fancy I could see, the Ocracoke Lighthouse. The wind had increased a
little with sunrise as usual in a northeaster, but it seemed to be
working a bit more to the northward and getting colder.
“It was just such a day as this. We hove the _Pocosin_ up when she was
almost in sight of the Capes and not ten hours’ run from Norfolk. But
she ware ramming her nose into it harder and harder, an’ there we was.
We couldn’t get no farther.
“It ware pretty bad when we started inshore, with the glass a-fallin’
an’ the sky like the inside of a lead pot. Then came the breeze and big
northeast sea what stopped us.
“We couldn’t push her through that sea. It was more’n common heavy, and
even with the whole mainsail on her she wouldn’t do a thing but rear up
on her hind legs an’ throw herself into it so she’d go out o’ sight to
her foremast. Man, she ware an’ old boat, an’ if she’d kept the racket
up she’d have split in two!
“We could see Cape Henry light by dark, but it warn’t no use, so we
wore around before it ware too late an’ got the foresail an’ jib stowed
safe. Then we came to on the port tack, lowering down the mainsail and
reefing it to balance the bit o’ staysail forrads. ’Twas a piece o’
work takin’ in that mainsail, an’ that’s the truth. You may search me
if it didn’t fair blow the hair off yer head by this time. I don’t mind
a bit o’ breeze, Cap’n, but when I say it ware blowin’ then, it aint
more’n half the truth. It ware fair howlin’.
“We got the sail on the boom, and then that same boom took charge for
twenty red-hot minutes while she threw it from port to starboard--an’
all hands hangin’ onto the mainsheet tryin’ to get it in when it
slacked with the throw.
“‘Balance-reef her,’ says the old man, an’ we lashed her down, givin’
about ten feet o’ leach rope hoisted taut with the peak downhaul
fast to windward. Then everything was made snug, an’ with the bit o’
staysail hauled to the mast we hung on to see what would happen next.”
Buck rose for a minute and gazed steadily to the southward as though he
had seen something. Then he settled down again.
“Me? I was mate, you know. I’d been with Richards over a year. He had
his wife an’ daughter aboard that trip--yessir--about as fine--she was
about seventeen.”
A sea struck the vessel while Buck was looking to leeward, but he paid
no attention to it as the spray filled his collar. He seemed to be
so deeply occupied in some object that I began to get a bit nervous,
and reached for the glasses to try and pick out a new danger. But he
evidently saw nothing, for he went on slowly after a bit.
“There were six of us men and a little coon boy in the galley. It gave
us three men in a watch, an’ that ware enough. I saw we were goin’ to
the south’ard fast, the sea was northerly yet, but the wind was working
fast to the eastward and we waren’t reaching off a little bit. She was
heavy with lumber an’ goin’ sideways like a crab--not shoving her nose
ahead like we are now. It was dead to leeward, and you know how that is
to the north’ard of Core Bank or Lookout.
“The old man had the wheel fast hard down and was standin’ there
watchin’ her take them seas. It was growing dark an’ them fellers
from the Gulf looked ugly. They just wiped her clean from end to end,
roarin’ over her an’ smotherin’ everything.
“‘We got to fight fer it to-night,’ said I. ‘Better try the
close-reefed mainsail before it’s too late. A bit o’ fore-reachin’ an’
we’ll clear.’
“‘’Twon’t stand,’ says he, ‘’twon’t stand ten minutes in this breeze.
Let her go. If she won’t go clear we’ll run her fer Ocracoke. It’s high
water at eight-bells to-night.’
“That may have been good judgment, but you know that entrance is a warm
place at night in a roarin’ northeaster. I got a bit nervous an’ spoke
up again after an hour or two.
“‘Better try her with the mainsail; we’ve got to fight her off,’ I said
again.
“‘’Taint no use,’ said he. ‘Let her go. A man never dies till his time
comes.’
“I’d heard that sayin’ before, but I never knew just how a feller could
reckon on his time. Seemed to me somebody’s was comin’ along before
daylight. Finally I kept on asking the old man an’ argufyin’--for there
was the two women--an’ he gave in. Before twelve that night we had her
under a single reef and shovin’ off for dear life. It ware blowin’
harder now, an’ the first thing away went that staysail. Then we tried
a bit o’ jib, but she gave a couple o’ plunges and drove her head under
a good fathom. When she lifted it up the jib ware gone.
“There we ware with the old hooker a-broachin’ to an’ no head sail on
her. The seas ware comin’ over her like a cataract and the dull roar
soundin’ louder an’ louder. There ware the two women below----
“Still the fight waren’t half over. Ther ware the new foresail to close
reef. It would have held an hour or two. That would have driven us off
far enough to have gone through the slue. But no. The old man had had
enough.
“‘Take in the mainsail,’ he bawled, and all hands wrastled for half
an hour with that sail while all the time we were goin’ fast to the
south’ard. ‘Close reef foresail,’ says he; ‘we’ll try an’ run her
through.’ Then he took the lashin’s off the wheel.
“There ware no use sayin’ nothin’ more. We ware hardly able to speak as
it was. We put the peak o’ that foresail on her an’ the old man ran the
wheel hard up. It ware near daybreak now, and she paid off an’ streaked
away before it through a roarin’ white sea. Just as she struck her gait
we saw the flash o’ the Hatteras Light.
“The old man saw it. It ware bright enough for all hands. So bright my
heart gave one big jump an’ then seemed to stop. There ware the two
women below, the girl--we tore along into the night with six men an’
one little black boy holdin’ on to anything they could an’ lookin’ out
over the jib-boom end----”
Buck was silent for a moment. Then he went on.
“It had to come. I saw it first. Just a great white spout o’ foam in
the blackness ahead. It ware the outer edge o’ the Diamond Shoal.”
Buck’s voice died away in the roar about us and close as I was to him
I could hear nothing he said, though I saw his lips move. I went
to the binnacle and peered into it. The lighthouse was drawing to
the westward. The roar aloft was deepening as she swung herself to
windward, but she was making good weather of it and holding on like
grim death.
“How did you get through?” I asked, ducking down again behind the
shelter.
“We didn’t. We didn’t get through. The _Pocosin’s_ there yet--or what’s
left of her. One more hour of fightin’ off under that reefed foresail
an’ we’d have got to sea--we’d have gone clear. There waren’t nothin’
happened--just a smashing crash in the night. Man, ye couldn’t hear or
see nothin’. Both masts gone with the first jolt, an’ up she broaches
to a sea what was breakin’ clear out in seven fathoms. I tried to get
aft--good God! I tried to get to the companion----”
Buck was looking steadily to leeward and the drift was trickling out of
his eyes.
When he turned he smiled and his tired face looked years older as
he wiped it with the cuff of his oilskin. The gale roared and snored
overhead, but breaks in the flying scud told that the storm-center was
working to the northward and the cold meant it would go to stay.
“I don’t know but what’s that’s so about a feller not goin’ till his
time comes, Cap’n. I came in the next day on a bit o’ the mainmast,
a little more dead than alive, but I’m tellin’ you fairly, Cap’n,
if it waren’t fer you an’ your little ship, I’d just as soon have
gone to leeward this mornin’. A feller gets sort o’ lonesome at
times--especially when he’s got no ties----”
“Haven’t you any?” I asked cheerfully.
Buck looked slowly up and his eyes met mine. They rested there for a
moment. His lips moved for a little, but I heard nothing he said. Then
he let his gaze droop to the deck planks and bowed his head.
A long time he sat there while I watched the lighthouse draw more and
more to the westward. Suddenly he looked up.
“She’s all clear now, sir, an’ if you say so I’ll go below an’ start a
bit o’ fire.”
“Go ahead, and tell Arthur to come here?” I said.
I watched him as he staggered below. He was tired out, wet, and
despondent. The fate of the _Pocosin_ was too evident for me to ask
questions. I respected him for not mentioning the girl again. It was
evident what she had been to him. It was long ago, but the memory was
fresh before him. He was passing near the grave of the one woman he had
loved, and there was more than the salt drift in his eyes as he went
down the companion. In a few minutes a stream of black smoke poured
from the funnel in the deck and was whirled away to leeward. Soon
the smell of frying bacon was swept aft, and I went below to a warm
breakfast to be followed by a nap, while the plunging little vessel
rode safely into the great Gulf sea. We had gone past the graveyard of
the Diamond Shoals.
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant
preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
quotation marks retained.
Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained; occurrences of
inconsistent hyphenation have not been changed.
Chapter names have been combined with the illustrations preceding
the chapters.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Strife of the Sea, by T. Jenkins Hains