ROUND THE HORN

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21254, 6 August 1932, Page 1 (Supplement)

ROUND THE HORN

BY W. R. WEBB

AN UNCANNY REGION

We had lain at anchor in Antofagasta roadstead for close on three months, discharging a coal cargo and taking in a freight of nitrates—saltpetre from away back in the interior of Chile. Three long months had they been, relieved only by one week-end on shore. We certainly did our best on that occasion to let the inhabitants of the ramshackle little town know that we were among them; but they were, apparently, accustomed to the antics of seamen on shore leave, and a fair sprinkling of our number sampled the odoriferous accommodation of the public calaboose in consequence. Twenty-four hours of incarceration in that vile Chilano gaol, followed by a day spent in sweeping the streets, a target for the ridicule of urchins and adults alike, gave us a wholesome regard for the judicial institutions of the republic. "However, our last bag of saltpetre was under hatches, and there was no regret in the chantey .that lifted our anchor from its long slumber on the mud of the bay. " We're homeward bound and we're bound to go!" sang our leader. " Good-bye, fare thee well! Good-bye, fare thee well!" we chorused. Our lusty song awakened the crews of the dozen other "windjammers at anchor. They pealed their bells and wished us bon voyage; we cast the imprisoning

gaskets from our impatient sails and beat out to sea. Gone the comparative luxury jof night-long slumber on a " donkey's breakfast"; gone the appetising fresh meat and vegetables that had supplanted our accustomed sea fare; gone tho unspeakable luxury of a wash twice a day. We had left those things behind now and must settle down once more to the rigour of watch and watch with its interrupted slumbers, its salt beef and hard biscuits, its conservation and rationing of water supplies, its pulling and hauling and toiling and suffering, day and night alike. Still, we were homeward bound, each man of us with the prospect of a substantial " pay day " before him, factors that combined in making our lot quite endurable. A Matter of Clothes We had quitted Antofagasta in the month of May, and as we slipped south out of the tropics, and the nights grew longer and colder, so the manifold deficiencies in our apparel became manifest. The patched and repatched clothing which had so far served its purpose began to outlive its period of usefulness. Awhile we shivered and suffered; we darned and patched and mended, and vowed we would make our tattered rags serve us to our destination. Had it but been summer weather we might have accomplished our purpose and defied the elements and the " old man " as well. But a winter passage of the Horn was a thing to shake the courage of the most hardy of Spartans. Needs must we request the " old man " to open his " slop chest," that miniature emporium, an institution in all " limejuicers " and the conduct of which was strictly the master's prerogative. How his heart must have warmed to us as trooping aft in the dog-watches we outfitted ourselves anew at prices that would have brought a blush of shame to the cheek of the most hardened of our What matter that we sliced unholy chunks from our pay-day ? What matter that the " old man's insistence on his. staggering quotations filled us with righteous anger ? Warm clothing we must have, and that at any cost. Away South Away south we staggered, at times hove-to in the face of a shrieking southeaster, at others laying our course to the tune of a full sail breeze that raised our spirits to unwonted heights. How long the nights seemed, how black and bittei

tno seas tnat roarea Deneatn us as we lay out on the yardarms fighting madly with our iron-hard topsails. One slip of hand or foot at thoso times would mean a grave in those same black and bitter seas. Each one of us knew that life hung by but a thread at times, but the subject was strictly banned. " One. hand for yourself, one for the ship," that was the rule—observed more in the breach than in the fact. If a man fell—well, it was bad luck for him; if he had a narrow escape, he passed the matter off with a joke. To allude to it in all seriousness would have brought him into contempt. Down into the latitudes of the hail squall and the blizzard we went, and ever as we crept nearer the Horn a vaguo uneasiness assailed us, the uneasiness that comes with foreknowledge of an ordeal to be endured, a period of suffering to bo passed through and faced with whatever fortitude the nature of each one of us would permit.

Strange Tales Uncanny the tales recounted in the dogwatches, -when muffled figures, wreathed in tobacco smoke, gathered in the fo'c'sle for an hour or so of relaxation. Oilskins glistened, pipes smouldered, the gale roared and the decks heaved and heeled as the seas smashed over our bulwarks and thundered on the steel walls of our deck-house. Soon our turn would come to go out on deck and face the fortunes of the night. Meanwhile we yarned and listened to the stories of old shellbacks umong our number who had made the passage many times. They spoke of ships long gone from mortal ken, lost off the Horn the only fate ascribed them; they spoke of shipmates who had coino to grips with the rocks of that pitiless coast and lived to recount their sufferings to a doubting world. The very nomenclature of the place itself was expressive of the sentiments its character had evoked in the minds of those whoso lot had brought them into direct contact with its wickedness. Listen to some of them—Cape Desolation, The Furies, Capo Deceit, Despair Inlet, Hope Island, Adventure Cove —each of them a tragedy in itself. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner appeared to have a firsthand knowledge of tho conditions that obtain in the locality when he said— And now the storm blast came, And lie was tyrannous and strong. He struck with liis o'ertaking wings And chased us South along. "With sloping musts and dipping prow. As who pursued with yell npd blow Still trends the shadow of his foe. And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, Loud roared the blast. And Southward nye we fled. How we made easting afterwards must wait for its telling.