A Woman's Journey Round the World. Ida Pfeiffer
be secured neither by nets or hooks; but sometimes the wind will drive them, during the night, upon the deck, where they are discovered, in the morning, dead, not having sufficient strength to raise themselves from dry places; in this way I obtained a few specimens.
Today, August 15th, we enjoyed a most interesting sight. We happened, exactly at 12 o’clock, to be in the sun’s zenith, and the sunbeams fell so perpendicularly that every object was perfectly shadowless. We put books, chairs, ourselves in the sun, and were highly delighted with this unusual kind of amusement. Luckily we had chanced to be at the right spot at the right time; had we, at the same hour, been only one degree nearer or one degree further, we should have lost the entire sight; when we saw it we were 14° 6’ (a minute is equal to a nautical mile).
All observations with the sextant {9} were out of the question until we were once more some degrees from the zenith.
17th August. Shoals of tunny-fish, (fish four and five feet long, and belonging to the dolphin tribe,) were seen tumbling about the ship. A harpoon was quickly procured, and one of the sailors sent out with it on the bowsprit; but whether he had bad luck, or was unskilled in the art of harpooning, he missed his mark. The most wonderful part of the story, though, was that all the fish disappeared as if by magic, and did not appear again for some days; it seemed as if they had whispered and warned each other of the threatened danger.
All the oftener, however, did we see another inhabitant of the sea, namely, that beautiful mollusca, the physolida, called by the sailors Portugiesisches Segel-schiff; (Portuguese sailing-ship.) When floating upon the surface of the sea, with its long crest, which it can elevate or depress at pleasure, it really resembles a delicate tiny little sailing vessel. I was very desirous of catching one of these little creatures, but this could only be effected by means of a net, which I had not got, nor had I either needle or twine to make one. Necessity, however, is the mother of invention; so I manufactured a knitting needle of wood, unravelled some thick string, and in a few hours possessed a net. Very soon afterwards a mollusca had been captured, and placed in a tub filled with sea water. The little creature’s body is about six inches long and two inches high; the crest extends over the whole of the back, and in the middle, where it is highest, measures about an inch and a half. Both the crest and body are transparent, and appear as if tinged with rose colour; from the belly, which is violet, are suspended a number of threads or arms of the same colour.
I hung the little thing up to dry at the stern, outside the ship; some of the threads reached down into the water (a depth of at least twelve feet), but most of them fell off. After the animal was dead, the crest remained erect, and the body perfectly filled out, but the beautiful rose colour gradually changed to white.
18th August. Today we had a heavy thunder-storm, for which we were very grateful, as it cooled the air considerably. Between 1° and 2°, or 3° North latitude, frequent changes in the weather are very common. For instance, on the morning of the 20th we were overtaken by a strong wind, which lashed up the sea to a great height, and continued until evening, when it gave way to a tropical shower, which we at home should call a perfect water-spout. The deck was instantaneously transformed into a lake, while at the same time the wind had so completely fallen that even the rudder enjoyed a holiday.
This rain cost me a night’s rest, for when I went to take possession of my berth, I found the bed-clothes drenched through and through, and was fain to content myself with a wooden bench for a couch.
On the 27th of August we got beyond these hostile latitudes, and were received by the anxiously desired south-east trade wind, which hurried us quickly on our voyage.
We were now very near the Equator, and, like all other travellers, wished very much to see the celebrated constellations of the south. I myself was most interested in the Southern Cross; and, as I could not find it among the stars, I begged the captain to point it out to me. Both he and the first mate, however, said that they had never heard of it, and the second mate was the only one to whom it did not appear entirely unknown. With his help, we really did discover in the spangled firmament four stars, which had something of the form of a somewhat crooked cross, but were certainly not remarkable in themselves, nor did they excite the least enthusiasm amongst us. A most magnificent spectacle was, on the contrary, formed by Orion, Jupiter, and Venus; the latter, indeed, shone so brilliantly that her gleams formed a silver furrow across the waves.
The great frequency of falling stars is another fact that I cannot corroborate. They are, perhaps, more frequent than in cold climates, but are far from being as common as is said: and as for their size, I saw only one which surpassed ours; and this appeared about three times as large as an ordinary star.
For some days also we had now seen the Cape, or Magellan’s Clouds, and also the so-called Black Cloud. The first are bright, and, like the Milky Way, are formed of numberless small stars, invisible to the naked eye; the latter presents a black appearance, and is said to be produced by the absence of all stars whatever from this part of the heavens.
All these different signs prepared us for the most interesting moment of our voyage—namely, passing the line.
On the 29th of August, at 10 o’clock P.M., we saluted the southern hemisphere for the first time. A feeling nearly allied to pride excited every one, but more especially those who crossed the line for the first time. We shook each other by the hand, and congratulated one another mutually, as if we had done some great and heroic deed. One of the passengers had brought with him a bottle or two of champagne to celebrate the event: the corks sprang gaily in the air, and with a joyful “huzza,” the health of the new hemisphere was drunk.
No festivities took place among the crew. This is at present the case in most vessels, as such amusements seldom end without drunkenness and disorder. The sailors, however, could not let the cabin-boy, who passed the line for the first time, go quite scot-free; so he was well christened in a few buckets of salt water.
Long before passing the line, we passengers had frequently spoken of all the sufferings and tortures we should be subjected to at the Equator. Every one had read or heard something exceedingly horrible, which he duly communicated to all the rest. One expected headache or colic; a second had pictured to himself the sailors falling down from exhaustion; a third dreaded such a fearful degree of heat, that it would not only melt the pitch, {11} but would so dry up the ship, that nothing but continual throwing water over it could prevent its catching fire; while a fourth feared that all the provisions would be spoilt, and ourselves nearly starved to death.
For my own part, I had already congratulated myself on the tragical stories I should be able to present to my readers; I beheld them shedding tears at the narration of the sufferings we had experienced, and I already appeared to myself half a martyr. Alas! I was sadly deceived. We all remained in perfectly good health; not a sailor sank exhausted; the ship did not catch fire; and the provisions were not spoilt—they were just as bad as before.
3rd September. From 2° to 3° South latitude the wind is very irregular, and frequently excessively violent. Today we passed the 8° South latitude, without seeing land, which put the captain in the best of humours. He explained to us, that if we had seen land, we should have been obliged to retrace our course almost to the line, because the current sets in with such violence towards the land, that the voyage could only be made at a proper distance.
7th September. Between 10° and 20° South latitude we again met with very peculiar prevalent winds. They are called vamperos; and oblige the sailor to be always on his guard, as they spring up very suddenly, and are often extremely violent. We were overtaken by one during the night, but, luckily, it was not of the worst kind. In a few hours it had entirely passed over, but the sea did not become calm again for a considerable time.
On the 9th and 11th of September, we encountered some short gusts of the vamperos, the most violent being the last.
12th and 13th of September. The first was termed by the captain merely “a stiffish breeze;” but the second was entered in the log {12} as “a storm.” The stiffish breeze cost us one sail; the storm, two. During the time it lasted, the sea ran so high, that it was with the greatest difficulty we could