IN DANGER FROM A WATERSPOUT.--CAUGHT IN A GALE.--SEPARATED FROM OUR
CONSORT.--A GHOST ON THE WASHINGTON!
At daylight the next morning the Warwick was about four miles ahead and
a little to the south of the Washington. The night had been clear with
a steady wind blowing, and each ship had laid its course perfectly.
The Warwick shortened sail a little, so that about noon we came up to
within hailing distance of the Warwick. Our first mate, Mr. Stevens,
hailed, and asked how things were going.
"All right, sir," was the reply. "Everything all right on board, and
Warwick's people getting 'on comfortably. Don't think any more of 'em
will die."
Then we gave them latitude and longitude, and after that the ships
steered away from each other and sailed along about a mile apart.
It was partly a feeling of humanity and partly a practical desire for
making money for himself and owners that prompted our captain to reduce
his own crew in order to save the Warwick and the people on board of
her. The Warwick's cargo was a valuable one, and the ship was also
worth quite a handsome amount of money, as she was only three years
old, substantially built, and well rigged throughout. The salvage on
her would be very large, at least so Bill Haines said, probably sixty
or seventy per cent, and that would be distributed among the owners of
the Washington, her captain, and the salvage crew that went on board
the Warwick. I asked Haines if those who stayed behind on the Warwick
would get anything, and he said he believed not. I intimated that it
was hardly fair to leave us out, as we had to perform, in addition to
our own duties, all the work that would have been done by those who had
left us.
"You'll find out, sonny, as you go along in life," said Haines, "that
it isn't all fair sailing and fair play. Them that does the least work
gets the highest pay. They couldn't sail a ship at all without sailors
before the mast; a ship has got to have a crew anyway, but they don't
pay the crew nothing like what they pays the captain and mates."
I accepted Bill's logic at the time, and thought that the men before
the mast were unjustly treated. Since I became mate and captain I see
things in a different light, and that the officers get higher wages
than the crew because they deserve them. I might have told Bill at the
time that a ship could not sail without officers any more than she
could sail without a crew; but you never think of these smart answers
until after it is too late to give them.
We continued on our course, keeping a sharp lookout for our former
acquaintance, the British man-of-war, and for any other of her kind
that might be floating about the ocean. At that time Great Britain had
nearly a thousand ships-of-war of various kinds, large and small, and
kept them in pretty active service. You never knew when or where you
were likely to run against one of them; whenever you did meet one there
was a chance that she would take some of your men in the manner already
described. So it was the American policy to keep out of their reach, if
possible, and we could generally distinguish them from other ships, as
already explained, by their neat and trim appearance as compared with
merchantmen.
It was four or five days after we met the Warwick that the man at the
mast-head gave a call that put a new sensation in our veins. We had
become a little listless in our work, as the routine was exactly the
same from day to day, and from watch to watch, and though we were in
considerable dread as to what might be coming, the thrill of excitement
was by no means unwelcome.
A south-easterly breeze was blowing, and the skies above us were very
dark, in fact, they grew so dark as to make the broad midday that it
was seem like twilight, and though the Warwick was only two or three
miles away from us we couldn't make her out. The man at the mast-head
said it looked as if a squall was coming, and the captain paced the
quarter-deck in a very uneasy mood.
Suddenly and noiselessly a strange apparition descended out of the
blackness of the heavens! It looked to me as though a portion of a
cloud was descending toward the water. When it came down to within
fifteen or twenty feet of the sea the waters beneath it began to boil
and twist and foam. It was not more than a third of a mile away from
the ship, and the worst thing about it was that it came directly
towards us. It resembled an inverted cone touching the surface of the
ocean, and the water seemed to rise up to meet it.
My friend Haines was up aloft helping to take in the mainsail, so that
I could not ask him what the strange apparition was. By and by he came
down and around to where I stood, and as he reached me he remarked,--
"That's a dangerous thing, Jack! More dangerous than a British
man-of-war!"
"What is it?" I asked.
"That's a waterspout," he replied, "and a big one too. I never saw
one quite as large as that, nor as white. They're most of 'em black,
sometimes blacker even than the sky above is now, but this one, you
see, is a good deal whiter. If it ever hits us we're gone to the
bottom!"
"How does that happen?" I asked. "Does it let down a great lot of water
on the ship?"
"Yes, that's just what it does! It lets down water enough to drown a
ship and sink her out of sight. It's just as if you should empty a
whole barrel of water over one of the toy boats you used to make when
you were a small boy."
Nearer and nearer came the waterspout toward us. The captain went below
and brought out a musket, a weapon that had done duty in Revolutionary
times.
"What's he got that for?" I asked; "I hope he isn't going to shoot
anybody."
"No," said Haines, "he won't shoot anybody on board the ship; what he's
after is to shoot the waterspout if it comes too near."
"What good will that do?"
"If you shoot into a waterspout," replied Haines, "it will break up
and tumble into the sea, provided you are lucky enough to hit it right
in the center and before it gets too near the ship. I've seen that
done two or three times. Some sailors declare it's no use, but I know
better, and every ship I go to sea on I hope will have a gun to shoot
waterspouts with."
According to my reckoning the dreaded column came within two hundred
yards of the Washington; then it seemed to stop and move away toward
the southward, where it disappeared. Whether it broke up or continued
to hold together I don't know, but just as it went out of sight in the
clouds there was a squall struck us, and danced the Washington around
pretty lively. As we had made everything snug when the squall was first
reported, it did no particular harm, but I noticed that it whitened
several of the faces of the men standing around me.
Haines told me that it used to be believed that the waterspouts in the
Atlantic Ocean were really dragons or great serpents in the air. Some
thought that the waterspout was a terrible animal living in the bottom
of the sea, and some declared them to be black serpents passing from
the desert into the sea, and living five hundred years. One of the old
writers, in a book I've seen since I've quit the sea-faring life, says
that in the Gulf of Salato every month in the year a great black dragon
is seen to come from the clouds and put its head into the water. Its
tail seems as though it were fixed in the sky, and this dragon drinks
so greedily that it swallows any ships that may come in the water,
along with their crews and cargo, be they ever so heavy.
It used to be the custom on French and Spanish ships, when waterspouts
appeared, for the sailors to hold a religious service, raising their
swords and holding them against each other in the shape of a cross.
It was claimed that this would cause the dragon to flee, as he is an
infidel, and always takes flight when he sees the Christian cross.
One old writer, Thevenot, says he was an eye-witness of just such
a scene when the mariners drove away a waterspout in the manner
described. In another instance one of the ship's company knelt down
by the mainmast, held in his hand a knife with a black handle, and
read the Gospel according to St. John. When he came to the words, "Et
verbum carne factum est et habitant in nobis" (And the Word was made
flesh and dwelt among us), the man turned towards the waterspout, and
with his knife cut the air as if he were cutting the dragon or a demon.
Immediately the water fell with a great noise, and the ship was saved.
Nothing of consequence happened for two days after the adventure with
the waterspout. At the end of the second day a gale sprang up and blew
with such a velocity for twelve or fourteen hours that the safety of
the ship was greatly endangered. All the sails were taken in, with the
exception of the least bit of a rag of a foresail and jib, just enough
to hold the Washington around with her head to the wind. Frequently
the waves broke over her bows and threatened to swamp her. The captain
ordered the man at the wheel to be securely tied, for fear he would be
washed overboard, and everybody on deck at the time took the precaution
to lash himself to something whenever his duties did not require him to
be moving about deck or climbing into the rigging.
It was well that we took this precaution; at any rate, it was well that
I did. Several times the seas were so heavy that I'm sure I should
have been washed overboard if I had not been lashed to the foot of the
mainmast, and held on with all my might to the halliards that were
attached to it. As you already know, it was David's watch below while I
was on deck; when the watches were changed I told him what I had been
doing, and advised him to follow my example.
He did so, and told me afterward that he thought my advice had saved
him from being washed overboard. It was the first real gale of the
voyage, and consequently the first that David and I had ever seen. We
wished ourselves back at home in Pembroke, but wishing did not help the
matter a bit; and we resigned ourselves to whatever fate had in store
for us.
All on board the Washington had a good deal of anxiety concerning the
Warwick, as she was so short-handed in crew. With only one officer and
six men it would be necessary for all of them to be on duty through the
entire night. There was no such thing as standing watch and watch in a
gale like that.
When the morning came we looked anxiously all about the horizon, the
mate going aloft with the captain's glass and sweeping every part of
the ocean as far as he could see. He must have staid up there fully an
hour; every eye was watching him, and every ear listening in the hope
of hearing him call out "Sail ho!" and indicate the direction where the
sail appeared. But he made no call, and descended finally to the deck.
He shook his head as the captain spoke to him, and we all knew just as
well as though he had told us that the Warwick was not in sight.
We had been driven a considerable distance out of our course by the
gale. As the wind abated we put on a little sail, and increased the
quantity at intervals as the wind dropped down. When we had resumed
our course and were moving along at a fair pace I looked to the south
and saw, perhaps eight or ten miles away from us, a solid wall of
what seemed to be land. I was about to say so to the men who were
nearest to me, but checked myself just in time to avoid a display of my
ignorance. Haines was a little distance away from me, near the foot of
the foremast, and so I sidled up to him and asked him to look in the
direction that I indicated. I did not suggest what I thought that bank
was, and left him to enlighten me or not. We seemed to be approaching
the shore with considerable rapidity, and yet we were sailing parallel
to it, and not in its direction.
"That fog-bank will be on us pretty quick," Haines remarked; and then I
knew that what I had supposed to be land was nothing more than fog.
"Get out your knife, Jack," said Haines, "and be ready to slash yer way
through it. That's one of them fogs that's made out 'er pea-soup and
water mixed with a lot of air. When it gets on us you won't be able to
see the length of the ship, and just so long as that fog stays we might
as well be sailing in a wash-tub for all that we can see around us."
I kept my eye on the fog-bank and saw that it neared us rapidly until
it reached us. All around and above the air was clear, and it did not
take much imagination to suppose that a great monster was coming out of
the south to overwhelm us.
In some parts of the world the fog is supposed to be the abode of
spirits, and in former times the fog itself was believed to be a spirit
which had taken that shape. Some of our sailors seemed to have a
particular dread of the fog, not so much for its disagreeable nature
and the possibility of having a collision with another ship while
shut up in the fog-bank, but an uncanny feeling growing out of their
superstitions. I didn't have any superstitious fear at all concerning
it, but it certainly gave me a very uncomfortable sensation when I saw
it coming.
Well, when that fog arrived, it seemed as though it would swamp us.
Actually, you couldn't see from one end of the ship to the other, and
if there had been a thousand ships close around us we couldn't have
seen one of them until we ran into her or got near enough to be in
danger. In a little while the sails and rigging were wet as though
there had been a heavy shower, and the water dripped from them in all
directions. There was no need of washing the deck when the mist had
been on us for an hour or more, as the fog drenched it and the rolling
of the ship caused the water to pass out through the scuppers. My
clothes were wet through, as though I had been overboard without taking
them off, and it seemed to me that I was breathing a mixture of air and
water in about equal proportions, and ran the risk of being drowned in
consequence.
The fog remained with us the greater part of the day, not blowing away
until nearly nightfall. It went as suddenly as it came, and we were all
glad to see it disappear.
When the fog had gone away Mr. Stevens went aloft again with the
captain's telescope, but with the same result as before; the Warwick
was nowhere to be seen.
We settled down to another night of anxiety concerning our companion
ship, and our talk on the subject showed that our fears for the safety
of our consort had been greatly increased in the past twenty-four
hours. Some of the men felt entirely sure that the Warwick was lost,
others had grave doubts, and others again were quite hopeful of her
safety. Among those in the last category was my friend Haines, and he
demonstrated the reason for his belief by setting forth his faith in
Mr. Johnson and the men who accompanied him.
"Johnson has the nerve of a thunderbolt," said Haines, "and he's got
the wearing qualities of a piece of steel. The men as went with him
were among the best on the ship, all good, able-bodied seamen, and the
kind of men you want to stick to when you know 'em. Johnson knew just
what to do with the ship when the gale came on, and you can bet he did
it. We'll see if the Warwick don't turn up at the point where we was to
meet her in case we got blowed apart."
The night passed quietly and the next day came on bright and beautiful.
We had a good eight-knot breeze on our starboard quarter and
everything spread that would draw. After the sun was well up, the mate
climbed again into the rigging and scanned the horizon all around in
search of the Warwick. She wasn't to be seen anywhere; again the spirit
of gloom passed over the ship's company, and the question that rose
most prominently in every mind was, "Shall we ever see the Warwick
again?"
A rumor went about that a ghost had been seen on board the ship during
the night. With each repetition the story increased, until finally it
included Mr. Johnson, our second mate, and all the men who were with
him, their specters having been seen in solemn procession by the man at
the wheel just before the watch was changed at midnight.
It was two or three hours before the report reached the captain's
ears; and I may remark that very often on shipboard a story may be
circulating for days and weeks among the men of the crew, and the
captain know nothing about it. As soon as Captain Dawson--I believe
I haven't told you before the name of our commander--heard about the
ghost, he proceeded to take active measures concerning him. All hands
were called; the men were ordered to stand up in line, and then the
captain began at one end of it and questioned each man successively.
"Did you see any ghost last night?" he said to the first.
"No, sir, I did not," was the laconic reply.
"Did you see any ghost last night?" Captain Dawson asked, addressing
the second man.
"No, sir, I did not."
In this way he questioned each man until he came to the ninth or tenth,
I forget which, one of the two men whom the British officer was about
to take away at the time we were intercepted, as I have told in a
previous chapter. When the question was asked, the man raised his hand
to his head in form of a salute, and replied,--
"I don't know, sir, but I thought I did."
"Well, tell me what it was that you thought you saw."