The air was thick with scud-water, so thick, indeed, that it was like
fog, it being impossible to see farther than some twenty fathoms from
the boat. This scud-water swept horizontally along in a perfect deluge,
and stung like shot when, by way of experiment, I exposed one of my
hands to it. As for the wind, it was like an invisible wall driving
along; it was simply impossible to stand up against it; it scourged the
surface of the ocean into a level plain of white froth, which was torn
away and hurled along like a shower of bullets. Our sea anchor
fortunately maintained a sufficient hold upon the water to keep the gig
riding head to wind, but that was as much as it could do; with the
painter strained taut for its whole length, the boat was driving away to
leeward, stern-first, at a speed of--according to my estimate--fully
seven miles an hour! And it was, perhaps, a fortunate thing for us that
such was the case; for had we been riding to a sea anchor powerful
enough, and sunk deep enough in the water to have held us nearly
stationary, I believe we should have been swamped within five minutes of
the outburst of the hurricane. Even as it was, and despite all the
precautions that we had taken to make our canvas covering perfectly
secure, the wind tugged at it and beat upon it with such vehement fury
that I momentarily expected to see it torn bodily off the boat and go
driving away to leeward in tatters. Probably the thorough soaking that
it almost instantly received--and which caused the fabric to shrink up
and strain still tighter than it was before--may have had something to
do with the stubborn resistance that it offered to the gale. Be that as
it may, it held intact; and to that circumstance I attribute the fact
that the gig was not instantly swamped. But no woven fabric, however
stout,--scarcely wood itself,--could long withstand such a furious
pelting of scud-water as our sails were now enduring, and in about ten
minutes the water began to drip through, first in single drops, here and
there, then in a few small streams, that rapidly increased in number
until there seemed in the thick darkness to be hundreds of them; for in
endeavouring to avoid one stream we only succeeded in encountering two
or three more. To add to the unpleasantness of the situation, it was
impossible for us to light the lantern; for although we were sheltered
from the direct violence of the gale by the canvas, the wind somehow
managed to penetrate beneath, creating quite a formidable little scuffle
there, and easily frustrating all our efforts to obtain a light. And
very soon we had another annoyance to contend with, in the shape of a
gradual accumulation of water in the boat, whether caused by a leak in
the hull, or by the drainage of the water through the canvas we knew
not; but it obliged us to have recourse to baling, which proved to be a
singularly awkward operation in such cramped quarters and such pitchy
darkness.
The first mad fury of the outburst lasted for about three-quarters of an
hour,--it _seemed_ a perfect eternity to us, in our condition of
overpowering suspense, but I do not believe it was longer than three-
quarters of an hour at the utmost,--and then it subsided into a heavy
gale of wind, and the sea began to get up so rapidly that within another
hour we were being flung hither and thither with such terrific violence
that in a very short time our bodies were covered with bruises, while
some of the men actually became sea-sick! And now, too, a new danger
threatened us; for as the sea rose it commenced to break, and it was not
long ere we had the seas washing, in rapidly increasing volume, over the
boat, and pouring down through the opening over the stern-sheets. This
kept us baling in good earnest, not only with our solitary bucket but
with hats and boots as well, to save the boat from being swamped. And
the bitterest hardship of it all was that there was no relief, not a
moment's intermission throughout the whole of that dreadful,
interminable night. We were in continuous peril of death with every
breath that we drew; every second saw us trembling upon the verge of
eternity, and escaping destruction as by a constantly recurring
succession of miracles. It was a frightful experience, so frightful
that language is utterly powerless to describe it; the most eloquent pen
could do no more than convey a poor, feeble, and miserably inadequate
idea of the terror and suffering of it. No one who has not undergone
such an experience can form the remotest conception of its horrors.
All things mundane have an end, however, sooner or later; and at length
the welcome light of day once more made its appearance, piercing slowly
and with seeming reluctance through the dense canopy of black, storm-
torn cloud and flying scud that overhung us. And then we almost wished
that it had remained night, so dreary and awe-inspiring was the scene
that met our aching gaze. The heavens gave no sign of relenting, the
sky looked wild as ever,--although the awful ruddy glow had long since
faded out from the clouds,--while the ocean seemed to be lashed and
goaded by the furious wind into an endless succession of rushing
mountain waves, every one of which, as it swept with hissing, foam-white
crest down upon us, seemed mercilessly bent upon our destruction. As I
stood up and gazed about me,--for I could do so now, by leaning well
forward against the wind,--it seemed a marvellous thing to me that the
gig continued to live through it; for, light and buoyant though she was,
every sea she met swept her from stem to stern; and it was plain enough
to us all now that it was nothing but the canvas covering that saved
her. As it was, we shipped so much water that it was as much as three
of us could do--that being all who could work in the opening at one
time--to keep her from filling. To add still further to our misery, we
were one and all by this time dead tired, worn out, in fact, with the
terror and anxiety of the past night; yet we dared not yet attempt to
seek the comfort and refreshment of sleep, for our critical situation
continued to demand our utmost watchfulness and our unremitting
exertions; and when at length we sought to renew our strength by means
of a meal, the grievous discovery was made that the whole of our small
stock of ship's bread was spoiled and rendered uneatable by the salt
water. And, as though this misfortune was not in itself sufficiently
serious, when we sought to quench our thirst we discovered that the bung
of the water-breaker had somehow got out of the bung-hole, allowing so
much salt water to mingle with our small stock of fresh that the latter
had been rendered almost undrinkable.
Our first gleam of hope and encouragement came to us about half an hour
before noon that day, when our anxious watching was rewarded by the
appearance of a small, momentary break in the sky, low down toward the
horizon to windward; it showed but for a moment, and then was lost
again. But presently a wider and more pronounced break appeared which
did _not_ vanish; on the contrary, it widened, until presently a fitful
gleam of wan and watery sunshine pierced through it and lighted up the
bleak, desolate expanse of raging ocean for a few seconds. And almost
simultaneously with the welcome appearance of this transient but welcome
gleam of pallid sunshine, we became aware of a slight but unmistakable
diminution in the fury of the gale; a change productive of such profound
relief to us, worn out as we all were by long-protracted toil and
anxiety, that we actually greeted it with a feeble cheer! Nor was the
hope thus aroused fallacious; for from this moment the sky began to
clear, until within a couple of hours the storm-clouds had all swept
away to leeward, leaving the sky a clear, pure blue, streaked here and
there, it is true, with a tattered, trailing streamer of pinky grey,
that, however, soon vanished; and once more we revelled in the glorious
warmth and radiance of the unclouded sunlight, while the wind dropped so
rapidly that, but for the sea, which still ran with dangerous weight, we
might have made sail again by sunset. As it was, we were all so
completely worn out that I think we were really thankful for an excuse
to leave the boat riding to her sea anchor a few hours longer, while we
sought and obtained what was even more necessary to us than food and
drink--sleep.
All actual danger was by this time past, so we arranged that each of us
should keep a look out for an hour while the rest slept, there being
sufficient of us to carry us through the night at this rate; and I
undertook to keep the first look out. That hour was, I think, the
longest sixty minutes I had ever up to then experienced; for, now that
constant watchfulness was no longer necessary to insure our safety, the
incentive to watchfulness was gone, and overtaxed nature craved so
vehemently for repose that the effort, to remain awake was absolutely
painful. I continued, however, to perform the task that I had
undertaken, and, when my hour had expired, flung myself down in the
stern-sheets, where I instantly sank into a profound and dreamless
sleep, having first, of course, aroused young Lindsay, and cautioned him
to maintain a bright lookout for passing ships--a caution which I gave
orders should be passed on from man to man throughout the night.
When I awoke I found that I had maintained all through the night the
precise attitude in which I had flung myself down to sleep some hours
before; it appeared to me that I had not stirred by so much as a hair's-
breadth all through those hours of unconsciousness. I awoke
spontaneously, with the light of the sun shining strongly through my
still closed eyelids. The first thing after that of which I became
conscious was that the boat was rising and falling easily with a long,
steady, swinging motion; then I opened my eyes, and immediately noticed
that the sun was some two hours high. A very soft, warm, gentle breeze
fanned my cheek, and the only audible sounds were the snores and snorts
of many sleepers near me, mingling with the gentle lap of water along
the boat's planking. All hands save myself were sound asleep! I was
not greatly surprised at this, though naturally a trifle vexed that my
orders as to the maintenance of a lookout had not been more strictly
observed. But it was not until I had risen to my feet and flung an
inquiring glance round the horizon that I realised how miserably
unfortunate this negligence had been. For there, away in the western
board, distant some fourteen miles, gleamed the sails of a large ship;
and a more intent scrutiny revealed the tantalising circumstance that
she was steering such a course as had undoubtedly carried her past us
about an hour before daybreak at a distance of little more than three
miles; and, had a proper watch been maintained, we could have
intercepted and boarded her without difficulty. Whether she happened to
be a friend or an enemy was a matter of very secondary import just then,
in our miserable plight as regarded our stock of provisions and water;
our situation was such that even to have fallen into the hands of the
enemy would have been better than to be left as we were.
I at once roused all hands, and we forthwith went to work to cut adrift
the sails that had served us so well, and to bend them afresh to the
yards; while the others hauled aboard our sea anchor, cut its lashings
adrift, and took to the oars with the object of going in pursuit of the
distant sail. For there was yet a chance for us. If we could keep her
in sight long enough there was just a possibility that some one or
another of her crew, working aloft, might cast a glance astern and catch
sight of our tiny sail, when he would at once recognise it as that of a
boat, and report it; when, if the skipper happened to be a humane man,
he would assuredly heave-to and wait for us to close. So we all went to
work with a will, and soon had the boat all ataunto once more, and in
pursuit of the stranger as fast as oars and sails together could put her
through the water. But the experience of the first hour sufficed to
demonstrate beyond all question the hopelessness of our attempt to
overtake the ship; she was leaving us rapidly, and unless someone aloft
happened to sight us, our prospects of rescue, so far as she was
concerned, were not worth a moment's consideration. The men, partially
restored by their night's sound sleep, toiled like tigers at the oars,
in their anxiety to prolong the chance of our being sighted to the
latest possible moment, frequently relieving each other. But it was all
of no avail; strive as they would, the stranger steadily increased her
distance from us until, after we had been in pursuit of her for fully
three hours, the heads of her royals sank below the western horizon, and
we lost her for good and all. Then the men sullenly laid in their oars,
declaring that they were worn out and could do no more. Then they began
to savagely inquire among themselves who was the individual to whose
culpable carelessness we were all indebted for our present
disappointment. The culprit was soon discovered in the person of a
little Welshman--the man whose watch followed Lindsay's. This man
declared that he had remained awake throughout his watch, and had duly
called his successor before resuming his slumbers. But there was some
reason to doubt this statement; and even if it happened to be true, he
was still culpable, according to his own showing, for he was obliged to
confess that he had not waited to assure himself that his successor was
properly awakened, but had satisfied himself with a single shake of the
sleeper's shoulder, accompanied by the curt announcement that it was
time to turn out, and had then flung himself down and gone to sleep. As
for the man whom the Welshman was supposed to have awakened, he
disclaimed all responsibility upon the ground that, if called at all--
which he did not believe--he had been called so ineffectively as to be
quite unconscious of the circumstance. At the conclusion of the
inquiry, his comrades were so furiously incensed with the Welshman for
his culpable--almost criminal--neglect, that they seemed strongly
disposed to take summary vengeance upon him; and it needed the exertion
of all my authority to protect the fellow from their violence, which
broke out anew when at noon we went to dinner, and were compelled to
make out the best meal we could upon raw salt beef washed down with
water so brackish that we could scarcely swallow it. Reduced to such a
condition as this, it will scarcely be wondered at that I should be
brought to something very nearly approaching despair when my
observations that day revealed the disconcerting fact that, thanks to
our excessive drift during the gale, we were still fully six hundred
miles from our port of destination--a distance which we scarce dared to
hope might be covered, even under the most favourable circumstances, in
less than five days.
But it soon appeared as though even this protracted period of privation
and exposure was to be increased, for, as the afternoon wore on, the
wind, still continuing to drop, grew so light that our speed dwindled
down to a bare three knots by the hour of sunset; and by midnight it had
still further fallen to such an extent that our sails became useless to
us, and the oars had once more to be resorted to.
The return of daylight found us in the midst of a stark calm, under a
cloudless sky, out of which the sun soon began to dart his scorching
beams so pitilessly that the task of pulling shortly became a labour
little less than torture to people in our exhausted condition; indeed,
so severe did the men find it, that, after persevering until about four
bells in the afternoon watch, they gave it up, declaring themselves to
be quite incapable of further exertion. And thus, for the remainder of
the day, we lay motionless upon that oil-smooth sea, under the
blistering rays of the burning sun, with our tongues cleaving to our
palates as we began to experience the first fierce torments of
unquenchable thirst. For our supply of water--all but undrinkable as it
was--was growing so short that it became imperatively necessary to
husband it with the most jealous care, and to reduce our allowance to
the very smallest quantity upon which life could possibly be sustained.
The men sought to forget their sufferings in sleep, disposing themselves
in the bottom of the boat, under the shelter of the now useless sails;
but I was far too anxious to be able to sleep, for I began to realise
that our boat voyage threatened to develop into an adventure that might
easily terminate in a ghastly tragedy.
Half an hour before sunset I called the men, and we went to supper; and
with the going down of the sun the oars were once more thrown out, and
we resumed our weary voyage, all hands of us being equally anxious to
avail ourselves to the utmost of the comparatively cool hours of
darkness, to shorten, as much as possible, the distance that still
intervened between us and deliverance. All through the hot and
breathless night we toiled, in an unspeakable agony of thirst, and when
morning once more dawned out of a brilliant and cloudless sky, my
companions presented so wild and haggard an appearance, with their
cheeks sunken with famine and their eyes ablaze with the fever of thirst
and starvation, that they were scarcely recognisable. Half an hour
after sunrise we partook of our loathsome breakfast of putrid meat and
nauseous water, and then composed ourselves to sleep--if we could--
through the long hours of the blazing day, maintaining, however, a one-
man hourly watch, in order that we might be duly warned of any change in
the weather.
And, late that afternoon, a change came--a change of so welcome a
character that I believe I may, without exaggeration, say it saved our
lives. For, about noon, when I was aroused by the man on watch to get
the meridian altitude of the sun for the determination of the latitude,
I observed a bank of purple-grey clouds gathering in the south-western
quarter, their rounded edges as sharply denned as though they had been
cut out of paper. There was no mistaking their character; they
portended a thunderstorm. And a thunderstorm we had about four o'clock
that afternoon, of truly tropical violence. There was not a breath of
wind with it, but it brought us a perfect deluge of rain,--thrice-
welcome and blessed rain,--pouring from the overcharged clouds in sheets
of warm water, soft and sweet as nectar. We let not a drop escape us
that it was possible to save; we saw that it was coming, and prepared
for it by spreading the sails across the boat, and caught the welcome
stream in the depressions that we had arranged for its reception,
drinking out of the hollowed canvas until we could drink no more. Then,
as the rain still continued to fall, we did a desperate deed; we threw
away every drop of our drinking water, in the hope of being able to
refill our breakers with the sweet, fresh rain-water. And we were
successful. God in His infinite mercy allowed the floodgates of heaven
to remain open until we had filled every available receptacle at our
disposal; and then the rain ceased, the storm drifted away to the north-
eastward, and the sun disappeared below the horizon in a blaze of
cloudless splendour.
But our sufferings were not yet over; for now that the hellish torments
of thirst were assuaged, the pangs of hunger assailed us with redoubled
fury, hourly growing in intensity, until sometime during the night--
while Lindsay and I were asleep, and the boat was in charge of one of
the men--they became so utterly unendurable that, in a fit of madness,
the famished crew fell upon the slender remainder of our stock of
eatables, devouring the whole at one fell swoop, except Lindsay's and my
own portion, which, despite their famished condition, they loyally set
aside for us!
Another day of breathless calm; another twelve hours of scorching heat
under the rays of the pitiless sun; and then, with nightfall, the men
once more threw out their oars and resumed the heart-breaking task of
shortening by a few miles the still formidable stretch of ocean that lay
between us and safety. But nothing that we could say would induce a
single one of them to accept ever so small a share of the provisions
that they had apportioned as the share belonging to Lindsay and myself;
they declared that their last meal had so far satisfied and
reinvigorated them, that they were no longer hungry, while one or two of
them spoke hopefully of the possibility that they might catch a fish or
two on the morrow.
It was somewhere about ten o'clock that night that we detected the first
symptoms of another change in the weather, the first subtle indication
that the long period of calm which had so nearly destroyed us was about
to end. And, best of all, the indication was of such a character as
permitted us to indulge the hope that, although the calm was about to
give way to a breeze, we were likely to be favoured with weather fine
enough to permit of our pursuing our voyage under the most favourable
conditions. This symptom of approaching change merely consisted in the
gathering in the heavens of a thin veil of mottled, fine-weather cloud,
just dense enough to obscure most of the lesser stars and render the
night rather dark, while a few of the brighter stars peeped through the
openings between the clouds at tolerably frequent intervals, permitting
us to steer our course without having recourse to the lantern or
compass. The prospect of a coming breeze seemed to cheer the men and
endow them with renewed vigour, for they gave way with something like a
will, while they occasionally went so far as to exchange a muttered
ejaculation of encouragement one with another.
It happened to be my trick at the yoke-lines until midnight, I having
relieved young Lindsay at four bells. I was sitting in the stern-
sheets, with my eyes intently fixed upon a particularly bright star that
gleamed out through the clouds at frequent intervals right over the
boat's nose, at an altitude of about thirty degrees above the horizon,
and which I had consequently selected as a suitable guide to steer by.
It is a curious fact, well-known to sailors, that an object can be
better seen on a dark night at sea by looking at the sky slightly
_above_ or to one side of it, rather than directly _at_ it; hence it was
that, as I kept my eye intently fixed upon the star immediately ahead, I
suddenly became aware of the presence of a small, dark object some three
points on our starboard bow. I immediately looked straight at it, but
could then see nothing; whereupon I looked into the sky rather above the
point where I knew it to be, when I again caught sight of it. To make
quite sure, I sheered the boat some four points off her course, when it
became quite distinct, although only as a small, black, shapeless shadow
against the dark sky immediately ahead.
I held up my hand warningly to the men, and at the same moment gave the
order, "Oars!"
The men, somewhat wonderingly, instantly obeyed, staring hard at me
inquiringly, while two or three who were lying down in the bottom of the
boat, trying unavailingly to sleep, raised themselves upon their elbows,
as though to ascertain what was the matter.
"Lads," said I, in low, cautious tones, "not a sound, for your lives!
There is a small craft of some sort out there becalmed, and it is my
intention to run her alongside. But we cannot of course tell whether
she is a friend or an enemy, so I think it will be well for us to get
alongside without attracting the attention of her crew, if we can manage
it. If she proves to be a friend, well and good; but if she is an
enemy, we must take her at all costs; for we are in a starving
condition, as you are all aware, while we are still five days distant
from Bermuda, and I do not believe we could possibly live to reach the
island without provisions. So muffle your oars as well as you can; have
your cutlasses ready; and I will put you alongside. H-u-s-h! not a
sound! That craft is a good three miles away, but sounds travel far on
such a night as this, and we must not allow the crew of her to discover
that we are in their neighbourhood. Now muffle your oars, and we will
soon find out who and what she is."
Without a moment's hesitation, the men forthwith proceeded to muffle
their oars with portions of their clothing; and in another five minutes
we were heading for the small, dark blot. When we had been pulling
silently for about a quarter of an hour, a small, thin sound came
creeping across the water to us, that within another five minutes had
resolved itself into the strains of the Marseillaise played upon an
accordion and sung by a fairly good tenor voice, to which several others
were almost instantly added. That was sufficient; the craft, whatever
else she might be, was assuredly French, and we were relieved of the
anxiety of approaching a vessel uncertain as to whether she was friend
or foe. The song was sung through to the end with great enthusiasm, and
then, after a slight pause, another song was started, also French, so
far as could be made out. It was cut short, however, before a dozen
bars had been reached, by a hoarse, gruff voice loudly demanding, in
clear, unmistakable French, "what, in the name of all the saints, the
singer meant by arousing all hands at that hour of the night with his
miserable braying?" This rendered assurance doubly sure, and we
proceeded with increased caution--if that were possible--laying in all
but a single pair of oars, with the double object of resting the men as
much as possible prior to the attack, and at the same time approaching
our quarry slowly enough to allow her crew to coil away about the decks,
and go to sleep again if they would.
Paddling slowly and with the utmost circumspection, taking care that the
oars entered and left the water without the slightest splash, we were a
full hour and more traversing the distance that separated us from the
stranger; but long ere we reached her we had made her out to be a
schooner of somewhere about one hundred and forty tons, and by her taunt
spars, as well as by the fact of her being where she was,--nicely in the
track of our homeward-bound West Indiamen,--I judged her to be a
privateer. When first discovered she must have been lying nearly
broadside-on to us, but the swing of the swell gradually slewed her, as
we stealthily approached, until she presented her stern fairly at us,
affording us an admirable opportunity to get alongside her undetected.
And this we did, gliding up under her starboard quarter and alongside,
and actually climbing in on deck over her low bulwarks before the alarm
was raised. Then, from the neighbourhood of the wheel, there suddenly
arose a muttered execration in French, followed by a sharp inquiry in
the same language of, "Who goes there?"
"British," I answered, in the inquirer's own lingo. "Surrender, or we
will drive every man of you overboard!"
"The British! ah, sac-r-r-re! Yes, monsieur, oh yes, we surrender,"
gurgled the man, as I seized him by the throat and threatened him with
my cutlass, while Lindsay led the hands forward to the forecastle.
There were a few drowsily muttered ejaculations in that direction,
quickly succeeded by a volley of execrations, a scuffling of feet, the
slamming of the hatch over the fore-scuttle, and Lindsay sang out that
the schooner was ours. Even as he did so, two figures in rather scanty
clothing, rushed up on deck through the companion; and before I could
fully realise what was happening, one of them snapped his pistol at me,
while the other aimed a blow at my head with a sword. Fortunately the
bullet missed me, finding its billet in the body of the man whose throat
I still grasped, while I managed to catch the blow of the other fellow
on my own blade; and in a moment we were at it "hammer and tongs"--that
is to say, the swordsman and myself, the other fellow making a dash at
me now and then, aiming fierce blows at me with the butt-end of his
pistol, until, in self-defence, I seized my opportunity and cleft his
skull with my cutlass at the same instant that I launched out with my
left hand and sent his companion reeling to the deck with a blow planted
fairly between the eyes.
At this moment young Lindsay came rushing aft, with half a dozen of our
fellows at his heels, to know what was the matter; so, bidding a couple
of the men to securely bind the prisoners, I descended the companion
ladder, with Lindsay at my heels, to see whether there were any more
Frenchmen to be fought. There were not, however; the close, stuffy
little cabin was empty; so we went on deck again, and, leaving two men
to keep watch and ward at the after end of the ship, went forward, where
I personally superintended the operation of effectually securing the
crew, who we afterwards passed down into the hold. The cook, however,
we left free, and, being ravenously hungry, gave him orders to at once
light the galley fire and cook us the best meal the ship could afford,
all hands taking the keen edge off our appetites, meanwhile, by munching
some excellent biscuits that Lindsay discovered snugly stored away in
the pantry. Our next care was to hoist in the gig that had served us so
well; and, this done, we settled down to wait for our dinner and the
breeze that promised to come ere long.