It was a dismal sight. As far as the eye could reach through the white
haze of the flying drift the ocean presented a dirty steel-gray color,
torn into long, ragged streaks of white where the combers rolled on the
high seas before the gale. Overhead all was a deep blank of gray vapor.
The wind was not blowing nearly as hard as it had during my last watch on
deck, but the sea was rolling heavier. It took the _Pirate_ fair on the
port bow, and every now and again it rose so high above her topgallant
rail that it showed green light through the mass that would crash over to
the deck and go roaring white to leeward, making the main deck
uninhabitable. Sometimes a heavy, quick comber would strike her on the
bluff of the bow, and the shock would almost knock the men off their
feet. Then the burst of water would shoot high in the air, going
sometimes clear to the topgallant yard, nearly a hundred feet above the
deck, while all forward would disappear in the flying spray and spume.
"Fine weather, Rolling, hey?" bawled the skipper to me as I gained the
poop.
"Oh, it isn't so bad the way she's taking it now. If she hangs on as
well as this during the watch, she'll make good weather of it all
right," I said.
"I'm glad you think so, my son. Just call down to the steward to bring me
a bracer. Whew, just look at that!"
As he spoke a huge sea rose on the weather bow and bore down on the
staggering ship. It struck her fair and rolled over her so heavily that I
had to grab a line to keep from being knocked down. The main deck was
full of water, and as it roared off through the ports and over the lee
rail, I looked to see if anything had gone with it. Then I realized how
well we had been washed during the night.
From the forecastle aft to the poop there was nothing left except the
hatches and deck-house. The boats were all stove to matchwood except one
that was lashed on the forward house. The bulwarks were smashed for many
feet along both sides, but this was no real damage, as it allowed the sea
to run off easier, relieving the deck of the heavy load. The whole main
deck, fore and aft, was as clean stripped as could be, and the hatches
alone were saving us from filling and going under.
It was a dismal sight, and the men who stood huddled on the
forecastle and poop looked, in their yellow oilskins, like so many
yellow ghosts. I went aft to the wheel and found that Hans and
Johnson were steering without much difficulty, although they had all
they could do to hold her when a sea struck aft. Far astern the light
seemed to be growing brighter, and while I looked there appeared some
long streaks in the heavy banks of vapor which showed a break or two.
I took the glass which hung on the side of the grating and cleaned
the lens with my hand. Sweeping the storm-torn horizon to the
southward, nothing showed but rolling seas and haze. I turned the
glass to the northward, and in a moment I saw a black speck rise and
then disappear from the line of vision.
"Vessel to lor'ard, sir," I bawled to the captain.
"I don't care for forty vessels, Rolling. Get me that steward with the
liquor, or there'll be one afloat here without a second mate."