We soon discovered that it was much better in every way for the yacht to be hove to than to be lying at anchor off Trinidad. To strain at her chain in an ocean swell must be injurious even to such a strong vessel as the Alerte is; and, as I have said, we did pull one hawsepipe nearly out of her on the occasion that the chain got foul of the rocks at the bottom, thus giving her a short nip. Even in fine weather we experienced a lot of wear and tear; for the yacht used to swing first in one direction, then in another, as the various flaws of wind struck her, so that the chain was constantly getting round her stem, and we found that a large piece of her copper had been worn away in this manner, just below the waterline.
Had I fully realised before the great advantages of heaving to, I do not think I should have ever let go my anchor at all here; but, in that case, I should have been compelled to remain on board all the while, and would not have had my fortnight’s stay in camp. To remain hove to off this lee side of the island is a very easy matter. Our method was to sail out to sea from Southwest Bay until we had got out of the baffling local squalls into the steady breeze, and then we hove to under reefed mainsail, small jib with sheet to windward, and helm lashed. The yacht then looked after herself; and, as the wind was always more or less off shore and the current was setting to the south, she would drift away about twelve miles in the night towards the open sea, always remaining right opposite our bay, so that those on shore could see us at daybreak. We divided ourselves into three watches at night, one man being sufficient for a watch, for he never had anything to do but lookout for the passing vessels. Hove to as we were under such short canvas the fiercest squall we ever encountered had no effect on the vessel, and she was in every way very comfortable.
In the morning we would hoist the foresail and tack towards Southwest Bay, so as to attempt communication with the shore; if that were impossible, we hove to once more, to drift slowly seawards; and we repeated this process several times in the course of a day, before we finally sailed out for our night’s rest on the bosom of the ocean.
We could sail into Southwest Bay until we were abreast of the Sugarloaf, but no further; we were then at least a mile and a quarter from the camp, and it was difficult to read the signals of the shore-party at that distance, as the flags they had with them were of a small size.
To have approached nearer than this would have been a very risky proceeding; for, though we might have succeeded in getting some way further in, and out again, with safety, time after time, the day would most assuredly have come when a serious accident would have happened. For, as soon as the yacht had sailed across the line connecting the two extreme points of the bay, the high cliffs diverted the wind so that it was only felt occasionally, and then in short squalls, from various directions; and between those baffling squalls were long spells of calm, during which the vessel would drift helplessly before the swell towards the surf under the cliffs, or would be carried by the southerly current towards the lava reefs off South Point, in both cases at imminent risk of destruction. And even when the squalls did come down to render assistance, they shifted so suddenly that the sails were taken aback two or three times in as many minutes, so that all way was lost, or even stern way was got on the vessel, and one lost control over her at a critical moment.
The Alerte sailed into that bay a great many times without mishap; but there were anxious moments now and then, and I was always glad to escape out of this treacherous trap to the open sea, clear of the rocks and squalls, with deep water round, and a comparatively steady wind to help me.
We remained thus, standing off and on, and hove to, during the rest of our stay at Trinidad. Our anchor was never let go here again. We had been lucky with our weather when we first arrived at the island, and had successively landed our working-party and stores, and our whaleboat had been beached in Southwest Bay a good many times, without serious accident, though very seldom without risk. But now all this was changed. High seas and squally weather were the rule during the eighteen days we remained hove to: for the first eight days, as I have said, we were unable to hold communication with the shore; and, after that, there were but few occasions on which we could beach the boat, and then this feat was generally attended with a capsize, loss of property, and risk of life. But, fortunately, as will be seen, the two days preceding our final departure from the islet were fine, and we were thus enabled to carry off our tents and other stores. Had it not been for this short spell of calm, we should have probably been compelled to leave behind everything we possessed.
The fine season here is in the southern summer—our winter. In winter—especially in the months of June, July, and August—landing on Trinidad is almost always impossible. Strong winds and heavy rains then prevail, while the seas run
