Brazil and La Plata: The personal record of a cruise — Context and Discussion

Departure from Cape Henry—Sacrifices in Naval Life—Evening Prayers—First Casualty—Sabbath at Sea—Scene in the Gulf Stream—My Ship and Shipmates—The Crew, 1

Great Caycos—Case of Punishment—The Cat-o’-nine Tails—Moral Effects of the Lash—Evening on board a Man-of-War—Scenes off Havana—Entrance into Port, 13

The Prisoners of Contoy—Excitement at Havana—The Captain General and Chief of Police—Visits of Ceremony—Drive on Shore—The Volante—Paseo and Champs de Mars—Evening Promenade—Visit to Regla by Night—The Captive Filibusters—Destiny of Cuba, 26

Gulf of Florida—The Wreckers—Incidents in the Sick Bay—Maury’s Wind and Current Charts—The Doldrums—Crossing the Line—Neptune Aboard—Dreams of Home—Impediments to Piety on board a Man-of-War—Giving up Grog, 42

Cape Frio—Coast Scene—Bay of Rio—Reminiscence of the Past—City of Rio—Yellow Fever—Equipages—Drive to Botafogo—A Tropical Home, 58

First Impressions at Rio—Mixture of Races—Senate Chamber—Imperial Legislature—Form of Government—Council of State—Ministry—Nobility—The Court in State—The Emperor and Empress, 70

Cemetery of Gamboa—Governor Kent—Tomb of the Hon. William Tudor—Island and Fortress of Villegagnon—Discovery of Brazil—Huguenot Colonists—Treachery of Villegagnon—Progress in Civilization—State of the Empire—Its Dangers and Safeguards, 80

Praya Grande and Praya San Domingo—Bay of St. Francis Xavier—Passage to the Plata—Montevideo—Sea-Birds—Cape Pigeon—Albatross—Booby—Stormy Petrel—Dolphin—Nautilus—Portuguese Man-of-War, 90

Rio de Janeiro—The City Palace—Scenes at Court—Mode of Presentation—Character of the Emperor and Empress—Their Habits of Life—Suppression of Slave Trade—Illness of a Sailor-boy—First Death on board the Congress, 104

All Souls’ Day—Church and Convent of San Antonio—Commemoration of the Dead—Manner of preserving the Bones of the Dead—Ascent of the Corcovado—Panoramic View—Sources of the Aqueduct—Its Construction and History—Descent of the Hill of Santa Theresa, 117

Prisons and Prison Discipline—Ball on Ship-board—Fête at the American Ambassador’s—Western Suburbs of Rio—Country Seat of Mr. R—— —British Flag-Ship—Admiral and Mr. Reynolds—Garden of Don Juan M—— —Madame M——, 128

Weather at Rio—Meteorological Changes—Mountain Walks—Shops and Shopping—Restrictions upon Females by Custom—Slaves at Auction—Birthday of Don Pedro II.—National Hymn and Air—A Yankee Captain’s Opinion of Court State—The Emperor afloat, 143

Wedding at the American Consulate—Marriage at the Orphan Asylum—Foundling Hospital—Foreign Commerce—Arrivals in Port—U. S. Sloop St. Mary—Captain Magruder—Botanical Garden—Storm from the Corcovado—Fête at the Chapel Santa Lucia—Churches on Christmas Eve—Twelfth Night Party—Youthful Piety in Military Life, 154

Montevideo—Its Political Condition—First Impressions on Shore—Mr. H—— and Family—British Church and Services, 166

Buenos Ayres—Mode of Landing—Reception of Commodore McKeever—Evening Drive—Negro Washerwomen—Carts of the Pampas—Washington’s Birthday—Mr. Harris, American Chargé d’Affaires—Quinta of Palermo—Doña Manuelita de Rosas—Pleasure Grounds—Interview with Rosas—His Appearance and Conversation, 173

The Argentine Confederation—Early Life of Rosas—A Type of the People—Life in the Pampas—Police of Buenos Ayres—Description of the City—Visit to the Conde de Bessi—Nuncio from the Pope, 188

Montevideo—Store-ship Southampton—Dr. C——, Fleet Surgeon—The Poor of Montevideo—French Troops—Dress of the Gaucho—Mr. and Madame L—— —Mrs. Z—— —Pamperos at Montevideo—Diseases of the Climate—Marriage of Dr. K—— of the St. Louis—Funeral of Mrs. S—— —Protestant Burial-Ground, 198

Island of St. Catherine—Scenery at Santa Cruz—Captain Cathcart acting Consul—City of Desterro—Its Public Square—Market Place—Hotel—Civility of the Inhabitants—Manufactures of Flowers in Feathers and Shells—Dinner—Waiter and Waitress—Walks at Santa Cruz—An Unexpected Recognition—Dangerous Walking Ground, 209

Return to Rio de Janeiro—Winter Weather there—The Larangeiras or Orange Valley—Walk along the Aqueduct—Festivals of the Romish Church—Corpus Christi and St. John’s Days—Marriages at the Orphan Asylum—Hospital of the Misericordia—Magnificence of the New Building—Country Seat of Mr. M—— —Scenes at a Wedding—Lieut. R—— —Smuggled Liquor and the Consequence—A Reproof to Despondency, 220

Political State of Montevideo—Defection of Urquiza—Address of Rosas—Retreat of Oribe—Visit to the Mount—Pacification at Montevideo—Termination of the Siege—Scenes in the Streets and Suburbs, 237

Visit to Urquiza—His Encampment at Pantanoso—Marqueé of Commander-in-Chief—Travelling Carriage and Baggage Wagon—Adjutant on Duty—Reception—Personal Appearance of Urquiza—His Pet Mastiff—Professed Purposes of the Liberator—His past History and Domestic Relations—The Cerrito and its Fortress—Town of Restoracion—A Gilpin-like Ride—Gaucho Soldiers in Camp—Their Dress, Pastime and Subsistence—Mode of Slaughtering Cattle—Proclamation by Urquiza, 249

Return to Brazil—Assault of a Runner on board the Congress—Captain McIntosh—His Transfer to the Falmouth—Departure for the United States—Making Daylight—Ship’s Library—Sailors as Readers—Street Calls in Rio—Civility and Patience of the People—Disinclination to Locomotion—Omnibuses—Mules and Omnibus Drivers, 266

San Aliexo—Mr. and Mrs. M—— —Steam Packet—Passengers—Image Venders—San Antonio—Superstition of the People—Experience in Miracles—Admiral T—— —Luncheon—Negro Valet—Piedade—An American Wagon—White Mules—Turnpike—Character of the Scenery—Town of Majé—Private Road of Mr. M—— —Cotton Factory and American House—Sabbath at San Aliexo—Romish Clergy—Peak Valley and River—Rain in the Mountains—Sudden Rise in the Streams—Mandioca Mill—Difficulties encountered by Mr. M——, 275

Christmas—Marriage of Miss K—— —Negroes in the Holidays—Scene of Revelry in the Larangeiras—Amusing Street Scene—Custom-House Regulations—Characteristic want of Confidence—Security of Property and Person—Criminal Prosecutions—Forms in Court—Manner of taking the Oath—Public executions—Return to Montevideo—State of Affairs in the Plata—Invasion of Buenos Ayres by Urquiza—Tragic Fate of Missionaries in Terra del Fuego, 291

Overthrow of Rosas—Doña Manuelita at Palermo—Her Escape at Night in Disguise on board an English Man-of-War—Pillage in Buenos Ayres—First Checked by the Marines of the Congress and Jamestown—Summary Punishment of the Marauders—Urquiza at Palermo—General Terero—Visit to the Wounded in the Hospital—Suburbs of the City—English Burial-Ground—Government House built by Rosas, 307

Battle field of Monte Caseros—Scenes on the Way—Santos Lugares—Anecdotes of the Conflict—Triumphal Entry of the Allied Armies into Buenos Ayres—Te Deum at the Cathedral and Thanksgiving Sermon, 322

Hospitality in Buenos Ayres—Return to Montevideo—Public Rejoicings—Admirals Lepredour and Grenfell—Deep-Sea Soundings—Sea Scene—Walks at Desterro—Praya Compreda—A Yankee Cobbler—Ride to San Pedro d’Alcantara—Indoor Scenes—Our Host and his Housemaid—Preparations for the Night—Chapel and Cemetery—Mountain Scenery—Morning Visit to a German Family—A Feat of Agility—Luncheon—Milk and Mandioca—Departure from San Pedro—Ride by Night, 334

Desterro—Mr. Wells—Funeral of a Child—Evening Walk—A Novena—Singular Usage—Auction at the Church—Mock Emperor—Evening Ride—Mountain View—Habits in Rural Life—Indians—Venomous Snakes—Antidote for the Poison of Snakes—Whit-Sunday—Coronation of the Mock Emperor—President of St. Catherine—Preaching by the Vicar—Appointment and Support of the Clergy—Pastime at Santa Cruz—Impoverished Germans—Estate of Las Palmas—Señor de L—— —Antonio de L—— —Coup d’Etat by Urquiza—Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Lore—Protestant Churches—Rural Scenes—Native Cows—Hon. Mr. Schenck—Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher, 359

Ascent of the Sierra of the Organ Mountains—Frieschal—La Barriera—Mules and Muleteers—Mountain Wood in Flower—Boa Vista—H—— Hall—Arrival at Constantia—Mr. Heath—His Estate—Slaves and their Treatment—Morning and Evening Benedictions—Mountain Route to Petropolis—Woodland Scenery—Monkeys—Isolated Peaks—Valley of Piabanha—Mule Riding—Petropolis—German Protestant Church, 401

Buenos Ayres in 1853—Revolution and Civil War—Mode of Conducting it—Savage Atrocities of the Outside Party—Failure of all Mediations in effecting a Pacification—Final Departure of Commodore McKeever and Suite—Homeward Bound, 418

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U. S. SHIP CONGRESS, CAPES OF VIRGINIA.

_June 8th, 1850._—The time for my promised record has arrived: the Congress is at sea. This afternoon, with light and baffling winds, in a most lazy and listless manner she gained a distance of ten miles outside of Cape Henry, where, a breeze springing up sufficiently fresh to insure an offing before nightfall, the pilot took his leave for the land and we filled away upon the sea.

The 8th of June thus becomes for a second time an anniversary with me. Twenty years ago to-day, amid the bright beauty of a summer’s afternoon, I entered the bay of New York from a voyage of the world. But, in what wide contrast were the feelings of that hour with those of this in which I now write! Then, the sunshine of the soul, beaming from face to face and reflected from eye to eye, outrivalled the brightness of the joyous scene around. We were safely at home, after a long and adventurous absence, and within reach of the salutations and embraces of those we most loved. Now, there is sunshine neither without nor within: without, a thick and gloomy haze obscures its smiles, and within, the sadness of separation for years from home and country, with all the uncertainty of its issues, entirely beclouds them. There is nothing joyous to us in the “glad sea:” it does not dance in our eyes as it was wont, or as we have, at times at least, imagined it to do.

Little do they who may envy the lot of an officer in the navy—in its opportunities of varied travel, the knowledge it affords of men and things, and observation of nature in her most impressive forms—know at what a sacrifice of the affections, in their choicest exercise, and by what a penalty of wearisome duty, in irksome routine, the privileges of the position are bought. A sacrifice and a penalty which, when the novelty of travel and

“The magic charm of foreign land”

are passed, and the enthusiasm of youth is chastened by the experiences of maturer years, are felt with a keenness which, to be justly appreciated, must be personally known. The long conviction of this has been impressed afresh upon my mind by an incident of the passing hour. Mr. B——, a gentleman of wealth and distinguished social position in one of our principal cities, has for some days past been a guest of the ward-room mess, as the close friend of a fellow officer. He chose to accompany us to the open sea, and risk the discomfort of a night on board the pilot boat in a return to the shore, rather than take leave at an earlier moment. While the little craft was still hovering around us, waiting the signal to approach and take off its master and his passenger, the officer referred to, in momentary expectation of this second leavetaking of home, as it were, in parting from one who was going directly to his family, approaching me, exclaimed, in a spirit of half desperation—“Oh! Mr. S——, if I were in circumstances to live on shore with my family independently of my profession, I would go straight over the sides of the ship into that boat, and throw my commission to the winds. When I think of my wife and children, I feel as if I would dig and grub—do any thing for an honest living—rather than thus for three years leave them for a drudgery so distasteful to me as life on board a man-of-war in time of peace, with scarce an object but to get through an irksome duty.” Such must be the feelings, in a greater or less degree, of every sea-officer who has reached the meridian of life; and such would be my own, were there not connected with my office and its duties, issues, in hope at least, sufficient to outbalance all earthly considerations.

_June 10th._—Little worthy of record, even in a journal for home, can be anticipated in a passage to Cuba; yet an incident has already occurred, which I would not pass over without notice. When Mr. B—— and the pilot left us on Saturday, the shades of a sombre evening were settling around us, and, as is customary on board a man-of-war in ordinary cruising, we reefed topsails for the night. This done, as the lighthouse fires began to gleam over the dark waters, from Cape Henry at one point and from Cape Charles at another, all hands were called to our first evening prayer on the quarter-deck. The deep twilight and the gloomy sky made the service the more impressive. Few on board, even among the officers, knew of the intention of Captain McIntosh with the sanction of Commodore McKeever, to have daily evening worship. One or two of those who did, had never witnessed such an observance on board ship, and doubted its expediency. But the impression made by it was at once effective and conclusive on the minds of those even who had most doubted. This they readily admitted to others as well as to myself: and while saying that it was the first time they had ever been present at such a service in the navy, added a hope that it would never be discontinued on board the Congress.

I was cheered by this frank avowal from those whose judgment I prized, and whose high-toned character carries with it predominating influence among their associates. Long experience warrants me in regarding this appointment as a most important auxiliary in the work of a chaplaincy, and an efficient promoter of discipline and good order on board a man-of-war. It is honorable to the principles and moral perceptions of those who framed the existing laws of the navy, that the second article in the code enjoins a daily service of worship on board every ship having a chaplain; and it is to be regretted that an injunction so salutary, in the moral economy of a crew, and in its general tendency, should in so few instances have been carried into effect.

The evening worship of the Cotter’s fireside—where,

“Kneeling down to Heaven’s Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays,”

presents a picture which might well call forth the inspiration of the poet. In every grade of life, the social altar, encircled in the sincerity and simplicity of the Gospel, is in like manner an elevating and a touching sight. But if impressive in the comparative security of the shore, far from the fitful changes and dangers of the sea, how much more so when exhibited in the floating dwellings of those whose “home is on the deep.” If He, who alone “commands the winds and the waves, and they obey”—He, who “rides upon the whirlwind and directs the storm,” is the receiver of our thanksgiving and the only hearer of prayer, who sooner than the sailor should be found in supplication, or who be more frequent, or more fervent than he in praise?

Whatever may be the ultimate results in individual cases of such a service, few persons have for a first time witnessed it, without bearing testimony to its impressiveness on the eye, whatever may have been the influence felt upon the heart. But, it is not without cause, that I ever look for something more from it. The man-of-wars-man with all his recklessness, and, too often, degrading vices, has, in many cases, moral sensibilities and affections which bring him, where the means of grace are enjoyed, within the pale of hope; and I have never yet been long on board a ship where, to the preaching of the Gospel on the Sabbath, there has been added this daily evening prayer, without hearing from some troubled spirit the inquiry, “What shall I do to be saved?” followed, not unfrequently, by the resolution of the repenting prodigal, “I will arise and go to my Father, and will say to him, Father, I have sinned against Heaven and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.”

The excitement incident to our departure and the tedium of a listless day, with little progress till we were at sea, disposed all on board not on watch, to retire early; and for the most part such were soundly asleep, myself among the number, when suddenly aroused at midnight by the cry, “A man overboard!” There was little wind and not much sea; but the darkness was Egyptian; the rain poured in torrents; and while the booming thunder of an approaching gust rolled heavily over the deep, occasional flashes of vivid lightning added double intensity, in the intervals, to the blackness around. The rescue of the perishing man seemed hopeless. Supposing him of course to be one of the crew—perhaps the most active and gallant of their number, who had lost his foothold in some effort of duty in preparation for the coming squall—I felt disheartened by so sad a casualty at the very outset of our cruise. I thought of our evening prayer, and of the deep feeling with which, in its brief worship, we had supplicated the defences of the Almighty, and in confiding trust committed ourselves to his protecting care. Had the Lord not had respect to our offering—had the Almighty not regarded our prayer?

In the midst of thoughts such as these, it was a relief, though a melancholy one indeed, to learn that the wretch overboard was not any of the fine fellows whose physical aspect and general bearing had already won from me, in my position, a deep interest, but a poor drunkard, who had been brought on board in a state of delirium tremens, from the receiving ship, the day we left Norfolk; and who had at once been consigned, in care of the surgeons, to the sick-bay. In a paroxysm of madness, he had now rushed from his keepers below to the gun-deck; and, knocking down with a billet of wood caught up at the galley, one in pursuit, had plunged headforemost through an open bridle-port, to be seen and heard of no more.

The life-buoys were cut away, the ship put about, boats lowered and sent off, at the risk of life both to officers and men, in the pitchy darkness and rapidly approaching squall: blue lights were burned, and repeated shouts through a trumpet made, in hope of some response, but all in vain, in rescuing him from his doom. After the first plunge, nothing was seen or heard from him. A miserable madman from strong drink, the accompaniments of his end on earth—the midnight gloom, the angry lightning, the muttering thunder, and the moaning wind, were befitting the fate of an immortal spirit “unanointed—unannealed,” thus passing into the eternal world. He was an old man-of-wars-man, and, three years ago, in a similar condition and near the same place, jumped overboard from a frigate the first night from port, and was with great difficulty saved. How faithful the admonition, “He that being often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy.”

Yesterday, the Sabbath, was a bright and beautiful day, with favoring winds and a smooth sea. The quarter-deck, screened from the sun by awnings, was our chapel; the capstan, spread with the stripes and stars of an ensign, our reading desk and pulpit; and the band, with sacred music, both our organ and choir. My sermon, suggested by the incident of the preceding night, was an exposition of the evils, physical, moral and spiritual, of intemperance, and the frightful condition of such as become its hopeless victims. The fatal proofs of the truths advanced, in the bodily and mental state of him who had just perished before our eyes as it were, caused the most fixed attention to be given to what was said, both by the officers and men.