USA > Maine > Lincoln County > Boothbay > The shipping days of old Boothbay from the revolution to the world war : with mention of adjacent towns > Part 9
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40
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almost a tornado. I do not know but you will think I say too much about gales of wind, but we never see such gales in the state of Maine or anything like them. When the tide fell we had only two fathoms of water under us and breakers all about us. The current runs about twelve miles an hour and we expected to part our chains or drag, but we found that one of our anchors had caught in a rock and kept us from dragging to sea as the wind blew off shore. We lay in this situation two days with the sea breaking over us a good part of the time. Had we gone ashore here not one person could have been saved as the wind blew off shore and on the breakers to leeward, and had she struck would have gone to pieces. Fortunately we rode out the storm. It happened we had anchored in a little kind of a basin so that within ten rods of us the sea broke sixty or seventy feet high. I think we were in about as much danger as we were in the gulf at the first gale we had after leaving home, for if we had parted our chains at low water we could not have cleared the breakers as they nearly surrounded us.
On the third day the gale began to abate about twelve o'clock; we hove short and were fortunate enough to get our anchor, much bent where it had caught the ledge. About nine o'clock that night we got out of that place and stood off without losing either of our anchors. We stood to sea four hours and then stood on four hours until daylight, when we took a fair tide and a free wind and ran into the mouth of the strait and twenty miles inward. Then we came to anchor in thick fog, as it was impossible to see how to run. I don't wonder people mistake Cape Fairweather for Cape Virgin as they look as much alike as can be. We have seen since two vessels that were de- ceived as we were. . . . I thought it might be interesting to you and the chil- dren to learn something of the particulars of the voyage. It has been a tedious passage and one of a great deal of suffering.
After we came to anchor the captain, the two Mallices, Joseph Hiscock, Ephraim Hart and myself went on shore to see if we could get some fresh game. There is not a tree to be seen, nothing but a few little bunches of shrubs four or six feet high where wild beasts lay and watch for their prey. We had not been ashore long before we discovered near a watering place two wild horses which had been killed and torn to pieces by wild animals. We could see their large tracks in the sand. The sand hills were blown up ten or fifteen feet high in many places. We thought best to go to the boat and return on board. When near the boat Daniel Mallice discovered a large beast within about twenty rods of us. Joseph Hiscock had fired his rifle at a wolf, but did not kill him and we thought it best not to fire at the tiger, for, if we did not kill him, it would only enrage him and he might kill some of
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our men. We did not know how many more there might be with him, so we went aboard and left them. A vessel belonging to Bangor had been cast · away there a short time before. Her cargo of lumber was lying along the shore and we picked up considerable of it and should have taken more, if we could have carried it.
The next day we got under way and ran up about twenty miles farther, when it came on very foggy and we had to anchor in what is called Posses- sion Bay. Here we had to take another browsing and lay two days with water breaking over our decks a good part of the time. The tide runs so strong it makes a heavy sea and a vessel at anchor has no chance to clear herself. We dragged about half a mile with both chains out and anchors ahead and she would put her jibboom under often. A large brig from New York anchored near us which parted her chain and lost her anchor, but bent another quickly and with two anchors ahead rode out the gale.
When the gale abated we got under way and ran for the first narrows which are seven miles long and two miles wide. We had to run about twenty miles from our anchorage to the mouth of the narrows. When we got there we were boarded by an English man-of-war. They examined our papers and cargo and wanted us to take eight passengers that she had taken off the schooner Northern Light of Boston, ashore in the narrows. She was a fine vessel of about eighty tons. The vessel and cargo were a total loss, but in- sured for about twelve thousand dollars. We were full and could not take them. There were a gentleman, his wife and his wife's sister. We took one, a young man, and told them of the brig lying below that would no doubt take them. She soon came up and took them, so we passed on and got through the narrows and cast anchor in what is called Cape Gregory, about fifty miles from our last anchorage. We saw the schooner on the shore from which the passengers had been taken.
The wind being ahead the next morning we all went ashore except a ship- keeper to see if we could get some game. There are thousands of wild goats and llamas that go in droves, sometimes as many as two thousand may be seen at once; but they are so wild that it is almost impossible to get near enough to shoot one. There are no trees but large plains as far as the eye can see, covered with grass two or three feet high, with high mountains in the distance. ... Joseph Hiscock shot a llama and it was about as large as a heifer two years old; weighed about three hundred pounds and was most beautiful. It happened that he shot him through the heart. We fired into a drove of about two hundred and wounded several but only got one. Unless hit in the head or heart they can hardly ever be killed. They went off like
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horses. This was a great rarity since we had been living on salt provisions a long time.
The next morning we got under way and went through the second nar- rows which is about four miles long and got to Elizabeth Island, which is about twenty miles and came to anchor. On the shore we discovered a large number of Indians on wild horses. They were about fifty in number and made signs for us to come ashore, but we were unwilling to do that as we did not know what they wanted of us. We loaded our gun (a large one) with a blank cartridge and fired it. I know you would have laughed to see them go it, for they were out of sight in a trice. The sea-fowl were so plenty that we could stand on the deck and shoot all we wanted, as they kept flying about us to see what we were. We killed some sea-ducks that would weigh eight or ten pounds each. They were first-rate. There were plenty of wild geese too. . . .
The next morning we got under way and started for Port Famine to get wood and water, about thirty miles distant. There was very little tide and a good moon and we made a safe run to our anchorage, arriving at mid- night. Next morning Capt. William Hatch, of Bristol, and myself went ashore to get a permit for wood and water. The commanding officer was very much of a gentleman and speaks good English. He and the doctor went through the port with us and showed their manner of living. There are about five hundred convicts there from Chile with officers and a guard. We got wood and water and they would not take anything for it. It is a singular thing that before we got here at a distance of twenty miles there is not a tree to be seen, while here is the largest growth of trees I have ever seen. Many are ten feet through and over a hundred feet high. We measured one that had been blown down and it was one hundred and eight feet long. This place is rightly named Port Famine for it is the poorest place I ever saw. It is about half-way through the strait and the place where the two tides of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans meet.
We started for our next harbour at Wood's Bay about forty miles away. After we left Port Famine about fifteen miles we came to a chain of moun- tains from one to three miles high on each side of the strait, the tops of which are always covered with snow. Some of these mountains are perpen- dicular, similar to Hockomock only that would not be considered much here. There is no anchorage from Port Famine to this place. The shores are right up and down and you can get one hundred fathoms of water within ten feet of the shore. The wind being fair we got to our anchorage about sunset. There we found a schooner from New York called the Rochester
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with sixty persons on board, having lost one man since leaving Rio. He left a wife and four children on the vessel. They also had a nineteen-year old sick man aboard who died the next morning. He was the only son of a widow. They stopped to bury him so we left them.
We beat up fifteen miles to our next anchorage against a strong head wind and current just at dark. Here we lay two days in a gale. We went ashore and got plenty of high cranberries. One might pick a bushel in an hour and we got as many as we wanted. The weather was stormy all the time with fog, rain and snow. The strait from here through is from one to two miles wide but very crooked and it is not safe to run after dark. When it is dark here it is very dark, as the mountains are so high at the banks. On the way to this place, Cortez Bay, we discovered a brig ashore and went aboard and got considerable copper and iron from her, about fifty dollars worth. Plenty of Indians here.
We started for our next harbour about twenty-five miles away with the current against us, as the Pacific ocean is six feet higher than the Atlantic. We got there about dark and found the schooner Golden Rule from New York. We got them to take the passenger we took from the wreck. Here were hundreds of Indians living in wigwams on the shore. They put to- gether some sticks like bean poles, tie them together at the top and throw some skins on them thus making a kind of shelter. Though it is very cold they go naked except a skin about the hips to the knees. The Indians came alongside in their canoes but we would not allow them on board. They had no guns but weapons of bows and arrows and also spears. With these they got fish and seals on which they live, including mussels. We gave them some ship-bread but they did not know what to do with it. We gave them some raw beef and pork and they ate like dogs, tearing it to pieces and apparently liking it as though it had been well cooked. They ate some dirty grease (slush) and licked it down as sweet as honey. The captain of the Golden Rule gave them some flour but they threw it at each other and rubbed it on their faces, not knowing it was to make bread. The canoes are about ten feet long and carry eight or ten persons or a family. For all it was so cold they appeared to be comfortable although almost naked, while we needed and wore our pea-jackets. In the bottom of the canoe was a little fire and the papooses were rolled in a skin and lay near it. They are called cannibals and are savage. About a year ago a vessel's crew went ashore and all were murdered with one exception. It is very cold here with ice and snow hang- ing down the mountains and sometimes large bunches of ice and snow break off and fall into the water. There are no inhabitants here except Indians.
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Our next harbour was about thirty miles distant and we started in com- pany with the Golden Rule and made it about dark. At daylight next morn- ing we started with a fair wind for the mouth of the strait against a six mile current. It began to snow and rain and we made slow progress against the current. We could not get back and with a heavy fair wind got within about ten miles of the mouth, where the strait narrows in places to not more than half a mile. The nearer we got through the stronger the current ran; the thunder and lightning were almost constant and it was so dark you could not see your hand before your face except when the lightning flashed. You may well believe we were uneasy. ... We had Daniel and Joe Mallice in charge of the deck as they were first class men and could manage the vessel better than anyone on board. We all did our best and if ever there was a long night that was the one, eighteen hours of darkness and only six hours of daylight at this season of the year. About sunrise we got into a large bay in which are some sixty small islands which make it very dangerous when thick. By good luck it was so clear that we could see a mile at times and again only for a quarter of a mile. The wind favored us and we sailed some thirty miles before we got out from the islands and into the Pacific ocean. It cleared up at noon so we could see the burning mountain within about two miles of us. For all the weather is so cold and ice so plentiful they have no effect on it. The Golden Rule got through with us the same day and with a fair wind we put to sea and ran about two hundred miles west to make sure to get off the land. We were twenty-two days from Cape Virgin getting through the straits.
But we had not yet got through our troubles. We took the wind north- west and that was our course. It became a gale and lasted for twenty-one days and in all that time we did not make more than one hundred and fifty miles on our way. No doubt there have been men who have suffered as much as we did but it is seldom. A good part of the time we had single and double- reefed sails and snow and sleet were falling more than three-quarters of the time. The sea would break over us at times and we shipped one that stove our boat on deck and did considerable other damage. We expected we might be driven back round Cape Horn for some days, as the current sets strongly to the eastward and with the northwest wind right in our faces it gave us a hard one to hold on. But we had one of the very best vessels that ever floated in salt water, so we were able to hold on lying to much of the time with three reefed sails and trying to make the weather when it was possible. We could not keep any fire on board except in the galley on deck, where the cook had to have one with which to cook. We were wet most of
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the time and very cold and had no chance to dry our clothes or in our watches below, and made the best of it.
The wind hauled to the south and we ran about four hundred miles and got into good weather. We now found that we should have to get more wood as we had used so much during the long time we had been delayed by bad weather, so we decided to call at the island of Juan Fernandez about twelve hundred miles away, as it would not be much off our course if we made our calculations in season. It lies more than three hundred miles from the main- land and is a great curiosity. It is about sixteen miles long and four miles wide in some places and in others so narrow that we could stand in the centre and throw a rock into the ocean on either side. It was once a burning mountain and the stones are melted together in solid different kinds, chalk, lime and others joined by the heat. We got some red ochre, red chalk, some beautiful shells and a number of different curious things that can be said to come from this far-away island. There are no inhabitants now. It was formerly a place where Chilean convicts were held now in the strait at Port Famine, as I have before written.
There are hundreds of wild goats but so very wild we could not get one, although we shot four. When pursued they run out on the cliffs over the ocean where it is not possible for a man to go. The cliffs are from four to twelve hundred feet high straight up and down in many places, or hanging over the water. The goats will stand on the brinks of the cliffs often on a little shelf six inches wide, where it is more than a thousand feet straight down to the water. It seems as if nature had given that place for their safety. One would not believe how they can run up the sides of the cliffs and jump from crag to crag, where it seems that only a bird could do it. Often they will leap twenty and even thirty feet. These goats were put here by the Chileans. We found bones of cattle, but no cattle. Grass is plentiful.
We only found two places where we could get up on the island and those were very difficult. The day we got there the two Mallices, Joe Hiscock and myself went ashore thinking to get some goats, as plenty were to be seen from the deck. But on landing we discovered something on the shore that proved to be fur-seal and we shot eight. Daniel Mallice and I each got one worth twenty-five dollars apiece. The others were smaller and worth from eight to ten dollars each. Mary, the two that Daniel and I killed are the handsomest things I ever saw. They are a silver-grey and you and dear little Sis must have a muff and cape from these skins, if I can keep them till I reach home and I shall try to do that. The Mallices are going to save theirs for their wives. Six or eight of our party went ashore next day to get some
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but we only got three small ones. I lent my gun to Lyman Chapman and as he was climbing round a steep bank, he slipped and fell into the water los- ing my gun. He is a fine young man and the gun is a small loss to what it would have been to lose him. We got plenty of fish, wood and water here.
William Kenniston's vivid narration of the voyage was written on shipboard within a few days' sail of port, 'with the vessel pitching badly.' The voyagers passed the bold headlands of the Golden Gate on July 12 1850, and entered the magnificent bay of San Francisco. He continued:
It is with pleasure that I write you these few lines to inform you that we have arrived here after a long and tedious voyage of two hundred-twelve days. We are as well as could be expected considering the extremely rough passage that we have had, having suffered almost everything but death on the passage. Mary, little do people who are at home and in comfortable cir- cumstances think or know anything of the suffering that some have to en- counter to get to California by way of Cape Horn in the season of the year in which we came. It is true we have been spared, but only through the providence of God and not by ourselves, for we have run· a great many chances. We have had a very long passage but we have done everything in our power to make it shorter, but rough weather, head winds and calm weather have been the cause. My health is pretty good although I have been very much exposed during the whole voyage.
The shipmates separated and went their various ways, some to the gold fields and others to engage in business. William Kenniston was one of the latter group, and eventually returned to live at the old home- stead on the slope of Kenniston's Hill, known in early days as Mount North, where, as a boy, he had seen, like William Curtis, the distant sea fight on a Sunday afternoon. Curtis did not return home, and all trace of him was lost by his Maine relatives. Mr. Kenniston engaged in farming and, in 1867, operated the fishing and coasting schooner Con- cern. He was the first to engage in shipping ice from Boothbay. When about eighty-two in 1888, he was murdered by his former farm hand.
The Damariscove lay in San Francisco Bay for some time, clearing in November for San Diego and seemingly continued on to South America, for her arrival at San Francisco, thirty-seven days from Paita, was reported in March 1851, a fast run and also a quick round voyage.
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The Marine History of the Pacific Northwest states the Damariscove was coasting north from San Francisco in 1852. On one passage, while . in Puget Sound, her master, Captain Balch, rescued the five of crew and twenty-two passengers from the wrecked schooner Georgiana bound to the gold fields from Steilacoom, Washington Territory. They had been captured and held as slaves by the Hydah Indians for seven weeks. Continuing this voyage, the schooner also rescued the crew of the Hudson's Bay Company's coasting schooner Una, which stranded near Cape Flattery. From information available the Damariscove seems to have been wrecked in January 1855, near the river Umpqua in Oregon.
The G. W. Kendall, launched at Hodgdon's Mills in 1846, was owned by the builders, A. and W. Adams, also Allen Lewis, Marshall Smith, Robert Sproul, Jonathan Chase, Thomas and Tyler Hodgdon. Nathaniel G. Pinkham jr. was master; his crew, to Havana in 1847, in- cluded James Alley, Benjamin Pinkham, Elbridge and Uriot Huff. During the summer of 1848 a Reed made a round from New York to Tobasco via Turks Islands. After a collision the next year Enoch Chase, whose brig Logan had foundered, took command.
In January 1850 he sailed from Wiscasset for San Francisco with a party of about twenty bound to the gold fields. Among them was a youthful son of one of the owners. Silas Smith, friendly, pleasant and having followed the sea, was well qualified to make the voyage. In his watches below his pen has left an exceedingly interesting account of the voyage.
July grd, 1850. You see by our longitude that we are far to the westward of 'Frisco-after coming out of Callao the Captain intended to run about W. by N. until in about the longitude of Francisco on account of the variable winds which are said at this season to be mostly North West, but the N. E. trades lasting us much longer than we expected have carried us much farther west than we wished to go; we are now within four days' sail of the Sandwich Islands and still making westing-heading N. W .- and Heaven only knows when we shall take the variables.
What is very remarkable, the weather here, although almost directly under the sun, is as cold as it is at home the last of April and we have had it so ever since we got into 6º North or took the N. E. trades. I am obliged to wear a guernsey frock with a jacket over it in the night and then am cold.
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I believe I did not inform you in my letter from Rio that I had turned sailor, that must be my excuse for not writing from Callao, it was impos- sible for me to do so without staying on board Sunday and losing all chance of seeing the place, as we had to work hard all the time.
I suppose you would like a short sketch of our voyage, so here goes: I believe I carried you down to Rio in my letter from there, but we will just run over that ground again, passing over incidents of leaving, such as fair wind, fine breeze, leave taking, long faces, Reed and Mac getting on board, one very sober and the other very dr-, ahem, what did I say, hope nobody heard me, waiting a long time for the mate and all aboard getting under way while the welkin rung with cheers from the shore, which was responded to from the Brig, last look at familiar objects, coming in sight of the har- bour about two P.M., last look, and few natural tears. I would not pretend to insinuate that onions or bell peppers had anything to do with them. Then examining miniatures, looking very sober, as in duty bound, and finally turning in disconsolate.
Had a beautiful run off the coast, all hands seasick, one of the crew, old Davis, a green hand, being very sick, I stood his watch. The third night out the Captain came to me as I was at the wheel and wanted me to ship, as we had a very poor crew. One man, Black, who shipped as an ordinary seaman proving no better than a green hand and the best man being taken for a steward, left us but two good men. I told him I did not wish to ship but would turn to a month or so until Davis got broke in, so the bargain was closed and I became a cabin sailor.
The next morning we found by the warmth of the water that we were in the Gulf stream; the weather looking black enough we soon had to reef, the wind increased so fast that we were scarcely on deck before it was lay up again and close reef the sails, close reefed the topsail and double reefed the mainsail. Then I thought to get some sleep, it being my forenoon watch below, as I had but two hours' sleep the night before, but I had hardly got ready to turn in when it was all hands ahoy, haul up the foresail, we clewed up and furled the foresail and topsail and hove her to under two-reefed mainsail, main and foretopmast-staysails, went below, had been below about half an hour and just got turned in when the mate's voice was heard at the gangway, 'Jump up here, lads, and help us save this sail.' We all jumped on deck and there was a scene. The wind had increased till it now blew a regular snorter and the mainsail, a pretty good one, was flying in ribbands, however, we all hands mittened on and succeeded in saving the whole of it, then we hauled down the staysails, unbent the mainstaysail, set
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it in place of the mainsail. By this time there were some frightened ones. Poor Reed especially, who turned in about this time, lay on his face and was . not seen to move for upwards of sixteen hours. The wind continued to in- crease until about three P.M. when it died away quite suddenly. 'Now,' thinks I, 'look out for squalls' and sure enough squalls it was. We took ad- vantage of the lull to get up, balance reef and bend our new mainsail, but before we got it bent we took it from the N. W. (the wind before had been S. E.). It was a somewhat hazardous undertaking to set the mainsail with such a sea on, as we must be a minute or two without any sail up, but we suc- ceeded in hauling the staysail down and hoisting the mainsail without get- ting a sea on board of us, although the Captain thought he had never seen a worse sea before in his life. He has seen a worse one since, however, but of this hereafter. But I find I must abridge, if I go on at this rate I shall spin out such a yarn about this gale that I shall not have room for anything else, so I will do with it as Jack Downing did with his melon seeds, put the rest in to a hill and let it go. We lay to forty-eight hours and then scud. Reed turned out the second night for the first time and ran round the cabin trying to get someone to go out and pump, having heard the mate say he wanted someone to help pump. The poor fellow was in great fear of sink- ing. (The brig leaks very bad in rough weather, keeping one of the pumps going two-thirds of the time.) He tried hard to get someone to go, saying he was afraid he should get overboard if he went himself.
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