The sun sank below the horizon that evening in a blaze of ruby and gold.
It flooded the whole ocean to the westward, right up to the very zenith,
with a wealth of opalescent light that transformed sea and sky alike
into a living glory, so grand and glorious was the glowing harmony of
kaleidoscopic colouring which lit up the arc of heaven and the wide
waste of water beneath, stretching out and afar beyond ken. Aye, and a
colouring, too, that changed its hue each instant with marvellous
rapidity, tint alternating with tint, and tone melting into tone in
endless succession and variety!
Throughout the day the weather had looked more than threatening. From
an early hour of the morning the wind had been constantly veering and
shifting, showing a strong inclination to back; and now the sea was
getting up and the white horses of Neptune had already begun to gambol
over the crests of the swelling billows, which heaved up and down as
they rolled onward with a heavy moaning sound, like one long, deep-drawn
sigh!
It looked as if the old monarch below, angered by the teasing of the
frolicsome zephyrs, was gradually working himself up into a passion,
which would vent itself, most probably, ere long in a much more telling
fashion than by this melancholy moan, so different to the sea-god's
usual voice of thunder!
Yes, it looked threatening enough in all conscience!
A brisk breeze had been blowing from the nor'-east before breakfast, but
this had subsequently shifted to the nor'ard at noon, veering back
again, first to the nor'-east and then to due east in the afternoon.
The wind freshened as the hours wore on, being now accompanied towards
sunset by frequent sharp gusts, a sign betokening plainly enough to a
seaman's eye that something stiffer was brewing up for us by-and-by.
Glancing over the side, I noticed that our brave vessel, the _Star of
the North_, was becoming very uneasy.
She was running under her jib and foresail, with fore-topsail and fore-
topgallantsail, being only square rigged forwards, like most ocean
steamers; but, in order to save coals and ease the engines, the skipper
had set the fore and main trysails with gaff-topsails and staysails as
well, piling on every rag he could spread.
With this press of canvas topping her unaccustomed hull, the poor old
barquey heeled over more and more as the violent gusts caught her
broadside-on at intervals, rolling, too, a bit on the wind fetching
round aft; while, her stern lifting as some bigger roller than usual
passed under her keel, the screw would whiz round aimlessly in mid air,
from missing its grip of the water, "racing," as sailors say in their
lingo, with a harsh grating jar that set my teeth on edge, and seemed to
vibrate through my very spinal marrow as I stood for a moment on the
line of deck immediately over the revolving shaft.
At the same time also that the afterpart of the vessel rose up on the
breast of one billowy mountain, her forefoot in turn would come down
with a resonant "thwack" into the valley intervening between this roller
and the next, the buoyant old barquey dipping her bows under and giving
the star-crowned maiden with golden ringlets, that did duty for her
figurehead, an impromptu shower bath as she parted the indignant waves
with her glistening black hull, sending them off on either hand with a
contemptuous "swish" on their trying in mad desperation to leap on
board, first to port and then to starboard, as the ship listed in her
roll.
It was, however, but a vain task for these mad myrmidons of Neptune to
attempt, strive as recklessly as they might in their wrath, for the good
ship spurned them with her forefoot and the star-crowned maiden bowed
mockingly to them from her perch above the bobstay, laughing in her glee
as she rode over them triumphantly and sailed along onward; and so the
baffled roysterers were forced to fall back discomforted from their rash
onslaught, swirling away in circling eddies aft, where, anon, the cruel
propeller tossed and tore them anew with its pitiless blades--ever
whirling round with painful iteration to the music of their monotonous
refrain, "Thump-thump, Thump-thump," and ever churning up the already
seething sea into a mass of boiling, brawling, bubbling foam that spread
out astern of us in a broad shimmering wake in the shape of a lady's
fan, stretching backward on our track as far as the eye could see and
flashing out sparks of fire as it glittered away into the dim distance,
like an ever-widening belt of diamonds fringed with pearls.
The SS _Star of the North_ was a large schooner-rigged cargo steamer,
strongly built of iron in watertight compartments, and of nearly two
thousand horsepower, but working up, under pressure, of nearly half as
much again on a pinch, having been originally intended for the passenger
trade.
She belonged to one of the great ocean lines that run between Liverpool
and New York, and was now on her last outward trip for the year and
rapidly nearing her western goal--the Fastnet light--and, according to
our reckoning when we took the sun at noon, in latitude 42° 35 minutes
North, and longitude 50° 10 minutes West, that is, just below the banks
of Newfoundland, our course to our American port having been a little
more southerly than usual for the season. This was in consequence of
Captain Applegarth, our skipper, wishing, as I said before, to take
advantage of the varying winds of the northern ocean as much as
possible, so as to economise his steam-power and limit our consumption
of fuel; for freights "across the herring-pond," as the Yankees call it,
are at a very low ebb nowadays, and it is naturally a serious
consideration with shipowners how to make a profit out of the carrying
trade without landing themselves in the bankruptcy court. So, they have
to cut down their working expenses to the lowest point practicable with
efficiency, where "full speed" all the way is not a vital necessity--as
in the case of the mail steamers and first-class passenger ships of
enormous steam-power and corresponding speed, which, of course, run up a
heavy coal bill, for they always "carry on" all they can to and fro
across the Atlantic, accomplishing the passage now between Queenstown
and Sandy Hook, veritable greyhounds of the ocean that they are, within
the six days, all told, from land to land. Aye, and even this "record"
promises to be beaten in the near future.
Prior to our leaving Liverpool on this voyage, the very day before we
sailed, in fact, greatly to my surprise and satisfaction, as may be
imagined, I was made fourth officer, the owners having unexpectedly
promoted me from the position of "apprentice," which I had filled up to
our last run home without any thought of so speedy a "rise." Of course
I had to thank my old friend Captain Applegarth for my good fortune,
though why the skipper thus spoke up for me I'm sure I cannot say, for I
was very young to hold such a subordinate post, having only just turned
my seventeenth year, besides being boyish enough in all conscience, and
beardless, too, at that! But, be that as it may, fourth officer I was
at the time of which I write.