RACING HOMEWARD
As the flying ship drew southward of the Cape the weather became cold
and stormy, while the great seas followed her with tremendous force,
but they could never get any kind of serious grip, and with
resounding emphasis broke on either quarter and rushed forward in
seething foam.
So heavy did the wind become that, with much regret, the captain was
compelled to shorten sail, and after the royals, studding-sails, and
fore and mizen topgallant-sails were stowed the long winter night
speedily closed down.
The barometer showed signs of further hard weather to come, and at
the eight o'clock change of watches the main topgallant-sail, with
the outer jib and upper mizen topsail, came in.
By ten o'clock the following gale had increased to a storm of
considerable force, and after consultation with the chief mate and
Mr. Sennit the skipper decided to put one reef in the main topsail,
and two reefs in the fore topsail; but before going aloft the men
hauled up the mainsail for stowage. It was, of course, an all hands
job, and everyone knew that under such circumstances not much repose
would be possible for several hours.
At that time there was a faint glimmer of moonlight, sometimes
obliterated when a heavy, snow-laden cloud-bank passed overhead, but
on other occasions quite a strong light prevailed for several minutes.
As the men reached the main topsail yard they immediately lay out
toward the yardarms, and down on all a blinding snow-squall swooped.
Even men close together could scarcely see each other, and nothing
whatever of the ship. Nevertheless they set about reefing the
canvas; it was so wet and stiff that, until the squall drove ahead,
no hold could be obtained. The sail was like a great balloon in
front of the yard.
In the 'slings' Mr. Statten was shouting like a bull, and up from the
deck a faint 'Bear a hand!' occasionally struggled. In such a
smother, and with a sail board-stretched by wind, it was impossible
to act quickly.
At last the squall drove ahead. The moon struggled hard to cast a
feeble gleam on the scene, and once more the officer sang out for
another trial of strength.
One reef was 'tied up'; but while engaged on another someone suddenly
yelled--Jack Clewlin thought that a hand had fallen from the
yard--and pointed at a mysterious-looking object ahead.
Jack had never seen such a weird spectacle, and for some time he
could not imagine what it was. A huge, faintly traceable, and
greenish-coloured mountain of mist, here and there cut into towering
pinnacles; it appeared right across the course of the vessel. He was
not long left in doubt.
Men more intimately acquainted with those stormy and dangerous seas
knew at once the peril in which the scudding ship was placed, and in
stentorian tones down to the deck went the cry, 'Ice right ahead!
Starboard, hard a-starboard!'
Instantly all hands dropped the work on which they were engaged, and
by backstay and rigging slid down to man the braces. At the same
moment every trace of moonlight vanished behind another black and
snow-laden cloud driving across its face.
The wall of ice was no longer visible, and as the vessel came to the
wind a great sea burst in over the weather quarter, almost filling
the deck, but doing no more harm than soaking all hands to the skin,
and lifting some of the fellows nearly over the rail; hanging on to
the ropes they were hauled back in safety.
All that while the 'Ocean Glory' was forging ahead, everyone
momentarily expecting to feel her crash on the ice, yet, most
fortunately, such a disaster did not occur. More astonishing than
all was the sudden subsidence of the storm, for the sea had become
almost smooth.
Captain Thorne knew what that indicated, and very cheerily he sang
out on his crew.
'She's clear, and under the lee of the berg, men!' he cried.
'Ay, ay, sir,' some of them returned; 'and it was a close shave, no
mistake. But for that saving gleam of moonlight, she had smashed her
nose against it long ago.'
There was to be no more racing that night.
When the hands had slipped into dry clothing they were again sent
aloft to stow the upper topsails, and the ship lay-to till daylight,
afraid to proceed too hastily, in case other ice dangers might prove
more disastrous. A double lookout was kept fore and aft.
With the first show of daylight, and as the water ahead seemed free
of obstruction, out went all the reefs, whole topsails were
mastheaded, and in magnificent style the beautiful clipper again
raced away on a true course. Several immense bergs some of them
computed to be two or three miles long, were seen far off on the
starboard beam, but during the remaining time spent in those low
latitudes no more ice was sighted.
When once assured of that, Captain Thorne determined to make up for
the few hours' detention during that eventful night. The whole main
top-gallant-sail was sheeted home and set, while even to the surprise
of Mr. Sennit, who had had long experience of his superior, an order
to 'rig out both stu'n's'l booms' was passed.
Eyeing each other in amused astonishment the men immediately sprang
aloft to execute the command.
'She'll scarcely bear it!' one exclaimed. 'I believe she's doing
fourteen knots now.'
'Ay, ay,' another fellow replied; 'but I heard him tell the mate he
meant to knock another one out of her, and shouldn't mind losing a
few booms to win the race.'
She was running dead before the wind, and the setting of those
topmast studding-sails was a difficult matter. Nevertheless, they
were soon pulling like horses at their booms, and had not everything
been of the finest material nothing could have prevented an accident.
'What do you think of this, Readyman?' Jack smilingly inquired, as
with great mounds of white foam gleaming round her bows the 'Ocean
Glory' raced home in a truly surprising manner. 'We've never done
such sailing before.'
'And likely never will again,' the quarter-master replied. 'I
thought the "Silver Crown" could do a decent bit of scooting, but
this one would beat her hollow. Just look how she cuts into
everything like a knife, and she loaded to the scuppers.'
As the course was presently altered slightly to the northward, more
canvas was spread. Day by day runs of nearly four hundred miles
became quite common. The weather grew much warmer and less
boisterous, the Falkland Islands were passed, and without incident
worthy of notice the equator was again crossed for the second time
that voyage; but there the ship was unfortunately delayed by want of
wind. However, the hands were kept busy in getting her ready for
port, the decks were holystoned fore and aft, and after that paint
and tar pots became the order of the day.
Three days after crossing the line the Australian clipper was sighted
crawling northward, and being so much lighter and higher in the
water, she steadily drew level, and signalled her surprise at finding
her rival so much ahead, but that of the 'Flying Scud' nothing had
been seen.
At last the first of the north-east trade wind began to fill the
canvas. The ship drew away north, and after a splendid passage of
eighty-five days from San Francisco she sighted the Irish coast in
the vicinity of Cape Clear. An increasing south-westerly breeze took
her along in good style.
Jack Clewlin, full of delight at once again seeing the outlines of
his native land rising along the horizon a-lee, could not be induced
to leave his lookout perch on the fore royal yard, and was the first
to hail the deck with a tremendous outburst of joy, 'Stonewell
lighthouse right ahead, sir!'
Half an hour later a pilot came alongside, and for some seconds his
ears tingled with the oft-repeated inquiry, 'Has the "Flying Scud"
arrived?'
'No,' the man replied. 'We've been watching for her or you the last
couple of days. You have won the prize.'
A hearty cheer greeted the announcement.
The 'Ocean Glory' dropped her anchor in the outer roadstead of
Stonewell Harbour, and after a voyage of three years and ten months,
Jack Clewlin, now a tall, broad-shouldered young fellow of twenty,
completed his sea apprenticeship.
His father lost no time in reaching the ship, gripped his son in a
warm handshake, and heard from Jack himself how much the lad
appreciated a life afloat.
Four days later the 'Flying Scud' arrived, and a cheer greeted her
disappointed crew.
To Readyman Captain Clewlin returned his warmest thanks for the
advice and assistance afforded his son, and the good old
quarter-master felt considerable regret on parting from his young
shipmate.
The two ships received orders to proceed to Liverpool, where Jack
received his indentures, marked with the words, 'The within has been
fulfilled to our entire satisfaction.'
With his father he soon returned home, and thus ended the many
remarkable incidents connected with 'a boy's adventures round the
world.'
THE END
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