MAN LOST OVERBOARD
At this stage of the voyage hardship had become a habit; rotten tack
and half-cooked cracker hash all went the same way; we were toughened
to the grind. A mess of weevil-ridden hard bread was disposed of by
knocking the worms out and eating what was left, the crumby, mealy
stuff, soggy with damp, was often made more palatable by heating in
the galley with a sprinkle of molasses or a coating of our abundant
sugar. The working of the ship was done in grilling discomfort of
wet clothing, and the cold added its quota to our troubles day after
day. But for all that we were living. The scenes of wild fury that
only those who have run before it in the latitudes of Cape Horn can
understand, spread about us in a fitting panorama to the tragedy
of suffering on our half-drowned deck. Surely the angels must have
wondered at the vast ambition of men who dared such dangers and
lived such hardships; all of which vast ambition could be summed up
in one sentence--the pay of an able seaman out of the port of New
York--eighteen dollars per month, minus "advance" and the deduction for
"slops," leaving the net earning in the neighborhood of ten or eleven
dollars.
We were getting our romance in the raw, however, and, like most things
in this world, we were paying for the show--working our way--through
experiences that only those who go down to the sea in deepwater sailing
ships know anything about.
Endless rows of mighty snarling combers, the howl of sleet-laden wind
tearing through the glistening gear aloft, and the blind rush of
snowstorms, crusting everything with a powdering of white, gave us a
real taste of weather such as I had never experienced before.
"Thank God we are going before it, and not trying to beat back," said
Hitchen to me one night, as he came aft to relieve me at the wheel.
John Aahee, of the starboard watch, disappeared and we thought he had
been lost overboard. For two days we missed him and kept the news from
Black Joe and Kahemuku, who were in a state of low spirits, where the
loss of Aahee would have well-nigh proved fatal. On the third day after
the absence of John he suddenly reappeared, when the boys of our
watch heard a loud knocking on the under side of the forehatch. Having
enjoyed a two days' sleep on the sugar in the 'tween deck, he climbed
in by way of the forepeak, which had been opened in order to rouse up a
barrel of saltpork.
The mate threatened to put him in irons for shirking duty and promised
all sorts of dire punishment. However, the poor Kanaka was so far gone
that it seemed he never would survive, and I believe he was positively
numb when the mate made him finish out the last two hours of the watch
on deck by bending over the bilge pump, "to get the sleep out of your
eyes, you ---- black."
July Fourth found us nearing the end of our southing. We experienced
a moderation in the weather, and set the fore and main t'gans'ls. The
fore t'gans'l split during a squall that blew up before it had been set
an hour, and we at once got busy in sending down this rag and bending
another sail which went with a loud "bang!" during the midwatch, Second
Mate Tom being on deck and Captain Nichols pacing up and down on the
forward side of the wheelhouse.
"There she goes again!" we heard them shouting out on deck, amid the
din of wind and the booming of the seas as they fanned away from the
flare of our bows, when her head doused down into the back of a roller.
The report as the new canvas split was sharp and characteristic, waking
most of us, as it was directly overhead.
"I hope they don't call us out," was the thought expressed by all; we
plunked down in our blankets with a will as though we were going to
wring every last fraction of sleep out of each precious second of the
few hours of the watch.
Our days were becoming more than merely strenuous, they were of that
dead level of sustained hardship where the senses cease to register
the added kicks, but go on in a sort of merciful anesthesia, no doubt
brought about by the toxic action of prolonged fatigue.
On the glorious Fourth, Chow had spread himself to the extent of
favoring the fo'c'sle mess with two large pans of gingerbread, nicely
cut into squares, so that everyone would get his lawful whack. This
gingerbread was a special stunt in baking such as I have never seen
its like before or since. The top crust was flexible, and leathery,
of a deep seal brown. The bottom was hard and usually well burnt. By
grabbing the top crust and the bottom, the middle portion could be made
to stretch at least twice its size and then broken apart, but long
strings like cobwebs would connect the two halves. We blamed it for the
boils that appeared on most of us toward the end of each passage, for
Chow liked to bake it, and we had it at least once a week or oftener.
Poor Frenchy was taken sick during those dismal days, and when he
mustered aft one dog watch, and promptly swooned, we picked our
shipmate up and carried him to his bunk with heavy hearts. If gloom
could kill a man, Frenchy would have cashed in his record during the
next few days. The fo'c'sle was as sad a hole as a man could think of.
Captain Nichols came forward and examined Frenchy during our watch on
deck. This was a sort of concession to the proprieties, as he only
came forward of the main hatch one other time on the voyage that I can
recall. After his professional visit the steward called me aft and
handed me a large tumbler full of a dark liquid called "black draft" by
Australia; it had marvelous cathartic power. I was instructed to give
this to Frenchy at one dose. What it did to him in his weakened state
can be imagined.
The next day the mate came to the fo'c'sle and examined the sick man
and reported aft. Frenchy had said he was much better, which was a
lie, but a wise one. I then prevailed upon Chow to give me some cabin
stew that he was preparing, and with this under his belt and a hook pot
of coffee, cabin style, Frenchy felt better. I also broke out a set of
brand-new underwear that I had been saving against an emergency. It was
extra heavy, and with this on him and the good food, he felt like a new
man. Chow fed Frenchy for three days, and fed him well, after I had
prevailed upon Chips to give him the parrot, Jake. Fortunately Frenchy
recovered before Jake got in his fine work in the galley, for in less
than a week the latter was back under the fo'c'sle head again, having
started his talk about "to hell with the grub," etc. This was more than
Chow could stand, and one night his cage shot out of the lee door of
the galley amid a series of quirks and screeches, and Fred rescued the
bird from a comber that was about to curl over the bulwark.
Our precautions in the way of preventer gear and rolling tackles were
employed as on the passage out, and the relieving tackles were hooked
to the tiller in the after wheelhouse. Captain Nichols also had two
heavy hawsers bighted about the base of the mizzen mast and flaked down
on the cabin top ready to pay out through the quarter chocks should
we by any chance broach to. At the end of these we had constructed two
improvised sea anchors or drags. Under ordinary circumstances we would
have been hove to in such weather as we were having, but the wind was
fair and the captain determined to run before it as long as possible.
Discomfort and hardship on board were not altogether confined to the
fo'c'sle. The after cabin was washed out a number of times and the
mate was swamped by the seas backing up in the waist and running over
the sills of the cabin doors. Mr. Zerk was much less violent during
the stormy days. The hard drive to the south and east put a feeling of
common danger into the minds of all; it had a very beneficial effect.
So far as the psychic aspects of the voyage went, we were happy.
Also, we were, with the possible exception of Black Joe and Kahemuku
of our watch, and the unfortunate Aahee of starboard, a very ready and
smart crowd. When I say possible exception in referring to the Kanakas
I mean that these unhappy people were always running with the crowd,
and while always in the way they bent what beef they had to any gear
we might be hauling on. Sailors have a weird wail, or dirge, without
words, to which they sway at brace or halyards and Black Joe became
proficient in this, throwing his whole spirit into the thing. Even in
those days of actuality the perfect picture of glistening oilskins and
the splashing sea, with the human cry of labor mounting above the snap
of the storm, was driven home to me--and I was mighty wet and tired,
too.
On July tenth we were still going large before a heavy sea. Second Mate
Tom was on deck in the afternoon watch and, the wind having moderated
some, his crowd were aloft shaking the reef out of the fore upper
tops'l. Aahee was on the lee yardarm and as the sail dropped a squall
of wind slapped along suddenly, and he, holding on to the jackstay with
all of his might, turned a complete somersault as his heavy boots shot
up from the footrope. He was wrenched from the yard, his body struck
the belly of the reefed foresail and dashed into the sea. Some claimed
he also struck one of the jib boom guys.
All hands were called and the ship hove to. Mr. Zerk stormed out on
deck mad clean through, and Captain Nichols conned the wheel, myself
and another man from starboard being at the spokes. A half barrel of
oil was broached into the sea as we braced sharp and put down the
helm, manning the lee fore braces with great speed. The main spencer
was hauled out and reefed spanker set while we braced sharp forward.
Mr. Morstad had thrown over two life buoys, but we could not see either
one of them. As we hove to the seas swept over us with redoubled fury,
the racket aloft being frightful. We then realized how hard it was
blowing. Captain Nichols estimated it at from 9 to 10 on the Beaufort
Scale,[9] and the _Fuller_ bore down almost on her beam ends.
[9] The Beaufort Notation, to indicate the force of the wind.
0 Calm.
1 Light airs: just sufficient to give steerage way.
2 Light breeze. Ship under all plain sail 1 to 2 knots.
3 Gentle breeze. " " " " " 3 to 4 "
4 Moderate breeze. " " " " " 4 to 5 "
5 Fresh breeze. Ship close hauled can carry Skysails.
6 Strong breeze. " " " " " Topgallant sails.
7 Moderate gale. " " " " " Reefed topsails.
8 Fresh gale. " " " " " Lower topsails, courses.
9 Strong gale. " " " " " Lower topsails; reefed courses.
10 Whole gale. Hove to, under main lower topsail and reefed foresail.
11 Storm. " " under storm staysails.
12 Hurricane. " " under bare poles.
To launch a boat would have been madness and we watched the sea for a
sight of Aahee or of the life buoys, all, however, without success, as
no doubt he had drowned at once and the buoys were several miles to
windward, while we were drifting off faster than they.
Once hove to we shortened down for the night under lower tops'ls and
storm stays'ls. The death of Aahee was tragic in the extreme; Kahemuku
cried in his bunk, and no means could be found to stop him. Black Joe
said nothing, he ate in silence, and when we went below he turned in
without a word.
They were one less to starboard; only a weak brown man gone, a poor
piece of human wreckage washed loose from that plaything of the storm,
a ship at sea.