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ROUNDING CAPE HORN
'From now, and every day henceforth, there will be fires lit below and
attended by the people on watch.' I ordered. This was to counter the unhealthy
dampness that was beginning to cover everything. I also made a roster so
every afternoon the men listed will pump fresh water down to the bilges
then pump it up again until it is clear. The officers of the watch will
determine this.'
The 20th. March – we struck
the first southern gales between Cape Virgin Mary at the eastern entrance
to Magellan Striates and the Falkland Islands. It is exactly what I feared!
The violent squalls caught
us entirely by surprise and gave me little time to bring the ship under
the mizzen main sail. I decided to sail nearer the coast, and headed towards
Tierra del Fuego.
The 23rd. March – fortunately
the gale died and at two this morning and a coastline loomed out of the
darkness. We had sighted land – the first since the Canaries! Although
I knew the greatest test was yet to come I immediately ordered a sheep
killed to celebrate the event.
Rounding the horn at the
beginning of winter was ahead of us – and a fearsome prospect. I went below
and began to study my charts. Eventually I decided that the safest course
was to go as far south of Staten Island as I dared in order to avoid the
powerful currents that run near the land. The choice was between the cold
and the ice, or the currents. The Striates of Magellan I determined too
dangerous and totally out of the question in these conditions.
It is the 24th. of March
and I keep a constant vigil. The weather remains clear, but now in the
afternoon, the sky is much streaked with high wind. I fear the worst.....
...It is the next morning
and I have ordered the ship to be cleaned and dried and the top hamper
to be brought down in preparation for bad weather.
Midday and thick cloud
... 8pm. Now comes the fog. I am becoming watchful and time allows me to
write only snatches!
Morning again and a strange
calm with a clinging wet mist surrounds us ...
...Later in the day now
and we experience fresh breezes alternately with banks of freezing fog...
Finally the wind has got
up, the fog cleared and the sea starting to run. I order double reefs then
close reefs.
....Midday and the wind
is tearing through the rigging and whipping the shrouds; we are surrounded
by wind streaked foam.
The night, the 28th. of
March and our ordeal has truly begun. The westerly gale is bringing strong
slanting rain striking our arms and faces as if it were shot from a musket,
with the seas breaking completely over the deck. I have never experienced
worse conditions. It is with great difficulty that I write my log and these
few words!
HMS 'BOUNTY'
ROUNDS CAPE HORN 1788
April the 23rd – three
days later. It is difficult to write my log as I am thrown all about the
cabin ... then possibly the worst moment of all!.... This morning I just
managed to struggle up on deck following a futile attempt to sleep. I could
hardly fail but observe the terrible conditions. A huge sea that was white,
as drunken foam and boiling milk mixed together, and we were caught in
its grip. I cast my gaze up searching for a break in the greyness above.
Nothing! For us in 'Bounty' ... no sun, no sky and little hope, just aa
grey, semi-darkness of angry clouds and an infuriated sea. I felt terrible
but still I was more useful than my officers.
I struggled hand over
hand along the rail and looked up. I could not believe my eyes. Someone
had set an extra sail. Men were balanced on yard arms, reefing wet canvas,
clutching at wet rope. I looked around and spied a huddled figure emerging
from a quarter deck hatch. 'Mr Fryer' I yelled above the wind, 'your report!'
I stared furiously at the man, as a result of his incompetence, eagerness,
or plain desperation to get around the Cape, it was his judgement
to carry the extra sail, and in so doing he showed no patience, and a total
lack of regard for the lives of all ... in particular the men he ordered
aloft. I was even more put out by the fact he waited for me to go below
before making his decision! Any competent officer should have known better,
much better than to risk the ship so!
I glanced up and saw a
sailor miraculously hanging in the rigging ... grimly clutching at swaying
yards. I yelled at Fryer above the roaring sea, 'order the men down instantly.'
Then I observed the sail and gulped. Second yard main mast, close reefed
and stretched to breaking. Clutching a safety rope I leaned out over the
ship's gunwale and peered into Neptune's black depths. Waves were ripping
past. Bows down we were ploughing along before the wind with a reckless
speed certain to destroy us all. Only the merest change in the wind direction,
a sudden shift, a gust to turn us just one or two degrees keither way and
we were done for. I yelled to the nearest seaman, 'Get me an axe – make
haste man!' The tenor of my voice did little to hide my concern and the
man jumped to it. I eased my body towards the stays; now humming like strung
cat-gut under their great load. I looked aloft The sail they retained seemed
like a solid object, not canvas- – such was its tautness I thought ...
if I could only part the stays before...
I sensed it before I felt
it. Too late by God! Too late the wind shifted. An axe materialised in
my hands and I swung wildly at the rope, again, and again ... but alas,
too late! She swung, she turned as a top caught in the fullness of its
spin. We broached.! The rope snapped, it cracked like a released bowstring
and whipped by my face stinging my frozen cheek – but I could not care
less! All I felt was the vertigo as I was pitched against the rail. We
turned side on to the raging inferno, our masts now almost horizontal -
if one were able to rule a line across that raging fury of green, black
and white . Then we turned full circle, anti...clockwise I think, and were
lent over, our starboard keel out of the sea.... like a virgin's thigh
it was never supposed to be bared to the elements Would we go under?
Now I thought for the moment of truth. I clung on as I felt the cold sea
enveloping me. Freezing but not too painful – I felt some relief as I closed
my eyes to make the dying easier.... but in the blackness of that despair,
I realised, it was my imagination – and my mind struggled as I fought a
way back to reality. I opened my eyes. Remarkably we were still afloat.
The bows had swung back away from the wind, clockwise, away from danger.
My arms were still locked square into the rails as she righted herself.
I looked around to where terrified sailors clung to various parts of the
ship as a clutch of frightened monkeys would cling to a fleeing parent.
I raced across the deck and released the remaining stay. The sail was destroyed
but thankfully we were saved.
I praised God – and my
relief was so tangible I almost felt I could hug it.
At last all the men were
down and HMS.'Bounty' brought under the smallest stay and mizzen
sails without loosing way. Yes, today was by far the greatest peril I have
ever experienced.
...I have decided that
it would be improper and too dangerous to continue any longer. The wind
has changed yet again and in just two days we have been forced back to
a position we passed some three weeks ago. Heavy winds and snow falls are
so violent that I have been forced to 'lay to'. The wind is backing to
the west and the sea running high. What choice do I have? I decided we
must turn back.
....William Bligh in a
letter to Duncan Campbell and from the log of HMS.'Bounty'
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