Dusty Books, Frontier LibrarianR.T. Carr, Editor Chapter 4Travelers Danger... A 'plague' town... Fog, rough seas and the 'Horn'... Ships cat has litter... the Atlantic lets us go... Pacific Waters... Stop in Chile for more water and Citrus... Gold fever gets to us all... We sailed further south along the coastline. Encountering a reminder of the hazards of the tourist at that time. We came upon another similar bay town about a week later. We did not plan to stop, since we had had our recreational outing in Asuncion. What met us at the mouth of the bay was a skiff at anchor with a sign hastily rendered in what might have been Portuguese or possibly Spanish, with one English phrase slashed across in red 'Stay the Hell Away!' One of the crew read it all out for us in all three languages, as it turned out. 'Danger' 'Cholera' 'Everybody Sick' 'Stay the Hell away!' It was a sobering reminder of how wild maladies can sweep through a town and completely decimate the population. The source sometimes was the arriving vessel, or a local epidemic. We all said a silent prayer of hope for the victims and thanked providence for delivering us. But it did serve to make everyone more cautious about going ashore. A relatively short time later we entered into a foggy area, and then it snapped cold. We were sailing well out so we could hear waves breaking on rocks, which is of course the point to such activities when it is foggy. Avoiding unexpected rocks is a sound practice in a wooden boat. The fog lasted for almost a week down near the dreaded 'Horn'. In this situation a bigger craft might have had trouble, but in this instance our little packet fared well. I suppose it was good to err on the side of caution, since I think the captain should have had charts of all the rocks, channels, currents, and any navigational hazards. We had noticed a definite chill in the air. One morning it was clear as well, windy and very choppy. The boat started to go up and down repeatedly, as if we were traveling in a wagon going over the brow of many little hills. Once in a while a larger breaker, that even out where we were looked like an ocean wave crashing to shore, would course by us. Then it would seem a bit like we were going down a much larger hill. Then the rain started and I thought better of watching on deck. I heard much of the rest of this stormy time, rather than saw it. I was told that this was a condition brought about by the tremendous ice flows to the far south, the next continent being the polar ice cap at the bottom of the earth. It was purely by chance that it was rough or not, it being sometimes quite tranquil, at least that's the way it was explained to me. But as the salts on board put it 'We battened down the hatches and rode it out.' Below decks our condition soon moved from one of uneasiness, to queasiness, and then downright seasickness. I was personally glad I had not taunted Anderson during his struggles, since many of those who had were now in the throes of similar malady. It was also at this time that the ships cat decided to go into the throes of having her litter, being cared for all the while by loving hands and a prime vetrenarian (sic) who only incidentally cared for the human amongst us. Both patient and doctor, as well as many impromptu 'nurses', lived. Her labor did take some time. We were in calm seas heading towards Chile when she had her 8 kittens, as mixed a bag as I've ever seen. Four of each gender; one a Calico, 2 white ones, 2 absolutely jet black, 2 a mottled brown and one scrawny gray creature no one expected to live the night, but did, and was probably the tougher for it. The brood supped continuously for quite some time, until the mother would lose patience and move away for a while. She was as good an animal mother as I've seen and took care of her brood well for the rest of the trip. It took some time to get around 'Horn', but finally we did and were in calm "Pacific" waters, in more than one sense. It was much warmer and though the bodies of water had water in common, there seemed to be no misnomer in the term 'Pacific' to describe this ocean we now sailed upon. It was as if the tendrils of the Atlantic had been attempting to hold us at the 'Horn', unwilling to give us up. We had finally broke through, all of us thinking almost to a man that we truly were going to the gold fields. We could smell it and taste it and it was our vocation to think about it. Even Anderson expressed an idle curiousity (sic) about Gold fever, more than a passing interest, but in my opinion he was thinking of what good works could be accomplished with that commodity in abundance. It was not surprising, since these thoughts were as contagious, if not more so, than the epidemic from which we had been saved. I felt a restlessness throughout the entire ships company, both sailors and passengers. We were only to stop once until we reached California, uneventful in another small harbor in Chile. We only stopped long enough to take on water and more citrus. The water was a bit less in quality than the previous store, and the oranges were sweeter to make up for it I suppose. The Gold fever had passed to us all.
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