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Vice Admiral ( R ) Jorge Sepúlveda SCHOONER “CONDOR”, 1945 VOYAGE AROUND CAPE HORN
Her officers on board were Roblin as Chief Officer, Enrique Wichmann as Second Mate, a young man keen on yachting for which reason he managed to learn in a short period of time the basic knowledge of sail maneuvering, and Zenón Ojeda as radio officer. Following a long stay of almost 5 months, the owners managed, at long last, to procure a full shipment consisting of 2.600 tons of Chilean rice to be shipped to Piraeus (Greece). Prior to loading the cargo, the ship entered the floating dock in Valparaíso where she underwent careening and caulking.
Later, she bent the best set of sails and renewed the running rigging to leave her in the best state possible to encounter the hard fight that means to navigate Cape Horn, the “Old Cape Stiff” as old sailors used to call it. As Master Bennewitz relates: Once the rice had been loaded, on first December 1945 the ship set sail and keeping an offing sailed close-hauled “full and by” the fresh breeze from the SSW blowing at that moment, with full sails to the wind. From the beginning of the voyage I realized that the vessel was slow; yet, her sails equilibrium was good, so she could satisfactorily steer making little water. During the first four days, the wind blew settled from the SSW to the SW so we crossed at about 160 miles north of Juan Fernández Islands as a result of which we lost the way; but soon after the wind began to veer aft, hence making it easier to gradually bound further south. On the tenth day and having reached the sailing route at Talcahuano latitude, we encountered the first north, thus allowing us a good fall off. Soon we reached the “Roaring Forties” and the hard struggle of furl, sheet home, take in reefs, heave at sheets, preventing sheets, etc. began. And the vessel, due to the hard work in those swelled seas, started to make water, not to be too concerned … yet. The weather was bearable up to the eighteenth day, when a strong gale reached us from the fourth quadrant, - while it lasted, we sailed with the main sails with all its reef line and the ……fore staysail at about 10 knots seeking for the Cape. By dawn on the nineteenth, the gale had become violent but the “Condor” was behaving well with free port side wind: “wind aft is half port” as the saying goes. Approximately at 09:00 hrs on the nineteenth, the wind became calm and started to rain in torrents while the barometer stopped dropping: a very near change was evident. Soon enough, once the rain had come to an end, the typical cumulus nimbus was visible covering the whole horizon towards the SW, and, in spite of having everybody on deck, it advanced at such a speed that there was not enough time to do anything, just only to brail up the mizzen mast. The squall of the cold front then hit with hurricane wind and the sails burst one after the other with a strong bang, thus leaving us under bare poles at the mercy of the wind and the sea. The situation became critical: the huge sea risen by the SW wind and crashing with the persisting mountainous sea from the NW originated, at intervals, pyramidal waves, violently beating on the hull, making it shake completely and damaging the bulwark almost to the point of destruction. We were experiencing oil pouring from the washbasin drainage and by means of the … An astronomic situation that we could get by sun highs observed in the bright spells between showers, showed us that we were at 360 miles W of Cape Pilar, a zone that according to the “Pilot Charts” is the most stormy in the world, justifying the saying “Cape Horn has the fame, but that of Nuestra Señora del Pilar is even greater”. In the meantime I noticed that the deck’s board rows by windward and towards the centre of the vessel were showing a deep distortion. Later, it was evident that 6 tweendeck beams (and what sort of beams!! their section was 14 by 18 inches) had collapsed. Something had to be done, and fast: I ordered to bend and put into use a new canvas lay fore staysail 00 that we had as spare one. The operation was carried out by pilot Roblin, the boatswain Arsenio Avila and 2 sailors, who, furnished with lanyard at the waist, fastened themselves onto the gaff-sail boom of that sail to prevent being dragged away by the waves that were sweeping the forecastle, and they successfully accomplished the dangerous task in a short period of time. We then waited for a lull between squalls and luckily there was one, and so we availed ourselves of the occasion to slack away leaving the sea by the starboard quarter. In this way the waves did not beat upon so strongly as the vessel was leaving them behind, at the time of being in our right course as well. A new danger was threatening us now: the tremendous flexion efforts being sustained by the vessel as it was alternatively reached by the hollows and combs of the waves; this fact was soon evident, as we could see the transverse fractures on deck and that the stem head and part of the forecastle bulwarks were detaching from the hull, remaining raised up to 3 inches, clear evidence that the hogging of this had increased in equal way. The fact is that the gap in the forecastle was allowing water to run freely into the crew’s accommodations, becoming a little sea that due to the to-and-fro motion and pitching began to wet their beds and clothes, thus increasing their despair as they had nothing dry to wear after spending too many hours in the open air in a cold climate, under rain and hails, exposed to the sea water that left them soaking and that despite the lifelines on deck, sometimes they were knocked down, undergoing injuries and bruises. But this situation was not to last too long, for as soon as it became possible, strips of canvas were nailed to cover the gap. Meanwhile, the bilge sounding was increasing, although the pump’s motor was working at the maximum of its revolutions reaching 32 inches, meaning that the water had overcome the bottom of the hold and started to wet the cargo. The weather was discharging its force in violent heavy showers until it subsided, keeping a soft wind for some days, thus allowing us to proceed with urgent tasks like replacing the lost sails; unfortunately at the time we only had a few in good order as the rest were part of the trades set, much too worn out, with patches and mending. We could also change over the damaged spars and caulk the fractures on deck. Tasks galore, the worst being to pump out when the motor of the pump failed. The crew was exhausted, they had no dry clothes to change into and had to remain wet due to the sea water and the frequent rain, besides, their sleeping hours were scarce. During this difficult situation, the benzedrine sulphate was very useful, a powerful stimulant, that, provided in convenient dose and only in specific circumstances, could keep the men wide awake and lively. They were also revived with the generously provided hot grog as well as with the abundant and tasty food portions, as we had a good cook. In spite of the calm weather, huge ground sea waves forced the vessel to yaw, making it difficult to maintain the course. During this period we remained with all our rig in full sail to move forward as much as possible. As the wind was not blowing strong enough to fill the sails and provide support, the ends oscillated furiously from side to side – guys were not used in these vessels – causing the loss of one of these spars as well as a gaff-sail boom; likewise, some of the sails tore apart when flapping and broke many of the strong springs used to damp the flapping of the gaff-sail boom. As far as I know, nobody ever moaned about the weather, the vessel nor the command. Besides, the pilots always set the example by working on a par with the sailors and being the first to volunteer for the hard and risky tasks and, I must add, that the Master was always prompt to give a hand to his people whenever the case deserved it. On December 27 the fresh SW settled, allowing us to drop further and on the next day by midnight, we could at long last turn the Cape Horn. Following the analysis of the serious situation we were facing, I decided to proceed with a forced landfall in Port Stanley, capital of the Falkland Islands and on December 29 I convened an Officers meeting to inform them of my decision, aimed at counting on manpower to diminish the water ways, repair the port bulwark, manufacture spare parts for the pump’s motor, to have a few peaceful days so that the sailors would spend their time to exclusively repair the sails and check the rigging prior to continue the voyage to Piraeus. My decision was accepted unanimously, the corresponding minutes of the meeting were written up, a declaration of General Average was drawn up and the course was plotted to Port Stanley. By midnight December 31st with an exceptionally good weather, we caught sight of On the next day we navigated along the east coast of East Falkland with WSW moderate breeze, direction of which would have prevented us from reaching the port that is located at the end of a long and narrow inlet, precisely positioned in said direction, and we would not have towing service because the small boat of the colony was not available. But we trusted that we could do it later on, once the N winds of an approaching depression would reach us according to the progress constituted by mare’s tails and cirrus for which we would wait, staying hove to at the mouth of the entrance. At around noon, with gentle breeze, we arrived at 1 mile from Pembroke point that marks the S entrance to the inlet and at the foot of the lighthouse, a large group of people had gathered to observe us. We then stayed becalmed and soon after a baffling wind arose from the N we were covered with fog. To avoid being pushed against the coast by the current that was leading NW, we took the outside turn. Later, near midnight, the refreshing wind turned to NE and the atmosphere became clear to the point that we could see the lighthouse at the W, some 5 miles distant. Immediately, we proceeded to take the entrance, but had a rainfall and had to wait for a lull; as it was evident that soon enough we were to experience a change to the SW, we charged the gaff and the outer jibs and took two reef bands to the gaffs, remaining on the watch. At around 03:00 hrs on January 2 it had already brightened and we could see the characteristic cumulus nimbus arcus of the possibly occluded front that went behind the island height, and that, with its crown of cirrus nothus, plus its lightning and beams artillery as the thunders boomed, was quickly approaching us. In view of the alarming look of the sky, I ordered to brail up, but it was too late, no sooner we had managed to do it with one gaff, the wind fell over us like a dash taking all the sails that were in full, including the last brailed up that had not been completely furled yet. This wind has been one of the worst I have ever experienced in my life, its force was such that dragged us along or knocked us down if we were not catching hold of something fixed. For the second time in this voyage we were left under bare poles; the vessel, going across the wind went a sotavento, quickly making leeway and soon, no longer under the lee of the island, a very rough sea punished her hardly rising the level of the water at the bottom in such a way that it reached 38 inches in a few hours. The situation had turned critical indeed, with the gaffs destroyed we could only rely on the outer jibs and gaffs, reason why we had to bend these in replacement of the main sails leaving the sails reduced to half of the original canvas. Together with pilot Roblin we studied the situation and we concluded that having such little amount of sails, it was going to be impossible to gain windward against the prevailing strong winds from the W in the zone to return to Port Stanley; as neither, and for the same reason, to try to call at Comodoro Rivadavia or Bahía Blanca, leaving us only with the alternatives of Mar del Plata or Montevideo. We decided to call at Montevideo, in the hope to find better recourses there; on the other hand, it was essential for us to leave those stormy waters the sooner the better, and reach latitudes where the elements are less hostile. We had a meeting with the officers that also counted with the attendance of the bosun, and they all agreed with the proposal. We then placed the decision on record in the corresponding minutes of the meeting. In the course to Montevideo we encountered winds of variable and calm directions and intensities. We did not have to bear further storms. In fact we may consider ourselves lucky because we did not come across any of those terrible strong winds that may reach hurricane force. The motor of the pump could control the water inlet keeping the sounding at around 18 inches, except in short stops when the pumping out had to be done manually, as the level used to quickly rise. If the pump had gone out of service, undoubtedly the vessel would have sunk. The schooner “Condor” called at Montevideo on 28 January 1946 after having navigated 58 days.
Course taken by the Schooner ‘Condor’ In fact, the last merchant sail ships to cross Cape Horn were the three masts Chilean frigate “Calbuco” at the end of 1942, the five masts Chilean schooner “Condor” on 28 December 1945, then the “Passat” on 9 July 1949 and the last one was the “Pamir” on 11 July same year, loaded with grain and crossing from Australia to Europe. Valparaiso, October, 2007 References |
