Cecil Northrop "Two Months Before the Mast," 1919, pages 19-32 [end]
Thanksgiving Day.
I am feeling kind of homesick and very blue today. I suppose it is the thinking of the Turkey that I could be eating, maybe if I were back home, or the big juicy beefsteak, or the things that I have not got now. I am not working today except for an hour this morning. When we had to give the deck “a drink”, as this hot weather makes it very thirsty. But I go over for that and you know how that cheers me up.I suppose the novelty is wearing off, whereas before I did not have the time to feel homesick, and then going through the canal gives you the feeling as if you were passing the gate where there is no turning back. The sun is shining as usual, and the old tub is going along at a great clip, for there is no want of breeze, for besides what the steamer is making, it is blowing pretty hard anyhow; the spray is going on deck, but I am on the lea side of a hatch, as snug as a bug in a rug. The rest of the crew are asleep aft, that is some of them are. The others are reading or telling fish stories, and every now and then the famous fish story. They not only tell about the things they have heard of, but also the things they have seen, and I must say they sure run a close race. Whistling for sea lions and fights with sea "sar-pents", and sharks, they have caught, and suckers they think they are catching. These tales are very interesting even as a work of the imagination, and I really believe that when they are telling them, they get to thinking they are true, and perhaps about fifty per cent of them are. Up around Norway there are a great number of sea lions and they sometimes hang around the fishing boats. When they see the men throw a fish to them they catch it in their mouth, so every day around dinner time, the men whistle for a little while and this same lion will appear for his dinner. I am not saying this is true, but sea lions are very smart, for I have seen them trained to balance balls and to do all sorts of stunts. So this one tale might be true. They do not tell these tales especially for my benefit, but rather to match the other men.
There are a great many sea lions down here, most of the harbors are just full of them. One was killed by our propeller the other day. When coming from shore last night about twelve o'clock, the small boat that we were in hit something which we took to be a rock, but in looking over the side to see what it was discovered that it was a seal lion that must have been sleeping on the surface. It seemed to have scared us more than the lion.
I saw the Southern Cross (a southern constellation) for the first time in my life about two nights ago. It is very easy to find, and can be seen about ten degrees below the "line". It is formed of four stars in an almost perfect cross. I also saw the Magellan Clouds. They consist of three small nebulae, one dark and two bright.
The nights are very beautiful, and I love to stay up on deck and watch the wake, the phosphorescence makes apparently a path of living fire which can be seen for about a mile. Along the ship’s side and where over there is the slightest disturbance, it will show itself.
I have seen a great many "blows,” that is whales. Once or twice we have come within a mile of them. In looking over the water I would see a stream of spray, or steam, shoot into the air and knew right way they were whales. I have watched them through the glasses a few times. I saw one jump clean out of the water and land again with a thud which could be heard for miles. I could not realize their size until I saw this one out of the water.
As we are to call in at about fifteen places, it will of course be much more interesting than it has been for the last week or so. Being out of sight of land, doing nothing but manual labor and very menial work makes me sometimes wonder why I went to sea. But when we are calling in every day or so and seeing new towns it will be very pleasant. Even the going in and out of the harbors will be a lot of fun now these "niggers" are aboard, for all I will have to do will be to take care of the winch and order the "niggers" around. They do not act like the "niggers" of the south. They are very insolent. The Bos'n has not got the right idea yet, he says "come over and give me a hand with this rope will yer?” and pulls with them. But I stand at the winch and yell at them like a Southerner. "Get a hold of that rope, what do you think you are hired for? to loaf around all day? hustle now!" and I was surprised to see that they sure did step. They also make room for me when I am coming along. There is one standing up in front of me now with his mouth wide open. I am sitting on the deck with the Corona on my lap and I suppose he has never seen one used that way before. I don't mind that so much, as he is a long way off and his stare is from surprise only. They are fearfully lazy, they are supposed to be painting the booms, but they are just sitting up there singing to themselves, not raising their brush until you give them a look and then of course they paint until you are out of sight. You can hardly blame them for taking their time, they are paid very poorly for the work they do. Getting thirty dollars a month with twelve cents an hour overtime. They do as much work as any New York longshoreman and just compare the pay.
There are very few docks on the West Coast, and our whole cargo has to be taken out in barges. That strikes me as very funny there being such a large trade you would think it would pay them to build docks.
I suppose there is some reason why it is not done-- either the depth of the water, or the open harbor where the swells would grind the ship to pieces, or some other reason that I do not know of. But this loading into barges means double loading. First from the dock to the barge, then from the barge to the ship, besides the time it takes to tow them out. In rough weather it is impossible to come out to the ship.
The Bos'n is a mighty nice fellow, and gives me the lighter jobs when he can, which is very nice of him as they usually make the ordinary do the hardest work. I have a few knots on my hands but that will make it easier for me in the handling of ropes, though it does not improve their looks. The Bos'n says that if I wash them in crude oil it will take all the dirt out, so I will try that the next time.
Nov 29 Talara, Peru.
When I started on this trip I had an idea that would be traveling among the palm trees, coconuts, and dates and figs; that everything would be green, with beautiful tropical growth, with houses that had inner courts, and green parrots, and maybe a fountain, that it would be too hot to work, except for a few hours a day, with men wearing tall straw hats, and never walking anywhere, always having horses to go on when at night I would be able to hear them playing on their guitars, under some window. You know the regular "adventure” bunk. So you can imagine the bump I got when I struck this godforsaken "berg.” We arrived early in the morning, and when I came on deck and looked towards the land I could see nothing but miles, and miles, of desert, not flat like a regular desert, but hills about seven hundred feet high with narrow trails crossing and winding about those most desolate piles of sand. It looks exactly like a relief map, as the winds and earthquakes have left their mark upon them, in the way of deep gashes and slices.As soon as it was light enough, the Pilot came out to take us in. While going in, four or five, large rafts with a big square sail "catamarans" crossed our bow although we were going at a good clip. They sail wonderfully fast to be so unshapely. They sail right through the breakers, and when nearly beached they let go their sheet and jump ashore, then pull it well out of reach of the tide. The logs of which these rafts are made are so light that one the size of our largest telegraph pole can easily be lifted by one man, which I suppose accounts for the speed they get out of them. We could not tie up to the small dock as the harbor is so open that it would break up the ship, as the surf is very heavy. So we had to moor to bouys on one side and the dock on the other with about thirty feet between the dock and the side of the ship into which space the barges came alongside.
That day there being nothing doing I swam about a quarter of a mile to shore thinking that I would be able to get some fruit; hang around for a while and then swim back. I had to swim, as it is a closed port and I could not land on the dock. The town is a native fishing village, built right on the beach. When I had rested for a few minutes I started out to find the store and the main street, which when I did finally locate it, consisted of two houses. One was the market, an open work affair about forty by sixty feet, and the other must have been a store but had gone out of business. As I have said I was looking for fruit. I thought the best place would of course be the market, so I started to enter, being careful not to step on the dead dog which was in the path, and I kept out of range of the little burro which was kicking to beat the band, to the great delight of a crowd of "hombres'' sitting on a sort of fence, and some on the ground. When half way in the door I heard the most awful string of language that you can imagine. My Spanish being very disjointed I did not think for a minute that I could be the one for whose benefit the speech was made. It was not until I caught some of the more familiar cuss words that I turned around. I saw a great big fat “squaw” three times broader than she was tall, with a ladle of boiling soup with which she was making very positive motions, in the direction of the door. I was so dazed for a minute that I tried to make up my mind what to do when I was saved that trouble by her making it up for me, in the way of short rush, so that I had no trouble in understanding her. So I made a rather hasty retreat. By this time I had collected a crowd of children of about a hundred, who did not give up the chase until I reached the water edge. One of them off his guard came within the reach of my arm, and I grabbed him hoping that I would be able to find out why I had received such a cold (I might say hot) reception. After about a half hour of painful Spanish, I was able to understand that the lady in the village had objected to my bathing suit which they told me did not cover my lower limbs sufficiently. Of course my suit was just the usual thing in the states. So, I received another shock, as I would not have been surprised to see the people down there wear just a string of beads.
That night I got permission from the Captain of the port to go ashore. I went to the circus that happened to be in town but it was nothing very unusual about it except that of course it was in Spanish, and I felt that the people were foolish when they laughed at the jokes which were Greek to me. There were no animals, and the ring was very small. There was a tight rope walker and a lady that walked around on a ball, and some jugging which was so poor that I believe I could have done better. This ended my stay in Talara, Peru, I was not very sorry.
Lima Peru.
I hope I am here long enough to go to the bull fight. But I suppose I will leave before Sunday. I am very much stuck on this town. It is the first real Spanish city that I have seen. Panama having so many Americana in it has become somehow Americanized, with seventy-five per cent of the people speaking English. So this is quite new, having found no one with the least idea of English. It sure makes you feel miles from home when you have a terrible time trying to get some plain "ham and". Having been on the ship for some time now I was crazy for some real cooking, and as soon as I struck the dock made a beeline for a "hash joint”. I found one that looked as if I could get a real feed under five dollars, so went in. I suppose I was the worst customer that waiter ever had, but finally made him understand that I wanted roasted chicken, and soup. I enjoyed it very much after "chow" which we had been taking to sustain life. The food got very bad on board when about two weeks out, getting bad fish, salt horse, bean soup, which was not up so much and not enough of this. They figured up one bill in cents, which made me nearly faint as they had one dollar sign in front of it. So I gave him a lot of the cigar coupons which they call money down there, and he brought me back a lot of change. I wanted to tip the waiter a quarter and gave him a couple of coins which looked like quarters, and afterwards found out were worth together about five cents. I guess he thought I was some cheapskate.There is great class distinction down here. The people are either very rich or else peons. The rich have large houses in the city here with beautifully designed doors of bronze. All these houses have inside courtyards. Until twelve at night these doors are kept open, and as I walked along the street I could see the inside, which in every case was furnished with the very best money could buy. In one of these places there were a few palm trees in the entrance. In the middle of this courtyard a fountain played, there were benches here and there, the moon was out, and the shadows cast by the high walls of the palms gave the place an air of mystery. Behind all this is what I took to be the living rooms. The place appeared to be decorated in red, but it might have been the reflection of the oil lamp which supplied the light. They had a net up at the door to keep out the night insects, a gentle breeze was blowing and I could catch parts of the conversation of the women. Their voices being very musical lent still more beauty to the place. I do not know how long I stared at all this, but I saw a cop give me a "dirty look", and while I would like to go through the jails down here, I am not so anxious to spend the night in one, when I have a nice hard bed waiting for me back on board.
So I moved on to take in the rest of the town.Strange to say, these streets are very narrow with the exception of a sort of Fifth Avenue, where everybody walks up and down every night. On this street the consuls of the various nations hang out. It seems to be the best part of town, but is not as interesting as the older sections. It is like a painting where the paint has not dried yet it seems so knew.
After "rubbering" everywhere I could around the "swell layouts" I walked to the poor section just to get a line on the town. The working class live in bunches of a few hundred, their hovels being enclosed by four walls of dirty white concrete. Of course, there are openings in these walls, but from the outside it is nearly impossible to see anything or the interior of how they live. It looked very peaceful, and so I thought it would be safe enough to go through which I did without mishap. When inside I stepped into a dusty hallway with little nouses on both sides, they were all connected, with low roofs just high enough to clear your head if you were inside. One little square window for each house, the doors always having a blanket to serve in the place of a wooden door, wood being very expensive down here. At some of the houses the blankets were pulled back and I could see the family as they were sitting at the table talking. The table looked like one of our cheap kitchen tables, and the chairs we would not have had in the kitchen. I was wondering where they slept when I noticed a pile of colored rags on the floor which must have been their beds as there were just as many piles as people. When I say floor, I should say earth as none of the places have wooden floors. I could not see any place to wash and I don't suppose there was any. But that does not worry these people, they look dirty all the time. I bet that many layers of that fine old Spanish tan would come off if anything should happen so they would fall into the bay. But they take good care that no water ever spoils their complexion. This place smelled like a pig pen so I did not need any cop to tell me to move on.
Lima seems to be a much nicer place than those we have just left, there being quite a number of trees and the hills are about twenty miles back, which gives the place a chance to breathe, and does not look as if it were going to slide into the sea. I have seen a lot of Army officers here. They sure wear bright colors and gold braid with a great big sword. If I had the uniform the starter at the Hotel Astor wears, I am sure I could pass as a General, or they might even make me king. The business part of the town is very congested. A few decent looking banks but most of the buildings are very ratty looking. Very much like down around Water Street in New York.
While coming into the harbor at Callao-- that is the seaport for Lima-- we ran into a flock of birds, a kind of duck. There were so many of them, that you could yell to anyone near you, and their wings would make such a noise that he would be unable to hear you. There must have been two or three hundred thousand. There were so many of them that when they rose from the surface of the water it felt as though the whole ocean were coming up. These ducks can fly very fast, but we were so near them that some of them could not get underway fast enough, so they rose a little and then took a deep dive, you could see them go about thirty feet under and swimming like a fish.
Valparaiso, Chile.
Well, at last I am in the place I have often dreamed of. I have not been ashore yet, but will go tonight, I am writing this very early in the morning. I want to see as much of the town as possible, and we are only going to be here for a day or so.I have not been able to write many letters home, as we have only made stops of a day each. We come in early in the morning, and leave at night, so I do not get much chance to go ashore. The Agents will not take letters if they do not have the proper stamps on them. Even then they are not very obliging. You see, we are just a bunch of sailors and why should we bother them?
The country all the way down until now had been very barren, not even a tree to be seen. All copper mines or saltpetre dumps, or oil wells. I am sorry to say that all the Americans I met were drinking themselves to death. I suppose the desolate country gets on their nerves and they don't care any more what happens. But now the country has changed entirely, farms and trees, and all together things are beginning to look human once more. I am delighted, as this continual desert gets on my nerves, and I think I would go crazy if I had to stay in any of these places for a few years. In this southern part of Chile it looks very nice. All the way down we have been within sight of land. Very high mountains, the water is deep right up to the foot of them. If I ever get a chance I sure will take a trip into the interior of South America, I imagine it would be wonderfully interesting.
It is very funny to hear one of the sailors try to talk to these people down here in broken English, while they ought to be trying to talk to them in broken Spanish. He does not seem to realize that they cannot understand a word he says, but seems to think that they just don't want to. I enjoy it very much. I had a very funny time twice. Being out in the sun all day of course I am very tanned and when I don't shave for a day or so I get very dark. While on one of these beaches I was mistaken by an American, for a Spaniard. He could not speak Spanish and so I dragged him along for about fifteen minutes. It sure was fun.
You would be surprised to see the very little time that I get to myself. I “turn to” at six thirty and quit at five, but after I have had supper and washed myself and clothes, it is nine and you can bet that it is very seldom that I am not ready for bed.
We have one more port to call at before we turn our head for the States again. Valparaiso is the largest place we have been to yet. It is also the largest on the West Coast I suppose. Like many other cities it is built on about seven hills, the business district being in the middle and lowest spot, I might say on the ground floor, as the streets are in "tiers", so steep that it is impossible to get a street car to the next terrace. So they have a separate line for the other section, connecting the two, with a sort of cable car, looking very much like the cars used to take people to the top of the "shoot the shoots" at amusement parks. The wind was blowing so hard when I started to go back to the ship that the boatmen charged twenty pesos (four dollars) to take me out. I knew for the same money I could stop at a hotel for the night, and as I wanted to see more of the town; having only been there one night, I decided to do so. I had a small room in the "Ingles" Hotel for a dollar and a half. The bed felt great after the pads I had been sleeping on. It was so soft that I am able to go to sleep for some time. The weather was warm, and I kept my window open. Being on the second floor, I could hear everything very plainly. There was not much traffic, but the police have a system of whistling to the other man on beat to see if he is awake. It is a very shrill whistle with a rolling sound, which they blew every ten minutes or so. I would not have minded so much if I had just heard the men in the neighborhood, but I could hear every whistle in Valparaiso, it seemed to me. I wanted to sleep late, but being accustomed to getting up early, I awoke at the usual time, about five. As the restaurant would not be open, I would have had to sit in the park, or wander about until nine. So I stayed in bed, trying to get as much pleasure as I could out of it. From my window I could see the "mule trains” and hear the tinkle of the bells and the shouts of the drivers. The little "burros" seemed entirely out of proportion to the load. The drivers were riding small horses very much like our western ponies, but did not have a leather saddle. Their stirrups are separate and of leather, with a box tow. Their saddle is made of folded blankets, and secured by a cirsingle. The men ride well but do not see how the horses can stand the heat with so many blankets. By eight o'clock I was dressed, so I left the Hotel to get my first view of Valparaiso by day. The Hotel opened on the square which is flanked by the "Principal Correo" (Post Office) and the City Hall and "Palace de Justice" with the Hotel and the sea on the other. A body of mounted police passed me, they looked like the German guard, with large pointed upturned mustaches, long swords, and sitting like wooden things in the saddle. When a restaurant opened I had breakfast. By that time things were beginning to wake up. The typical business day was begun. Street cars crowded, automobiles filled the streets, and the usual wave of people hurrying to work.
Deciding to walk through the whole town, I started westward. This took me through the poorer section, and the steepest, keeping on one street, so that I would get to the top of the hill where I would get a view of the surrounding country. The road gradually narrowed, from paved street and sidewalk, to nothing but a very narrow walk, paved at one time, but now in a very dilapidated condition; until it was nothing more than
an earth trail winding up the hill. Along this street are many houses, some patched with tin cans, and many colored boards. But no matter how poor the house, there would always be flower boxes filled with beautiful flowers of every description. That whole street was an avenue of song; from every house door or balcony hung birds, some very brilliant and singing wonderfully. The hill was very high, the path led around, and up and down, so by the time I got to the top I was pretty tired. From this point I could get a beautiful panorama of the city, and the harbor. From there I came down, and along the seafront to the other side of the city. The houses at this end were very fined and were owned, of course, by the very rich. The place looked prosperous in every way, the poor were very happy and contented, from what I could see. It had a very wide-awake air, and had departed much from the old Spanish style of easy-going with their siesta.
Germans are favored, everything being made in Berlin, and it is noticeable in the dress of the Policy and the Army. All the steam cars and street cars are German. Many of the Spaniards spoke German, German papers being sold on the street. Many Germans with their arrogant manner, thick necks, and I must not leave out their mustaches.
Valparaiso is a terrible place for sudden winds, which always do some sort of damage when blowing from the north. All along the waterfront there are many wrecks, some long since gone to pieces, other quite recent.
The next morning we left, heading south for Talcahuano, our last point south.
Arrived there the following day, being just three hundred miles. It is the Chilean Naval Base, with a fairly decent harbor. It was much cooler than Valparaiso, and I could easily stand a sweater during the day, although this was their midsummer.
I bought some beautiful fruit, cherries, mangos, pineapples, raisins, and many others-- all of the first class.
It was very refreshing to look everywhere and see nothing but trees, and grass, after the weeks of desolate waste. I went ashore for a few hours, too short a time to see anything. That night we left, I remember so well the order, which sounded more pleasant to me than anything I had heard for two months: "Heave up your anchor! go ahead Mr. Dow". I felt the engines turn over, and watched the lights of the village fade. I was headed once more for the best place on earth---The little old U.SA.---
“AIN'T IT A GRAND AND GLORIOUS FEELING".