, an enormous quantity of eatables and drinkables provided, and away we went, a regular wayzgoose or bean-feast party.It was such a huge success, that I have ever since wondered why such outings cannot become usual among sailors on liberty abroad, instead of the senseless, vicious waste of health, time, and hard-earned wages which is general.But I must not let myself loose upon this theme again, or we shall never get to sea.
Liberty over without any trouble arising, and all hands comfortably on board again, the news ran round that we were to sail in the morning.So, after a good night's rest, we cast loose from the wharf, and, with a little assistance from the same useful tug that brought us in, got fairly out to sea.All sail was set to a strong, steady north-wester, and with yards canted the least bit in the world on the port tack, so that every stitch was drawing, we began our long easterly stretch to the Horn, homeward bound at last.
Favoured by wind and weather, we made an average run of one hundred and eighty miles per day for many days, paying no attention to "great circle sailing," since in such a slow ship the net gain to be secured by going to a high latitude was very small, but dodging comfortably along on about the parallel of 48deg.S., until it became necessary to draw down towards "Cape Stiff," as that dreaded extremity of South America, Cape Horn, is familiarly called by seamen.As we did so, icebergs became numerous, at one time over seventy being in sight at once.Some of them were of immense size--one, indeed, that could hardly be fitly described as an iceberg, but more properly an ice-field, with many bergs rising out of it, being over sixty miles long, while some of its towering peaks were estimated at from five hundred to one thousand feet high.Happily, the weather kept clear; for icebergs and fog make a combination truly appalling to the sailor, especially if there be much wind blowing.
