The weather mended next day, and we made all sail with a fine breeze,
steering south-south-west. We had left the Downs on Tuesday, the 22nd
of August, and on the 25th we found by observation that we had made a
distance of over 900 miles, which, considering the heavy seas the ship
had encountered and the depth to which she was loaded, was very good
sailing.
However, though we carried the strong north-westerly wind with us all
day, it fell calm towards night, then shifted ahead, then drew away
north, and then fell calm again. We were now well upon the skirts of
the Bay of Biscay, and the heavy swell for which that stretch of sea is
famous, did not fail us. All through the night we lay like the ship in
the song, rolling abominably, with Coxon in a ferocious temper on deck,
routing up the hands to man first the port, and then the starboard
braces, bousing the yards about to every whiff of wind, like a madman
in the Doldrums, until both watches were exhausted. All this work was
put upon us, merely because the skipper was in a rage at the calm, and
not caring to rest himself, determined that his crew should not; but
for all the good this slueing the yards about did, he might as well
have laid the mainyards aback, and waited until some wind really came.
Early in the morning a light breeze sprang up aft, and the fore-topmast
stun'-sail was run up, and the ship began to move again. This breeze
held steady all day, and freshened a bit at night--but being right aft
scarcely gave us more than six knots when liveliest. However, it saved
the men's arms and legs, and enabled them to go about other and easier
work than manning braces, stowing sails, and setting them again.
And so till Wednesday, the 31st of August, on which day we were, to the
best of my memory, in latitude 45° and longitude about 10°.
The men during this time had been pretty quiet. The boatswain told me
that grumbling among them was as regular as meal-times; but no murmurs
came aft, no fresh complaints were made to the skipper. The reason was,
I think, the crew believed that the skipper meant to touch at Madeira
or one of the more southerly Canary Islands. That this was their notion
was put into my head by a question asked me by a hand at the wheel
when I was alone on deck: would I tell him where the ship was?
I gave him the results of the sights taken at noon.
"That's to the east'ard of Madeery, ain't it, sir?"
"Yes."
He bent his eyes on the compass-card, and seemed to be reflecting on
the ship's course. The subject dropped; but after he had been relieved,
and was gone forward, I saw him talking to the rest of the watch: and
one of them knelt down and drew some kind of figure with a piece of
chalk upon the deck (it looked to me, and doubtless was, a rude chart
of the ship's position), whereupon the cook began to jabber with great
vehemence, extending his hands in the wildest way, and pulling one
of the men close to him, and whispering in his ear. They noticed me
watching them, presently, and broke up.
Had I been on friendly terms with Coxon or Duckling, I should have
made no delay in going to one or the other of them and communicating
my misgivings; for misgivings I had, and pretty strong misgivings
they were. But I perfectly well foresaw the reception my hints would
meet with from both Duckling and the captain. I really believed that
the latter disliked me enough now to convert my apprehension of
trouble into some direct charge against me. He might swear that I had
sympathized all along with the crew--and this I had admitted--and that
if the mutiny which my fears foreboded broke out, I should be held
directly responsible for it and treated as the ringleader. Besides,
there was another consideration that influenced me: my misgivings
_might_ be unfounded. I might make a report which would not only
imperil my own position, but provoke him into assuming an attitude
towards the men which would produce in reality the mutiny that might,
as things went, never come to pass. This consideration more than
anything else decided me to hold my tongue, to let matters take their
course, and to leave the captain and his chief mate to use their own
eyesight, instead of obtruding mine upon them.
When I left the deck at four o'clock on the Wednesday afternoon, there
was a pleasant breeze blowing directly from astern, and the ship was
carrying all the canvas that would draw. The sky was clear, but pale,
like a winter's sky, and there was a very heavy swell rolling up from
the southward. The weather, on the whole, looked promising, and,
despite the north-easterly wind, the temperature was so mild that I
could have very well dispensed with my pilot jacket.
There was something, however, about the aspect of the sun which struck
me as new and strange. Standing high over the western horizon it should
be brilliant enough: and yet it was possible to keep one's eye fixed
upon it for some moments without pain. It hung indeed, a fluctuating
molten globe in the sky, without any glory of rays. This seemed to me
a real phenomenon, viewed with respect to the _apparent_ purity of the
sky; but of course I understood that a mist or fog intervened between
the sight and the sun, though I never before remembered having seen
the sun's disc so dim in brilliancy and at the same time so _clean_ in
outline in a blue sky.
I looked at the barometer before entering my cabin and found a
slight fall. Such a fall might betoken rain, or a change of wind
to the southward. In truth, there is no telling what a rise or fall
in the barometer _does_ betoken, beyond a change in the density of
the atmosphere. I would any day rather trust an old sailor's or an
old farmer's eye: and as to weather forecasts, based upon a thousand
fantastic hobbies, I liken them to dreams, of which every one remembers
the one or two that were verified, and forgets the immense number that
were never fulfilled.
Throughout the dog-watches the weather still held fair; but the glass
had fallen another bit and the wind was dropping. Captain Coxon had
very little to say to me now and I to him. I was just civil, and he was
barely so; but when I was taking a glass in the cuddy preparatory to
turning in for three hours, he asked me what I thought of the weather.
"It's difficult to know what this swell means, sir," I answered.
"Either it comes in advance of a gale or it follows a gale."
"In advance," he said. "If you are going to turn in, keep your clothes
on. There was a thundering gale in the sun this afternoon, and if you
clap your nose over the ship's side you'll smell it coming."
Oddly as he expressed himself, he was quite serious, and I understood
him.
As the wind grew more sluggish, the vessel rolled more heavily. I never
was in a cuddy that groaned and strained more than this, owing to the
mahogany fittings having shrunk and warped away from their fixings.
Up through the skylights it was pitch dark, from the effect of the
swinging lamps within; and though both skylights were closed, I could
hear the sails flapping like sharp peals of artillery against the
masts, and the gurgling, washing sob of the water as the roll of the
ship brought it up through the scupper-holes.
Just then Duckling overhead sang out to the men to get the fore-topmast
stun'-sail in: and Coxon at once quitted the cabin and went on deck.
There was something ominous in the calm and darkness of the night and
the voluminous heaving of the sea, and I made up my mind to keep away
from my cabin a while longer. I loaded a pipe and posted myself in a
corner of the cuddy front. Had this been my first voyage, I don't think
I should have found more difficulty in keeping my legs. The roll of the
vessel was so heavy that it was almost impossible to walk. I gained the
corner by dint of keeping my hands out and holding on to everything
that came in my road; but even this nook was uncomfortable enough to
remain in standing, for, taking the sea-line as my base, I was at
one moment reclining at an angle of forty degrees, the next, I had to
stiffen my legs forward to prevent myself from being shot like a stone
out of the corner and projected to the other side of the deck.
The men were at work getting in the fore-topmast stun'-sail, and some
were aloft rigging in the boom. There was no air to be felt save the
draughts wafted along the deck by the flapping canvas. Even where I
stood I could hear the jar and shock of the rudder struck by the swell,
and the grinding of the tiller-chains as the wheel kicked. The sky
was thick with half a dozen spars sparely glimmering upon it here and
there. The sea was black and oily, flashing fitfully with spaces of
phosphorescent light which gleamed below the surface. But it was too
dark to discern the extent and bulk of the swell: that was to be felt.
Duckling's voice began to sound harshly, calling upon the men to bear
a hand, and _their_ voices, chorusing up in the darkness, produced a
curious effect. So far from my being able to make out their figures,
it was as much as I could do to trace the outlines of the sails. After
awhile they came down, and immediately Duckling ordered the fore
and main royals to be furled. Then the fore and mizzen top-gallant
halliards were let go, and the sails clewed up ready to be stowed when
the men had done with the royals. So by degrees all the lighter sails
were taken in, and then the whole of the watch was put to close-reef
the mizzen-topsail.
As I knew one watch was not enough to reef the other topsails, and
that all hands would soon be called, I put my pipe in my pocket and
got upon the poop. Duckling stood holding on to the mizzen-rigging,
vociferating, bully-fashion, to the men. I walked to the binnacle and
found that the vessel had no steerage way on her, and that her head was
lying west, though she swung heavily four or five points either side
of this to every swell that lifted her. The captain took no notice of
me, and I went and stuck myself against the companion-hatchway and had
a look around the horizon which I could not clearly see from my former
position on the quarter-deck.
The scene was certainly very gloomy. The deep, mysterious silence, made
more impressive by the breathless rolling of the gigantic swell, and
by the impenetrable darkness that overhung the water-circle, inspired
a peculiar awe in the feelings. The rattle of the canvas overhead had
been in some measure subdued; but the great topsails flapped heavily,
and now and again the bell that hung just abaft the mainmast tolled
with a single stroke.
It was a relief to turn the eye from the black space of ocean to the
deck of the ship catching a lustre from the cuddy lights.
Duckling, perceiving my figure leaning against the hatchway, poked his
nose into my face to see who I was.
"I believed you were turned in," said he.
"I thought all hands would be called, and wished to save myself
trouble."
"We shall close-reef at eight bells," said he, and marched away.
This was an act of consideration towards the men, as it meant that the
watch below would not be called until it was time for them to turn out.
At all events the ship was snug enough now, come what might, even with
two whole topsails on her. Having close-reefed the mizzen-topsail, the
hands were now furling the mainsail, and only a little more work was
needful to put the ship in trim for a hurricane. So I took Duckling's
hint and laid down to get some sleep, first taking a peep at the glass
and noting that it was dropping steadily.
Sailors learn to go to sleep smartly and to get up smartly. And they
also learn to extract refreshment out of a few winks, which is an
art scarce any landsman that I am acquainted with ever succeeded in
acquiring. I was awakened by one of the hands striking eight bells, and
at once tumbled up and got on deck.
The night was darker than it was when I had gone to my cabin; no star
was now visible, an inky blackness overspread the confines of the
deep, and inspired a sense of calm that was breathless, suffocating,
insupportable. The heavy swell still rose and sunk the vessel, washing
her sides to the height of the bulwarks, and making the rudder kick
furiously.
The moment Coxon saw me he told me to go forward and set all hands to
close-reef the fore-topsail. I did his bidding, calling out the order
as I went stumbling and sprawling along the main-deck, and letting go
the halliards to wake up the men, after groping for them. Indeed, it
was _pitch_ dark forward. I might have been stone-blind for anything
I could see, barring the thin rays of the forecastle lamp glimmering
faintly upon a few objects amidships.
Owing to this darkness it was a worse job to reef the topsails than had
it been blowing a hurricane in daylight. It was a quarter to one before
both sails were reefed, and then the watch that had been on deck since
eight o'clock turned in.
Here were we now under almost bare poles, in a dead calm; and yet had
the skipper ordered both the fore and mizzen topsails to be furled, he
would not have been doing more than was justified by the extraordinary
character of the night--the strange and monstrous sub-swell of the
ocean, the opacity of the heavens, the sinister and phenomenal
breathlessness and heat of the atmosphere.
Duckling was below, lying at full length upon one of the cuddy benches,
ready to start up at the first call. I glanced at him through the
skylight, and wondered how on earth he kept himself steady on his
back. I should have been dislodged by every roll as surely as it came.
Perhaps he used his shoulder-blades as cleats to hold on to the sides
of the bench; and to so wildly proportioned a man as Duckling, a great
deal was possible.
The card was swinging in the binnacle as before, and just now the
ship's head was north-west. With more canvas upon the vessel her
position would have been perilous by the impossibility of guessing from
what quarter the wind would come--if it came at all. Even to be taken
aback under close-reefed topsails might prove unpleasant enough, should
a sudden gale come down and find the ship without way on her.
The captain, who was on the starboard side of the wheel, called me over
to him.
"Are the decks clear?"
"All clear, sir."
"Fore-topsail sheets?"
"Ready for running, sir."
"How's her head now?" to the man at the helm.
"Nor'-west, half north."
"Keep a brisk look-out to the south'ard, sir," he said to me; "and sing
out if you see the sky clearing."
I saw him, by the binnacle-light, put his finger in his mouth and hold
it up. But there was no other air to be felt than the short rush first
one way, then another, as the ship rolled.
Scarcely ten minutes had passed since he addressed me, when I saw what
I took to be a ship's light standing clear upon the horizon, right
astern.
I was about to call out when another light sprang up just above it.
Then a small, faint light, a little to the westward of these, then
another.
Owing to the peculiar character of the atmosphere these lights looked
red, and so completely was I deceived by their appearance, that I
halloed out--
"Do you see those lights astern, sir? They look like a fleet of
steamers coming up."
But I had scarcely spoken when I knew that I had made a fool of
myself. They were not ships' lights, _but stars_, and at once I
comprehended the import of this sudden astral revelation.
"Stand by the starboard braces!" roared the skipper; and the men, awake
to a sense of a great and perhaps perilous change close at hand, came
shambling and stumbling along the deck.
A wonderful panorama was now being rapidly unfolded in the south.
All down there the sky was clearing as if by magic, and the stars
shining; but as I watched, great flying wreaths like mighty volumes
of smoke pouring out of gigantic factory chimneys, came rushing over
and obscuring them, though always leaving a few brightly burning
in a foreground which advanced with astonishing rapidity towards
the ship. To right and left of this point of the horizon, the sky
cleared only to be obscured afresh by the flying clouds. Soon, amid
the solemn pauses falling upon the ship between the intervals of her
pitching, for she had now swung right before the swell, we could hear
the coming whirlwind screeching along the surface of the water. The
contrast of its approach with the oily, breathless, heaving surface
of the sea around us and all ahead, and the utter stagnation of the
air, produced an effect upon my mind, and, I believe, upon the minds
of all others who were witnesses of the sight, to which no words
could give expression--an emotion, if you like, of suspense that was
almost terror, and yet terror deprived of pain by a wild and tingling
curiosity.
But such a gale as I am describing travels quickly: all overhead the
sky was first cleared and then massed up with whirling clouds, before
the wind struck us: the white surface of the sea, cleanly lined like
the surf upon a beach, was plainly seen by us, even when the water all
around was still unruffled; and _then_, with a prolonged and pealing
yell, the gale and the spray it was lashing out of the sea were upon
us. In a moment our decks were soaking--the masts creaked, and every
shroud and stay sang to the sudden, mighty strain; the vessel staggered
and reeled--stopped, as a heavy swell rolled under her bows, and threw
her all aslant against the hurricane, which screeched and howled
through the rigging, and then fled forwards under the yards, which had
squared themselves as the starboard braces were slackened.
It was lucky for the _Grosvenor_ that the gale struck her astern. So
great was its fury that, had it taken her aback, I doubt if she would
have righted.
This furious wind had cleared the horizon, and the water-line all
around was distinctly figured against the sky. The sea was a sheet
of foam, and, what will scarcely seem credible, the swell _subsided_
under the lateral pressure of the wind, so that for a short time we
seemed to be racing along a level surface of froth. Large masses of
this froth, bubbly and crackling like wood in a fire, were jogged clean
off the water and struck the decks or sides of the ship with reports
like the discharge of a pistol, and no more than a handful of water
blown against my face hit me with such force, that for some moments I
suffered the greatest torment, as though my eyes had been scalded, and
I hardly knew whether I had not lost my sight.
The wind was blowing true from the south and we were bowling before it
due north, losing as much ground every five minutes as had taken us
an hour to get during the day. Coxon, however, was _feeling_ the gale
before he brought the ship close: at any moment, you see, the wind
might chop round and blow a hurricane; though, to be sure, the sky with
its torn masses of skurrying clouds had too wild an aspect to make us
believe that this gale was likely to be of short duration.
The sea now began to rise, and it was strange to watch it. First it
boiled in short waves which the wind shattered and blew flat. But other
waves rose, too solid for the wind to level: they increased in bulk as
they ran, and broke in coils of spray, while fresh and larger waves
succeeded, and the ship began to pitch quickly in the young sea.
The wonderful violence of the wind could not be well appreciated by us
who were running before it; but when the crew manned the braces and
the helm was put to starboard, it seemed as if the wind would blow
the ship out of the water. She came to slowly, laying her main-deck
level with the sea, and the screeching of the wind was diabolical and
absolutely terrifying to listen to. With the weather leeches just
lifting, she was still well away from her course, and her progress
under all three topsails was all leeway.
But I soon saw that she could not carry two of the three topsails,
owing to the tremendous sudden pressure put upon the masts by her
lurches to windward; and sure enough Duckling (who had turned out along
with all hands when the gale had first struck the ship) roared through
a speaking-trumpet to clew up and furl the fore and mizzen topsails.
It took all hands to deal with each sail separately, and I helped to
stow the fore-topsail.
To be up aloft in weather of the kind I am describing is an experience
no landsman can realize by imagination. To begin with, it is an immense
job to _breathe_, for the wind stands like something solid in your
mouth, and up your nostrils, and makes the expelling of your breath a
task fitter for a one-horse engine than a pair of human lungs. Then you
have two remorseless forces at work in the shape of the wind and the
sail doing their utmost to hurl you from the yard. The fore-topsail
was snugged as well as bunt-lines and clew-lines, hauled taut as steel
bars, could bring it; and besides, there were already three reefs in
it. And yet it stood out like cast-iron, and all hands might have
danced a horn-pipe upon it without putting a crease into the canvas
with their united weight. We had to roar out to Duckling to put the
helm down, and spill the sail, before we could get hold of it; and so
fiercely did the canvas shake in the hurricane as the ship came to,
that I, who stood in the bunt, expected to see the hands out at the
yard-arms shaken off the foot-ropes, and precipitated into the sea.
But what a wildly picturesque scene was the ocean surveyed from the
height of the foremast! The sea was now heavy, and furiously lashing
the weather bow; avalanches of spray ran high up the side, and were
blown in a veil of hurtling sleet and froth across the forecastle.
Casting my eyes backwards, the ship looked forlornly naked with no
other canvas on her than the close-reefed main-topsail, with the bare
outlines of her main and after yards, and the slack ropes and lines
blown to leeward in semicircles, surging to and fro in long sweeps
against the stars, which glimmered and vanished between the furiously
whirling clouds. The hull of the vessel looked strangely narrow and
long, contemplated from my elevation, upon the boiling seas; the
froth of the water made an artificial light, and objects on deck were
clear now, which, before the gale burst upon us, had been wrapped in
impenetrable darkness.
When the sail was furled, all hands laid down as smartly as they could;
but just under the foretop the rush of wind was so powerful, that when
I dropped my leg over the edge to feel with my foot for the futtock
shrouds, my weight was entirely sustained and buoyed up, and I believe
that had I let go with my hands, I should have been blown securely
against the fore-shrouds and there held.
The ship was now as snug as we could make her, hove to under
close-reefed main-topsail and fore-topmast staysail, riding tolerably
well, though, to be sure, the wind had not yet had time to raise much
of a sea. The crew were fagged by their heavy work, and the captain
ordered the steward to serve out a tot of grog apiece to them, more out
of policy than pity, I think, as he would remember what was in their
minds respecting their provisions, and how the ship's safety depended
on their obedience.