This is a modern-English version of A voyage to South America, with an account of a shipwreck in the river La Plata, in the year 1817, originally written by Fracker, George. It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling, and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.

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[1]

A
Trip to South America,

WITH

AN ACCOUNT OF A SHIPWRECK

IN

THE RIVER LA PLATA,

IN

THE YEAR 1817.

WITH

AN ACCOUNT OF A SHIPWRECK

IN

THE RIVER LA PLATA,

IN

THE YEAR 1817.

By the Sole Surviver.

By the Sole Survivor.

BOSTON:
PRINTED BY INGRAHAM AND HEWES
1826.

BOSTON:
PRINTED BY INGRAHAM AND HEWES
1826.

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[2]


[3]

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PREFACE.

The haste in which the former edition of this little journal was written and sent to the press, produced several errors and omissions, which, in this, I have endeavored to correct and supply; adding, also, a short account of the situation, population and customs of those places mentioned in the narrative.

The rush in which the earlier version of this little journal was written and sent to print caused several errors and omissions, which I have tried to correct and fill in this edition. I’ve also added a brief overview of the location, population, and customs of the places mentioned in the story.

No spectacle on earth, perhaps, which the eye of man can witness, is fraught with so much interest, sublimity and terror, and no situation is so awful and appalling, as a midnight shipwreck at sea. In my youth, I read, with unsatiated avidity, the voyages and disasters of the adventurous seaman, and I believe the desire for such information is planted in every human heart.

No scene on earth, perhaps, that a person can see, is filled with as much interest, awe, and fear, and no situation is as frightening and horrifying, as a midnight shipwreck at sea. In my youth, I read eagerly about the journeys and disasters of adventurous sailors, and I believe the desire for such stories is something every human has.

The remarkable event of one only surviving,[4] in a total shipwreck, naturally awakens a curiosity to learn the particulars, and by what extra chances he alone fortunately reached the shore. The following is a tale of this complexion,

The incredible event of one person surviving,[4] in an entire shipwreck, obviously sparks interest in discovering the details, and how he alone luckily made it to the shore. The following is a story of this nature,

‘Torn from the bosom of the raging sea.’

A few words in its defence are now necessary. Several persons have indirectly expressed their disbelief, totally or in part, of the events I have related, and have probably been so induced, from a few strained expressions which occur in the relation. These should have been overlooked in a tale which should have been penned with

A few words in its defense are now needed. Several people have indirectly shown their skepticism, either completely or in part, regarding the events I've described, likely influenced by some awkward phrases that appear in the account. These should have been ignored in a story that should have been written with

‘Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.’

That a ship of the name and description mentioned in these pages, sailed from such port, at such time, with such a company, and freighted with such a cargo, as I have described; that said ship never reached her port of destination; and that some time afterwards, the wreck[5] of a large vessel was discovered on the shores of the La Plata; are facts which no one, I presume, will deny, for they can be easily and readily proved. If thus far is admitted, what remains to doubt?

That a ship with the name and description mentioned in these pages sailed from a specific port at a certain time, with a particular crew and carrying a specific cargo, as I’ve described; that this ship never reached its destination; and that some time later, the wreck[5] of a large vessel was found on the shores of the La Plata; are facts that I assume no one will deny, as they can be easily and readily proven. If we accept this much, what is left to question?

It is the events, then, related in the interim, in which I was ultimately, and for some days, sole actor, which savors of the marvellous. But is it so incredible, that in a storm where twenty two perished in a short time and in a fearful manner, and but one escaped, that that one should be beset with peril, should win his way, with great difficulty, to the shore, and suffer the disasters he has attempted to describe? I have said thus much to destroy these surmises, which, though indirect and untenable, are grating to the feelings. The nature of this part of the case precluding the possibility of ocular evidence, I can only pledge, in support of its truth, my word of honor. All else relating to the ship may be confirmed by the testimony of several gentlemen now[6] living in neighboring towns, who were merchants resident at Buenos Ayres at the time, and who were well acquainted with the transactions, which were never doubted there. But enough—while others may stagger at the story, and wonder that he alone should survive; with him, that he escaped at all, will be the theme of the greatest wonder, and of the deepest gratitude.

It’s the events that took place in the meantime, in which I was ultimately, and for several days, the only one involved, that feel incredible. But is it really so hard to believe that in a storm where twenty-two people died quickly and in a terrible way, and only one survived, that this one person would face danger, struggle to reach the shore, and endure the hardships he has tried to describe? I’ve shared this to clear up these assumptions, which, even though they’re indirect and unfounded, are upsetting. Since the nature of this situation prevents any eyewitness evidence, I can only offer my word of honor to back up its truth. Everything else related to the ship can be confirmed by the testimonies of several gentlemen now living in nearby towns, who were merchants in Buenos Ayres at the time and were very familiar with the events, which were never questioned there. But enough—while others may find the story hard to believe and wonder why he alone survived; for him, the fact that he escaped at all will be the source of the greatest wonder and deep gratitude.

GEORGE FRACKER

GEORGE FRACKER


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NARRATIVE.

I sailed from New York in the ship Ocean, Captain. F., October, 1816, for the River of Plate. The patriot consul from the republic of Buenos Ayres, resident there, had contracted with and engaged a French officer of rank, with eighteen others, who were under his direction, for the service of his government. This personage had been formerly a colonel under Bonaparte, and commanded a regiment of Polish lancers—himself, by birth a Pole. He had accompanied Napoleon to Plymouth in the Bellorephon, and being denied a passage with him to St. Helena, left England, and sailed, with several inferior officers, to the United States. Here they were engaged, as before mentioned, by the envoy. Our ship was fitted out for their reception, and owned by Mr. H., then high sheriff of New York. Besides these, we had eight other Frenchmen as passengers, who were mechanics, architects, &c., and three Americans, comprising, with the ship’s crew, a goodly company of about forty seven persons. We loosed the sails, with a moderate breeze and fair, though somewhat hazy. Nothing material occurred till the third day out, when we[8] experienced a storm, which lasted, with great violence, about three hours; about dark it abated. We had got the ship under snug sail, and wearied with the labor of the day, I retired with the chief mate below, intending to broach a wine pipe, of which we had two stowed on end, under the after hatchway, to drink farewell to our homes and success to our ship. On proceeding from the cabin, through a passage to the steerage, we discovered by the lantern, a face which I had not before recognised on board. The man was decently dressed, sitting between the water casks, picking a bone. On being interrogated, he told us he was an Irishman, of the name of O’Brien; that bad luck had brought him there, having lost his money; and that he had smuggled himself on board. I acquainted the captain with the discovery, and the affair terminated by setting him to work as cook’s mate; in which capacity he afterwards proved a very useful fellow. The interference of the French passengers in the affairs of the ship, gave us much trouble, for which the tars paid themselves on crossing the line.

I set sail from New York on the ship Ocean, Captain F., in October 1816, heading for the River Plate. The patriotic consul from the republic of Buenos Aires had hired a French officer of rank and eighteen others, who were under his command, for his government. This man had previously been a colonel under Bonaparte and commanded a regiment of Polish lancers—he was originally from Poland. He had accompanied Napoleon to Plymouth on the Bellerophon, and after being denied a passage to St. Helena, he left England and sailed to the United States with several junior officers. Here, as mentioned earlier, they were engaged by the envoy. Our ship was prepared for their arrival and owned by Mr. H., who was then the high sheriff of New York. Besides these, we had eight other French mechanics, architects, etc., and three Americans, comprising, along with the ship’s crew, a total of about forty-seven people. We set sail with a moderate breeze and clear skies, though somewhat hazy. Nothing significant happened until the third day at sea when we encountered a storm that lasted about three hours with great intensity; it subsided around dark. We had managed to secure the ship, and tired from the day’s labor, I went below with the chief mate, planning to tap a wine barrel we had stored under the after hatchway to toast our homes and wish our ship success. While moving from the cabin through a passage to the steerage, we spotted a face I hadn’t recognized before. The man was decently dressed, sitting between the water casks and picking at a bone. When we asked him who he was, he said he was an Irishman named O’Brien, that bad luck had brought him there after losing his money, and that he had sneaked onboard. I informed the captain of the situation, and it ended with him being put to work as the cook’s mate, where he turned out to be very helpful. The involvement of the French passengers in the ship's affairs caused us quite a bit of trouble, which the crew took out on them when we crossed the equator.

It had been reported in the papers of the day, at New York, previous to our sailing, that the Portuguese had declared war against the patriots of the La Plata, had seized on Monte Video, and were blockading the port of Buenos Ayres. On Sunday morning, eighty two days out, we passed Monte Video, in full sight, with a stiff breeze. The day was bright and beautiful, and the appearance of this[9] walled city as we were borne along upon the bosom of the majestic La Plata, was to us, who so long had seen nothing but the ocean and the sky, highly gratifying. Abreast of the harbor, lay a Portuguese seventy four and several frigates; we ran within cannon shot of the former, she firing one gun, which we did not regard, but continued our course in an oblique direction across the river, to gain the south channel. About four, P. M., we discovered the opposite shore, and ran within three miles of it, when we struck upon a shoal; the bottom, fortunately, was of soft mud, though the swell of the sea caused the ship to strike very heavily. We imagined it to be the Chico Bank, as we thought Point India Shoal, which, in fact, we were thumping upon, could not extend so far from the land; the helmsman was therefore ordered to keep the ship’s head in shore, in order to pass between the bank and the main; but this movement soon caused her to strike so heavily as to throw three or four off their legs, and much alarmed the passengers. On perceiving our error, we immediately braced round the sails and steered off shore, and after striking again several times, found ourselves once more in deep water. The navigation at this part of the river is very difficult and dangerous. Night approaching, we soon after lessened sail and came to anchor in about ten fathoms, and remained thus for the night.

It had been reported in the newspapers back then in New York, before we set sail, that the Portuguese had declared war against the patriots of La Plata, had taken over Montevideo, and were blockading the port of Buenos Aires. On Sunday morning, eighty-two days out, we passed Montevideo in full view, with a strong breeze. The day was bright and beautiful, and seeing this [9] walled city as we sailed along the vast La Plata was a huge relief for us, who had only seen the ocean and sky for so long. Off the harbor was a Portuguese seventy-four and several frigates; we sailed within cannon range of the former, which fired a shot we ignored, continuing our course at an angle across the river to reach the south channel. Around 4 PM, we spotted the opposite shore and got within three miles of it when we hit a shoal; luckily, the bottom was soft mud, though the waves caused the ship to hit hard. We thought it was Chico Bank since we believed Point India Shoal, which we were actually running into, couldn’t extend so far from land; we then ordered the helmsman to steer the ship’s head toward shore to pass between the bank and the mainland. However, this caused us to hit so hard that three or four people lost their balance, alarming the passengers. Realizing our mistake, we quickly adjusted the sails and turned away from the shore, and after hitting again a few more times, we finally found ourselves back in deep water. The navigation in this part of the river is very tricky and dangerous. With night approaching, we soon reduced sail and anchored in about ten fathoms, staying that way for the night.

At day break we again loosened the sails and proceeded up the river. Capt. F. and the general[10] were upon the look-out aloft, greatly anxious for the result of this day’s proceedings; the Frenchmen dreading the Portuguese, and expecting hourly to be boarded by a man of war and taken prisoners, and the captain also concerned for the safety of his ship. At ten, A. M., they discovered, from aloft, several vessels, far ahead, which, enveloped partly in the floating mist of the morning, loomed like men of war. The merchant vessels in the outer roads of Buenos Ayres are discovered before you can see the city, from which they are distant eight or ten miles; where, also, is stationed, at all times, an English frigate or sloop of war. These, I assured the agitated Frenchmen, were the ships they now saw; but their fears construed them into the dreaded Portuguese squadron, and their opinion could not be shaken. The captain ordered the ship to be brought to. The sails were clued up, the anchor dropped, and the long boat hoisted out and got alongside. While doing this, I was sent for in the cabin, where the captain requested me to get in readiness, with four men, to go in the boat and take the French officers on shore. They seemed convinced, he said, that the ships ahead are enemies, and are willing to take the chance of landing here, rather than to fall into their hands. I received some dollars to pay expenses, immediately mustered the baggage of the soldiers, and with the general and nine others, pushed off from the ship and made for the shore, distant about five miles. We landed[11] about four, P. M., running the boat on the beach, as she had leaked half full of water, and commenced unlading the cargo, which comprised all the officers’ trunks, bedding, armour, side arms, &c., and a small stock of provisions. These were carried through the bushes to an elevated spot, where there grew a thicket of small sized trees, by the help of which, the passengers began to erect a kind of arbor, while I left them, with two of the seamen, to explore the country, which, probably, before we landed, the human foot had never trod. The soil we found very wet, and almost impenetrable from the thick growth of tall reeds. I saw, over the rushes, afar off, a rising ground and a tree, and thinking it would be a good place for further observations, I resolved to gain it. Our only method of advancing was by parting the rushes on each side with our arms, and breaking through the bushes or creeping under the small trees, which grew here in the thick luxuriance of unmolested nature. But for the greatest distance, our only method of progressing was, to lay ourselves at length on the rushes and pressing them to the ground, to proceed again alternately. We gained, at last, the desired eminence, and I ascended the tree, but could perceive nothing of a habitation or cattle, though we had seen the prints of animals’ feet.

At daybreak, we loosened the sails again and moved up the river. Captain F. and the general[10] were watching from above, very anxious about what the day would bring; the Frenchmen were worried about the Portuguese and expected to be boarded by a warship at any moment, while the captain was also concerned for the safety of his ship. By 10 A.M., they spotted several vessels ahead, partially shrouded in the morning mist, appearing like warships. The merchant ships in the outer roads of Buenos Ayres can be seen before the city itself, which is eight or ten miles away; and there's always an English frigate or sloop of war stationed there. I assured the anxious Frenchmen that those were the ships they saw; however, their fears twisted them into believing they were the feared Portuguese squadron, and they couldn’t be convinced otherwise. The captain ordered the ship to be stopped. The sails were stowed, the anchor was dropped, and the longboat was lowered into the water. While this was happening, I was called into the cabin, where the captain asked me to prepare, along with four men, to take the French officers ashore. He mentioned they were convinced the ships ahead were enemies and preferred to take their chances landing here rather than risk falling into their hands. I received some dollars for expenses, gathered the soldiers' baggage, and with the general and nine others, set off towards the shore, about five miles away. We reached land[11] around 4 P.M., running the boat onto the beach since it had leaked halfway full of water. We began unloading the cargo, which included the officers' trunks, bedding, armor, sidearms, etc., along with a small stash of provisions. These were carried through the bushes to an elevated area where a thicket of small trees grew, which the passengers started using to build a kind of shelter, while I left them with two of the seamen to explore the area — likely untouched by human feet until we arrived. The ground was very wet and nearly impossible to navigate due to the thick growth of tall reeds. I spotted a hill and a tree over the rushes in the distance, thinking it could be a good vantage point for further observations. I decided to make my way to it. The only way to advance was by parting the reeds with our arms and breaking through the bushes or crawling under the small trees that grew densely here in the untouched landscape. For the most part, our progress involved lying flat on the rushes, pressing them down, and then moving again alternately. Eventually, we reached the desired height, and I climbed the tree but could see no signs of habitation or livestock, even though we had noticed animal footprints.

By the time we returned, we found the wind, which had been increasing, now blew a gale on shore; a large surf was rolling in upon the beach,[12] which at once convinced us of the impossibility of making our way through it in our leaky boat, back to the ship; we were therefore compelled to make the best of necessity, and to remain on shore; I directed the men to bring the boat into a small cove which made into the land, and the anchor to be carried up the beach and secured. She then rode in her little bay in safety. It now began to thicken around and to grow dark and tempestuous, which urged us to turn our thoughts to the means of shelter and comfort, during what foreboded a dreary, cold and stormy night. We took a scanty supper of some cold ham and ship bread, and one bottle of brandy, which nearly consumed our stock of provisions; then, at the suggestion of the general, all hands turned to in cutting down armfuls of the long rushes which grew so thick around, to serve for beds, and in breaking down the branches of decayed trees, &c., for fuel. The ground was every where very wet, and no dry spot could be found; these rushes we strewed very thickly on the ground, in the most open place we could find, in the form of a circle, upon which we were to repose. In the centre of this we made half a dozen large fires, and then set the watch, myself and four seamen, as we concluded to let the soldiers do as best pleased them, which watch was to commence at twelve, midnight, till which time I was to keep guard; after which, the sailors two hours each, till morning. This was necessary in order to keep the[13] fires replenished, for it was freezing cold, to protect us from wild beasts, and to take care of our boat. At twelve I called the next in turn and laid down, to try the experiment, if weariness could repose upon a flint, for I had a stone for my pillow, or what was worse, upon the wet ground. I had no outside covering, neither had the seamen, but labor compelled us to sleep. I awoke about day-light, and my feelings were indescribable; the morning was boisterous, the fires were wholly extinct, and had been so a long time. The men from fatigue had fallen into a deep sleep, and snoring around. I attempted to rise, but was surprised to find my limbs so stiff and nerveless; my senses too seemed almost as stiff as my bones, I felt light headed, and half crazy, the effect of sleeping on wet ground. I walked round in search of the general, who was lying with his associates in a cluster, on the opposite side of the fires, well sheltered from the severity of the night and the earth, by their mattresses, and ample coverings of surtouts, cloaks and wrappers. I acquainted him of my intention of returning on board the ship. He then pencilled a note to Captain F. informing him he was resolved to endeavor to penetrate by land to Ensenada, and from whence, should he arrive there, to send down a conveyance for his men. We then pushed off with the boat, and after a long and strong pull reached the ship; on entering on board we found but two men, the captain and cook; the seamen[14] wearied by the preceding night’s fatigue, had turned in. Many congratulations passed at meeting again, with the seamen, as each party knew it had been a hard night to both. A part of one cable was hauled in upon the forecastle. The captain informed me he had lost the best bower, and was resolved to remain no longer in the river with but one anchor; he requested me, therefore, to take the remaining Frenchmen on shore and make for Ensenada by land or water, as soon as convenient. As the wind was fair up the river, he should directly weigh and set sail, stating that if once rid of the troublesome Frenchmen he had nothing to fear.

By the time we got back, the wind had picked up and was now howling on the shore; huge waves were crashing onto the beach,[12] which immediately made it clear that we couldn’t get through in our leaky boat to return to the ship. So, we had no choice but to make the best of the situation and stay on land. I told the crew to bring the boat into a small cove that led inland, and to haul the anchor up the beach and secure it. It was then safe in its little bay. As it began to get dark and stormy, we needed to think about how to shelter ourselves and stay comfortable during what promised to be a long, cold, and stormy night. We had a meager supper of some cold ham and ship’s hardtack, along with one bottle of brandy, which almost depleted our food supplies. Then, at the suggestion of the general, everyone pitched in to cut down bundles of the long rushes that grew thickly around us for bedding, and to break branches from decaying trees, etc., for firewood. The ground was soggy everywhere, and we couldn’t find a dry spot; we spread the rushes thickly on the most open area we could locate, forming a circle to lie down on. In the center, we made six large fires, and then assigned watch duty, with myself and four sailors, deciding to let the soldiers do as they pleased. The watch was set to start at midnight, with me on guard until then; after that, the sailors would take turns every two hours until morning. This was crucial to keep the[13] fires going, as it was freezing cold, to protect us from wild animals, and to look after our boat. At midnight, I called the next person on duty and laid down, trying to see if I could sleep on a stone, since I had a rock for a pillow, or worse, on the wet ground. I had no outer covering, nor did the sailors, but we were forced to sleep from exhaustion. I woke up around dawn, and my feelings were indescribable; the morning was rough, the fires were completely out, and had been for a while. The men, worn out, were deep in sleep and snoring all around. I tried to get up, but was shocked to find my limbs so stiff and weak; my senses felt almost as stiff as my muscles, I felt lightheaded and a bit crazy, the result of sleeping on the damp ground. I walked around looking for the general, who was lying in a heap with his companions on the other side of the fires, well sheltered from the harshness of the night and the ground by their mattresses and plenty of coverings like overcoats and cloaks. I told him I planned to go back to the ship. He then wrote a note to Captain F., letting him know he was determined to try to reach Ensenada on foot, and from there, if he made it, he’d send a way to get his men. We then launched the boat, and after a long, tough pull, we reached the ship; upon boarding, we found only two men there, the captain and the cook; the sailors, exhausted from the previous night, had turned in. We exchanged many congratulations at reuniting, as each group understood how rough the night had been for both. A part of one cable was pulled in onto the forecastle. The captain told me he had lost the best anchor and wasn’t willing to stay in the river with just one; he asked me to take the remaining Frenchmen ashore and head for Ensenada, either by land or sea, as soon as possible. Since the wind was favorable up the river, he would weigh anchor and set sail right away, stating that once he was free of the troublesome Frenchmen, he had nothing to worry about.

The remaining party was soon collected and seemed unwilling to go on shore through fear of falling into Portuguese hands. These we likewise landed on the beach, being all the French passengers. The ship immediately threw out her sails and was soon out of sight. Most of these officers had been troublesome guests, and were discontented, insolent, and heartily disliked by the ship’s company; but one of a captain’s rank, was of a different mould; he was frank and intelligent, fine form and features, and by his gentlemanly deportment, and many virtues, had endeared himself throughout the passage to us Americans. To him, in Spanish, on stepping on shore, I addressed myself relative to our situation and prospects. The general with his servant had left them in the morning to penetrate his way to Ensenada, as before intended. While[15] speaking to this officer, a quarrel had arisen between his comrades and the four sailors, which we endeavored to quell. The captain remonstrated in vain, and they had proceeded to blows, and the first party being now joined by the others, were running for their arms, which hung on the arbor above, and serious consequences were likely to ensue. I therefore deemed it prudent to leave them to their fate, and hastily shook hands with my friend, and ordered the men to jump into the boat and pull away. It was instantly done, and we had gained a considerable distance before our adversaries had reached the beach. Astonished at this sudden and unexpected movement, they hallooed and loaded us with threats and imprecations; but disregarding all, we laid in our oars, and hoisted a large lug mainsail, and kept foaming on our way, the wind being fresh and fair; and shaping our course for Ensenada, we kept steadily along the shore, though at a considerable distance from it, on account of shoals. I had previously been in the above place four years before, in 1812; I was well acquainted with the entrance, the several creeks, and a number of the villagers. In a short time after our departure with the boat, while sailing rapidly with a stiff breeze, one of our men discovered abreast of us, on a pole, a signal of a white handkerchief, displayed in one of the nooks or windings of the beach. I directly stood in shore to ascertain what was meant, and as we neared the[16] strand, we discovered to our great surprise, the party of artizans which we had last landed from the ship, and who had left us immediately on landing, to plod their way on foot along shore, to our place of destination. So great was their eagerness to reach the boat, that many waded up to their chins in water, and nearly capsized us in their hurry to tumble on board. They gave us a direful account of their progress over the rocks, puddles, flints, &c. of the beach, having to trudge barefoot, with their shoes in their hands, as the ground was so interrupted and broken, that they were often up mid-deep in water in wading from one point of land to another. Indeed the contortions of faces, and lacerated feet, gave strong evidence of very rough treatment. After a rapid run of about an hour, we saw the entrance of Ensenada, and by cutting through a small creek across a point of land, soon found ourselves in the channel; by the appearance of the rushes it was nearly high water, and we soon pulled up along side of a dismantled ship, and saw several others. I directly ascended on board, but found no one on deck; on entering the cabin, I saw at the bottom of the companion way, a foreigner smoking his cigaro de papel. I inquired in Spanish what ship, &c. and if the Portuguese were blockading Buenos Ayres? ‘Nothing like it,’ he answered in Portuguese, but that they had possession of Monte Video, and a small squadron there. Highly gratified with this intelligence, and eased of our apprehensions, we[17] left her and struck into a small creek which led up to the village; here we lowered the mainsail, and took to the oars, as the creeks are here very irregular and narrow, and we in rowing struck each bank with our oars. After pulling about a quarter of a mile, we fell in with a boat with two persons in the stern, and rowed by two seamen, who, with the boat, looked like American. I instantly recognised one of the gentlemen as a Mr. B., who I had formerly been well acquainted with in Buenos Ayres. ‘Where in the name of wonder, my friend,’ he asked, ‘are you from, with that dismal set of fellows?’ ‘From New York,’ I replied. ‘What! in that boat?’ (for he had seen no ship) ‘Oh no! we landed a score of Frenchmen about four leagues below, for fear of the Portuguese, and the passengers are some of them, which we picked up along shore.’ The boats were now alongside together, and my friend B. introduced me to Captain B., of the ship A., of Baltimore, then lying in the channel waiting freight. He advised me to proceed to the captain of the port, Mr. J., to whose house they were then going, and report myself. I thought myself fortunate in falling in, by chance, with such good company, and on landing, we took the direct path to the captain of the port’s house. This part of the country is extremely low and level, insomuch as two feet above the usual tides would inundate the country for many miles around. The houses are thinly scattered, and the people sociable and friendly.[18] But I shall defer a further description for the present, and continue the story. To this officer, the captain of the port, the second in consequence in the village, and an American, I introduced myself, and briefly related the occurrences which brought us into Ensenada; after some conversation, we proceeded towards the landing place to procure accommodations for the men, whom I left in the boat, awaiting my return. In passing by a pulperia, or small tavern, (where they sell groceries, and can occasionally supply beds and victuals to the lower classes) we were soon apprised by their noisy shouts of mirth, that they were within, regaling themselves upon the publican’s vino-carlon and sausages, and congratulating themselves on falling in with so snug a birth after the stormy nights at sea. The port officer agreed with the pulpero for the daily supply and lodgings for the men while we should remain at Ensenada. From thence we visited the commandant, who lived about half a mile from the creek. Here we found a small party of soldiers, through which we passed, and were ushered into the presence of the chief magistrate. He appeared to be about fifty years of age, very corpulent, with a fat, contented face. After hearing the story, every thing was in motion. The landing, within his jurisdiction, of a score of friends from America, was an important affair, and happened but rarely in this quiet village, where, in general, the greatest stretch of his abilities and power consisted in stifling the[19] tumultuous rows of the sailors from the ships, on Sundays, or signing passports for Buenos Ayres. In conjunction with Mr. J., he procured guides, horses, riders and carts, to proceed in search of the abandoned party. As they were officers sent out by the consul for the patriot army, he wisely considered they had a claim upon his services and assistance.

The remaining group was quickly gathered and seemed hesitant to go ashore for fear of falling into Portuguese hands. We brought them all to the beach, and they were all French passengers. The ship immediately raised her sails and was soon out of sight. Most of these officers had been difficult guests; they were discontented, rude, and thoroughly disliked by the crew. However, one officer of captain's rank was different; he was open, smart, well-built, and pleasant. His gentlemanly behavior and many admirable traits had made him well-liked among us Americans throughout the voyage. To him, in Spanish, I spoke as we stepped onshore about our situation and future prospects. The general and his servant had left earlier that morning to head toward Ensenada as planned. While I was talking to this officer, a fight broke out between his mates and four sailors, which we tried to calm down. The captain protested without success, and soon they were trading punches. As the first group was joined by others, they ran for their weapons hanging above on the arbor, and serious trouble seemed imminent. I decided it was wiser to leave them to their fate, quickly shook hands with my friend, and ordered the men to jump into the boat and row away. They did so immediately, and we had covered a significant distance before our adversaries reached the beach. Shocked by our sudden and unexpected departure, they yelled threats and insults at us, but we ignored them, laid down our oars, hoisted a large mainsail, and sped on our way, with the wind fresh and favorable. We set our course for Ensenada, keeping a steady distance from the shore due to shallow waters. I had previously been in Ensenada four years earlier, in 1812; I knew the entrance well, along with the various creeks and some of the locals. Not long after we left with the boat, while sailing quickly in a strong breeze, one of our crew spotted a signal of a white handkerchief on a pole in one of the beach's nooks as we passed. I headed closer to shore to find out what it meant, and as we approached the beach, we were surprised to see the group of artisans that we had last landed from the ship. They had left us right after landing to walk along the shore to our destination. They were so eager to reach the boat that many of them waded into the water up to their chins, nearly capsizing us as they hurried to get on board. They gave us a grim account of their journey over the rocky, muddy, and uneven beach terrain, walking barefoot with their shoes in their hands, as the ground was so rough that they often found themselves knee-deep in water while moving from one point of land to another. The expressions on their faces and their scraped feet indicated that they had a tough time. After a quick run of about an hour, we spotted the entrance to Ensenada, and by cutting through a small creek across a point of land, we soon found ourselves in the channel. With the rushes indicating it was almost high tide, we pulled up alongside a stripped ship and saw several others. I immediately boarded, but found no one on deck; upon entering the cabin, I saw a foreigner smoking his paper cigar. I asked in Spanish what ship this was and if the Portuguese were blockading Buenos Aires. "Not at all," he replied in Portuguese, explaining that they had taken control of Montevideo and had a small squadron there. Relieved by this news, I felt much better about our situation and left the ship to follow a small creek leading to the village. Here, we lowered the mainsail and took to the oars since the creeks were quite irregular and narrow, causing our oars to strike each bank. After rowing about a quarter of a mile, we encountered a boat with two people in the back, rowed by two sailors who looked American. I immediately recognized one of the gentlemen as Mr. B., someone I had known well in Buenos Aires. "Where on earth did you come from with that gloomy crew?" he asked. "From New York," I replied. "What? In that boat?" (since he hadn't seen any ship). "Oh no! We dropped off a bunch of Frenchmen about four leagues down the coast to avoid the Portuguese, and some of these passengers are among them, whom we picked up along the shore." The boats were now next to each other, and my friend B. introduced me to Captain B. of the ship A. from Baltimore, which was then lying in the channel waiting for freight. He advised me to go talk to the port captain, Mr. J., whose house they were heading to, and report myself. I felt fortunate to run into such good company and, upon landing, we headed straight to the port captain's house. This part of the country is extremely low and flat, so that even two feet above the usual tides would flood the surrounding area for many miles. The houses are sparsely spread out, and the people are friendly and welcoming. But I’ll hold off on further description for now and continue the story. To the port captain, who was the second most important person in the village and an American, I introduced myself and briefly explained what had brought us to Ensenada. After some discussion, we made our way to the dock to arrange accommodations for the men, whom I left waiting in the boat for my return. As we passed a pulpería, or small tavern (where they sell groceries and might occasionally offer beds and meals to the lower classes), we quickly learned from their loud laughter that the men were inside enjoying some of the publican's wine and sausages, celebrating their arrival in such a cozy spot after the stormy nights at sea. The port officer struck a deal with the pulpero for daily provisions and lodging for the men while we stayed in Ensenada. From there, we visited the commandant, who lived about half a mile from the creek. There, we passed a small group of soldiers and were brought into the chief magistrate's presence. He looked to be about fifty years old, quite stout, with a plump, contented face. After hearing our tale, everything immediately went into action. The arrival of a group of friends from America landing in his jurisdiction was a big deal and happened rarely in this quiet village, where typically, his main tasks revolved around calming rowdy sailors on Sundays or signing passports for Buenos Aires. Together with Mr. J., he arranged for guides, horses, riders, and carts to search for the abandoned group. Since they were officers sent by the consul for the patriot army, he wisely considered they deserved his assistance.

The next morning at day break, the caravan of carts set out from the magistrate’s in quest of the absent party, with orders to lose no time, but to proceed till they found them, and to bring them to his house forthwith. I now took up my abode at the house of Mr. J., where I remained during my stay in this place. During the forenoon of the following day, the carts returned with the wanderers. They were found in a miserable plight, near a swamp, from which they had just extricated themselves, covered with sweat and mud, and nearly exhausted from fatigue and hunger. They were kept partially guarded at the commandant’s house till an answer to his express should arrive from Buenos Ayres, to which place he had written, relating the strange manner of their falling into his hands. On the evening of the third day, the much expected letters arrived. The captain of the port had instructions to permit myself and crew to depart at pleasure, and the commandant had directions to pay every attention to the French officers, and to furnish[20] means to conduct them to Buenos Ayres. Early the next morning, receiving a passport from the captain of the port, and a small basket of provisions, to which we added a jug of wine and keg of water, we started in our boat, (myself and the four seamen) for Buenos Ayres. We pulled away at the oars for about three miles, till we had doubled a point of land, when we hoisted a sail, and were able, with the wind, to make a stretch up the river. We kept wholly along shore, and in about five hours sail, discerned the merchantmen in the offing of Buenos Ayres, and passed the English frigate and native guard brig without molestation. After passing the small craft in the inner roads to windward, in a passage of six and a half hours, we landed at the Mole-Head. This is the only landing place, saving the custom house, of the port. There are no piers or wharves, and the shore, or river side, is wholly occupied by washer-women, who line the whole surface of the beach, and who, with their black limbs and snow-white clothes spread around, present a busy and singular appearance. I procured lodgings for the men at a house in the street near the beach, and then went in search of the captain, who I presumed was ashore, as we had seen the ship in the outer roads; but he had not yet landed. In the afternoon, however, I fell in with him near the Mole, having just landed. In the morning a pilot was procured and we went on board; and that[21] day the ship, after losing her long boat, which filled and swamped while under way, and broke her fast, was brought in to an anchor in the inner roads.

The next morning at dawn, the caravan of carts left the magistrate’s place to search for the missing group, with orders to waste no time and to continue until they found them and brought them to his house immediately. I took up residence at Mr. J.'s house, where I stayed during my time in this area. Later that morning, the carts returned with the lost individuals. They were in pitiful condition, near a swamp, from which they had just freed themselves, covered in sweat and mud and nearly exhausted from fatigue and hunger. They were kept under partial guard at the commandant’s house until a response to his message arrived from Buenos Ayres, to which he had written about the strange circumstances of their capture. On the evening of the third day, the long-awaited letters arrived. The port captain was instructed to allow me and my crew to leave at our convenience, and the commandant was directed to provide every attention to the French officers and to arrange for their transport to Buenos Ayres. Early the next morning, after receiving a passport from the port captain and a small basket of provisions, which we supplemented with a jug of wine and a keg of water, we set out in our boat (myself and four seamen) for Buenos Ayres. We rowed for about three miles until we rounded a point of land, then hoisted a sail and, with the wind, made our way up the river. We stayed close to the shore and, after around five hours of sailing, spotted the merchant ships off the coast of Buenos Ayres, passing the English frigate and the local guard brig without interference. After navigating past the smaller vessels in the inner harbor upwind, we landed at the Mole-Head in about six and a half hours. This is the only landing area besides the customs house at the port. There are no piers or wharves, and the shoreline is entirely taken over by washerwomen, who cover the beach and, with their dark limbs and bright white clothes spread around, create a busy and unique sight. I found accommodations for the men at a house on the street near the beach and then went to look for the captain, assuming he was ashore since we had seen the ship in the outer harbor; however, he had not yet come ashore. In the afternoon, though, I ran into him near the Mole as he had just landed. The next morning, we arranged for a pilot and went aboard, and that day the ship, after losing her longboat, which filled with water and sank while underway, was finally anchored in the inner harbor.

On the twenty second of February, Washington’s birth day, a phenomenon took place at Buenos Ayres, which will ever be remembered by those who witnessed it, and which I believe has never been recorded. On the morning of that day, while lying off from the shore about three quarters of a mile—the men being employed, as usual, in washing the decks, being about half past seven, and the sun two hours high—‘Jack,’ says one of the men to his shipmate, after he had thrown his bucket of water, and was observing the weather, ‘what means that cloud of dust in the wake of the town, yonder?’ Before the question could be answered by his comrade, however, the uncommon appearance of this dense body of dust, and the wild appearance of the sky, had rivetted the eyes of all on board. ‘Stand by the cable tier!’ vociferated the chief mate; ‘jump down and be ready to pay out—bear a hand, my hearties, here’s a pampero coming, driving the world before him.’ The black cloud of dust now rising and expanding in awful grandeur, and extending over half the horizon, rapidly approached us, immediately followed by an immense shroud of impenetrable darkness, which rose beneath and followed it. As the ship lay broadside to the shore, I was proceeding from midships to the helm, in order to bring her head to wind; but I was arrested[22] in my progress by total darkness and the tremendous blast, which at once, struck the ship and nearly capsized her, and had to secure myself by clenching the railing. This is indeed a phenomenon, I exclaimed to the chief mate; what comes next? but astonishment kept him and all others deprived, for the time, of speech. Here, for a few moments, was a grand and awfully sublime spectacle; on one side of us was a body of almost palpable darkness, and on the other, the fair light of heaven. Expecting momently to be blown to the other regions, we waited, breathlessly, the result of this wonder of nature for about twenty minutes, when the field of darkness passed through, and was driven beyond us to the other side, and in its vacancy the light slowly returned; thus we had repeatedly light on one side and darkness on the other. On discerning the features of each other, we were surprised at their ludicrous complexion; a sooty black dust had overspread our faces, and rendered our appearance like that of negroes. On recovering from our surprise, we found we had sustained no other damage than dragging our anchors a few cables length; but other vessels, near us before, we scarcely could recognise, they had drifted so far. The remainder of the day was boisterous and rainy, attended with heavy thunder and lightning. The sailors considered this event as a voice of Providence, and the carpenter piously believed it a judgment on the sinful inhabitants of the land. In the city, a greater degree of[23] consternation prevailed. Many, at the time, were in the streets, going and returning from market; but the sudden absence of light compelled every one to remain as he was caught, with caravans of mules, droves of horses, &c., while milk boys, priests and begging friars, dropped on their knees and earnestly implored the protection of the saints.

On February 22nd, Washington's birthday, something unforgettable happened in Buenos Aires, an event that I believe has never been documented. That morning, while we were anchored about three-quarters of a mile from shore— the crew was going about their usual tasks of cleaning the decks, and it was around 7:30 AM with the sun already two hours up—one of the men called out to his buddy, "Hey Jack, what’s that cloud of dust trailing behind the town over there?" Before his shipmate could respond, the unusual sight of that thick cloud of dust and the strange sky had captured everyone’s attention on board. "Stand by the cable tier!" shouted the chief mate. "Jump down and be ready to pay out—come on, my friends, there’s a pampero coming, blowing everything away." The dark cloud of dust, now growing larger and more impressive, stretched across half the horizon and quickly approached us, followed closely by a huge veil of impenetrable darkness rising beneath it. As the ship was positioned broadside to the shore, I was making my way from midships to the helm to turn her head into the wind, but I was halted by complete darkness and a violent blast that struck the ship and nearly knocked her over, forcing me to grip the railing for support. "This is truly a phenomenon!" I exclaimed to the chief mate. "What’s going to happen next?" But astonishment left him and everyone else speechless for the moment. For a few moments, we were treated to an awe-inspiring sight; on one side, there was a mass of tangible darkness, and on the other, the bright daylight. Expecting to be blown away at any moment, we waited, breathless, for about twenty minutes for this natural wonder to unfold, until the field of darkness passed over us and moved off to the other side, with the light gradually returning in its place; thus, we were alternately in light on one side and darkness on the other. As we recognized each other's faces, we were surprised by our ridiculous appearance; a layer of sooty black dust had coated our faces, making us look like we were all blackened. Once we recovered from our shock, we found we hadn’t suffered any major damage, except for dragging our anchors a few cables' length. However, other nearby vessels had drifted so far that we could hardly recognize them. The rest of the day remained stormy and rainy, accompanied by heavy thunder and lightning. The sailors viewed this event as a sign from Providence, while the carpenter reverently believed it was a punishment for the sinful people of the land. In the city, a greater sense of panic took over. Many people were out in the streets, going to and from the market; but when the sudden darkness fell, everyone froze where they were, along with caravans of mules and herds of horses, while milk vendors, priests, and begging friars dropped to their knees, earnestly praying for the saints' protection.

In April, the ship having altered her destination, I obtained a release, not choosing to return home, and desirous of seeing more of the world. Soon after, meeting with an old acquaintance, a sea captain, he proposed to me a birth in a good ship, soon to sail to Valparaiso, in the Pacific, doubling Cape Horn, and from thence westwardly to Canton, and returning by the way of the Cape of Good Hope, thus completing the circumnavigation of the globe, or the sailing round the world. This was just what I wished, and which would occupy, probably, twenty or twenty four months. While making preparations, however, news arrived from the Pacific, detrimental to the sale of the cargo they were receiving on board, which was matte or yerba, (Paraguay tea) which they were obliged to discharge; and much to my mortification the voyage was altered. In the month of May, however, I entered as second officer on board of this ship, the Jane, Captain William Seaboth, bound to Brazil, with a cargo of hides. Our departure was sometime retarded by striking on the bar, in going out, which damaged our rudder and detained us nearly six[24] weeks. Towards the middle of June, however, we again set sail, and after a pleasant passage of twenty days, came to anchor in the harbor of Rio Janeiro. Here we had to remain nearly two months, for freight. We succeeded at last in procuring it, consisting of nearly two hundred pipes of wine, several hundred barrels of flour, tobacco in baskets, crockery ware, dry goods, salmon and Irish butter in kegs, salchina, or salt pork, which is the side of a hog rolled up hard and put in a basket of the shape of a meal bag, &c. &c.; a very full cargo. We had on board five passengers, two of them Spaniards, a German, an Englishman and an American, as follows: Senior Monasteria, an eminent engineer, whose wife and four children were living in Buenos Ayres, of which he was a valuable citizen, aged about forty five; Senior Barras, a resident of Rio, of a weak constitution, who had undertaken this passage on account of his low state of health, and about twenty years of age. On the day of our departure from Rio, his father, an aged Spaniard, who resided there, came on board to see that every thing was prepared for his comfort, and to take a farewell of his only son. Mynheer Mann, a German gentleman, who had been for some years a resident of Rio Janeiro, and had before freighted vessels and taken passage in them from thence to Monte Video; he was a man of middle age, of prepossessing appearance, a gentleman and a scholar, and possessing the milk of human kindness in an[25] eminent degree. Francis Summers, a North Briton, aged about thirty, who had likewise long resided in Buenos Ayres, Monte Video, and Rio Janeiro, and had many acquaintances in all those places; he was strong and athletic, of enterprising habits, and his loss was deeply lamented. Lastly, Mr. Tiernay, an American, (naturalized) who, I believe, was a native of France, the language of which he spoke with ease; he was a large and well proportioned man, of great information, and easy and sociable manners. He had left Baltimore about a year previous, with a freight, which he advantageously disposed of at Rio, and on the arrival of the Union, Captain P., of Boston, purchased about four hundred barrels of flour and put on board of our vessel, which would have brought a great price at Monte Video had our ship reached the port.

In April, after the ship changed its destination, I got released, not wanting to go back home and eager to explore more of the world. Soon after, I ran into an old acquaintance, a sea captain, who offered me a position on a good ship that was set to sail to Valparaiso in the Pacific, go around Cape Horn, then head west to Canton, and return via the Cape of Good Hope, completing a journey around the globe. This was exactly what I wanted, and it would take about twenty or twenty-four months. While preparing, though, news came from the Pacific about issues affecting the cargo they were taking on board, which was matte or yerba (Paraguay tea), leading them to unload it; much to my disappointment, the journey was changed. In May, I joined the ship Jane as the second officer, under Captain William Seaboth, headed for Brazil with a cargo of hides. Our departure was delayed after we got stuck on the bar while leaving, which damaged our rudder and held us back for almost six weeks. By mid-June, we finally set sail again, and after a smooth twenty-day journey, we dropped anchor in Rio de Janeiro's harbor. We had to stay there for nearly two months waiting for freight. Eventually, we secured a load of nearly two hundred pipes of wine, several hundred barrels of flour, baskets of tobacco, crockery, dry goods, salmon and Irish butter in kegs, and salchina, or salted pork—the rolled-up side of a pig packed into a meal bag-shaped basket, etc.; it was a very full cargo. We had five passengers on board: two Spaniards, a German, an Englishman, and an American. They were Senior Monasteria, a notable engineer whose wife and four kids lived in Buenos Ayres, making him a valuable citizen at around forty-five years old; Senior Barras, a Rio resident with a weak constitution, who was traveling because of his poor health at about twenty years of age. On the day we left Rio, his father, an elderly Spaniard living there, came aboard to ensure everything was ready for him and to say goodbye. Mynheer Mann was a German gentleman who had lived in Rio de Janeiro for several years, having previously shipped goods and traveled to Monte Video; he was middle-aged and had a likable appearance, being both a gentleman and a scholar with considerable kindness. Francis Summers, a North Briton around thirty, had also long resided in Buenos Ayres, Monte Video, and Rio de Janeiro, and was well-known in all those places; he was strong, athletic, and his absence was deeply regretted. Finally, there was Mr. Tiernay, an American (naturalized), who I believe was originally from France and spoke the language fluently; he was a tall, well-proportioned man, very knowledgeable, and friendly. He had left Baltimore about a year earlier with a cargo he sold well in Rio, and when the Union ship, Captain P. from Boston, arrived, he bought around four hundred barrels of flour to load onto our vessel, which would have fetched a great price in Monte Video if our ship had reached that port.

Our captain was by birth a Dane, a large and corpulent man, a perpetual smoker, a great eater, drank nothing but water, talked but little and played admirably upon the piano forte, having one in his state room. He was a man of a most phlegmatic and easy temper, upon which fair weather or foul, bad luck or good, could make no perceptible impression. The slaves were freshly imported, untamed sons of Angola; the seamen, (Swedes and Englishmen) much like all other sailors, careless, illiterate, rough and honest. We were plentifully stocked with provisions and liquors of all kinds, such as wine, oranges, poultry, pigs, two goats for[26] milking, three monkies for mischief, a dog, a cat, and about twenty parrots and paraquitos. Thus comfortably provided, in the morning of the third of September, 1817, we were wafted out of the harbor by a cheering breeze from the land, in company with six or eight sail of large Portuguese Indiamen, two English ships for Lima, an English schooner for Monte Video, and an American ship (the Diomede, of Salem, Captain Page) for Buenos Ayres, and several coasting sumacos.

Our captain was a Dane by birth, a big and heavyset guy, a constant smoker, a big eater, who drank only water. He talked very little and played the piano beautifully, having one in his cabin. He had a super laid-back and easygoing personality, so whether the weather was nice or bad, and whether things were going well or poorly, it didn't really affect him. The slaves were recently brought in, wild sons of Angola; the seamen, (Swedes and Englishmen) were like all other sailors: careless, uneducated, rough, and honest. We had plenty of food and drinks of all kinds, including wine, oranges, poultry, pigs, two goats for milking, three monkeys for fun, a dog, a cat, and about twenty parrots and parakeets. So well-prepared, on the morning of September 3, 1817, we were carried out of the harbor by a pleasant breeze from the land, along with six or eight large Portuguese Indiamen, two English ships headed for Lima, an English schooner going to Monte Video, and an American ship (the Diomede, from Salem, Captain Page) bound for Buenos Ayres, along with several coastal sumacos.

The view of this part of the Coast of Brazil, near the entrance of this harbor is, perhaps, no where surpassed in point of majestic grandeur and beauty. The cloud capp’t—but of this in another place. Nothing of consequence occurred during the passage, till within about fifty leagues of the mouth of the La Plata. About ten, A. M., on the fourteenth of September, a man at work aloft arrested the dull, monotonous sounds of the winds and waves, by the cry of sail ho! It was the first time we had heard that ever welcome exclamation, and we were eager now to approach and hail the supposed vessel. The helmsman was directed to keep in a direct course for the sail. With a stiff breeze and fair wind we rapidly neared it, when it began to assume a different appearance—the sails and masts were no longer visible. The hull, however, was still plainly seen, and looked like the wreck of some large vessel, and some, by the help of glasses, affirmed they could distinctly perceive her broken[27] timbers. This was the general belief, nor were we undeceived till we were within hail of it, when the supposed hull of a foundered frigate, proved to be but the wreck of a prodigious South Atlantic whale! From his appearance, he had been dead a long while; he had opened, on the upper surface, his whole length, and presented an immense yawning breach, on each side of which, appeared his large ribs and bones. He lay in an inclined position, which prevented the swelling surge from entering and filling him, though it would dash in a foam around him; this gave him, even at a moderate distance, the appearance of a large wreck. A vast number of sea birds had alighted upon him, and with large shoals of various fish, were eagerly assisting to devour him.

The view of this part of the Brazilian Coast, near the entrance of the harbor, is perhaps unmatched in its majestic grandeur and beauty. The cloud-capped—more on that later. Nothing significant happened during the journey until we were about fifty leagues from the mouth of the La Plata. Around ten in the morning on September 14th, a worker high up called out, interrupting the dull, monotonous sounds of the wind and waves, “Sail ho!” It was the first time we had heard that welcome shout, and we were eager to approach and greet the supposed ship. The helmsman was instructed to head straight for the sail. With a stiff breeze and favorable winds, we quickly closed in on it, but then it started to look different—the sails and masts disappeared from view. The hull, however, was still clearly visible and resembled the wreck of a large vessel. Some, with the help of glasses, claimed they could distinctly see her broken timbers. This was the general belief, and we weren't corrected until we got within shouting distance, when the supposed hull of a foundered frigate turned out to be nothing but the wreck of an enormous South Atlantic whale! From its appearance, it had been dead for quite a while; it had split open along its entire length, revealing a massive gaping hole, with its large ribs and bones exposed on either side. It lay at an angle, which prevented the surging waves from entering and filling it, though foam crashed around it; this gave it, even from a distance, the look of a large wreck. A vast number of seabirds had landed on it, and along with large schools of various fish, were eagerly helping to devour it.

The next day we fell in with and spoke the English brig Mary, from Liverpool, bound to Buenos Ayres, seventy three days out. It being about meridian, with fair weather and smooth sea, we gave the captain an invitation to dine with us, which he accepted; and, accordingly, we backed topsails and lay too, the brig doing the same, when we lowered the boat from the stern, conducted him on board of us, hoisted up the boat, filled the sails again and then bore away. This commander was dressed, as English captains frequently are at sea, in a check shirt, short jacket, leather cap, and tarry trowsers. A novice could not have distinguished him from one of his crew; he was, however, sociable and friendly,[28] had brought a fine large Cheshire cheese with him, and took in return a half dozen of wine. The next day we lost sight of him, he being light and a faster sailer. The morning was rather hazy when we entered the river, which we knew we were in, by the changed color of the water. The land was soon plainly seen, stretching low from Cape St. Mary up the river, with the sandy beaches, trees, and hills. We passed Lobos, or Seal Island, about nine, A. M. These seals or sea wolves appeared at this time in greater numbers here, than I had ever seen them. We passed Moldonado, a small town, about eleven—continuing our course up the river with a light but fair wind, till towards sunset, when the fog still becoming more dense, the wind increasing and night approaching, it was determined to haul off shore for several miles, and thus gain an offing for anchorage during the night. We accordingly came to anchor about fifteen miles below Monte Video, our first destined port to the leeward of Flores, or Isle of Flowers—the wind now blowing fresh from the south east. At eight o’clock, the gale increasing very fast, we payed out a long scope of cable, and she seemed for the present to ride easy, and with much less straining. Between this time and nine o’clock, while supper was preparing below, and the crew in the forecastle, the captain and myself, with his inseparable solace, a cigar, were walking the quarter deck, balancing ourselves to the roll and plunges and lurches of the vessel;[29] conversing upon the events of the passage, the character of our passengers, and on the happy prospects of breakfasting next morning in Monte Video. In concluding the conversation, Captain S., after looking around upon the portentous sky and troubled waves, made the following memorable observation. ‘But keep a good look out to-night, Mr. F., and tend well the cable, for if we drive ashore here, we are all lost.’ We then descended the cabin, giving charge to the watch, and sat down with light and still happy hearts, to supper. Happy were we all in the idea of being so near the end of our voyage—but how unconscious that the supper we partook of, was the last to be taken, and that six brief hours should end the voyage of life with all, save one. Little, for my own part, did I dream of or presage its sad reality. I had formed plans, which, on shore with my adventurers, were brilliant in prospective, and I indulged in pleasing reveries. After the removal of the cloth, wine was passed around, and the cabin at this time presented a group of happy and expecting mortals, who, after the dangers of the ocean, and almost in hail of their homes, were congratulating themselves upon the fair prospect of the pleasures before them.

The next day we met up with the English brig Mary, from Liverpool, headed to Buenos Aires, seventy-three days out. It was around noon, with nice weather and calm seas, so we invited the captain to join us for dinner, and he accepted. We backed our topsails and stayed still, and the brig did the same. We lowered our boat from the back, brought him on board, hoisted the boat back up, filled the sails again, and then set off. This captain was dressed, as English captains often are at sea, in a checkered shirt, short jacket, leather cap, and tarry trousers. A newcomer wouldn’t have been able to tell him apart from his crew; however, he was friendly and sociable, brought along a large Cheshire cheese, and took away a half dozen bottles of wine in return. The next day, we lost sight of him since he was lighter and a faster vessel. The morning was a bit hazy when we entered the river, which we recognized by the change in water color. Soon we could clearly see land, stretching low from Cape St. Mary up the river, with sandy beaches, trees, and hills. We passed by Lobos, or Seal Island, around 9 A.M. These seals, or sea wolves, were more numerous than I had ever seen before. We passed the small town of Moldonado around eleven, continuing our route up the river with a light but favorable wind until sunset, when the fog grew denser, the wind picked up, and night approached. We decided to move away from the shore a few miles to find anchorage for the night. We anchored about fifteen miles below Montevideo, our first intended port south of Flores, or Isle of Flowers, with the wind now blowing fresh from the southeast. At eight o'clock, as the gale intensified quickly, we let out a long length of cable, and the vessel seemed to ride easier with much less strain. Between this time and nine o'clock, while supper was being prepared below and the crew was in the forecastle, the captain and I, along with his constant companion, a cigar, were walking the quarterdeck, adjusting ourselves to the roll and lurch of the ship, discussing the events of the voyage, the character of our passengers, and the exciting prospect of having breakfast in Montevideo the next morning. As we wrapped up our conversation, Captain S., after glancing at the ominous sky and choppy waves, made a memorable remark: "But keep a good lookout tonight, Mr. F., and watch the cable, because if we drive ashore here, we're all lost." We then went down to the cabin, left the watch in charge, and sat down with light and happy hearts for dinner. We were all glad to be so close to the end of our journey, completely unaware that the dinner we were having would be our last and that just six short hours would bring the journey of life to an end for all of us, except for one. Little did I expect or foresee that sad reality. I had made plans that seemed bright with my companions onshore, and I was lost in pleasant daydreams. After we cleared the table, wine was passed around, and at that time, the cabin was full of cheerful and hopeful people who, after the dangers of the ocean and almost at the threshold of their homes, were celebrating the good times that awaited them.

I ascended on deck, to observe the weather before I turned in. The gale still continued to increase—the ship pitching very heavily, plunging bows under, and wet from fore to aft by the sea and the spray. After seeing all snug, and leaving[30] the deck in charge of the officer of the watch, I descended, and turned into my hammock, stripping off only my outer great jacket. At twelve, midnight, after passing a sleepless and anxious watch below, with sensations as strange and uneasy as the laboring motions of the ship, I came upon deck to relieve the watch. I went forward and examined the cables at the hawse holes, to see if the canvas or service needed renewing from the chafing; and seeing all was well, I returned to the quarter deck, to the lead line. The watch which had been relieved, had retired and turned in, and myself, boatswain and four men, remained as the watch on deck. The ship was rolling and pitching most laborsome, as the weather current was very strong. ‘An uncomfortable night this, sir,’ said the boatswain, who was a great talker, ‘and infernal cold for a warm country—faith, I must button up my monkey, and secure my tarpaulin, if we are to stand this weather here on deck for four hours. Whew! this is a snorter; and we must keep well aft, or else a sea from over the bows there, will throw us off our legs, or a spray give us a drencher to freshen our eyelids. D—n her, how she jumps and pitches; well, for my part, give me a ship under sail, with the wind a-beam to steady her, instead of lying here at anchor, where she tumbles about like a chip in a frog pond.’ The moon was now about half an hour high. From the feeling of the lead, I was fearful that the ship had been, and was still fast drifting.[31] The motion of the vessel and strong current, prevented my knowing this to a certainty—while at the line, I observed an unusual white foam to the leeward, and remarked it to the boatswain. He replied, he thought it no more than the curling tops of the waves. Not satisfied with this, I went aft into the yawl over the stern, and was soon convinced they were that dread of sailors, breakers, and not far from us. I quickly went below, and awoke the captain, who was in a secure and profound sleep! by violently shaking him; and with a loud cry of ‘breakers!’ aroused the passengers. I then went forward to get ready another anchor, and several men were clearing the cable tier below. The captain had just gained the deck, when, at quarter past twelve, the vessel struck. The shock sunk upon the hearts of those on board, like the summons for sudden death—and with reason. All knew that while the ship rode clear of the ground, they were in safety; but the moment she struck, their minutes were numbered, and death inevitable. Those below were directly alarmed by the shock, and hurried affrighted to the deck. Another blow soon followed—then another, and another, still more heavy. A heavy sea soon struck over the bows, and knocked down several seamen, and obliged them to retreat to the quarter deck. The seas began now to break over the whole weather side, and all were palsied with horror on looking around at the awful, prospect—the tremendous surge, and the fate which[32] could not be shunned. The passengers and seamen had all reached the deck, excepting the carpenter, who lay sick in his hammock in the steerage—some, in nothing but their shirts, and all half dressed, or with some clothes in their hands. On seeing their perilous situation, the clothes were dropped, and they secured their hold to the rigging—the ship continually striking. The captain ordered the steward to secure some articles in the cabin; he descended, but soon came up with the dismal tidings that every thing was adrift and the cabin full of water. ‘Cut away the masts! cut away the masts!’ he then cried out. I went forward to the carpenter’s chest; I asked several for the axe. ‘We don’t know of any axe, sir,’ was the answer. ‘Lord have mercy upon us.’ The seas now forced all to secure their holds. Young Summers had gained the weather main shrouds, nearly naked and drenched by every sea. ‘Fracker, where are you,’ he exclaimed, in a voice of despair. ‘Here am I, Frank,’ I replied, holding on with the rest—‘God only can help us now.’ One sailor alone, delirious with horror that stupified others, was loud in his cries of despair. Irritated at such cowardice in one who had been a bullying, boisterous fellow, I told him hastily to stop his clamors, and not thus to discourage others; that if he wished to save himself, it must be by exertion, and not lamentation; and that the ship could, possibly, hold together till day-light. But the others stood inanimate; and despair and horror at their[33] inevitable fate, deprived them of all motion, speech or sensation of danger. The seas at this time were making complete cataracts over every part of the ship, and perceiving I should soon have to commit myself to the waves, I threw off my pea jacket and hat into the sea. Most of the crew and passengers were holding firmly on the different parts of the quarter deck, and three or four naked, shivering wretches, had ventured partly up the shrouds, clinging with ghastly looks to the ropes, as their last hold, from which the merciless waves were tearing them in succession, and they were instantly overwhelmed and buried in their bosoms.

I went up on deck to check the weather before going to bed. The storm was still getting stronger—the ship was rocking heavily, plunging its bow underwater, and getting soaked from front to back by the sea and spray. After making sure everything was secure and leaving the deck in the hands of the officer on watch, I went below and climbed into my hammock, taking off only my outer jacket. At midnight, after a restless and anxious watch below, feeling as uneasy as the ship’s movements, I came back on deck to take over the watch. I went forward to check the cables at the hawse holes, to see if the canvas or service needed to be replaced due to wear; seeing that everything was fine, I returned to the quarterdeck with the lead line. The watch that had been relieved had gone below to sleep, so it was just me, the boatswain, and four men on deck. The ship was rolling and pitching a lot because the current was very strong. “This is an uncomfortable night, sir,” said the boatswain, who loved to talk, “and it’s freezing for a warm country—man, I need to button up my jacket and secure my tarpaulin if we’re staying out here for four hours. Whew! This is rough; we need to stay well back, or a wave from the bow will knock us off our feet, or spray will soak us and wake us up. Damn her, how she jumps and pitches; I’d prefer a ship under sail, with the wind on the side to steady her, instead of being stuck here at anchor, where she’s tossing around like a piece of wood in a pond.” The moon was about half an hour high. From feeling the lead, I was worried that the ship had been and was still drifting. The movement of the vessel and the strong current made it hard to be sure—while I was at the line, I saw unusual white foam off to the side and pointed it out to the boatswain. He replied that he thought it was just the tops of the waves curling. Not satisfied with that, I went to the yawl at the stern and quickly realized they were the terrible breakers that sailors fear, and they were not far from us. I hurried below and woke the captain, who was in a deep sleep, by shaking him hard and shouting “breakers!” to wake the passengers. I then went forward to get another anchor ready, while several men were clearing the cable tier below. The captain had just reached the deck when, at a quarter past twelve, the vessel hit something. The shock fell upon everyone on board like a sudden death sentence—and for good reason. Everyone knew that as long as the ship floated, they were safe; but the moment she struck, their time was limited, and death was inevitable. The people below were immediately alarmed by the impact and rushed frightened to the deck. Another blow soon came—then another, and still another, each heavier than the last. A massive wave struck hard over the bow, knocking down several crew members and forcing them to retreat to the quarterdeck. Waves started crashing over the entire weather side, and everyone was paralyzed with horror as they looked around at the awful sight—the tremendous surge and the fate that they couldn’t escape. All the passengers and sailors had made it to the deck except for the carpenter, who was sick in his hammock below—some were in nothing but their shirts, and all were half-dressed or clutching some clothes. Seeing their perilous situation, they dropped whatever clothes they had and grabbed onto the rigging as the ship kept striking. The captain ordered the steward to secure some belongings in the cabin; he went down, but soon returned with the grim news that everything was adrift and the cabin was flooded. “Cut away the masts! Cut away the masts!” he then shouted. I rushed to the carpenter’s chest and asked several people for an axe. “We don’t know of any axe, sir,” was the answer. “Lord, have mercy on us.” The waves now forced everyone to hold on tight. Young Summers had climbed up the weather main shrouds, nearly naked and drenched by every wave. “Fracker, where are you?” he called out in despair. “I’m here, Frank,” I replied, hanging on with the others—“Only God can help us now.” One sailor, overcome with fear that paralyzed the others, was crying out in despair. Annoyed at such cowardice from someone who had always been a loud, brash guy, I quickly told him to stop his shouting and not to discourage everyone else; I said that if he wanted to save himself, it had to be through effort, not lamenting, and that perhaps the ship could hold together until dawn. But the others remained frozen; despair and horror at their unavoidable fate left them motionless, speechless, and oblivious to the danger. Waves were crashing completely over every part of the ship, and realizing I would soon have to surrender myself to the sea, I threw my pea jacket and hat into the water. Most of the crew and passengers were gripping various parts of the quarterdeck, and three or four shivering, naked souls had ventured partially up the shrouds, clinging to the ropes with terrified expressions as their last hope, while the ruthless waves tore them away one by one, overwhelming and burying them.

From the time she had first struck, the sea had so completely burst over us, that it rendered every effort of endeavoring to help ourselves, useless and dangerous—in our first intentions of cutting the cables, making some sail, or, at the worst, to cut away the masts, and driving as fast as possible on shore. Such, indeed, was its sudden violence, that nothing was soon thought of but to attempt to hold on as long as possible, and all other efforts were impracticable and abandoned. Ten or twelve of us, at this time, were holding on to the weather quarter rail; every sea, a solid body of water, to which at its approach we presented our bare heads, would immediately wash us off our legs horizontally, at arm’s length, and the comrade at my side, with several others, were torn from their grasp, and hurled and buried amid the wreck and water.

From the moment the storm hit, the sea crashed over us so violently that any attempt to save ourselves was pointless and dangerous. We initially thought about cutting the cables, rigging a sail, or, as a last resort, cutting down the masts to push ourselves toward shore as fast as we could. The sudden intensity of the waves made it clear that the only option was to hold on for as long as possible; all other efforts were impractical and abandoned. At that point, about ten or twelve of us were clinging to the weather quarter rail. Every wave, a solid mass of water, would strike us with such force that we had to present our bare heads to it, and it would instantly knock us off our feet, sending us flying horizontally. My companion beside me, along with several others, was ripped from our grip and swallowed up in the wreckage and the water.

[34]

[34]

Finding it impossible to stand this suffocating drenching any longer, and my arms weak from such powerful stretching, I watched my chance, after a prodigious surge roared over me, loosed my hold, seized the mizen backstay, climbed over the heads of some who were clinging to the rigging, and happily gained the mizen top, advising the rest to follow, as I was certain no man could stand the force of such terrific seas five minutes longer. Here, in the mizen top, in the interval of the ship’s striking, I fell to thrashing myself, and preparing for the waves. My body and limbs had become much benumbed, from the severe drenching below, and my feet were entirely without feeling. I took off my shoes and began to beat the soles of my feet with them; by which means, and by violently thrashing my body with my arms, I succeeded, at last, in circulating the blood, and rendering myself once more warm. While aloft, I drew out my knife and cut away the gaskets which confined the mizen topsail, wishing, by this, to drive her further towards the shore, which I could not yet discover. I also succeeded in cutting away several of the lanyards of the topmast rigging, hoping that the topmast might go over and leave the mizenmast standing till the last, to hold on to; but this was unavailing, as the keel having been beat off, the masts ultimately gave way in the steps.

Finding it impossible to endure the suffocating drenching any longer, and my arms weak from such intense strain, I watched for my chance. After a massive wave surged over me, I lost my grip, grabbed the mizen backstay, climbed over some people clinging to the rigging, and happily reached the mizen top, urging the others to follow, as I was sure no one could withstand the force of those terrible seas for another five minutes. Here, in the mizen top, while waiting for the ship to hit, I started thrashing around and preparing for the waves. My body and limbs had gone numb from the harsh soaking below, and I couldn't feel my feet at all. I took off my shoes and began to hit the soles of my feet with them; through this, and by forcefully thrashing my body with my arms, I finally got my blood circulating and warmed up again. While up there, I pulled out my knife and cut away the gaskets that held the mizen topsail, hoping this would push the ship further toward the shore, which I still couldn't see. I also managed to cut several of the lanyards from the topmast rigging, hoping that the topmast would fall over and leave the mizenmast standing until the end, so I could hang on. But this was pointless, as the keel had been smashed off, and the masts eventually gave way in their steps.

I looked down below, and beheld, with varied emotions, and not without a degree of painful pleasure,[35] a shipwreck, in which the fearful and the sublime were strongly blended. It was a sight from which I could not wish to avert my eyes, though I would have given worlds, at the same moment, for a foothold of safety. Holding on to the topmast rigging, and bending over the top, I watched, with straining eyes, the scene of death and destruction, so busily and clamorously carried on beneath me. Of those whom I had left grasping the quarter rail, I saw the three last washed from their holds, who soon met death. The mainmast having topgallant yard across, likewise fell over the side, and unluckily the wrong side, being to windward, off shore, which I was sorry to see, the ship laying broadside to the waves, and heeled much to windward. The moon had not yet set, and though obscured, enabled me to see, distinctly, the dire effects of the tempest. The long boat was forced from her head gripes and fastenings, and forced round, end on, to the sea; a second wave struck her stern, and instantly her fragments and contents were thrown beyond me, and the small boat, astern, instantly after, followed, borne on the top of a sea, with all her appendage of davils, tackles and lashings. The foremast, I imagined, would now speedily fall, as from its rolling I supposed its step was gone, as the ship beat heaviest at the fore part; but on the contrary, I soon found myself going over with the mizen mast, which fell and carried me along with it. I was plunged into the sea, and received a few[36] scratches and bruises, but happily extricated myself from beneath the ropes, got round the top, and crawling down by the upper rigging, with difficulty regained the ship.

I looked down and, with mixed emotions, not without some painful pleasure,[35] I saw a shipwreck where fear and beauty were strongly mixed. It was a sight I couldn’t look away from, even though I would have traded anything for a safe place to stand. Holding onto the topmast rigging and leaning over, I watched the scene of death and destruction playing out below me. Of the people I had seen grasping the quarter rail, I watched the last three get washed away, soon meeting their end. The mainmast, with the topgallant yard across it, also fell over the side, unfortunately on the wrong side, away from shore. I was sad to see the ship laying broadside to the waves, heavily tilted to windward. The moon hadn’t set yet and, although obscured, it allowed me to clearly see the devastating effects of the storm. The longboat was ripped from its attachments and flipped around, facing the sea; a second wave hit her stern, and instantly her pieces and contents were tossed away from me, followed quickly by the small boat at the back, riding on top of a wave with all its gear, tackles, and lashings. I thought the foremast would soon fall as it rolled, suggesting its step was lost, with the ship heavily battered at the front; however, I soon found myself going over with the mizen mast, which collapsed and dragged me along. I was plunged into the sea and received a few[36] scratches and bruises, but luckily managed to free myself from the ropes, made it around the top, and crawled down the upper rigging, finally getting back to the ship with great difficulty.

I was now beset on all sides with conflicting timber, but was happily well aware of the danger that threatened me. I found every plank of the main deck washed off and in pieces—the bulwarks stripped and gone fore and aft, and pipes of wine, tierces, barrels of flour and kegs of butter, hencoops, crates and spars, added to the general wreck. In jumping from the rail to gain the lee side, I fell among this ruin, but had hitherto felt only one or two severe bruises. A tremendous wave now broke over the quarter, and sweeping every thing before, carried me along with some large spars forward, when my right leg was struck by one of them, and jambed in between that and a deck beam, at the joint of the knee, which was instantly crushed, and held as in a vice, immoveable. My situation was now for two minutes most critical, and frightfully dismaying—another sea was roaring towards me. The blow I received had almost severed my limb, though I felt no pain. The next minute the surrounding timber would infallibly be washed in a storm around my head and body, and I momently expected it. By a providential rise of the water, I was enabled to catch hold of the lee rail, screwed out my leg, dodged under the rail, tumbled into the sea, and the wave roared harmless over my head![37] I did this, not in the hope of reaching the shore, for I thought, indeed, it was not within many miles; but resolving to hasten my end, and preferring to die in the open sea, and especially to avoid a death by piecemeal—by crushing now and then a joint or a limb. I had heard the groans of two or three others, and among them, the voice of the commander; their bones, probably, mostly broken, who had escaped being carried off by the waves, and who were, I presumed, but just alive. These, I believed, were all that still remained of this ill-fated company. After I had plunged into the sea, and rose, I held on, for a moment, to the upper timbers, which were all that was left of the ship, and those loosening, to recover breath. I soon quitted and began to strip, which was a difficult operation for a person in my then situation, as my leg hung down, like a rope, useless in the water, and I had on a thick jacket, two pair of duck trowsers, and neckerchief, a black Barcelona. While effecting this, some one, (and the only one I discovered) clinging to the timbers, was suddenly washed from his hold, and extending his arms, his right hand came in contact with my neckerchief, which he convulsively grasped, and we sunk together! Pushed for breath myself, it was no time for ceremony—the next hold I perhaps could not disengage, and an attempt to assist him would only ensure certain death to both; I therefore quickly pulled the end of my neckerchief, the knot being fortunately with a bow, and he sunk[38] with it in his hand, and the waves closed over him forever. I presumed he was a passenger, from his white shirt, and from his stout appearance, the Senior Monasteria or Mr. Tiernay. While under water, I in a moment stripped, and again rose to the surface, divested of all covering but my shirt. My leg, I felt, was powerless, and in stripping off my trowsers, the twisting of it gave a degree of pain, besides which, I had several scratches and bruises; through these, the chilling coldness of the water struck to the heart.

I was now surrounded by conflicting debris, but I was thankfully aware of the danger I was in. I found that every plank of the main deck was washed away and broken— the sides stripped and missing both fore and aft, and there were pipes of wine, barrels of flour, kegs of butter, chicken coops, crates, and spars, all contributing to the wreckage. While jumping from the rail to reach the sheltered side, I landed in the chaos but had only felt one or two serious bruises up to that point. A massive wave then crashed over the side, sweeping everything away and dragging me along with some large spars until one hit my right leg, pinning it between a spar and a deck beam at my knee joint, which was instantly crushed and trapped tightly. For two minutes, my situation was incredibly critical and terrifying—another wave was rushing toward me. The impact had nearly severed my leg, yet I felt no pain. I was anticipating the surrounding debris to wash around my head and body at any moment. By a stroke of luck, the water rose, allowing me to grab the sheltered rail. I freed my leg, ducked under the rail, fell into the sea, and the wave crashed harmlessly over my head![37] I didn’t do this hoping to reach the shore, as I believed it was miles away; I was determined to speed up my demise, preferring to die in the open sea rather than slowly by losing a joint or limb at a time. I had heard the groans of a few others, including the commander; their bones likely mostly broken, they had managed to survive being swept away by the waves and I assumed they were barely alive. These seemed to be all that were left of this doomed crew. After plunging into the sea and resurfacing, I held on for a moment to the remaining upper timbers of the ship, loosening my grip to catch my breath. I soon let go and began to strip, which was a tough task given my situation, as my leg dangled like a useless rope in the water, and I was wearing a thick jacket, two pairs of duck trousers, and a black Barcelona neckerchief. While trying to do this, I noticed someone else— the only other person I saw— clinging to the timbers was suddenly washed away. As he reached out, his right hand grabbed my neckerchief, and we sunk together! Struggling for air myself, I didn’t have time to be polite— my next grip might be my last, and trying to help him would only guarantee death for both of us; so I quickly pulled the end of my neckerchief, which luckily had a bow knot, and he sank with it in his hand as the waves swallowed him forever. I figured he was a passenger, given his white shirt and sturdy appearance, probably Senior Monasteria or Mr. Tiernay. While underwater, I quickly stripped and surfaced with nothing but my shirt left on. I felt that my leg was useless, and taking off my trousers twisted it, causing some pain; on top of that, I had several scratches and bruises, through which the icy coldness of the water chilled me to the core.

When a boy, I was an expert swimmer; and when arrived at manhood, could jump from the gunwale of a ship, fully clad, strip while doubling the keel, and come up the other side with my clothes under my arm. No one that I had met with, possessed the faculty of retaining breath, and withholding the respiration for so long a period. But in this case, swimming, even with able and untired limbs, was wholly useless in a sea so heavy; and efforts to keep my head above water was all I could hope for. The moon had now gone down, and committing myself to God, I then pushed off from the wreck, to be thrown by the surge where his providence should impel. With two arms and a leg, I kept before the wind, and every sea would wash far over my head; I resolved, therefore, to seize hold of the first large substance I should encounter, and gain breath, of which I was very short. I soon fastened upon a bale of goods, but it being wet and heavy, I[39] relinquished it, as every sea rolled over it, and I quitted it nearly exhausted. I saw numberless pieces of the wreck, and was in constant danger of being struck by some, which I repeatedly avoided by paddling from and diving, which the prodigious seas wholly overwhelmed. I stood this hard buffeting for about a dozen seas, and nature was fast retreating from the conflict, being desperately pushed for breath, as I could draw but little in the short intervals of the waves. I had now been nearly half an hour in the water, and nearly half the time below it; I had withstood, beyond my hopes, this war of elements, but my breath now became harder and quicker—I felt a suffocation and strangling—I turned and faced the waves in despair—I gasped twice, with a convulsive leap—another sea swept over me—I saw death inevitable, terrible, and face to face! I had but time, involuntarily, but audibly, to repeat the ejaculation, ‘Lord Jesus receive my spirit,’ and sunk in unshaken faith, that till the last trump should summon all hands, I should rise no more! My senses with my breath, also forsook me; and for a moment my mind was filled with the most singular and delightful sensations, apparently in an enrapturing dream. This, however, was as momentary as it was wonderful. I cannot imagine by what means, whether from the chill of the water, the pain of my wounds, or by the violence of a wave that then broke over me, but I was soon brought to my senses, and rose to the surface evidently refreshed.[40] Thy hand, O God, was here! On looking around, I distinctly discovered, as if supernaturally thrown in my way, something large and light, for it kept constantly above the waves. I exerted my remaining strength, and reached it; it was a large crate, empty of all but straw. Into this, I firmly clenched my fingers, and soon recovered breath, as its buoyancy kept it high above the seas. Five minutes of this eventful night, I never think of but with sentiments of amazement and gratitude.—While in the act of sinking, as I supposed, for the last time, the crowd of recollections, and the rapid succession of thoughts thronged my brain almost to bursting, I, who two hours before, was in health, happiness and security, now found myself in the midst of darkness, danger and death, encompassed with the merciless element, without a gleam of hope, and momently expecting to enter that unknown world, ‘with all my imperfections on my head.’ The crate to which I had so fortunately attached myself, I have reason to believe, was the only thing, by the assistance of which, I could save my life. Keeping my hold of this, and constantly turning it round as my weight pulled it over towards me, I still kept courage, and dropped myself frequently down under water as far as I could stretch at arm’s length, without quitting my hold, with the earnest hope of touching the bottom, but without success. I was much fatigued from exertion and anxiety, and could scarcely continue my hold upon the crate,[41] for every sea would sweep us at least ten feet before it, and I began to despair of any land being near, and was fearful that the ship had been wrecked upon a shoal; still, however, holding on the crate, as I felt it my only hope, and knew if I lost that I was lost indeed! Drifting along with hopeless indifference, I was beginning to droop in despair; and overcome with exertion, I felt a lethargy creeping over me, and resolved, with a last effort, to arouse my drowsy spirits, and by violently shaking the crate, shook myself, and looking around, I was surprised and animated, to find an uncommon lull and subsiding of the swelling surge—I was once more alive, for I was inside the breakers! I again quickly dropped myself down, eagerly stretching my limbs to the utmost length, and with my toe touched the bottom! I felt it was of sand, and in a few minutes more I got up to about breast high in the water, and shoving myself forward by leg and arms, soon crawled out of the surf upon the beach.

When I was a boy, I was a great swimmer; and by the time I became a man, I could jump off the side of a ship fully dressed, dive underwater, and come up on the other side with my clothes under my arm. No one I met had the ability to hold their breath and stay underwater for such a long time. But in this situation, even with strong and unstressed limbs, swimming was useless in such rough seas; all I could do was try to keep my head above water. The moon had set now, and with a prayer to God, I pushed away from the wreck, letting the waves carry me where they would. With two arms and one leg, I faced the wind, but every wave came crashing over my head; so I decided to grab onto the first large object I came across to catch my breath, which I desperately needed. I soon clung to a bale of goods, but it was wet and heavy, and I let it go as waves kept rolling over me, leaving me nearly exhausted. I spotted countless pieces of debris from the wreck and was constantly in danger of being hit by them, which I avoided many times by paddling and diving, though the massive waves completely overwhelmed me. I endured this relentless pounding for about a dozen waves, and my strength was quickly fading; I could barely catch my breath between the waves. I had been in the water for nearly half an hour, almost half of that time underwater; I had endured more than I thought possible in this battle against the elements, but my breathing became more difficult and rapid—I felt as if I was suffocating. I turned to face the waves in despair—I gasped twice, struggling to breathe; another wave crashed over me, and I saw death looming, inevitable and terrifying, right in front of me! I had just enough time, almost involuntarily, to mutter, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit," before sinking with unwavering faith, believing that until the last trumpet calls, I would rise no more! My senses, along with my breath, abandoned me; for a moment, I was filled with the most strange and lovely feelings, almost like being in a captivating dream. However, this was as brief as it was amazing. I can't say if it was the cold of the water, the pain of my injuries, or the force of a wave that crashed over me, but I quickly regained my senses and resurfaced, noticeably refreshed. Your hand, O God, was here! Looking around, I clearly saw something large and light, apparently supernaturally placed in my path, as it stayed above the waves. I used my remaining strength and reached it; it was a large crate, empty except for some straw. I gripped it tightly and soon regained my breath, as its buoyancy kept it above the waves. I will always think of those five minutes of that fateful night with amazement and gratitude. While I thought I was sinking for the last time, a flood of memories and rapid thoughts filled my mind to the brink; I, who two hours earlier had been healthy, happy, and secure, now found myself engulfed in darkness, danger, and death, surrounded by the merciless sea, with no hope in sight, expecting to enter that unknown place “with all my imperfections on my head.” I believe that the crate I had so luckily clung to was the only reason I could have saved my life. Keeping my grip on it and constantly turning it as my weight pushed it over to me, I still held my courage and went underwater as far as I could stretch, hoping to reach the bottom, though without success. I was extremely tired from the effort and anxiety, and I could barely hold on to the crate, as every wave would pull us at least ten feet forward, and I started to lose hope of finding land nearby, fearing the ship had wrecked on a sandbar. Still, I clung to the crate, knowing it was my only chance, realizing that if I lost it, I was truly lost! Drifting along with a sense of hopelessness, I began to give in to despair; overcome with exhaustion, I felt a heaviness setting in and decided, in one last effort, to awaken my weary spirits. I shook the crate violently, which jarred me awake, and looking around, I was shocked and excited to find the waves had calmed and the swells were subsiding—I was alive again, for I was inside the breakers! I quickly dove down again, eagerly stretching my limbs, and I felt my toe touch the bottom! It was sandy, and in just a few more minutes, I found myself standing up to my chest in the water, pushing myself forward with my arms and legs, and soon crawled out of the surf onto the beach.

Thus, after being more than half an hour in the water, and making my way for nearly three quarters of a mile, through a raging sea, at midnight, I was at last thrown upon a desert beach, certain that no one could have reached a cable’s length from the ship, which in an hour and a half after she first struck, was scattered in pieces on the strand. Some idea may be had of the violence of the elements, from the fact that not a single mast came on shore unbroken, nor a timber as big as the windlass;[42] and out of twenty three souls, among whom were four stout African slaves, whose constant habit of swimming renders them almost amphibious, only one body was thrown on shore that night; the remainder, buried by the first wave, came not on shore till nine days afterwards.

Thus, after spending more than half an hour in the water and making my way for nearly three-quarters of a mile through a raging sea at midnight, I finally washed up on a deserted beach, sure that no one could have made it even a cable’s length from the ship, which, an hour and a half after it first hit, was broken into pieces on the shore. You can get an idea of the force of the elements from the fact that not a single mast made it to shore intact, nor any timber as large as the windlass;[42] and out of twenty-three people, including four strong African slaves whose constant swimming makes them almost amphibious, only one body was washed ashore that night; the rest, buried by the first wave, didn’t come ashore until nine days later.

Amazed and nearly stunned, on reaching the beach, I attempted, unconsciously, to stand, but my leg refused its office, and I fell backwards to the ground and was much hurt by the fall, which caused the blood to ooze from several wounds. Half frantic with pain and the severe chill of the weather, a groan, as I lay extended on the earth, for once escaped me. I groaned and wished for death; I could then, I believe, have met him without fear—not as the king of terrors, but the messenger of mercy; I considered the fate of my companions happier far than my own, for their sufferings, though severe, were momentary, while mine, perhaps, were to be protracted, till struggling nature, slowly giving way, sunk under misery at its utmost stretch. Torments so acute I determined not to endure; the dreaded alternative was therefore soon chosen, and I resolved to put an end to my existence by the first means chance should throw in my power. I had many reasons to urge me to this desperate act. The country around me, I believed from experience on the opposite shore, was barren and desolate, without inhabitants for a great distance, impenetrable from swamps and shrubbery, with no chance of being[43] discovered; the cold was to my body deadly and fearful, and not being able to move without torture, I should not certainly, unsheltered, survive till the morning. The moon had set long since, and I was now in almost palpable darkness, and I could have seen no object, though my eyelids brushed it. Raising myself up at last, I slowly drew myself out of the surf, by hitching myself backwards. I was seated on the sand, with my hand groping around me, and felt hoops, or something bulky, and found, to my surprise, a pipe of wine. I had not left the ship too soon, for here was the lowest tier of the cargo on shore before me. Impelled by pain and despair, I was several times on the point of knocking my head against it and dashing out my brains, but as often hesitated, doubting only my strength to give one sufficient blow. A sad dilemma—but God was with me. A second thought most happily struck me; the cask was large, and sufficient to contain me, if I could possibly stave in the head, and lying end to the wind, would prove a complete shelter from the dreaded cold.

Amazed and almost stunned, when I reached the beach, I tried to stand up but my leg didn't cooperate, and I fell backward to the ground, injuring myself in the process, which caused blood to ooze from several wounds. In pain and shivering from the cold, I let out a groan while lying on the earth. I groaned and wished for death; at that moment, I felt I could face it without fear—not as the king of fears, but as a messenger of mercy. I thought my companions' fates were much happier than mine because their suffering, although intense, was temporary, while mine might drag on until my body finally succumbed to its utmost misery. The pain was so sharp that I decided I wouldn't endure it any longer; I soon chose the desperate option and resolved to end my life by whatever means came my way. I had many reasons to push me toward this act of despair. From my previous experiences on the opposite shore, I believed the surrounding land was barren and desolate, uninhabited for miles, covered by swamps and brush, making it impossible to be found; the cold was life-threatening, and since I couldn't move without pain, I wouldn't survive the night without shelter. The moon had set long ago, and I was now in almost complete darkness, unable to see anything even if it was right in front of me. Finally managing to lift myself up, I pulled myself out of the surf by inching backward. I sat on the sand, feeling around me, and touched something large and bulky, discovering to my surprise a pipe of wine. I hadn't left the ship too soon, as this was the lowest tier of cargo that had washed ashore. Driven by pain and despair, I was on the verge of smashing my head against it to end my life, but I hesitated each time, unsure if I had the strength for a decisive blow. It was a sad predicament—but God was with me. An idea suddenly came to me; the cask was large enough to shelter me if I could manage to break in, and if I lay with it facing away from the wind, it would provide a complete refuge from the biting cold.

Thus it pleased Providence, that the intended instrument of death, should be the very means of my preservation! Hope once more brightened and gave me triple vigor. Groping still farther along, I felt, for I truly could see nothing about me, several sticks of heavy Brazil wood, dunnage to the pipes, and taking up one, I got round to the upper head, and by repeated strokes, made a breach and[44] broke, with strength that surprised me, the middle head stave. The wine burst out, I applied my mouth and drank some of it, and then continued my strokes with renewed force. A few more blows stove the head at last entirely in; the wine burst over me, the touch of which, to my frozen carcase, was electric and most agreeable. I took up two pieces of the head staves and placed them in the bottom or bilge of the cask, to make it even and level, and then crawled in. The interior felt to my body like an oven. I had, during all this time, been at work partly in the water, at the edge of the surf, which now flowed in upon me at every wave, and kept me constantly throwing it out with my left hand, as I lay in the water on my back as the least painful position. This labor I was obliged to continue the remainder of the night, till towards morning; when the wind somewhat abated, the tide ebbed, and the surf retreating, no longer kept me bailing; I was, however, too exhausted to remove. At day break I looked out of the cask, and beheld a long sandy beach, covered to a great extent on each side of me with the fragments of the wreck, but not a vestige of the ship as long as the pump, or any thing moving, excepting the gulls. In fact, I was assured, on first reaching the shore, that no mortal alone could make his way through such seas, in such a night, to the land. My own preservation I considered as little short of a miracle. A shipwreck so sudden, an escape so singular, the uproar[45] I had witnessed, and the sight now before me, my scattered senses could scarce conceive real. For some time I actually doubted myself awake, for it seemed like a horrible dream. I then again composed myself in the cask, and owing to pain, the fumes of the wine and great exertion, I remained, during the whole of this day, nearly insensible, and in a trance-like stupor. Towards sunset I was fearful of being carried away by the return of the tide, during the approaching night, with the pipe in this dangerous situation; I therefore reluctantly crawled out of the cask, and holding up my useless leg from trailing on the ground, and hitching myself backward with my right hand, gained at last the foot of a sand hill further up the beach. I worked myself up on this as high as my strength would permit, to be free from the reach of the sea; and as night was now darkening around, I looked anxiously and in vain, for some kind of hole into which to crawl. Finding no refuge above ground, I was constrained to seek one below it. With a heavy heart, I dug a bed in the sand, into which I crept, and with my lacerated leg undermost, raking the sand over me, laid down, expecting only to rise ‘when the last trump should rouse me with its warning.’ The sand and my shirt were my only covering; the weather was extremely cold, and during the night it rained and stormed as hard as ever. The wet sand drifting around in smothering showers, covered every part of me, filling at every blast, my hair,[46] eyes, nose and mouth, kept me constantly spitting it out to prevent suffocation, while the cold often compelled me to sit up and thrash myself to prevent the chill of death. About midnight, in hopes of better avoiding the wintry wind, I resolved to shift my position, and try to get under the lee, or into some hollow on the other side of the hill. I accordingly crawled some distance, I knew not wither, owing to extreme darkness, and made another hole; then thrashing my arms for some time, again ventured to lay down, covering myself, as before, with sand, to resist the cold. Such was my bed, and such the manner in which I passed another night, and stood the ‘pelting of the pitiless storm.’

Thus, it pleased Fate that the very tool intended for my death became the means of my survival! Hope brightened my spirit again and gave me renewed strength. As I continued feeling my way in the dark, I found several heavy sticks of Brazil wood, which were used to support the pipes. I picked one up, made my way to the upper head, and with repeated strikes, I managed to break through and, surprisingly with strength I didn’t know I had, broke the middle head stave. The wine poured out, and I drank some before I resumed striking with renewed vigor. A few more hits finally smashed the head completely; the wine spilled over me, and the touch of it against my frozen body felt electrifying and incredibly pleasant. I took two pieces of the broken staves and laid them in the bottom of the cask to level it off, then crawled inside. The inside felt like an oven against my skin. During all this time, I had been working partly in the water, at the edge of the surf, which kept washing over me with each wave, requiring me to constantly bail it out with my left hand while lying on my back, the least painful position. I was forced to keep this up for the rest of the night until just before dawn; when the wind calmed down a bit, the tide went out, and the surf stopped forcing me to bail. However, I was too worn out to move. At daybreak, I peeked out of the cask and saw a long sandy beach, littered with wreckage on either side, but not a trace of the ship or anything moving, except for the seagulls. In fact, I was told upon reaching the shore that no one could survive such seas and such a night to reach the land alone. I thought my survival was nothing short of a miracle. A shipwreck so sudden, an escape so unique, the chaos I had witnessed, and the sight before me seemed almost unreal to my scattered senses. For a while, I honestly doubted I was awake; it all felt like a terrible dream. I settled back into the cask, and due to pain, the effects of the wine, and great exertion, I spent the entire day nearly unconscious, in a stupor. As sunset approached, I worried about being swept away by the tide during the coming night, with the cask in such a dangerous position; so, reluctantly, I crawled out of it, lifting my useless leg off the ground and dragging myself backward with my right hand until I finally reached the foot of a sand hill further up the beach. I pulled myself up as high as I could manage to escape the sea’s reach, and as night closed in, I anxiously searched in vain for a place to crawl into for shelter. Finding no refuge above ground, I felt forced to dig one below. With a heavy heart, I dug a bed in the sand, crawled in with my wounded leg underneath, covered myself with sand, and lay down, expecting to rise only “when the last trumpet should rouse me with its warning.” The sand and my shirt were my only coverings; it was extremely cold, and throughout the night, it rained and stormed harder than ever. The wet sand drifted in smothering showers, covering me completely, filling my hair, eyes, nose, and mouth with grit, forcing me to constantly spit it out to avoid suffocating, while the cold often made me sit up and thrash about to fend off the chill of death. Around midnight, hoping to shield myself from the biting wind, I decided to change my position and try to find some shelter on the other side of the hill. I crawled a distance, not knowing where due to the pitch darkness, and made another hole; then, after flailing my arms for a while to get warm, I tried lying down again, covering myself with sand like before to combat the cold. That was my bed and the way I passed another night, enduring the “pelting of the pitiless storm.”

In the morning I looked around and observed I had got over to the other side of the hillock, in sight of a low, marshy country, intermixed with low shrubbery, but saw no sign of habitation or cattle. I then took a survey of myself, and I truly looked like nothing human, or in the likeness of any thing upon earth or the waters beneath. My wounds were filled with sand, as were also my eyebrows, hair, beard and whiskers; my leg swelled to the plumpness of a wool sack, my left wrist out of joint, and the hand swelled and wholly useless; my feet were swelled and wrinkled like tripe, from remaining so long in the water, and painful from several wounds;[1] and a ragged shirt, torn in my struggles,[47] scantily covered a body discolored and sadly disfigured; I was, indeed, a figure too shocking even to excite pity, too disabled to excite fear, and too monstrous for any sensation but astonishment. I descended the slope of the hill and entered among the bushes that grew around, and slowly moved along for some time, till I espied at some distance, through the grass, a low hollow, that I thought might contain water, for my thirst was intolerable. In half an hour, resting at intervals, I reached it, and found, to my great joy, that I was not deceived; it was water! clear and tempting; but the difficulty was to get at it. I at first tried several different plans to get my mouth to the brook, for my limbs were too lame and stiff to bend. At last, by laying at length on the grass and rolling up to it, I succeeded. It was the most delicious draught I ever tasted! I drank an immoderate quantity, breathed awhile, and drank once more, not knowing when I should drink again. Looking about me, I saw nothing but what indicated a barren and inhospitable waste; I was therefore compelled to wend my way over the sand, and return to my old abode; a tedious and difficult task, which, however, I surmounted, and reached the beach about noon. The weather was still inauspicious and cloudy, the gale not much abated, and the sea continued to roar.

In the morning, I looked around and realized I had made it to the other side of the hill, where I could see a low, marshy area mixed with low shrubs, but there was no sign of people or livestock. I then examined myself and honestly looked like nothing human or anything on the earth or in the waters below. My wounds were filled with sand, just like my eyebrows, hair, beard, and whiskers; my leg was swollen like a wool sack, my left wrist was out of joint, and my hand was swollen and completely useless; my feet were swollen and wrinkled like tripe from being in the water for so long, and painful from several wounds; [1] and a ragged shirt, torn in my struggles, [47] barely covered a body that was discolored and badly disfigured; I was indeed a sight too shocking to evoke pity, too disabled to inspire fear, and too monstrous for any reaction but astonishment. I walked down the slope of the hill and stepped into the bushes that surrounded the area, moving slowly for a while until I spotted a low hollow through the grass that I thought might have water, since my thirst was unbearable. After about half an hour, pausing occasionally, I reached it and found, to my great relief, that I was right; it was water! Clear and inviting, but it was hard to get to. I initially tried several ways to get my mouth to the brook since my limbs were too stiff and sore to bend. Eventually, by lying down on the grass and rolling toward it, I managed to reach it. It was the most delicious drink I had ever tasted! I drank a huge amount, took a breath, and drank again, not knowing when I would have the chance to drink again. Looking around, I saw nothing but signs of a barren and unwelcoming wasteland; therefore, I had to make my way back over the sand to my old home, a tedious and challenging task, which I managed to complete, reaching the beach around noon. The weather was still unfavorable and cloudy, the strong winds didn’t let up much, and the sea continued to roar.

While descending the slope, I had seen among the great mass of articles on the beach, a large empty wine pipe, which lay but a short distance[48] below me, with one head stove in by the sea, the other end facing the wind and water, and the mouth near the hill, which was a snug shelter in front. This was a fine house for me, and fortunately just what I needed. I hitched myself towards it, entered it and laid down, being very weak and fatigued; but I soon found the rough staves too hard for my bare bones and bruised carcase. I shortly after sallied out in search of a covering, and in hopes of finding some bed, mattress or blanket among the wreck, I took a survey on each side, and saw at a distance, on my right, something that looked like a bed, but on coming up to it, I found only a sack of cotton wool, wet and heavy, which I could not remove; I then returned to the cask, having reluctantly left it, as it was my only hope. I rested awhile, and then took another survey, and soon saw, at a great distance down the beach, on my left, towards the water, some rolls of cotton bagging, of which we had a great number on board, and again started out in pursuit. I was a long time in getting to them, and then found them so buried in the sand that I was an hour in digging and clearing it away from around them. It was now, I judged, about four, P. M. They were two large rolls, like bed ticking, with about twenty yards of one rolled round the other and sewed. I tore away the stitches with my teeth and unrolled one from the other, and found the inner one still wet. I pushed it down and rolled it along before me, hitching myself up to it, and[49] then pushing it from me again. Thus I got it to the cask and across its mouth; getting into which, I unrolled eight or ten fathoms, then laying down in the cask, pushed and spread it as well as I could underneath me; I then unrolled as much more by the help of my feet, and covered myself with it, though it was still wet, and covered, as was every thing else, with sand. I now thought myself very well off, and my situation very comfortable, compared with that of the last thirty hours. Darkness soon came on, and during this night extreme and raging thirst kept me awake, and pain kept me constantly shifting positions. Such to me appeared the endless duration of the night, that for many hours before day-break, I firmly believed, and was greatly alarmed by the apprehension, that light would never again revisit the earth; and that darkness had regained its primeval empire. I watched away the night in insufferable thirst, which I thought would drive me to distraction; a fever was raging within me, and I would have given my all for one poor draught of water. Daylight, at last, slowly dawned forth, and as my limbs were too feeble to undertake a journey to the watering place, I resolved to break in upon the wine, and to search for a pipe that had its bung inclining downwards, that the wine might flow, if I could hammer it out. My hunger, too, was loudly craving; on my way to the wine, I found an orange broken open and filled with sand, which I greedily devoured, and hitched[50] along; soon after, I fell in with a quantity of kegs of salmon, and found one with the head out, and partly filled with sand; nevertheless, I resolved to take it with me, and fill it with wine. I was in fact surrounded at this place with different parts of the cargo. At a short distance from me, strewed upon the beach, were nearly 150 pipes of wine, kegs of butter, barrels of flour, baskets of pork, bales of goods, &c., different fragments of the wreck without number. In passing the kegs of butter and baskets of pork, my hunger compelled me to claw out a handful of each, which my hunger forced down; but the wine which I afterwards drank, soon threw it out again. Coming to the pipes, I found one that answered, and procuring a billet of wood, struck out the bung of one that inclined downward, and applied my mouth to the hole, drinking a great quantity. I afterwards rinced the keg with the wine, which contained about a gallon; and nearly filling it with wine, returned with it slowly to the cask, pushing it before me. The gulls overhead, were noisy and clamorous, and seemed to anticipate the meal they should make of me. This keg I at last brought to the cask, to my great satisfaction; set it outside, crawled in, and began to ruminate upon my condition. I found it would be impossible, without succor, to move much longer about, and determined to remain at home during the remainder of the day; and if sufficient strength remained on the morrow, to rig a kind of signal, with a pole[51] or spar, as my only chance of relief, with a piece of cotton bagging, for a flag, that if any vessel appeared near enough, she might observe it from the river. I at first had serious thoughts of endeavoring to get off the small boat, which I could discover at a great distance, bottom up, and to rig a kind of sail, and steer up the river; but on looking at my limbs, and having but one leg and arm serviceable, I immediately abandoned the project; I knew too, that my time was short; I knew that the next day I should be unable to make a farther search than I had done for provisions, as the method of getting along was slow and painful; I had frequently to stop and thrash myself, from the cold. Added to this, nothing was more probable than that the first savage who should discover me, would instantly despatch me, as an impediment to plunder. I expected no less, and that my fears were not groundless, the sequel too mournfully shows; but a certain presentiment of brighter hours, still upheld my spirits, which were never less depressed than upon this occasion. I remembered that the Great Director still had not forsaken me, since ‘God is ever present, ever felt, in the wide waste as in the full city,’ and I could not doubt that He whose outstretched arm had preserved me through the conflict of that dreadful night, would not now leave me to a miserable death. I was now more comfortably situated than at any former period; I had a covering inside, and a keg of good wine outside. Every[52] thing considered, I determined to wait with humble hope, the will of heaven; I was resigned and cheerful, and even sung, and was happy. After this, by repeated drinking, owing to excessive thirst, I was thrown into a doze of about half an hour.

While going down the slope, I noticed a huge empty wine barrel among the many things scattered on the beach. It was just a short distance below me, with one end damaged by the sea, the other facing the wind and water, and the opening near the hill providing a nice shelter in front. This was a perfect spot for me, and exactly what I needed. I made my way to it, crawled inside, and lay down, feeling very weak and exhausted. However, I soon found the rough wooden staves too hard for my sore body. After a short while, I ventured out looking for something to cover myself with, hoping to find a bed, mattress, or blanket among the wreckage. I scanned both sides and saw something that looked like a bed in the distance on my right, but when I reached it, I discovered it was just a sack of wet and heavy cotton wool that I couldn’t move. Reluctantly, I returned to the barrel as it was my only hope. I rested for a bit and then surveyed the area again. Soon, I spotted, far down the beach on my left, toward the water, some rolls of cotton bagging that we had a lot of on board, and I set off to find them. It took me a long time to get to them, and I found them buried in the sand, so I spent an hour digging around them. I estimated it was around 4 PM. There were two large rolls, like bed ticking, with about twenty yards of one wrapped around the other and sewn together. I bit off the stitches and unrolled them, finding the inner one still wet. I pushed it down and rolled it along in front of me while pulling myself along with it, then pushing it away from me again. This way, I got it to the barrel and over its opening; crawling inside, I unrolled eight or ten fathoms, then lay down in the barrel, pushing and spreading it as best as I could underneath me. I unrolled more with my feet and covered myself, even though it was still wet and covered with sand like everything else. I felt quite good about my situation, especially compared to how I had been for the last thirty hours. Darkness came quickly, and throughout that night, intense thirst kept me awake, while pain made me constantly shift positions. The night dragged on so long that for many hours before dawn, I firmly believed and was deeply worried that light would never return to the earth and that darkness had regained its ancient reign. I endured the night in unbearable thirst, which I thought would drive me mad; a fever raged inside me, and I would have given anything for just a sip of water. Finally, light slowly broke, and since my limbs were too weak to make the journey to find water, I decided to break into the wine and look for a barrel with its opening pointing down so that the wine could flow if I could get it out. My hunger was demanding as well; on my way to the wine, I found an orange that was broken open and filled with sand, which I ate eagerly, then continued on. Soon after, I came across some kegs of salmon and found one with the head missing, partially filled with sand; I still decided to take it with me and fill it with wine. I was actually surrounded at that spot by various parts of the cargo. Not far from me, scattered across the beach, were nearly 150 wine barrels, kegs of butter, barrels of flour, baskets of pork, bales of goods, and countless fragments of the wreck. As I passed the kegs of butter and baskets of pork, my hunger forced me to grab a handful of each, which I ate instinctively, but the wine I drank later made me regurgitate it. Reaching the barrels, I found one that worked; I got a piece of wood, knocked out the bung of a barrel that inclined downward, then pressed my mouth to the hole, drinking a large amount. I rinsed the keg with the wine, which contained about a gallon; after nearly filling it, I slowly returned to the barrel, pushing it in front of me. The gulls overhead were noisy and seemed to anticipate their meal. I finally managed to bring the keg to the barrel, feeling very relieved; I set it outside, crawled in, and began to reflect on my situation. I realized it would be impossible to move about much longer without help, so I decided to stay put for the rest of the day. If I had enough strength tomorrow, I would rig up some kind of signal with a pole or spar, using a piece of cotton bagging as a flag, in case a ship came close enough to see it from the river. I initially considered trying to get the small boat I could see far off, turned upside down, to rig up a sail and head up the river; but looking at my limbs, with only one leg and one arm working properly, I quickly gave up on that idea. I also knew my time was short; I realized the next day I wouldn’t be able to search for provisions any further, as moving around was slow and painful, often needing me to stop and shake off the cold. Added to this, it was very likely that the first savage who found me would quickly end my life, considering me an obstacle to their looting. I feared for my life, and the unfortunate outcome proved my worries were justified. But despite it all, a certain hope for brighter days still lifted my spirits, which were never as low as they were at that moment. I remembered that the Great Director hadn’t abandoned me, since “God is ever present, ever felt, in the vast wilderness as in the bustling city,” and I couldn’t doubt that He, whose protective hand had saved me through that dreadful night, wouldn’t leave me now to die in misery. I felt more comfortable at this moment than at any previous time; I had something to cover myself with inside and a keg of good wine outside. Considering everything, I resolved to wait with humble hope for whatever fate awaited me; I felt resigned and cheerful, even singing and feeling happy. After this, from excessive thirst, I dozed off for about half an hour.

It was now three days and nights since I had taken food, and my taper of life began to glimmer in the socket. How I survived these scenes of accumulated misery so long, when but barely alive on reaching the shore, I scarcely can tell; the retrospect even now astonishes me. But frail mortality could resist no longer; my strength had utterly failed, and at this period I abandoned all hope of again leaving the pipe.

It had been three days and nights since I had eaten, and my life was starting to fade. I can barely understand how I managed to endure such overwhelming misery for so long, especially since I was barely alive when I reached the shore; even now, looking back astonishes me. But my fragile human body couldn’t take any more; I had completely run out of strength, and at this point, I gave up all hope of ever leaving the pipe again.

The day was declining apace, and I expected not to behold another dawn. I hailed the approaching night as the termination of my toils; considered the mean covering over me as my shroud, the cask as my coffin, and waited with fortitude the hour of dissolution. But the next was the hour of deliverance!

The day was quickly coming to an end, and I didn't think I'd see another sunrise. I welcomed the night as the end of my struggles; I thought of the rough cover over me as my burial cloth, the barrel as my coffin, and patiently awaited the moment of my end. But the next moment was the moment of my release!

At four o’clock, on this afternoon, (Saturday, the 20th of September,) as I was stretched out in the cask, indulging in recollections of home, I was aroused from my reveries by the startling sound of a horse’s feet. I waited his approach with calmness, being absolutely indifferent in my choice, to sleep or die;—the sounds grew louder and nearer—in a few moments a horse with a rider appeared before the cask. I hailed in Spanish, faintly, “amigo,” (friend,)—he instantly alighted,[53] but struck with such a ghastly spectacle as I then exhibited, he started as he stooped down to observe me, and recoiled backwards against his horse. Recovering soon, however, from his dismay, by seeing my helpless condition, he re-advanced to learn by what means I had outlived the general wreck. He was a young man of benevolent features, a Creole, or half Indian, and dressed partly in the Indian method. I told my tale in a few words, to which he listened with breathless attention, and concluded by asking him the distance to a habitation; and if it was possible that he could furnish means for reaching one the next day, as I had no idea but that he came from a great distance. ‘In a few hours,’ he replied; ‘before night, I can return with horses and assistance, as my mother’s rancho, (or hut) is not more than one league distant.’ After a few more questions, he expressed his surprise at my providential rescue, crossing himself repeatedly at every ‘hair breadth escape,’ and blessed St. George, as my special preserver. It was lucky, he said, that I spoke his language so well; that I was very fortunate in being discovered by him, whose mother, he said, lived at the nearest habitation, whither I should be conveyed; assuring me if I had fallen into the hands of the savages, they would certainly have despatched me, for they were merciless and ferocious. But first says he, ‘I will bring you something to eat, for you look half starved;’ so saying, he jumped upon his horse, and was soon[54] out of sight. His period of absence, seemed to me an age. A prospect of deliverance, of once more beholding my country, had lighted up a hope within me, and again I feared he might prove a deceiver.

At four o'clock this afternoon (Saturday, September 20th), as I lay in the cask, lost in thoughts of home, I was jolted from my daydreams by the sudden sound of hooves. I waited calmly for the approach, feeling completely indifferent to whether I slept or died; the noise grew louder and closer—within moments, a horse and rider appeared in front of the cask. I weakly called out in Spanish, "amigo" (friend)—he quickly dismounted, but was taken aback by the grim sight I presented. He hesitated as he leaned down to look at me and stepped back against his horse. However, he soon regained his composure upon seeing my helpless state and came closer to find out how I had survived the devastation. He was a young man with kind features, either Creole or half-Indian, dressed partly in traditional Indian attire. I briefly told him my story, which he listened to intently, and then I asked him how far it was to the nearest settlement and if he could help me get there the next day, as I assumed he had come from far away. “In a few hours,” he replied, “before nightfall, I can return with horses and help, as my mother’s ranch (or hut) is only about a league away.” After a few more questions, he expressed his astonishment at my narrow escape, crossing himself repeatedly at every close call and praising St. George as my special protector. He mentioned it was fortunate that I spoke his language so well and that I was lucky to have been found by him, as his mother lived at the nearest settlement where I would be taken. He assured me that if I had fallen into the hands of the savages, they would undoubtedly have killed me, as they were ruthless and savage. But first, he said, “I will bring you something to eat, since you look half-starved;” and with that, he mounted his horse and quickly vanished from sight. His absence felt like an eternity to me. The thought of rescue and the possibility of seeing my homeland again sparked a flicker of hope within me, but I worried that he might turn out to be a liar.

In about an hour, however, he appeared, and the foam of his good horse bore witness that he had lost no time. He jumped from his steed, and threw into my lap, as I sat upright in the cask, a warm sausage, and some mouldy bread, wrapped up in a napkin. I greedily seized the food, thinking I could devour it at once; but was surprised to find I could not swallow a mouthful, my throat being contracted, closed and sore.

In about an hour, though, he showed up, and the foam on his good horse proved that he hadn’t wasted any time. He jumped off his horse and tossed a warm sausage and some moldy bread, wrapped in a napkin, into my lap as I sat up in the cask. I eagerly grabbed the food, thinking I could eat it right away, but was shocked to find that I couldn’t swallow a bite, as my throat was tight, closed, and sore.

He now informed me, that on his first coming down to the beach, he had passed the pipe in which I was laying, without suspicion, at a distance upon his left, as he rode near the water; that he saw the beach covered for a great length with numberless articles of the wreck, and that he had been greatly disconcerted on finding the sand dug away from around a roll of cotton, and one carried off, and no marks of footsteps, or any thing living, excepting the sea gulls—that he had seen but one corpse, and that of one of the sailors; that a great many chests, trunks, &c. he had likewise seen; some half buried in the sand; others broken open by the sea; but many that were locked and entire, and that if I wished, he would search for my own, if I would describe it, and draw it up before the cask. I told him that my chests were unlocked at the time we[55] struck, and of course the contents were scattered and sunk. He however rode away to a great distance, and drew up at repeated times, several chests and trunks, belonging to the passengers and seamen, saying that there were many more, but at such a distance, so buried, or so heavy, that he could not drag them along. He asked me for several pieces of clothing, which he had picked up. I told him to keep whatever he pleased, as none could dispute his right to them. He then began to plan the means for my removal; I thought it most practicable that he should empty one of the largest chests of its contents, and that I should get inside, and his horse should draw me over the plains. This he told me was impossible, from the shrubs and marshes and pools, which obstructed the path. I left it then wholly to his care, as my head was far too heavy to talk or to reason; and from previous exertion, even fell back into the cask. My friend then made his lasso (a line of green hide, with which they catch wild horses,) fast to the handle of the largest trunk, and with an assurance that he would soon return, drove off. I listened with painful feelings to the sound of the horse’s retreating footsteps; for on him alone rested my hope of deliverance.

He now told me that when he first came down to the beach, he had passed the pipe I was lying near, without realizing it, on his left as he rode close to the water. He saw the beach stretched out with countless items from the wreck, and he was very unsettled to find the sand dug out around a roll of cotton, with one missing and no signs of footsteps or any living creature besides the seagulls. He had seen only one corpse, that of a sailor; he also noticed many chests, trunks, etc.—some half-buried in the sand, others broken open by the sea, but many that were locked and intact. He said if I wanted, he could search for mine if I described it, and he would pull it up before the cask. I told him that my chests were unlocked when we struck, so their contents were scattered and sunk. He then rode off to a great distance and repeatedly brought back several chests and trunks belonging to the passengers and crew, saying there were many more, but they were too far, buried, or too heavy to drag along. He asked me for some pieces of clothing he had found. I told him to keep whatever he wanted, as no one could argue with him about it. He then started planning how to move me, thinking it best to empty one of the largest chests so I could get inside, and then his horse could pull me across the plains. However, he told me that this was impossible due to the shrubs, marshes, and pools blocking the path. I decided to leave it completely in his hands since my head was too heavy to think or reason; after all the effort, I even fell back into the cask. My friend then secured his lasso (a green hide rope used to catch wild horses) to the handle of the largest trunk and assured me he would be back soon before riding off. I listened with a heavy heart to the sound of the horse's retreating footsteps; my hope for escape rested solely on him.

Shortly after he had gone, a guacha, a savage of fierce and murderous countenance, rode up and alighted from his horse in great haste, and roughly asked, ‘quien es usted?’ I replied, ’un marinero[56] naufrago;’ ‘es usted el capitan?’ ‘no,’ I answered; ‘estoy el pilota,’ and that I had previously been discovered by a paysano, who had just left me to return with assistance. He demanded the road he took; I told him, when he leaned upon his horse and galloped off in the direction the other had taken.

Shortly after he left, a guacha, a fierce and dangerous-looking savage, rode up and quickly jumped off his horse, asking roughly, “Who are you?” I replied, “I’m a shipwrecked sailor;” “Are you the captain?” he asked. “No,” I answered; “I’m the pilot,” and I explained that I had been found earlier by a paysano, who had just left to get help. He asked about the path the paysano took; I told him, and then he leaned on his horse and sped off in the same direction.

It seems, as my deliverer afterwards informed me, that this savage came up with him and endeavored by entreaties and threats, to dissuade him from his design of assisting me; saying I had better be despatched and buried in the sand, and then there would be none to dispute the right of plunder. But my deliverer told him that the chief was already acquainted with the affair, as well as his father and others, who were even then preparing to go down to the beach; on hearing this, he lost no time, but turning his horse, hastily spurred off in an opposite course.

It seems, as my rescuer later told me, that this savage confronted him and tried to persuade him through pleas and threats to abandon his plan to help me. He claimed it would be better for me to be killed and buried in the sand, as this way there would be no one to challenge their right to loot. However, my rescuer told him that the chief was already aware of the situation, along with his father and others, who were on their way to the beach. Upon hearing this, he wasted no time and quickly turned his horse, speeding off in the opposite direction.

During the absence of my friend, my moments in the cask were spent in the most tormenting anxiety and suspence. I had been discovered, contrary to all conjecture, by a friend, instead of an enemy, and one bright ray of hope, which I hardly dared to cherish, had reanimated my soul. Now was the fearful hazard that he should not return with timely succor. I eagerly listened to catch the sound of his returning galloping steed; after a while I heard the approach of several horses; I awaited their appearance with breathless hope, for my life or my death hung upon the moment.

During my friend’s absence, my time in the cask was filled with excruciating anxiety and suspense. I had been discovered, against all expectations, by a friend instead of an enemy, and a glimmer of hope, which I barely dared to hold onto, had revived my spirit. Now I faced the terrifying risk that he wouldn't return in time to help me. I listened intently for the sound of his galloping horse; eventually, I heard multiple horses approaching. I waited for them to appear with bated breath, as my life or death depended on that moment.

[57]

[57]

What was my dismay and surprise, at the next moment, on beholding the remorseless face of the same fellow who last had left me! his infernal companions also dismounted, and presented their diabolical visages at the mouth of the cask. For a few moments their ensued a violent and clamorous dispute between them, with horrid grimaces. Resistance was madness; my feelings I will not attempt to describe. Suddenly I saw their faces turned to one direction; they instantly sheathed their knives, and sprang toward their horses and vanished.

What was my shock and surprise, just a moment later, when I saw the cold face of the same guy who had just left me! His ruthless friends also got off their horses and showed their sinister faces at the opening of the cask. For a few moments, there was a loud and intense argument among them, filled with horrifying expressions. Fighting back would be insane; I won't even try to explain how I felt. Suddenly, I noticed their faces looking in one direction; they quickly put away their knives, dashed toward their horses, and disappeared.

In a moment, my friend, accompanied by his father and three slaves, alighted from their horses. They immediately set about removing me gently from the cask, while Pedro, (the name of my discoverer,) breaking open a passenger’s trunk, that lay near, advised me to permit him to draw over me some of the apparel; alleging, that in my present appearance, I should be taken by the inhabitants for a common sailor; but if clothed in a decent manner, I should gain among them more advantage, respect and security. I, therefore, seated on the sand, suffered the painful operation of dressing. A surtout and waistcoat was got over me, but my leg being so greatly swelled, prevented my getting over it any thing but a pair of loose drawers. I was then carefully lifted on the back of the horse; my attentive friend Pedro leaped up before me; holding on to him, I had strength sufficient to keep myself in an upright position.

In no time, my friend, along with his father and three servants, got off their horses. They quickly started to lift me gently out of the barrel, while Pedro, the name of the guy who found me, broke open a nearby passenger’s trunk and suggested that I let him cover me with some clothes. He mentioned that in my current state, the locals would mistake me for a regular sailor, but if I dressed properly, I would command more respect and safety among them. So, sitting on the sand, I went through the uncomfortable process of getting dressed. They put a coat and a waistcoat on me, but because my leg was so swollen, I could only wear some loose pants. After that, they carefully lifted me onto the back of the horse; my attentive friend Pedro jumped up in front of me, and by holding onto him, I had enough strength to stay upright.

[58]

[58]

I had just been seated on the back of the animal, when the general, who commanded the troops in this quarter, appeared with a guard of soldiers, and several others. He took me kindly by the hand, promised me his protection, and taking a case bottle of Aguadente from one of the guard, reached it to me; I drank nearly half a pint, and felt much enlivened. He then took off his pancho, or cloak, and threw it over me; asking me if I preferred going to the cottage of the party that had me in care, or to his own quarters. I thanked him, and in reply told him, that these had saved my life, and I could trust them freely, and desired not to leave them. Go on then, said he, con Dios, and to-night I will visit you. We then set forward at a slow pace, travelling along the windings of the beach.

I had just sat down on the back of the animal when the general, who was in charge of the troops in this area, showed up with a group of soldiers and a few others. He kindly took my hand, promised to protect me, and took a bottle of Aguadente from one of the guards and handed it to me; I drank almost half a pint and felt much more cheerful. He then removed his cloak and draped it over me, asking if I preferred to go to the cottage of the people who were caring for me or to his own quarters. I thanked him and told him that those people had saved my life, and I trusted them completely, so I didn’t want to leave them. "Then go on, with God," he said, "and tonight I will visit you." We then moved forward at a slow pace, traveling along the twists and turns of the beach.

I saw the body of a seaman, but we rode not near enough for me to distinguish his features; he layed upon his back, clothed in a red baize shirt and trowsers. I looked around to see if there were others, but my friend assured me there were none. The beach was strewed with the wreck to a great length, lying in every kind of position and in confused masses.

I saw the body of a sailor, but we didn't get close enough for me to make out his features; he was lying on his back, wearing a red flannel shirt and pants. I looked around to see if there were others, but my friend confirmed there weren't any. The beach was scattered with wreckage for quite a distance, lying in all sorts of positions and in chaotic piles.

The bright rays of the setting sun, now for a few moments enlivened our path, as we left the beach and turned off into the country, across the plains. A negro preceded us on horseback, to sound the way, as the land was wet and marshy. The raging waves had now subsided to an unruffled calm, and I[59] cast my eyes mournfully towards that treacherous sea, which now looked so peaceful and flattering.

The bright rays of the setting sun briefly lit our path as we left the beach and headed into the countryside across the plains. A Black man rode ahead of us on horseback to scout the way since the land was wet and marshy. The crashing waves had settled into a smooth calm, and I[59] looked sadly at that deceptive sea, which now appeared so peaceful and inviting.

We arrived at last, about dusk, to a small cottage; having travelled as I computed nearly a league. A number of large dogs gave notice of our approach, but were soon silenced by my companions, who assisted me gently to dismount. I was welcomed with many blessings by an old woman; carried into her hut, seated in a chair, some clothing was brought forward, and I soon felt the comfort of a dry shirt. ‘I have no beef or mutton in the house,’ says the old woman, for the army take all our beasts; but we have some fowls, which may do as well. I was soon put in the only bed in the hut, to me a bed of down; and my kind hostess soon brought me a bowl of good broth. After this, my leg was washed with hot vinegar, and my wounds on my feet dressed as well as circumstances would permit.

We finally arrived, around dusk, at a small cottage; having traveled what I estimated to be nearly a league. A bunch of large dogs barked to announce our arrival, but my companions quickly quieted them as they helped me gently get off. An old woman welcomed me with many blessings, carried me into her hut, and seated me in a chair. Some clothing was fetched, and I soon enjoyed the comfort of a dry shirt. "I don’t have any beef or mutton in the house," the old woman said, "because the army takes all our animals; but we do have some chickens, which should work just as well." I was soon laid down in the only bed in the hut, which felt like a bed of feathers to me; and my kind hostess quickly brought me a bowl of good broth. After that, my leg was washed with hot vinegar, and my foot wounds were dressed as well as conditions allowed.

This rancho, or hut, was a small place built like all others, of cane, fastened together with strips of green hide, plaistered with mud, and a thatch’d roof. The general came about dark, spent an half hour, and retired. I considered myself as peculiarly fortunate on being now under the care of an old woman, the indispensable attendant in sickness, and alleviator of calamity; developing those endearing and estimable traits of character, usefulness, patience and compassion. My leg was again bathed in hot vinegar, and bandages of woollen applied; and my hostess left me and retired to her repose.[60] During the night I drank a great quantity both of wine and water, which had been set within reach, for my thirst was unquenchable. Two junk bottles of hot water were covered and placed in bed against my feet; which were much swelled, chilled, and wrinkled, and almost without feeling. This sudden application of artificial heat to the blood, though well intended, had a most pernicious effect; corrupting, stagnating, and destroying its natural temperature, and causing great pain; its effects were felt many months afterwards. During the night I slept but little. The rays of the sun breaking into the room, announced the morning of the Sabbath, and I could in truth hail it as a welcome and sweet day of rest.

This ranch, or hut, was a small place built like all the others, with cane held together by strips of green hide, plastered with mud, and topped with a thatched roof. The general arrived around dark, stayed for half an hour, and then left. I felt especially lucky to be under the care of an old woman, the essential caretaker in times of sickness and a comfort in trouble; she showed those loving and admirable qualities of being helpful, patient, and compassionate. My leg was once again soaked in hot vinegar, and wool bandages were applied; then my hostess left me to get some rest.[60] During the night, I drank a lot of both wine and water that had been placed within reach because my thirst was unquenchable. Two bottles of hot water were covered and put in bed against my feet, which were very swollen, cold, wrinkled, and nearly numb. This sudden application of artificial heat to my blood, although well-meaning, had a harmful effect; it corrupted, stagnated, and destroyed its natural temperature and caused great pain, with effects that lingered for many months. I barely slept during the night. The sun's rays breaking into the room signaled the morning of the Sabbath, and I could truly greet it as a welcome and wonderful day of rest.

I now took a view of the apartment and furniture; the room was partly separated by a partition of cane poles, inside of which slept my hostess and her two younger sons, upon the floor; as there was but one bedstead, upon which I lay. Her eldest son, my discoverer, lay near me, wrapped up in his pancho, or blanket; the old man, his father, lived in another hut, at a relations, for fear of the guaches, as he was a Spaniard.

I took a look at the apartment and furniture; the room was partially divided by a partition made of cane poles, inside of which my hostess and her two younger sons slept on the floor, since there was only one bed, which I occupied. Her oldest son, who found me, was lying nearby, wrapped up in his pancho, or blanket; the old man, his father, lived in another hut with relatives because he was afraid of the guaches, since he was a Spaniard.

At the further end of the hovel was kept constantly burning upon a table, on each side of a crucifix, two candles; which is the invariable custom when any one lies dangerously sick. A separate hut for the kitchen, was built outside. The furniture consisted of a few hide bottomed chairs, some[61] hide sacks and baskets, a hide sieve, and several other necessary articles, of which hide was the principal material. During the day, I inquired of the old woman of the state of affairs about the country, and at Monte Video. She told me that the Portuguese were kept close within its walls by the natives; and that any communication between the city and country was very precarious and difficult, as a great animosity subsisted between them. Pedro at this time had mounted his cavallo, and taken an excursion to the beach; towards night he entered the hut, bringing in a hide sack of flour from the wreck, which he had drawn away by the aid of his horse; and soon after, brought in several other articles, such as bottles of wine and cordial, a keg of butter; some rum, and a keg of wine from a cask—these he stowed away in the interior of the hut, and then took his seat at my bedside as usual.

At the far end of the shack, there were always two candles burning on a table beside a crucifix, which is the usual practice when someone is seriously ill. A separate hut for cooking was built outside. The furniture included a few chairs with hide seats, some hide sacks and baskets, a hide sieve, and several other essential items made mostly from hide. During the day, I asked the old woman about the situation in the country and in Monte Video. She told me that the Portuguese were kept inside the city walls by the locals and that any communication between the city and the countryside was pretty risky and difficult because of the strong hostility between them. At this time, Pedro had saddled his horse and gone for a ride to the beach; in the evening, he returned to the hut with a hide sack of flour from the wreck, which he had carried with the help of his horse. Soon after, he brought in several other items, like bottles of wine and liquor, a keg of butter, some rum, and a keg of wine from a barrel—he put those away inside the hut and then took his usual seat by my bedside.

In conversation, he expressed to me his fears of the intemperate and remorseless guachas, whom he said, valued the life of a person no more than that of a dog; that they were unsettled, roving, and lived upon plunder. To beguile the evenings of my tedious confinement, he would also relate to me the products of the country, its animals, &c.; a choice horse might be bought for a dollar, though a bad saddle would cost twenty. Ostriches were plenty in the neighborhood, valuable only for their eggs and feathers, of which they made fans and dusters. The nature of this bird, he said, was very[62] singular, and he had often watched at a distance their method of depositing their eggs; the bird, after assuring herself of being unnoticed, would scratch a hole in the sand, deposite her egg, and carefully covering the place, retreat slyly to the thicket, and leave to the sun the care of hatching them.

In our conversations, he shared his fears about the ruthless and unrestrained raiders, whom he claimed valued a person's life as little as that of a dog; they roamed freely, lived off theft, and were always on the move. To make my long confinement more bearable, he would also tell me about the local products and animals. You could buy a good horse for a dollar, but a poor saddle would cost you twenty. There were plenty of ostriches around, valuable mainly for their eggs and feathers, which were used to make fans and dusters. He explained that the nature of these birds was quite unusual, and he had often watched them from afar as they laid their eggs; after making sure no one was watching, the bird would scratch a hole in the sand, lay her egg, carefully cover it up, then sneak back into the bushes, leaving the sun to take care of hatching them.

The next day, the general came again, bringing with him several bottles of wine and cordial, which he had taken from the wreck.

The next day, the general came back, bringing several bottles of wine and liqueur that he had taken from the wreck.

A country fellow came in soon after, an acquaintance of my hostess; and she offered him a draught of the cordial. I shall never forget the inexpressible contortions of countenance, the heartfelt smack, the exclamation of wonder and relish with which he swallowed his glass of liquor, of the taste of which, he had before no conception.

A local guy walked in shortly after, someone my hostess knew; she offered him a drink of the cordial. I will never forget the incredible expressions on his face, the genuine smack of satisfaction, the amazed exclamation he made as he downed his glass of liquor, a flavor he had never imagined before.

I desired the general to inform me if it was possible to send a letter to Monte Video. He told me it was difficult, as there was but little intercourse; but that he knew of a patriot officer, who, having a passport, would go in a few days to the city. I therefore, the day following, procured of the old woman, materials for writing, and a chopping block. This I placed between my legs on the bed, and began writing; it was a tedious business, and I could sit up no longer than to write one line at a time. I however finished this necessary duty, and wrote two letters; one directed to W. P. White, Esq., the only person I was acquainted with at Monte Video, whom I had formerly known in the capital;[63] and another to the owners in Buenos Ayres. I briefly related the loss of the ship, the fate of the crew, my own situation; and advising something to be done to save the property; of which a greater part had been washed ashore. These I gave to the girl, who in two days forwarded them to the capital.

I wanted the general to let me know if it was possible to send a letter to Monte Video. He told me it was tough, since there wasn't much communication; however, he mentioned a patriotic officer who had a passport and would be heading to the city in a few days. So, the next day, I got some writing materials and a chopping block from the old woman. I set it up between my legs on the bed and started to write; it was a tedious task, and I could only sit up long enough to write one line at a time. Still, I finished this important task and wrote two letters: one addressed to W. P. White, Esq., the only person I knew in Monte Video, who I had previously met in the capital; and another to the owners in Buenos Ayres. I briefly explained the loss of the ship, the fate of the crew, my situation, and suggested that something should be done to save the property, most of which had been washed ashore. I gave these letters to the girl, who forwarded them to the capital in two days.

Pedro, during this day, was still employed, assisted by the two slaves, in recovering articles and provisions, from the beach; which he said was now covered with the natives, who were breaking open trunks, chests, and bales of goods; staving in the pipes of wine, when any one wanted to drink; and exhibiting a confused scene of plunder, fighting, and wanton waste of goods; of which they knew not the value.

Pedro was still working that day, helped by the two slaves, gathering items and supplies from the beach. He said it was now packed with locals who were breaking open trunks, chests, and bales of goods, smashing the wine barrels whenever someone wanted to drink, creating a chaotic scene of looting, fighting, and reckless destruction of goods that they didn’t understand the worth of.

Getting drunk with the wine, on the beach, they frequently came to the cottage, and with brutal language and savage gestures, threatened the lives of its generous inhabitants.

Getting drunk on wine at the beach, they often came to the cottage and, with harsh words and wild gestures, threatened the lives of its kind residents.

As his mother was once bringing in some cakes for me from the kitchen, the ruffians snatched them from her hand; then entering the kitchen, seized and devoured what victuals were there, and threw away the plates.

As his mom was bringing in some cakes for me from the kitchen, the troublemakers snatched them from her hand; then they went into the kitchen, grabbed and devoured all the food that was there, and threw away the plates.

She one day entered with tears in her eyes, and told me she was sadly afraid of her life and my own, from the Indians; they were very bad men;—and she had overheard a parley between them, of breaking into the hut during the night, to plunder and murder. Indeed, their looks alone spoke their[64] savage character; for often, at times, laying on my bed, I have observed them attentively, as they would sometimes venture into the hut; and I never saw such rascally and ugly looking fellows. They were generally of large size, long black hair, hanging like snakes down their shoulders; thick bushy beard and mustachios; a coarse blanket or pancho wrapped round their waist; another with a hole in the middle, through which they thrust their heads; a turban or checked handkerchief on their heads; horse skin boots, stripped raw from the animal’s leg, and worn raw into the shape of the feet. These, with a sword nearly a fathom long, in an iron scabbard, gave them a most hideous appearance; they indeed looked like demons. All wore long knives stuck into a sheath, in the blanket behind, which they made use of for every purpose; to kill, cut up beef, eat with, and stab their fellow creatures.

She walked in one day, tears in her eyes, and told me she was really scared for both our lives because of the Indians; they were dangerous men. She had overheard them discussing plans to break into the hut at night to rob and kill us. Honestly, just looking at them showed their savage nature. There were times when I laid on my bed and watched them closely as they would sometimes come into the hut, and I’d never seen such thieves and ugly-looking guys. They were usually tall, with long black hair hanging down their shoulders like snakes; they had thick bushy beards and mustaches, a rough blanket or poncho around their waists, and another piece of fabric with a hole in the middle for their heads. They wore turbans or checked handkerchiefs on their heads, and their boots were made from horse skin, stripped raw from the animal’s legs and shaped to fit their feet. With swords nearly six feet long in iron sheaths, they looked absolutely horrifying; they truly resembled demons. All of them had long knives tucked into sheaths in their blankets behind them, which they used for everything—killing, butchering beef, eating, and stabbing others.

The friendly general again came in the evening, attended by several soldiers; and at his departure, left a guard of three at our earnest request, who were well armed, for our defence. This military officer, whose name was Ortugues, appeared much like one of our own country farmers, excepting his formidable iron scabbard sword. His dress was a short jacket of coarse blue, over which was thrown his pancho, or square cloak, drab velvet breeches, and long boots; he seemed a well meaning and benevolent man; but no ways capable of commanding a horde of vagabond marauders, whom he was organising[65] into an army, for the defence of the country, against the encroachments of the Portuguese.

The friendly general came by again in the evening, accompanied by several soldiers. When he left, he set a guard of three at our strong request, who were well armed for our protection. This military officer, named Ortugues, looked quite like one of our own farmers, except for his imposing iron scabbard sword. He wore a short, coarse blue jacket, over which he draped his poncho, along with drab velvet trousers and long boots. He seemed like a well-meaning and kind man, but not really capable of leading a band of wandering raiders that he was organizing into an army to defend the country against the Portuguese encroachments.[65]

The cause of the Indians’ animosity and attempts to attack and plunder, was, that they suspected as Pedro was the first who had discovered the wreck on the beach, he had the first chance of booty, and of course had obtained a great quantity of gold, silver, and other valuable property; and had secreted them in the cottage. Impressed with this notion, which I believe was false and groundless, they made several nightly attempts to force the door, but were repulsed by the guard.

The reason for the Indians' hostility and efforts to attack and loot was that they suspected Pedro, being the first to discover the wreck on the beach, had the first shot at the treasure and had likely gotten a lot of gold, silver, and other valuable items, which he had hidden in the cottage. Believing this idea, which I think was false and baseless, they made several attempts at night to break down the door, but the guards turned them away.

I passed these days very unquietly at the cottage, and time seemed to roll most tediously slow. The old lady had some cigars and old books, and I endeavored, by smoking and reading, to beguile the hours. The books, though some were an hundred and fifty years old, were not uninteresting. They consisted partly of the ‘Lives of the Martyrs;’ ‘Sermons by a Priest at Madrid;’ and a large volume of the ‘History of the Conquest of Peru.’

I spent those days very restlessly at the cottage, and time felt like it was dragging on forever. The old lady had some cigars and old books, and I tried to pass the time by smoking and reading. The books, even though some were over a hundred and fifty years old, were still interesting. They included parts of the 'Lives of the Martyrs,' 'Sermons by a Priest in Madrid,' and a big book on the 'History of the Conquest of Peru.'

In the evening, Pedro would take his seat at the bedside, and amuse and interest me by his conversation. On an occasion like this, he said, he would relate the following tale, which before he had no opportunity to do. It shows that my discovery and rescue were wholly owing to a circumstance purely fortuitous and accidental.

In the evening, Pedro would sit by my bedside and keep me entertained and engaged with his conversation. On one of these occasions, he said he would tell me the following story, which he hadn't had the chance to share before. It demonstrates that my discovery and rescue were entirely due to a completely random and unexpected event.

‘Early in the morning of Thursday,’ said he, ‘two days before you were found on the strand, a soldier[66] of the army of Artigas was strolling on horseback nearer the beach than they usually travel. At about a mile from the scene of the wreck, he discerned in a small cove at the river side, something on the beach; and as it was uncommon to observe any object breaking the uniformity of the sandy plain, he resolved to ride down and examine it. It proved to be one of the kegs of butter, nearly the size of a half barrel, which had been separated by the sea from the other drifting articles, and washed and lodged into this little bay. The soldier alighted from his horse, turned it over, but could not tell what it contained. It being heavy, and thinking it of little value, he left it and rode away. Some time after, in his return, he came near our cottage; he had before frequently stopped here; and now resolved to go in. In the course of conversation with me, on different affairs, he mentioned the discovery, at the river side, of a small barrel, very heavy; containing he knew not what, and supposed it to have drifted ashore from some vessel. Soon after, he left the cottage, and proceeded on his journey. That day and the next, being very stormy, cold and rainy, prevented me from going abroad. On Saturday the weather was still unfair, but at noon it began to clear away. I mounted my cavallo in the afternoon, and took a ride in the direction described by the soldier, in search of the keg he had spoken of. This I soon saw at the edge of the water, and supposing that this was not all that had[67] been driven ashore by the storm, I was induced to make a further search; and recollecting that the wind had been for several days blowing obliquely up the river, I concluded to shape my course down the sea side for new discoveries. Accordingly, I rode on a great distance, without seeing any thing else, and was on the point of returning; when, on winding round a small point of land, I plainly saw at a short distance a thousand vestiges of the wreck covering the beach. I rode slowly through them, near the edge of the water, stopping at times to view them, but not dismounting. I passed the cask you lay in, which I saw was thrown very high up the beach. ‘It was rather strange,’ said he, ‘that you did not hear my horse’s steps.’ I told him I did not; for the tread on the sand was not loud, and the roar of the sea might serve to prevent it. ‘I traversed the whole length of the beach, and frequently stopped to examine different objects of the wreck. I had probably been half an hour on the beach, before I had a thought of one alive so near me.’ I told him I was, during the period of his survey, lying quietly in the cask, without a hope of again leaving it, and wholly unconscious deliverance was so near. ‘In returning,’ he continued, ‘I was passing close to the sand hill between the banks and your place of shelter, and should have passed the cask, if I had not heard a hollow voice from within.’ I inquired if the roll of bagging across the pipe’s mouth, did not attract his notice.[68] ‘No, my friend pilota,’ said Pedro, ‘I should certainly have rode on without regarding it; for I had seen a hundred things just before, in equally curious positions. Your voice alone, which started me at first, caused me to dismount, and look into the cask; and my God, I shall never forget the sight as long as I live.’ What a scene was this for the pencil of the painter!

‘Early on Thursday morning,’ he said, ‘two days before you were found on the beach, a soldier from Artigas's army was riding his horse closer to the shore than usual. About a mile from the wreck, he spotted something on the beach in a small cove by the river. Since it’s rare to see anything breaking the flat sandy landscape, he decided to ride down and check it out. It turned out to be one of the kegs of butter, almost the size of a half barrel, which had been washed ashore by the sea, separated from other drifting items, and lodged in this little bay. The soldier got off his horse, inspected it, but couldn’t tell what was inside. Since it was heavy and he thought it wouldn’t be worth much, he left it there and continued on his way. Later, on his journey back, he passed by our cottage; he had often stopped here before, so he decided to come in. While chatting with me about various topics, he mentioned discovering a heavy small barrel by the river, but he didn’t know what it contained and assumed it had floated ashore from a ship. Shortly after, he left the cottage and went on his way. The weather was stormy, cold, and rainy that day and the next, so I couldn’t go outside. On Saturday, the weather was still bad, but it started to clear up around noon. I got on my horse that afternoon and rode in the direction the soldier had mentioned, looking for the keg he talked about. I quickly spotted it at the water's edge and thinking there might be more washed ashore from the storm, I decided to look further. Remembering that the wind had been blowing up the river for several days, I figured I’d head down the seaside for new discoveries. I rode for quite a while without seeing anything else and was about to head back when I rounded a small point of land and saw a ton of wreckage scattered across the beach. I rode slowly through it, along the water’s edge, stopping now and then to take a closer look but not getting off the horse. I passed the cask you were in, which was thrown way up on the beach. ‘Isn’t it strange,’ he said, ‘that you didn’t hear my horse?’ I told him I didn’t because the sound of the sand was soft and the roar of the sea likely drowned it out. ‘I walked the whole length of the beach and often stopped to check out different wreck items. I had probably been there for about half an hour before I thought of someone alive being so close to me.’ I told him that during his search, I was lying quietly in the cask, fully expecting never to leave it again and completely unaware that rescue was so near. ‘On my way back,’ he continued, ‘I was passing close to the sand hill between the banks and your spot and would have gone right by the cask if I hadn’t heard a muffled voice from inside.’ I asked if the burlap covering the cask’s opening hadn’t caught his eye. ‘No, my friend pilot,’ Pedro said, ‘I would have definitely just ridden on without paying it any mind; I’d seen a hundred things before in equally odd positions. It was only your voice that startled me and made me dismount and check the cask; and my God, I’ll never forget the sight as long as I live.’ What a scene this would have been for a painter!

On the eve of about the fourth day, I asked Pedro, if any of the bodies had washed ashore, besides the one we saw. He replied, not one; and wondered how that alone should be cast so far on shore.

On the night of around the fourth day, I asked Pedro if any of the bodies had washed up on the beach, besides the one we saw. He replied, not a single one; and wondered how only that one had been thrown so far onto the shore.

I told him I presumed it was one of the stoutest of the seamen, who had fortunately cleared himself from the ship, without much damage, and had resolutely continued ‘breasting the lofty surge,’ till he reached the middle of the breakers; when, being there overpowered, he expired and sunk; and the force of the waves then propelled the body to the shore before it descended to the bottom.

I told him I figured it was one of the strongest sailors, who had luckily made it off the ship without much harm and had bravely kept going through the high waves until he got to the middle of the surf. There, he was overwhelmed, passed away, and sank; then the waves pushed his body to the shore before it went down to the ocean floor.

It is surprising that human bodies will, when dead, sink and continue at the bottom, unmoveable; while other substances, of much greater proportionate weight, will be thrown on shore by the sea.

It’s surprising that human bodies, when dead, sink and stay at the bottom, unmoving; while other substances that are much heavier get washed up on the shore by the sea.

My friend brought in, and shew me, at different times, large detached pieces of iron, and ring bolts, &c. which he found half buried in the sand.

My friend brought in and showed me, at different times, large chunks of iron, ring bolts, and so on, which he found half buried in the sand.

I was now slowly gaining strength; but each returning day brought fresh alarm from the murderous[69] designs of the villain guachas. On the fourth night they went to the next hut upon the beach, about four miles off, where dwelt a poor and harmless family, and robbed it of every thing valuable, or worth taking; mortally stabbed the father; bound his daughters, and brutally abused them. One of them, an interesting white girl, came the next day to our hut, for some relief, and told in tears the dreadful story.

I was slowly getting stronger, but each new day brought more fear from the murderous designs of the villainous guachas. On the fourth night, they attacked the next hut on the beach, about four miles away, where a poor and innocent family lived. They stole everything valuable or worth taking, fatally stabbed the father, bound his daughters, and brutally assaulted them. One of the daughters, a striking white girl, came to our hut the next day seeking help and shared the heartbreaking story in tears.

I had about this time, a great many visiters, who all considered me highly favored by my patron saint, to whom they attributed my hair breath escapes. Among them, were many old women, who came from a distance, and travelled on horseback, about the country, bartering their commodities.

I had a lot of visitors around this time, who all thought I was really lucky to have my patron saint looking out for me, considering my narrow escapes. Among them were several older women who came from far away and traveled around the country on horseback, trading their goods.

A consultation was once held by them, respecting my fever, leg, and bruises; and they recommended a large leaf of an herb, which grows in that country; which, dipped in hot oil and vinegar, had a wonderful and salutary effect when applied to my limb; although the application caused a most uneasy sensation, combined with suffocating pain during two nights; the swelling greatly subsided, excepting about the bend of the knee. During this, for five days, I could lie in only one position in bed, and that on my right side; my wounded leg lying on pillows; the knee bent about half way; in which unvaried bend, it remained in fact, more than a month.

They once had a meeting to discuss my fever, leg, and bruises, and they suggested using a large leaf from a local herb. When dipped in hot oil and vinegar, it worked wonders and helped my injury a lot, even though it caused a really uncomfortable sensation and intense pain for two nights. The swelling went down significantly, except around the bend of my knee. For five days, I could only lie in one position in bed, which was on my right side, with my injured leg resting on pillows and my knee bent about halfway. It actually stayed in that position for over a month.

I could instantly perceive a change of wind, on the least motion; and once on moving, when the[70] wind had shifted to the north, the effect was so electric as to cause me to scream aloud. And when, at last, I was compelled to relieve for a moment my painful and palsying posture, it was the task of half an hour to turn myself in bed.

I could immediately sense a change in the air with even the slightest movement; and once I started to move, when the[70] wind shifted to the north, it felt so shocking that I screamed out loud. Finally, when I had to take a moment to ease my painful and stiff position, it took me half an hour to turn myself in bed.

My appetite, at this time, had become insatiate, and though I could not get so much to eat as I wanted, owing to the care of my old nurse, I ate great quantities, and drank all that came within my reach; keeping bottles of liquor under my pillow, for my night supply. The smallest lad’s chief occupation was to bring in water; of which, during the twelve days I remained here, I believe I drank fifty gallons, besides half a dozen bottles of cordial, a dozen of wine, ten gallons of port, in a keg, and several bottles of other liquors; all of which Pedro had saved from the beach.

My appetite at this point had become incredible, and even though I couldn't eat as much as I wanted because my old nurse was watching over me, I still consumed a lot and drank everything I could get my hands on, keeping bottles of liquor under my pillow for nighttime. The main job of the youngest boy was to bring in water; during the twelve days I was here, I believe I drank about fifty gallons, along with half a dozen bottles of cordial, a dozen bottles of wine, ten gallons of port from a keg, and several bottles of other spirits, all of which Pedro had saved from the beach.

My condition appeared to engross all the attention of my kind hostess, and occupy all her care and time. She never entered the apartment, nor went to sleep, without the kind question of ‘que quero usted, pilota?’ (what is wanting;) and the answer was usually, ‘water.’

My condition seemed to consume all the attention of my kind hostess, taking up all her care and time. She never entered the room or went to sleep without asking the kind question, ‘que quiero usted, pilota?’ (what do you need?); and the response was usually, ‘water.’

I asked her one afternoon what reward she expected, or what recompense I should give; or what return I could make, for her untiring goodness. ‘Speak not of it, Don Horky,’ said she; ‘who can tell but that my son Pepe, may go to other countries by sea, and be shipwrecked, and cast ashore, and that your mother may then do that and more,[71] for him, than I am doing now for you.’ It was an answer heartfelt, I believe, by us both, though I smiled to think on the improbability that Pedro could be thrown ashore in a storm, upon a wharf in Boston.

I asked her one afternoon what reward she expected, or what I should give her; or what I could do in return for her endless kindness. ‘Don’t mention it, Don Horky,’ she said; ‘who knows if my son Pepe might travel to other countries by sea, get shipwrecked, and wash up on shore, and that your mother might do even more for him than I’m doing for you now.’ It was a heartfelt response, I believe, for both of us, though I smiled at the thought of how unlikely it was that Pedro could end up washed up in a storm at a dock in Boston.[71]

This family had lived many years happily and comfortably in Monte Video, previous to its surrender to the Patriots, in 1813; but were then compelled to quit their home; and since that period, had suffered, as well as many other families, all the hardships to which their adhesion to the cause of old Spain, exposed them. The old man, her husband, was in constant fear of his life; and during my stay at the hut, which drew many unwelcome visiters, appeared only once or twice, and then only in the evening; living otherwise, as before mentioned, at a relation’s, concealed.

This family had lived many years happily and comfortably in Montevideo before it was surrendered to the Patriots in 1813. However, they were then forced to leave their home and have since endured, like many other families, all the hardships that came from their loyalty to old Spain. The old man, her husband, constantly feared for his life; and during my time at the hut, which attracted many unwelcome visitors, he only showed up once or twice, and only in the evening, while otherwise, as mentioned before, he was hiding out at a relative’s place.

On the second evening, he came and inquired of his wife about me, as follows: ‘Bien,’ says he, ‘como esta su huespedo?’ ‘mucho mejor,’ she replied; ‘tiene gano muy vivo para beber y comer;’ ‘esta christiano?’ he asked, which made me smile. ‘Sin duda,’ she replied; ‘todas son christianos en Norte America;’ ‘como los Inglesas y el pilota sabe las nombres de todas los santas, y puede repeto el credo catolico.’ ‘Dios le guarda,’ he replied; and to me, ‘a Dios, usted le passa bein;’ so saying, he left the cottage.

On the second evening, he came and asked his wife about me, saying: ‘Well,’ he said, ‘how is your guest?’ ‘Much better,’ she replied; ‘he has a strong desire to eat and drink.’ ‘Is he Christian?’ he asked, which made me smile. ‘Of course,’ she replied; ‘everyone in North America is Christian;’ ‘like the English, and the pilot knows the names of all the saints, and can recite the Catholic creed.’ ‘God keep you,’ he replied; and to me, ‘God, may you be well;’ saying this, he left the cottage.

On inquiring my health, and asking if I was a christian, she answered, ‘much better;’ and doubtless a christian, as all in America, as well as the[72] English, were christians; and that as evidence, I could repeat the Catholic creed, and knew the names of all the saints; for which he bestows his benediction.

On asking about my health and whether I was a Christian, she replied, "Much better," and undoubtedly a Christian, just like everyone in America, as well as the[72] English, who were all Christians; and as proof, I could recite the Catholic creed and knew the names of all the saints, for which he gives his blessing.

When at times I would whistle and sing, to beguile the pain, my hostess would ask the reason. I told her I did so to kill the pain. But I saw she often thought from my strange behaviour, that my fever and pain had rendered me delirious. My apprehensions, however, in this weak state, and nervous debility of body and mind, gave me incessant and tormenting anxiety.

When I would occasionally whistle and sing to distract myself from the pain, my hostess would ask why. I explained that I did it to ease the pain. But I noticed she often thought that my strange behavior meant the fever and pain had driven me mad. However, my worries, in this weak state and with my nervous exhaustion, filled me with constant and torturous anxiety.

The close of each day gave rise to painful fears, for the events of the dreaded night; expecting constantly the breaking in of the guachas; and knowing too well their merciless ferocity. The nightly barking of the watchful dogs, giving notice of their approach, sounded in my ears like a summons bell, tolling for execution. I was not certain of living out an hour, nor was my chance of life of the value of a shilling.

The end of every day brought on painful fears about the terrifying night ahead; I was always expecting the guachas to break in, fully aware of their brutal fierceness. The nightly barking of the alert dogs, warning me of their approach, echoed in my ears like a death knell. I wasn't sure if I would make it through an hour, and my chances of survival felt worth less than a shilling.

One night, when all had retired to rest, and the guards lay snoring upon the floor, the dogs set up a roaring yell, and we soon after heard the tread of heavy footsteps, and violent thumping at the door. Pedro, who lay at my side, aroused the guards and opened it; while the soldiers and my hostess prepared for defence.

One night, after everyone had gone to bed and the guards were snoring on the floor, the dogs started barking loudly, and we soon heard heavy footsteps and loud banging at the door. Pedro, who was lying next to me, woke up the guards and opened it while the soldiers and my hostess got ready to defend themselves.

I saw by the moonshine, five hideous looking fellows, armed with swords and bayonets, standing before the door. A sharp parley ensued between[73] them and the guard. They said that they had orders to search the hut for any money or valuables, that the pilota, (myself,) might have recovered from the wreck. But the guard presenting their pieces, told them it was all false, and a contrivance to plunder; as they themselves were placed there by the General for my defence, and they would directly fire upon them, unless they instantly made off.

I saw in the moonlight five terrifying-looking guys, armed with swords and bayonets, standing in front of the door. A heated argument broke out between[73] them and the guard. They claimed they had orders to search the hut for any money or valuables that the pilot (me) might have salvaged from the wreck. But the guard, aiming their weapons at them, told them it was all a lie and a setup to rob us, since they were assigned by the General to protect me, and they would shoot at them immediately unless they left right away.

At this, they thought proper to make a speedy retreat, stealing in their way a horse from the field.

At this, they decided it was best to make a quick getaway, sneaking a horse from the field along the way.

I was now in anxious and daily expectation of some persons from Monte Video, to convey me from this fearful situation and dangerous abode. On the eighth day, I was agreeably relieved, by the arrival of two clerks, an Englishman and Spaniard, from Monte Video, in consequence of receiving my letters, from the house of the consignees, in order to effect my removal to the city, and also to endeavor to secure some part of the property.

I was now anxiously and eagerly waiting for some people from Monte Video to get me out of this scary situation and dangerous place. On the eighth day, I was pleasantly surprised when two clerks, one English and one Spanish, arrived from Monte Video after receiving my letters from the consignees. They were there to help me move to the city and to try to secure some of my belongings.

The latter they found totally impossible, nothing of value being now left on the strand, as all had been carried up country, by the natives.

The latter they found completely impossible, as nothing of value was left on the shore since everything had been taken inland by the locals.

I was extremely rejoiced at their coming, and we were soon concerting plans for my departure. Lines and posts of defence had been established between Toledo, the place where I was, and Monte Video, and these prevented any cattle or provisions being carried from the country to the Portuguese, in the city, whom they considered as invaders.

I was really happy about their arrival, and we quickly started planning my departure. Defensive lines and posts had been set up between Toledo, where I was, and Monte Video, which prevented any cattle or supplies from being transported from the countryside to the Portuguese in the city, who they viewed as invaders.

[74]

[74]

Oxen, therefore, not being allowed to pass into the city, mules not here to be procured, it was at last agreed that they should return to Monte Video, and send down a cart with mules, from the city. They slept one night at the hut, and on the next day, Sunday, departed; having seen sufficient of the character of the natives, and glad they had escaped the knives of the guachas, and vowing they would not venture their lives again among such a murderous crew, for the value of a ship and cargo.

Oxen weren't allowed into the city, and there were no mules available, so they finally decided to go back to Monte Video and send a cart with mules from there. They stayed overnight at the hut and left the next day, Sunday. Having seen enough of the locals' behavior, they were relieved to have avoided the knives of the guachas and vowed never to risk their lives again among such a violent group for the worth of a ship and its cargo.

On the eve of the next day, Monday, Pedro brought in the trunk which he had drawn from the beach at my desire, at the time of my discovery, and now opened it to examine what articles it might contain. He told me he had hitherto kept it secreted in the grass, in the rear of the cot; and had not dared to take out any articles to dry for fear of the deserters and Indians; for should they discover any thing valuable hanging out, they would certainly steal it, and search the house for more. But none of them being now near the house, he had brought it in to the side of the bed, for my inspection.

On the night before Monday, Pedro brought in the trunk that he had pulled from the beach at my request when I first discovered it, and now he opened it to see what it contained. He told me he had kept it hidden in the grass behind the hut and hadn't dared to take anything out to dry for fear of the deserters and Indians; if they found anything valuable hanging out, they would definitely steal it and search the house for more. But since none of them were near the house now, he brought it over to the side of the bed for me to check out.

It was a large black English iron-bound trunk, of the largest size, containing every article of clothing, but no money. These were all thoroughly wet, and many indelibly spotted and mildewed, the effects of the salt water. This stock of apparel was at this time a great acquisition to me, as[75] my whole wardrobe consisted of a borrowed shirt.[2]

It was a large black iron-bound trunk, the biggest size, filled with every piece of clothing but no money. Everything was completely wet and many items were stained and moldy from the salt water. This collection of clothes was a huge win for me at this point since[75] my entire wardrobe was just a borrowed shirt.[2]

Among the things he handed me, were a set of long muslin curtains for a state room; which the old lady begged I would give to her. And Pedro in his turn, thought that a couple pair of the pantaloons would make him happy as a cavallero; to which I readily assented, and told them I laid claim to nothing but their hospitality, for which I was a constant debtor.

Among the things he gave me were a set of long muslin curtains for a formal room, which the old lady asked me to give to her. And Pedro, in turn, thought that a couple of pairs of pantaloons would make him as happy as a gentleman; I happily agreed and told them I was only claiming their hospitality, for which I was always grateful.

At the bottom was found a large roll of papers, which he handed me, and carefully unrolling them, I expected they were a set of interesting manuscripts; but found them to be only a collection of beautiful colored French engravings; such as the four seasons, twelves months, subjects from scripture, Robinson Crusoe, &c.; in all about forty; which I requested Pedro to hang on a line overhead to dry, which he did. Most of the contents were then stowed again in the trunk, and Pedro dragged it back to its place of concealment.

At the bottom, there was a large roll of papers that he handed to me. As I carefully unrolled them, I thought they would be a set of interesting manuscripts, but instead, I found a collection of beautiful colored French engravings like the four seasons, the twelve months, biblical scenes, Robinson Crusoe, etc.; in total, about forty pieces. I asked Pedro to hang them up on a line overhead to dry, and he did. Most of the contents were then packed back into the trunk, and Pedro pulled it back to its hiding spot.

The next morning I awoke with earnest expectation of the cart from Monte Video; but I waited in vain; and evening brought fresh cause of fear.

The next morning, I woke up with high hopes for the cart from Monte Video, but I waited in vain; and evening brought new reasons to worry.

During this day, an Irishman, a laborer, who had lived many years in that country, came; and after some conversation with my hostess, requested of her the loan of a spade.

During this day, an Irishman, a laborer who had lived in that country for many years, came by; and after chatting with my hostess, he asked her to borrow a spade.

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[76]

He said he had but just come from the beach, and that several bodies of my companions lay exposed on the sand, and that the gulls were devouring them; that the Indians were too intent on plunder, and getting intoxicated, to assist in interring them; and that he would again go down to perform this christian office, and bury them in the sand.

He said he had just come from the beach, and that several of my friends were lying exposed on the sand, and that the seagulls were feeding on them; that the Indians were too focused on looting and getting drunk to help bury them; and that he would go back again to perform this Christian duty and bury them in the sand.

An old kind of shovel was mustered for him, and he went off with this laudable design. Returning the next day, he informed me he had buried several, and many bodies had come ashore in a shocking state; so broken and bruised that it was impossible to distinguish them; some, he said, were still in the surf, which he could not drag out; and of necessity, had to leave, ‘food for gulls;’ their bones, doubtless, at this day, lie bleaching on the sand.

An old type of shovel was brought for him, and he set off with a noble purpose. When he came back the next day, he told me he had buried several bodies, and many washed ashore in a terrible state; so broken and battered that it was impossible to identify them. Some, he said, were still in the waves, which he couldn't pull out, and had to leave behind, ‘food for gulls;’ their bones, no doubt, still lie bleached on the sand today.

I was still waiting with the most painful anxiety, for the arrival of the conveyance from the city; and no poor and condemned malefactor, in hopes of a reprieve, or pardon, ever waited with more emotion the mandate which should restore him his liberty, than I did for a passport and conveyance to the walls of Monte Video.

I was still waiting with intense anxiety for the transport from the city; and no miserable condemned criminal, hoping for a reprieve or pardon, ever waited with more emotion for the order that would restore his freedom than I did for a pass and ride to the walls of Monte Video.

The cannibals were daily and hourly growing more barbarous; and our danger every moment increased. I had every reason to believe that on this night, they intended to make a desperate attack upon the cottage, and to have murdered all in their power. But Providence otherwise ordered.

The cannibals were becoming more ruthless every day and every hour; our danger increased by the minute. I had every reason to believe that tonight they planned to launch a brutal attack on the cottage and kill everyone they could. But fate had other plans.

About sunset, the little lad came running into[77] the hut, from his play, exclaiming to his mother, that ‘a strange thing was coming towards the house.’ My heart throbbed a little at this notice, and soon after, as I hoped for, I was gratified with the entrance of the driver and guide, of the long wished for cart. They were cordially welcomed; and as they slept in the hut, I passed the night with a more temperate feeling, and a mind less apprehensive of a midnight attack.

About sunset, the little boy came running into[77] the hut from playing, shouting to his mother that "something strange was coming towards the house." My heart raced a bit at this news, and soon after, just as I hoped, I was pleased to see the driver and guide of the long-awaited cart arrive. They were warmly welcomed, and as they settled in for the night, I felt more at ease and less worried about a midnight attack.

To death, and to danger the most terrific, I had been exposed, and had faced them with manly firmness. I had escaped from wild beasts, and met the fury of elements, without shrinking; but the horrid prospect of having my flesh gashed and lacerated, by the knives of the savages, gave me infinite anguish; and heated with fever, rage and indignation, I could almost, at times, had it been in my power, have seized indiscriminate destruction, and like Samson of old, have sacrificed my own life to relieve it from such a state of torturing suspence, and to take revenge upon the blood thirsty ruffians; for here were men, if I may so degrade the term, (for they were not indeed in the image of their Maker,) ‘more fierce and more inexorable far, than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.’

To death, and to the worst kinds of danger, I had been exposed, and I faced them with courage. I had escaped from wild animals and braved the fury of nature without flinching; but the terrifying thought of having my flesh cut and torn by the savages’ knives filled me with immense pain; and, consumed by fever, rage, and indignation, I could almost have unleashed total destruction, and like Samson of old, sacrificed my own life to free myself from such torturous uncertainty, and to take revenge on those bloodthirsty thugs; for here were men, if I can degrade the term like that (since they truly did not resemble their Creator), ‘more fierce and more relentless than empty tigers or the roaring sea.’

The twelfth day came, and we were to depart. I hailed it with pleasure, as a day of second deliverance. The guide and the driver were employed in the morning, in lining the side of the cart with rushes, to keep off the wind; they had brought down[78] with them a bed, with coverings and blankets. The trunk was brought and laid across the fore part of the cart, by Pedro; while his mother was busy in wrapping me up within, for the journey. A great number of blankets and coverings, were also thrown over me. My feet were bound up in woollen, and a flag handkerchief was tied round my head; I had on, likewise, a large coat, loose pantaloons, and flannel underdress. A chair was placed at the hinder part of the cart, which now backed to the door of the cottage, from which I was lifted inside and placed upon the blankets at the bottom.

The twelfth day arrived, and it was finally time for us to leave. I welcomed it with joy, seeing it as a day of newfound freedom. The guide and the driver were busy in the morning, lining the sides of the cart with rushes to shield us from the wind; they had also brought a bed with covers and blankets. Pedro carried the trunk and laid it across the front of the cart, while his mother was focused on wrapping me up for the journey. A bunch of blankets and covers were also thrown over me. My feet were wrapped in wool, and a flag handkerchief was tied around my head; I was also wearing a large coat, loose pants, and a flannel undergarment. A chair was set at the back of the cart, which then backed up to the door of the cottage, and I was lifted inside and placed on the blankets at the bottom.

At parting I shook the hands of the kind old woman, and my deliverer, most heartily. A crowd of grateful recollections stifled for a moment my expressions of gratitude, and started the tears of overpowered feelings. I left them with fervent benedictions, and we drove off slowly on our way.

At the farewell, I shook hands with the kind old woman and my rescuer with great warmth. A flood of grateful memories momentarily choked my ability to express my thanks and brought tears to my eyes from overwhelming emotions. I left them with heartfelt blessings, and we drove off slowly on our way.

During our progress, I had leisure to contemplate my hopes and prospects; and my mind wanted no food or exercise in considering this odd journey, and in so odd a company.

During our journey, I had time to think about my hopes and future; and I didn’t need anything else to keep my mind occupied as I reflected on this strange trip and the unusual company I was with.

The sun beamed forth gloriously, and the day appeared delightful; and though I could not yet hear the busy hum of men, yet the cheering music of the feathered warblers, the sight of the vast plains on one side, and the boundless expanse of the great La Plata on the other; the novelty of my situation, the memory of past dangers, the many aids of Providence, whose unseen hand had protected me thus[79] far, and the hopes of future comforts yet in store, led my thoughts to adore that great and benevolent Being, without whose notice, not even a sparrow falls to the ground.

The sun shone brightly, and the day seemed wonderful; and although I couldn’t yet hear the busy chatter of people, the uplifting songs of the birds, the sight of the expansive plains on one side, and the vast stretch of the great La Plata on the other; the novelty of my circumstances, the memory of past dangers, the many blessings from Providence, whose invisible hand had protected me up to this point[79], and the hope for future comforts to come, made me reflect on and appreciate that great and generous Being, without whose attention, not even a sparrow falls to the ground.

Nothing remarkable, excepting one unlucky accident, happened on the road, which was the loss of the engravings. The guide, who was an ill looking and suspicious fellow, who lived in the vicinity, had collected them from the lines in the hut, and put them under the bed at the tail of the cart. When about half way on our journey, he suddenly dropped astern, and saying he could go on no farther, pulling out the prints, thrust them into his bosom, galloped off and vanished.

Nothing noteworthy happened on the road, except for one unfortunate incident: the loss of the engravings. The guide, who looked shady and untrustworthy, lived nearby. He had taken them from the hut and tucked them under the bed at the back of the cart. About halfway through our journey, he suddenly fell back, saying he could go no further. He pulled out the prints, stuffed them into his shirt, then galloped away and disappeared.

We were interrogated at the lines by some officers, who came out of a decent house by the roadside, as we were now near the city, who asked many questions, and allowed us freely to proceed; in a short time we gained sight of the gates of Monte Video; at which we at last arrived about 2 o’clock, P. M. Here I was also stopped by a number of Portuguese officers, who were tall and well looking men, who asked also many questions, having previously heard of the shipwreck; they expressed themselves glad to see me, and we drove into the city.

We were questioned at the checkpoints by a few officers who came out of a nice house by the road since we were close to the city. They asked a lot of questions but let us go on our way. Before long, we caught sight of the gates of Monte Video, and we finally arrived there around 2 PM. Here, I was also stopped by several tall and good-looking Portuguese officers who asked a lot of questions since they had already heard about the shipwreck. They said they were glad to see me, and we drove into the city.

The streets were not paved, but contained many large loose stones; and the jolting of the cart over them, which now went at a smart trot, gave me a severe shaking. The novelty of the sight drew many of the females to the windows; and I beheld[80] many wondering and fair faces, as I lay on my back in the cart, exposed to the view of those above me.

The streets weren't paved but were filled with lots of big, loose stones; the cart jostled over them, now moving at a brisk trot, and it really shook me up. The unusual sight attracted many women to their windows, and I saw[80] many curious and pretty faces as I lay on my back in the cart, exposed to the view of those above me.

We stopped at the house of an English merchant, the consignee, who immediately came out, and with many friendly congratulations, personally assisted his slaves in carrying me up stairs; passing along on the flat roof of the lower story, round the court yard, in the centre, to a small handsome chamber in the rear, which had been previously fitted up for the use of one of our passengers. His family consisted of his wife, likewise English, and an interesting and beautiful child, of about three years old. His lady, (whom Heaven bless,) was constant in her acts of kindness. I found I could not support myself in a chair, for this was the first time, since the disaster, that I had made the attempt, and was therefore helped to undress, and assisted to bed. This night I slept for the first time soundly; for I had reached the desired place of security, and my dreams were not disturbed by the clamor of the guachas.

We stopped at the house of an English merchant, the consignee, who immediately came out and, offering many friendly congratulations, personally helped his servants carry me upstairs. We walked along the flat roof of the lower story, around the courtyard in the center, to a small, nice room in the back that had been set up for one of our passengers. His family included his wife, also English, and a captivating and beautiful child, about three years old. His wife, (may Heaven bless her), was consistently kind. I found I couldn’t sit up in a chair since this was the first time I had tried since the disaster, so I was helped to get undressed and went to bed. That night, I slept soundly for the first time; I had finally reached a safe place, and my dreams weren’t disturbed by the noise of the guachas.

The next day, my trunk was opened, and the clothes washed and put up in the neatest order. Two whole pieces of black bombazette, and several dozen of white cotton hose and socks, were likewise found in it; which were sold, and brought me about thirty dollars.

The next day, my trunk was opened, and the clothes were washed and neatly organized. Two whole pieces of black bombazette and several dozen white cotton hose and socks were also found in it; they were sold and brought me about thirty dollars.

Here I was confined for nearly thirty days, and my leg shrunk in that time to as great an extreme as it was swelled before. By unexampled kindness,[81] I daily and rapidly improved; and in three weeks was able to leave the room, and sit outside of the chamber, upon the walk.

Here I was stuck for almost thirty days, and my leg shrank down to as extreme a state as it had been swollen before. Thanks to amazing kindness,[81] I got better quickly each day; and after three weeks, I could leave the room and sit outside on the walkway.

One of the owners of the ship happening at this time to be in Monte Video, instantly came to visit me, and hear the account of the loss of his ship. When I had repeated the occurrences, and related the hospitality of the old woman at the cottage, he immediately proposed a subscription among the merchants for her recompense, generously and nobly disregarding his own loss, though he was owner of half of the ship, and uninsured. There came also next day, notaries to take my deposition on oath, respecting the cause of the ship’s being thrown ashore. It was accordingly set down as occasioned by the violence of the storm.

One of the ship's owners was in Montevideo at the time and came to visit me right away to hear about the loss of his ship. After I recounted what happened and talked about the kindness of the old woman at the cottage, he immediately suggested collecting donations among the merchants to reward her, generously putting aside his own loss, even though he owned half the ship and it wasn't insured. The next day, notaries also came to take my sworn statement about why the ship was run aground. It was officially noted that it was due to the storm's severity.

I was often solicited by my kind friends, to have medical assistance; but this I constantly refused. I had never occasion for a physician, having, doubtless unreasonably, a prejudice against them; nature therefore took her course, and my leg, though once threatened with amputation, grew daily stronger, to the surprise of all who first witnessed my situation, and slowly resumed its natural shape; and in six weeks, I was able to take the salutary exercise of a walk, with a cane; to ride a short distance upon a gentle horse, and shortly after, eat at their table.

I was often urged by my kind friends to get medical help, but I always turned them down. I’d never felt the need for a doctor, having, perhaps unfairly, a bias against them; so nature took its course, and my leg, which had once been at risk of amputation, grew stronger every day, surprising everyone who had first seen my condition. It gradually returned to its normal shape, and in six weeks, I was able to take the beneficial exercise of walking with a cane, ride a short distance on a gentle horse, and soon after, eat at their table.

Gratitude must here be allowed a digression, to give vent to her feelings, and to prevent her devoirs at the shrine of benevolence. While under this hospitable[82] roof, all that could contribute to alleviate pain; everything that could add to my convenience and comfort; kindness, which anticipated my wishes, I enjoyed in its fullest extent. Though a distressed foreigner, I was treated as a brother; and though a stranger, ever welcome to their board. For three weeks, while on the bed of friendship, I was visited at the first dawn of the morning by the worthy merchant, who with his own hands would dress my wounds, thus emulating the example of the good Samaritan.

Gratitude deserves a moment to express feelings and avoid neglecting acts of kindness. While under this welcoming [82] roof, I experienced everything that could ease my pain; everything that could make my life easier and more comfortable, with kindness that anticipated my needs. Even though I was a troubled foreigner, I was treated like a brother; and even as a stranger, I was always welcome at their table. For three weeks, during this time of friendship, I was visited at the crack of dawn by the generous merchant, who would personally tend to my wounds, following the example of the good Samaritan.

His name, John L. Darby, Esq. I with pleasure record. A name well known to the mercantile community, at Monte Video; and while life continues, will with me be held dear.

His name, John Darby, Esq., is one I’m happy to acknowledge. It’s a name that is well recognized in the business community in Monte Video, and as long as I live, it will remain dear to me.

It would be well, if I could here conclude, and the hapless tale could now be ended. But as a faithful narrator, I am constrained to give its melancholy sequel.

It would be great if I could wrap this up here, and the sad story could end now. But as a loyal storyteller, I have to share its sorrowful continuation.

After I had been in Monte Video about six weeks, I received the shocking intelligence, that on the night of the same day on which I left the cottage, the merciless savages attacked and entered the hut of the old woman, and finding no opposition, as the guards had withdrawn to the encampment, plundered the hut of all she possessed, wounded the slaves who opposed them, and after repeatedly stabbing my worthy deliverer, finished with cutting his throat from ear to ear! How just are the words of the poet,

After I had been in Monte Video for about six weeks, I got the shocking news that on the same night I left the cottage, the ruthless savages attacked and entered the old woman’s hut. Since the guards had gone back to the camp, there was no one to stop them. They robbed the hut of everything she owned, hurt the slaves who tried to fight back, and after repeatedly stabbing my brave rescuer, they ended by cutting his throat from ear to ear! How true the words of the poet,

‘The ways of heaven are dark, and intricate;
Man, puzzled in mazes and perplexed with errors,
[83]
Sees not with how much art the windings turn,
Nor when the regular confusion ends.’

I was now rapidly gaining strength; my leg I could bear my weight on; and after remaining here two months, I was strong enough to take passage for Buenos Ayres, distant about a hundred and ten miles, farther up, and on the opposite side of the river.

I was quickly getting stronger; I could put my weight on my leg; and after staying here for two months, I was fit enough to catch a ride to Buenos Aires, which is about a hundred and ten miles farther up and on the other side of the river.

I arrived the next day, and found a great number of old acquaintance, who were very kind and friendly. A subscription paper was immediately handed round among the English merchants, by the goodness of the owners, Messrs. McFarlane and Eastman, to whose friendship I must ever remain indebted, and several hundred subscribed in an hour, and collected for my benefit. About two hundred were also collected for the benefit of the old woman at the hut, and two hundred more previously in Monte Video, and sent down to her.

I arrived the next day and found a lot of old friends who were really kind and welcoming. A subscription sheet was quickly passed around among the English merchants, thanks to the generosity of the owners, Messrs. McFarlane and Eastman, to whom I will always be grateful. Several hundred people signed up within an hour to raise money for me. About two hundred were also collected for the old woman at the hut, along with two hundred more that had been previously gathered in Monte Video and sent down to her.

I remained some months on account of lameness in Buenos Ayres, and applied for a passage in the Congress, Captain Sinclair, which was at that time ready to return home with the three commissioners which she conveyed out; but failing in this, I soon after had an application to the birth of first officer of a large ship; the Manhattan, of 700 tons, sent from the United States to be sold. Not succeeding in the sale, I entered on board an Enserada, and we proceeded to fit her for her return home in ballast.

I stayed in Buenos Aires for a few months because of a leg injury and requested a ticket on the Congress, Captain Sinclair, which was then preparing to head back home with the three commissioners it had brought. When that didn't work out, I soon after applied for the position of first officer on a large ship, the Manhattan, which was 700 tons and had been sent from the United States to be sold. After that sale fell through, I joined an Enserada, and we began getting her ready for the trip back home with ballast.

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[84]

On the 11th of July, 1818, we left the La Plata, and in forty days had sight of Bermudas. On the 12th of September, we anchored off Fort Henry, at Baltimore. I was detained here much against my will, twenty days, in settling the ship’s accounts, taking an inventory, &c. and she was publicly sold.

On July 11, 1818, we departed from La Plata, and after forty days, we spotted Bermuda. On September 12, we anchored near Fort Henry in Baltimore. I was stuck here for twenty days, which I didn’t want, dealing with the ship’s accounts, taking inventory, etc., and she was sold publicly.

On Sunday morning, October 4th, I arrived at my native place, Boston, after an absence of over two years; when I fully experienced the truth of the observation, that the unavoidable evils and misfortunes of life, afford by their contrast, a ten fold relish to its comforts, which are many, but which before were unprised.

On Sunday morning, October 4th, I returned to my hometown, Boston, after being away for more than two years; it was then that I truly understood the saying that the unavoidable hardships and misfortunes in life, by contrasting with them, make the comforts we have—a lot of them, which I didn’t appreciate before—feel that much sweeter.

The meeting of relatives must be conceived. I will only add, that safe in the embrace of parents and friends, forgotten like a dream, WERE THE PERILS OF THE OCEAN.

The gathering of family has to be considered. I’ll just add that, surrounded by the love of parents and friends, the dangers of the ocean faded away like a dream.

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[85]


[86]

[86]

APPENDIX.

[87]

[87]

THE SEA ... A SONG.

FIRST VOICE.
How frightful the sea!—how appalling and wild!—
With the howl of the tempest, the roaring waves pil’d,
And the black clouds contending together!
SECOND VOICE.
How fair is the sea!—and its quiet how deep;
The zephyrs breathe calmly—how soft is its sleep;
How sweet and inspiring the weather!
FIRST VOICE.
Here thunders the storm-king, in terror and gloom,
And soon yonder bark shall encounter her doom—
Dash’d, a wreck, and be heard of no more!
SECOND VOICE.
The goddess Eolia here trips o’er the sea,
And yon gallant vessel, so bounding and free,
Shall, in safety, again greet the shore.
FIRST VOICE.
The demons of night flap their wings o’er the wave;
’Tis the shark’s dread abode—’tis the sea-monster’s cave—
And perils unnumber’d abound!
SECOND VOICE.
The rainbow at eve glads the mariner’s eye,
And all the rich hues of a tropical sky,
Emblazon the horizon round.
[88]
FIRST VOICE.
The same sky above, and the same sea below—
Dark or bright, rough or smooth, all the change he can know;
For the sight of the land he’s in sorrow.
SECOND VOICE.
No duns here molest, and no creditors sue;
His bills are all paid, and his cares are but few,
And he smiles at the wants of tomorrow.
FIRST VOICE.
In his blest dreams of home, he’s arous’d from his sleep,
From fireside joys, to the roar of the deep;
And ‘Aloft! meet the storm,’ is the cry.
SECOND VOICE.
To the roar of the tempest he carelessly sings;
No fears to disturb, in his hammock he swings,
And visions of home hover nigh!
FIRST VOICE.
See the lover and friend, and the mother in tears!
Dread sea, thou hast ruin’d the promise of years,
And thy cruelty long they deplore.
SECOND VOICE.
Hark! the archangel’s trump shall one day thro’ the deep,
Wake to life and to light, the long lost ones that sleep,
And old ocean her dead shall restore!

[89]

[89]

RIO JENEIRO.

Rio Jeneiro, in English, the River January—probably so called from the month in which it was discovered—embraces the varied prospect of a bay incomparable in scenery, a smooth harbor, variegated with many pleasant little islands, which secure and embellish it; the shores on every side teeming in luxuriant vegetation, and where nature, dressed always in the robe of spring—gay as in her prime—sports in all her youthful vigor and beauty. On first beholding this coast, the mind of a stranger is struck with wonder and pleasure—he beholds mountains piled on mountains, of every shape and posture—some bending their enormous heads, as if to awe the lesser hills below, or rising in majestic pomp far above the highest range of clouds, which float and curl, like misty veils, around them. The city, St. Sebastian, is surrounded with a range of these high mountains, which rise at a short distance in the interior, and enclose it as in a semicircle. This barrier prevents the circulation of the pure mountain breezes, and occasions a pale and sickly appearance in the sallow complexions of the inhabitants; the streets, too, which appear like lanes to[90] an European, are narrow, and the houses lofty, which gives them, at first, a wild and gloomy appearance. The buildings are mostly of brick or stone, and plastered; but the eye of the pedestrian is soon diverted from them, and arrested by the endless change in the faces, dresses and complexions of the passing swarms that press about him, and throng this populous, transatlantic city.

Rio de Janeiro, which means "River of January" in English—probably named after the month it was discovered—offers a breathtaking view of a bay that is unmatched in beauty, featuring a smooth harbor adorned with many charming little islands that enhance its appeal; the surrounding shores are bursting with lush vegetation, and nature, always dressed in the attire of spring—vibrant as ever—displays all its youthful vigor and beauty. Upon first seeing this coastline, a newcomer is filled with awe and delight—witnessing mountains stacked upon mountains, each one uniquely shaped and positioned—some bowing their massive peaks as if to intimidate the smaller hills beneath, or soaring majestically high above the clouds, which float and twist around them like misty veils. The city of St. Sebastian is encircled by a ridge of high mountains that rise just a short distance inland, forming a semicircle around it. This barrier hampers the flow of fresh mountain breezes, resulting in the pale and unhealthy appearance of the residents; the streets, appearing to an European like narrow alleys[90], are cramped, and the tall buildings give them a somewhat wild and somber look at first. Most of the structures are made of brick or stone and covered with plaster; however, the pedestrian's attention is quickly drawn away from them and captivated by the constant variety in the faces, clothing, and skin tones of the bustling crowds that crowd this vibrant transatlantic city.

Here may be seen at one view, the well-fed priest pushing his fat body along, and the half starved slave who touches his cap to him, though he is sweating under the weight of a puncheon, which he assists in bearing along. The bold free negro, with his cocked hat, and the stiff, proud courtier, with his ribbands and stars; the thievish soldier off duty, watching a group of sailors over their pot of wine, at the chop house; and the strapping female slave, who cries ‘aick!’ and sells water, the weight of which, in the balanced vessel on her head, would crack any skull of less solidity than her own; the naval captain in his full dress, brushing by a noisy pack of young black children, with no dress at all; the begging friar from the convent, who fills his wallet with provisions, and never knew a different mode of living; the statesman in black, who kisses on his knees at the palace door, the one hand of the prince, while he is eating an apple, a favorite fruit, with the other; the royal guard of grenadiers, whose antique lengthy coats, make them appear like men of other days; the droves of blacks, whose skeleton shapes[91] bespeak them wretches just released from yonder slave ship—these may be seen at once.

Here you can see all at once the well-fed priest pushing his heavy body along, and the half-starved slave who tips his hat, even though he’s sweating under the load of a puncheon he’s helping to carry. The bold free Black man, wearing his cocked hat, stands alongside the stiff, proud courtier in his ribbons and medals; the sneaky soldier on break keeps an eye on a group of sailors over their jug of wine at the tavern; and the strong female slave who calls out ‘aick!’ as she sells water, the weight of which, in the balanced container on her head, would crack the skull of anyone less sturdy than her. The naval captain in his full dress brushes past a noisy bunch of young Black children, who have no clothes at all; the begging friar from the convent fills his bag with food and has never known any other way of living; the statesman dressed in black kneels to kiss the prince’s hand at the palace door while munching on an apple, his favorite fruit; the royal guard of grenadiers, in their old-fashioned long coats, look like men from another era; and the groups of Black people, whose thin frames show they are just released from that slave ship—these all come into view at once.

But where, oh, where, is lovely woman? To the face of whom, from the face of naught for tedious months, but boisterous waves and frowning clouds, the seamen with most pleasure turns. But here he turns in vain, for none are seen. The sounds too, which stun him, are as varied as the objects around. The ceaseless clang of a hundred bells, ringing too, rapid as for life and death; the song and chorus of the laboring slaves, at the quay; guns firing, rockets mounting, drums beating, chains clanking, and rocks blowing, would lead a stranger to suppose that they made all this clamor to drive away ennui, and disperse evil spirits.

But where, oh, where, is that beautiful woman? To whose face, after months of staring at nothing but rough seas and gloomy clouds, the sailors eagerly turn. But here he turns in vain, for no one is in sight. The sounds that overwhelm him are as varied as the things around him. The endless ringing of a hundred bells, sounding as urgent as life and death; the songs and chants of the workers at the dock; cannon shots, fireworks shooting up, drums pounding, chains rattling, and rocks exploding would make a newcomer think they were making all this noise to chase away boredom and ward off evil spirits.

The queen’s garden, at the extremity of the city, appears to merit most attention. It is very spacious, and is bounded on one side by the bay, against the wall of which the surf beats and roars, in great contrast with the scenery within. The walks are very neat, and some charmingly shaded from the sun, cool and solitary. But it is in the country only, outside the town, that the naturalist and admirer of untrammelled nature, may enjoy her richest banquet, for here she spreads her boards with boundless variety. The air, though at first rather too warm, is generally refreshed by the pure breeze of the mountains, and every thing appears bright and beautiful; the mind in the delightful region, unwittingly glows in unison with the cheerful prospect,[92] and insensibly imbibes the serenity and the grandeur of the surrounding landscapes.

The queen’s garden, at the edge of the city, deserves the most attention. It is very spacious and bordered on one side by the bay, where the waves crash and roar, contrasting sharply with the scenery inside. The pathways are well-kept and some are beautifully shaded from the sun, cool and secluded. However, it is only in the countryside, outside the town, that nature lovers and admirers of untamed nature can truly enjoy an abundant feast, as it offers a limitless variety. The air, though initially a bit too warm, is usually refreshed by the clean breeze from the mountains, and everything seems bright and beautiful; in this lovely area, the mind naturally resonates with the positive outlook, [92] and effortlessly absorbs the calm and magnificence of the surrounding landscapes.

On a Sunday afternoon, I took an excursion up the bay; on landing, I pursued the course of the beach, and was charmed with the stillness and the cheerfulness of the scenery around me. Here the sweet scented lemon tree, the orange, and the lime, extending even to the touch of the wave, afforded a delightful retreat from the blaze of a tropical sun.

On a Sunday afternoon, I went on a trip up the bay; when I got off, I walked along the beach and was captivated by the calm and bright scenery around me. The aromatic lemon trees, oranges, and limes reached right down to the water's edge, creating a lovely escape from the heat of the tropical sun.

The beautiful and nimble lizards, which I had thought repulsive reptiles, were playing about among the stones of the beach. The velocity of their motions, their sudden change of attitude, and their elegant and symmetrical forms—with their little green eyes, pointed noses, taper tails and spotted bodies, afforded a deal of amusement. We then bent our way into the interior. Here we travelled along at the foot of an immense hill, whose sloping sides were covered, as far as the eye could reach, with thick woods of oranges and other tropical fruits.

The beautiful and agile lizards, which I had thought were gross reptiles, were frolicking among the stones on the beach. The speed of their movements, their quick changes in position, and their graceful and symmetrical shapes—with their little green eyes, pointed noses, narrow tails, and spotted bodies—provided a lot of entertainment. We then made our way into the interior. Here we traveled along at the base of a huge hill, whose sloping sides were covered, as far as the eye could see, with dense forests of oranges and other tropical fruits.

In a little time we fell in with a party of merry making blacks, of both sexes, who were indulging, in all its glory, the jubilee of a Fandango. This is a sort of African dance of the negroes, of which they are excessively fond; it is performed by numerous evolutions, in which they sometimes join hands and form a circle, in the centre of which, are the indefatigable and sweating musicians, who, with their huge calabashes, kettle drums and reed pipes,[93] labor to make all the noise—if not the most musical—they possibly can. The dancers, more especially the women, are most fantastically arrayed, having on the head a cap or turban, ornamented with beads, ribbons and small looking glasses; a short, gay dress, a string of beads—negro fine—around their necks, and the wrists and ankles encircled by a string of castanos, a nut shell, the rattle of which, in the dance, keeps time to the music. No one can behold, with unruffled face, or with any degree of gravity, the negro Fandango. The ridiculous dresses, the expressive, though awkward pantomimic motions and gestures, the contortion of features, and the horrid music, present a strange and lively picture.

In a short time, we came across a group of joyful Black people, men and women, who were fully enjoying the celebration of a Fandango. This is a type of African dance that they love; it involves lots of movements where they occasionally join hands to form a circle, in the center of which are the tireless and sweaty musicians, who, with their large calabashes, kettle drums, and reed pipes,[93] work hard to create as much noise—if not the most melodious—as they can. The dancers, especially the women, are dressed in the most fantastical ways, wearing caps or turbans on their heads adorned with beads, ribbons, and small mirrors; a short, colorful dress; a string of beautiful beads around their necks; and their wrists and ankles are wrapped with strings of castanets, which rattle in time with the music as they dance. No one can watch the Black Fandango without breaking into a smile or showing some amusement. The ridiculous outfits, the expressive yet clumsy movements and gestures, the facial contortions, and the awful music create a strange and lively scene.

Proceeding a little further, we came in sight of a noble palace, which had been lately built, and which was surrounded by an extensive stone wall, having the grand gate-way, or entrance, arched, and bearing the arms of Portugal and John VI. On arriving at the palace, we found it was built of stone, surrounded by another solid wall. At a short distance, on the right, buildings of brick were erecting for spacious barracks. The situation was commanding and beautiful, and we little expected to enjoy, in a solitary country ramble, where the silence was only interrupted by the singing of birds, the view of so noble an edifice.

Going a little further, we saw a stunning palace that had recently been built, surrounded by a large stone wall, featuring a grand arched gateway with the coats of arms of Portugal and John VI. When we arrived at the palace, we discovered it was made of stone and encircled by another solid wall. Not far off to the right, brick buildings were being constructed for spacious barracks. The location was impressive and beautiful, and we didn't expect that during a quiet country walk, where the only noise was the singing of birds, we would get to see such an impressive structure.

On returning, we fell in with a number of female slaves, who were busily employed in washing. They stood in a large square basin of water, at least[94] three feet deep, and were jabbering and rubbing, with their trays on the banks. The country appeared well watered, and the soil very productive.

On our return, we came across several female slaves who were hard at work washing. They stood in a large square basin of water, at least[94] three feet deep, chatting and scrubbing while their trays were on the banks. The area seemed well-watered, and the soil looked very fertile.

In the city, the water is supplied by several public fountains, which are built of stone, in a pyramidical form, from the sides of which, through four spouts, the water is forced out in spattering streams. The principal one is at the head of the palace steps, near the square. The slaves, who get water from this source, to sell about the city, make a great clamor in their contentions about first getting their vessels under the stream.

In the city, water is provided by several public fountains made of stone and shaped like a pyramid. Water shoots out in splashing streams from four spouts on the sides. The main fountain is at the top of the palace steps, close to the square. The slaves who fill their containers with water from this fountain to sell throughout the city make a lot of noise as they argue over who gets to fill their vessels first.

Notwithstanding the vast crowds which throng the streets, not a woman is to be seen. Although I was at one time on shore daily, for three weeks, I could see no other females than the slaves.—They sometimes, however, take a ramble in the evening, but are so enveloped in cloaks that entirely conceal their form, that a stranger would pass them, and think them men. They may be seen, also, at the gratings of the upper windows on some days of parade and processions, and on Sundays may be seen leaving their palanquins to enter the church; but otherwise are confined, by tyrant custom, to their lone apartments. How different is their fate from that of the perambulators of Broadway and Cornhill! The population, including slaves, probably amounts to eighty thousand. Though there are guard houses for soldiers in many sections, murders are very frequent; so common, indeed,[95] that the dead body of the unfortunate victim, weltering in blood, is passed by in the street, with, perhaps, the exclamation of ‘poor fellow!’ but other wise unheeded and without concern.

Despite the large crowds filling the streets, there isn't a single woman in sight. During the three weeks I spent onshore every day, I only saw female slaves. They sometimes venture out in the evening, but they're wrapped in cloaks that completely hide their figures, so a stranger might mistake them for men. You can also catch glimpses of them at the upper window grates on days of parades and processions, and on Sundays, they can be seen leaving their palanquins to go to church; otherwise, they're kept confined to their rooms by oppressive customs. Their situation is so different from the women strolling down Broadway and Cornhill! The total population, including slaves, is estimated to be around eighty thousand. Though there are guardhouses for soldiers in many areas, murders happen frequently; so often, in fact, that the body of a victim lying in a pool of blood is just passed by in the street, perhaps eliciting a 'poor fellow!' but otherwise ignored and without any real concern.

There are many foreign merchants who reside here and in the vicinity, several of whom have their families with them; but the state of society must prevent the enjoyment of all social intercourse, and deprive them of those pleasures so necessary to the happiness of domestic life.

There are many foreign merchants living here and nearby, some of whom have their families with them; however, the state of society prevents any real social interaction and takes away the pleasures essential for a happy home life.

Fruits of many kinds, such as oranges, lemons, limes, plantains, bananas, cocoa nuts, &c., are very cheap and plenty. Sugar, rice and tobacco, they raise and export in great quantities; but should some of our chewers of the latter article witness the nauseous method of its manufacture and packing, by the dirty blacks, they would, I think, as I have seen others, eject the quid in disgust. The beef is bad and lean, the cattle being driven before they are killed, a great distance from the interior.

Fruits of all sorts, like oranges, lemons, limes, plantains, bananas, coconuts, etc., are really cheap and abundant. They grow and export a lot of sugar, rice, and tobacco; but if some of our tobacco chewers saw the disgusting way it’s made and packaged by the dirty workers, I think they would, like others I've seen, spit it out in disgust. The beef is poor and lean because the cattle are driven a long way from the interior before they are slaughtered.

Multitudes of the slaves gain a profit to their owners, by the conveyance of passengers in their canoes, to and from the shipping and the landing places. Their strife for employment is violent and clamorous; but it sometimes happens, if their price of fare—which must be paid on the passage—is not agreed to, the black rogue will dexterously capsize his canoe, tow it quickly to the shore, and leave you to be picked up by the first passing skiff that may take that trouble.

Many of the slaves make money for their owners by ferrying passengers in their canoes to and from the ships and landing spots. Their competition for work is intense and noisy; however, if the fare—which must be paid before the ride—is not settled, the crafty slave will skillfully tip over his canoe, quickly drag it to the shore, and leave you to be rescued by the first passing boat that takes the trouble.

The king’s barge is very splendid. His majesty[96] sometimes takes an excursion round the harbor, attended by his suite, and is rowed by eighty men, having twenty oars on a side, and two men to each. A band of music precedes him, and the numerous barges which follow, all handsomely decorated, form a magnificent spectacle.

The king's barge is really impressive. His majesty[96]sometimes takes a trip around the harbor, accompanied by his entourage, and is rowed by eighty men, with twenty oars on each side and two men per oar. A band plays in front of him, and the many beautifully decorated barges that follow create a stunning sight.

On Sundays and other holidays, the church processions are extraordinary. On a Sunday afternoon, soon after my first arrival in Rio Jeneiro, I witnessed a grand example of the above fetes. The streets were thronged with a gaping multitude, who were eager to pay their devotion to the rites of mother church. First in advance appeared a guard of soldiers, marching to slow music; these were followed by a number of citizens, dressed in black, each bearing a long, lighted, wax taper; then came a small guard of soldiers, followed by four beautiful females, dressed in light muslin, having wings of gauze, extended by wires, and crowned with a wreath of flowers, holding in their hands emblems of a harp; and immediately following, under a superb canopy, upheld by eight soldiers, appeared the grand object of all this ceremony, the reverend and holy Father of the church, to whom, as he moved along in mighty pomp and solemn show, the crowd on each side spontaneously dropped and bowed the knee. Another file of soldiers and citizens next came up, followed by the underlings of the church—some of various shades of color, even to sooty black, but who were, notwithstanding, arrayed in clerical robes—brought up the rear of this gorgeous pageant.

On Sundays and other holidays, the church processions are incredible. One Sunday afternoon, shortly after I arrived in Rio de Janeiro, I saw a stunning example of these celebrations. The streets were packed with a curious crowd, eager to show their devotion to the rituals of the mother church. First came a line of soldiers, marching to slow music; behind them were several citizens dressed in black, each holding a long, lit wax candle. Next was a small group of soldiers, followed by four beautiful women dressed in light muslin with gauzy wings supported by wires and crowned with flower wreaths, holding symbols of a harp. Right after them, under a magnificent canopy held up by eight soldiers, came the main focus of the ceremony, the revered and holy Father of the church. As he moved majestically and solemnly, the crowd on either side naturally knelt and bowed. Another line of soldiers and citizens followed, along with the church's lower-ranking members—some of various skin tones, including very dark, who were nonetheless dressed in clerical robes—bringing up the end of this splendid procession.

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[97]

LA PLATA.

In thirty four degrees south latitude, equi-distant from the equator as New York, is the grand and majestic La Plata. On approaching the river from the sea, the low and level land appears wholly different in appearance from the wild and towering front along the coast of Brazil.

In thirty-four degrees south latitude, equally distant from the equator as New York, lies the impressive La Plata. As you approach the river from the sea, the flat and low-lying land looks completely different from the wild and towering cliffs along the coast of Brazil.

This vast river is a hundred and fifty miles wide at the mouth, and extends, with a gradual contraction and in a winding direction, along the shores of Paraguay, in the heart of South America, a distance of twelve hundred miles. At Monte Video the water is brackish, and cannot be drank, but at a short distance above, though it appears at all times turbid and discolored, as if with the yellow mud at the bottom; the taste is sweet and palatable. A sealing ship was once cast away on the rocks of Faulkland Island, and a few of the hands with difficulty saved themselves in the long boat. Being on a barren land, they resolved, with one barrel of beef, which they had fortunately recovered, and a scanty supply of water, to commit themselves to the mercy of the waves in their frail bark, and pushed for the river of Plate. After a miserable passage and expending[98] their entire stock of provisions, they arrived at last, even to the inner roads of Buenos Ayres, ascended the deck of the first vessel they saw, and implored, ‘in the name of God,’ a draught of water!—having traversed over a surface of one hundred miles of good fresh water, for twenty four hours, not apprehending that it was fresh, and sailed dismally over it, perishing with intolerable thirst.

This huge river is one hundred and fifty miles wide at the mouth and stretches, gradually narrowing and winding, along the shores of Paraguay, right in the heart of South America, for twelve hundred miles. At Monte Video, the water is salty and undrinkable, but just a short distance upstream, although it always looks murky and tinted, like it's mixed with the yellow mud from the bottom, the taste is sweet and drinkable. A sealing ship once crashed on the rocks of Faulkland Island, and a few crew members barely managed to save themselves in the lifeboat. Stranded on this barren land, they decided to rely on the ocean for help, taking one barrel of beef that they had luckily salvaged and a limited supply of water, and set out in their fragile boat for the River Plate. After a difficult journey, exhausting their entire food supply, they finally arrived at the inner harbor of Buenos Ayres, climbed aboard the first ship they encountered, and pleaded, ‘in the name of God,’ for a drink of water!—having crossed a stretch of one hundred miles of good fresh water for twenty-four hours, not realizing it was fresh, and sailing sorrowfully over it, suffering from unbearable thirst.

The tides in the river, as far up as Buenos Ayres, are, in general, regular, except when influenced by strong and constant winds, and the rise and fall is about eight or ten feet. The bed of the river is of hard sand, and when the tides are low no boats can come near the shore, and many persons gain a living by conveying goods and passengers from the boats and craft to the shore, which is sometimes a quarter of a mile. The following fact will illustrate the power of the wind upon the water of this river. Many years ago, during the contest with Spain, a Spanish sloop of war was lying in the outer roads, distant at least seven miles from the city. A succession of strong pamperos,[3] in a few days laid bare the whole ground of the inner harbor, and the vessels and craft were left motionless and dry. The winds still continuing to roll back the waters, even the proud Spaniard, it was discovered, was laid bare to the keel. Preparations were immediately made by the patriots to attack her, in this her stationary[99] and perilous situation. A large body of artillerists, with some pieces of heavy cannon, descended the banks of the river, and were drawn along on the sand by horses, and all the bustle of a march, and preparation for battle, as on the tented field, were seen on ground which the winds had cleared for them, and over which the waves were wont to roar. The astonished Spaniards saw with alarm and consternation, the approach of an enemy on horseback, where a few days before their ship had rode in ten fathoms of water. They, however, prepared for a desperate conflict, being resolved to defend their ship, rather now their castle, to the last. Their fate appeared almost certain; but fortune, for once, favored them, and accomplished more in ten minutes, than their own greatest bravery. The action had commenced, when an unusual shout of triumph from the deck of the Spaniard, caused the assailants to look beyond, when with a dismay like that of Pharaoh’s host, they beheld the surge rolling in and roaring towards them! The battle ceased instantly—the alarm was electric—the traces were cut from the cannons—the guns were abandoned—and they gallopped off in full retreat, with the sea in close pursuit at their heels, and were precipitantly driven up again, by this new enemy, from the invasion of her possessions.

The river's tides, all the way up to Buenos Aires, are usually consistent, except when strong and persistent winds affect them, with a rise and fall of about eight to ten feet. The riverbed is made of hard sand, and when the tide is low, boats can't get close to the shore. Many people make a living transporting goods and passengers from the boats to the shore, which can be up to a quarter of a mile away. Here's an example of how powerful the wind can be on this river. Many years ago, during the conflict with Spain, a Spanish warship was anchored in the outer harbor, at least seven miles from the city. A series of strong pamperos, over a few days, completely exposed the inner harbor's bottom, leaving the ships and boats stranded and dry. As the winds continued to push the water back, even the impressive Spanish ship was found resting on the riverbed. The patriots quickly prepared to attack her in this vulnerable position. A large group of artillerymen, with some heavy cannons, made their way down the riverbanks, pulled along the sand by horses, creating all the commotion of a march and battle preparation, as if they were on a battlefield, in a space the winds had cleared for them, where the waves used to crash. The surprised Spaniards, filled with alarm and dread, watched as an enemy approached on horseback, where just days earlier their ship had floated in ten fathoms of water. Despite this, they got ready for a fierce fight, determined to defend their ship, or rather their fortress, until the end. Their fate seemed almost certain, but luck was on their side for once, achieving more in ten minutes than their own greatest courage. Just as the battle began, an unexpected cheer of triumph from the Spanish ship made the attackers look up, and with shock like that of Pharaoh's army, they saw the waves crashing and roaring toward them! The fight stopped instantly—the panic was electric—the connections to the cannons were cut—the guns were left behind—and they galloped off in a full retreat, with the sea close behind them, quickly forcing them away from invading their territory.

Monte Video is so called from the hill near the entrance of the harbor. It is on the eastern side, or ‘Banda Oriental,’ of the river. It has a good appearance[100] from the water; but on traversing the streets, there is nothing in the buildings to interest or admire. The houses are low, covering a great extent of ground; generally two stories in front, and but one in the rear, forming a square and a court or yard, in the centre. It is strongly fortified, and the citadella or castle well garrisoned. The city is now in possession of the Portuguese. In 1813 it was taken by the Patriots, who invested it by sea and land for a long period, and cut off all supplies. The famine was at last most distressingly severe, and means at which humanity shudders, were employed to gain a pitiful morsel to protract a miserable existence. With true Spanish obduracy, they refused all terms, till they sold for food all they possessed, and parents even bargained their daughters’ honor for a handful of bread. Every thing eatable, and every living animal was devoured—horses, cats and mules—and rats, with the immense numbers of which, the city was once overrun, either alive or dead, sold for a dollar each! The Patriots did not long hold possession of the city, for the Portuguese, who had always laid claim to the lower or eastern side of the river, as the southern bounds of the Brazil dominions, soon took possession of it, and are still its masters. During these occurrences, the Patriot General Artigas, of Buenos Ayres, taking offence at some measures of the government, ambitious and well informed, deserted the common cause, and crossed the river to[101] Colonia, where he soon mustered a formidable body of adherents, whom he urged to assert their independence of all other powers, and form a separate government, though they were before considered as equally concerned in the common cause of the country. Various detachments of troops were sent at different times from Buenos Ayres, to subject them, but without success, and but few returned. Artigas’ army being all mounted, would fly when success was doubtful. Thus affairs remained till a short time since, when this people, now called gente of the ‘Banda Oriental,’ declared war against the encroaching Portuguese, and attacked Monte Video. The other provinces of the La Plata, deeply concerned in the event, and being now on good terms, assisted them, at first secretly, and at last openly, against the common enemy. The Portuguese declared war against the Patriots in toto, and the privateers of the latter will greatly annoy the Brazilian commerce, and probably be gainers by the struggle.

Monte Video gets its name from the hill near the harbor entrance. It's located on the eastern side, or ‘Banda Oriental,’ of the river. It looks nice from the water, but when you walk through the streets, there's nothing in the buildings that stands out or impresses. The houses are low and spread out; typically, they have two stories in front and just one in the back, forming a square with a yard in the middle. The city is well fortified, and the citadel or castle is strongly garrisoned. It is currently controlled by the Portuguese. In 1813, the Patriots took it by surrounding it by sea and land for a long time, cutting off all supplies. Eventually, the famine became extremely severe, leading people to resort to desperate measures just to get a meager bit of food to continue living. Stubbornly, they refused all offers until they had sold everything they had for food, and even parents traded their daughters’ dignity for a handful of bread. Everything edible and every living animal was consumed—horses, cats, mules—and even rats, which had once overrun the city, were sold for a dollar each, whether alive or dead! The Patriots didn’t hold onto the city for long, as the Portuguese, who always claimed the eastern side of the river as part of Brazil’s territory, soon took control again and are still in charge. During this time, the Patriot General Artigas from Buenos Ayres became upset with some actions of the government. Ambitious and well-informed, he abandoned the common cause and crossed the river to Colonia, where he quickly gathered a significant number of supporters and encouraged them to seek independence from all other powers and establish a separate government, even though they were previously seen as part of the shared effort for the country. Various groups of troops were sent at different times from Buenos Ayres to bring them under control, but they failed, with very few returning. Artigas’ army, all mounted, would retreat when victory seemed unlikely. This situation continued until recently when the people now known as the gente of 'Banda Oriental' declared war against the advancing Portuguese and attacked Monte Video. The other provinces of La Plata, deeply invested in the situation and currently on good terms, initially supported them secretly and then openly against their common adversary. The Portuguese declared outright war on the Patriots, and the privateers from the latter will likely disrupt Brazilian trade and possibly benefit from the conflict.

Ensenada is a small village, situate on the same side with Buenos Ayres, and about forty miles below. Several vessels generally lay here to take in the jerk beef, which they carry mostly to the West Indies. The manner of preparing this is simply by cutting off the flesh of the slaughtered ox, and hanging it in the air to dry. No salt is used, such is the purity of the atmosphere in this delightful climate. The entrance from the river to the village is, as before related, through narrow, winding creeks, on[102] the sides of which, innumerable varieties of the feathered tribe, twittering from grove to grove and from spray to spray, and expanding their brilliant plumage to the sun, pour out their melodious strains of praise to the great God of nature, whose goodness is over all, and who delights in the happiness of all his creatures. The people are sociable and kind, and fond of the company of strangers, particularly Americans, whom they often amuse by their absurd and ludicrous questions respecting the customs of other countries. The houses are low, and built of earth and cane. The villagers are of a dark complexion, but many of the women are fair and have peculiarly sweet voices.

Ensenada is a small village located on the same side as Buenos Aires, about forty miles downstream. Several vessels typically dock here to load jerk beef, which they mainly transport to the West Indies. Preparing it is simple: they cut the flesh of the slaughtered ox and hang it in the air to dry. No salt is used, thanks to the purity of the atmosphere in this lovely climate. The approach from the river to the village is, as mentioned earlier, through narrow, winding creeks, where countless birds flit from grove to grove and from branch to branch, spreading their vibrant feathers in the sun as they sing beautiful melodies in praise of the great God of nature, whose goodness is everywhere and who takes joy in the happiness of all his creations. The people are friendly and kind, enjoying the company of strangers, especially Americans, whom they often entertain with their silly and funny questions about the customs of other countries. The houses are low and made of earth and cane. The villagers have dark complexions, but many of the women are fair and have particularly sweet voices.

Buenos Ayres, the capital of the provinces of the Rio de La Plata, has an ancient and gloomy appearance from the water; but the traveller, on landing, finds much to be pleased with. The streets cross each other at right angles, and are mostly paved, with good side-walks. A street runs along the beach, parallel with the river, nearly the whole extent of the city, from which there is nothing to shade the prospect of the pedestrian, who can enjoy, in his early rambles, the pure and balmy breath of the morning, (which are here, in this southern latitude, particularly fine) and behold the great king of day rising in the east, as from the bed of the ocean. At the edge of the water, and below the banks, he may see, too, from the earliest dawn till noon, an immense number of black washer women,[103] who line the whole extent of the shore, for all the washing is performed in this manner. They bring down upon their heads, large trays of clothing to the river, and select a hole or natural excavation in the tuskers of sand, which the ebbing tide has filled with water, and which is covered with grass; and kneeling upon the ground, with their pipes or cigars in their mouths, commence their labor, which is by beating instead of rubbing. They are, however, called excellent in their business, and clean clothing is considered by all ranks as an indispensable requisite.

Buenos Aires, the capital of the provinces of the Rio de La Plata, looks old and gloomy from the water, but travelers find a lot to appreciate once they arrive. The streets intersect at right angles and are mostly paved, with good sidewalks. There's a street that runs along the beach, parallel to the river, nearly the entire length of the city, where nothing blocks the view for pedestrians. They can enjoy the fresh and gentle morning breeze (which is particularly nice in this southern latitude) and watch the sun rise in the east as if from the ocean's bed. At the water's edge, and below the banks, you can also see many black washerwomen from dawn until noon, lining the shore, as all the washing is done this way. They carry large trays of clothing on their heads to the river and choose a hole or natural indentation in the sandy shore, filled with water from the receding tide and covered with grass. Kneeling on the ground, with their pipes or cigars in their mouths, they start their work, which involves beating instead of rubbing. They are known to be skilled in what they do, and clean clothes are seen as essential by everyone.

During the warm months of summer, it is the practice in which all ranks partake, to enjoy, after a sultry and dusty day, the charming refreshment of bathing. From an hour before sunset till dark, may be seen, in the place before occupied by the washers, a mixed multitude of many hundreds of both sexes, and of all classes and ages, old men and children, young men and maidens, promiscuously, and apparently with much pleasure, performing their daily and healthy ablutions.

During the warm summer months, it’s common for everyone to enjoy bathing after a hot, dusty day. From about an hour before sunset until it gets dark, you can see a large crowd of both men and women, from all walks of life and every age—old men, children, young men, and maidens—happily taking part in their daily cleansing rituals.

But start not my fair reader! Though this mixed assemblage, so employed, would appear to the refined citizen of the north to savor of a want of propriety, yet this luxury is enjoyed without any deviation from decency or good breeding. Such is the force of custom. Whole families, even the clergyman, with his household, come down and enter the water together. The females of all ranks generally form separate parties, and are each attended[104] to the water side by a female slave, who carries a change of dress and a bathing habit. Then seated on the grass and enveloped in a sheet, they disrobe beneath their ample covering, slip on the camisa, and trip into the water. There is no appearance of impropriety, but all seem only bent on refreshing themselves, and improving this ready and cheap bath, after the heat and the dust of the day. Let the following anecdote corroborate. I was one afternoon, after my disaster, indulging in my favorite recreation of swimming, at a time when the tide was fast flowing and the waves beating to the shore. I had reached some distance from the beach, and had gained and stood resting upon a small eminence at the bottom, with my head only above water. I was desirous of trying my former feats under water, and partly forgetting my disabled leg, I plunged beneath the surface and swam a great distance farther from the bank. On rising, I perceived the tide was fast conveying me up the river, and it would require my strongest efforts to recover the shore, for the waves ran quick and short. I wanted breath, and on the ability of my lame limb I had placed too much dependence. I attempted in vain to reach the Mole Head, and the lone sentry at the end stood wondering at the motions of an object so far within the stream. Finding my situation extremely hazardous, and wishing no impediment, I stripped off my nankin pantaloons, threw them to the waves behind me, and made a last, anxious and[105] resolute push to the land. I succeeded so far as to reach a tusker or sand bank, at the bottom, and on tiptoe I could keep my chin above water, and balancing myself to the undulating swell of the waves, I sufficiently rested myself, and luckily regained my pantaloons, which came drifting along by me. Taking a leg of this garment in my teeth, I ventured another stretch, which brought me breast high on the sand. I there drew on my covering, and searched along for my dress. Various groups had assembled on the beach during my aquatic excursion, and I was concerned for the loss of my clothes. A black, female slave at last came towards me, whose mistress she said had sent her to inform me that ‘she had removed my articles of dress higher up the banks, to a safe deposite, as the rise of the tide had threatened to sweep them away.’ I sent back for answer, that ‘I felt infinitely obliged to her, and would cheerfully, on a similar occasion, reciprocate the favor.’

But hold on, my dear reader! Although this mixed group, engaged in their activities, might seem inappropriate to the refined citizens of the north, this indulgence is enjoyed without any breach of decency or good manners. That’s just how tradition works. Entire families, even the pastor with his household, come down to the water together. Women of all social standings usually form separate groups, each escorted to the water's edge by a female servant, who carries a change of clothes and a bathing outfit. Once seated on the grass and wrapped in a sheet, they undress under their ample covering, put on the camisa, and wade into the water. There’s no hint of impropriety; everyone seems focused on refreshing themselves and making the most of this easy and affordable bath after the heat and dust of the day. Let the following story support this. One afternoon, after my unfortunate incident, I was enjoying my favorite activity of swimming while the tide was rising and the waves were crashing against the shore. I had swum quite a distance from the beach and was resting on a small rise, with just my head above water. I wanted to attempt my previous underwater feats and, partly forgetting my injured leg, I dove beneath the surface and swam even further from the shore. When I surfaced, I noticed the tide was quickly carrying me upstream, and it would take all my effort to get back to the shore since the waves were quick and short. I was running out of breath and had relied too heavily on my injured leg. I tried unsuccessfully to reach the Mole Head, and the solitary guard at the end stared curiously at an object so far out in the current. Realizing my situation was very dangerous and wanting to avoid any obstacles, I took off my nankin pants, tossed them back into the waves, and made one last, desperate push for land. I managed to reach a sandbank at the bottom, where I could keep my chin above water on tiptoe. Balancing myself with the rolling waves, I took a moment to rest and thankfully retrieved my pants, which were floating by me. Grabbing a leg of the garment in my teeth, I made another effort, which brought me up to my chest on the sand. There, I put my pants back on and searched for my clothes. Various groups had gathered on the beach while I was swimming, and I was worried about losing my belongings. Eventually, a black female servant approached me, saying her mistress had sent her to inform me that she had moved my clothes higher up the bank to a safe spot since the rising tide threatened to wash them away. I replied that I was incredibly grateful and would gladly return the favor in a similar situation.

At the extremity of the city, on an elevated plain, is the Plaza de los Toras, in the midst of which appears a vast amphitheatre for exhibiting the barbarous amusement, or rather cruel spectacle, of a Bull Bait. These take place in summer, of the afternoons of Sundays, and sometimes on other holidays. Their description must be shocking to the feelings, but the relation of the revolting scenes certainly may be perused, when many of the softer sex are there the applauding witnesses.

At the edge of the city, on a high plain, is the Plaza de los Toras, in the center of which stands a large amphitheater for showcasing the brutal entertainment, or rather cruel spectacle, of a bullfight. These events happen in the summer on Sunday afternoons, and sometimes on other holidays. While the details are likely disturbing, it's noteworthy that many women are present as enthusiastic spectators.

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The bulls are taken from the wild herds in the interior, and they capture those of the most fierce and wild character; in other words, those that will give the most sport. These are driven by force and stratagem into the adjoining stables, where their natural ferocity is increased for several days, by starving and goading, and otherwise tormenting them.

The bulls are captured from the wild herds in the interior, specifically targeting the most aggressive and untamed ones; in other words, those that will provide the most thrill. These bulls are forced and tricked into the nearby stables, where their natural fierceness is heightened for several days through starvation, prodding, and other forms of torment.

These exhibitions are generally fully attended, and by a third part ladies. The circular and rising seats of this amphitheatre, will contain and will afford an equal view of the fight to ten or twelve thousand. On one of these sights, I remember to have seen ten bulls, six horses and one human being killed, and another wounded, in the space of three hours.

These exhibitions usually have a full house, with about a third of the audience being women. The circular, tiered seating in this amphitheater can hold around ten to twelve thousand people and provides everyone with a good view of the event. I recall witnessing one of these shows where ten bulls, six horses, and one person were killed, and another was injured, all within three hours.

Every thing being ready, the bulls remained to be driven across the area from the stables where they were, to a smaller stable behind the amphitheatre, where each was to be kept apart. The first stable was not far from the amphitheatre, and a wall of boards six feet high was put up the whole way the bulls were to pass. At a quarter past four the ten bulls were let into the area, in order to be put into the stables at the opposite door; a man on foot led a tame ox, which had been bred with the bulls, before, to decoy them into these: they followed the ox very quietly; but they do not always do so. The three horsemen placed themselves at some distance, one on each side of, and the other opposite to the door at which the bull was to enter;[107] the tap of a drum was the signal to let a bull in, and the man who opened the door got behind it immediately.

Everything being ready, the bulls needed to be driven across the area from the stables where they were to a smaller stable behind the amphitheater, where each would be kept separately. The first stable was not far from the amphitheater, and a six-foot-high wall made of boards was set up along the entire route the bulls were to take. At a quarter past four, the ten bulls were led into the area to be put into the stables through the opposite door; a man on foot led a tame ox, which had been raised with the bulls, to lure them in. They followed the ox very calmly, but that isn't always the case. The three horsemen positioned themselves at a distance—one on each side of the door and one opposite it, where the bull was to enter; the sound of a drum signaled when to let a bull in, and the man who opened the door quickly moved behind it. [107]

During this last quarter of an hour the bulls had been teazed by pricking them in the backs; this is done by persons placed on the ceiling of the stables, which was low, and consisted only of a plank laid here and there, and between those planks was space enough to use any instrument for that purpose. The bulls were distinguished by a small knot of ribbon fixed to their shoulders, the different colors of which shew where they were bred, which is known by the advertisements.

During the last fifteen minutes, the bulls had been teased by pricking them in the backs. This was done by people positioned on the low ceiling of the stables, which had only a few planks laid across it, leaving enough space between the planks to use any tool for this purpose. The bulls were identified by a small ribbon knot on their shoulders, with different colors indicating where they were bred, as shown in the advertisements.

The bull made at the first horseman, who received him on the point of the spear, held in the middle tight to his side, and passing under his arm pit, which making a wide gash in the bull’s shoulder, occasioned him to draw back, the blood running in torrents; the force with which the bull ran at the man, was so great, that the shock had nearly overset him and his horse. It was then another man’s turn to wound the bull, as only one is to cope with it at a time. They are never allowed to attack the bull, but must wait the animal’s approach. The bull trotted into the middle of the area, and stared about, frighted by the clapping and hallooing of the multitude. The man on horseback always facing the beast, and turning when it turned; it then ran at the horse, and got another wound in the breast, and a third from the next horseman it attacked. It[108] was now become mad with pain, the blood issuing from its mouth in streams, and faintness made it stagger; its eyes ‘flashed fury,’ it pawed up the ground, and lashed its sides with its tail; its breath was impetuously discharged like smoke from its nostrils, so that its head appeared as if in a mist. A drum then sounded, which was a signal for the horsemen to retire; and the men on foot began their attack, sticking barbed darts into every part of its body; the torture they inflicted made the bull leap from the ground, and run furiously at one of the men, who jumped aside; the bull then turned to another man, who had just stuck a dart into his back; the man took to his heels, and leaped over the rails, where he was safe; in this manner all the men continued tormenting the bull, who could hardly stand through loss of blood. The drum then sounded again, upon which the matador appeared, with a cloak extended on a short stick in his left hand, and in his right a two-edged sword, the blade of which was flat, four inches broad, and a yard long; he stood still, and at the moment the bull in the agonies of despair and death, made at him, he plunged the sword into the spine behind the beast’s horns, which instantly made it drop down dead. If the matador misses his aim, and cannot defend himself with the cloak, he loses his life, as the bull exerts all its remaining strength with an almost inconceivable fury. The dead bull was immediately dragged out of the area by three[109] horses on a full gallop, whose traces were fastened to its horns. A quarter of an hour was elapsed, which is the time allowed for the murder of each bull, five minutes to the horsemen, five to the footmen, and five to the slayer.

The bull charged at the first horseman, who received it on the point of his spear, held tight to his side, and went under his armpit, creating a deep gash in the bull's shoulder that caused it to pull back, blood streaming down. The force of the bull's impact was so intense that it almost knocked over both the man and his horse. It was then the next man’s turn to wound the bull, as only one can engage it at a time. They are not allowed to attack the bull first; they must wait for the animal to approach. The bull trotted into the center of the ring, looking around, frightened by the clapping and shouting of the crowd. The horseman always faced the beast, turning as it turned; then the bull charged at the horse, getting another wound in the chest, and a third from the next horseman it confronted. It was now furious with pain, blood pouring from its mouth, and weakness made it stagger; its eyes blazed with rage, it pawed the ground, and lashed its sides with its tail; its breath rushed out like smoke from its nostrils, creating a mist around its head. A drum then sounded, signaling the horsemen to retreat, and the foot soldiers began their attack, thrusting barbed darts into every part of the bull's body; the pain caused the bull to leap off the ground and charge at one of the men, who jumped aside; the bull then turned to another man, who had just jabbed a dart into its back; that man ran away and leaped over the rails to safety; in this way, all the men continued to torment the bull, which could hardly stand due to blood loss. The drum sounded again, and the matador appeared, holding a cape extended on a short stick in his left hand and a flat, two-edged sword in his right, four inches wide and a yard long; he stood still, and at the moment the bull, in its agony and desperation, charged at him, he plunged the sword into its spine just behind its horns, causing it to drop dead instantly. If the matador misses his aim and can’t defend himself with the cape, he risks his life, as the bull unleashes all its remaining strength with incredible fury. The dead bull was immediately dragged out of the arena by three horses galloping full speed, their traces attached to its horns. A quarter of an hour had passed, which is the time allocated for the killing of each bull: five minutes for the horsemen, five for the foot soldiers, and five for the killer.

Another bull was then let in; this was the wildest and most furious of any I ever saw. The horseman missed his aim, and the bull thrust his horns into the horse’s belly, making the bowels hang out; the horse became ungovernable, so that the man was obliged to dismount and abandon it to the bull, who pursued it round the area, till the horse fell and expired. Four other horses were successively killed by this bull, which till then, had only received slight wounds, though one of the horses had kicked its jaw to pieces. One of the horsemen broke his spear in the bull’s neck, and horse and rider fell to the ground; the rider broke his leg, and was carried off. The footmen then fell to work again, and afterwards the matador put an end to the life of this valiant animal, whose strength and courage were unavailing to save it. The third bull killed two horses, goring them under the belly, so that the intestines hung trailing on the ground. The seventh bull likewise killed two horses. In this manner were ten bulls massacred, and the whole concluded in two hours and a half. The bull’s flesh was immediately sold to the populace at ten quartos per pound, which is about three pence.

Another bull was brought in; this one was the wildest and most furious I’ve ever seen. The horseman missed his target, and the bull drove his horns into the horse’s belly, causing its bowels to spill out. The horse became uncontrollable, forcing the rider to jump off and leave it to the bull, which chased it around the arena until the horse collapsed and died. Four more horses were killed by this bull, which had only suffered minor injuries up to that point, although one of the horses had shattered its jaw with a kick. One of the horsemen broke his spear against the bull’s neck, and both horse and rider fell to the ground; the rider broke his leg and had to be carried away. The foot soldiers then got back to work, and eventually, the matador ended the life of this brave animal, whose strength and courage couldn’t save it. The third bull killed two horses, goring them in the belly, causing their intestines to drag on the ground. The seventh bull also killed two horses. In total, ten bulls were slaughtered, and the entire event wrapped up in two and a half hours. The bull’s meat was immediately sold to the public at ten quartos per pound, which is about three pence.

When the last bull had been sufficiently wounded[110] by the horsemen, the mob were allowed to enter the area; they attacked the bull on all sides, and killed it with their knives and daggers. The bull sometimes tosses some of these fellows over its head.’

When the last bull had been sufficiently wounded[110] by the horsemen, the crowd was allowed to enter the area; they attacked the bull from all sides and killed it with their knives and daggers. The bull sometimes tossed some of these guys over its head.

It should be remembered that in the interior, around the circle, are double walls of oak, with sally ports to the inner one, and a passage way between them of three feet wide. These apertures are sufficient to admit a man, but the toro cannot enter. Through these, when hotly pursued, the gladiator will escape, and the bull vents his rage on the impregnable walls.

It should be remembered that inside, around the circle, there are double oak walls, with doors leading to the inner one, and a passageway between them that is three feet wide. These openings are big enough for a person to get through, but the toro cannot enter. Through these, when being chased, the gladiator will escape, and the bull takes out its anger on the strong walls.

A powerful black bull was now let in, and made instantly and without a stop, at the horseman, who stood ready, twenty feet from the door, with his spear firmly balanced and pointed to receive him. The aim was true, but the point struck a bone, which threw the horse upon his hind legs, and a lance twelve feet long, of an arm’s thickness, was shivered to pieces. The furious animal directly pursued his advantage, and the horse was overthrown, with the rider underneath him, whose case was at this time extremely dangerous. Generally, at the first wound of the spear, the bull will turn off in another direction; but when they push on, as those of a savage nature sometimes will, the horse is thrown to the ground, and the spearsman’s situation is, of course, very perilous. Such was the wonderful strength of the bull in this case, that the[111] struggling horse was lifted free from the ground by the surprising power of his enemy’s horns, apparently with the ease that an apple might be raised by a fork. With difficulty, however, the rider extricated himself, and attempted to fly. The gladiators on foot ran to his rescue, and attempted, with their bright colored mantles, to draw off the beast and divert him from his purpose; but mad with rage, and scorning their efforts, he jumped across the prostrate horse, (drawing out his horns from his body) and quickly pursued his biped foe. The latter strained every nerve to reach the port-hole, and one hand was even within it, but the horns of his pursuer were the next instant in his ribs, and he was impaled against the wall. He was an old man, of a dreadful, cruel and relentless countenance; had committed many unprovoked murders, and was once condemned to be shot; but he chose rather to hazard his life weekly against wild beasts in the ring, and at last, having been twenty years so perilously employed, was thus killed by a brute of a nature nearly akin to his own.

A powerful black bull was let in and immediately charged at the horseman, who stood ready, twenty feet from the door, with his spear firmly balanced and aimed to meet him. The aim was accurate, but the spear hit a bone, causing the horse to rear up on its hind legs, shattering the twelve-foot-long lance. The furious bull continued its attack, knocking the horse down with the rider underneath him, putting the rider in extreme danger. Usually, when the spear first strikes, the bull will turn away; but when they persist, as some wild ones do, the horse gets thrown to the ground, making the spearmen’s situation very risky. This bull was so incredibly strong that it lifted the struggling horse off the ground with its horns, as easily as one might lift an apple with a fork. The rider managed to free himself with difficulty and tried to escape. The foot gladiators rushed to help him, attempting to distract the beast with their brightly colored mantles, but the bull, raging and ignoring their efforts, jumped over the fallen horse (pulling its horns out of the body) and quickly chased after the man. The latter pushed himself to reach the port-hole, and one hand was even inside it, but in an instant, the bull's horns were in his ribs, and he was impaled against the wall. He was an old man with a dreadful, cruel, and relentless face; he had committed many unprovoked murders and had once been sentenced to death by shooting, but he preferred to risk his life weekly against wild beasts in the arena. After twenty years of such dangerous practice, he was finally killed by a beast whose nature was almost as brutal as his own.

At any feat of dexterity from the gladiator, handfuls of dollars are sometimes thrown by the rich spectators, which he deliberately picks up and pockets, amid the shouts of ‘bravo!’ and the waving of handkerchiefs.

At any display of skill from the gladiator, fans sometimes throw handfuls of cash, which he picks up and pockets while the crowd cheers 'bravo!' and waves their handkerchiefs.

A party will sometimes be seated and regaling themselves at a table opposite the doors in the lists, and a bull will be let out upon them, at which they[112] take to flight, with their bottles; except one bold fellow, who leaps from the table, vaulting over the bull’s horns, and lights straddling upon his back, facing his tail, while chairs, table, &c., are tossed about his head. At other times, a solitary fighter will be stationed on one knee, a few feet from the entrance, with a short thick pike, very sharp, pointed toward the door, with the butt end firmly fixed in the ground, and wait the victim’s approach. This is the most ready way of death; for the bull, driving at the object, makes fiercely for the recumbent and watchful foe, but drops before he reaches him, for the pike head is buried in his brain. But enough has been said of such heart-hardening scenes.

A group will sometimes be sitting at a table near the entrance in the arena, enjoying themselves, when a bull will be released onto them, causing them to scatter with their drinks; except for one brave guy who jumps off the table, vaults over the bull’s horns, and lands straddling its back, facing its tail, while chairs and the table fly around him. Other times, a lone fighter will be on one knee, a few feet from the entrance, holding a short, thick pike, very sharp and pointed toward the door, with the butt end firmly planted in the ground, waiting for the victim to approach. This is the quickest way to die; as the bull charges at him, it lunges for the crouched and alert foe, but drops before reaching him because the pike’s head is buried in its brain. But enough has been said about such heartless scenes.

We will now turn to a custom of less savage, and of a wholly different character—to the three holidays, (which they zealously celebrate) called the time of ‘Carnival.’ On these days, all business is suspended, and woe to the landed stranger, of whatever rank, who shall attempt to pass through the streets of the city. The flat and low roofs of the houses, are thronged with the women, whose slaves have provided them with a large supply of water in tubs, and with which they inundate the luckless passenger below. The field officer on horseback, and the poor paysano from the country, share alike the effects of their deluging streams—the horsemen will by speed attempt to escape the shower; but tubs are emptied far in advance, from the watchful throng above, in quick succession.

We will now look at a tradition that is less brutal and completely different— the three holidays, which they celebrate with great enthusiasm, called 'Carnival.' During these days, all business comes to a halt, and it's unfortunate for any landowner, regardless of their status, who tries to walk through the city streets. The flat roofs of the houses are packed with women, whose servants have brought them large tubs of water that they use to drench any unsuspecting passerby below. The field officer on horseback and the poor country person both face the downpour from above—the riders will try to escape the rain by riding fast, but tubs are emptied in quick succession from the vigilant crowd up top.

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The men are no less busy in the streets, annoying the other sex, who are frequently pursued even to their inner chambers. No offence can be or must be taken, and no redress may be expected for mischief done.

The men are just as active in the streets, bothering the women, who are often chased even into their private spaces. No offense can be taken, and no remedy can be expected for any trouble caused.

Many of the boys get a few rials, by the carrying about in baskets and vending of egg shells, filled with scented water and closed with wax, which the men buy and pocket, and pelt every female with them, who inconsiderately exposes herself to their attacks. On a time like this, I once saw from my lodgings, a party of a dozen, who assailed a house a short distance below, on the opposite side of the street. The windows have iron gratings from top to bottom, by means of which, a person can ascend and scale the walls and gain the roof. A part of these sporters made this attempt, while the women on the terrace, assisted by their slaves, discharged their torrents and poured a flood on the heads of the besiegers. They at last gained the terrace, and the women fled to their lower apartments, pursued by the enemy. Here they made a stand and beseeched their invaders to proceed no farther, and appealed to the honor and generosity of cavalleros, not to invade the privacy of a lady’s chamber. The appeal was effective, and they instantly desisted and turned to retire; but seeing the enemy’s magazines of water in large, low hogsheads, and the slaves who had so obstinately repulsed them standing near, they could not resist the temptation, and seizing[114] at once the screaming blacks, they deliberately plunged them headlong into the vessels, and made a speedy retreat.

Many of the boys make some money by carrying baskets and selling egg shells filled with scented water, sealed with wax. The men buy these and throw them at any female who unwisely makes herself a target. One time, I saw from my apartment a group of about a dozen who attacked a house not far away, across the street. The windows had iron grates from top to bottom, allowing someone to climb up and reach the roof. Some of the attackers tried this, while the women on the terrace, aided by their servants, poured buckets of water on their heads. Eventually, the attackers made it to the terrace, and the women ran to their lower rooms, chased by them. They stood their ground and begged the invaders not to go any further, appealing to the honor and kindness of gentlemen to respect a lady's privacy. The plea worked, and the men stopped and started to back off. However, when they spotted large, low barrels filled with water and the servants who had pushed them back standing nearby, they couldn't resist the temptation. They grabbed the screaming servants and tossed them straight into the barrels before making a quick getaway.

The Theatre is a low and miserable looking edifice, (though a new one was remaining unfinished) and the performers at a par with the building. It is, however, well attended, and the second or upper range of seats is filled wholly with women. The prompter’s head appears from an aperture in the centre of the stage, with a lamp before him, and whose voice is as audible as the players, who repeat after him. I went once to see Shakspeare murdered, and a scene in the afterpiece furnished a circumstance that will afford a finishing picture to this brief outline. The farce was called the ‘Haunted House,’ the possessor of which wished to get rid of his nocturnal and troublesome visiters. He had summoned a procession of the holy order to purify the premises; but the number of players, otherwise fully engaged, being too small for this purpose, they hit upon a very ready though outre expedient to supply the deficiency. The church of San Domingo stood on the opposite corner, and application was there made, upon the pinch, for a supply of its disciples, and a dozen were engaged at a rial a piece. These shortly appeared upon the stage, in propria persona, with belt and hood, and holy water, which they sprinkled profusely around, chaunting ‘Anda te diablo.’

The theatre looks like a run-down, miserable building, (even though a new one is left unfinished), and the performers match the venue. However, it gets a decent crowd, with the upper tier completely filled with women. The prompter's head pops up from a hole in the center of the stage, with a lamp in front of him, and his voice is as clear as the actors, who echo what he says. I once went to see Shakespeare's work get messed up, and a scene in the afterpiece gave me a moment that sums up this quick overview. The farce was called "The Haunted House," where the owner wanted to get rid of his annoying nighttime visitors. He called for a group of monks to bless the place but realized there were too few actors available. So, they came up with a quick but unusual solution to fill the gap. The church of San Domingo was on the opposite corner, and in a pinch, they asked for some of its members, hiring a dozen at a rial each. They soon appeared on stage, in full attire, with belts and hoods, sprinkling holy water everywhere while chanting “Anda te diablo.”

There is a conveyance—a clumsy vehicle, drawn[115] by six horses—which leaves here once a month for Chili, proceeding as far as the foot of the Andes. Here, leaving their horses, the travellers are obliged to mount on mules, as being more sure footed than horses, and the passages over the mountains are, at certain places, narrow and dangerous. The mule only can be here rode with safety, on account of the narrow passages winding along the sides of these stupendous mountains. The astonished traveller, when traversing along this ridge of frightful precipices, beholds with dismay the yawning chasms beneath him, where the least mis-step would infallibly and irrecoverably plunge him in the fearful abyss below. He follows, in breathless silence, the slow and steady motions of his guide, who directs him to slack his reins, to preserve perfect silence, to leave the beast to its own guidance, and even if tottering with dizziness, to close his eyes. These injunctions need no repetition. Sometimes, in the lower places, in thick and misty weather, the guides will lose the track and wander till they regain it several days in the snow. This a Dutch captain once told me was his case, and he was much harrassed by the hard riding, and sick even at the sight of a horse. The passage is generally performed in about twenty days, and the distance from Buenos Ayres to St. Jago or Lima, is about four hundred leagues.

There’s a vehicle—a clumsy one, pulled[115] by six horses—that leaves here once a month for Chile and goes as far as the base of the Andes. Here, travelers have to swap their horses for mules, which are more sure-footed, since some mountain paths are narrow and dangerous. Only mules can be safely ridden in these areas due to the narrow trails winding along the steep mountains. The astonished traveler, while navigating along this ridge of terrifying cliffs, looks down, horrified, at the gaping chasms below, where even the smallest misstep could send him plummeting into the abyss. He silently follows the slow, steady movements of his guide, who advises him to loosen the reins, stay completely quiet, let the mule find its own way, and to even close his eyes if he feels dizzy. These instructions are never forgotten. Sometimes, in the lower regions, during thick and misty weather, guides can lose the trail and take days to find it again in the snow. A Dutch captain once shared with me that this happened to him, and he was exhausted from the rough riding and even sick at the sight of a horse. The journey usually takes about twenty days, covering a distance of around four hundred leagues from Buenos Aires to Santiago or Lima.

During the war with the royalists in the interior, the Buenos Ayrean troops gained many important victories. On these occasions the public square was splendidly decorated, having arches formed of large[116] trees, and on the branches in the centre of each of these, were suspended lamps, and all the verdant pillars were profusely supplied with large wax candles, of a yard in length and of an arm’s thickness, as well as the monument in the centre, which, when lighted in the evening, produce the brilliancy of a noon-day blaze.

During the war with the royalists in the interior, the Buenos Aires troops achieved several key victories. During these times, the public square was beautifully decorated, featuring arches made of large trees. Hanging from the branches in the center of each arch were lamps, and all the green pillars were generously adorned with big wax candles, each a yard long and as thick as an arm. The monument in the center was also lit up in the evening, creating a brightness comparable to that of midday.

A large platform was erected on one of these occasions, in the midst of the square, and a grand dance performed by a volunteer party of young gentlemen, who were arrayed in the fashion of the native Peruvians, having a flesh colored velvet dress, with a band of large variegated feathers around their heads, and another about the loins. They went through the evolutions with much grace and received great applause. The music was by a superior band, which was placed on an elevated station a short distance from them.

A large platform was set up in the middle of the square for one of these events, and a fantastic dance was put on by a group of young volunteers dressed like the native Peruvians. They wore flesh-colored velvet outfits, with a band of colorful feathers around their heads and another around their waists. They showcased their moves with great style and received a lot of applause. The music was provided by a talented band positioned a short distance away from them.

Horses, bullocks, dogs and sheep, in these vast regions, run wild, in immense flocks and herds. The swine are of small size, and always black. The hunters, at certain seasons, form parties to procure the hides and tallow of the wild cattle, and leave the carcases to be devoured by the dogs.

Horses, cattle, dogs, and sheep roam freely in these vast areas, gathering in large flocks and herds. The pigs are small and always black. During certain seasons, hunters gather in groups to collect the hides and fat from the wild cattle, leaving the carcasses for the dogs to eat.

These latter animals abound here in infinite variety and numbers. Here may be seen the bull dog, mastiff, pointer, water dog, terrier, spaniel, butcher, shepherd, and ship dog, and sometimes all in a company together. Some of them are of formidable size, and often dangerous to the traveller, as I once experienced.

These animals are everywhere here, in countless varieties and numbers. You can see bulldogs, mastiffs, pointers, water dogs, terriers, spaniels, butchers, shepherds, and ship dogs, sometimes all together in one place. Some of them are quite large and can be dangerous to travelers, as I found out once.

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On a lovely morning—during my lameness—in the month of February, which is, in this latitude, mid-summer, I took my fowling piece, and at day break sauntered along the river side after game. Before the sun rises, ducks are often plenty about the little ponds at the extremity of the city. I wanted to try my gun, and a drove of horses passing slowly along enabled me to approach within shot of a couple of large birds, like cranes, which were stalking about in the water. I fired and killed one and wounded the other, who made off with his broken wing into the water, and the dead one I drew up on the beach and hid him in the grass, resolving to take him on my return. He measured nearly five feet high, his legs being two feet long, of a bright red; his neck was very long, and his body covered with beautiful snow white plumage. Proceeding, I found the ducks were, at this time, unusually shy, and I had got but half a dozen. I then put in a heavier charge and larger shot, in hopes of touching a group of swans which I saw in a small pond far ahead, but could not get near them, and the sun being now up, I resolved to strike across the fields and gain the high road to the city, from which I had wandered nearly two miles. In passing through some olive trees, I was started by a rustling noise on my left, which caused me to turn round, when I saw a large dog cutting through the bushes, open mouthed, towards me! As I knew I must fight, for I could not run, I grounded the[118] breech of my gun, and in an erect and steady attitude, hoping to dismay him, awaited his coming up. He soon did so, making directly towards me, and trying, with great ferocity, to get a bite at my leg behind. This I found he soon would succeed in, and with a quick movement I altered my position, and bending down, presented my piece with the muzzle to his head, and following him round as he endeavored to get behind me, he being within a few inches, I hastily cocked and fired. He received in his shoulder the whole charge of swan shot, yet desisted not. Seizing then the barrel, I gave him a blow with the butt of the gun, and forced him to yield, when he set up a yell, and went howling upon three legs. I instantly began to reload, for I saw a second dog, equally formidable, approaching at full speed, to assist his companion. The latter luckily fell down as the second dog reached him, who smelt for a moment about his prostrate comrade, then turned tail and retreated.

On a beautiful morning—during my injury—in February, which is mid-summer in this area, I grabbed my shotgun and strolled along the riverbank looking for game at dawn. Before sunrise, there are often a lot of ducks around the small ponds at the edge of the city. I wanted to test my gun, and a group of horses passing by allowed me to get close enough to a couple of large birds, similar to cranes, that were wading in the water. I shot one and wounded the other, which flew off with a broken wing into the water. I pulled the dead one onto the shore and hid it in the grass, planning to take it with me on my way back. It was nearly five feet tall, with two-foot-long bright red legs, a long neck, and its body covered in gorgeous snow-white feathers. As I continued, I noticed that the ducks were unusually skittish, and I only managed to catch about six. I then loaded a heavier charge with larger shot, hoping to hit a group of swans I spotted in a small pond up ahead, but I couldn't get close. With the sun now up, I decided to cut across the fields and make my way back to the main road to the city, from which I had wandered nearly two miles. While passing through some olive trees, I was startled by rustling noises to my left, and when I turned, I saw a large dog charging through the bushes toward me with its mouth open! Knowing I had to fight since I couldn’t run, I grounded the breech of my gun and stood tall, hoping to intimidate it as it approached. It came right up to me, trying fiercely to bite my leg from behind. I realized it would succeed soon, so with a quick move, I changed my position and bent down, aiming the barrel at its head. As it tried to sneak behind me, I kept it in my sights and quickly cocked and fired. The entire load of swan shot hit its shoulder, but it didn’t back down. Then I grabbed the barrel and swung the butt of the gun at it, forcing it to retreat with a yelp, running on three legs. I immediately began to reload, seeing a second equally fierce dog rushing in to help its friend. Fortunately, the first dog collapsed just as the second reached him. The second dog sniffed around its fallen companion for a moment before turning and running away.

The milk is brought in and cried about the city by country boys, from seven to fourteen years old, on horseback, who have a peculiar song of their own, which I never could interpret, by which they give notice of their approach. The milk is contained in earthen jugs, placed in panniers made of hide, on each side of the horse, holding three jugs each. Notwithstanding the infinity of horses, I never saw a mare in the streets of Buenos Ayres; and a person riding one would be subject to derision[119] and abuse, as much as if he were mounted on a cow, mares being kept only for breeding. Horses may here be bought from one to twenty dollars, but mules are much more valuable—not for being less plenty, but because they are more difficult to tame, and are truly of a most perverse and obstinate nature. They are sometimes exported to the Cape of Good Hope.

The milk is brought into the city by country boys, aged seven to fourteen, riding horses. They have a unique song that I could never figure out, which signals their approach. The milk is carried in clay jugs placed in leather panniers on either side of the horse, with three jugs on each side. Despite the many horses, I've never seen a mare on the streets of Buenos Aires; someone riding one would be laughed at and insulted, just as if they were riding a cow, since mares are only kept for breeding. Horses can be bought here for anywhere from one to twenty dollars, but mules are much more valuable—not because they are rarer, but because they are harder to train and have a truly stubborn and difficult disposition. They are sometimes exported to the Cape of Good Hope.[119]

A vessel at sea had once a cargo of these beasts on board, when a violent storm arose, in which they broke from their fasts in the hold and ascended upon deck; here they fell to kicking and biting, and drove the mariners aloft, and the man at the helm also fled. The bark carried away her masts, and every thing threatened a wreck. At last, by the help of some spars, they succeeded in pushing a dozen of their mad passengers overboard; and driving the rest below, regained command of the ship, and put back for repairs.

A ship at sea once had a load of these animals on board when a violent storm hit, causing them to break free from their restraints in the hold and come up onto the deck. They began kicking and biting, forcing the crew to climb the rigging, and even the helmsman ran away. The ship lost its masts, and everything seemed doomed to sink. Finally, with the help of some spare wood, they managed to push a dozen of the frenzied animals overboard and got the rest back below deck, regaining control of the ship and heading back for repairs.

Leopards, lions and wild cats are plenty, but I do not think their natures so savage as those of Africa. The leopards, which they call tigres, are very large, and their beautiful skins are sold very cheap.

Leopards, lions, and wild cats are abundant, but I don't believe their nature is as savage as that of Africa. The leopards, which they refer to as tigres, are quite large, and their beautiful skins are sold at a very low price.

The ostriches are very strong birds, and will ride a stout boy on their backs. They eat the most indigestive substances, such as iron, stone and wood. They are a coarse and dirty looking bird, and those bright and tasty feathers they afford, are plucked from their tails, where the long ones only grow.

The ostriches are really strong birds and can carry a sturdy boy on their backs. They eat some of the most indigestible things, like iron, stone, and wood. They look rough and dirty, and the bright, beautiful feathers they provide are harvested from their tails, where only the long ones grow.

Fruits of many kinds are plenty, especially melons,[120] grapes and peaches. These, as well as every thing else in this most fertile country, are cultivated with little labor, and the soil, I believe, would produce, in abundance and perfection, every thing desired, if the natives were not too careless and indolent to bestow an effort to cultivate them. This indolence, it has been said, may be attributed to this very fertility of soil and softness of climate, and as the earth here gives her increase without much labor, they have not the necessity for toil as those of a less yielding and more rocky region.

Fruits of many kinds are abundant, especially melons,[120] grapes, and peaches. These, along with everything else in this incredibly fertile land, are grown with minimal effort, and I believe the soil could produce everything desired in abundance and quality if the locals weren't too careless and lazy to put in the work to cultivate them. This laziness, some say, can be linked to the very fertility of the soil and the mildness of the climate, and since the earth here yields its bounty with little effort, there's no pressing need for hard work like there is in less fertile and more rugged areas.

The general character of the people of these vast provinces is mild and peaceable; they are rather indolent, but hospitable in the extreme. They are incessant smokers, and fond of a sip from a gourd shell of the favorite yerba, rather than the stronger liquors. This yerba is an indispensable beverage with all ranks, and is instantly made by merely pouring hot water (which is ever at hand) to the matte, in the shell. They suck this very hot, through a tube. This liquor is always offered to visiters, and passed and repassed from guest to guest.

The general character of the people in these vast provinces is calm and easygoing; they are somewhat lazy but extremely friendly. They smoke constantly and prefer sipping from a gourd shell of their favorite yerba rather than stronger drinks. This yerba is a must-have beverage for everyone and is quickly made by simply pouring hot water (which is always available) into the matte in the shell. They drink it very hot through a tube. This drink is always offered to visitors and is shared back and forth between guests.

The women are generally below the usual stature, with expressive black eyes, black hair, flute-like voices, and dress and walk when abroad with much circumspection, and flirt the fan—their constant appendage—with exquisite grace and skill. The complexions of some are tinged; but many, as I before observed, are extremely fair; and some, I have thought, approached, in form and feature, the[121] nearest to the perfection of beauty of any I had ever seen. The country girls smoke cigars, and all the sex are extremely fond of flowers, which they rear in great profusion and in infinite variety. On entering the hospitable and social dwellings of the farmers, the matte cup, the cigar and a bunch of flowers, are always presented. They are remarkably temperate, and I have often seen the teamsters at a pulperia or shop, passing around a single glass of aguadente, or rum, which they would leisurely sip, and which was amply sufficient for half a dozen men.

The women are generally shorter than average, with expressive black eyes, black hair, flute-like voices, and they dress and walk with a lot of grace when out in public, elegantly flirting with their fans, which are always by their side. Some have complexions that are slightly tanned, but many, as I mentioned before, are extremely fair; and some, I believe, come closest to the ideal of beauty I have ever seen. The country girls smoke cigars, and all the women are very fond of flowers, which they grow in abundance and in a wide variety. When entering the welcoming and social homes of the farmers, you are always offered a matte cup, a cigar, and a bunch of flowers. They are quite moderate in their drinking, and I have often seen the teamsters at a pulperia or shop passing around a single glass of aguadente or rum, which they sip leisurely, and it was more than enough for half a dozen men.

The country carts, in which they transport their produce from the interior, deserve notice. They are the most awkward, heavy and singular vehicles ever seen; and one of them passing through our streets, would attract as much notice as a moving menagerie. The cart is, in fact, about the height of a two story house, the sides and roof formed of flags and cane, but the bottom of hard and solid wood, which, with the wheels, are monstrously clumsy. On the front part of the wagon, under the arched roof, in an elevated station, sits the driver. Over his head is suspended and poised, a stout pole, of great length, which extends from the cart to the foremost of the six yoke of oxen; the end of this is spear-pointed, and by moving the inner end, he can touch and guide the leading yoke. In his hand he holds a shorter pole, also pointed, with which he governs the nearer cattle. Lashed on with hide[122] strings, at the tail of the cart, is a large earthen jar, of twenty gallons, to contain water. Thus furnished, the machine moves at a slow pace, and as they never grease the axles, the creak of the wheels may be heard a mile distant.

The country carts that they use to transport their produce from the interior really stand out. They are the most awkward, heavy, and unique vehicles you've ever seen; one passing through our streets would draw just as much attention as a moving circus. The cart is about the height of a two-story house, with sides and roof made of flags and cane, but the bottom is solid wood, making it incredibly clumsy along with the wheels. The driver sits in an elevated position at the front under the arched roof. Above him is a sturdy, long pole that stretches from the cart to the lead oxen in the six-yoke team; the end of this pole has a sharp tip, allowing him to touch and guide the lead yoke by moving the inner end. In his hand, he holds a shorter pointed pole to control the nearby cattle. Tied to the back of the cart with hide strings is a large twenty-gallon earthen jar for water. With all this, the cart moves slowly, and since they never grease the axles, you can hear the creaking of the wheels from a mile away.

When the caravan halts to encamp, they choose a vacant and convenient place, and making a fire, prepare for supper. They drive stakes into the ground, on which, against the fire, they stretch a piece of beef to roast, and then squatting in a circle around, and with a kettle of matte only, thus eat their simple but plentiful meal, with great relish, without bread or salt, the remnants of which last them through the next day.

When the caravan stops to set up camp, they pick a spot that's open and convenient, and after starting a fire, they get ready for dinner. They drive stakes into the ground, on which they hang a piece of beef to roast over the fire. Then, sitting in a circle and with just a kettle of matte, they enjoy their simple but plentiful meal with great appetite, without any bread or salt, and the leftovers make it through to the next day.

At the vesper hour in the city, at sun set, the stranger who walks the streets is amazed at the sudden and simultaneous stop of the passing multitude at the solemn toll of the bell. Looking around him, he sees each uncovered passenger standing like a statue, and every sound is hushed to silence.

At dusk in the city, as the sun sets, the stranger walking the streets is struck by the sudden and simultaneous halt of the crowd at the solemn ringing of the bell. Looking around, he sees each uncovered passerby standing still like a statue, and every sound fades into silence.

In passing a church, all ranks lift the hat; even the milk boy, and the abovementioned wagoner, will simultaneously raise his sombrero.

In passing by a church, everyone tips their hat; even the milk kid and the previously mentioned wagon driver will simultaneously raise his sombrero.

Another equally superstitious and universal custom deserves a passing notice. I was once, on a fine afternoon, about sun set, seated at an extensive table, in the spacious court yard of a coffee house, amidst a vast number of officers, priests, and citizens, partaking of a cup of their excellent cafe solo, when suddenly was heard, at a distance, the tinkling[123] of a small bell, of a well known and peculiar sound. Every one present, even to the waiters, hastily left their seats, and thronging to the doors and windows, fell upon their knees and awaited the approach of the sacred host. A heavy, old fashioned coach, profusely gilt, drawn by four mules, soon slowly appeared, surrounded with a guard of four soldiers. When abreast of the prostrate devotees, they all fell to crossing themselves and repeating the pater noster. This venerable carriage contains a holy father, who goes to administer the sacrament of extreme unction to some departing catholic. Frequently in passing the street, I have been obliged, at the sound of this reverenced bell, to step over the heads of the kneeling group at the door, and retreat from the indignity of kneeling to an old coach and half starved mules. Obedience to this rite, even from strangers, is rigidly enforced; and an English naval captain, in full dress for a ball, was once compelled to get upon his knees, and arose vowing vengeance and leaving his scented cambric handkerchief in the mud.

Another superstitious and widespread custom deserves a quick mention. One fine afternoon, around sunset, I was sitting at a large table in the spacious courtyard of a coffee house, surrounded by many officers, priests, and citizens, sipping a cup of their excellent cafe solo, when suddenly I heard the familiar sound of a small bell ringing in the distance. Everyone present, including the waiters, quickly left their seats and rushed to the doors and windows, falling to their knees to wait for the approach of the sacred host. A large, ornate coach, lavishly gilded and drawn by four mules, soon appeared, accompanied by a guard of four soldiers. As it passed by the kneeling crowd, everyone began crossing themselves and reciting the pater noster. This ancient carriage carries a holy father who goes to administer the sacrament of extreme unction to a dying Catholic. Often while walking down the street, I’ve had to step over the heads of the kneeling group at the door when I heard the ringing of this sacred bell, all while avoiding the humiliation of kneeling to an old coach and underfed mules. Compliance with this ritual is strictly enforced, even for outsiders; once, an English naval captain, dressed up for a ball, was forced to kneel and left vowing revenge, abandoning his scented cambric handkerchief in the mud.

There is a nunnery of a very strict order in the lower part of the city, and I once had lodgings within the sound of its midnight bell, whose solemn toll, at the dead hour of twelve, summoned the inmates to their nightly devotions.

There’s a convent of a very strict order in the lower part of the city, and I once stayed nearby, within earshot of its midnight bell. Its solemn ringing at twelve o’clock called the residents to their nightly prayers.

The ceremony of taking the veil is extremely impressive and affecting. The individual, I believe, has her own unbiassed choice, in thus retreating[124] from the world, and the motives probably are loss of friends, unhappy attachments, or, perhaps, a melancholy disposition. The parent or guardian pays a large sum to the institution, and the applicant is admitted on trial. At the expiration of this term, if she still resolves to embrace this solitary life, she confirms her purpose in the assembled church, by taking the veil.

The ceremony of taking the veil is really impressive and emotional. The person, I think, makes her own unbiased choice to step back from the world, likely due to losing friends, unhappy relationships, or maybe a generally sad mood. The parent or guardian pays a significant amount to the institution, and the applicant is accepted on a trial basis. After this period, if she still decides to commit to this solitary life, she confirms her decision in front of the gathered church by taking the veil.

In one case, a modest young creature, about the age of sixteen, interesting, beautiful, and just blooming into womanhood, was presented to the gaze of the spectators, and appeared to attest to this mournful resolution. As her attendants unbound her hair, and the ample tresses fell upon her shoulders, and the profusion of jetty ringlets were severed from her reclining and finely formed head, there arose in the mind a throb of painful feeling, from the contemplation that this fair being was about taking a last look at the bright scenes around her; and that such youth and beauty should be immured for life within the cold walls of a convent, and the ends of creation be thus perverted by the iron sway of tyrant custom.

In one instance, a humble young woman, about sixteen years old, captivating and beautiful, was shown to the audience, seemingly representing this sad decision. As her caregivers let down her hair, the long strands fell over her shoulders, and the abundance of dark curls was cut away from her graceful head, a wave of painful emotion arose thinking about how this lovely person was about to take a last look at the vibrant world around her; and that such youth and beauty would be trapped for life within the cold walls of a convent, with the natural order of things twisted by the harsh control of oppressive tradition.

These absurd ceremonies are derived from the all pervading influence of the priests, who blind the eyes of the people, and strive to keep them in ignorance and error. Even the blessing and privilege of possessing and reading the bible is denied them; indeed, but few of the lower class can read at all.

These ridiculous ceremonies come from the overwhelming influence of the priests, who blind the people and try to keep them in ignorance and mistakes. They even deny the blessing and privilege of owning and reading the Bible; in fact, very few people in the lower class can read at all.

To keep up their power, the priests use every[125] means to prevent the spread of knowledge; for full well they know, that should the minds of the people be enlightened, common sense would prevail, and they would awake to their impositions, and throw off the debasing yoke of superstition; and priestcraft would expire.

To maintain their power, the priests do everything they can to stop the spread of knowledge; they fully understand that if the people become informed, common sense will win out, and they will realize the unfairness of their situation and break free from the degrading chains of superstition, causing priestly influence to disappear.

The multitude of padres, priests, friars, clericos and church dependents, is incredible, and compose a large portion of the population. They may be seen in all places, with full, contented faces, under their broad brimmed hats, reverenced and bowed to by all; living upon the fat of the land, and one may enter without ceremony all parts of any house at any hour, without fear of interruption, on leaving his hat and cane in the passage—‘he is confessing the females, and must not be disturbed.’

The number of padres, priests, friars, clericos, and church dependents is astonishing, making up a significant part of the population. You can find them everywhere, with happy, content faces under their wide-brimmed hats, respected and bowed to by everyone; enjoying the comforts of life, and you can enter any part of a house at any time without worry about being interrupted, as long as you leave your hat and cane in the hallway—‘he’s busy hearing confessions from the women and shouldn’t be disturbed.’

There is one of the canine species here, as also in Brazil, of a mouse color and without hair! At Ensenada, I saw one of this kind; he was full grown, though not larger than a rat. His body was of a jet black, with a shining, smooth skin, without hair or even down, excepting at the tip of his tail and on the crown of his head. He was of a perfect and handsome form, nimble in his motions, and would bark and play with the manners of a lady’s lap dog. I regretted that I could not obtain him, for I considered him a very curious animal.

There’s a type of dog here, like in Brazil, that has a mouse-like color and no fur! In Ensenada, I saw one of these; it was fully grown but no bigger than a rat. Its body was jet black, with a shiny, smooth skin, completely hairless except for the tip of its tail and the top of its head. It had a perfect, attractive shape, was quick in its movements, and would bark and play like a lap dog. I wished I could have taken it home because I thought it was a really interesting animal.

Fish in great plenty swarm in the river, and are some of them of a beautiful appearance. In the market, some may be seen for sale, four feet long,[126] with gold colored scales, some of a silvery hue, and a great variety of other kinds, of which, a species of fresh water cat fish are the most numerous, and the cheapest.

Fish are abundant in the river, and some are quite beautiful. In the market, you can find some for sale that are four feet long,[126] with gold-colored scales, some with a silvery sheen, and a wide variety of other types, among which freshwater catfish are the most common and the least expensive.

Beef is sold without weighing, often at seventy five cents per quarter; and a whole sheep, ready dressed, for twenty five cents!

Beef is sold without weighing, often at seventy-five cents per quarter; and a whole sheep, ready to cook, for twenty-five cents!

The slaves are always well used and fed, and the majority appear to be as much at leisure, and full as happy as their masters.

The slaves are always well taken care of and fed, and most seem to be just as relaxed and content as their masters.

In the warm months of summer, between the hours of two and four, a person may walk through the city and not meet any moving object, a deathlike stillness pervading the once bustling and crowded streets. From the scorching rays of a verticle sun, they retire to the recesses and shades, to enjoy, in the arms of Morpheus, their favorite siesta, or afternoon nap. At this time, none but dogs and Englishmen, they say, (by which term they mean all foreigners) are to be seen in the streets. The shutters of the shops and houses are closed; the muleteers and peones are snoring under the piazzas, and the dogs are stretched out under cover; while the shopkeeper is sleeping on his counter, and the drayman under the shadow of his cart. I have said they are enjoying their siesta, but there is one drawback upon their comfort—fleas!—which here abound in numbers without number. The habitations having all brick floors, afford ample retreats for these formidable disturbers of dreams.

In the hot summer months, between two and four in the afternoon, a person can walk through the city and not encounter anything moving; a deathlike stillness fills the once busy and crowded streets. To escape the blazing rays of the overhead sun, people retreat to cool, shaded areas to enjoy, in the arms of Morpheus, their favorite siesta, or afternoon nap. It’s said that at this time, only dogs and Englishmen (meaning all foreigners) can be seen in the streets. The shutters of shops and houses are closed; muleteers and peones are snoring under the awnings, and the dogs stretch out in the shade, while the shopkeeper sleeps on his counter and the drayman dozes under his cart. I mentioned they are enjoying their siesta, but there’s one downside to their comfort—fleas!—which are plentiful here. The houses, with their brick floors, provide plenty of hiding spots for these pesky dream disruptors.

[127]

[127]

The paysanos are wonderfully expert on horseback; yet having for a saddle, only a few pieces of square cloth and leather, and triangular wooden stirrups, with green hide straps, into which they hook the great toe. Their method of catching the wild cattle is very dexterous and singular. They are provided with lassos, which is a strip of hide line thirty feet long, with an iron ring and noose at one end, and the other secured to the saddle, at the side of which the coil is suspended. Having selected an animal from the herd, the guacha takes the coil in his hand, and swinging it fairly around his head a few times, still in chase, throws out the noose with surprising good aim, the distance of twenty feet, which falls over the bullock’s head, and turning his horse, draws tight and secures him by his horns; another hunter in the rear then throws a second noose, which entraps his hind legs, and by pulling in opposite directions, the bull is easily overthrown.

The paysanos are incredibly skilled horse riders; however, they use only a few pieces of square cloth and leather for saddles, along with triangular wooden stirrups attached with green leather straps that they hook their big toe into. Their way of catching wild cattle is very clever and unique. They use lassos, which are thirty-foot-long strips of hide with an iron ring and noose on one end, while the other end is secured to the saddle, where the coil hangs. After choosing an animal from the herd, the guacha takes the coil in his hand, swings it around his head a few times while chasing, then throws the noose with impressive accuracy about twenty feet, which lands over the bull's head. Then, turning his horse, he pulls tight to secure it by its horns; another hunter behind throws a second noose that traps the bull's hind legs, and by pulling in opposite directions, they easily bring the bull down.

The estancias, or large farms, in the interior, are very productive and profitable, and the fertility of the soil and the salubrity of the climate, in these provinces, render the profession of the physician little room for active service.

The estancias, or large farms, in the interior are very productive and profitable, and the fertility of the soil along with the healthy climate in these provinces gives physicians little opportunity for active work.

To conclude—the people, by which I mean the middling and higher classes, are of amiable dispositions, strong natural sense, eager for information, and ardent lovers of liberty; highly honoring their military chieftains, and often speaking with enthusiastic pride of the heroic and beloved Bolivar.[128] The march of mind, in these vast territories, must keep pace with the rapid strides of liberty, and truth and knowledge will ultimately prevail over despotism and superstition. Living in this delightful clime, and possessing this fruitful soil, with their devoted love of country, and their ardent thirst for knowledge, the speculative and contemplative mind of the philosopher and philanthropist may look forward—piercing the veil of futurity—and behold the native of Paraguay and the rough Patagonian, enjoying with the Chilian and the Peruvian, the invaluable blessing of an enlightened government; and tribes yet unknown, filling, at the sound of the Sabbath bell, the consecrated temples of the Most High.

To wrap up—when I say “the people,” I’m referring to the middle and upper classes, who are friendly, sensible, eager for knowledge, and passionate about freedom. They hold their military leaders in high regard and often speak with pride about the heroic and beloved Bolivar.[128] The progress of thought in these vast lands must keep up with the rapid advancements in freedom, and in the end, truth and knowledge will triumph over tyranny and ignorance. Living in this beautiful climate and fertile soil, with their deep love for their country and strong desire for knowledge, the thoughtful and reflective minds of philosophers and humanitarians can look ahead—seeing beyond the present—and envision the people of Paraguay and the rugged Patagonians, alongside the Chileans and Peruvians, enjoying the priceless gift of a thoughtful government; and even tribes yet to be discovered, gathering at the sound of the Sunday bell in the sacred temples of the Most High.

Far in the west, beneath auspicious skies,
In fertile vales, see mighty nations rise!
Where the stain’d savage chas’d the bounding deer,
See crowded marts and towering spires appear.
In eastern climes, though freedom’s torch expires,
Here it shall flame, and still increase its fires.
On fam’d Parnassus, tho’ extinct her light,
It proudly burns on Chimborazo’s height.
Sad Greece! with foes in fearful odds at bay,
While christian nations doubt to join the fray,
And friends forsake, nor prayers nor valor heed—
(Shame to their souls!)—in this thy utmost need.
Yet courage, Greece! thy cherish’d name shall live,
And in its ancient glory shall revive;
Yes! freedom’s car o’er every realm shall roll,
And spread her choicest gifts from pole to pole;
Oppression’s chains to endless night be hurl’d,
And Independence crown a smiling world!

FOOTNOTES

[1] A splinter of considerable length was taken from one of them twenty days afterwards, at Monte Video.

[1] A long splinter was removed from one of them twenty days later, in Montevideo.

[2] This trunk and most of its contents, I brought home with me to Boston; and on emptying it some time since, a quantity of the sand from the eventful beach was found in its crevices.

[2] I brought this trunk and most of its contents home to Boston, and when I emptied it a while ago, I found a bunch of sand from that memorable beach stuck in the cracks.

[3] Winds from the pampas or plains.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Winds from the prairies.


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