"No, no, sir. You wouldn't wish me to go and take service with any
strangers in these foreign parts; and in the old country there's no home
for me now--all those who made it home are gone. No, no, sir, you'd not
wish me to leave you."
"Certainly not, my lad; but I thought that you might be afraid of going
on," I remarked.
"Afraid when I am with you, sir!" he exclaimed, in a tone which showed
how much his feelings were hurt at the supposition. "No, no, sir; I'll
stick by you through thick and thin, now and ever, till you turn me
away."
I was sure that Peter felt what he said, and setting as I do a high
value on a faithful friend, however humble he may be, I assured him that
he need be under no apprehension that I should part with him without his
consent.
This tranquillised him, and he seemed at once to become reconciled to
his life on the heaving wave.
I soon discovered that the _Weathercock_ was far from deserving the
character which her agents gave her of a fine clipper sea-boat, and that
Captain Parsons was a different sort of person to what he had been
described. He was not drunk when he came on board, but he very soon got
so; and if he turned out sober in the morning, he took care very quickly
to reduce himself to a condition of utter indifference to all sublunary
affairs. As may be supposed, therefore, he did not make a very direct
course for his destination.
While the weather remained fine, this did not so much signify, as a day
or two more at sea was of little consequence to me, and I knew that we
could not well miss the yellow water at the mouth of the Mississippi;
but should it come on to blow--no impossible contingency--we should, I
saw, be placed in a very unpleasant predicament. Still there was no
help for it; the skipper would not have put back had I asked him, but
very likely, in a drunken fit, might have blown my brains out, or
pitched Peter overboard.
The mate was likely to prove a more formidable opponent. He was a huge
Mulatto, with a villainous expression of countenance. From my first
stepping on board, he seemed to have taken a dislike to me. It might
have been because he saw that I was a man not likely to stand nonsense.
He dared not show it to me, however; but whenever he had an opportunity,
I saw that he gave Peter a cuff and Ready a kick, which, as may be
supposed, secured the latter as an enemy, though poor Peter was too
kind-hearted to indulge in ill-feeling towards any human being. Sam
Snag, the fellow was called, and he tyrannised over the crew, who dared
not disobey his least command, and even the captain held him in awe, and
disliked him; but they were necessary to each other. Sam Snag, though a
good seaman, knew nothing of navigation, and therefore could not get the
command of a vessel, and so he had to ship as mate, and preferred
serving with a man like Parsons, whom he could govern, rather than with
one who would govern him.
Why the mate had allowed the captain to get as drunk as he was puzzled
me. I could not help suspecting that he had some sinister object in
view.
Three days had passed since we left Galveston, and the only notable fact
with regard to our navigation was, that, though we had lost sight of the
land, we had made very little progress. There lay the vessel on the
glassy shining sea, her sails flapping idly, but with now and then loud
reports, against the masts. The captain was perfectly contented, and
rather amiably-disposed towards me; for, as he sat in his little hot,
stifling cabin--the atmosphere of which could not have been much under a
hundred degrees--he sent his boy to ask me to come and liquor with him,
and began to be very abusive when I declined the honour.
"That sneaking, white-haired, milksop of a Britisher--what business has
he to refuse my civilities, I should like to know? It's his natural
pride, I guess, but I'll pull it down a peg or two before I've done with
him, I guess," I heard him muttering as I sat reading on deck near the
skylight under the shade of the mainsail.
He continued to drink and growl on, and as he got more and more drunk,
he confused me with Snag, and abused both of us. From the language he
occasionally used, and one or two expressions he let fall, I suspected
that the unhappy man had fallen from a higher position in society to
that which he now occupied. Now he quoted a line of Latin or Greek, and
now he spoke in some Oriental language, Hindostanee or Arabic, I
fancied, and swore in it fiercely, and then gave way to fits of idiotic
laughter. Yes, I was certain that man had ranked as a gentleman, and
now in appearance and manners he was the veriest brute under the sun.
"That's what drink has done for him," I said to myself: "or crime, and
then drink to drown conscience; or probably drink produced the crime,
and then, instead of repentance, came the more drink, that he might try
and forget the crime. I am not in a pleasant position with the
companionship of a set of ruffians. However, I have been in many a
scrape before, and have got out of them. I hope that I may get out of
this as well as I have done out of others."
As the day grew on, however, I became more anxious. The heat increased
until it became almost unnatural and utterly insupportable, and the sky
assumed a lurid, brazen hue, which struck me as indicative of an
approaching hurricane, or a gale of some sort. I observed the seamen
casting anxious glances every now and then at the horizon, but no move
was made among them to do anything; the mate was below asleep, and the
master was too drunk by this time to know whether the sky was
copper-colour, black, or blue, or to care what might become of the ship
and all on board.
At last, having thought over all the descriptions I had read of
hurricanes, I myself began to grow uneasy, and resolved to summon the
mate, though I knew that I ran the risk of a quarrel in consequence. I
put my head down the companion-hatch, and called out his name two or
three times. The stifling air which came up from below made me
unwilling to descend. The mate did not reply. He must be sleeping very
soundly, I thought, or else he does not choose to answer. Peter,
finding he did not appear, without my leave sprang down below, saying,
as he did so, "I'll rouse him up a bit, sir."
"I say, mate--Mister Snag--wake up, will you? Wake up, Mister Snag," I
heard him sing out.
There was no reply for a minute, and then came a cry of pain and terror,
and poor Peter reappeared faster than he had gone down, with an
expression of alarm on his countenance, followed by the mate, who had a
thick colt in his hand, with which he was accustomed to belabour any of
the crew who offended him.
"For what you make all dat row?" he exclaimed fiercely, turning to me
with a threatening gesture.
"To wake you up, and remind you of your duty," I answered, in as calm a
tone as I could command. "Look out there; what do you say to that sky?"
The mate gave a hurried glance round the horizon. He did not answer me,
but he shouted--
"Aloft, all of ye! Furl the topsails. Let fly topgallants sheets.
Here, you--Britisher, go to the helm, and do as I bid you. You, white
boy, stand by those ropes."
There was no time for further orders. The men flew aloft. They knew
what ought to be done; but before they could do it the hurricane burst
us. With desperate energy they attempted to gather in the furiously
flapping canvas. As Snag directed I turned round the spokes of the
wheel, and as the ship's head was providentially pointing in the
direction towards which the hurricane blew, away she flew before it,
like a bird just escaping from the nets of the fowler. Had this not
been the case, she would probably have instantly been thrown on her
beam-ends. I had to exert all my strength to turn the wheel. I kept my
eye on Snag, for not a word could I hear, as he rushed from rope to
rope, hauling away with Peter on some, and letting go others.
The sails flapped and struggled with claps like thunder, as the blast
caught them, till the vexed canvas tore itself out of the bolt-ropes.
The masts bent and trembled, the yards strained and cracked. I looked
up for a moment; I knew that the poor fellows aloft were in instant
peril of their lives. They clung desperately to the yielding yards--
clung for their lives--for the rent sails lashed furiously round them,
and they scarcely dared to loose their hold for an instant to move in
towards the masts. Most of them had lost their hats or caps, their hair
was streaming out, their eyeballs starting from their heads.
A wild shriek reached my ears, even through the terrific din of the
tempest. I caught a glimpse of the outer man on the fore-topsail-yard
as the leech of the sail, torn to ribbons, coiled itself like some huge
serpent round him, and tore him from his hold. In vain he tried to
regain his hold, in vain to extricate himself--no human power could
avail him. Helplessly he stretched out his arms; the fierce wind
unloosened the coil of canvas, and, though grasping at a rope which
eluded his hand, he was flung into the seething waters through which the
brig was rushing onwards. For one instant I caught a sight of his
countenance, as, still desperately struggling for life, he dropped
astern, while the vessel flew by him. The mate saw what had happened,
but took not the slightest notice. I thought Peter would have jumped
overboard in his eagerness to try and save the man. He threw a rope,
but it was utterly useless. Even had the poor wretch caught it, it
would have been torn out of his hands. When Peter was certain that the
man was hopelessly lost, I saw him wring his hands in sorrow, and he was
evidently giving utterance to his feelings in words, though what he said
of course I could not hear.
Even the gale did not bring the wretched master to his senses, but I
fancied that I could hear him singing, or rather howling away in his
drunken madness, keeping up a wild concert with the creaking of the
bulkheads, the rattling of the blocks, the whistling of the wind through
the rigging, and the loud roar of the rising seas, as they dashed
against the sides of the vessel. The mate, to do him justice, was the
only man of the whole crew who remained calm and collected. How he
might have behaved aloft I do not know; still I think he would have been
the same. He soon saw that it was impossible for the men to furl the
canvas--or, rather, that there was no canvas left for them to furl. He
made a signal to them to come down off the yards. It was not given too
soon. Some obeyed, and slid down on deck, but before the last two on
the main topsail-yard were off it, the main-top mast, which had already
been bending ready to crack, gave way and went over the side, carrying
the rigging, and the yard, and the two men on it, overboard. They were
not shaken off, but still they clung with all the energy of despair to
the spar. It was but for a moment. There were several loud cracks,
some ropes gave way, the bolts which secured the shrouds to the side
were drawn, and the whole mass of rigging, parting from the side,
floated astern. In vain the men shrieked for help; in vain they held
out their hands to us imploringly; no help could be given them, their
fate might presently be ours.
The next minute the fore-topmasts went over the side, and the fore-yard
came down with a crash on deck, carrying away the bulwarks, and crushing
a man who had just descended from aloft, and thought he was in safety.
There he lay writhing under it, and unable to extricate himself. I
would have hurried to his assistance, but I dared not leave the helm,
and Snag and the other men were so engaged in clearing the rest of the
wreck, that they could make no attempt to lift up the yard so as to
release him. It was dreadful to watch the poor fellow, as, with the
movement of the ship, the heavy yard rolled on his broken limbs,
inflicting the most excruciating torture. He shrieked out in his agony,
entreating his companions either to release him or to put an end to his
sufferings with a crowbar--so Peter told me, for his voice was borne far
away from me on the wings of the hurricane. Peter, as soon as he saw
what had occurred, in spite of the gestures of the mate ordering him to
remain where he was, hurried forward. Still his whole strength could
not, of course, move the spar; but getting hold of a handspike, he was
able to prevent it from rolling over the man as often as before. Every
moment the sea was rising, and as the vessel pitched more and more, the
difficulty of keeping the yard off the man became greater.
At last the wreck, by means of axes and knives was cleared, and the mate
had no longer on excuse for neglecting the seaman who lay under the
yard. With careless indifference he directed the other men how to lift
the spar so as to drag out the sufferer.
"He's of no further use," he exclaimed (so Peter told me) when he saw
the injury the man had received. "May as well heave him overboard at
once. We can't mend broken legs here."
"Oh, no; no, don't now!" shrieked the poor wretch, who was probably not
aware of the extent to which he was hurt. "I shall soon be well. I'll
work; I'll work. Oh spare me!--spare! I am not fit to die! I'll get
well and work. Will nobody save me? I can't die; I mustn't die!"
"That's what many more say, but it's of no use," growled out the mate.
Peter told me that on hearing this he could not help saying:
"Well, if you throw that poor fellow overboard while he's got life in
him, you may as well throw me and my master; for as sure as ever we get
into port, we'll go and tell the magistrate of you."
The mate, with a look of surprise, gave a scornful laugh, but allowed
Peter to draw the wounded man on one side, while he and the crew secured
the spar, and passed life-lines forward where the bulwarks had been
carried away.
I witnessed all that was taking place from my post aft, and as the mate
saw that I could steer the vessel properly, he did not think fit to
relieve me. I shouted to him over and over again to send a hand to the
helm, but he either did not, or would not, hear me. As to where I was
steering I had little conception. All I knew was that I was keeping the
ship's head away from the wind, for I had not thought of looking at the
compass at first, and a block had fallen from aloft and broken in the
binnacle.
The mate, I knew, was as ignorant as I was, and should the master not
recover his senses, I suspected that we should have some difficulty in
finding our way to New Orleans. There was a vast deal still to be done
in getting the ship as much to rights as circumstances would allow, and,
to do the mate justice, he worked himself, and made all under him work
also.
On the ship flew under the bare stumps of the masts--they, I expected,
would go next, as there were no shrouds to support them. The tortured,
foaming waters rose higher and higher as the hurricane increased in
strength and had longer time to affect them; and the higher the seas
rose, the more the ship laboured, and the more difficult it was to
steer, till my arms ached with the exertion, and I felt that if not
relieved I must leave my post.
I shouted--I beckoned--to Snag, but though I was certain he saw me, he
took no notice of my signs. At last Peter found his way to me, not
without difficulty, and I sent him forward to summon one of the crew.
The mate guessed his errand, and received him with a kick, and an order
to tell me to remain where I was and make myself useful. Life is sweet,
and we cling to it as long as we can; or otherwise, under the belief
that the ship was hurrying to destruction, I should have thrown myself
on deck, and let her broach to, which would probably at once have
brought about the catastrophe. I was directing Peter to go back and
help the poor wounded man, to drag him aft, if possible, and to get him
down below, when there was a cry from forward. A huge sea came rolling
up alongside, and (whether or not from my bad steering, I do not know)
it broke on board, and, sweeping across the fore part of the deck,
carried in its grasp all it reached. Two of the crew could be seen for
an instant battling with the foaming seas, as if there was a possibility
of their regaining the ship.
When once more the deck was free of water, the poor wounded man had
disappeared. "He was surely taken in mercy, for his sufferings would
otherwise have been fearful," I said to myself. I was now glad to get
Peter's assistance, which he willingly gave; while honest Ready lay at
my feet, looking up every now and then into my face, and saying in his
own peculiar language, "Master, I wish that I could help you; but I
couldn't, I know--not if I was to try ever so much." But Ready could be
of use, even on board ship. Another huge sea came up, and this time,
striking the quarters, it deluged the whole after-part of the vessel. I
clung to the wheel, but Peter, less prepared, lost his hold of the
wheel, and was carried away. Ready, instantly comprehending his danger,
dashed after him, and seizing on the leg of his trousers as he lay
thrown on his back, with the certainty of either being washed overboard
or drowned in the lee-scuppers, dragged him up out of the water, and
held him tight, till at length the mate, if not for my sake, for that of
the ship, came aft to the wheel, and I was able to go to the rescue of
my faithful follower.
Snag, though unconcerned for the loss of our companions, could not
conceal from himself the danger we were in, and the probability that
before long their fate would overtake him. He was as fierce and
sulky-looking as before; but he said nothing, and I made no mark
calculated to provoke his anger. The crew had done all that was
possible for the safety of the ship, and the remnant now gathered under
the after-bulwarks, awaiting what was next to happen.
The hatches had been put on, or they might possibly have gone below and
turned into their berths--there to await their fate, as I have known
seamen do. Night was coming on; but even that could scarcely add to the
horrors of our position, except that perhaps darkness might render
steering more difficult. As the mate stood alone at the helm in the
gloom of evening, his hair, which was long, streaming in the wind, his
neck bare, his dark countenance expressive of fierce and bad passions,
his tall figure, the upper part of which was scarcely hid by the shirt--
the only garment he wore besides his loose trousers--I thought that I
had never seen a more perfect impersonification of some evil spirit. I
scarcely, even now, like to recall the horrors of that night: the last
sight on which my eyes rested was that demon-looking man steering the
shattered vessel--amid the howling of the winds, the roaring of the
seas--as it appeared, to inevitable destruction. Peter, Ready, and I
crouched together under the bulwarks, holding on by lines secured to
ring-bolts in the deck, and drenched by the seas which were constantly
breaking over us. The darkness increased till it was impossible to see
across the deck; nor could I even distinguish those nearest to me. The
roaring waters continued sounding in my ears: frequently I felt myself
under them as they broke over the ship; again I felt as if I could not
possibly hold on longer, but with desperation I clutched the rope as the
seas washed by, and had to be thankful that I had for the moment escaped
the death which threatened me. Peter's shout, close to my ear, of "All
right, sir," assured me that he and Ready had also escaped; for both
were hanging on to the same rope, the latter holding it by his teeth
with might and main, evidently as sensible as we were of the perilous
position in which we were placed.
Hour after hour passed by, and no change occurred in the dreary monotony
of that night of horror. I think that I must have dropped asleep for an
instant, strange as that may seem; for a feeling of indifference as to
what might happen had stolen over me, and unconsciousness of the
present, when I was startled by the cry of "She's sprung a leak!--she's
sinking! We are lost--we are lost!"
The voice of the mate was heard, even above the hurricane. "Lost! Who
says we're lost?" he shouted. "We shall not be lost if you'll work like
men. All hands to the pumps!"
The dismasted vessel flew on as rapidly as before through the foaming,
tossing seas. The crew laboured at the pumps, the mate swearing
furiously at them, when, as at times, they stopped to rest. Then again
they pumped away till one of them cried out, in a tone of obstinate
despair:
"The leak is gaining on us; we can pump no more." Again the mate swore,
and threatened them with death if they did not persist.
Suddenly, while the mate and the crew together were shouting and
swearing at each other, there came a fearful crash; the ship trembled in
every timber; another and another crash followed; the roaring sea washed
over the vessel; now she lifted, and then down she came with yet more
fearful force than before, and every plank and timber seemed rent
asunder.