THE MAELSTROM.
THE MAELSTROM.
THE MAELSTROM.
“The breeze, which had been long flagging, now lulled into a calm, and soon a low continual hum, like that of an army of bees, which seemed to rise out of the stilled ocean, became audible to every ear. Not a word was spoken; every one held his breath whilst he listened with an intensity of eagerness that betokened the awe that was fast filling the heart. ‘It is the Moskoestrom!’ cried the boatswain. ‘The Moskoestrom!’ echoed the crew. ‘Away, men!’ shouted the mate; ‘down to the hold, bring up the spare sails, clear the deck, set up a spar for a mast; away, away!’
“The din of preparation drowned the stern hum of the distant whirlpool: there was, however, an anxious pause when the new sail was set into the air; and experienced sailors suffered themselves to be cheated with the hope that there was still breeze enough to make the good ship answer her helm. But, alas! the heavy canvas refused to expand its folds, and not a breath of wind ruffled the dull surface of the sullen waters. They had not another hope; the sailors looked on one another with blank dismay, and now they heard, with awful distinctness, the roar of the terrible Maelstrom, and the frowning rocks of Loffoden were but too plainly visible on the right. It became evident to all, that the ship, borne along by the tide, was fast drawing near the dreadful whirlpool. The vessel continued slowly to approach, and the certainty of unavoidable death became every moment more overpowering and intense. At first the sailors stood together in a group, gazing gloomily upon one another; but as the roar of the whirlpool became louder and louder, and the conviction of inevitable destruction became stronger, they all dispersed to various parts of the ship. * * *
“It was a beautiful day; the sun shone forth without a cloud to dim his luster, the waves sparkled beneath his influence, and the white plumage of a thousand busy sea-birds became more dazzling with his rays. The isle of Moskoe was close at hand, and looked cheerful and inviting, but the ship was not to approach nearer to its shores; the stream which bore her along never suffered any vessel to pause in its career. And now there arose at some distance ahead of the vessel, a horrible and dismal bellowing. It was the voice of the leviathan in his agony; and when those on deck who had still ears for exterior sounds looked forward to ascertain its cause, they beheld a huge black monster upon the surface of the sea, struggling against the irresistible stream, and with his immense tail lashing the waters into foam, as he vainly strove to escape from destruction. They beheld him borne away by the might of his furious enemy; and they heard his last roar above the noise of the whirlpool, as he was sucked down into the never satisfied abyss, and disappeared from their eyes to be torn to atoms; for such is the fate of everything that seeks the depths of the Maelstrom.
“The ship glides along faster and faster; she begins to toss and roll uneasily in the angry rapids that boil around her; her race is nearly run. Terrible! terrible moment! The ship hurries on to her doom with mad impetuosity. She is in the rapids! she hurries along swift as a flash of fire. She is in the whirl of water! round, round, round she goes; her inmates catch hold of her bulwarks and of each other, to steady themselves. And now her bow sprit is under the waves, and a wild shriek of despair rises into the sky! The whirlpool, with greedy jaws, has sucked her under.”
The water of the whirlpool is said to be two hundred and fifty feet deep, and at ebb its noise is as loud as a cataract. In 1645, it was so violently agitated by a storm, that in Moskoe the houses were so shaken as to cause the stones to fall to the ground. Fragments of vessels wrecked in the Maelstrom are frequently seen on the coast, brought up by the return of the tide, their edges mashed and jagged as with a saw, which would induce the belief that the bottom is composed of sharp rocks.
Similar in its cause to the Maelstrom, though on a much inferior scale, is the current, or whirlpool, calledHurlgateorHellgate, between the East river and Long Island sound, near New York. In the narrow channel here, the tide flows backward and forward with great force; and there being large, irregular rocks in this channel, the water is thrown into the most violent agitation. In passing through the place, it is easy to see the waves seeming to boil as if in a pot. This place is dangerous to vessels, and many have been wrecked here; though the navigation is now so well understood, that fewer accidents happen than formerly. The steamboats generally pass in safety, but still the superb Oregon got upon the rocks here, within a few years, and came near being lost.
Between Sicily and the main land are the straits of Messina, where the current is rapid. Ancient mariners deemed this a terrible place; one side they called Scylla, and the other Charybdis. The poets depicted the sailor in this rapid, as beset by horrors; for if he escaped Scylla on one side, Charybdis was ready to dash him in pieces on the other. This idea has come down to our day, and has even passed into a proverb.