storms which raged at all
seasons round Cape Horn, and destroyed so many ships. One of them had
recently read to his messmates the history of Lord Anson's unfortunate
voyage: they were therefore not quite free from apprehension on
approaching this dangerous point, and were agreeably surprised at
passing it so quietly. In their joy they hit on the proud, poetical
idea, that the very elements themselves respected the Russian flag. This
bold imagination took such possession of their minds, that, in the
elevation of their spirits, they resolved to represent it in a
pantomime, to which I willingly assented, as my own cheerfulness greatly
depended on theirs. Accordingly, a throne was erected on the capstan,
adorned with coloured flags and streamers, which we were to take for the
extreme point of Cape Horn, upon which, shrouded in red drapery, with
all becoming dignity and seriousness of aspect, sat the hitherto unknown
God Horn, (begotten and born of the sailors' fancy,) the tremendous
ruler of the winds and waves in this tempestuous ocean. In his strong
right hand he held a large three-pronged oven fork, and in his left a
telescope, with which he surveyed the watery expanse seeking for a
sacrifice. A grey beard smeared with tar, hung down to his knees, and,
probably as a symbol of his marine dominion, instead of a crown, his
head was decorated by a leathern pail. Before him lay a large open book,
and a pen was stuck behind his ear, to write down the names of the ships
which sailed by. The exact purpose of this I could not understand, but
the effect was equally good. Upon the lower step of the throne stood two
full-cheeked sailors, very much painted, holding bellows, to represent
the Winds ready to produce a raging whirlwind at the nod of their ruler.
The God seemed in a very ill humour, till at the appearance of a
three-masted ship, made of some planks nailed together, his visage
suddenly cleared. The crew of the vessel, which was in full sail,
pointed to the Cape, and appeared to rejoice in the expectation of
doubling it safely. Then did the God Horn give the ominous nod, and the
bellows began to work. The ship took in her sails with all possible
expedition, but was nevertheless terribly tossed about. The crew, in
danger of perishing, offered their supplications to the God, who at
length relenting, commanded the winds to subside, and suffered the
vessel to pass on in safety. Soon after another vessel appeared bearing
our fl