I did not wish to remain at Bahia one moment longer than was necessary; but I thought it would be well, as we were here, to fill up our water-tanks. But it happened to be another fiesta this day—bells and crackers again!—and the water-boat could not come off. So we had to wait till the following day, January 21, when the water was put on board of us, and in the afternoon we got underway.
XIX
Hove To
It was blowing hard on the day of our departure from Bahia, and we sailed down the bay under mizzen and head sails, so as to see what it was like outside before hoisting our mainsail.
A high sea was running on the bar, and while the yacht was tumbling about in the broken water, an accident happened to Wright. He was preparing our tea, when a lurch of the vessel capsized a kettle of boiling water, the whole contents of which poured over his hands and wrists, scalding them severely, and causing intense pain; so that we had to administer a strong sleeping draught to the poor fellow, after the usual remedies had been applied to the scalded parts. He was on the sick list for a long time, and was, of course, incapable of doing work of any description during this voyage; though, as soon as he got a bit better, it worried him to think that he was of no use, and he insisted, though his hands were bandaged up, in trying to steer with his arms.
This accident made us still more short-handed. There were but three of us left to work the vessel. Luckily, I had one good man with me, in the person of Ted Milner, who not only did the cooking, but worked hard on deck during my watch as well as on the other, and was very cheery over it all the while, too.
When we were outside, we took two reefs down in the mainsail before hoisting it, and close-reefed the foresail, for it was evident that we were in for a spell of squally weather.
We had better luck now than during our previous attempt at reaching Trinidad, for the wind, instead of being right ahead from the southeast, kept shifting backwards and forwards between north and east, so that we could always lay our course on the port tack, and could often do so with our sheets well off. But the wind was squally and uncertain, and for much of the time the sea was rough, so that we were eight days in reaching the island.
At dawn on January 29, we sighted Trinidad, right ahead, and in the afternoon we were about two miles off, opposite to the Ninepin rock. It was blowing hard from the eastward, and the sea was, I think, running higher than on any occasion since we left Southampton. The surf on the island was far heavier than we had ever seen it before, and was breaking on every portion of the coast with great fury.
We now ran before the wind towards Southwest Bay, and the squalls that occasionally swept down the ravines were so fierce that we sailed with foresail down and the tack of our reefed mainsail triced well up. We saw that the seas were dashing completely over the pier, and sending great fountains of spray high into the air. When we opened out Southwest Bay the scene before us was terribly grand. Huge green rollers, with plumes of snowy spray, were breaking on the sandy beach; and the waves were dashing up the sides of Noah’s Ark, and the Sugarloaf to an immense height, the cliffs being wet with spray quite 200 feet up. The loud roaring of the seas was echoed by the mountains, and the frequent squalls whistled and howled frightfully among the crags, so that even the wild seabirds were alarmed at the commotion of the elements: for they had risen in multitudes from all the rocks around the bay, and were flying hither and thither in a scared fashion, while their melancholy cries added to the weirdness of the general effect.
And once more we saw before us, high above the sea-foam, our little camp, with its three tents, and the whaleboat hauled up on the sands not far off, with its white canvas cover stretched over it; but we were surprised to see no men about: the camp appeared to be deserted.
It was, obviously, impossible for the shore-party to launch the boat with so high a sea running, neither could we approach within signalling distance of the beach; so that there was no chance of our being able to communicate with our friends for the present. I also saw that it would be highly imprudent, if not impossible, to come to an anchor off the cascade with the yacht. There was to be no harbour for us just yet, and the only thing to be done was to put to sea and heave to until the weather improved.
We did not anticipate that we should have to wait long for this improvement; but, as it turned out, we had to remain hove to for eight days, before the state of the sea permitted the boat to come off to us, during which time the bananas, pumpkins, and other luxuries of the sort, which we had brought from Bahia for the working-party, began to spoil, and we had
