The cabin was very dark, from the skylight being covered over and
battened down. The schooner was however so tight and strong, that
provided the hatches were on, I knew that she might almost roll over and
over, and yet not fill. This gave me great confidence as long as we
kept to the open sea; but driven on rocks or quicksands, with such a
gale as was then blowing, there could have been no hope for the stoutest
ship that ever floated on the salt ocean. As I was saying, I went into
the cabin; although gloomy enough on deck, it was still darker below;
for the gleam of light which came down the companion-hatch scarcely
found its way beyond the foot of the ladder. I looked about me, and at
first thought that my wife and daughters had, in their terror, turned
into their berths; but soon, amid the creaking of the bulkheads, and the
rattling of the rigging, and the roaring of the storm, a gentle, sweet
voice reached my ears. It was that of my daughter Susan. She had not
heard me enter. She was on her knees praying, so were her mother and
sisters, all round the table in the cabin. She was lifting up her voice
to our loving, merciful Father in Heaven;--to the same God who stilled
the raging of the storm on Gennesaret, and said to the sea, "Peace, be
still." She was praying, dear girl, for me especially, that I might be
preserved, even though the vessel were dashed to pieces; but, that if it
was His will, that the schooner and all on board might be saved.
I cannot tell you how much confidence the prayer of that dear child gave
me; I am sure--I was then sure--that God hears such prayers. The rest
of the family too had been praying; they were not prayers forced out by
fear, but just such trusting, hopeful prayers as God loves to honour. I
stood for a few moments till Susan ceased, and when she did, I uttered a
low "Amen." The dear ones heard me, and looked up, but did not rise
from their knees; indeed, the vessel was tumbling about so much, that it
was with difficulty they could hold on. I told them what I was come
down for, and striking a light, I took down my chart from the beckets in
which it hung, and spread it out on the table. I anxiously marked down
the position in which, by my calculations, I believed the schooner then
was. A league or more to the eastward there was, I found, an island
with a bay inside it, affording anchorage for small vessels. For a
large ship it would have been utterly useless. Here, again, was an
advantage which my humble little schooner possessed over a bigger craft.
Giving a parting kiss to my wife and daughters, I leaped again on deck.
It was a question whether we should be able to keep off the shore till
we could reach the island. I could see the surf breaking furiously on
the rocks to leeward, and the gale blew as heavily as ever. A slight
shift of wind might save us. If the wind held as it then did, I had no
hopes for the little _May Flower_.
The day was drawing to a close. Every instant the danger increased.
The gale, instead of breaking, raged more furiously than ever. Closer
and closer the schooner drifted towards the shore. It would have been
madness to carry more sail; for already her lee bulwarks were under
water, and yet I dared not take any off her with the slightest hopes of
being able to claw off shore. The seas came breaking on board, deluging
our decks, and, had not the hatches been firmly secured, would quickly
have swamped us. I was at the helm, with Charley White by my side, my
boys and the two men having lashed themselves to the weather rigging.
No one appeared to be terror-stricken, and yet the youngest, as well as
old Bob Hunt, knew perfectly well that there was every probability of
our being in a few short minutes overwhelmed among the foaming breakers
under our lee. Anxiously I looked out for the island; and the wind blew
fiercer and fiercer.
Suddenly there was a lull; but it was of no advantage to us, as the huge
rollers were literally throwing us rapidly towards the rocks. Again the
gale came down on us, but its direction was altered. It blew nearer
from the westward, by several points, than it had before done. Already
the schooner was heading off from the shore, but very slowly; and I was
doubtful how far she would make way against the rollers, which sent her
bodily back towards it. Still there was hope, and I could venture to
slide back the hatch and to sing out to the dear ones below that the
wind had changed. "Thank God for His mercy," was the reply from below,
for I had speedily to shut the hatch again. Just afterwards I saw an
opening in the land to the westward, and I knew that it must be the
passage between the island and the main. There was a hillock and a
peculiar rock, which prevented me from having any doubt about the
matter. What a comfort to feel sure that we were steering a right
course for a safe harbour! I could now venture to keep away again a
little.
The entrance to the sound became more and more distinct as we advanced.
The various landmarks noted in the chart, appeared one after the other,
and in half an hour we ran into a beautiful little harbour, with the
water as smooth as a mill-pond. Our first care, directly the anchor was
dropped, was to take off the hatches and give air to our poor sheep.
The boys jumped below to ascertain if they had suffered.
"All the animals are alive," they cried out; "but send us down a bucket
of water." The creatures sucked it up quickly. They probably would not
have held out many hours longer; but we lifted them up, two at a time,
on deck, and the fresh air soon revived them. We had only just light
enough to see our way into the harbour, but we hoped in the morning to
get on shore and to cut some grass, which would do them more good than
the fresh air.
I should have said that directly we were in smooth water my wife and
daughters came on deck, and, as they gazed on the sheltering shore under
which we were running, they lifted up their hands in earnest
thankfulness to that merciful God who had brought us into a haven of
rest.
On sounding the well, we found that, notwithstanding all the tossing we
had gone through, the stout little craft had not made a drop of water.
We spent two very busy days in Refuge harbour, cutting grass and wood,
and filling up our water casks. All this time no natives were seen.
There are indeed but few on that part of the coast. Short-sighted
mortals that we are--we had been inclined to complain of our detention,
but we had reason to be thankful that we had gone into Refuge harbour.
As soon as we had filled up with wood and water, we got under weigh, and
stood out through the eastern end of the sound. Before, however, we had
got from under the shelter of the island--a long, low sandy point
intervening between us and the ocean--we saw to the southward a dark
bank of clouds coming, like an army in close rank, rapidly up towards
us.
The breeze was light, and the sea comparatively calm, but underneath the
cloud there came a line of white foam, beyond which the whole ocean
seemed a mass of tossing seas. I knew what to expect, and, going about,
stood back to our snug little bay. Scarcely had we dropped our anchor
and furled sails than the hurricane burst above the island, and we could
see the breakers dashing furiously on the opposite shore. For nearly
three days the tempest--one of the most violent ever known on that
coast--continued raging. Many a big ship went down, and many a stout
one was cast upon the rooks and dashed to pieces.
We waited--grateful for our escape--till the wind moderated and the sea
went down, and then once again sailed for our final destination. In our
small vessel we had to economise fresh water, fodder for the animals,
and fuel; and it was very important that we should have a quick passage.
We had, therefore, again filled up with those necessary articles, and
in every corner we had stowed away all the fresh grass we could cut.
This, mixed with the hay, kept the sheep in excellent condition. We had
ere long to be thankful that we had not neglected to prepare for all
contingencies.