On The 1st Of November I Called Up My Men At One In The Morning,
And We Started With The Tide In Our Favour.
Hitherto it had
usually been calm at night, but on this occasion we had a strong
westerly squall with rain, which turned our prau broadside, and
obliged us to anchor.
When it had passed we went on rowing all
night, but the wind ahead counteracted the current in our favour,
and we advanced but little. Soon after sunrise the wind became
stronger and more adverse, and as we had a dangerous lee-shore
which we could not clear, we had to put about and get an offing
to the W.S.W. This series of contrary winds and bad weather ever
since we started, not having had a single day of fair wind, was
very remarkable. My men firmly believed there was something
unlucky in the boat, and told me I ought to have had a certain
ceremony gone through before starting, consisting of boring a
hole in the bottom and pouring some kind of holy oil through it.
It must be remembered that this was the season of the south-east
monsoon, and yet we had not had even half a day's south-east wind
since we left Waigiou. Contrary winds, squalls, and currents
drifted us about the rest of the day at their pleasure. The night
was equally squally and changeable, and kept us hard at work
taking in and making sail, and rowing in the intervals.
Sunrise on the 2d found us in the middle of the ten-mile channel
between Kaiķa and Makian. Squalls and showers succeeded each
other during the morning. At noon there was a dead calm, after
which a light westerly breeze enabled us to reach a village on
Makian in the evening. Here I bought some pumelos (Citrus
decumana), kanary-nuts, and coffee, and let my men have a night's
sleep.
The morning of the 3d was fine, and we rowed slowly along the
coast of Makian. The captain of a small prau at anchor, seeing me
on deck and guessing who I was, made signals for us to stop, and
brought me a letter from Charles Allen, who informed me he had
been at Ternate twenty days, and was anxiously waiting my
arrival. This was good news, as I was equally anxious about him,
and it cheered up my spirits. A light southerly wind now sprung
up, and we thought we were going to have fine weather. It soon
changed, however, to its old quarter, the west; dense clouds
gathered over the sky, and in less than half an hour we had the
severest squall we had experienced during our whole voyage.
Luckily we got our great mainsail down in time, or the
consequences might have been serious. It was a regular little
hurricane, and my old Bugis steersman began shouting out to
"Allah! il Allah!" to preserve us. We could only keep up our jib,
which was almost blown to rags, but by careful handling it kept
us before the wind, and the prau behaved very well. Our small
boat (purchased at Gani) was towing astern, and soon got full of
water, so that it broke away and we saw no more of it. In about
an hour the fury of the wind abated a little, and in two more we
were able to hoist our mainsail, reefed and half-mast high.
Towards evening it cleared up and fell calm, and the sea, which
had been rather high, soon went down. Not being much of a seaman
myself I had been considerably alarmed, and even the old
steersman assured me he had never been in a worse squall all his
life. He was now more than ever confirmed in his opinion of the
unluckiness of the boat, and in the efficiency of the holy oil
which all Bugis praus had poured through their bottoms. As it
was, he imputed our safety and the quick termination of the
squall entirely to his own prayers, saying with a laugh, "Yes,
that's the way we always do on board our praus; when things are
at the worst we stand up and shout out our prayers as loud as we
can, and then Tuwan Allah helps us."
After this it took us two days more to reach Ternate, having our
usual calms, squalls, and head-winds to the very last; and once
having to return back to our anchorage owing to violent gusts of
wind just as we were close to the town. Looking at my whole
voyage in this vessel from the time when I left Goram in May, it
will appear that rely experiences of travel in a native prau have
not been encouraging. My first crew ran away; two men were lost
for a month on a desert island; we were ten times aground on
coral reefs; we lost four anchors; the sails were devoured by
rats; the small boat was lost astern; we were thirty-eight days
on the voyage home, which should not have taken twelve; we were
many times short of food and water; we had no compass-lamp, owing
to there not being a drop of oil in Waigiou when we left; and to
crown all, during the whole of our voyages from Goram by Ceram to
Waigiou, and from Waigiou to Ternate, occupying in all seventy-
eight days, or only twelve days short of three months (all in
what was supposed to be the favourable season), we had not one
single day of fair wind. We were always close braced up, always
struggling against wind, tide, and leeway, and in a vessel that
would scarcely sail nearer than eight points from the wind. Every
seaman will admit that my first voyage in my own boat was a most
unlucky one.
Charles Allen had obtained a tolerable collection of birds and
insects at Mysol, but far less than be would have done if I had
not been so unfortunate as to miss visiting him.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 91 of 109
Words from 92162 to 93173
of 111511
