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Travels in North America, 1832â"1834
A Concise Edition of the Journals of Prince Maximilian of Wied
By Marsha V. Gallagher, William J. Orr, Paul Schach, Dieter Karch UNIVERSITY OF OKLAHOMA PRESS
Copyright © 2017 Joslyn Art Museum
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8061-5856-3
CHAPTER 1
[Journey] from Europe to Boston
[FROM 7 MAY TO 4 JULY 1832]
7 May: At two o'clock, departure from Neuwied on board the steamboat Concordia. Evening at the Rheinberg [Hotel] in Cologne.
9 May: At five o'clock, arrival at Rotterdam. We took lodging at the Hôtel des Pays Bas [with a] beautiful view of the city. Many large ships: a war brig; five or six American ships; the beautiful new Indiaman (Prince of Orange). Six hundred men work on these docks. Became acquainted with Mr. Hoboken. He owned fourteen ships, was always building new ones, [had] his own dock [and a] country home close to the city, [with a] garden [and] greenhouses.
13 May: Dinner at Mr. Hoboken's home. Preserved Indian fruits, good wines, strawberries, melons; afterward, coffee with pipes and cigarros. In the evening, music; dancing near the piano.
15 May: In the morning, business. Wine and baggage brought on board. At ten o'clock, departure on the steamship De Zeeuw to Hellevoetsluis, [where] we went ashore and took lodging.
17 May: In the morning, wind and torrential rain; gulls, especially Larus ridibundus, with attractive plumage and black heads, flocked together above the turbulent water, looking for refuse. In the afternoon the brig Janus, [our passage to North America, was sighted.] We completed our affairs on land, boarded the ship at nine in the evening, [and] slept very quietly on board that night.
[18 May:] At two or three o'clock, the Janus weighed anchor and the pilot steered out to sea. The weather was nice. The shores disappeared [and] toward noon we could no longer see land. The sea was rough, all of us somewhat seasick; Mr. Bodmer was very sick; he slept on deck that night since our ship's cabin [had] an unpleasant odor [that] caused the sickness to be worse.
19 May: During the night we were becalmed. At nine thirty a view of Calais. On the opposite side we could clearly discern Dover Castle with a telescope. No wind all day; the ship sailed very slowly. At six in the evening we were about opposite the French coast between Calais and Boulogne. We saw neither marine animals nor marine plants, only a few birds. Today Mr. Bodmer felt well and finished several sketches.
21 May: Good weather but contrary wind; we tacked. The Janus is a brig of 170 tons, built in Plymouth near Boston, very durable and sound. Lengthwise the Janus measures 41 to 42 of my paces, and in width, at the mainmast, 9 to 10 paces. Cabin small, no windows aft, six bunks. Capt. Robbins was a native of Plymouth; thesecond was Master Gooden; the steward and cook, a mulatto; five sailors in addition.
24 May: In the morning, almost calm; the ship moved slowly forward. [Great Britain's] Land's End was already somewhat behind us. Toward noon the sun's heat became intense, 13-1/2° Réaumur in the shade. In the evening, light on the Scilly Islands.
25 May: A [barn] swallow (Hirundo rustica) flew aboard. In the afternoon an English battleship (probably seventy-four cannon) proudly sailed northward past us and hoisted its flag; we did the same. Several porpoises. In the evening a Dutch brig from Havana, which had made the voyage in forty days. We conversed with it.
26 May: During the night the wind shifted to an easterly, hence very favorable, direction. At noon we drank to the health of my eldest brother [August], whose birthday was today. Brisk wind during the afternoon; [at] night the sea raged fiercely, tossing the ship.
27–30 May: At nine o'clock [on 27 May] a large Dutch brig; [its Bavarian] skipper came on board and requested news from Europe. Took a letter [to brother Karl] along for me. In the afternoon, very high seas; during the night, [and for the next three days,] torrential rain and storms. We remained in the hatchway. Mr. Bodmer and Dreidoppel were a little sick.
31 May: Fierce gale from the northwest; dark squalls toward sundown; very high, obliquely rolling sea; the [Janus] listed enormously but luckily recovered. The sea beat against the ship and even [came] into our cabin.
1 June: Weather a little better [but] toward evening, torrential rain and storms again. With the sea rolling like high mountains, we plunged from crest to trough; we seemed to be sailing in a deep valley and could not see even 80 paces. The waves broke violently against the ship, and whoever ventured on deck was thoroughly drenched. The scene was dreadful but terribly beautiful! I had never seen anything like this, [not once] on [my] entire [1815 and 1817] Brazilian voyage; in this respect the [northern] Atlantic Ocean is far worse than the more southerly seas. We mostly lay in bed; for several nights [we did] not sleep; [we] could not stand on our feet in that foul-smelling, crowded cabin. Five persons were housed there [in] dismal captivity. The sailors worked terribly hard. Every evening I gave them some Genever (gin), of which they were very fond.
2–4 June: Weather even fiercer. The big foresail was ripped into shreds [one] night [but] in the morning a new one was spread. [Finally] the clouds parted somewhat, and the wind shifted to the north and became gentler and more favorable to us.
5 June: Toward morning, a strong northern breeze blew us [briskly] forward. [We] saw several varieties of petrels soaring above us the previous stormy days: Procellaria pelagica; another species, white like a gull (perhaps Procellaria glacialis) but black and white; another one grayish brown above, rust-red underneath. We saw no fish at all.
Today, for the first time in nine days, I could again think about my journal and add what is written here, but the motion was so strong that one could write only poorly [and] crookedly.
Afternoon very nice. The sailors repaired torn rope ladders [and] greased the masts with tallow, so that the sails would slide up and down more easily; they also smear their rain gear with boiled oil, so rain cannot penetrate it. Beautiful moonlit night; we slept peacefully.
6 June: After breakfast we examined the charts and books belonging to the ship. These included Elford's Marine Telegraph, a book [about numbered signal flags]. The Janus had these flags. All American ships carry this book.
At about ten or eleven o'clock, the first Portuguese menof-war (Physalia) appeared, about three or four of them, with several jellyfish or related [creatures] of bluish violet color, some of them yellowish or yellowish red on the bell or umbrella. In the afternoon, very little wind; in the evening, calm; innumerableMedusa pelagica and Portuguese men-of-war floated by. We caught several of the former.
7–8 June: We examined the ship's charts: the best one for the northern coast of America is that by Blunt, Northeastern Coast of North America from New York to Cape Canso including Sable Island.
9 June: Toward morning, calm; the sea had a heavy ground swell [and] a somewhat more greenish color. The sounding lead with a 140-fathom line was tossed out but did not reach bottom. The men were busy repairing several sails. At about three o'clock a very threatening mass of clouds appeared in the northwest. This immediately prompted Robbins to lower all the sails. What luck! For suddenly a violent storm squall with pelting rain broke upon us from the northwest; the captain assured us that never in his long career had he experienced a more furious one. The wind howled as [if] hundreds of bass viols were being stroked; the ropes flew about and emitted sounds like aeolian harps. The loosened sails fluttered and sounded terrible until they could be bound up: the sailors worked for several hours during the worst of the storm and finally accomplished the task, at the risk of their own lives.
The sea was frightfully wild; [waves] like high mountains broke on board and inundated the Janus; the leeward side was continually underwater [and] whoever came on deck was drenched. The ship plunged from the crests into the troughs of the waves; it groaned and creaked mightily, which sounded [increasingly] violent to us, in our small cabin down below. Robbins had lashed the rudder firmly in the correct direction and was clinging to the foredeck of the ship. The terrifying storm continued until nine o'clock in the evening, when the wind subsided somewhat. The ship, to my great astonishment, had maintained a constant uprightness [through it all]. [That] night agale howled, which seemed mild after the previous storm, although [it] was severe enough.
10 June: [The stormy weather continued and] the ship struggled against the contrary wind. We were confined to our beds the whole day. Mr. Bodmer was sick, Dreidoppel somewhat less so. With such turbulent motion, there could be no thought of working.
12 June: In the morning, nice. The entire deck was scrubbed. On the ocean [there were] numerous round spots, which reflected all the colors of the rainbow. The sailors maintained that these are composed of fatty material spewed out by whales and othercetaceans. A school of porpoises swam ahead of the ship. Someone reached for the harpoon, but they moved away. Temperature of the air 14-3/4°R, of the water 14°R, the warmest day until now.
14 June: One ferocious storm squall followed hard upon another. Robbins prepared for it by taking in all the sails; he was extremely cautious [and] constantly on deck, steadfastly observing the wind, so his eyes were red and inflamed from the spraying salt water.
15 June: The ship was turned in a southerly direction. We had adverse weather the entire voyage; if the wind was favorable, it was very weak; if it was contrary, it became a gale and the sea towered up against us.
16 June: Weather a little better; we could sit on deck. Temperature of the air (a cold wind) 11°R, of the water 14°R. Skipper Robbins explained this great discrepancy between the temperature of the air and water as a result of the warmth of the Gulf Stream, flowing from the Gulf of Mexico. That may well be correct, for this warm current extends as far as the region south of the [Grand Banks], exactly where we were [then].
All afternoon a strong northwest wind blew, which drove the sea ahead very hard against us. Behind the ship, above [our] smooth, white-streaked wake, as many as twenty small petrels (Procellaria pelagica) hovered incessantly and often came very close. Unfortunately, we [were unable] to get a single bird since it [was always] impossible to lower a boat.
17 June: Beautiful, clear weather, but again, no wind, [so] the ship lay virtually still. Water temperature much colder than yesterday, probably because we were getting closer to the banks. Today the large storeroom on the deck of the ship was opened to obtain zwieback. I had my gun case removed and a double-barreled shotgun made ready to shoot storm petrels. During the noon meal, the comment was made that we had now eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner together at the mess table ninety-two times, yet we will certainly not get to Boston in less than two weeks. We amused ourselves [that afternoon] by tossing small pieces of fat to the storm petrels, which devoured them instantly.
18 June: Dense fog covered the ocean. It was extremely wet on board; the sails dripped. At three thirty there was thunder in the west and northwest, directly before the ship. So that we should indeed learn all the joys of life at sea, a dark, ominous thunderstorm came closer and closer, a long streak of black clouds on the horizon. The thunder rumbled more hollowly and not as sharply as on land; bolts of lightning struck the water. The necessary precautions were taken: all studding and other sails without exception were taken in; the yards were set against the wind. Without sails the ship rolled violently and unpleasantly. Then the thundershower came. Several thunderclaps resembled cannon shots [but] the lightning did not come very close. [In a short while], several sails were again hoisted. The rain continued to pour down heavily.
About five in the afternoon, dolphins (porpoises) appeared. Gooden, the mate, [grabbed] the harpoon, and before I had reached the prow of the ship, someone called out that a fish had been caught. The head of the harpoon had passed completely through it, and the heavy animal, 6 French feet in length, was gradually hoisted. It struggled violently, and the iron of the harpoon was on the point of tearing out when a rope was thrown around it below the pectoral fins, and the prize was successfully brought on board. This dolphin (Delphinus delphis) is not the porpoise (Delphinus phocaena) found in the European ocean; it [is] very different. It was 6 lines short of 6 feet; dark steel gray above, white underneath, and with some long gray stripes and cloudy markings along its side. The animal bled profusely. Someone cut it above the caudal fin, and within five minutes it was dead. It rained steadily while Mr. Bodmer made a sketch of the dolphin and I measured it. Afterward the skin of the animal was removed along with the fat (blubber), which covers the entire inside of the skin to about the thickness of a finger, and under it lay the dark-red muscle meat, neat and clean. It is said to be very tasty, but the blubber is stripped away as soon as possible, since otherwise the meat takes on the taste of train oil. We examined the internal organs of the dolphin as evening approached.
[19 June:] For breakfast today we had fried dolphin liver, and all of us found it very tasty, as good as venison liver. In addition, we had salt beef, half moldy American cheese, and coffee. The lead was tossed out — the same line used recently — but did not touch bottom; therefore we were not yet on the [Grand Banks] of Newfoundland. At noon for lunch we had a dish of dolphin meat, pork, potatoes, and dumplings in a whitish sauce; the dolphin meat, quite black, was boiled [and] somewhat stringy, but tasty.
20 June: A brisk wind drove the ship [while] fog covered clothing as though it were hoarfrost. Many birds [were seen, so] we knew we were close to the [Grand Banks] and coasts of Newfoundland. About seven o'clock [that evening], a calm; the ship rolled to [such] an extraordinary degree [that] one could scarcely keep one's footing. We saw a fishing boat (a two-masted schooner) [and] realized that we [must be] on the [Grand Banks]. The leadwas thrown out and touched bottom at 35 fathoms, proof that we were [indeed there]. The night was calm.
21 June: Overcast sky, wind northwest, contrary; our course, unfortunately, southwesterly again. The [Grand Banks] of Newfoundland [are] 570 miles long from north to south and 180miles wide at [the] widest point. The water is 30 to 40 fathomsdeep, and the [Banks are] said to be completely overgrown with Fucus (rockweed), in which live countless fish, especially codfish (Gadus morhua), halibut, and other varieties. These fishing grounds are very well known. Every year about 150 schooners, ships of 70 to 80 tons and crews of eight to ten men, go there from the American coast, stay for several months, and fish [until] they have a full cargo (probably 33,000 fish or more [per ship]). In America these fish sell for two to three dollars (five to seven and a half florins) per hundredweight. Many French ships also come here to fish.
In the afternoon, almost calm. A guillemot (Uria troile) swam beside the ship. The captain shot it and had it fetched with the boat. It was incorporated into [my] collection.
24–26 June: I had a long discussion with Master Robbins about nautical observations on board a ship. Measuring the altitude of the sun [to determine latitude] at noon is very easy; I had learned it almost perfectly, and it provided much pleasure and entertainment. [On the 25th] we were south of Sable Island [and] our bowsprit was directed toward Nova Scotia.
27 June: In the morning, dreary, overcast sky. Many indications of nearby land: grass, Fucus, and other flat greenish objects, which we could not distinguish clearly, floating more deeply in the sea. Several birds not seen before. We were now at the western end of Sable Island Bank and approximately 60 miles from the coast of Nova Scotia. The various tacks that we made since yesterday afternoon, [because of unfavorable winds, totaled 124 miles].
28 June: A head wind blew straight from the west and the sea rolled against us. Last evening we were no farther than 25 miles from the coast of Nova Scotia; now we ran in a straight line toward Roseway Bank. The ship made [many more] tacks. [That night] the powerful, unfavorable west wind that had been blowing uninterruptedly for the past three days developed into a violentgale.
29 June: The ship made slow progress, since the sea surged very high against us. [But by noon] we were directly southwest of and not very far from St. George's Bank.
At lunch today we had no more wine; forty-three bottles had been emptied [and] we still saw [no] harbor. We made up for this lack as best we could with a beverage [made of] water, vinegar, and molasses, which is heavily consumed in America when cideror apple wine is lacking.
Various objects on the ship, such as water casks and the like, were painted today. Some of the sailors worked on the ropes, always in need of repair. We observed much Fucus [and] a few Procellaria pelagica inspecting an old meat cask thrown into the sea.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Travels in North America, 1832â"1834 by Marsha V. Gallagher, William J. Orr, Paul Schach, Dieter Karch. Copyright © 2017 Joslyn Art Museum. Excerpted by permission of UNIVERSITY OF OKLAHOMA PRESS.
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