den go. Here's your blunderbust--you interrupts de vork on de deck--git
oudt!"
And yet there was a lot of energy in that sturdy form standing there
upon the deck of his undermanned schooner waving his acknowledgments to
me upon the bridge of the liner. Yes, Captain Johnny Sparks was a good
seaman. May the deep ocean hold him gently in its eternal embrace, for
he loved it--loved it as only a true seaman does!
We made the run south, and were coming up with a full complement of
passengers from Jamaica, when we began to notice a definite change in
the weather. It was the hurricane season, September, and the heat was
oppressive. The passengers lay about the decks in chairs all day and
half the night, getting what air the ship made with her rush of fifteen
knots an hour through the quiet sea. We ran along through the Passage,
leaving Cape Maysi out of sight before dark, and rapidly hauling up
under the lee of the Great Inagua Bank. Here in the smooth sea night
fell upon the ocean, and I went on the bridge for the first watch.
As I came into the pilot house to sign the order-book for my course,
Captain Boldwin called my attention to the glass. It had fallen rapidly
during the last few hours, and was now dangerously low.
"Keep a good lookout," he said, "and call me at the first signs of a
change." I signed the order-book, and he went below.
How many times has an officer signed that order-book before even going
on the bridge? And how many times has the said officer made an entirely
different course from that signed for? But then steamship companies do
not supply ships and coal for their officers to study navigation. It
would not look well on paper. Every officer of a passenger ship is a
licensed master, a captain; and no first-class company will ship any
other kind of man to go on the bridge to take charge for the watch
of four hours, for during that time the ship is absolutely under his
command, and it is necessary that he shall be a skilled navigator,
capable of taking the ship along just as safely should accident befall
her commander. For this responsibility he receives from seventy-five
to a hundred dollars per month; and half of the passengers whose lives
he holds in the hollow of his hand for half the night look upon him as
little better than a ship's cook!
We appeared to follow the low barometer, or it to follow us, for when
daylight came we were still running smoothly across the Atlantic with
nothing but an oppressive heat and mugginess to warn the landsman of
the low pressure.
"There's something coming along behind us; something there astern that
will probably make things howl," said Boldwin, as he came on deck in
the morning.
The sun was brassy in a coppery haze, but it was clear enough to get
a good sight for longitude. I called off three good sights, took the
note, and went below to work the longitude before breakfast. On ships
running across the Gulf or Florida Stream from the southward, bound for
New York or some port south of it, there is every necessity for getting
the westing accurate. We always found that, running diagonally across
for the Diamond Shoal Light vessel, we were set about twelve miles to
the northeast while running at from twelve to fifteen knots. This was
almost a regular fixed factor, but in heavy weather it was not always
safe to run full speed inside of it.
To make to the eastward of the lightship was well enough, but to fetch
to the westward was the one thing that has always made Boldwin nervous,
and rightly so. If he missed it going to the eastward, he would pick
up some other landfall to the northward, if he was too far off; but if
he missed it going to the westward in a driving gale, when it was too
thick to see half a mile--well, we had never done so yet, and had no
reason to pray for the experience.
We were a fast liner, full of fruit and passengers, and we could not
stop for anything on the run up. With fifty thousand bunches of bananas
below, we must drive the ship to her destination as fast as she could
go, and neither hurricane nor calm must stop her. The company seldom
kept a seaman long who brought in fifty thousand bunches of ruined
fruit, some of it twelve hands, and most of it more than eight, selling
at retail at nearly a dollar a bunch.
Two years before, Boldwin, after being hove-to for thirty-six hours
in a gale, had brought in his ship laden with fruit he had taken under
protest, the "yellow" being plainly in sight at the ends of more than
half the bunches. He had docked, and a score of men had waded about
for several days up to their hips in a mess which, once seen, causes
all lovers of bananas to eschew that fruit forever afterward. Banana
juice will cut the steel plates of a ship's side almost like diluted
sulphuric acid--but they gave him another chance.
It was late in the afternoon of the day we had run clear of the land,
when the first signs of the hurricane of September 19, 1903, made its
appearance. The swell began to roll heavily from the southeast with a
curious cross-roll from the westward, making a peculiarly uncomfortable
sea for a steamer running northward. It dropped away from under our
counter, and the _Prince Alfred_ dipped her taffrail almost to the
unruffled surface. Then she would rise upon it, and, as it lifted well
under her underbody, she would roll to port and throw her stern so high
that the starboard screw would race in a storm of foam at the surface,
shaking her tremendously, and annoying the passengers who happened to
occupy after-staterooms.
When the second officer, Smith, came on duty, I made my way aft to take
a look over things--to see that the small boats were securely lashed;
that gratings and gear were in place, for it was evident that we were
to have a piece of dirty weather. A large, fat, pale-faced woman poked
her head out of window and demanded that I have the starboard engine
stopped at once, as it was too racking on her nerves. She declared she
had stood it as long as she could, and would lodge a complaint with
the president of the company immediately she got ashore, if her demand
were not complied with instantly. I started to argue the case, but she
cut me short, exclaiming that "they never did such things on the French
boats."
All the gear was in order aft, and I had just made my way to the
bridge, when the Captain called my attention to a haze gathering to the
southward.
"The glass is starting down again--dropped two more tenths," he said.
"We'll run foul of something before eight bells. Looks like it was
following the Stream along to the northward; it usually does."
A heavy, blue-black bank of cloud, smooth, and swept into an immense
semicircle over the southern horizon, but rising fast, told of the
beginning of trouble. Half an hour later we began to feel the squalls,
which came suddenly and with vicious spurts of fine rain.
"According to old Captain Valdes," said Boldwin, "if you place your
back to the wind, the center of the blow is to the left, or port side,
and a bit behind you. This breeze is coming in from the east'ard good
and quick, and it looks like we'll fetch the center straight and fair
the way we're heading."
"Would you stop her and heave her up?" I asked.
"Stop her? Not as long as she'll swim. What do you think we are--a
sand-barge? Stop a liner running on schedule with a fortune of bananas
lying below? Get those ventilators trimmed, and put three covers on
the after hatch and lash them fast. We'll run her. Who do you think
would take this packet out the next voyage if he hove her to?"
As it was only too evident that it would be my chance, I said nothing.
The light grew dim as the gray pall of the storm quickly overspread the
sky. The dull gray light made the sea appear queer and dark, with the
great heave now running quickly, as though a mighty power were working
close behind it. The tops of the breaking combers had a peculiar lift
to them as they met the cross-swell, and the racing of the starboard
engine became more and more violent. A terrific squall bore upon the
ship, seemed to almost lift her bodily before it. The roar of the wind
whirling through the heavy standing rigging told of its velocity, and
then we waded right into the thick of it, with the _Prince Alfred_
lurching along eighteen knots an hour over a sea which was torn into a
white and gray world that ended, so far as our vision was concerned, a
few fathoms from the ship's side.
Boldwin was standing on the bridge, holding to the rail, and leaning to
the blasts as though it took his whole weight to bear up against them.
I came close to him.
"Get every one ... below! Lock in ... passengers!" I caught his words
with my ear ten inches from his mouth. "Cover ... hatches ... all fast."
I knew what he meant. When the _Prince Alfred_ closed down her cargo
there was something unusual happening. Making my way down the bridge
steps, I got the men of the watch together. It was tough work, for the
sea was now ugly, and we were running our weather-rail down at each
roll, and scooping up plenty of water which she sent across her decks
to leeward. To stand up without holding on meant to be blown bodily
against the lee rail at the risk of going over.
It was an hour before I got back to the bridge, and when I did so, the
squalls were becoming more frequent, and more and more violent, but
there was no shift yet. It soon grew dark--a black dark--and we tore
along into the blackness, unable to see two fathoms ahead. As yet we
were outside the Stream, and consequently not in the usual line of the
coasters, which are the dread of the liner's officers, for nothing
is so uncomfortable as the sudden raising of the dim and sometimes
half-extinguished lights of a schooner on a thick night while tearing
along before a gale. Having the right of way, the sailing vessel has
nothing to do but keep her course, while the steamship, with but a
few seconds to spare, swings quickly to pass, sometimes missing a
catastrophe by a few feet. A poor red light on such a night cannot be
seen twenty fathoms.
Before midnight the shift began. It came from the southward--a bad
sign, for it told plainly that we were nearing the center of the
disturbance; and as we were heading diagonally across the path of the
storm, we were almost certain to bring up in its dread vortex. As chief
officer, it would have been a bit out of place for me to suggest the
thing the ordinary seaman would do--that is, heave to and work out of
it. Boldwin stood on his bridge and kept her going.
And yet it had to come. Before daylight the sea was terrific--the
squalls coming with furious rushes, shifting, and hurling a frightful
sea. A huge, lifting hill of water broke high above the taffrail, and
roared a full fathom deep over the quarter-deck. The crash shook the
steamer through her whole frame. It was as though she had struck a
solid rock. The white glint of the foam showed through the blackness,
but the dull, thunderous roar drowned all other sounds.
Boldwin went to the speaking tube in the pilot house, called to the
chief engineer to stand by to heave her to and watch the engines as she
came into the trough.
"We'll have to stop her," he said; and I nodded assent.
In the pilot house the clanking of the steam steering gear sounded
dully in the deep, sonorous undertone of the gale outside.
Boldwin waited but a moment, and then gave the order:
"Hard over, sir!" cried the quartermaster; and the rattling clank
of the engine sounded the signal for me to take advantage of the
opportunity to get outside by the lee door.
If it had been blowing before while we were running, it was now a blast.
The _Prince Alfred_ laid down her whole five hundred feet of steel side
into that sea, and the crash of the mighty hill that swept her shook
her as though she had been struck amidships by the ram of a battleship.
The forward funnel guys parted, and I had a momentary glimpse of a
great pillar of iron going over the side to leeward. Then she began to
head the sea, and no human could face the storm of flying water which
swept the bridge.
With heads down, gasping for breath, Boldwin and myself gripped the
bridge rail. The flying atmosphere tore past us. We dared not loose our
grasp for an instant, and to get back to the shelter of the pilot house
was impossible without following the iron rail aft.
After a thunderous rush of quick and vicious squalls, there was a
sudden lull. A giant comber showed ahead, and its white and foaming
crest lifted clear into the night. She buried her whole forward deck,
and, as the water cleared, we could see about us. The dull snore of a
giant sea sounded close aboard. It was uncanny, this sudden stillness,
full of a palpitating murmur and pregnant with an ominous power.
"Right in it!" gasped Boldwin. "How does she head now?"
"Southeast by south," I answered. "The next squall will probably come
from the northwest."
"Well, I guess we'll swing her while it's still--Lord, what an awful
sea!"
The _Prince Alfred_ came slowly around with her engines turning at
half speed. The high, leaping hills of water seemed to come from all
directions at once. They fell upon her decks and shook her up a
bit, but did no damage. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed. A distant
murmuring sounded over the torn sea.
"Which way?" asked Boldwin nervously.
A puff of cool air blew straight in our faces; we had not noted how
sultry it was, for we were soaking wet and exhausted. The puff blew to
a breeze. Then came a spurt of rain and a faint flash of lightning. In
a minute we were facing furious squalls, and the _Prince Alfred_, with
a full head of steam, had all she could do to keep steering way with
her nose pointed straight into the blast from nor'-nor'-west.
It was in the gray of the early morning, while Boldwin and I were still
on the bridge, and the second and third officers were in charge of the
saloons quelling the panic, that we sighted something dead ahead. The
squalls were still whirling over us with longer intervals between, but
with still undiminished vigor. The great sea began to show in front now
through the dim light, and it was all the full-powered liner could do
to hold her own head to it. To swerve to either side meant falling off
into the dangerous trough, with the hazard of not being able to regain
her course. Even as it was, we had to more than once slow the port or
starboard engine to enable her to point her nose straight into the
hurricane.
Upon the crest of a giant hill of water something showed black. It was
a momentary glimpse, but Boldwin and I saw it instantly. It was close
aboard and, as we yelled to each other and strained our eyes ahead,
we made out the thin line of a mast. Boldwin dropped on his hands and
knees and was blown to the pilot-house door. I waved my hand to ease
her to starboard a little. Just then a sea struck us heavily upon the
starboard bow, and held her with its rush. The next moment the shape
ahead was high upon the crest of a mighty sea, and I recognized the
stern of a vessel outlined against the gray pall.
I looked over the side. The foam was lying dead with us, showing we
were not going ahead more than a knot or two. Boldwin saw it also, and
knew that to slew his ship now would mean to get struck a blow in the
side which in that sea would probably prove fatal. He thought of his
passengers. They must be considered first. Whatever was ahead was going
to hit us, and it was due to those we had aboard that it must strike
us as fairly upon the stem as we could land it. God help them, we must
save our own!
We plunged headlong into the trough, and right above us upon the
following crest rose the stern of that sailing vessel. She was plainly
in view now; so close that I recognized the sawed-off shape of an
old-time fishing schooner. Upon her main a bit of rag like a trysail
showed white. She was heading the sea at the end of her sea anchor, a
long drag-rope, and as her deck showed, I saw she had been badly swept.
There was no one in sight. She was going astern fast, much faster than
we thought, for even while Boldwin tried to edge to starboard, and did
all he could to swing his ship without getting his head thrown off with
the sea, the stern sank just ahead of us in the hollow of a sea, and
our stem rose above. I leaned forward and held my breath. The _Prince
Alfred_ fell headlong into the hollow, and just as we struck I read the
name _Flying Star_ painted large and white right across the transom.
A dull grinding thud, which shook the _Prince Alfred_ but slightly, was
all that came to us. A sea swung the wreck to port, and as she heeled
and settled, I saw Johnny Sparks spring from the companionway, followed
by several men. The next instant a great comber roared over them and
the schooner disappeared, leaving nothing above the foam to show where
she had floated a moment before. Something caught in my throat. I shut
my eyes, and held my head down for I don't know how long.
We came into port four days later with Boldwin on the bridge, his face
lined and haggard. Below, thirty thousand dollars' worth of bananas
slushed about in a ghastly mess, in spite of the pens and shorings. But
the passengers were happy. Women in gay dresses came on deck and smiled
and chatted, and children romped and played. The captain did not look
at me--he had not since the collision--but he spoke to me for the first
time.
"See that everything is shipshape when we dock," said he, "and then
meet me at the company's office at four o'clock. I'll probably not take
her out next voyage--take a lay-off for a while--understand?"
PIRATES TWAIN
At last I was back in the regular liners of the Prince ships. My work
on the _Heraldine_ had been appreciated by Lord Hawkes, the manager,
and his lordship was no piker.
He refused Boldwin my company when that worthy but thirsty skipper
asked to have me back in the old _Prince Alfred_, where a certain lady
whom I admired greatly was stewardess.
The new _Prince George_, twenty-five thousand tons and a
twenty-two-knot vessel, was wanting a first officer, and old man Hall
was somewhat disposed to give me "a chance," as the saying is at sea
when an officer applies for a berth.
"You may report to the captain to-morrow at the dock," said his
lordship, and our interview was at an end. Boldwin looked sour, for I
had been a good mate to him, and he wanted me badly, but the manager's
word was law.
I found the giant liner all that modern improvements could make her.
From her six-hundred-foot keel to her four immense funnel tops, she was
a beauty.
It would take a week to describe her many qualities, and I must admit
it gave me a feeling of responsibility when I stepped upon her flying
bridge and looked her over.
There I would be in command every four hours, and when I gazed over her
immense length and breadth it seemed indeed that I must be a person of
some small ability to hold the job.
No flippant remarks here, no joking about the passengers or the
company. It was silence and dignity.
How I stood it at first is more of a wonder to me, when I look back
at the time, than the actual work, for really a ship's officer is not
considered a mighty position, even though he does hold the lives of a
couple of thousand folks in his keeping during his watch on deck.
But I was not too old, and had ambition, for some day I wanted to have
a little farm of my own and raise chickens and hogs--the true ambition
of every seaman I ever met--and I wanted to ask a certain lady to run
the said farm for me, or rather do the cooking, which is probably the
same thing.
Our crew was shipped by the agents. Old man Hall had nothing whatever
to do but act as overseer of the navigators, which same were myself and
a second officer named MacFarland.
Mac was a good seaman, although he had never been in sail, but had
risen from the apprentice school of officers established by the company
to train men for its ships--and they were of course all steam.
I must admit he knew more of express ships than I, but I had ten years
more sea duty done, and I was something of a windjammer in my time.
This gave me the rating with the older men who had served the same way
in the old sailing vessels.
We knew each other, and could depend always upon certain things in each
other that no school could develop the same way. I sat at the head of
the chief officers' table, and I bought a book of table etiquette to
get the lay of the whack just right.
It taught me many things I hadn't learned in a ship's forecastle, and
soon I was able to speak to the prosperous-looking passengers without
feeling that my tongue was in the way of my teeth.
We carried three hundred first-class--that was some when you think
of it--and we often herded fifteen hundred to two thousand in the
steerage. Four hundred seconds added sometimes put our total complement
over three thousand souls, counting, of course, our crew, stokers, and
waiters.
You will realize at once the inability of a chief mate getting even the
slightest acquaintance with hundreds of the people who used the _Prince
George_ for transportation across the ocean, and, if I could not get
a line on them, it was equally impossible for the pursers, pursers'
clerks, and stewards to do so.
Mr. Samuels, the head purser, had a memory that was said to be
infallible. He said he never forgot a face. Of the million or two
people he came in contact with during his runs, he boasted that he
could always tell if he had ever seen one of them before.
I didn't believe it, of course; but, then, pursers have a way that
many seamen can't understand, anyhow.
Being an express ship, and carrying the first-class mail, we also had
an express safe. This was built into the body of the vessel, and was
like the new bank safes, with solid steel doors and time locks.
Two watchmen took charge, alternating night and day, and the massive
doors were not to be opened by any one alone. In that safe we often
carried three or four million dollars in solid gold bars or gold coin.
Sometimes the banking houses of the United States shipped as much as
two million at a time in coin. Precautions were of the modern banking
sort, and the giant safe caused no comment.
The other safes of the purser and captain were just plain, every-day
affairs, and seldom held more than a few thousand dollars. These were
very different from the "through" safe.
* * * * *
I had been in the ship four months before I noticed a man who sat at
my table. He had made a voyage with us the first run I made, and I
remembered him as a clergyman who had relatives abroad in Europe, but
who was himself an American.
He was a very dignified man, about fifty-five years of age, and he
knew a great deal. I enjoyed talking to him, for he told me of many
places and events that were most interesting. But he never at any time
discussed religion, or even spoke of subjects relating to it.
Once on his second trip over, he came to my room, and presented me
with a box of fine Havana cigars and, although it was against custom, I
asked him in, and he came.
We smoked while I should have been sleeping, but I was not by any means
overworked, and I rather enjoyed his society, flattered of course that
a man of such vast experience and learning should single out the chief
officer for a companion.
But then I knew many folks looked upon a master navigator as a likely
person to know, and was not very much surprised, setting it down to his
good taste and discernment--for I had gone a mile or two myself in my
day, and had seen a few things both ashore and afloat.
Once I remember he talked of finance and the great gold shipments that
were disturbing the country. He had followed the administration in its
effort to curb a panic that was threatened, and spoke of the money we
carried in gold coin that was for the purpose of staying a run at that
time upon a banking house that had many foreign affiliations.
"The express safe is generally full, is it not, during times like
these?" he asked.
"Yes, we carry millions every voyage now," I answered, and noticed that
the Reverend Mr. Jackson made a peculiar grimace as if amused at the
news.
The conversation immediately drifted off to Cape Town, where the
minister had lately spent much time, and he soon left me to my slumber
and cigars.
I noticed that he had remarkable hands, immensely strong, as though he
had done much hard work, and afterward I wondered at a small tattoo
mark on his wrist just beneath the edge of his cuff. He had powerful,
hairy wrists, and the blue mark showed very indistinctly through the
black hair, but it caused me to think of him as a strange man.