Chapter 14

The _Jane Guy_ was a fine-looking topsail schooner of a hundred
and eighty tons burden. She was unusually sharp in the bows, and
on a wind, in moderate weather, the fastest sailer I have ever
seen. Her qualities, however, as a rough sea-boat, were not so
good, and her draught of water was by far too great for the trade
to which she was destined. For this peculiar service, a larger
vessel, and one of a light proportionate draught, is
desirable—say a vessel of from three hundred to three hundred and
fifty tons. She should be bark-rigged, and in other respects of a
different construction from the usual South Sea ships. It is
absolutely necessary that she should be well armed. She should
have, say ten or twelve twelve-pound carronades, and two or three
long twelves, with brass blunderbusses, and water-tight
arm-chests for each top. Her anchors and cables should be of far
greater strength than is required for any other species of trade,
and, above all, her crew should be numerous and efficient—not
less, for such a vessel as I have described, than fifty or sixty
able-bodied men. The Jane Guy had a crew of thirty-five, all able
seamen, besides the captain and mate, but she was not altogether
as well armed or otherwise equipped, as a navigator acquainted
with the difficulties and dangers of the trade could have
desired.

Captain Guy was a gentleman of great urbanity of manner, and of
considerable experience in the southern traffic, to which he had
devoted a great portion of his life. He was deficient, however,
in energy, and, consequently, in that spirit of enterprise which
is here so absolutely requisite. He was part owner of the vessel
in which he sailed, and was invested with discretionary powers to
cruise in the South Seas for any cargo which might come most
readily to hand. He had on board, as usual in such voyages,
beads, looking-glasses, tinder-works, axes, hatchets, saws,
adzes, planes, chisels, gouges, gimlets, files, spokeshaves,
rasps, hammers, nails, knives, scissors, razors, needles, thread,
crockery-ware, calico, trinkets, and other similar articles.

The schooner sailed from Liverpool on the tenth of July, crossed
the Tropic of Cancer on the twenty-fifth, in longitude twenty
degrees west, and reached Sal, one of the Cape Verd islands, on
the twenty-ninth, where she took in salt and other necessaries
for the voyage. On the third of August, she left the Cape Verds
and steered southwest, stretching over toward the coast of
Brazil, so as to cross the equator between the meridians of
twenty-eight and thirty degrees west longitude. This is the
course usually taken by vessels bound from Europe to the Cape of
Good Hope, or by that route to the East Indies. By proceeding
thus they avoid the calms and strong contrary currents which
continually prevail on the coast of Guinea, while, in the end, it
is found to be the shortest track, as westerly winds are never
wanting afterward by which to reach the Cape. It was Captain
Guy’s intention to make his first stoppage at Kerguelen’s Land—I
hardly know for what reason. On the day we were picked up the
schooner was off Cape St. Roque, in longitude thirty-one degrees
west; so that, when found, we had drifted probably, from north to
south, _not less than five-and-twenty degrees!_

On board the Jane Guy we were treated with all the kindness our
distressed situation demanded. In about a fortnight, during which
time we continued steering to the southeast, with gentle breezes
and fine weather, both Peters and myself recovered entirely from
the effects of our late privation and dreadful sufferings, and we
began to remember what had passed rather as a frightful dream
from which we had been happily awakened, than as events which had
taken place in sober and naked reality. I have since found that
this species of partial oblivion is usually brought about by
sudden transition, whether from joy to sorrow or from sorrow to
joy—the degree of forgetfulness being proportioned to the degree
of difference in the exchange. Thus, in my own case, I now feel
it impossible to realize the full extent of the misery which I
endured during the days spent upon the hulk. The incidents are
remembered, but not the feelings which the incidents elicited at
the time of their occurrence. I only know, that when they did
occur, I then thought human nature could sustain nothing more of
agony.

We continued our voyage for some weeks without any incidents of
greater moment than the occasional meeting with whaling-ships,
and more frequently with the black or right whale, so called in
contradistinction to the spermaceti. These, however, were chiefly
found south of the twenty-fifth parallel. On the sixteenth of
September, being in the vicinity of the Cape of Good Hope, the
schooner encountered her first gale of any violence since leaving
Liverpool. In this neighborhood, but more frequently to the south
and east of the promontory (we were to the westward), navigators
have often to contend with storms from the northward, which rage
with great fury. They always bring with them a heavy sea, and one
of their most dangerous features is the instantaneous chopping
round of the wind, an occurrence almost certain to take place
during the greatest force of the gale. A perfect hurricane will
be blowing at one moment from the northward or northeast, and in
the next not a breath of wind will be felt in that direction,
while from the southwest it will come out all at once with a
violence almost inconceivable. A bright spot to the southward is
the sure forerunner of the change, and vessels are thus enabled
to take the proper precautions.

It was about six in the morning when the blow came on with a
white squall, and, as usual, from the northward. By eight it had
increased very much, and brought down upon us one of the most
tremendous seas I had then ever beheld. Every thing had been made
as snug as possible, but the schooner laboured excessively, and
gave evidence of her bad qualities as a seaboat, pitching her
forecastle under at every plunge and with the greatest difficulty
struggling up from one wave before she was buried in another.
Just before sunset the bright spot for which we had been on the
look-out made its appearance in the southwest, and in an hour
afterward we perceived the little headsail we carried flapping
listlessly against the mast. In two minutes more, in spite of
every preparation, we were hurled on our beam-ends, as if by
magic, and a perfect wilderness of foam made a clear breach over
us as we lay. The blow from the southwest, however, luckily
proved to be nothing more than a squall, and we had the good
fortune to right the vessel without the loss of a spar. A heavy
cross sea gave us great trouble for a few hours after this, but
toward morning we found ourselves in nearly as good condition as
before the gale. Captain Guy considered that he had made an
escape little less than miraculous.

On the thirteenth of October we came in sight of Prince Edward’s
Island, in latitude 46 degrees 53’ S., longitude 37 degrees 46’
E. Two days afterward we found ourselves near Possession Island,
and presently passed the islands of Crozet, in latitude 42
degrees 59’ S., longitude 48 degrees E. On the eighteenth we made
Kerguelen’s or Desolation Island, in the Southern Indian Ocean,
and came to anchor in Christmas Harbour, having four fathoms of
water.

This island, or rather group of islands, bears southeast from the
Cape of Good Hope, and is distant therefrom nearly eight hundred
leagues. It was first discovered in 1772, by the Baron de
Kergulen, or Kerguelen, a Frenchman, who, thinking the land to
form a portion of an extensive southern continent carried home
information to that effect, which produced much excitement at the
time. The government, taking the matter up, sent the baron back
in the following year for the purpose of giving his new discovery
a critical examination, when the mistake was discovered. In 1777,
Captain Cook fell in with the same group, and gave to the
principal one the name of Desolation Island, a title which it
certainly well deserves. Upon approaching the land, however, the
navigator might be induced to suppose otherwise, as the sides of
most of the hills, from September to March, are clothed with very
brilliant verdure. This deceitful appearance is caused by a small
plant resembling saxifrage, which is abundant, growing in large
patches on a species of crumbling moss. Besides this plant there
is scarcely a sign of vegetation on the island, if we except some
coarse rank grass near the harbor, some lichen, and a shrub which
bears resemblance to a cabbage shooting into seed, and which has
a bitter and acrid taste.

The face of the country is hilly, although none of the hills can
be called lofty. Their tops are perpetually covered with snow.
There are several harbors, of which Christmas Harbour is the most
convenient. It is the first to be met with on the northeast side
of the island after passing Cape Francois, which forms the
northern shore, and, by its peculiar shape, serves to distinguish
the harbour. Its projecting point terminates in a high rock,
through which is a large hole, forming a natural arch. The
entrance is in latitude 48 degrees 40’ S., longitude 69 degrees
6’ E. Passing in here, good anchorage may be found under the
shelter of several small islands, which form a sufficient
protection from all easterly winds. Proceeding on eastwardly from
this anchorage you come to Wasp Bay, at the head of the harbour.
This is a small basin, completely landlocked, into which you can
go with four fathoms, and find anchorage in from ten to three,
hard clay bottom. A ship might lie here with her best bower ahead
all the year round without risk. To the westward, at the head of
Wasp Bay, is a small stream of excellent water, easily procured.

Some seal of the fur and hair species are still to be found on
Kerguelen’s Island, and sea elephants abound. The feathered
tribes are discovered in great numbers. Penguins are very plenty,
and of these there are four different kinds. The royal penguin,
so called from its size and beautiful plumage, is the largest.
The upper part of the body is usually gray, sometimes of a lilac
tint; the under portion of the purest white imaginable. The head
is of a glossy and most brilliant black, the feet also. The chief
beauty of plumage, however, consists in two broad stripes of a
gold color, which pass along from the head to the breast. The
bill is long, and either pink or bright scarlet. These birds walk
erect; with a stately carriage. They carry their heads high with
their wings drooping like two arms, and, as their tails project
from their body in a line with the legs, the resemblance to a
human figure is very striking, and would be apt to deceive the
spectator at a casual glance or in the gloom of the evening. The
royal penguins which we met with on Kerguelen’s Land were rather
larger than a goose. The other kinds are the macaroni, the
jackass, and the rookery penguin. These are much smaller, less
beautiful in plumage, and different in other respects.

Besides the penguin many other birds are here to be found, among
which may be mentioned sea-hens, blue peterels, teal, ducks, Port
Egmont hens, shags, Cape pigeons, the nelly, sea swallows, terns,
sea gulls, Mother Carey’s chickens, Mother Carey’s geese, or the
great peterel, and, lastly, the albatross.

The great peterel is as large as the common albatross, and is
carnivorous. It is frequently called the break-bones, or osprey
peterel. They are not at all shy, and, when properly cooked, are
palatable food. In flying they sometimes sail very close to the
surface of the water, with the wings expanded, without appearing
to move them in the least degree, or make any exertion with them
whatever.

The albatross is one of the largest and fiercest of the South Sea
birds. It is of the gull species, and takes its prey on the wing,
never coming on land except for the purpose of breeding. Between
this bird and the penguin the most singular friendship exists.
Their nests are constructed with great uniformity upon a plan
concerted between the two species—that of the albatross being
placed in the centre of a little square formed by the nests of
four penguins. Navigators have agreed in calling an assemblage of
such encampments a rookery. These rookeries have been often
described, but as my readers may not all have seen these
descriptions, and as I shall have occasion hereafter to speak of
the penguin and albatross, it will not be amiss to say something
here of their mode of building and living.

When the season for incubation arrives, the birds assemble in
vast numbers, and for some days appear to be deliberating upon
the proper course to be pursued. At length they proceed to
action. A level piece of ground is selected, of suitable extent,
usually comprising three or four acres, and situated as near the
sea as possible, being still beyond its reach. The spot is chosen
with reference to its evenness of surface, and that is preferred
which is the least encumbered with stones. This matter being
arranged, the birds proceed, with one accord, and actuated
apparently by one mind, to trace out, with mathematical accuracy,
either a square or other parallelogram, as may best suit the
nature of the ground, and of just sufficient size to accommodate
easily all the birds assembled, and no more—in this particular
seeming determined upon preventing the access of future
stragglers who have not participated in the labor of the
encampment. One side of the place thus marked out runs parallel
with the water’s edge, and is left open for ingress or egress.

Having defined the limits of the rookery, the colony now begin to
clear it of every species of rubbish, picking up stone by stone,
and carrying them outside of the lines, and close by them, so as
to form a wall on the three inland sides. Just within this wall a
perfectly level and smooth walk is formed, from six to eight feet
wide, and extending around the encampment—thus serving the
purpose of a general promenade.

The next process is to partition out the whole area into small
squares exactly equal in size. This is done by forming narrow
paths, very smooth, and crossing each other at right angles
throughout the entire extent of the rookery. At each intersection
of these paths the nest of an albatross is constructed, and a
penguin’s nest in the centre of each square—thus every penguin is
surrounded by four albatrosses, and each albatross by a like
number of penguins. The penguin’s nest consists of a hole in the
earth, very shallow, being only just of sufficient depth to keep
her single egg from rolling. The albatross is somewhat less
simple in her arrangements, erecting a hillock about a foot high
and two in diameter. This is made of earth, seaweed, and shells.
On its summit she builds her nest.

The birds take especial care never to leave their nests
unoccupied for an instant during the period of incubation, or,
indeed, until the young progeny are sufficiently strong to take
care of themselves. While the male is absent at sea in search of
food, the female remains on duty, and it is only upon the return
of her partner that she ventures abroad. The eggs are never left
uncovered at all—while one bird leaves the nest the other
nestling in by its side. This precaution is rendered necessary by
the thieving propensities prevalent in the rookery, the
inhabitants making no scruple to purloin each other’s eggs at
every good opportunity.

Although there are some rookeries in which the penguin and
albatross are the sole population, yet in most of them a variety
of oceanic birds are to be met with, enjoying all the privileges
of citizenship, and scattering their nests here and there,
wherever they can find room, never interfering, however, with the
stations of the larger species. The appearance of such
encampments, when seen from a distance, is exceedingly singular.
The whole atmosphere just above the settlement is darkened with
the immense number of the albatross (mingled with the smaller
tribes) which are continually hovering over it, either going to
the ocean or returning home. At the same time a crowd of penguins
are to be observed, some passing to and fro in the narrow alleys,
and some marching with the military strut so peculiar to them,
around the general promenade ground which encircles the rookery.
In short, survey it as we will, nothing can be more astonishing
than the spirit of reflection evinced by these feathered beings,
and nothing surely can be better calculated to elicit reflection
in every well-regulated human intellect.

On the morning after our arrival in Christmas Harbour the chief
mate, Mr. Patterson, took the boats, and (although it was
somewhat early in the season) went in search of seal, leaving the
captain and a young relation of his on a point of barren land to
the westward, they having some business, whose nature I could not
ascertain, to transact in the interior of the island. Captain Guy
took with him a bottle, in which was a sealed letter, and made
his way from the point on which he was set on shore toward one of
the highest peaks in the place. It is probable that his design
was to leave the letter on that height for some vessel which he
expected to come after him. As soon as we lost sight of him we
proceeded (Peters and myself being in the mate’s boat) on our
cruise around the coast, looking for seal. In this business we
were occupied about three weeks, examining with great care every
nook and corner, not only of Kerguelen’s Land, but of the several
small islands in the vicinity. Our labours, however, were not
crowned with any important success. We saw a great many fur seal,
but they were exceedingly shy, and with the greatest exertions,
we could only procure three hundred and fifty skins in all. Sea
elephants were abundant, especially on the western coast of the
mainland, but of these we killed only twenty, and this with great
difficulty. On the smaller islands we discovered a good many of
the hair seal, but did not molest them. We returned to the
schooner on the eleventh, where we found Captain Guy and his
nephew, who gave a very bad account of the interior, representing
it as one of the most dreary and utterly barren countries in the
world. They had remained two nights on the island, owing to some
misunderstanding, on the part of the second mate, in regard to
the sending a jollyboat from the schooner to take them off.