Authors: Jeffry S.Hepple
“
What is it between you and William?”
“
What is it?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s a monster and I can’t say that I like him – but he’s still my son.”
Whipple took a deep breath. “Would you do somethin’ for me, Marina?”
“
If it involves sex, no. Otherwise I might consider it.”
Whipple chuckled. “I’d like it if you would stay here ‘till Christmas when yer boys get their new orders.”
“
Why?”
“
Do I need a reason?” he asked, raising his voice. “You ain’t got no pressin’ business in Mexico, do ya?”
Marina shrugged. “Okay, Josiah. Don’t get all lathered up. I’ll stay until Christmas, if you do.”
October 8, 1848
Galveston, Texas
J
ack, Robert, Clementine and Marina were seated in the living room of Marina’s suite. Jack, who had just read the telegram from the War Department, tossed the ticker paste-up onto the coffee table. “We have, once again, been ordered to San Francisco. It seems that there’s huge migration taking place to search for gold in California. We’re to hold an election of officers here and then leave them to defend the port of Galveston against ‘gold rushers’, whatever they might be, and proceed to California.”
“
Why now?” Marina asked. “The gold discovery was months ago.”
“
Apparently the news has only recently reached the East Coast,” Jack replied, “and the gold fever is larger and more violent than expected.”
“
When are we to report in San Francisco?” Robert asked.
Jack chuckled. “The first of November.”
Robert sighed. “Well, thirteen months gives us several choices of routes. The Santa Fe Trail’s been improved recently and regular steamer service to Panama may start soon. And then there’s always the U.S. Mail Steam Ship route.”
Jack chuckled again. “No, Robert. Not next November; this November. Next month. We have less than a month, not thirteen months.”
“
What?” Robert raised his hands over his head. “Don’t they have maps in Washington? How do they expect us to get from here to San Francisco in less than a month’s time?”
Marina picked up the message. “It must be a telegrapher mistake.”
“
Mistake or not,” Robert said, “we must send a return wire stating that it will take a minimum of nine months to get from Galveston to San Francisco by sea.”
“
How long would it take by land?” Clementine asked.
“
It depends upon the weather,” Robert replied. “Six months to a year.”
“
It’s too late in the year to try it overland,” Marina said. “The passes will be snowed in. I made that trek in winter once. It was nearly fatal.”
“
The fastest route this time of year is by ship to the Isthmus of Panama, then by land across the Isthmus to the Pacific, and another ship from there to San Francisco,” Jack said.
Robert shook his head. “No good. That’s the U.S. Mail Steam Ship Company’s route. All the gold seekers will be boarding anything that floats and following that route.”
“
Why do we care?” Jack asked.
“
Obtaining passage from the Pacific side of Panama will be impossible,” Robert replied. “What we need are guaranteed first cabin accommodations from here to San Francisco on a good ship owned by a reputable company who won’t sell our berths to a higher bidder.”
Jack nodded agreement. “You’re right. But I know of no Pacific-bound ships scheduled until next year.”
“
There’s a Clipper in the Bay,” Clementine said. “I saw it today.”
“
The
Rio Clipper; s
he’s bound for Rio de Janeiro,” Robert replied. “I was speaking with her captain in the gentlemen’s saloon earlier.”
“
The new Steamship
California
left New York yesterday.” Marina picked up the newspaper that she had been reading. “She’s expected to reach Rio de Janeiro in twenty-eight to thirty days. If we take that Clipper out there, we can be in Rio before the
California
arrives and be in San Francisco by February.”
“
We?” Jack grinned. “I thought you’d had too much of us.”
Marina smiled. “I’ll tolerate you three in exchange for the experience of sailing around Cape Horn and seeing California.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you had enough adventure for one lifetime, Mother?”
“
Isn’t that Cape Horn passage real, real dangerous?” Clementine asked before Marina could reply.
Jack nodded. “The Straits of Magellan are the most dangerous waters in the world.”
“
We’re no longer talking about tiny ships and sail power,” Marina argued. She folded back the paper and began to read. “The
California
measures two hundred feet in length, thirty-four feet beam, and twenty feet depth of hold. And her engine, built in the best manner by Messieurs Stillman Allen and Company, is rated at two-hundred-fifty horse power, but can easily be worked up to three hundred horse power.”
“
We still have to convince the War Department that this country is bigger than they think, regardless of our means of transportation,” Robert said. “Otherwise we’ll be arrested and shot for desertion when we at last arrive.”
“
You go do that,” Jack said, “and I’ll go book us on the Clipper for Rio de Janeiro and on the
California
from Rio to San Francisco.”
“
Book me a stateroom,” Marina said.
“
Yes, Mother,” Jack replied with a chuckle.
Robert looked at Marina. “What about Josiah?”
She shrugged. “If he gets back before we sail, he can come too. In steerage. Unless you want to share a stateroom with him.”
“
He won’t get back and you know it,” Jack said.
“
I don’t know it but I’ll write him a note.” She shooed him with her hand. “Go. Book our passage.”
“
Yes, Mother.” He started for the door.
“
Check the schedule first,” Marina warned. “We have to be there no later than the fifth of November.”
“
Yes, Mother.”
November 12, 1848
Guanabara Bay, Rio de Janeiro
A
fter leaving Galveston on October 10
th
, the
Rio Clipper
had made good speed to the tip of the Yucatan Peninsula where the wind had fallen off to dead calm for nearly two full weeks. The ship’s arrival in Rio was now ten days late. Marina pointed across the bow. “The
California’s
still here.” Her voice conveyed her relief. “She hasn’t sailed without us.”
One the British Naval officers, who had come aboard with the pilot, overheard Marina and crossed the deck to join her party. “The
California’s
captain, Captain Forbes, has taken sick, Madam.” He touched his cap.
“
How serious is his illness?” Jack asked.
“
He’s been advised by the Fleet Surgeon to rest ashore for two more weeks.” The young officer pointed. “He’s recuperating there at a villa in Catete.”
“
How long did it take
California
to reach here from New York?” Marina asked.
“
Just twenty-six days,” the officer replied. “A new record.”
“
Thank you,” Marina said with a nod.
The young man gave her a salute and returned to join his colleagues.
“
Two weeks?” Robert grumbled. “Here?” He waved his hand in disgust. “I’d almost rather be becalmed at sea for another two weeks than anchored in some steamy, smelly port.”
“
Two weeks is far better than the months we’d have to wait for the next steamer,” Jack replied. He turned to Clementine, who was completely enraptured by the view of Rio. “Did you hear any of that?” He touched her arm.
“
What?” She looked up at him. “Oh. Yes. The steamer’s still here and we won’t be sailin’ for two weeks.”
“
Sailing,” Jack whispered.
Clementine nodded. “Sailing.”
“
I think two weeks here might be fun,” Marina said.
“
Fun?” Robert laughed and punched his brother on the arm. “Did you hear that? Our mother is actually anticipating having fun.”
Jack rubbed his arm in mock pain. “Will wonders never cease?”
Marina glared at them. “When you were children, didn’t we have fun – sometimes?”
“
Yes,” Jack said. “We sometimes had fun – with Dad – in spite of you.”
“
You really were never much fun, Mother,” Robert agreed.
Marina’s scowl faded and with a sigh, she peered back toward Sugarloaf. “No, I suppose I wasn’t much fun.”
Jack and Robert exchanged a glance of surprise.
“
Look.” Clementine pointed toward the beach. “That woman is showin’ her titties. I mean – she’s bare-breasted.” She pointed to a second woman. “So is that one.”
Robert gawked. “You’re right, Clementine. Bare as can be – and bold as you please. Two weeks here may not be that bad after all.”
December 7, 1848
Straits of Magellan
I
t was twenty minutes after high noon, but nearly as dark as midnight. The deck of
SS California
was pitching so badly that Jack had to hold on to a stanchion to stay on his feet. “So you’ve not made this passage before, Captain?” he shouted to be heard over the gale-force west wind.
“
Nay,” Captain Cleveland Forbes replied. Forbes had asked Jack and Robert to join him in the wheelhouse as additional lookouts for their passage through the dangerous waters. “That usually wouldn’t matter but the charts have proved to be poor, and the iron in all these cliffs makes the compass unreliable.”
Jack was peering through the fog and spray at the towering dark masses of rock that surrounded them. “We don’t seem to be making any headway.”
“
We’re not,” Forbes agreed. “Might even be going a bit backwards. The wind and tidal surge are both against us, but I dare not use any more power for fear that a paddle wheel might cavitate when we’re struck by one of the more severe gusts. Some of these troughs are very wide and very deep. This would be a bad place to throw a piston rod.”
“
Will we have enough fuel to reach Panama after all this?” Jack asked.
“
Nay.” Forbes shook his head. “If this lasts much longer we’ll be in trouble.”
Jack flinched as a wave broke over the bow and smashed against the window glass. “Could we use the anchor to hold us against this surge?”
“
Too deep here,” Forbes said.
Robert had been examining a chart by lantern light. “If this is correct, that pinnacle marks the entrance of Jerome Channel,” he shouted over the howling wind. “There’s supposed to be an anchorage within the rocks called York Roads. It won’t give us any protection from the wind, but the tide should be negated somewhat and, according to this, it’s shallow enough to drop anchor.”
“
How shallow?” Forbes shouted back.
“
Four to five fathoms.”
“
That’s too shallow in this sea. We’d drag anchor.”
Robert shrugged. “That’s as good as it gets.”
“
Where, exactly?” Forbes asked after a moment’s reflection.
“
The channel leads northeast so I should think that’s it.” Robert pointed.
“
Helm, two points starboard,” Forbes called.
“
Helm, aye. Two points starboard,” was the helmsman’s answer.
The course adjustment put the bow off the wind enough that the big streamer began to make some headway. Forbes joined Robert at the chart board. “Where does this Jerome Channel lead?”
“
It connects with two large inland basins called Otway and Skyring Water.” Robert pointed to the place on the chart. “But once we’re in there, there’s no way out, other than reversing our course, so it’s not a valid alternative route.”