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 kiBEARY OF CONGRESS. I 
 ^. /o^ §pyy ^ # 
 
 #4^^^? ftopS"9^^i ||o- - # 
 
 ! UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.! 
 
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^^1 
 
 0^ 
 
 &H 
 
 JAMES CEOXALL PALMEB, U. S. N. 
 M 
 
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 ' Auaax nimium qui freta primus 
 Rate tamfragili perMo- rupit." 
 
 Seneca. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 1). VAN NOSTEAND, 192 BROADWAY 
 
 MDCCCLXVIII. 
 
 
 r 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
 
 D. VAN NOSTRAND, 
 
 In the Clerk's office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. 
 
 i)3j 
 
 C. S. Westcott & Co., Printers, 70 Johu atreet, N. "?. 
 
\i 
 
 
 nimtiu '^uimf^ |^0ttg. 
 
FROM NATURE. 
 
 1. Title : Governor's Island, New York. 
 
 2. Orange Bay, Tierra del Fuego : page 9 
 
 3. Cape Horn : " 13 
 
 4. Lying to : " 17 
 
 5. " Between two Icebergs" : " 21 
 
 6. Floe-ice : " 27 
 
 7. Albatross : " 33 
 
 8. Ice-islands : " 39 
 
 9. Helmsman : " 47 
 
 10. Cabin: " 51 
 
 11. Berth-deck : • " 61 
 
 12. Matavai Bay, Tahiti : " 71 
 
 13. Fuegian Canoe : " 73 
 
Jl^ti0lac0. 
 
 The main facts recounted in tlie following verses, and 
 particularly in the Notes and Appendix, were gathered from 
 the log-book and other journals of the Flying-Fish, confirmed 
 by the author's personal experience aboard the Peacock, in 
 the U. S. Exploring Expedition of 1838 to 1842. 
 
 New York: 186t. 
 
Muxi^Vu ^gluxim^t'^ ^uwg 
 
 Deep in a far-off, desert bay,' 
 Begirt by pinnacles of snow, 
 
 A lonely bark at anchor lay, 
 In Austral twilight's fiery glow, 
 
10 
 
 Too frail a shell, too lightly up-bome 
 On every bubble of the wave, 
 
 To face the terrors of Cape Horn, 
 Or stern Antarctic seas to brave. 
 
 Far nieeter lot once hers, to ghde 
 O'er Hudson's bosom bright and stUl ; 
 
 Or float becalmed on tranquil tide. 
 Past craggy steep and sloping hiU. 
 
 Now, like a land-bird blown away 
 By tempests from its happy nest, 
 
 She flies before the whirling spray. 
 To seek this dreary place of rest. 
 
 Chill night-air through her cordage sings: 
 Her sides the drowsy waters lave ; 
 
 And, like a gull with folded wings, 
 She sits secure upon the wave ; 
 
11 
 
 While, over-head, yon holy sign, 
 The southern cross, is in the sky ; 
 
 Assurance that an eye divine 
 
 Watches where fleets and swallows fly. 
 
II. 
 
 The braying penguin sounds his liorn : 
 Wild flights of cormorants are screaming 
 
 Their croaking welcome to the mom, 
 Athwart yon frozen mountains gleaming^ 
 
 (13) 
 
14 
 
 Fleet as the tern that wakejFul springs 
 From stunted beech or blighted willow, 
 
 "Wee, wandering bark, she spreads her wings, 
 Once more to essay the treacherous billow. 
 
 And such a morning, o'er the face 
 
 Of wintry region, rarely smiled; 
 For, 'mid the ripples at its base, 
 
 Even the stormy Cape looks mild.' 
 
 Flushed high with hope, inured to spurn 
 Perils by battle, winds or waves, 
 
 These eager rovers southward turn, 
 To seek new space for human graves. 
 
 Ah ! had his primal sin that bore 
 
 Man's doom of death, but made him wise, 
 
 Not now could luxury or lore 
 Tempt us away from Paradise : 
 
15 
 
 From motlier fond, gray grandsire old, 
 
 Dear haunts where wedded love had birth, 
 
 No thufst for glory, greed of gold, 
 
 Could lure us up and down the earth ; 
 
 But youth, strength, manhood, wisdom, passed 
 In vain pursuit, once doomed to roam. 
 
 Fruitless regrets depict at last, 
 Bright joys forever left at home. 
 
in. 
 
 Fierce winds are up : storm-blasts once more, 
 
 Asserting empire of the main, 
 Now onward lead with thundering roar, 
 
 Their mingled hosts of hail and rain. 
 
 (17) 
 
18 
 
 Ice-fiends' congealing breaths uproUed 
 In castled clouds piled vast and high,' 
 
 Chill back thick-serried biUows bold, 
 Foaming defiance to the sky. 
 
 Deep-down where combs the hoUovv wave, 
 Scared sea-birds swooping find a lee ; 
 
 But whither thou, while tempests rave? 
 What refuge, puny bark, for thee? 
 
 Now by the surges upward whirled. 
 She totters on their crests of snow ; 
 
 Anon, precipitately hurled, 
 
 Down topples to the gulf below. 
 
 Skies gathering thick their leaden frown, 
 Lash her with drifts of cutting sleet : 
 
 Mountainous waves boil up, rush down ; 
 Seas shroud her ; foam her winding-sheet. 
 
19 
 
 That dove lone-wandering from the ark, 
 
 To seek her long-deserted nest, 
 Had vainly hovered round this bark, 
 
 For one dry spot her wing to rest. 
 
 Wild, restless creatures of the brine 
 With gambols mock her hapless plight : 
 
 Loud-snorting herds of fishy swine ^ 
 
 Reel, plunge, run races with her flight ; 
 
 And, in the vortex of her wake, 
 
 High spouts the whale his flood of spray, 
 Making the waters fairly quake. 
 
 Beneath his flooks' tremendous play. 
 
 Serenely sweeps that stately bird. 
 
 Whose wing plumed white with polar snows, 
 In toilless, ceaseless flight, unstirred, 
 
 Baffles the storm in proud repose; 
 
20 
 
 And, near the roving albatross, 
 
 Pale sheath- bills flicker round and round ; 
 While giddy petrels hop across, 
 
 O'er clefts where janthine might be drowned. 
 
 With oval disk and feeble blaze, 
 Slow shrinks away the palhd sun ; 
 
 And night comes groping through the haze, 
 Like guilty ghost in cerements dun. 
 
 The dank, raw fog, close-settling down, 
 
 Vaults the drear waste, and hangs its pall 
 
 E,ound the horizon's narrowing zone, 
 Where seas heave up their wavy wall. 
 
 Outspent, the tempest lulls its howl : 
 Winds moan themselves away to sleep ; 
 
 And darkness broods with sullen scowl, 
 Over the stranger and the deep. 
 
lY. 
 
 No sparrow greets the clear, cold morn: 
 No swain comes forth with carol gay ; 
 
 But wild the sea-bird's scream is borne ; 
 And thus the sailor chants his lay. 
 
 C21) 
 
22 
 
 Sweetly from the land of roses, 
 
 Sighing comes the northern breeze 
 Bland the smile of dawn reposes, 
 
 AH in blushes on the seas : 
 Now within the sleeping sail. 
 Murmurs soft a gentle gale : 
 
 Ease the sheet off : keep away ! 
 
 Glory guides us south to-day. 
 
 Yonder, see ! an icy portal 
 
 Opening lures us to the pole ; 
 
 And, where never entered mortal, 
 Thither speed she to her goal. 
 
 Hopes before, and doubts behind, 
 
 On we fly before the wind. 
 
 Steady, so ! Now, breezes, blow 
 Glory guides, as south we go. 
 
23 
 
 Vainly do these gloomy borders 
 
 All their frightful forms oppose : 
 Vainly frown these frozen warders, 
 
 Mailed in sleet, and helmed in snows 
 Though beneath yon ghastly skies. 
 Curdled all the ocean lies. 
 
 Lash we up its foam anew ! 
 
 Dash we all its terrors through ! 
 
 Circled now by columns hoary, 
 
 All this field of fame is ours ! 
 Here to carve a name in story ; 
 
 Else a tomb beneath yon towers. 
 Southward, devious way we trace, 
 Winding through an icy maze; 
 
 Luff her to — She's through! She's through! 
 
 Glory leads, and we pursue. 
 
24 
 
 Undaunted, though, despite their mirth. 
 Still by a certain awe subdued, 
 
 They reach the last retreat on earth, 
 TVTiere nature hoped for solitude. 
 
 Between two icebergs gaunt and pale. 
 
 Gigantic sentinels on post. 
 Without a welcome or a hail. 
 
 Intrude they on the realm of frost. 
 
 In desolation vast and wild, 
 
 Outstretched a mighty ruin lies : 
 
 Huge towers on massy ramparts piled : 
 High domes whose azure pales the skies. 
 
 And surges wash with sullen swash. 
 O'er crystal court and sapphire hall, 
 
 Through arches rush with furious gush, 
 And slowly sap the solid wall. 
 
25 
 
 Cold, cold as death ! The sky so bleak, 
 TwjHght and noon both seem to shiver; 
 
 And, starting back from frozen peak, 
 The bhnking sunbeams quail and quiver. 
 
 They smile, those hardy, patient men, 
 
 Though smiles but mock that scene so drear 
 
 They speak ; yet words are spent in vain, 
 Which only freeze upon the ear f 
 
 And when at eve, with downy flake, 
 The snow-storm dr.ops its veil around. 
 
 Weary may sleep, or watchful wake ; 
 But both ahke in dreams are bound. 
 
•M''*. '^ 
 
 
 Beniglited in the fleecy shower, 
 
 Wee wanderer ! still she southward creeps 
 
 Now overhung by tottering tower ; 
 
 Now all becalmed 'neath jutting steeps. 
 
 (27) 
 
28 
 
 Dim througli the gloom, pale masses loom, 
 Like some vast wintry burial ground : 
 
 Here stalking slow in shroud of snow. 
 
 Ghost-like the night-watch tramps his round. 
 
 Gray t"oalight ghmmers forth at last : 
 
 The drapery of snow is fui'led; 
 And isles of ice slow-filing past. 
 
 Reveal the confines of the world. 
 
 Day marches up yon wide expanse, 
 
 Like herald of eternal dawn ; 
 But shifting icebergs fast advance. 
 
 And shut him out vrith. shadows wan. 
 
 Mountains on hoary mountains high, 
 O'ertop the sea-bird's loftiest flight : 
 
 All bleak the air ; all bleached the skj' ; 
 The pent-up, stifl'ened sea, all white. 
 
29 
 
 Scarce moves she now, mere bank of snow ; 
 
 Each sail festooned with gehd frill ; 
 Borne down with drifts her sluggish prow ; 
 
 And every rope one icicle. 
 
 Amid the fearful stillness round, 
 Unbroken by the faintest breezing, 
 
 Hist! there — again — that crackling sound — 
 That death-watch chck — the sea is freezing ! 
 
 Breathless they listen, trembhng not ; 
 
 But anxious gaze meets anxious gaze ; 
 And in one flash, one glare of thought. 
 
 Each man lives back his earliest days. 
 
 Life-time in that concentered dream ! 
 
 Its youth, love, joy ; its sin ; its pain ! 
 Brief as some meteor's erring gleam ; 
 
 And then — that realm of ice again ! 
 
30 
 
 Squadrons of icebergs ! all arrayed 
 Against one frail intruder still ; 
 
 Ghastly and giim ; but terrors fade, 
 Before heroic force of will. 
 
 Uprise, all life, that gallant crew. 
 
 Prompt action echoing brief command ; 
 
 Each arm of man now nerved anew, 
 With strength from His Almighty hand. 
 
 With straining oars and bending spars, 
 They dash their icy chains asunder ; 
 
 Porce h'ozen doors ; burst crystal bars ; 
 And drive the sparkling fragments under. 
 
 In fitful gusts, the rising winds 
 
 Wake the still waste with hollow laughter; 
 While icebergs like beleaguering fiends. 
 
 Close up before and follow after. 
 
% 
 
 31 
 
 Loud whoops the gale ; out-swells the sail ; 
 
 Quivers her frame to blow on blow ; 
 At every blast one danger past ; 
 
 At every bound to meet new foe. 
 
 Now to the charge driving amain, 
 That fragile bow uprearing high ; 
 
 Recoiling, rushing on again. 
 
 Making the ice and spliaters fly. 
 
 Careering, reeling, on her side 
 
 Hove down, with burnished keel all bare , 
 Righting again with sudden slide ; 
 
 Dashing the waters high in air : 
 
 Jar — ^jarring on, each writhing mast. 
 
 Back-stay and shroud now well-nigh riven ; 
 
 The wild, white canvas strains its fast ; 
 Frail timbers from their bolts are driven. 
 
32 
 
 On, little bark ! On, yet awhile, 
 
 Across the frozen desert flee ! 
 Yonder behold that welcome smile, 
 
 Sparkling above no ice-bomid sea! 
 
 Ye baffled monsters ! fall behind ; 
 
 Nor longer urge pursuit so vain : 
 One moment more, and rest we find! 
 
 'Tis past — She's safe ! She's safe again ! 
 
 With drooping peak now lying to, 
 
 Where sea-fowl brood she checks her motion, 
 Like them to plume herself anew. 
 
 In the bright mirror of the ocean. 
 
 All signs of strife soon cleared away, 
 
 Northward they turn : God speed them on ' 
 
 To climes beneath whose genial ray, 
 Repose is sweet when toil is done. 
 
VI. 
 
 In danger's dread fraternity, 
 
 Friend clings to friend with steadier strain ; 
 And foes in common doom to die, 
 
 By mutual plaint soothe mutual pain :^ 
 
 So these late-snatched from icy grave, 
 Friendly before, now brothers grown, 
 
 In lives that each had helped to save. 
 Regard all others' as their own. 
 
 (33) 
 
34 
 
 Thus, while the vessel northward glides, 
 
 Seeking Tahiti's coral shore, 
 Each to the rest his tale confides, 
 
 Conning their jojs and sorrows o'er. 
 
 In secret, one had nursed some grief, 
 Erewhile too rankling to unfold ; 
 
 But tears let out brought slow relief, 
 And thus his pent-up woes he told : 
 
 1 
 
 The stars may aye their vigUs keep, 
 
 Above my boy's unconscious head ; 
 And summer-dews may lightly weep, 
 
 Where tear of mine was never shed : 
 The winds that idly whistle by. 
 
 May pause to murmur round the stone, 
 Where never yet a father's sigh, 
 
 Saddened the echoes with its moan. 
 
35 
 
 2 
 Not once for me the sunny smile 
 
 Beamed like a rainbow through his tear; 
 Nor knew we mutual love, the while 
 
 He made his short, sad visit here; 
 And I may die and be forgot, 
 
 Nor e'er the humble right enjoy. 
 To kneel with her on that far spot, 
 
 Where sleeps our first-born, orphaned hoy. 
 
 No eye undimmed by pitying tear. 
 Save one, perhaps of all most sad: 
 
 * Belay now, messmate : try what cheer 
 May be aloft there: try it, lad!" 
 
36 
 
 Turn thee, little spirit ! turn 
 To thy brighter home above : 
 
 Linger not below to learn 
 All this agony of love: 
 
 Heaven yields thee only joy: 
 
 Earth has sorrow for thee, boy. 
 
 Call me not so soon away : 
 Never knew I father yet : 
 
 While he lingers, let me stay, 
 Solace to his Juliet : 
 
 Call me not so soon away ; 
 
 Let me near my mother stay! 
 
37 
 3 
 
 Seekest thou a father's love? 
 
 Hie thee, gentle spirit, home ! 
 HE awaits thee here above : 
 
 Come then to " OUK FATHER "—come ! 
 Only from thy mother fly, 
 That her hope may be on high. 
 
 She gripes ! The main-sheet's trimmed too flat ! 
 
 Else, whence this spray on every face? 
 Sail, ho ! Lee bow ! Stands North at that ! 
 
 Ease ofl', boys ! Here's a live stem-chase ! 
 
VII. 
 
 Dripping with mist, the rayless day 
 
 Squints through the gloaming, lialf-awake 
 
 The shark swims close to watch for prey, 
 And boobies nod on either peak. 
 
 (.39) 
 
40 
 
 Slow drag the hours; with swashing sea, 
 And flapping sails, and creaking gear; 
 
 Impatience of monotony ; 
 
 Longing to greet some friendly ear. 
 
 In glimmering halo overhead, 
 
 Halts the dim sun at murky noon ; 
 
 And fast the shades of evening spread, 
 When, hark ! they hear a voice, a tune ! 
 
 The fog no eye, no glass could pierce. 
 Vibrates to song, and welcome brings 
 
 Familiar strains to eager ears. 
 
 While thus the curtained chorus sings. 
 
41 
 
 We gathered a twig from the live-oak tree, 
 
 For a relic of love and of home; 
 And away we stood for the Polar sea, 
 With spirits as light, and with hearts as free, 
 
 As the crest of its snow-white foam. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 In the happy old Peacock, the lucky old Peacock, 
 
 We jump to the pipe's merry call; 
 And spread to the gale her saucy tail; 
 
 And dash through the ice and aU, 
 
 My boys ! 
 
 And dash through the ice and all ! 
 
42 
 
 We got down at last where the sea froze fast, 
 
 And warned us to put her about ; 
 But we thought it a shame for a fowl of her game, 
 To turn straight back on the course she came ; 
 
 So we thumped her right in — and out. 
 
 Chokus. 
 
 Our pluck did not faU till we lost our tail ; 
 
 And then 'twas high time to belay; 
 But we stuck her clean through ; and it came out anew ; 
 And if any man says that this yarn is not true, 
 
 Let him go there himself, some day.'° 
 
 Chorus. 
 
43 
 
 While yet they sing, a Southern air 
 Too light to lift the feathery vane, 
 
 Chills down the fog ; and, with a cheer, 
 They greet their consort on the main. 
 
 She too shows battle-scars enow, 
 
 With taffirail crushed and rudder shattered : 
 Gnawed to the forefoot hangs her bow ; 
 
 And channels, bends and quarters battered, 
 
 ' Lucky," indeed, to 'scape once more, 
 From all the dangers she has passed : 
 
 ' Lucky," to reach her native shore, 
 Though broken at the fount at last. 
 
 Yet a few days of smiling skies. 
 
 Their common course they both pursue, 
 
 Till, scudding North, the strong one flies, 
 Leaving her consort lying to. 
 
44 
 
 Flies to her doom : Columbia's surge 
 Wails o'er the wreck ignored by fame ; 
 
 And only some survivor's dirge, 
 
 Like mine, recalls her honoured name. 
 
 1. 
 
 My tent beside the Oregon," 
 
 O'erlooks the sullen wave. 
 Whose turbid waters darkly frown, 
 
 Above the Peacock's grave ; 
 Where surges weave the shifting sands 
 
 Around her for a pall; 
 And, like a spectral sentry, stands 
 
 The toppling overfall.'^ 
 
45 
 
 2. 
 
 Mourn not lier fate that, round the world, 
 
 Thrice circled with the sea,"' 
 And thrice to every land unfurled 
 
 The banner of the free : 
 She came to plant her standard fast, 
 
 Where it had drooped before;'* 
 Content to rest her bones, at last, 
 
 Beside it on the shore. 
 
>. ^ -111 
 
 vin. 
 
 Good sailor, when storms are connilsing the deep ; 
 
 Sad mortal, whom, haply, misfortune pursues ; 
 Whether dawn break in war-clouds, or stars guard your sleep, 
 
 Live or die, smile or sigh, "It is all in the cruise.'''' 
 
 Fair weather makes your sailor sage, 
 As fortune fair makes all seem wise ; 
 
 And maidens ripening into age, 
 
 Might woo trade-winds and tropic skies. 
 
48 
 
 Bright sun all day ; bright stars all night ; 
 
 And waves with waves harmonious blending; 
 Cloud chasing cloud, in fleecy flight; 
 
 Rainbow to shower its radiance lending : 
 
 "AU in the cruise!'' Snow-storms forgot, 
 
 The very icebergs' grim array 
 Lost in the glow of sunnier spot, 
 
 Or melting into myths away. 
 
 And now approaching haunts of men, 
 The " sciat alter" fijes each mind:'* 
 
 Some drown, some freeze themselves again : 
 Some blow away in gusts of wind. 
 
 Sketched on tarpaulin's dingy screen, 
 Ice-cHfi's in chalk prodigious loom ; 
 
 And tragically lowers the scene, 
 
 Where the live artist met his doom. 
 
49 
 
 Lovers breathe self-oonsuming fires, 
 To damsels flirting far away ; 
 
 Or ship-wrecked sons embracing sires, 
 For blessiQgs, not remittance, pray. 
 
 Each reads, and many spell, aloud 
 Their various musings to the rest ; 
 
 Nor ever more indulgent crowd, 
 Hailed the last effort as the best. 
 
 Daguerreotypes sun-dried anew. 
 
 In dazzled eyes like mirrors gleam. 
 
 Reflecting to complacent view, 
 At least one object of esteem. 
 
 Back-hair enough for selvagees; 
 
 Ribbons in bows, for marlines handy ; 
 And amulets and recipes ; 
 
 And kisses cased in sugar-candy. 
 
50 
 
 But mock them not : however mean, 
 
 However thoughtlessly betrayed, 
 Each rehc brings to mind some scene 
 
 In which the artless actor played. 
 
 The feather dropped from maiden's crest, 
 
 May weightier prove than vows light-spoken ; 
 
 "Ae saxpence brak in twa," may test 
 The other half, love's homely token. 
 
 And who could scent the withered leaves 
 
 Reluctant fingers half disclose. 
 Nor wander home with one who weaves 
 
 His descant of a '§nM '$oszl 
 
IX. 
 
 1 
 
 Sweet lady, by whose -early care 
 
 My frail and tender bud was nursed ; 
 
 Embowered amid whose golden hair, 
 These petals into fragrance burst; 
 
 Dear lady, 'twas my grateful pride 
 
 To help to deck thee, beauteous bride! 
 
52 
 
 2 
 
 Green as mj leaves thy blooming youth 
 Pure as my breath thy holy vow : 
 
 Immaculate that virgin truth, 
 
 As the white blossom on thy brow: 
 
 Ah ! happy heart, thy love, new-bom 
 
 Amid Hfe's roses, knew no thorn. 
 
 Limpid the dews from Heaven that wept, 
 Adown my stem in summer-air; 
 
 Yet sparkled they not while they crept, 
 With half the radiance of that tear 
 
 Which on thy sunny eyehd shone, 
 
 When thou didst cease to be thine own. 
 
53 
 4 
 
 And when those modest blushes stooped, 
 To nestle in a lover's breast, 
 
 My tiny leaflets also drooped, 
 
 And with thy roses were caressed ; 
 
 So, in a faithful heart, we heard 
 
 The echo of his plighted word. 
 
 A hand as gentle as thine own, 
 
 Removed me from that wedded brow 
 
 A voice of low, sweet, plaintive tone, 
 Pensively, sadly, whispered now, 
 
 Fond blessings o'er me for another, 
 
 Who loved thee, lady, as thy brother. 
 
54 
 6 
 
 He, pilgrim on the cheerless deep, 
 
 Where tender flowrets never blow. 
 Pressed me with kisses to his Hp, 
 And sighed to see me withered so ; 
 "She knew its early bloom," he said; 
 "I only know that it is dead.'"'* 
 
 HcJw fondly o'er each faded leaf, 
 That lone and loving exile himg! 
 
 As if to fancy, or to grief, 
 
 They spoke in some familiar tongue, 
 
 Of rural haunt, or garden-shade. 
 
 Where roses lurked and childhood played. 
 
55 
 
 But far from home and love away, 
 Our weary fate was still to range: 
 
 Seas aye the same, day after day; 
 But skies by night in endless change 
 
 Until the evening-star at last^ 
 
 Was all our relic of the Past. 
 
 9 
 
 We wandered where the dreamy palm 
 Swayed murmuring o'er the sleeping v/ave, 
 
 And, down through waters clear and calm, 
 Peered into depths of coral cave, 
 
 Whose echoes never had been stirred 
 
 By breath of man or song of bird.'' 
 
56 
 10 
 
 Far beyond fields where gold is sought, 
 Onward the roving vessel sped ; 
 
 "Where battles never had been fought, 
 Nor blood for glory ever shed ; 
 
 And where th^ tame leviathan 
 
 Knew not the enmity of man. 
 
 11 
 
 Domes, towers, palaces of snow. 
 
 Where latent storms lay frozen asleep : 
 
 Here silence brooded long ago, 
 Over the stern, mysterious deep : 
 
 Here, with chilled sense and spirit awed, 
 
 Each felt himself alone with God. 
 
57 
 12 
 
 Beyond the scope of aching sight, 
 Lay without limit, save the Pole, 
 
 One drifting waste of dismal white, 
 Whereon the sun could find no goal ; 
 
 For, soon as he had touched the plain, 
 
 Uprose the jaded orb again."* 
 
 13 
 
 And when day's waning, wearied beam 
 Yielded to some long-absent star, 
 
 Austral Aurora's glittering gleam' "* 
 From sea to zenith flashed; and far 
 
 Bound the horizon, rainbows rolled. 
 
 Inwove with lightning's vivid gold. 
 
58 
 14 
 
 Ah! how we joyed at length to turn, 
 From vales beneath whose shroud of snow, 
 
 Oallixena and budless fern, 
 
 Pernettia wild, and Juncus grow. 
 
 To bathe again in vernal shower, 
 
 Or seek repose in lady's bower. 
 
 15 
 
 But now, where gaudy tulips bloom, 
 And lilies fill their cups with dew, 
 
 No more my petals breathe perfume. 
 
 Nor blend with fair cheek's varying hue ; 
 
 But breath of love more sweet than they; 
 
 Smile of my lady far more gay. 
 
59 
 16 
 
 So, gentle mistress ! once again 
 Intwine me with, thy golden hair; 
 
 And let those dewy lashes rain 
 
 On these dried leaves one single tear 
 
 Then will I envy not their pride 
 
 Whose blossoms decked not thee, fair bride. 
 
/ / 
 
 ^^ - 
 
 
 X. 
 
 The sun sets in the rudely West, 
 And '■'■ All the starboard watch" is set;^ 
 
 While to their hammocks dive the rest, 
 Longing to dream or to forget. 
 
 (61) 
 
62 
 
 Nor e'er more grateful benison 
 
 Than Boatswain's welcome call bestows ; 
 
 Nor music breathing sweeter tone 
 Than his, when piping to repose. 
 
 What may prove coffin, any day. 
 
 Serves them for cradle, every night ; 
 
 And those devoid of grace to pray. 
 Might well thank God for cares so light. 
 
 No wealth to lose, and none to win ; 
 Little to want, and less to get : 
 " They toil not, neither do they spin ;" 
 And waste few thoughts in vain regret. 
 
 Let them turn in, then ; let them snore, 
 And build air-castles as they may ; 
 
 Nor envy them their shadowy shore. 
 Their homes in cloud-land, far away. 
 
63 
 
 And if one dreamer fright his mates, 
 With visions that may sleep appall, 
 
 What soul but so anticipates. 
 
 Sometimes, the final doom of all? 
 
 " What ails you, man ? What made you hail ?" 
 But, answer struggling in his throat, 
 He gasps out, "Are we under sail? 
 "Are all aboard? Is she afloat? 
 
 "I thought she struck, and, all in bulk, 
 "Buried us deep beneath the sands; 
 
 "And, some of us, "we tried to skulk, 
 "When the Archangel piped all hands. 
 
 "And then the sea, in one big wave, 
 "Bushed out, and left us high and dry; 
 
 " And all ashore was grave on grave, 
 "Away into the very sky. 
 
64 
 
 "In cold, bare bones, the dusty dead, 
 " Bodies and sotds and sins unearthed, 
 
 "Immortal, doubting whither sped, 
 
 " Crept forth from where they lately berthed. 
 
 "And, 'mid the gibbering, palsied throng, 
 " One horror-stricken wail I heard, 
 
 " From hopeless soul remorseful wrung : 
 " I hear it still — Aye, every word 1" 
 
65 
 
 The morning breaks : liow long have I been sleeping ? 
 Methought I heard a wailing cry, 
 Like mourners raise when mortals die : 
 Methought I saw around my children weeping ! 
 Where be they now? And wherefore, aU alone, 
 Do I lie here beside this crumbhng stone? 
 A hideous glare 
 Affrights the air ; 
 And, from the hollow firmament, 
 Behold the fainting' planets rent. 
 Fly whizzing through the void of space profound ; 
 
 While earthquakes rive the shuddering ground ; 
 Harsii-clamoring back the summons from the skies, 
 "Akise to Judgment, all ye dead, aeise!" 
 
66 
 
 By what strange force, and whither, am I led? 
 They call not me ! I am not dead ! 
 
 Dead ! Dead ! 'Twas only yesterday, 
 
 I watched my urchins at their play. 
 
 And gloried in their early pride, 
 
 As I beheld them, side by side, 
 
 Striving against their fellows. How ! 
 
 Can these be they? These men? The brow 
 Of one all gory ; and the other — 
 
 Great God ! he wields a reeking brand ! 
 
 Blood in his eyes ! Blood on his hand ! 
 Stay, murderer, stay ! That is thy brother ! 
 Point not to ine, accursed fratricide ! 
 I taught thee not — Alas ! I taught them pride ! 
 
 So for inheritance they strove ! 
 
 I taught them pride instead of love : 
 Thus, by his brother's blow, my t wain-born boy ! he died. 
 And she by whom their innocence was nursed, 
 
67 
 
 All ! where was she, when this volcano burst ? 
 My faithful love ! I might have hoped the tomb 
 Had offered to her heart a peaceful home ; 
 But now, too late, alas ! I learn to feel. 
 In this appalling consciousness of ill, 
 This awful intuition, that the Soul 
 Gains not oblivion at life's final goal. 
 Had I but hstened to her pious prayer, 
 And mocked her not — 
 
 Who passes there? 
 Phantom-legions all around. 
 Rise like vapors from the ground : 
 Earth and sea give up their dead. 
 All by common impulse led ; 
 All absorbed in common dread. 
 Swiftly from their coverts glancing. 
 Each, with furtive look, advancing, 
 Hides amid the ghastly throng. 
 
68 
 
 Gliding shadowless along. 
 
 Though so close together pressing, 
 
 Greet they with no word of blessing: 
 
 Sound of curse, or sound of prayer. 
 
 Wakens not the stagnant air. 
 
 Ho! Ho! Ho! 'Tis vain to call— 
 
 'Tis vain : the world is deaf and dumb ! 
 Back m}^ shouts affrighted fall 
 
 Upon my own ear, stunned and numb : 
 Rumbling as the voice appears. 
 When we speak with muffled ears : 
 
 Choking as the night-mare's scream. 
 Pent up in some horrid dream. 
 Oh 1 for the raven's croak, the wolf's fierce howl. 
 Or boding screech of melancholy owl, 
 To break this stillness! Music now to hear. 
 Were any human cry of grief or fear. 
 To break this awful stillness ! Hark ! that sound- 
 
69 
 
 Whence? Wlience? Diffused so faintly all around, 
 The balmy dew of some mellifluous strain, 
 Falls ou this sense athirst ! Again ! Again ! 
 The tender cadence swells and dies away; 
 And Silence listens for another lay! 
 
 * * -s:- * * * * 
 
 " I heard no more : one blinding flash 
 " Burned up the sky : deep darkness fell : 
 
 " Ruin rushed down with deafening crash ; 
 "And when I woke, it was in Hell!" 
 
XI. 
 
 " Dreams go by contraries," we say ; 
 Death boding wedlock; so they rise 
 From sleep pertuibed, to greet a day 
 Fit to be dawn in Paradise. 
 
 (71) 
 
72 
 
 Sweets scent tlie morn : voluptuous airs 
 With sighing kisses woo the sail; 
 
 And, glistening through the dew, appears 
 The sun, 'mid stars still glancing pale/^ 
 
 O'er coral reefs the surges lavey 
 Brimming the turgid, blue lagoon ; 
 
 And Oumaitia's palm-tops wave, 
 
 Humming their low, unvarying tune. 
 
 Tahiti's peaks confront the sky; 
 
 And low Tahara guides her prow, 
 Till in the shades of Matavai, 
 
 The weary vessel rests. 
 
 And now, 
 
 Track her no farther : let her ghde, 
 For Charon's sldff, on Stygian shore : 
 
 Oblivion o'er her rolls its tide, 
 As o'er this lay: 
 
 Of neither, ' more. 
 
FEOM PRIVATE JOUENAL. 
 
 ^Deej) in a far-off, desert hay, (p. 9.) 
 
 Orange bay, Tierra del Fuego ; so called by early Spanish, navigators, 
 because they mistook for active volcanoes, a mere phenomenon of refraction, 
 common enough in high latitudes. 
 
 ''Even the stormy Cape looks mild. (p. 14.) 
 
 Bright weather welcomed us to sea; and the sternness of Cape Horn 
 relaxed in the sunshine. 
 
 ■*/% castled clouds piled vast and high, (p. 18.) 
 Captain Fitzroy, R. N., calls them Cumuloni ; thej^ rise before a South- 
 west gale. 
 
 * Loud-snorting herds of fishy swine (p. 19.) 
 Porpoises : porcus-piscis 
 
 (73) 
 
74 
 
 ^O'er chfts ivhere janthine might he droivned. (p, 20.) 
 
 The Ianthina fragilis is a very delicate nautilus, secreting a purple 
 pigment, from which, it has sometimes been conjectured, the Tyrian dye 
 was derived ; but we found that it went immediately into putrefaction, and 
 could not be preserved, even in small quantities. The shell is kept afloat 
 hj air-bubbles, so like foam that passing sea-birds often fail to recognize 
 it for their prey. 
 
 ^ Which only freeze upon the ear: (p. 25.) 
 The air near icebergs loses resonance; and the voice sounds muffled. 
 
 ^By onutual plaint soothe mutual pain: (p. 33.) 
 
 During the long hours of extreme peril we passed aboard the Peacock, 
 as she shook her strong frame apart under our feet, this natural senti- 
 ment, familiar to those accustomed to danger, was strongly demonstrated. 
 Without explanations, or apologies, or any ceremony, persons long cold and 
 estranged, warmed into friendliness ; and those who had maintained kindly 
 relations before, grew fraternal. It is almost worth while to be reduced 
 to such a strait, to experience that glow of sensibility, combined even with 
 a certain cheerfulness, lightening the gloom of almost inevitable death. 
 
 (p. 34.) 
 
 The incident here related, is neither fictitious nor uncommon. An officer 
 we know of, lost his first child, born two months after its father's departure 
 
75 
 
 from home, and dead nearly two years before any letter announced its 
 existence : on a subsequent cruise, the same individual was similarly be- 
 reaved of an only daughter, unknown to him, though alive during the first 
 two-thirds of his period of exile ; and another oflQcer of this Exploring Expe- 
 dition, learned, at the Sandwich Islands, then approached only by way of 
 Cape Horn, or the Cape of Good Hope, that all his children were dead. 
 
 rg^, (p. 41.) 
 
 Our men's periods of enlistment for the Peacock, expired at Honolulu; 
 and, as sailors were a "happy-go-lucky" set, we tried to buy them back 
 " for a song :" this gave origin to 
 
 i i 
 
 ^xam tl^z xnxpopniar (ipjera of llj£ 
 
 Jijjefcjeii^a^/' 
 
76 
 
 ^"Let him go there himself, some day. (p. 42.) 
 ^^QvA mihi non credit, faciat licet ipse periclum" 
 
 We were backed by the wind and current, against an immense ice-floe, 
 tearing the rudder clean oiF; and then the ship drifted helplessly against an 
 island containing thirty-two square miles of solid ice, and about a hundred 
 and eighty feet high : this carried away the tafirail and bulwarks, into the 
 starboard gangway ; and so the Peacock was despoiled of her " tail." 
 
 "J% tent beside the Oregon,, (p. 44.) 
 
 These verses were adapted to two airs in minor, with which the Chinooks 
 invoked ghosts, every night. 
 
 ' ■' Tlie toppling overfall, (p. 44.) 
 
 Collision of tide and current in Oolumbia-river, threw up these overfalls 
 into columns apparently twelve feet high ; one of these struck a boat from 
 the Peacock, under the bow, and tossed it over, end for end, by the stern, 
 throwing all the crew into the river : they were saved by another boat ; and 
 the one capsized was picked up on the coast, about a month afterwards. 
 
 ' ' Thrice circled with the sea, (p. 45.) 
 She was wrecked on her third cruise of circumnavigation. 
 
 '*WJiere it had drooped before; (p. 45.) 
 
 The possession of Oregon-territory, was then disputed by England ; and 
 the right of our flag to fly. there, involved a question of war, happily adjusted 
 ])eacefully. 
 
77 
 
 ^^The " sciat alter 'fires each mind: (p. 48.) 
 "Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter.'' 
 
 Sailors call it "spinning yarns;" but we may translate the old phrase 
 
 thus : 
 
 For you to Jcnow is nothing, so 
 
 Nobody else hiotos that you know. 
 
 ^^ "I only hwiv that it is dead." (p. 54.) 
 This may refer to note 8, p. 34. 
 
 ^ "" Whose echoes never had been stirred 
 By breath of man, or song of bird. (p. 55.) 
 
 We rowed from the ship, round the base of Tahara, or One-Tree Hill, 
 and found it, at a nearer view, possessed of beauties not promised from our 
 anchorage. The west side was broken into terraces, from which palm-trees 
 overhung the water, with rustling boughs. Our boat floated over a garden 
 of coral, exceeding in luxuriance the richest flower-bed ; where buds and 
 blossoms, immature leaflets, and wide-spreading boughs, mingled their 
 infinite variety of colours and of shapes, and fishes more beautiful than 
 butterflies, wantoned from branch to branch. 
 
 ^ * Uprose the jaded orb again, (p. 57.) 
 
 January 21, 1840. The sun sets at lOh. 15m. p. m., bearing South, 
 30o East, magnetic. I often read a pocket-Bible, by broad daylight, 
 at midnight. 
 
78 
 
 ^^ Austral Aurora's glittering gleam (p. 57.) 
 
 February 7, 1840 : II. S. Ship Peacock. 
 
 The whole Southern hemisphere was illuminated by the Aurora Australis, 
 exhibited to us only on this occasion, in such wonderful development, and 
 impressing us with a kind of conviction that it never could have occurred 
 so before. Painting, or, if it had been daylight, even daguerreotyping it, 
 would have been impossible, because the panorama was in rapid , motion ; 
 but there was time enough, as it lasted no less than three minutes. As 
 for describing it, the more exaggerated the terms, the tamer would they 
 prove. A single figure not hyperbolical, may be indulged as a mere apology 
 for incompetency to treat the subject : the halo above us might have ema- 
 nated from the Divine presence. Yet, that a scene which must always be 
 vividly recalled by those who beheld it, may not be entirely unrepresented 
 to others in more comfortable circumstances at home, though deprived of 
 this glimpse of celestial glory, a mechanical sketch is presented, to be filled 
 up by the imagination ; but demonstrative terms must bow to sublimity so 
 far beyond the reach of art. 
 
 The Northern hemisphere, though cloudless, and, just a moment before, 
 glittering with stars, becomes suddenly darkened, by contrast ; and the 
 southern half of the sky sets the sea ablaze, every wave dashing diamonds 
 in spray. From the zenith, a semicircle of phosphorescence describes itself 
 towards the south ; and, down from this, growing more and more brilliant 
 as they diverge in approaching the horizon, streaks of intense prismatic 
 rays, whirl across one another, while the sky seems to whirl in the opposite 
 direction; thus combining red, blue and yellow, into violet, purple, green, 
 and intermediate tints, sometimes producing belts of perfect white ; and, 
 between these luminous meridians, zig-zag flashes of lightning play down 
 
79 
 
 into tlie sea; then darkness, as if we were suddenly struck stone-blind: 
 then sharp hail ; and finally, calm stars again. '* 
 
 '"All tlie starboard-tvatch f (p. 61.) 
 
 Night-watches at sea are thus mustered by the Boatswain ; and while 
 tlie starboard-watch is on deck, the port-watch turns in, to sleep. 
 
 ' ' The sun 'mid stars still glancing pale. (p. 72.) 
 
 It is not uncommon to see stars in the day-time. Sir John Herschel, at 
 the Cape of Good Hope, showed us the planet Venus, at noon, through his 
 grand telescope ; and, at Alexandria in Egypt, we often saw the morning- 
 star close against the sun, at 8 a. m. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 y RELATING THE 
 
 ANTAECTIC ADYENTUEES 
 
 IN 1839 : 
 
 BEING AN EXTRACT FROM THE AUTHOR'S PRIVATE NARRATIVE OF THE 
 EXPLORING EXPEDITION OF THAT PERIOD. 
 
 * * * * • * * This little vessel, a New York 
 
 pilot-boat of 97 tons, was introduced into the squadron, without any addi- 
 tion to the strength of her frame ; so that her security among the ice, was 
 to depend altogether on her good qualities as a sea-boat. After some 
 necessary repairs at Orange-Harbour, she put to sea, with a complement of 
 three officers and ten men, under the command of Lieutenant William M. 
 Walker, whose friends took leave of him, with the ominous congratulation 
 that she would, at least, make him "an honourable coffin." 
 
 We have already seen that the schooner, finding her boats endangered 
 by the sea, in trying to keep .near the Peacock, parted company on the 26th 
 of February. She lay to all that night, and part of the next day, with the 
 sea making a fair breach over her ; but, as the gale moderated, she hastened 
 to make sail, and, after a vain attempt to rejoin her consort, proceeded 
 towards their first rendezvous. 
 
 (83) 
 
84 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The weather continued misty, with hard squalls of wind and rain, till the 
 first of March, which was a mild and pleasant day. On the second, they 
 harpooned a cape-porpoise, whose liver supplied a dinner for the men, while 
 its oil replenished their lamp. At midnight, the wind freshened to a gale, 
 so variable in direction that it soon got up a cross sea, in which the little 
 vessel's condition was pitiable. It was impossible to stand on deck with- 
 out danger of being carried overboard; and below, everything was afloat. 
 Books, and clothes, and cabin-furniture, chased each other from side to side ; 
 while bulkheads creaked, and blocks thumped over-head, with a distracting 
 din. This storm lasted without intermission, for thirty-six hours, when the 
 wind and sea abated, and allowed them a little repose; but another hard 
 gale ensued, and then a dead calm, in which they were as much distressed 
 for want of wind, as they had ever been by excess of it. 
 
 The next (6th) was a delightful day. Birds swooped around the schooner, 
 and porpoises scampered away from her bow. In the morning, they were di- 
 verted from their course, by an appearance of land ; and, at midnight, they 
 reached the rendezvous, just in time to encounter a furious tempest. The 
 wind continued, for thirty hours, to blow in heavy squalls; the sea, mean- 
 while, rolling in mountains over the schooner, and crushing both her boats. 
 A dreadful night succeeded. One of the binnacles was torn from its fas- 
 tenings, and washed overboard: the helmsman and look-out were severely 
 bruised; and a sea, ripping up the companion-slide, tilled the cabin with 
 water. The very creatures of the brine seemed to know the vessel's help- 
 lessness; for a large whale came up from the deep, and rubbed his vast 
 
85 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 sides against lier; while the albatross flapped his wing in their faces, and 
 mocked them with his bright black eye. 
 
 During a slight intermission, on the ninth of March, they discovered a 
 leak in the bread-room, and shifted some of their stores. It was now 
 decided not to strain the vessel, and waste the season, by beating up to 
 any other rendezvous, but to be governed by the winds: so they stood 
 away for the south, followed by large flocks of terns, albatrosses and petrels, 
 with, here and there, a beautiful sheath-bill, so white that the snow seemed 
 to stain its plumage. 
 
 The next daj^ (10th) was spent at the pumps ; for the sea toppled over the 
 schooner, and threatened to engulf her. Every seam leaked; every stitch 
 of clothes was wet, and every bed inundated. The men had to swathe 
 their feet in blankets, lest they should freeze; and as the driving sleet 
 fell upon their garments, it congealed there, and incased them with ice. 
 When the gale abated, after a dark and dismal night, they found the 
 foresail split, and the jib, washed from its gaskets, hanging to the stay 
 by a single hank. 
 
 They had now made the second rendezvous, in lat. 64o S., long. 90° "W. ; 
 but, as there was no sign of the Peacock, Mr. Walker thought it his duty 
 to take advantage of a fair wind, and proceed on his course, alone. The 
 condition of the men forbade delays. Five out of a crew of ten, were 
 almost disabled by ulcerated hands and swollen limbs, while the rest suf- 
 fered from rheumatism and catarrh; yet they continued to perform their 
 duty with fortitude; and no exposure could draw a complaint from them. 
 
86 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 On a mild and sunny day (ISth), the second in that bright succession, 
 the theatre of their ambition opened to view. Two icebergs stood like 
 warders, at the gate of the Antarctic ; and, as the little vessel passed 
 between, huge columnar masses, white as the raiment that no fuller bleached, 
 shone like palaces. 
 
 "With, opal towers, and battlements adorned 
 Of living sapphire." 
 
 Soon, however, as if nature, incensed to be tracked by man to her last 
 inclement solitude, had let loose all her furies, the tempest drew a veil of 
 snow over the frozen city, and the vessel became the centre of a little area, 
 walled by piling seas. It is impossible to fancy the awful interest of such a 
 scene, without the pent-up feelings of the spectator, standing where human 
 foot never before intruded, an unwelcome guest in the very den of storms. 
 
 They waited some time at the next rendezvous, in hopes of obtaining 
 surgical aid from the Peacock, for three men who were quite disabled. 
 One of these had a fractured rib, to which their nautical ingenuity applied 
 a iooolding of canvas, and pitch, that did well. This delay lost them a 
 fair wind ; but the time was well employed in repairing the boats ; after 
 which, though they now despaired of .rejoining their cons&rtj Mr. Walker 
 proceeded to the fourth and last place assigned in his orders. The written 
 instructions were thus fulfilled : they had attained the longitude of 150° W. : 
 ice or discovery was to prescribe the bounds of their latitude ; and, with 
 feelings in whose enthusiasm past sufferings were forgotten, they turned 
 their faces toward the south. Icebergs soon accumulated fast ; and the 
 
87 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 sea was studded with fragments, detached from the larger islands. The 
 water was much discoloured during the day, and very luminous at night. 
 Penguins appeared in prodigious numbers ; and the air swarmed with birds. 
 Whales were numerous beyond the experience of the oldest sailor on board ; 
 lashing the sea with their gigantic flooks, and often, in mad career, passing 
 so close to the schooner as to excite apprehension for her safety. A fin-back 
 once kept them company for several hours ; and a monstrous right-whale, 
 of greater size than the vessel herself, lay so obstinately in her track, that 
 the men stood by with boat-hooks to bear him oif. 
 
 Every hour now increased the interest of their situation. A trackless 
 waste lay between them and all human sympathies ; and each step removed 
 them farther from society. On the nineteenth of March, they passed be- 
 tween two icebergs 830 feet high, and hove to near one of them, to fill their 
 water-casks. Encompassed by these icy walls, the schooner looked like 
 a skiflF, in the moat of some giant's castle ; and visions of old romance were 
 recalled, by the blue and purple lights that streamed through the pearly 
 fabrics. The very grandeur of the scene, however, made it joyless. The 
 voice had no resonance : words fell from the lip, and seemed to freeze before 
 they reached the ear; and, as the waves surged with a lazy undulation, 
 the caverns sent back a fitful roar, like moans from some deep dungeon. 
 The atmosphere was always hazy; and the alternation of mist and snow, 
 gave the sky a leaden complexion. When the sun appeared at all, it was 
 only near his meridian height ; and they called it "pleasant weather," if stars 
 peeped out but for a moment. 
 
Except when it blew with great violence, ice broke off the sea ; but their 
 nights were so pitchy dark, that the deck-officer kept his watch on the fore- 
 castle, and depended upon his ears to warn him of danger. Sometimes, 
 before they dreamed of it, the vessel was overhung by frozen cliflFs ; and, at 
 twilight one evening, the look-out shouted in a voice of alarm, to shift the 
 helm, when the next moment might have bilged her on a sunken mass. 
 As long as their thermometers lasted, the air remained pretty constant at 
 32o F., and the water at 29o ; and when these useful instruments were 
 broken, they slung some water in a tin pot, and resolved to keep on till it 
 froze. In a stiff" breeze, they found it safer to pass to leeward of icebergs ; 
 because the larger mass, driving before the wind, drew fragments along in 
 its train ; but, in light weather, the contrary was their practice ; for then the 
 smaller pieces drifted more rapidly with the sea. 
 
 On the twentieth of March, in lat. 69o 05' 45" S., long. 96o 2V 30" W., 
 many appearances indicated the vicinity of land. The ice became more 
 dense and black ; and much of it was streaked with dirt : the water, too, 
 was very turbid, and colder than usual ; though they got no bottom with 
 a hundred fathoms of line. When the mist cleared, they found them- 
 selves near a long wall of ice, in piles of irregular height, extending from 
 East by North, to South-west by South, with a pale yellowish blink, indi- 
 cating its presence far beyond. The vessel was now surrounded by thou- 
 sands of little islands, from which it became necessary to extricate her 
 without delay; but, as no visible outlet appeared, it was a difficult matter 
 to thread such a labyrinth. By noon, however, they succeeded in reaching 
 
89 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 a more open sea; and the weather cleared up sufficiently to give them 
 a view of several miles. They coasted along the barrier, till it began to 
 trend northward ; when, night setting in with a dense fog, they hauled by 
 the wind, and hove her to. In the midwatch, the schooner struck a 
 floating mass, without, however, sustaining any damage; and, during the 
 morning of the twenty-first, she ran along several huge stratified islands. 
 In the afternoon, the sea was clear as far as eye could reach; and their 
 hopes began to brighten at the thought, that they had passed the French 
 and Russian limits, and were on the heels of Cook. Every pulse now 
 beat high with emulation; and, as long as a glimpse of day remained, 
 they pressed towards the goal under every rag of sail. 
 
 Night set in with mist and rain ; and, by 9 P. M., it grew so pitchy dark, 
 that they were reluctantly obliged to heave to, with a fair wind froni 
 the north. At midnight it blew a gale, and they heard a hoarse rumbling 
 to the southward ; but nothing could yet be seen. Soon after, the fog sud- 
 denly lifted; and, in the brief interval before it shut down again, a faint 
 glimmer gave them a startling view. The vessel was beset with ice, whose 
 pale masses just came in sight through the dim haze, like tombs in some 
 vast cemetery ; and, as the hoar-frost covered the men with its sheet, they 
 looked like spectres fit for such a haunt. Morning found them in an 
 amphitheatre of sublime architecture. As the icebergs changed their places 
 like a shifting scene, the prospect beyond them seemed to reach the Pole. 
 Day came up this boundless plain. The eye ached for some limit to a 
 space which the mind could hardly grasp. Mountain against mountain 
 
90 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 blended with, a sky whose very whiteness was horrible. All things wore 
 the same chilling hue. The vessel looked like a mere snow-bank: every 
 rope was a long icicle : the masts hung down like stalactites from a dome 
 of mist ; and the sails flapped as white a wing as the spotless pigeon above 
 them. The stillness was oppressive; but when they spoke, their voices 
 had a hollow sound more painful than silence. 
 
 The schooner had become thus involved, by drifting, at an imperceptible 
 rate, within the barrier, while the passage behind her was gradually closed 
 by ice returning from the north. This ice was in large, oblong floes, 
 that floated broadside to the sea, thus lying in contact at their narrow- 
 est points, and inclined to revolve around whatever obstacle they encoun- 
 tered at either end. The schooner took advantage of this circumstance, to 
 insinuate herself into every accidental pass; and, when none occurred by 
 the motion of the ice, she had to force her way. This operation was cer- 
 tainly attended with great danger to the hull ; and the carpenter assured 
 the commander that the vessel could not endure it ; but there was no alter- 
 native, except to buft'et her through, or be carried to ' the south ; and by 
 9 A. M. (March 22d) they reached a place of comparative safety, in lat. 
 70o S., long. lOlo W. The remainder of the day was passed amidst innu- 
 merable icebergs, of whose proximity they could judge only by the noise 
 of breakers ; for it was blowing a stiff" gale, and the weather was generally 
 thick. Among the fantastic shapes of these immense structures, dimly seen 
 through the haze, there was one remarkable cavern with a hole above, 
 through which the sea spouted a column of water forty feet high. 
 
91 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 It was fortunate that the wind lulled towards night ; for no object could 
 now be discovered through the impenetrable gloom. A thick coat of ice 
 impeded the motion of the vessel ; and it was torture to handle the frozen 
 ropes. Under these circumstances, there was good reason to fear that the 
 rollers might set her against some of the neighbouring islands j but, before 
 midnight, this danger was abated by the lifting of the fog. 
 
 (March 23d.) The sun rose clear; but, before long, the mist gathered 
 again, and combined with a heavy fall of snow to obscure the forenoon. 
 Still the day had more bright intervals than usual,; and they employed 
 one of these in running to the southward, to examine an illusory appear- 
 ance of land. At midnight, the southern aurora illuminated the sky with 
 a bright orange glow, dappled with rays of blue, j^ellow and red, whose 
 sinuous lines flitted across one another, with such a rapid transition that 
 the eye could not define colours so variously blended. This appearance 
 lasted in full brilliancy, for about an hour ; and then flickered away in a 
 succession of radiant streaks, followed by a fall of snow. 
 
 On the twenty-fourth of March, the schooner was again obliged to force 
 a passage out of the ice, under circumstances truly appalling. The waves 
 began to be stilled by the large snow-flakes that fell unmelted on their 
 surface ; and, as the breeze died away into a murmur, a low crepitation, 
 like the clicking of a death-watch, announced that the sea was freezing. 
 Never did fond ear strain for the sigh of love, more anxiously than those 
 devoted men listened to each gasp of the wind, whose breath was now 
 
92 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 their life. The looks of the crew reproached their commander with having 
 doomed them to a lingering death; and many an eye wandered over the 
 helpless vessel, to estimate how long she might last for fuel. Preparations 
 were hastily made to sheathe the bow, with planks torn up from the cabin- 
 berths; but the congelation was too rapid to permit the sacrifice of time 
 to this precaution. All sail was accordingly crowded on the vessel; and, 
 after a hard struggle of four hours' duration, they had occasion to thank 
 heaven for another signal deliverance. 
 
 They had now attained the latitude of 70° 14' S., and established the 
 impossibility of penetrating further, between 90° and 105° of west longi- 
 tude. The season was exhausted: the sun already declined towards the 
 north : day dwindled to a few hours ; and nothing was to be expected 
 from moon or stars. Under these circumstances, Mr. Walker, after heartily 
 thanking the crew for their zealous co-operation, announced his resolution 
 to return. On the next afternoon, (March 25th), they descried a large sail, 
 and soon after exchanged three cheers with the Peacock. The vessels 
 stood northward together, for several days ; when the Flying-Fish was 
 ordered to return to Orange-Harbour, where Lieutenant Walker gave up 
 command, on the eleventh of April ensuing. 
 

 

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