The Sarah Arm was as smart a little brig as ever crossed Bideford
Bar. She lay in the Pool that night with her head seaward, dividing
the flowing tide as though she were rushing through it, and rising to
the gentle swell with a seeming impatience to be gone. And shortly
after midnight the word was given to weigh anchor and shake out the
sails; and James Stauncy once more bade farewell to the Tonidge and
the Taw.
A light haze had gathered over the waters, but the gibbous moon,
which still rode high in the heavens, shone brightly. In queenly
majesty she looked down on that quiet scene, watching over
unconscious slumberers; and though little of the landscape could be
seen as the vessel passed Graysand, yet, when she had cleared the
bar, the land-mist was left behind, and the bay, distinctly
traceable, sparkled everywhere with silvery brightness.
The ship's company, besides the skipper and Mr. Mogford, the mate,
consisted of eight seamen and an apprentice, whose name was Jim
Ortop, a cross-grained, vexatious youngster, whose cunning at one
time and sulkiness at another procured for him most days what the
sailors called 'monkeys' 'lowance.'
The men, having seen all snug, were lounging in the forecastle, where
the look-out was stationed; and as the vessel sped along under
courses, with a fine breeze, they beguiled the time by giving
utterance to sundry and divers reflections.
'We shall have a change of weather soon, I'm thinking,' said Harry
Cole. 'D'ye hear how the sea roars at the Rock's Nose?'
'Ay, ay,' replied Jem Kelly; 'a ring round the moon and a roar at the
Snuffler is a sure sign of a slapping sou-wester, and it'll be ready
for us, all brewed, before we reach the chops of the Channel.'
'Do you know where we're bound?' said Sam Pickard. 'I made sure we
were going foreign when Mr. Phillipson said to the cap'n, as he bade
him good-bye, "Keep your weather eye open, cap'n."'
'I didn't like the way the gov'nor and the cap'n whispered and
laughed as they parted,' answered Kelly. 'I overheard the cap'n tell
the mate just now that we were going up the Straits, and that,
according to the ship's papers, the bales we've got on board are
bales of broadcloth, which he said were heavily insured.' And,
having thus delivered himself, he winked hard for his own private
amusement.
'Bales of broadcloth!' responded Jack Purden, with a sarcastic laugh;
'bales of list, more like; and a fine market the old rogue will make
of it, I'll warrant you.' And Jim Ortop saw by the bright moonlight
that he too winked in a very knowing and emphatic manner.
'The last time we were up the Mediterranean,' Jim chimed in, 'the
cap'n knocked me overboard; and if it hadn't been for Ned Birch I
should have been drowned. If he serves me so again, I'll run away.'
'Where will you run to, you young scapegrace?' said Pickard. 'How is
it you haven't got that rope stowed away yet? Look sharp, or the end
of it will make acquaintance with your shoulders.'
And so they talked and joked, and moralized too, by times, until the
day began to dawn; and the order was given, as the wind had
freshened, to clew up the courses and wash the deck.
They were still within sight of the Cornish coast when the sun rose
gloomily into the thickening sky, assuming the cold red hue which
characterizes a frosty morning, and then the dull greasy look which
bespeaks a thaw, or maybe a storm.
Before nine o'clock the ship had been so far eased of canvas that she
was scudding under topsails. Dark banks of clouds began to lower in
the horizon. The wind, which had risen to a gusty gale, and veered
frequently, swept and howled through the rigging; and so threatening
were appearances that when Jim Ortop went whistling up the shrouds to
execute some trifling order, he had to run the gauntlet for it as
soon as he reached the deck.
'You whistling rascal!' said Cole; 'don't you know you can't be
whistling when there's a wind without raising a hurricane? If I hear
you at that again, I'll make a figure-head of you.'
But the warning came too late. The wind, which had been chopping
about, determinately settled into a stern sou-wester, and began to
muster its forces for a deadly assault. Gusty and gustier still, it
swept the rain-clouds hurriedly along the sky, exciting the billows
into a wild tumult.
The captain was obliged to alter his course a point or two, in
consequence of this state of things; but he kept the vessel's head as
close to the wind as possible, and carried all the sail she would
bear.
'We shall have a dirty time of it, Mr. Mogford,' he said, 'We must
batten all down, and keep her facing it as long as we can.'
'There's no telling, sir,' replied the mate, 'how it may go. We
haven't got the worst of it yet, for certain.'
Nor had they. Hour after hour the tempest increased in violence,
until it became a perfect hurricane. Pausing to take breath, and
sobbing and sighing, as if in vexation whilst it lulled, the raging
wind recovered itself to blow more frantically, bending the brig to
the gunwale, and sending green waves over her, whose hissing crests
rose haughtily, and broke in briny showers amid her spars and
rigging. Right skilfully did Stauncy handle her, and gallantly she
carried herself, struggling bravely with the wild, writhing billows,
which chased each other like giants at their gambols.
The evening began to draw in, and, until the moon arose to cast a
pale and sickly light over the wide waste of tumultuous waters, the
darkness added to the terror of the storm. The men, who had lashed
themselves to different parts of the vessel for safety, began to
despair; and Stauncy himself perceived that the case was serious.
Still, however, he carried on, until a gust more wilful than its
fellows rent the staysail into strips, which streamed out into the
wind or flogged and cracked with restless fury; and a monster wave,
bent on destruction, broke over the trembling vessel, sweeping the
caboose and part of the bulwarks overboard, and with them the pride
and life of the crew, Jim Kelly.
'He's gone, sir!' shouted the men,--'Jim's overboard, sir!' and the
order to wear the ship was immediately given. But the seaman was
beyond the reach of help, and all that Stauncy could do was to look
after the safety of the rest.
'We'll run before it, Mr. Mogford,' he said; 'I don't know what else
we can do.' And away flew the brig with bare poles, plunging and
rolling in the seething waters.