“The ship went clear over on her side”
Of course the ship went clear over on her side then, and the squall broke on us in earnest right after. Everybody grasped whatever he could lay his hands on to keep from sliding down the deck. There was no sea running to speak of, and the chances of saving the ship were fairprovided the squall soon passed over; but as the thought of Ike Summers having caused all this came over me, I was in such a fury that if he’d been near by then, I could have pitched him overboard, and not been sorry.
I won’t speak of what we all felt as we clung there on different parts of the ship,—it had all been so sudden, but before anything could be done to right her, the main mast broke off underneath the deck, ripping her all open amidships. The water poured in at an awful rate, and all hands knew the ship was doomed.
“The boats! Cut the lashings before she founders!” I yelled.
Myself and two or three more sprang up on the forward house, where three of the life-boats were made fast, and as we whipped out our knives I happened to look aft and saw the captain and steward on the poop trying to get the gig free before the ship went down. Miss Marion and her mother were holding to the spanker boom, both bearing up nobly in this awful crisis. I knew they would be safe in thegig along with the captain, which was a great load off my mind.
“How shall we get water and stores for the boats?” someone cried.
How, indeed? It was impossible.
We had just got one boat free when the ship gave a plunge, and we felt her going. Everyone was tugging at the boats; a few were yelling and screaming; and then all hands were in the water. I had hardly come to the surface when I felt a terrible blow on the head, and dimly realized that a piece of wreckage had struck me. There was a gurgling sound in my ears,—that was the last thing I recollect.
I was lying on my back with my eyes open looking up at the sky. The new moon was shining, and a large bright star twinkled not far away. I vaguely felt that one of my hands was in the water, and knew that my limbs were being chafed by some person. A kind of dreamy stupor was on me, and though these ideas passed slowly through my brain, they seemed tomake no impression, and I didn’t even wonder where I was, or how I came there. Some one spoke to me.
“Mr. Morgan, try and brace up a bit. You know Simms, the carpenter—”
The voice sounded strange and unnatural.
“Yes, I know Simms, the carpenter,” I muttered; but the words meant no more to me than does some senseless phrase to the parrot that mechanically repeats it.
“Them’s the first words you’ve spoke, sir. Now let me pour a little whiskey down your throat.”
The whiskey must have done me good, for I began to get my senses back after a while and became conscious of a terrible throbbing in my head. Putting my hand to my forehead where the pain was, my fingers came in contact with blood. That brought me round more than anything else, and I shut my eyes and tried hard to remember where I was.
“Mr. Morgan, it won’t do to give up like this. We can’t be over sixty milesfrom the coast, and right in the track of the coal fleet at that.”
The voice sounded familiar now, and I knew it was the carpenter speaking.
“How did we come here, and where are the rest? Where is the ship?” I asked, still a good deal bewildered.
There was a groan and a short pause before the answer came.
“No mortal man will ever set eyes on theSt. Lawrenceagain, Mr. Morgan, nor on any of her crew but you and me.”
It took me some minutes to realize those awful words.
“But Captain Fairley and his family—they escaped?”
“All gone, sir; all but us two.”
“How were we saved?” I asked, as soon as my mind had grasped the fact that out of two dozen lives, ours alone had been spared.
“Everything was sucked down in the vortex—boats and all. I held my breath till I nearly burst before I came to the surface, and there you was close beside me. You was just going down again, Ijudged, when I grabbed you. A good ways off was Jim Parsons, but not another soul was to be seen. Two capstan bars floated near by, but I struck out for this big piece of the poop-deck that we’re on now, which was half a ship’s length off. It must have been wrenched loose when she went down. I made shift to get on it after a hard fight, for I daren’t leave go of you for fear you’d sink. You was so limp I allowed you must be dead, and your head was bloody besides. Then I looked for Jim, but the poor fellow was nowhere to be seen.”
I owed my life to the carpenter, that was certain.
“Don’t thank me any more,” said the brave fellow. “You’d have done as much for me.”
“How long have we been here?” I said. “Is this the first night after the accident?”
“Yes, sir; this time yesterday the ship was at Nanaimo.”
It seemed incredible. A mere squall had wrecked that fine ship—a blow not one twentieth part as strong as she hadweathered hundreds of times before—and all on account of a shifted cargo.
“Is there any water to drink?” I knew very well there couldn’t be, yet I asked the question.
“No, Mr. Morgan. I happened to have this flask and an apple in my pocket, which is all we’ve got. If we were in mid-ocean now, our logs would soon be wrote up, but I make no doubt we’ll be picked up in a day or so at the most. There’s no sea on, so our chance is good.”
We didn’t talk much for a long time, but just before daylight the carpenter, who had been standing up, said: “Don’t be excited, sir, but there’s a vessel bearing down.”
“Where away? Point her out!” I struggled up, though it made my head swim.
None but a sailor would have recognized a vessel in that dark blotch away in the north. My heart thumped pretty loud when I sighted it, and realized that the craft was coming our way. We prayedfor daylight,—or I did, anyway,—and it was the first prayer I’d said for years.
Well, the sun came up, and there was a large Englishman not four miles off. She couldn’t help seeing us, but we never stopped waving the carpenter’s coat—I had none—till they signalled us. No need to tell how we got picked up, or how glad we were to have a ship’s deck under our feet again. She proved to be theScottish Glens, bound from Tacoma to Hamburg, and all hands were mightily interested in our story, several having seen theSt. Lawrencesail the morning before.
There we were not a hundred miles from shore, but of course the captain wouldn’t put back, so there was nothing for it but to start on an eighteen-thousand-mile voyage. We worked our passage, and an awful one it was as far as length goes.
While entering the harbor of Hamburg, one hundred and ninety days later, a small boat came alongside with mail for the officers and crew. There was a large assortment of letters and papers bearingpostmarks from all parts of the world; but the carpenter and I got nothing, nor did we expect anything, for our relatives must have long since given us up. One of the officers handed me a late copy of the Marine Register, and in the department of Disasters I found this item, which sounded like my obituary:
MISSING.St. Lawrence (ship), Fairley, which sailed from Puget Sound April 7 for San Francisco, has never been heard of since, and is supposed to have foundered with all hands. Posted at Lloyd’s as missing.
MISSING.
St. Lawrence (ship), Fairley, which sailed from Puget Sound April 7 for San Francisco, has never been heard of since, and is supposed to have foundered with all hands. Posted at Lloyd’s as missing.
A Dangerous CargoThe south-east trades of the Pacific usually carry the north bound vessel well across the Line. But they had been failing gradually for some days; and now the long, low steel hull of the British shipLochlevenhad almost ceased to move, although she was yet a good two degrees south of the equator. It was very provoking; the more so that she had made very fast time thus far, and Captain Stafford had entertained hopes of making an unusually quick passage. But these hopes were slowly vanishing.
The remarkable feature of a calm in the equatorial latitudes of the Pacific is the interesting appearance of the water, which literally teems with various formsof animal life. It is clear and limpid as crystal, and, viewed from theLochleven’sdeck, an endless procession of strange creatures slowly floated by with the current. Two shapeless blotches of film appeared, whose only sign of life was a great red eye at one end. They seemed to have less than the consistency of jelly, and represented one of the lowest forms of animal life. Next was a curious jointed creature of a deep orange tint, coiled up like a snake. Then a fragile nautilus was borne along, with the delicate pink shell projecting above the surface like a sail,—“Portuguese man-of-war” seamen call it,—while a bunch of long tentacles hung down beneath. Just over the stern were two active little fish the size of a brook trout, whose bodies were blue, with wide brown stripes. The pair swam side by side, occasionally darting away capriciously, only to return in a moment. How harmless and innocent they looked! And yet their presence was a certain indication that a shark lurked beneath the ship. One or two of these pilot-fish always accompany a shark to find his prey and lead him to it, for their ugly protector is lazy and nearsighted, and would fare badly without them. Close to the ship’s side amagnificent dolphin floated motionless in the translucent water; the beauty of his steel-blue and pale lemon tints being enhanced by the clear element until the splendid creature seemed too glorious to be real. So quiet was the ocean, so still the fish, that one might easily imagine it only the image of a dolphin reflected in a vast mirror.
Several hundred miles to the eastward of where theLochlevenlay becalmed were the Galapagos Islands, where thousands of turtles assemble, lay their eggs in the sand, and then float away with the current; sleeping on the water most of the time. A dozen were now in view at various distances from the ship, besides a big one that had just been captured, and was crawling awkwardly about the deck. Its great discolored shell, dead-looking eyes, and beak massive enough to sever a man’s wrist, gave little indication of the rich steaks and agreeable soup into which the cook promised to convert it on the morrow.
Howard, the captain’s seven year old son, considered the turtle a new kind of steed, and bestrode its broad back in great glee. The bare-footed youngster was brown as a berry, and carried a toy sailor which had been christened Lord Nelson.The fact that his lordship was minus an arm only increased the affection with which he had been regarded for two years past, when he supplanted a golden haired doll, which Howard soon after consigned to a watery grave.
Captain Stafford had been standing by the main hatch, watching the turtle, and seeing to it that his reckless son did not get a finger bitten off, when he became sensible of a faint, almost imperceptible odor. It was so vague as to be almost intangible—probably not half a dozen on board would have noticed it even had they stood where the captain did then. At first he tried to think it might be only imagination, and this view of the matter was strengthened when he walked to another part of the deck not far off and detected no odor whatever. He returned to his former position and sniffed the air as a hound does when scenting danger. Again that slight smell of gas.
Captain Stafford knew what sort of a cargo was stowed under his feet, and from that moment he thought no more of the turtle. Walking to the carpenter-shop, he beckoned to its occupant. “Carpenter, get the main hatch off at once.”
Cardiff coal is extraordinarily liable tospontaneous combustion, and not a few of the many ships that carry it from Cardiff and Swansea all over the world catch fire. Often the danger is discovered in time to be checked, but one of the peculiarities of this cargo is, that it may burn for days and even weeks in the center of the mass without giving the least sign, only to break forth at last in uncontrollable fury. TheLochlevencarried 4,000 tons of this commodity, consigned to San Francisco.
The carpenter brought out his tools and began removing the hatch-cover, while such of the crew as were aloft “tarring down” the rigging wondered what this unusual proceeding meant. The moment the aperture was laid open the nostrils of those who looked down were saluted by a smell like that of a sulphur match that has been lighted and then immediately extinguished. It was not overpowering, and the captain was the first man to descend the ladder. The carpenter followed with an iron testing-rod, and then the mate, with several of his watch. The latter were equipped with spades. Placing his hand upon the coal, the captain found it slightly warm on the surface, and the crew commenced digging according to his directions. Then the carpenter inserted thetesting-rod, which was withdrawn presently, and showed that no fire existed thereabout, although the coals were badly heated.
“Now, carpenter, take off the other hatches, and use the tester in the other parts of the ship. And you, Mr. Maitland, get the rest of your watch down from aloft. Let them bring below every spade on board, and dig trenches wherever the coal is heated.”
The captain’s lungs were not strong and he was seized with a fit of coughing, brought on by inhaling gas. This compelled him to go on deck for a time, and he saw Mrs. Stafford approaching.
“What is wrong, Edward, and why are the hatches being opened? You look troubled.”
“Nothing serious, I hope. The cargo is badly heated, but we find no fire as yet.”
Mrs. Stafford glanced at her husband interrogatively, as if to divine whether he concealed anything. She was a woman of commanding presence, and though hardly thirty-five, her abundant hair was perfectly white.
“There is no smoke,” she said, looking down into the hold.
Even as she spoke the carpenter removed the third hatch, and instantly a thin, yellowish vapor ascended into the air. “That’s a bad sign,” said McKenzie, the third mate, aside to the carpenter, who was preparing to descend. But he drew back, holding his nose, and before it was possible to go down a wet sponge had to be bound over his mouth and nostrils. Those who accompanied him took the same precaution.
It was nearly noon, and time to take sights. Still no wind, and the rudder-chains creaked and rattled as though to remind everyone that a calm prevailed.
While Captain Stafford waited for the sun to reach the zenith, the carpenter approached, with a serious face.
“There looks to be a fire, sir, in hatch No. 3. The further down the men dig the hotter the coal gets, and the smoke is so much thicker we can hardly keep at work. All hands are digging trenches, but I’m afraid, sir, that opening the hatches is making it worse.”
“Begin now and pump water into the trenches. We will see what effect that has. I shall be there as soon as possible.”
He hardly dared to think what would become of the ship in case it should proveimpossible to subdue the fire. She was a fine new vessel, having been built on the Clyde only two years before. Should a fair wind spring up and the fire continue to burn inwardly, there might be some hope of making Callao or Panama, and thus saving the ship; but here they were in a dead calm, at a place where a steady wind of any sort was practically out of the question.
All the afternoon water was pumped into the hold, being led over the coal by means of the trenches, and when pumping ceased early in the evening it appeared to have done much good. The coal in the main hatch was cooled off, and the smoke had disappeared from the one next to it. But the morning would prove whether the fire was to be subdued or not, and the crew were ordered to bring up their mattresses and sleep on deck. Then all the hatches were tightly battened down in order to exclude air from the hold, and supper was served two hours later than usual. But no one in the cabin except Howard was able to do justice to the turtle-steak, the others hardly knowing what was before them. Anxiety and suspense destroy appetite, and not until morning arrived would it be known whether or not the fire hadthe ship at its mercy. If the coal was merely heated and not actually burning, the water pumped on it would probably suffice to avert combustion. The fact of the vapor having vanished was of little importance—the exterior of a volcano may be treacherously fair and peaceful at the very moment the interior is a mass of molten fire.
Howard turned in at the usual time. He vaguely understood that something was wrong, and wondered why all were so grave. But the boy saw neither fire nor smoke, and his childish mind had not yet grasped the peril which threatened the ship. Clad in his white nightgown, he knelt at his mother’s knee; and, burying his face in her lap, said the evening prayer she had taught. He repeated the words more slowly than usual, and after reaching “Amen” continued earnestly, “God, don’t let us be burned up, and please let us catch another turtle to-morrow.” Then he ran into his little room next to that of his parents, and bounded into bed in a way that made the slats rattle.
Ten minutes later, when Mrs. Stafford stole in on tip-toe, the child was sleeping peacefully; the bed-clothes were all kicked off, and the cherished figure of LordNelson—without which he never went to sleep—had just fallen from one little hand. There he lay in the sweet forgetfulness of childhood, while his mother stood beside him thinking of the many nights he had slept in that little bed; in storm and calm, in heat and cold, in the Atlantic, in the Pacific, in the Indian Ocean. How many more nights would he sleep there? She softly imprinted a kiss on the tanned forehead, and left the room with moist eyes. Ascending to the quarter-deck, she lay down in a hammock underneath the awning.
Captain Stafford and William Wells, the second mate, were standing by the rail discussing the chances of saving the ship, and speaking of other vessels that had caught fire under similar conditions. One, a large British ship, called theKenilworth, had been abandoned after being burned entirely out inside. She was afterwards picked up, towed into San Francisco, and sold at auction. An American firm was the purchaser; she was rebuilt, and is sailing the seas to-day under the stars and stripes. Another, less fortunate, was entirely consumed in the South Pacific, her officers and crew escaping to the island of Juan Fernandez.
The two men thought Mrs. Stafford was asleep, but she heard every word, and the relation of these disasters depressed her spirits exceedingly. She struggled with this feeling, for she was not a woman to despair easily, and at length succeeded in forgetting everything in a deep, dreamless sleep.
Dawn put an end to suspense. Through two of the closed hatches a thin cloud of smoke was filtering, proof conclusive that fire had been slowly consuming the cargo for days and days past. Now it was eating its way to the surface The hatches were opened, but dense clouds of hot, suffocating yellow smoke belched forth, driving all back. It was overpowering, and they were covered up again as fast as possible. It was useless to pump more water into the hold, for the removal of the hatches, by creating a draft, would simply fan the fire. Nothing but a miracle could now save the ship.
Orders were given for the crew to bring all the stores and provisions up from below,—all their bedding, sea-chests, and whatever else there was in the fore peak. The smell of gas down there was intolerable, and besides, it was necessary to keep every hatch closed in order to smother thefire as much as possible. When everything had been brought up, the cover was put on and secured, and the seams caulked with oakum.
One of the apprentices did not realize until it was too late, that the crew must live entirely on deck from that time forth; evidently supposing it would be possible to go below again after an interval. When he discovered his mistake the boy asked to be allowed to fetch his sea-chest, but the hatch was secured permanently, and his request had to be refused. He was the only son of a widowed mother, who had fitted him out finely on this, his first voyage, and tears filled his eyes when he thought of all the things she had made for him with so much care.
The calm continued—there was no sign of the longed for wind. Several men were kept aloft all day to scan the horizon for a sail, even the captain ascending the rigging; but not a solitary object was in sight.
The endless procession of yesterday floated by with horrible monotony. The red-eyed blotches of film, the jelly-fish, the orange-colored snakes, the large turtles asleep on the water or paddling slowly about,—it was precisely the same. Theprevious day the water and its strange inhabitants had possessed a fascinating interest to many of those on the ship; now this same scene of tranquil beauty had become an aggravation. As Mrs. Stafford’s anxious eyes fell on these curious sluggish creatures contentedly floating with the current, she wondered absently whether they derived any pleasure from such a passive and aimless existence. The two pilot-fish still swam by the counter; the invisible shark still lurked beneath the ship; the dolphin alone, was gone.
It was the Sabbath,—usually a day of perfect rest on theLochleven, for Captain Stafford was a man of strong religious convictions. Every soul on board, from Mrs. Stafford and Howard down to the apprentices, was required to be present at the Sunday morning services. In pleasant weather these exercises were conducted on the main deck, where all hands were accustomed to assemble at six bells (11 o’clock), but to-day was an exception, for the crew was hard at work.
Every deep-water ship, before she reaches port after a long voyage, is thoroughly cleaned and painted from stern to stern. This is a job requiring at least a couple of weeks. TheLochlevenhadexpected to reach San Francisco within a month, and ship-cleaning was nearly completed at the time the fire was discovered. The iron yards and lower masts were freshly painted, the wooden top-masts and top-gallant masts had been scraped, sand-papered and oiled, the rigging tarred down, the life-boats and deck-houses cleaned and painted, and the decks holystoned and oiled up to the top notch.
Now each man in the crew was working as only desperate men can, to heave overboard every inflammable article about the ship. Buckets of tar and paint; cans of benzine and linseed oil; spare spars and planks; empty barrels; old sails; oakum and sennit;—all covered the placid surface of the ocean.
Howard was very silent all the morning. He knew now something very serious had happened, and his surprise was great at sight of so many useful articles being made way with. More than once had he been punished for thus disposing of belaying pins, brooms, swabs and marline-spikes. He trotted around near the mate, who was an especial favorite of his, and followed the example of the others by throwing into the sea such light articles as were suited to his strength. But whensix bells struck and the work still continued, he ran to find his father. Never before could he remember a Sabbath when services were not in progress at that hour.
“I thought this was Sunday, papa?”
“So it is, Howard.”
“Then why don’t we have church? Have you preached all the sermons you know?”
“It is not that, my boy.”
“And shan’t we have duff for dessert, either?”
“I suppose we shall; we usually do on Sunday and Wednesday. The reason services are not held to-day is because there is much work that cannot be delayed. The Lord helps those who help themselves, and instead of stopping to pray for deliverance we must first do everything in our power to lessen the danger.”
The boy thought a moment, and then ran off to inform his mother. “Mama won’t believe it; she’ll think I’m fooling her!” he called out to his father.
During the afternoon the boats were watered and provisioned, and made ready for launching, though Captain Stafford was determined not to abandon the ship until the last extremity. It is appallingto think of leaving a large vessel in mid-ocean for a few frail cockle-shells, and the master of theLochlevenentertained a desperate hope that some sort of a breeze might soon spring up that would at least carry the doomed ship nearer the Galapagos Islands,—the only land within a radius of a thousand miles of the spot where the vessel lay. A few white wind clouds could be seen on the south-western horizon, but they rose very slowly.
The fire was evidently gaining very rapidly, for when Mrs. Stafford went below towards evening she noticed a strong sulphurous smell pervading the cabin and sleeping rooms. The captain had not reckoned on this so soon, and took the precaution to bring his sextant, chronometers, the ship’s papers and some of the charts on deck, where all hands made arrangements to pass the night; the crew being in the extreme forward part of the long vessel, the officers amidships, and the captain’s family on the quarter-deck. This in itself was no especial hardship, for the weather was warm, though not excessively so.
Magnificent beyond all description was the sunset. The sky reflected every possible tint—indigo, light blue, pink,magenta, light and dark green, yellow, orange, gray and other hues—all blended and shaded so harmoniously that it was impossible to tell where one began and another left off. In the midst of the indigo blue hung the moon, a crescent of burnished silver.
As midnight approached, great banks of purple clouds massed themselves in the heavens, while forked and sheet lightning shot across the lurid sky. A dozen hands were aloft furling the skysails and royals.
“Only a squall, Mary,” Captain Stafford said, in answer to his wife’s question, “but there is wind behind it, though perhaps not much.”
In the early morning hours the first great drops pattered heavily on the awning, and a puff of wind was perceptible soon after. Mr. Wells had the deck, and the men joyfully sprang to the braces to trim the yards in accordance with his orders. By the time this was accomplished the tropical rain descended in perfect torrents,—blinding sheets,—and the ship was well heeled over, running before a heavy squall with nearly squared yards. The rain hissed into the foaming ocean, the lightning flashed, and for four hours theLochlevenseemed literally to fly, as iftrying to escape the demon of destruction within. The awning was new and shed the torrents of water well, though the heaviness of the deluge threatened to split it.
The squall passed over slowly, having helped the ship along nearly fifty miles towards the islands. Then the rain ceased and the wind nearly so, leaving only a two-knot zephyr. Even this was better than a calm, but soon after sunrise it increased to a steady breeze which held all that day.
The captain and Mrs. Stafford undertook to go below and bring up some of their clothes and other possessions, but were rendered nearly insensible before they had crossed the cabin. Up through the floor came volumes of poisonous gas, rendering the atmosphere so stifling that both hastened back and stumbled up the companion-way to the purer air. The books, trinkets and souvenirs that Mrs. Stafford had picked up all over the world,—many of which were rendered dear by their associations, rather than by their intrinsic value,—all these things she prized so highly were utterly lost. The captain had private charts belonging to himselfthat could scarcely be replaced. It was impossible to get at them.
All the scuppers were plugged up and water pumped on the main deck until it fairly swam, There was nothing else to be done but to scan the horizon and hope that the crisis might not come until the wind had carried them nearer the islands, which were yet a good three hundred miles to the eastward.
Another squall from the southwest towards evening increased their speed, though everyone was in constant fear lest the wind should fail entirely when it passed over. Captain Stafford resolved to take to the boats the moment it fell calm, for it was already perilous to remain on the ship. They were literally living over a volcano, and nothing but the desire to get as near land as possible induced him to stick to the vessel so long.
Occasional heavy puffs of smoke and sparks came from two of the hatches towards morning, and all hands were on the qui vive, momentarily expecting the order to get the boats over. The wind grew lighter, and as it failed the poisonous vapors nearly choked those on board.
The man at the wheel struck eight bells—it was 4A.M.Never again wouldthose spokes be clasped by human hands, or that bell be heard to ring. From away forward floated the answering sound of the bell on the foremast.
Then came the order “Abandon ship!”
The ocean was calm, and three of the boats were launched without difficulty; Captain Stafford, Mr. Maitland and Mr. Wells each taking charge of one. There was no time to take a last look, no time for anything but to hurry away from the ship, before the accumulation of gas in the hold should burst the decks open or blow the hatches off.
TheLochleven’ssails were flapping softly in obedience to the gentle swell. Her four tall masts with their great spread of canvas, and imposing three hundred feet of dark hull, lent a deceptive appearance of security and majestic strength. She had not been deserted any too soon, for just as the stars were fading in the east before the swift tropical dawn, the expected rending of her decks took place. Clouds of smoke and sheets of flame leaped up, the canvas and rigging caught, and in an incredibly short space of time, the great vessel was blazing fiercely.
The Burning Ship
The blowing up of the decks released the imprisoned flames, which roared and crackled; writhing up the ropes and shrouds to the very mast heads, as though eager for more material to devour.
Those in the boats watched the awful spectacle with fascinated eyes. The heat became unbearable, burning brands fell into the ocean, and a little breeze springing up, they took advantage of it to get under way. Fanned by the rising wind, that four thousand tons of burning coal lighted up the ocean for miles and miles around, while the boats seemed to be floating on a sea of blood. To their awe-struck occupants, it seemed that the great beacon must be visible from the Galapagos Islands,—the haven which they were destined to reach three days later.
Suddenly a cry came from Howard. In the hurry and excitement of departure, Lord Nelson had been left behind! He begged his father to put back—implored his mother, with choking sobs, to let him save his cherished companion. They tried to comfort him, but in vain. In speechless grief the boy held out his arms towards the burning ship, gradually melting into the horizon line; and if Howard Stafford lives to be four score, he will never shed more bitter or scalding tears than fell from his eyes at that moment.
“Abe hurled the duff at the astounded minister”
The Parson’s TextHer Majesty’s shipCrocodilewas anchored in Plymouth Roads one fine Sunday morning, and a couple of seamen had obtained shore leave for the afternoon.
Bill and Abraham (called Abe for short) were jolly good fellows of more than average intelligence, and they determined to enjoy their day to the utmost. To this end they had refused to join the mess at dinner, in order that their appetites might be the keener for the viands at the Royal George, to whose hospitable doors they directed their steps upon landing. Both were rigged out in their best togs, and took their seats at a table with thepleasant consciousness that their personal appearance was just about at high water mark.
“Heave us one o’ them programmes, Sally,” said Bill. “A mighty trim lass you are, if I does tell you so.”
“Me name is Lucy, your honor,” replied the buxom waitress with a smirk, as she placed a bill-of-fare before the twain.
“Married?” asked Bill.
“No, sir. I’ve not yet met me fate,” answered Lucy, demurely.
“Crackey! You must be stage-struck.”
“’Vast there, Bill, and quit your foolin’,” interrupted Abe. “I’m ’ungry. Wot will we ’ave?”
He was considerably older than his companion, and had reached that stage in life when not even the charms of a pretty waitress could make him lose sight of the fact that it was past the time for dinner.
It seemed to Abe that their orders would never arrive, so he spent the time in devouring a bottle of little round pickles which occupied the center of the table. Bill kept trying to attract the attention of a golden haired fairy who was opening numerous bottles of ale in another part of the room, and only desisted when Abe remarked: “Seems to me these ’ere pickles are awful salty.”
“Them ain’t pickles, you bloke; them’s holives,” said Bill, grinning.
“Wot’s that but another name for—”
Abe’s answer was cut short by the long-expected appearance of Lucy, and both men were soon doing full justice to the dinner, which included beefsteak and onions, fried sole with anchovy sauce, and a pot of stout; besides half a dozen minor dishes, all of which they relished as only men can who have lived for some time on ship’s stores.
At last Bill said: “Well, Abe, ain’t you most done? I’m full to the hatches.”
“Oh, sir, your honors ’asn’t ’ad the sweets yet,” expostulated Lucy. “We’ve got some lovely tarts, and a duff, and—”
“Duff! Bring us a whole one, quick!” cried Abe.
“We’ve eat too much,” said Bill. “I never thought of the duff, or I wouldn’t have eaten all this other truck. We’ll never be able to finish a whole one.”
“Yes we will, too,” Abe maintained; so the dainty was placed before them, and they fell to with a will. But both soon found that their eyes were larger than their stomachs, and though Abe ate more than his companion, even he had to stopbefore more than a third of the duff had been dispatched.
“It’s too bad we ’ave to leave it,” he said regretfully.
An alarming idea suddenly struck Bill. “Suppose we ain’t got money enough to pay for all these things we’ve ’ad,” he whispered fearfully. They asked for their reckoning, and alas! Bill’s surmise proved correct.
“If we ’adn’t hordered a whole duff, we’d ’ad money left,” said Abe, “and now wot’s to be done? We ain’t eat a quarter of it.”
Lucy thought of the shilling that Bill had recklessly slipped into her hand unknown to Abe. After a moment’s consideration, she said confidentially, “I’ll leave out the price of the duff, for it’s mostly all left, and very few calls for a whole one. Nobody’ll be the wiser if I brings ’em a piece of this.”
A load was removed from the minds of the sailors, both of whom thanked the fair Lucy fervently, and if Bill had had any money left she would have gotten it. Their table was in a corner near the entrance, and as they rose to go a commotion in the rear of the room attracted Lucy’s attention. Bill was already at thedoor and Abe about to follow, when the tempting duff again caught his eye. He wavered a minute. “I’ll be blowed if I leaves it,” he muttered, as he unbuttoned his loose blouse.
All hands seemed to be gathering in the back of the large room, and after a stealthy glance to be sure that he was unobserved, Abe seized the remainder of the duff and placed it in his bosom. Then he buttoned up his blouse, drew his loose jacket together as much as possible, and boldly walked out of the door with head well in the air.
Bill was a little uneasy at first upon hearing what his companion had done, though he agreed that the duff would be delicious eating a few hours later. Finally he was rather glad of Abe’s action, and only hoped that Lucy would not get into a scrape on account of it.
They walked along for some time, until they came to a church. Many people were entering, and the sound of the organ announced that services were about to begin.
“Let’s go in, Abe,” said Bill. “We looks decent, I guess, and I ain’t been in a bloomin’ meetin’-house since Mag. Halton’s weddin’, when I was a youngster.”
“All right. We’ll cast anchor in this ’ere church for a while. We’ll be safer, too, for I’m kind afeerd of the hofficers of the law nabbing us if we stays on the street.”
They passed through the vestibule and into the church; when an usher took them in tow, and the pair were given seats in the extreme forward part of the edifice—in the second row of pews. Everything seemed strange to Abe and Bill in that dim half-light, and their eyes had scarcely become accustomed to the change from out doors when the grand music of the organ again pealed forth, and the services began with a hymn from the surpliced choir.
The novelty of the scene wore off after half an hour or so, and the exercises began to seem a trifle tiresome.
“There ain’t nothin’ to’t but singin’ and then gettin’ down on your knees, and then jumpin’ up and singin’ again,” whispered Abe. “Awful poor singin’ I calls it, too. I’d like to give ’em a good chorus now—somethin’ like ‘W’isky is the Life of Man’—just to show ’em wot real singin’ is.”
“I can’t say as I admires the parson much, neither,” answered Bill. “He looksalmighty severe, he does. I’d hate to sign articles with a craft he was skipper of; he’d hang two or three to the fore yard-arm every morning, just for the fun of the thing.”
“I’m agreed on that, Bill. But look—the old boy’s goin’ up them steps.”
The minister entered the pulpit; the sermon was about to begin.
The members of the congregation settled back in their seats with looks of expectant interest (or resignation) as the reverend gentleman gave a preparatory cough. After adjusting his spectacles and calmly surveying his flock, he announced: “Brethren, my discourse this afternoon will be from the text, ‘Abraham, Abraham, what is in thy bosom?’”
The two sailors convulsively grasped the pew cushions as they exchanged glances of consternation.
“Good G—, Bill!” whispered Abe, “the parson knows I stole that duff!”
Bill sat as though petrified, and the silence in the house of worship was such that you could have heard a pin drop.
After giving the congregation a few seconds to digest his words, the pastor brushed a troublesome fly from his nose,and repeated more slowly and impressively, “Abraham, Abraham, what is in thy bosom?”
This was too much for Abe, who jumped to his feet exclaiming: “You know I’ve got it, parson, so, d— you, take it!”
Suiting the action to the word, he hurled the duff at the astounded minister, and followed by Bill, fled incontinently from the church.
Rounding Cape HornThe full-rigged American shipSagamorewas now sixty-seven days out from New York bound for San Francisco, and on this September evening in one of the closing years of the nineteenth century, she was flying along in the South Atlantic under a stiff top-gallant breeze, at a rate that no steamer in that part of the world could eclipse, if, indeed, any could equal. With the wind a trifle abaft the beam, yards well off the backstays, and showers of spray whirling over the weather bulwarks to leeward, the stately ship swept on—an animated picture of whose majesty and grace no one may conceive who hasnot seen a large square-rigged vessel driving through the water at full speed.
To the right, scarce fifty miles away, stretched the bleak and inhospitable coast of Patagonia; to the left, equally distant, lay the rugged and desolate Falkland Islands; behind, growing every instant more remote, were civilization and government; while ahead lay an almost boundless waste of storm-swept waters frowned upon by grim Cape Horn itself—firm ruler of a region which for three centuries has tried the patience of mariners, and tested the endurance of the stoutest ships that man can build.
The usual preparation for rounding the Horn had been made. The old patched-up sails had been taken down, and strong new ones bent in their places—for a ship, unlike a person, wears her best suit of clothes in foul weather;—lanyards and standing rigging had been renewed and strengthened; preventer braces attached to the principal yards; and life–lines stretched all over the main deck.
It was the second dog-watch from 6 to 8P.M.—and a grand but stormy-looking sunset had given place to the long twilight that prevails in these high latitudes. A solitary star of great size blazedin the zenith, while on the northern horizon, resembling an immense open fan, there was a fine display of the Aurora Borealis, which appeared to rise out of the sea and was becoming more beautiful as the twilight deepened.
Up on the poop-deck, clad in warm ulsters, the two passengers were taking their evening constitutional, occasionally pausing to make some comment on the myriads of Cape pigeons whirling about the ship, or to watch a lordly albatross swoop down from above and dive beneath the waters—seldom failing to seize the hapless fish that his unerring eye had spied from afar. Both were young fellows of perhaps twenty-five, who in this long voyage had sought rest; the one from college studies too closely pursued, and the other from the countless worries and nervous tension of American business life.
Will Hartley and Frank Wilbur had never met until the day before leaving New York, and as both were of rather reserved dispositions, their relations at first were those of acquaintances rather than friends. But all that was now changed, for gradually they began to thoroughly like each other; and by this time were nearly inseparable. Several months’ dailyintercourse between two young men shut up in a ship together is a severe test of companionship, but in the present case it had resulted most happily.
Hartley broke a short silence by saying; “To think that ten weeks have passed since I saw a newspaper! All sorts of events have happened on shore that no one here dreams of.”
“What do we care?” answered Wilbur, with a laugh. “We are in a world of our own, and as for me, I don’t bother about what is going on in the United States. It seems as if I had always lived on this ship, and my whole past life appears a vague dream. What I would like to know is, whether theArabiaandIroquoisare ahead of us or not. It will be too bad if they beat us to San Francisco.”
“No danger of that if we keep up this rate of speed. George! but we’re traveling. Let’s take a look at the log.”
Captain Meade, a fine-looking man of fifty, joined the passengers, remarking as he rubbed his hands in a satisfied fashion, “Well, gentlemen, this is a good start around the Horn. We were 50° 45’ south this noon, and if this wind would only draw into the north a trifle and then hold, we might be across 50 in the Pacific aweek from to-day. I made it in six days once, but never expect to again.”
When a seaman speaks of rounding Cape Horn he does not mean simply passing the Cape itself, as one might Cape Cod or Cape Flattery. Looking at a map of South America, we find that the Horn is situated in 56° south latitude; but from the moment a ship crosses the fiftieth parallel in the South Atlantic until she has passed down around the stormy Cape and up in the Pacific to the fiftieth parallel in that ocean,—a distance approaching a thousand miles, she is said to be “rounding Cape Horn.” Until she is across 50 in the Pacific, the vessel is never safe from being blown clear back to the Cape by the furious western gales and hurricanes that rage almost continuously in this region. Thus theSagamorehad already started to round the Horn, although she was yet several hundred miles from the place itself.
The wind had increased to nearly a gale, and the ship was beginning to take some good-sized seas on board. The big surges struck the vessel’s sides with a shock that made her tremble as she sped on, and the mate soon bawled out, “Clew up the mizzen to’-gallant s’il!” The workof stripping the ship continued until nothing remained but a few storm-sails. All hands had been called, and it was indeed a sight to see the men aloft on the yards in the gathering darkness, as they tugged at the flapping canvas, trying to lay it on the yard so as to pass the gaskets round; while the wind howled through the rigging like mad, and theSagamore, as she plunged on, began to roll at a lively rate under the influence of the big sea which was being kicked up.
“I’m glad I’m not a sailor,” said Wilbur, preparing to go below. Just then a comber broke against the stern, and a good-sized lump of water plumped down on his back, drenching him thoroughly. Hartley laughed; so did the bo’s’un, who passed at that moment, and the passengers quickly descended the companion-way to the cabin, whose warmth and security were in sharp contrast to the bellowing gale and streaming decks without.
An exquisitely wrought lamp of Benares brass—it had once graced a viceroy’s mansion in Calcutta—shed its soft light on the marble-topped center table. The captain’s compass affixed to the ceiling silently indicated the vessel’s course, and a number of fine geraniums whichornamented the wheel-house windows in warm weather now occupied a rack about the inside of the skylight. The ends of the room were occupied by two cozy sofas, with lockers underneath; one containing old copies of “Harper’s” and “Scribner’s,” while a liberal supply of ale, beer, and similar comforts filled the other. Upon the walls, handsomely finished in panels of natural woods, were a brace of revolvers and several glittering swords and cutlasses belonging to the captain,—excellent weapons to have on a ship far removed from all civil law for months at a time. The floor was of Oregon pine, beautifully oiled and polished. Contrary to custom, it was on this voyage covered by a carpet that the steward had put down soon after leaving port, “so as the passengers wouldn’t break their necks when she got to rolling off Cape Horn.” Nearly all the way from New York to the Falklands the weather had been glorious, and the ship stood up like a church in the few squalls that were encountered; but now the young men began to think the steward had known what he was about when that carpet was laid. Walking or even sitting still had become an accomplishment, so Hartley brought out the fifth volume of “Les Miserables,”while Wilbur produced one of the numerous books he had provided. With chair-backs to the table, and feet braced against the sofas, they defied the elements temporarily and read on—to the accompaniment of groaning timbers, an occasional crash from the steward’s pantry, and the muffled roaring of the gale without.
The storm gained strength as the night advanced. While the mizzen topsail was being furled, bo’s’un Merrell went forward under the forecastle deck to put additional lashings on several casks of provisions stowed in the vicinity. He was assisted by two foremast hands, and the trio had just secured a barrel of flour when the ship was struck by a heavy sea, and gave a vicious roll that threw all three men against a water-butt standing near. The sailors gained their feet uninjured, but before the stunned bo’s’un could recover himself, a half-filled cask of beef broke loose and was hurled through space as though shot from a cannon. With a cry of warning, the two seamen stumbled out of the way, but before Merrell could escape he was felled like an ox, and his lantern smashed to fragments. The motion in that extreme forward part of the ship was very great, and the cask soon tookanother dive in a different direction; when the men, guided by the groans of the injured bo’s’un, groped their way to where he lay and contrived to drag him behind the hatch-coaming. He was able to sit up, and gasped out “Call the mate, Jack; I’ve got a bad hurt.”
It was about two o’clock in the morning. Captain Meade had been on deck most of the night, and went forward upon hearing of the accident. The suffering man was borne into his little room near the galley, where he underwent an examination which resulted in the discovery that the left leg was broken midway between knee and ankle.
Few men have commanded deep-water ships for twenty years without having had to deal with broken limbs occasionally, and the master of theSagamorewas no exception. Twice before had he successfully met a similar emergency, and in the present case there was a valuable assistant at hand in the person of Mr. Hartley, who had just completed a course of study at a New York medical college, and was now en route to the Pacific Coast to practice.
Having made his way aft across the dark and steeply-inclined deck, the captain called the steward, and then apprisedHartley of what had occurred. That young man had not slept for some hours, and upon learning of the accident was most anxious to render all the assistance in his power; for the bo’s’un was a good-natured fellow, liked by all.
While Hartley struggled into his clothes, Captain Meade procured splints and bandages from the medicine-chest. When both were ready, they opened the storm-door leading onto the main deck, and awaited a favorable moment. The night was black, but the gloom was relieved somewhat by the foam-covered water surging about the deck. Holding to the life-lines with one hand, they dashed forward along the lee side, stopping once to seize the line tightly and haul themselves up off the deck to avoid a deluge that tumbled over the weather bulwarks, and poured down to leeward.
The steward was already in attendance on the patient, and Hartley at once set about uniting the broken bones and applying the splints. What Captain Meade would have considered a painful and disagreeable necessity, he regarded from a professional standpoint only, and went about his work with a coolness and assurance that greatly relieved both captain andpatient. The abominable rolling was the worst obstacle to be overcome, but the task was at last accomplished, and in a highly creditable manner.
Merrell was resting easier when Captain Meade and “the surgeon” proceeded aft. The former stretched the chart of the Cape Horn region upon the cabin table and examined it long and closely; for Staten Land—rocky, uninhabited, and with no lighthouse to reveal its position—was rapidly being neared, and great caution was necessary.
There was now an apparent lull in the gale, but it was not for long. At daylight theSagamoreentered a “tide-rip” whose waters, lashed into fury by the gale, presented an awful spectacle. The ocean resembled a gigantic mill-race; the tide flowing one way, while a swift current set in the opposite direction, forming a whirlpool. Huge waves came from all directions at once, pouring tons of water on the main deck and forecastle. Progress was well-nigh impossible, but the captain kept resolutely on, knowing that the ship’s only salvation lay in running through the tide-rip before she should be hurled upon her side by some sea more mountainous than the rest. This nearly happened once whena towering wave half as high as the fore yard broke on board, staving in the heavy door of the galley and flooding the interior, washing everything movable from the decks; while the ship went over, and over, and over, till her yard-arms almost touched the water, and her decks were like the sloping roof of a house.
But the crisis was safely passed, and the maelstrom left behind. The gale blew itself out during the forenoon, the sky cleared, the sun shone brightly through the clear frosty atmosphere, and land was visible from the deck.
Land!
If you have never been so situated that for many weeks your eyes have not beheld a solitary foot of ground you can hardly appreciate the emotions of all on board theSagamoreas they looked on that bleak and forbidding promontory rising out of the mist—Cape St. John. A few hours later, the ship was opposite the treacherous straits of Lemaire, and very near the shore. The entire length of Staten Land from Cape St. John on the east to Cape St. Bartholomew on the west, was stretched out like a grand panorama; forty miles of low mountains, jagged rocks, and broken valleys, without a sign of animalor vegetable life, and with naught save great patches of snow to relieve its black nakedness. The straits of Lemaire separate this body of land from Tierra del Fuego, and on the latter might now be seen Bell Mountain,—a distant but lofty peak, on whose snow-capped summit the sun shone in wintry splendor.
Hundreds of large sailing vessels pass Cape St. John every year on their long voyages from New York, the British Isles and Continental Europe to our Pacific coast. It is a great rendezvous, and theSagamorepresently found herself in the midst of an imposing fleet of merchantmen of all nations. Here, at the southern extremity of the American continent, were ten ships and three barks, carrying the world’s products to San Francisco. Scores of eager faces lined the bulwarks, while on the poop of the nearest craft stood a woman—the first representative of the fair sex that anyone on theSagamorehad seen for three months. As the large vessels, with all their canvas set, slowly mounted the regular swell, a murmur of admiration burst from the passengers, who longed for a far-reaching camera to preserve the beautiful picture through years to come. Those ships had completed thefirst half of their long journeys, and now sailed in company for a few hours, soon to be scattered far and wide upon the mighty Pacific, to meet again at the Golden Gate, thousands of miles away. It was a sight to make the pulses thrill.
“Come on deck if you want to see Cape Horn!” called out Captain Meade to the passengers in the cabin, who instantly hurried on deck, for one can’t see the famous Cape every day.
The captain silently pointed his finger, and there, looming up out of the morning mist, the passengers saw Cape Horn. It was nearly twenty miles off, but so deceptive are distances at sea that it seemed not half that distance away. Who can behold without a feeling of awe, that black and naked rock, rising precipitously from a low islet to a height of five hundred feet! Like some grim and frowning sentinel, it stands guard where the waters of the two great oceans meet; tyrannizing over and sorely harassing the staunch ships which even its power is rarely able to destroy; drawing on, but to beat roughly back; and occasionally permitting one of them to fly past without even a protest, as if tosay, “I can be gracious when the mood’s upon me.”
It was a sharp, bracing morning. Everything wore a peaceful aspect, in spite of the peculiar moaning and whistling sound in the rigging which is always heard here. To the south, a vast ice-floe glittered in the brilliant sunlight; to leeward, two thin columns of smoke-like mist rising from the water showed where a couple of whales were blowing; while much nearer the ship, five splendid albatross sat gracefully upon the heavy swell—their black wings in striking contrast to their snow-white backs and necks. This grand looking creature is to the birds of the ocean what the eagle is to the birds of the land, and the martial look in its piercing black eye suggests a prince in disguise from some fairy tale.
The cabin breakfast had just been concluded, and the Cape pigeons were swarming around the ship, or swimming in the water alongside. The cunning horde knew the hours meals were served as well as they did day from night, and at such times all were on hand, waiting for the scraps which they knew would be thrown overboard by the cook and steward. They are pretty creatures, uniting the eyes andfeet of a duck with the head, bill, and other characteristics of the domestic pigeon. The breast is white, the head and back a bluish black, while the wings are dappled black and white. Beneath the feathers, the bird is covered with a wonderfully thick, soft down, which is so dense that not a drop of the icy water in which the creatures delight to swim and dive, can ever penetrate to the skin. Soon after a ship has passed the latitude of Rio de Janeiro, the pigeons begin to make their appearance, and they follow that vessel for weeks and weeks, until she has passed around the Horn, and far up into the Pacific. Then they disappear gradually as the warm latitudes are reached, transferring their allegiance to some craft bound back in the opposite direction. How they obtain sleep and rest is a mystery, for one never lights on a ship; but no matter how fast a vessel may go, or how severe a gale may rage, the whole tribe is in attendance every morning, like an army following its general.
The cook threw overboard a quantity of table scraps, and instantly every pigeon flew to the spot; all keeping up a discordant scolding and chattering, as each tried to keep the others from getting a bite, atthe same time gulping down anything it could get hold of. Several dived far down after sinking morsels. The passengers deciding to catch some of the birds, a line, with a small baited hook, was trailed out astern, and seven pigeons were soon hauled aboard, being caught in the mouth precisely as a fish is.
The first thing any ocean bird does upon being put on the deck of a ship, is to become sea-sick; and the prisoners unanimously followed this program. After parting with their breakfasts, they felt better, and one could not help laughing at the ludicrous expression of astonishment in the creatures’ eyes as they surveyed their novel surroundings. In the air or in the water, they were the personification of grace; but now they seemed to be all legs, and fell down, or plumped into something, after waddling a few yards. Then they ran along flapping their wings, as they tried to get sufficient start to enable them to soar, but only one succeeded in clearing the bulwarks. An old necktie was torn into strips, one being fastened around the neck of each bird. Thus ornamented, the captives were tossed up into the air, and off they went to tell their companions amongst what strange barbarians they had fallen.
The barometer had been falling for some days, and in spite of the fine morning, there were strong indications of an equinoctial hurricane. A heavy snowstorm hid Cape Horn from view that afternoon, a contrary wind sprang up, and the ship was driven entirely off her course, being compelled to head for the South Pole. The passengers arrayed themselves in oilers, not forgetting to tie strands of rope about their boot-tops to keep the water out, and paced the quarter-deck, where George Marsh, the mate, entertained them with tales of torrid Singapore.
But spray was flying over theSagamore, the gale’s roaring made conversation difficult, and though the speed was exhilarating, the young men were soon driven below, leaving the mate to his lonely vigil.
He paced the deck with no companion but his own gloomy and bitter thoughts, for his life had been a hard one. Confined to a seamen’s hospital for many weary months by a terrible accident, he had thus lost command of a fine bark; and when at last he left the sick room, it was only to receive the crushing intelligence that all his earthly possessions had been destroyed by fire. Though a splendid seaman, hehad since been unable to obtain a master’s berth, and now as a subordinate, trod the deck of a ship which he was in every way fitted to command.
By midnight the ship was rolling so frightfully that it was feared some of the masts would go. Great seas were coming aboard, the main deck resembled a lake, and the crew had hair-breadth escapes from going overboard. The bellowing of the hurricane was awful, and a constant succession of snow-squalls struck the ship, sending the white flakes driving through the air and upon the decks in a feathery cloud. The carpenter was proceeding to the pumps to sound the well when he fell upon the slippery deck, fetching up in the lee scuppers a moment later, where he was buried in foam and water. He had presence of mind enough to grasp a rope, and when the ship rolled in the opposite direction he emerged from his unceremonious bath as though nothing had happened. The hurricane continued to gather force; the decks were swept of everything movable, and the possible shifting of the cargo caused continual apprehension. But a more serious danger threatened the ship. When the temperature of the water was taken, the thermometer registered a sharpdrop, indicating the proximity of a large body of ice. A sharp lookout was kept, but the blackness of the night and the fury of the hurricane made it impossible to see any distance from the ship.
Among the Icebergs
Just before daybreak, the thrilling cry of “Ice dead ahead!” came from the lookout, and there was hardly time to give the wheel a few turns before a great gray mass loomed up on the port bow. A moment more, and one of the gigantic ice mountains so dreaded in these southern seas came into plain view. It towered far above the mast-heads, culminating in a circle of fantastic pinnacles which resembled the turrets of a castle. The waves, breaking against its base with a noise like thunder, hurled themselves far up its steep sides, soon to descend in the form of foaming cataracts and water falls. High up on the near side, overhanging the water, was a threatening mass of ice that seemed ready to fall on the ship, and blot her out of existence. So perilously close to the great berg was theSagamore, that its freezing breath chilled all on deck to the marrow, and the ship’s red port light, as she swept by, shone weirdly on the frozen mass, revealing gruesome caverns that penetrated far inward. Everyone breathedeasier when the monster was passed, and several recalled the names of missing ships that mysteriously disappeared in the South Atlantic.
The first streaks of dawn revealed five more bergs, which formed an icy barrier through which it was perilous to attempt a passage; while the dangerous group of rocks known as the Diego Ramirez effectually blocked the way to the north. At any moment the flying ship might crash into one of the bergs, so it was decided to heave to, thus lessening the danger of collision.
Tacking a large square-rigged vessel is considerable of a job at any time, but at night, and in a hurricane, it is an arduous task. The stiffened braces, wet with icy salt water, got tangled up, and occasionally a man would make a mistake amid the maze of ropes, thus adding to the confusion. But at last the work was finished, and the ship brought to a standstill. Several times she went over so far that captain and mates hardly dared to breathe for fear she was on her side and would never right. But after remaining in that precarious position for a moment, the ship would keel over with a sickening velocity from one side to the other; the mast-headsreeling dizzily against the sky, until she brought up with a jerk, as a sea pounded against her side. At each roll, the bulwarks went far under, allowing a flood to come roaring and tumbling aboard; washing about the main deck, tangling up ropes, and knocking men off their feet. Several seamen were kept busy attending to the oil-bags, whose contents were poured upon the waters in large quantities, but without the usual effect. The exposed position of the forward house subjected it to the full fury of the hurricane. The helpless bo’s’un lay in his bunk listening to the roaring and screeching outside, and once when an unusually big sea descended on the roof overhead, making the oak beams crack ominously, he set his teeth and thought of the calamity that had recently befallen an American ship, when the whole forward house with its sleeping inmates was carried overboard, and half the ship’s company annihilated at one fell blow.
Pandemonium reigned in the cabin. A sea stove in the companion door, the water pouring down stairs and flooding everything. Several pieces of furniture broke loose, and were banged against the partitions half the night. Everything was upside down; oatmeal covered the floorof the steward’s pantry, and the bathroom was littered with broken glass. Both passengers were thankful when daylight dispelled the most anxious night either had ever passed.
For a long time, the steward could not get forward, nor was the cook able to get aft. Consequently, there was no cabin breakfast until nearly nine o’clock. Such a meal! It was eaten by lamplight, for great seas were thundering down on the poop overhead and the storm shutters to the windows could not be taken off. It had been found almost impossible to keep anything on the galley stove, but the cook and steward between them managed to prepare some coffee, biscuits, ham and potatoes. The biscuits were lost when the steward fell on the deck as he conveyed the breakfast aft, but those who gathered about the table were satisfied, as they had their hands too full to eat anything at all, and Wilbur kept thinking of the line, “Some ha’ meat, and canna eat.”
All that day and night the hurricane lasted. The following afternoon, the barometer, after falling for a week, came to a stand at 28:20, and the climax had been reached.
“I thought I had seen storms before,” said Wilbur, “but this equinoctial has opened my eyes. It passes my comprehension how any ship can stand such a pounding and wrenching as this one has endured for three days and nights.”