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Joshua Slocum - Sailing Alone Around The World
CHAPTER XII
Seventy-two days without a port - Whales and birds - A peep into the Spray's galley - Flying-fish
for breakfast - A welcome at Apia - A visit from Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson - At Vailima - Samoan
hospitality - Arrested for fast riding - An amusing merry-go-round - Teachers and pupils of Papauta
College - At the mercy of sea-nymphs.
To be alone forty-three days would seem a long time, but in reality, even here, winged moments flew
lightly by, and instead of my hauling in for Nukahiva, which I could have made as well as not, I kept on
for Samoa, where I wished to make my next landing. This occupied twenty-nine days more, making
seventy-two days in all. I was not distressed in any way during that time. There was no end of
companionship; the very coral reefs kept me company, or gave me no time to feel lonely, which is the
same thing, and there were many of them now in my course to Samoa.
First among the incidents of the voyage from Juan Fernandez to Samoa (which were not many) was a
narrow escape from collision with a great whale that was absent-mindedly plowing the ocean at night
while I was below. The noise from his startled snort and the commotion he made in the sea, as he turned
to clear my vessel, brought me on deck in time to catch a wetting from the water he threw up with his
flukes. The monster was apparently frightened. He headed quickly for the east; I kept on going west.
Soon another whale passed, evidently a companion, following in its wake. I saw no more on this part of
the voyage, nor did I wish to.
Hungry sharks came about the vessel often when she neared islands or coral reefs. I own to a satisfaction
in shooting them as one would a tiger. Sharks, after all, are the tigers of the sea. Nothing is more dreadful
to the mind of a sailor, I think, than a possible encounter with a hungry shark.
A number of birds were always about; occasionally one poised on the mast to look the Spray
over, wondering, perhaps, at her odd wings, for she now wore her Fuego mainsail, which, like Joseph's
coat, was made of many pieces. Ships are less common on the Southern seas than formerly. I saw not one
in the many days crossing the Pacific.
My diet on these long passages usually consisted of potatoes and salt cod and biscuits, which I made two
or three times a week. I had always plenty of coffee, tea, sugar, and flour. I carried usually a good supply
of potatoes, but before reaching Samoa I had a mishap which left me destitute of this highly prized
sailors' luxury. Through meeting at Juan Fernandez the Yankee Portuguese named Manuel Carroza, who
nearly traded me out of my boots, I ran out of potatoes in mid-ocean, and was wretched thereafter. I
prided myself on being something of a trader; but this Portuguese from the Azores by way of New
Bedford, who gave me new potatoes for the older ones I had got from the Colombia, a bushel or
more of the best, left me no ground for boasting. He wanted mine, he said, "for changee the seed." When
I got to sea I found that his tubers were rank and unedible, and full of fine yellow streaks of repulsive
appearance. I tied the sack up and returned to the few left of my old stock, thinking that maybe when I
got right hungry the island potatoes would improve in flavor. Three weeks later I opened the bag again,
and out flew millions of winged insects! Manuel's potatoes had all turned to moths. I tied them up
quickly and threw all into the sea.
Manuel had a large crop of potatoes on hand, and as a hint to whalemen, who are always eager to buy
vegetables, he wished me to report whales off the island of Juan Fernandez, which I have already done,
and big ones at that, but they were a long way off.
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