THE GREAT CYCLONE.
It was on the last day of September that the combined fleets--to the
number of a hundred and forty ships--weighed anchor and set sail. The
sky was dark and threatening as they left Terceira, and they had not
well got out of sight of the island when a most terrible storm arose.
The sea was suddenly whipped up into great mountainous waves, the wind,
which seemed to come from all quarters at once, howled and shrieked like
a thousand furies. The vast fleet was dispersed, each galleon being left
to take care of itself. Some tried to put back to Terceira, others
endeavoured to make for the island of St. Michael's. The whole sea
between these two islands was dotted over with struggling ships. It was
such a storm as comes only once in a hundred years, and its effects were
terrible. Out of the hundred and forty galleons no more than
three-and-thirty ever arrived in Spain and Portugal. All the rest were
cast upon the rocky ribs of the islands or were overwhelmed in the sea.
It was off the island of Terceira that the _Revenge_--or what remained
of her--came to her end. She had been taken out in tow by the _San
Andrea_ galleon, but when the tempest rose to its height she was cast
off and abandoned to her fate. Driven by the tremendous waves upon the
outlying rocks, she was shattered to splinters, so that not a trace of
her remained but a few balks of her stout oaken timbers that drifted as
flotsam to the beach. There had been seventy men on board of her, many
of them Spaniards, some few of them captive Englishmen. Among the latter
were Jacob Hartop and Edward Webbe. Only one man reached the island
alive, and he, being sorely hurt, had but time to tell his tale to the
islanders and be shriven before he died.
Roland Grenville, who had been drafted on board the _San Andrea_, was
the only one of our friends who was not shipwrecked. He was taken to
Lisbon, where, after having endured great privations in prison (whereof
much might be told), he fell in with the gallant Captain Monson, escaped
to Cadiz, was again imprisoned, and finally rescued by the Earl of Essex
on the occasion of the famous expedition against that Spanish
stronghold.
For three days the _Santa Maria_ was buffeted about in the storm. From
her watery decks Gilbert Oglander and Timothy Trollope saw many a
galleon go down, and not only such galleons as had been of Don Alonzo De
Bassan's fleet, but many others of the treasure-ships, which took with
them to the bottom their wealthy cargoes of silver and gold. On the
morning of the fourth day, when the tempest was at its height, she fell
in with the flag-ship, whose foremast was gone by the board, and whose
sails were but so many ragged ribbons flying from her yards. Her rudder
was gone, and she was helpless. Nor was the _Santa Maria_ in any better
case, for only her main-mast was standing, and the great waves washed
over her, threatening to swamp her at every moment. The two ships came
close together, and their white-faced and frightened seamen could see
each other's faces from deck to deck. They drew apart when the deeper
darkness of night came on, but in the morning they were again within
sight, beating about in the perilous channel between the islands of St.
George and Graciosa.
There was a slight lull in the storm in the afternoon, and the commander
of the _Santa Maria_ thought he might succeed in gaining some shelter
under the lee of the island of Graciosa. He had his ship put about, and
approaching the _St. Paul_ attempted to cross her bows, but a sudden
change in the wind drove him to leeward, and before anyone on board
realized their peril the two vessels crashed together with fearful
force. So great was the impact that Don Alonzo's galleon heeled over
until her larboard bulwarks were for a moment under water. But she
righted herself again and sailed on, leaving many of her men who had
been upon her open decks floundering in the sea. Among these was Philip
Oglander.
Philip was a good swimmer, and when he rose to the surface he struck
out, shook the water from his dripping hair, and looked around. His own
ship was now drawing away, forced onward by the storm. He turned and saw
the high bows of the _Santa Maria_ towering above him, with her timbers
broken and wrecked, and the water pouring into the yawning gap. The
galleon plunged forward, staggered, rolled, then plunged forward again
with her bow buried deep in a sea of foam. She did not lift herself now,
but first her forward part sank lower and lower, the waves swept over
her, seeming to rejoice in their conquest, and presently, with a great
gurgling sound, the vessel disappeared.
Gilbert and Timothy had been on her mid-deck when the two ships crashed
together. They were standing abaft her thick main-mast, with their arms
linked. Timothy, watching the ship's onward course and noting the
position of the flag-ship, had foreseen the collision.
"Look you," said he, gripping Gilbert's arm more tightly, "we shall
strike her. Be ready, master; and if we should founder, cling to me, I
implore you." And then, even as he spoke, the two ships crashed
together, and the lads were thrown off their feet. Timothy flung his
arms around Gilbert and held him. They lay there waiting. They felt the
deck trembling beneath them, swaying to and fro.
"We are sinking!" cried Timothy. And for many moments--moments that
seemed like hours of suspense--he was silent. Suddenly there was a great
breaking of timber. He saw the white foam leaping up over the steep
incline of the deck. The tall main-mast swayed over and fell with a
crash that was like a crack of thunder. And then all was dark, and he
felt himself being drawn below in the vortex with the sinking ship.
Still clinging to his companion, he opened his eyes. The water was all
black about him. He moved his legs, trying to force himself upward.
Soon he began to rise; the darkness became less dense, it grew from
black to dark green, and then to a lighter green, and at last the
daylight burst once more upon him. Striking out with his one free arm he
kept himself afloat, then disengaged himself from Gilbert and took a
fresh hold of the lad, keeping his head up above the water. Gilbert's
eyes greeted him with recognition.
"Hold on, hold on to me!" cried Timothy, as a great wave swept over
them, carrying with it a huge spar of wreckage.
The spar threatened to fall down upon Gilbert's head, but the waves kept
it buoyant. Timothy stretched forth his arm and gripped some floating
cordage, and presently drew himself towards the drifting spar, which he
found to be the galleon's main-mast.
"Lay hold on't!" he cried. And Gilbert, releasing his grip of Timothy's
belt, put his hand upon the mast, and, with infinite trouble and after
many failures, at last succeeded in climbing up and getting astride of
it, while Timothy, working his way along to its end, also climbed up.
When they were both together again in comparative safety, they looked
about them in the hope of saving some of the Spaniards.
"There is one!" cried Gilbert, as he saw a woolly black head appear
within a couple of yards of him. "'Tis José, the blackamoor."
And Timothy stretched forth his leg for the negro, who speedily caught
it and clambered up. A second and a third man appeared, but both were
too far off to be helped, and as neither could swim they were quickly
lost to sight.
It was at this juncture that Philip Oglander, swimming about in search
of some wreckage by which he might hope to save himself, caught sight of
the negro José. Timothy and Gilbert had their backs to him; he only saw
that they were human figures, and that they were for the time being on a
secure refuge. Swimming towards José, he at last attracted the negro's
attention. The noise of the wind and waves was too great for a voice to
be heard, and he climbed upon the floating mast without either Gilbert
or Timothy's knowledge. It was, indeed, as much as any one of them could
do to retain his balance and keep himself from being washed off, for the
ponderous log upon which they rested rolled heavily upon the waves, and
at times either plunged into them or was itself by them thrown upward
into the air, and those who rode upon it might better have been upon a
mad horse, so difficult was it to keep a seat. Cold and hungry and pale
with the terror of their situation, the boys clung tightly with legs and
arms, hoping only that God would bring them out of their peril.
The night came on and darkness deepened their distresses. Timothy, who
was in front of Gilbert, had not thus far dared to turn round and face
him, but he had worked his way backward so that Gilbert might cling to
him, and the while the boy's hand touched him he was comforted. In the
darkness of the night Gilbert heard what he thought was a human cry--as
in truth it was,--and putting his lips to Timothy's ear he called out:
"He hath fallen off! José hath fallen off!"
But later he felt that someone was moving behind him, and again he spoke
to Timothy.
"Nay, I mistook," said he; "he is still with us."
Timothy made no response, satisfied only that his companion was able to
take even so much interest in anything apart from the thought of his own
immediate danger.
The storm subsided somewhat during the early morning. The spar floated
more easily, and when a faint streak of gray light appeared in the
eastern sky, Timothy ventured to alter his position and bring himself
round face to face with Gilbert. Glancing over Gilbert's shoulder, he
saw that the negro--or what he supposed to be the figure of the
negro--was still there, lying with his head upon his hands, and his
hands gripping a strand of thick rope that was coiled about the mast. As
the light grew stronger, however, he was astonished to notice that those
hands were not black, and that where he had expected to see a head of
woolly black hair there was a head whose hair was long and straight.
Further scrutiny revealed to him the fact that through a long rent in
their companion's jerkin there was a gleam of white skin. He waited
until the coming daylight should enable him to discover more of this
mystery, and as yet he said nothing to Gilbert.
At last the dawn broke, and with its coming Timothy saw the pale haggard
face of Philip Oglander turned towards him, with the dark hollow eyes
gleaming in startled recognition.