The Sea: Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism (Vol. 1-4). Frederick Whymper
“Vale of Paradise”—was probably named by the early Spanish adventurers in this glowing style because any coast whatever is delightful to the mariner who has been long at sea. Otherwise, the title would seem to be of an exaggerated nature. The bay is of a semi-circular form, surrounded by steep hills, rising to the height of near 2,000 feet, sparingly covered with stunted shrubs and thinly-strewed grass. The town is built along a narrow strip of land, between the cliffs and the sea; and, as this space is limited in extent, the buildings have straggled up the sides and bottoms of the numerous ravines which intersect the hills. A suburb—the Almendral, or Almond Grove—much larger than the town proper, spreads over a low sandy plain, about half a mile broad, bordering the bay. In the summer months—i.e., November to March—the anchorage is safe and pleasant; but in the wintry months, notably June and July, gales are prevalent from the north, in which direction it is open to the sea.
THE PORT OF VALPARAISO.
Captain Basil Hall, R.N., gave some interesting accounts of life in Chili in his published Journal,110 and they are substantially true at the present day. He reached Valparaiso at Christmas, which corresponds in climate to our midsummer. Crowds thronged the streets to enjoy the cool air in the moonlight; groups of merry dancers were seen at every turn; singers were bawling out old Spanish romances to the tinkle of the guitar; wild-looking horsemen pranced about in all directions, stopping to talk with their friends, but never dismounting; and harmless bull-fights, in which the bulls were only teased, not killed, served to make the people laugh. The whole town was en carnival. “In the course of the first evening of these festivities,” says Captain Hall, “while I was rambling about the streets with one of the officers of the ship, our attention was attracted, by the sound of music, to a crowded pulperia, or drinking-house. We accordingly entered, and the people immediately made way and gave us seats at the upper end of the apartment. We had not sat long before we were startled by the loud clatter of horses’ feet, and in the next instant, a mounted peasant dashed into the company, followed by another horseman, who, as soon as he reached the centre of the room, adroitly wheeled his horse round, and the two strangers remained side by side, with their horses’ heads in opposite directions. Neither the people of the house, nor the guests, nor the musicians, appeared in the least surprised by this visit; the lady who was playing the harp merely stopped for a moment to remove the end of the instrument a few inches further from the horses’ feet, and the music and conversation went on as before. The visitors called for a glass of spirits, and having chatted with their friends around them for two minutes, stooped their heads to avoid the cross-piece of the doorway, and putting spurs to their horses’ sides, shot into the streets as rapidly as they had entered; the whole being done without discomposing the company in the smallest degree.” The same writer speaks of the common people as generally very temperate, while their frankness and hospitality charmed him. Brick-makers, day-labourers, and washerwomen invited him and friends into their homes, and their first anxiety was that the sailors might “feel themselves in their own house;” then some offering of milk, bread, or spirits. However wretched the cottage or poor the fare, the deficiency was never made more apparent by apologies; with untaught politeness, the best they had was placed before them, graced with a hearty welcome. Their houses are of adobes, i.e., sun-dried bricks, thatched in with broad palm-leaves, the ends of which, by overhanging the walls, afford shade from the scorching sun and shelter from the rain. Their mud floors have a portion raised seven or eight inches above the level of the rest, and covered with matting, which forms the couch for the invariable siesta. In the cottages Hall saw young women grinding baked corn in almost Scriptural mills of two stones each. From the coarse flour obtained, the poor people make a drink called ulpa. In the better class of houses he was offered Paraguay tea, or mattee, an infusion of a South American herb. The natives drink it almost boiling hot. It is drawn up into the mouth through a silver pipe: however numerous the company, all use the same tube, and to decline on this account is thought the height of rudeness. The people of Chili, generally, are polite to a degree; and Jack ashore will have no cause to complain, provided he is as polished as are they. He generally contrives, however, to make himself popular, while his little escapades of wildness are looked upon in the light of long pent-up nature bursting forth.
CHAPTER XI.
Round the World on a Man-of-War (continued).
FROM THE HORN TO HALIFAX.
The dreaded Horn—The Land of Fire—Basil Hall’s Phenomenon—A Missing Volcano—The South American Station—Falkland Islands—A Free Port and Naval Station—Penguins, Peat, and Kelp—Sea Trees—The West India Station—Trinidad—Columbus’s First View of it—Fatal Gold—Charles Kingsley’s Enthusiasm—The Port of Spain—A Happy-go-lucky People—Negro Life—Letters from a Cottage Ornée—Tropical Vegetation—Animal Life—Jamaica—Kingston Harbour—Sugar Cultivation—The Queen of the Antilles—Its Paseo—Beauty of the Archipelago—A Dutch Settlement in the Heart of a Volcano—Among the Islands—The Souffrière—Historical Reminiscences—Bermuda: Colony, Fortress, and Prison—Home of Ariel and Caliban—The Whitest Place in the World—Bermuda Convicts—New York Harbour—The City—First Impressions—Its fine Position—Splendid Harbour—Forest of Masts—The Ferry-boats, Hotels, and Bars—Offenbach’s Impressions—Broadway, Fulton Market, and Central Park—New York in Winter—Frozen Ships—The great Brooklyn Bridge—Halifax and its Beauties—Importance of the Station—Bedford Basin—The Early Settlers—The Blue Noses—Adieu to America.
And now the exigencies of the service require us to tear ourselves away from gay and pleasant Valparaiso, and voyage in spirit round the Horn to the South-East American Station, which includes the whole coast, from Terra del Fuego to Brazil and Guiana. Friendly ports, Rio and Montevideo, are open to the Royal Navy as stations for necessary repairs or supplies; but the only strictly British port on the whole station is that at the dreary Falkland Islands, to be shortly described.
Every schoolboy knows that Cape Horn is even more dreaded than the other “Cape of Storms,” otherwise known as “The Cape,” par excellence. In these days, the introduction of steam has reduced much of the danger and horrors of the passage round, though on occasions they are sufficiently serious. In fact, now that there is a regular tug-boat service in the Straits of Magellan, there is really no occasion to go round it at all. In 1862 the writer rounded it, in a steamer of good power, when the water was as still as a mill-pond, and the Horn itself—a barren, black, craggy, precipitous rock, towering above the utter desolation and bleakest solitudes of that forsaken spot—was plainly in sight.
Captain Basil Hall, and his officers and crew, in 1820, when rounding Cape Horn observed a remarkable phenomenon, which may account for the title of the “Land of Fire” bestowed upon it by Magellan. A brilliant light suddenly appeared in the north-western quarter. “At first of a bright red, it became fainter and fainter, till it disappeared altogether. After the lapse of four or five minutes, its brilliancy was suddenly restored, and it seemed as if a column of burning materials had been projected into the air. This bright appearance lasted from ten to twenty seconds, fading by degrees as the column became lower, till at length only a dull red mass was distinguishable for about a minute, after which it again vanished.” The sailors thought it a revolving light, others that it must be a forest on fire. All who examined it carefully through a telescope agreed in considering it a volcano, like Stromboli, emitting alternately jets of flame and red-hot stones. The light was visible till morning; and although during the night it appeared to be not more than eight or ten miles off, no land was to be seen. The present writer would suggest the probability of its having been an electrical phenomenon.
CAPE HORN.
The naval station at the Falklands is at Port Stanley, on the eastern