This is one historic tale, from the greatest Portuguese book (poem) ever written, almost 500 years ago: Os Lusíadas. At the time, Portuguese explorers had gone by sea where no one had gone before. But there was one particular spot on the planet that instilled fear in those brave navigators: going around the Cape of Good Hope, in southern Africa.
And thus the spooky figure of Adamastor came to life: adapted from the Greek word for “untameable”, living in the deep sea, it was a mythological symbol of the natural challenges that those navigators faced!
Today, we know ahead about hurricanes, just like the one last week. Several centuries ago, these same forces of nature were beyond imagination. And Adamastor would spook those fearless mariners like no other, for at least a couple of centuries:
"O you, the boldest of the nations, fir’d
By daring pride, by lust of fame inspir’d,
Who, scornful of the bow’rs of sweet repose,
Through these my waves advance your fearless prows,
Regardless of the length’ning wat’ry way,
And all the storms that own my sov’reign sway,
Who, mid surrounding rocks and shelves explore
Where never hero brav’d my rage before;
Ye sons of Lusus, who with eyes profane
Have view’d the secrets of my awful reign,
Have pass’d the bounds which jealous Nature drew
To veil her secret shrine from mortal view;
Hear from my lips what direful woes attend,
And, bursting soon, shall o’er your race descend.
"With every bounding keel that dares my rage,
Eternal war my rocks and storms shall wage
The next proud fleet that through my drear domain,
With daring search shall hoist the streaming vane,
That gallant navy, by my whirlwinds toss’d,
And raging seas, shall perish on my coast:
Then he, who first my secret reign descried,
A naked corpse, wide floating o’er the tide,
Shall drive—— Unless my heart’s full raptures fail,
O Lusus! oft shalt thou thy children wail;
Each year thy shipwreck’d sons shalt thou deplore,
Each year thy sheeted masts shall strew my shore.
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