Voyage of the Destroyer from New York to Brazil | Page 8

day, taking in coals and water again from the
Santuit. A very heavy surf on prevented all communication with the
shore except by signals and afterwards by dispatches that were brought
to us out through the breakers by convicts of the place, in one-man
canoes which they skillfully managed. The occupants having no wish,
apparently, to end the term of their conviction, which they told us
ranged yet ten years ahead of them. Ten years of their lives had already
been put in on the windward side of the island. They rejoiced now on
the lee side where for the first half of their penal term they might not
come, so I was told.
I observed a multitude of people, convicts and guards, on the shore,
making efforts to launch a great raft (the governor's "barge" I suppose)
which they did not entirely succeed in floating. The heavy breakers on
the shore defied all their strength and skill, tossing the cumbersome raft
back to land as often as it dipped in the sea. But the nimble
canoes--mere cockle shells--came out and went in all right.
Fifty convicts had landed on the island the day before our arrival
(President Peixoto's political prisoners) . There were, I dare say,
senators and congressmen in the busy crowd of workers to-day trying
to launch the raft which, like their own thwarted schemes, poor fellows,
they could not float. For sinning politicians, even, life on the island met
the ends of justice, considering ten years of it on the rugged side, under
the constant roar of breakers.
It was about 8 A.M., when the Destroyer arrived at Fernando de
Noronha. At 7 P.M. of the same day, she sailed with orders for
Pernambuco, where she arrived without further incident of note, Jan.
20th 9 A.M. Later in the morning, a pilot with harbor tug brought her
into the inner harbor, where she was moored to the Receife, which
finishes the worst part of the hardest voyage that I ever made, without
any exception at all.
My voyage home from Brazil in the canoe Liberdade, with my family
for crew and companions, some years ago, although a much longer
voyage was not of the same irksome nature.

Let no one run down the Liberdade of sailing fame. Her voyage, to me,
was poetry, herself a poem. Such however was not expected of the
terrifying Destroyer even from the beginning, and no one was
disappointed but all were delighted to find her at last in port.
At Pernambuco, we fell in with the loyal fleet of the Brazilian Navy.
Passing under the lee of the Nictheroy, the crew of that noble ship gave
the Destroyer three rousing cheers. My old friend, Captain Baker, was
on deck, as usual. The America and several other small ships were in
the inner harbor. And what? my old friend, the Falcon, one of New
Bedford's most worthy whaleships, which I last saw dismantled and
aground at Fairhaven, and out of service: As like as two serving mallets,
it is the old Falcon or Noah's Ark. Again, how mistaken: It is Admiral
Goncalves' flagship, the Paranahyba, sure! I see cannon bristling from
her sides, and gold-braided officers all about. Yes, it is the Admiral's
ship.
My nautical skill is again brought into service at Pernambuco. What a
thing it is to be "Navigating Officer in command." Together with the
engineers, I am again mending and repairing, for which purpose the
ship is grounded on the bank near the Arsenal. A few rivets about the
bows having been sheared, consequent upon towing in the heavy
seaway, was this time the cause of the leak. One tide sufficed for all the
time necessary to repair below the waterline. When about to haul her
off the following tide, a boat came from the Arsenal with orders to
remain a day longer on the bank, that the work might be regularly
inspected. It being a day of festa, the ship, even in war time, had to wait
over.
On the following day duly appointed officers came, and the work that
the engineers and I did in about an hour's time, was in the course of two
days "regularly inspected," then, of course, it kept the water out.
I should explain that Sunday is not so much thought of by our Brazilian
friends, but all of the fast days are religiously kept, and every thing
they can lay their hands upon as well, over there.
The next thing in order was to fire the submarine gun.

A thousand pities it was that the gun itself was not in order. The Count
and "specialist" wrote, from his hotel, a polite note to Admiral Duarte,
begging the Admiral to witness the coming exploit with the cannon.
There were several other Admirals