Log of the "Nautilus" part 2

Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.

Part One

“Log of the ‘Nautilus.’" from A Daring Voyage Across the Atlantic Ocean, by William Andrews and James Maculay, 1880

Sunday, June 30th.—Wind W., course E.S.E. Foggy. In the gulf stream to the southward of the Grand Banks, making our little five miles an hour now. Made a good 100 miles these last twenty-four hours. Made for two different ships to-day, but could not catch them. Baked beans for breakfast. Cleared up. Will write a letter and send it home by first vessel we can put it on board of.

This boat, I find, is awfully hard to steer in strong winds. She draws so little water, and is so round on the bottom. Only for our Bakers compass we would not be anywhere.

Wind increases. No observation to-day. Rain at intervals. Saw a fine ship behind us just after a shower; as she bore down we laid alongside and spoke her; proved to be the American ship "James H. Fish," of Thomaston, Maine, Captain Brown, bound to England. They got ready to pick us up, and were surprised when they found out that we were going farther than they were.

Saw three women on board. Gave us his reckoning, and said he would report us. Latitude 43b N., longitude 47.16 W. Wind increased to a gale; had to reef.

Two hours after tried to put square sail on, but came near being swamped. Concluded to heave to at the drogue. Wind N.W.

We are drifting on our course. These are what Ralph Tomlinson calls "Cap Seas." Ralph Tomlinson is my brother-in-law. He told me that if we got by these seas, we should go over all right; but I took no notice of what he said till we got here. He is an Englishman, and has made many trips in a large steamer as engineer.

Monday, July 1st. — Got under way at 9 a.m. Saw five flying-fish. Walter caught a nautilus in our bucket, examined it, was disgusted, threw it away. Saw some rudder-fish. Lost my hat overboard, and got it again. Just as I was turning in this morning a sea boarded us, and about a barrel of water came into the bunk, completely saturating me and the bed. One sea swept our lantern overboard from its lashing behind the mast. We had to put it behind the mast to keep the wind and waves from putting it out. We are 100 miles east of southern edge of Grand Bank of Newfoundland. While heaving to last night, saw green light bearing down on to us. Hauled out our lantern to show a light, but it went out. Got the binnacle light, which is called a hurricane, and that went out too. Kept lighting them and passing them out one after the other several times. Finally the vessel passed a short distance from us at the rate of twelve knots an hour. Felt relieved somewhat. This is another of the luxuries of this kind of navigation.

Wind N.W. Got no observation, but more rain; just as well, perhaps. Wet, wet, everything wet. Drifted twenty miles up to 42 N.

Can it be possible? "Hand me the quadrant, quick, Walter, the sun is gleaming! Ah, I have him. Yes, I have. Latitude 43.10 N., longitude 46.30 W. How fortunate! Went sixty-six miles more. By this time the seas were running mountains high.

Tuesday, July 2nd. — Hove to at 6 a.m. Remained at drogue all day. Wind N.W., a gale, terrible tide, rips. More rain; fearful waves. During the day saw many Mother Carey's chickens dashed down on to the waves in a helpless condition. What a scene for a painter; but who could paint it?

A Swedish barkentine, named "Rudolph Gren," or something similar, passed near enough to speak to us. But we could not understand. They were going to heave to, but we beckoned to them to go along, which they did. Saw several vessels bound east and west. Rain and fog; cap seas. On edge of the stream. We allow one and a half miles an hour drift while at the drogue.

I have given up trying to keep a real log, and make a mixture of log and memoranda.

As we are situated now we don't know "what moment will be our next” as Mrs. Parting says.

Wednesday, July 3rd. — Wind N.N.W. Remained at drogue all day. Blowing a gale.

Saw several vessels bound E. and W. Rain and cold. No hot drinks to-day. Drifted about thirty miles up to 12 noon; am about used up. Lat. 43.10 N., long, 44.56 W., a fearful sea running.

"A life on the ocean wave,"
The man who wrote it was green;
He never had been to sea,
And a storm he never had seen.

Thursday, July 4th.—Drank the bottle of lager that we had been saving for this occasion. Wind N.W. Lay at drogue all day. The most dangerous waves we have had to contend with yet. Towel washed overboard. Saw several sails going east.

Good day for them, poor day for us. No celebration for us but Nature's display of phosphorescent lights at night, much to our annoyance, often mistaking some of them for real lights for a few seconds. My mind was often on Boston Common. How strange the contrast! We place our lantern behind the mast, so that vessels going east and west can see it. Vessels from north cannot see it.

Friday, July 5th. — Hauled in the drogue at half-past 3 a.m. Wind W. Got under way. Wind shifted to S.W., then S., then S.E. Terrible chop sea. Came to drogue again at 12 noon. After two hours we hauled in the drogue again, wind N., and we drove her for twenty-five miles. When we lay down inside of this cockle-shell, and she is making time, which she does sometimes, you would think forty men were at work on the outside of her, and launching her at the same time. At night the wind was light to westward. More rain. The sun shines in Paris, I thought, and we shall see it there by-and-by.

Saturday, July 6th.—Wind nowhere. Up and down like Paddy's hurricane. After our toilet we saw barque ahead. Got out our oars, and soon had a fine ash breeze, and spoke Norwegian barque "M. Jollner," Captain Corneilinsen, from Gloucester to Baltimore, twenty-four days out, lat. 44 N., long. 42 W.; gave us three bottles of Allsopp's pale Indian ale, for use in sickness only. While eating dinner we were both taken awfully sick, and two bottles disappeared. More rain off and on. No observation. Wind S.W.; run under square sail all night. Storm brewing. During the day we made good time, almost burying the poor little "Nautilus" in the waves,

Sunday, July 7th. — Wind S.W. Blowing a gale. Hove to at the drogue at daylight. The worst storm for us yet. One sea went three feet over my head while fixing the chaffing gear on the drogue line. More rain. Wind moderate in the evening, and we put the square sail on. Run all night. At daylight put lateen sail on. When it is moderating after a storm, the waves slop over us worse than when it is blowing hard. Porpoises, skipjacks, Mother Carey's, &c. Saw several sun-fish; never could make out what they were ever made for. I have been told their oil from the liver is highly beneficial for rheumatism.

Monday, July 8th. — Winds S. Spoke British ship "Republic," of Yarmouth, N.S., Captain Gold, bound to Antwerp, Belgium. Gave us half loaf of bread, half loaf of cake, and two dough-nuts; long. 36.30 W. Wind E. and S.E. Foggy; more rain. Shortly after spoke British ship "Khedive," of Hartlepool, bound to Boston. Gave lat. 45.05 N., long 37.50 W., a difference of only eighty miles in two hours. Remarks are unnecessary. Forgot to send my letter. It is a difficult thing to get near these ships without getting smashed when a heavy sea is running. Foggy, and more rain. Wind N.E. Saw steamship bound west. Eat cake and dough-nuts for breakfast, and soft bread for dinner. Puts me in mind of the Parker House in war times. We are about half way across the ocean now, twenty-five days out. Everything has been against us, it seems. Oh! that we could have a pleasant day to dry some of this trash — for it is trash now.

Tuesday, July 9th.—Wind variable ahead. Foggy, and more rain. We hardly ever show a light in the night now unless we see one, and that is not very often. Run ninety miles. Course as close as we can lay it. No sails to-day.

Wednesday, July 10th.—Wind S.W.; foggy. More rain. No observation. Run 190 miles. That's getting up and getting on, for a small boat. Course E. by S. half S. Saw steamer and topsail schooner half-mile to leeward; run for them; could not head them off; blew horn to attract attention and show them some tall sailing, then bore away on our course.

Thursday, July 11th. — Wind W.; foggy. More rain for a change. For two hours Niagara Falls were discounted, a regular cataract of rain. Sun showed himself for a few minutes. Weather too ugly to try for an observation. Run 150 miles more. Making up now for lost time. Course E. by S. half S. No sails.

Friday, July 12th,—Wind S.; stormy; foggy. More rain, just to keep us cool and save washing ourselves. No observation. Course S.E. Run 190 miles. We usually heave to in weather like this, but we are anxious to get this job off our hands now. So we put the square sail on, and the wind working to the W., we drove her before it. Some of the waves would come over her stern and go the whole length of her, burying her completely; but she did nobly, and brought us out all right side up, with care. No sails.

Saturday, July 13th.—Foggy and misty; wind W. and N.W. Fog breaks away and sun comes out occasionally. Very cool. Ginger tea for breakfast. Rough water. Course E. by S. Spoke British barque "Martha," of Shoreham, bound to some creek in Nova Scotia. Long. 30 W. Got observation to-day, the first for eighteen days. Lat. 46.43. N. Pleasant in afternoon, which raises our spirits somewhat. Fog again at night, very thick. Run ninety miles. Course E. by S. half S.

Sunday, July 14th. — Foggy. Sun gleams occasionally. Opened one of our tin cans of hard bread. Iy is bully. Saw a fearful string of skipjacks jumping out of the water, and large fish similar to horse-mackerel, dolphins in chase, coming out five feet in the air, after them. They were getting their breakfast. Saw two sails. Wind N. Course E. by S. half S. Boston baked beans hot for dinner. Any quantity of porpoises, the wolves of the ocean. Lat., by observation, 46.51. N.; long. 28.10 W.; N. wind. Water smooth. We have only seen the moon several seconds for the first two quarters.

Monday, July 15th.—Wind E. and variable; smooth water. Spoke British brigantine "Maid of Llangollen," Captain Wellington Ring, of St. John's, N.B., from Port Madoc for St. John's, in ballast. Went on board, took dinner and lunch in afternoon. Lat. 47.10 N. ; long. 28 W.

Exchanged some of our grub for his; stretched our legs, and had a real good time generally. Sent my letter home; feel like a new man. Saw the moon several times in the night. When we had plenty of wind, we wanted it moderate; now we have it moderate, and we want more wind. Such is life. Can make no course. The fog bank in the eastern sky was black as ink, and dismal is no name for it. The "Nautilus" reminded me of the meeting of Philip Vanderdecken and his father, the captain of the phantom ship, for the last time before dissolution.

Part 3

Andrews, William A. and James Macaulay, A Daring Voyage Across the Atlantic Ocean, E. P. Dutton and Co.,1880.

William Andrews and James Maculay

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