THE BREEZE.
The spectacle on deck was appalling, and the sounds were appalling also.
The blast rushed by with a deep ground note which rose in pitch to a
yell as the gust hurled itself through the cordage; each sea that came
down seemed likely to be the last, but the sturdy yacht--no floating
chisel was she--ran up the steep with a long, slow glide, and smashed
into the black hollow with a sharp explosive sound. Marion Dearsley
might have been pardoned had she shown tremors as the flying mountains
towered over the vessel. Once a great black wall heaved up and doubled
the intensity of the murky midnight by a sinister shade; there came a
horrible silence, and then, with a loud bellow, the wall burst into ruin
and crashed down on the ship in a torrent which seemed made up of a
thousand conflicting streams. The skipper silently dashed aft, flung his
arms round Tom Lennard, and pinned him to the mast; Mr. Blair hung on,
though he was drifted aft with his feet off the deck until he hung like
a totally new description of flying signal; the ladies were drenched by
the deluge which rushed down below, and the steward, when he saw the
water swashing about over his cabin floor, exclaimed with discreet
bitterness on the folly of inviting ladies to witness such a spectacle
as a North Sea gale.
Tom observed: "The grandeur is--ah! fahscinating, but it's rather damp
grandeur. It's only grandeur fit for heroes. Give me all my grandeur
dry, if you please."
"Yes, sir," said the streaming skipper, "that was a near thing for you
and me when she shipped it. If I hadn't been on the right side of the
mast, both on us must have gone." Dawn rose slowly; the sky became
blotched with snaky tints of dull yellow and livid grey; the gale kept
on, and the schooner was hove-to to meet a sea of terrifying speed and
height. Two of the ladies were below, only craving to be left alone even
by the stewardess; but the hideous fascination of the storm drew Marion
Dearsley again and again, and she sheltered herself under the hatch, and
looked with awe at the mad turmoil which could be seen astern. Here and
there, far up on the rushing sides of the foaming mountains, stray
smacks hung like specks; the schooner shipped very little water now, and
Ferrier kept the deck with some difficulty. Events succeeded each other
with the terrifying suddenness of shocking dreams, and when the skipper
said, "Thank God for a good vessel under us, sir; many a good man has
gone to meet his Maker this night," Ferrier had quite a new sensation,
which I might almost say approached terror, were I not writing about an
absolutely courageous fellow.
Still the series of moving accidents went on. A smack hove up under the
stern of the schooner, and our skipper said gravely, "That Brixham man's
mad to try sailing that vessel. If one puff comes any harder than the
last, he'll be hove down." Then the skipper turned to look forward, and
Ferrier followed him. A low, strangled moan made them both start and
look down the companion. Marion Dearsley, pointing with convulsively
rigid arm, exclaimed, "The vessel--oh, the poor men!"
That smack was hove down, and her mainsail was held by the weight of
water.
"I expect we must carry away something, but I'm going down to him. Jump
to the wheel, sir, and cast that lashing. When I wave, shove it hard
a-starboard. That way, sir. The men and I must manage forrad. You must
go below at once, Miss. Jim, shove those bolts in."
There was a shock, and Ferrier thought the mainsheet had parted; then
three strongish seas hit the schooner until she shuddered and rolled
under the immense burden. It was a fearful risk, but the vessel freed
herself and drove to the smack. One man was hanging on over the
starboard side which was hove up; the schooner swept on in cruel danger,
and the skipper might well look stern and white. "We sha'n't save it,"
he growled. Then Ferrier groaned, "Oh, God," for the keel of the smack
at last heaved up, and she went down, down, slowly down, while her
copper showed less and less, till the last fatal sea completed the work
of wrath and ruin.
Ferrier felt that sensation of sickness which I have so often seen shown
by strong men. The skipper said: "We'll heave her to again. You'd better
get below. Your pluck's all right, but an unlucky one might catch you,
and you ain't got the knack of watching for an extra drop o' water same
as us."
Lewis Ferrier went below and found all his friends looking anxious.
Indeed, the clamour was deafening, and the bravest man or woman had good
reason for feeling serious. Marion Dearsley looked at Ferrier with
parted lips, and he could see that she was unable to speak; but her
eyes made the dread inquiry which he expected. He bowed his head, and
the girl covered her face with a tearing sob: "Oh, the fatherless! O
Lord, holy and true, how long? Bless the fatherless!" The poor prostrate
ladies in the further cabin added their moanings to that dreadful wail,
and you may guess that no very cheerful company were gathered in that
dim saloon. Of course they would have been swamped had not the skylights
been covered in, and the low light was oppressive. At six in the morning
the skipper came with a grin and beckoned Mr. Blair into the crew's
cabin.
"I pretended to laugh, sir," said he, "but it's not quite laughing now.
The fog's coming over, and we're just going into cloud after cloud of
it. Don't let either of the ladies peep up again on any account. I'm
afeared o' nothing but collision, but it's regular blind man's holiday
when one o' them comes down."
"I'll see my sister right, Freeman, and I'll come and try if I can have
a peep from your ladder." Then Blair saw a thing which always seems
more impressive than anything else that can be witnessed at sea--except,
perhaps, a snowstorm. A mysterious portent came rolling onward; afar off
it looked like a pale grey wall of inconceivable height, but as it drew
nearer, the wall resolved itself into a wild array of columns, and
eddies, and whirlpools, and great full-bosomed clouds, that rolled and
swam and rose and fell with maddening complexity. Then came a breath of
deadly chillness, and then a horror of great darkness--a darkness that
could be felt. The skipper himself took to the fore rigging, and placed
one of the watch handy to the wheel; finally he called all hands up very
quietly, and the men hung on anyhow. One drift after another passed by
in dim majesty, and the spectacle, with all its desolation, was one
never to be forgotten. After half an hour or so, Blair glanced up and
noticed a dim form sliding down the shrouds; then the skipper rushed
aft, for the helmsman could not see him, and then came a strange dark
cloud of massive texture looming through the delirious dance of the
fog-wreaths. First a flare was tried, then the bell was rung with
trebled vigour.
"Down below, sir, and call all up. He's yawed into us."
Blair saw the shape of a large vessel start out in desperate closeness;
and running through to the saloon, cried quickly, "All up on deck!
Ferrier, Fullerton, Tom, lend a hand with the ladies."
A yell was heard above; the poor sick folk came out in piteously thin
wrappings, moaning as they walked, and all the company got on deck just
in time to see a big barque go barely clear.
The youngest girl fainted, and Marion Dearsley attended to her with a
steady coolness that earned the admiration of her assistant--the doctor.
The serried ranks of the wreaths ceased to pour on, and the worn-out
landsfolk went below.
Right on into the next night the unwearied gale blew; significant lumps
of wreckage drifted past the schooner, and two floating batches of
fish-boxes hinted at mischief. The frightful sea made it well-nigh
impossible for those below to lie down with any comfort; they hardly had
the seaman's knack of saving themselves from muscular strain, and they
simply endured their misery as best they could. The yelling of wind and
the volleying of tortured water made general conversation impossible;
but Tom went from one lady to another and uttered ear-splitting howls
with a view of cheering the poor things up. Indeed, he once described
the predicament as distinctly fahscinating, but this example of poetic
license was too much even for Thomas, and he withdrew his remark in the
most parliamentary manner. Ferrier was more useful; his resolute,
cheerful air, the curt, brisk coolness of his chance remarks, were
exactly what were wanted to reassure women, and he did much to make the
dreary day pass tolerably. His services as waiter-general were admirably
performed, and he really did more by resolute helpfulness than could
have been done by any quantity of exhortation. He ventured to take a
long view at sundown, and he found the experience saddening. The
enormous chequered floor of the sea divided with turbulent sweep two
sombre hollow hemispheres. Lurid red, livid blue, cold green shone in
the sky, and were reflected in chance glints of horror from the spume of
the charging seas. Cold, cold it was all round; cold where the lowering
black cloud hung in the east; cold where the west glowed with dull
coppery patches; cold everywhere; and ah! how cold in the dead men's
graves down in the darkling ooze! Ferrier was just thinking, "And the
smacksmen go through this all the winter long!" when the skipper came
up.
"It'll blow itself out now, sir, very soon, and a good job. We've had
one or two very near things, and I never had such an anxious time since
I came to sea."
"I suppose we didn't know the real danger?"
"Not when we shipped that big 'un sir. However, praise the Lord, we're
all safe, and I wish I could say as much for our poor commerades. It'll
take two days to get the fleet together, and then we shall hear more."
At midnight a lull became easily perceptible, and the bruised, worn-out
seafarers gathered for a little while to hold a prayer-meeting after
their fashion. They were dropping asleep, but they offered their thanks
in their own simple way; and when Ferrier said, "I've just had a
commonplace thought that was new, however, to me: the fishermen endure
this all the year, and do their work without having any saloons to take
shelter in," then Fullerton softly answered, "Thank God to hear you say
that. You'll be one of us now, and I wish we could only give thousands
the same experience, for then this darkened population might have some
light and comfort and happiness."
And now let me close a plain account of a North Sea gale. When the
weather is like that, the smacksmen must go on performing work that
needs consummate dexterity at any time. Our company of kindly
philanthropists had learned a lesson, and we must see what use they
make of the instruction. I want our good folk ashore to follow me, and I
think I may make them share Lewis Ferrier's new sensation.