Two hundred years ago today, after seventy-two days at sea that were anything but pleasant, Maximilian zu Wied-Neuwied thought he might finally set foot on the continent of South America.
As an almost imperceptible wind had arisen around 11:00, our ship’s progress was barely noticeable, even with the help of all the sails. We decided to use this time of forced inactivity to make our first acquaintance with the soil of Brazil by exploring one of the rocky islands.
The prince, the captain, a few sailors, and two other paying passengers climbed into the boat and set out.
The sailors rowed ahead, but without noticing that our boat was taking on a great deal of water: it had been secured at the back of the ship, and had dried out severely in the heat of the sun. When we’d been working our way through the high swells for half an hour, we found ourselves obliged to bale the water that had seeped in; but we had nothing to do it with, so we had no choice but to take off our shoes and use them.
It got worse. When the boat finally reached the island they’d chosen, the little party discovered that its shores were steep and rugged, covered with an impenetrable tangle of roots and branches.
The enormous surf, crashing into white foam, raged so violent that we had to be respectfully content with admiring the beautiful vegetation of the island from a distance, finding pleasure in the song of the birds that showered down on us…. Great numbers of gulls, white with black backs, stood in pairs atop the cliffs…. we shot at them over and over, without securing a single one.
After an hour or so, the boat turned around to rejoin the ship.
But it was no longer to be seen. Now our situation was troubling. The entrance to the Rio harbor is dominated by ocean currents that cause ships to drift away from their course without the crew’s noticing, and more than a few have been wrecked that way. Our sailors pulled hard against the high swell, without knowing what direction our ship was in.
Finally they saw the masts of the Janus in the distance, and all spent that night aboard, in eager anticipation of their first visit ashore — the next morning, July 17, 1815.
