"Listen!"
The wind had suddenly died away for a moment, although the sea was like
an ocean of mountains lumbering over each other; and as I `listened', as
Jim the sailor had told me, I heard a musical sound that I instantly
recognised. It was that of the negro cook's banjo, and Sam's voice,
too, most unmistakably, singing the same old air I knew so well:
"Oh, down in Alabama, 'fore I wer sot free."
The instrument seemed to give out a double twang at this point, as if
all the strings were twitched at once, and I noticed that Captain
Snaggs, who stood near me, turned as white as a sheet.
"Thunder!" he exclaimed, his eyes almost starting out of his head. "The
Lord hev mercy on us! What air thet?"
As if in answer to his question, the same wild, ghostly melody was
repeated, the sound seeming to hover in the air and yet to come from
underneath the deck under our feet, the tune swelling in intensity as we
all listened, so that every man on board must have heard it as well as
the captain and myself.
And then, just as the last bar was struck with another resounding twang,
a fiercer blast than the first caught the ship on her port quarter, and
she heeled over to starboard until her deck was almost upright, while at
the same time a terrible wave washed over us fore and aft, sweeping
everything movable overboard.
I held on to the weather rigging like `grim Death,' amidst a mass of
seething foam, that flowed over the poop as if it were the open sea,
with the roar of rushing waters around me and the whistling and
shrieking of the wind as it tore through the shrouds and howled and
wailed, sweeping onward away to leeward.
The spirit of the storm seemed to have broken loose; its black
cloud-wings covering the heavens and fanning up the waves into fury, and
then hurling them at the _Denver City_, which, poor, stricken thing,
quailed before the onslaught of the cruel blast and remorseless rolling
billows which followed each other in swift succession. These bore her
down, and down, and down, until she was almost on her beam-ends,
labouring heavily and groaning and creaking in every timber, and looking
as if she were going to capsize every instant.
Not a man on board but thought his last hour had come.
The noise of the raging elements, however, in this mad commotion at once
drowned the sound of the weird, mysterious music that had previously
filled the air, affecting us all so strangely, especially Captain
Snaggs, who seemed to be stricken by a spell as long as the sad strain
echoed in our ears. But, the moment that we ceased to hear the phantom
chaunt, the skipper recovered himself, his sailor instincts getting the
better of his superstitious fears and sudden fright.
Fortunately, he had clutched hold of the poop rail as the fierce gust
caught the vessel, or, otherwise, he would have been carried over the
side, and be struggling for dear life half a mile, at least, astern,
where the hen-coops and casks that had been washed overboard were now
bobbing about, as they sank slowly out of sight on the crest of the wave
that had cleared our decks.
A thorough seaman, in spite of his malevolent disposition and bullying
manner, which, I suppose, he could not help, he knew at once what was
best to be done under the circumstances--what, indeed, was the only
thing that would save the ship, and which, if it could be done, had to
be done quickly.
Still grasping the rail with one hand, he made a motion with the other
to Jan Steenbock to put the helm up, for the second-mate, being on the
poop, had immediately jumped to the wheel to the assistance of the man
there, who had as much as he could do single-handed to keep down the
spokes, the ship steering wildly in such a heavy, tumbling sea as was
boiling around us. The captain the next moment clambered to the
mizzen-topsail sheets and halliards, and let them go by the run, an
example that was instantly followed by those on the deck below, Tom
Bullover, who was in charge there, anticipating the skipper's intention,
although he could not catch the order he bawled out at the same time
that he lifted his hand to warn the helmsman--the terrible din kept up
by the waves and wind alike preventing a word from reaching any one
standing a yard beyond Captain Snaggs, had he spoken through a speaking
trumpet and been possessed of lungs of brass!
At first, it looked as if these measures had been adopted too late, the
vessel lay so helplessly over on her side; but, in a little while,
although it seemed a century to us, with our lives trembling in the
balance, during the interval of a brief lull she slowly righted again.
Then, paying off from the wind, she plunged onward, pitching and rolling
and careering before the gale as it listed, yawing to port and starboard
and staggering along; throwing tons of water over her fo'c's'le as she
dived and then taking in whole seas over her quarter as she rolled on,
the following waves overtaking her--just like a high mettled steed that
had thrown its rider and was rejoicing in its temporary freedom.
The canvas aloft was ballooning out, and the ropes slatting and
cracking, with blocks banging against the spars, all making a regular
pandemonium of noise, in conjunction with the hoarse shriek of the
sou'-wester and the clashing of the billows when they broke, buffeting
the _Denver City_ as if they would smash in her topsides at every blow!
Mr Flinders, the first-mate, who had got his arm hurt shortly before
the first blast struck us and had gone below to have it bound up by the
steward, now crawled up the companion and approached the skipper,
shouting something in his ear that, of course, I could not catch.
Captain Snaggs, however, apparently understood what he said, and
approved of his suggestion, for he nodded in answer; and, thereupon, the
first-mate, working his way down again through the cabin on to the deck
below, the poop ladder being unsafe with his injured arm, spoke to the
men, who were holding on as well as they could in a group by the
mainmast bitts, and they began to bestir themselves.
Something was evidently going to be done to relieve the ship of all the
loose top hamper flying about aloft, which threatened every moment to
drag the masts out of her, for everything was swaying to and fro, and
the topsails jerking terribly as they swelled out, the clews fouling the
reef points as the wind threw them up, and all getting mixed in
irretrievable confusion from the continual slatting of the canvas--for
the whole of the running gear, having been let go, was now dangling
about in all directions and knotting itself up in the standing rigging,
round which the wind whipped the ropes, lashing them into a series of
bowlines and half-hitches that it would have puzzled a fisherman to
unbend.
When the storm had burst so suddenly on us, the ship had been braced up
on the port tack, beating to windward as well as she could, to weather
Cape Horn; but now, of course, we were running right before the gale,
retracing at headlong speed every knot we had previously gained on our
true course.
A few hours at this rate, as anyone with half an eye could see--even if
everything stood the strain, which was very questionable--would place us
on the chart pretty well where we were the day before; and, then, we
should have all our work to do over again, without having a cable's
length to boast of to the good so far as our onward progress was
concerned into the Pacific Ocean--most aptly named by the Spaniards,
from the marked contrast its placid bosom offered, no doubt, to the
rough sea these early voyagers met with on this side of the Land of Fire
and of the Stormy Cape.
But still, although we were scudding with everything flying aloft, the
leebraces had not yet been let go, all that I have taken so long to
describe having occurred, so to speak, within the compass of a minute.
These, up to now, had remained fast, just as when we were close-hauled
on the port tack the moment before; for, it was as much as our few hands
could do at first to cast off the sheets and halliards, without minding
the braces, especially as the ropes had got jammed at the bitts with the
loose gear washing about the deck. However--`better late than never'--
they were now quickly let go, and the braces on the weather side being
manned, the yards were squared. It was a job of some difficulty,
although accomplished at length, the ship showing herself all the better
for the operation by running easier and not staggering and yawing so
much as she raced along.
This was the first step.
The next was to stop the uproar aloft, and create a little order amidst
the chaos that there reigned, which was a much harder and far more
ticklish task, it being perilous in the extreme, and almost useless, for
any of the hands to venture up the rigging; for the wind was blowing
with such terrific force that they could not have possibly lain out on
the yards, even if they succeeded in reaching the futtock shrouds.
It was no good shouting to the men.
As I said before, they could not hear a word spoken, had it been bawled
in the loudest tone; so, Mr Flinders managed to explain his purpose by
signs, or some other means that I could not at the moment guess, for Tom
Bullover and the rest of the crew at once commenced hauling on the
maintopsail sheets.
The effect of this was almost instantaneous.
Puckering up into a bag where, as I mentioned, the clew had fouled the
reef points, the sail burst `bang' out of the boltropes with a noise
like thunder; and, then, carried forwards by the gale, it floated away
ahead, fortunately just clearing the foretopmast, which might have been
broken by the extra strain--the fluttering mass of canvas finally
disappearing, like a white kite, in the distance in the water ahead of
the ship.
Getting rid of this sail was even a greater relief to the over-driven
vessel than squaring the yards had been, a consequence which the
first-mate and carpenter had fully anticipated when the sheets were
manned; so, a similar procedure was adopted with the fore-topsail, and a
like happy result followed, the ship still driving on before the wind,
very nearly at as great a rate as she had done before, although under
bare poles almost.
But she now steered more easily, not taking in such a lot of water
aboard when she rolled, while the spars ceased to sway about, and it
looked as if we should save them, which had seemed impossible a short
time previously, from the ugly way in which the shrouds tightened, and
the after-stays sung, as if they were stretched to the last limit,
showing that the slightest increase of the strain on them would snap
them like pack-thread.
The mizzen-topsail was by this time our only rag left remaining, and the
captain, evidently wishing to save this, so as to use it by-and-by when
the gale lulled, to help in bringing the vessel round again to the wind,
started off by himself hauling on the buntlines and clewlines, being
quickly aided by Jan Steenbock and little me--we being all the `hands'
on the poop except the helmsman, whom the second-mate was able at last
to leave for a minute or so unassisted, from the fact of the ship having
become more tractable since she had lost all that lot of loose top
hamper flapping about aloft.
The three of us took `a long pull and a strong pull, and a pull all
together,' according to the old sailor phrase, I tugging my best with
the others; and, possibly the ounce or two of `beef' I was able to put
into the rope so far assisted as just to turn the scale. At all events,
we ultimately succeeded in clewing up the topsail pretty fairly;
although, of course, it could not be properly stowed until some of the
hands were able to get up on the yard and snug it comfortably by passing
the sea-gaskets.
So far, everything had been accomplished satisfactorily, and the ship
was running free before the gale at the rate of ten or twelve knots, or
more, without a stitch of canvas set beyond the bunt of the
mizzen-topsail, which bagged and bulged out a bit still, in spite of our
efforts to clew it up tight.
But, now, a new danger arose.
We were bowling along before the wind, it is true; but, the heavy
rolling sea that had been worked up in a brief space of time was
travelling at a much faster rate, and there was every fear that one of
the monster billows which each moment curled up threateningly in our
wake would hurl itself on board, thus pooping the vessel and rendering
her altogether unmanageable, if not a hopeless wreck--such a mass of
water as the big waves carried in their frowning crests being more than
sufficient to swamp us instanter, and, mayhap, bury the poor _Denver
City_ deep in the depths below at one fell blow.
Captain Snaggs saw this sooner than any one; and, although all his
previous orders had been carried out in dumb show, from our now having
the wind with us to waft his voice forward, he once more managed to make
himself heard.
"Ahoy!" he shouted, putting his hands on either side of his mouth, to
carry the words well clear of his goatee beard, which was blown all over
his face. "On deck, thaar!"
Tom Bullover raised his right fist, to show that he caught the hail; but
it was impossible for him to answer back in the very teeth of the gale.
"We must try an' lay her to," continued the skipper. "Hev ye got a
tarpaulin, or airy sort o' rag ye ken stick in the fore-riggin'?" Tom
nodded his head, understanding what the captain meant in a jiffey; and,
with the help of two or three others, a piece of fearnought, that lay in
the bottom of the long-boat, was quickly bundled out on the deck and
dragged forwards, the men bending on a rope's-end to a cringle worked in
one corner of the stuff, so as to hoist it up by.
"Over to port! Over to port!" roared the skipper, seeing them making
for the lee side of the ship. "I'm goin' to try an' bring her to on
thet tack, d'ye haar?"
Another nod from the carpenter showed that he heard and appreciated the
command, he and the group with him by great exertions tricing up the
piece of fearnought into the fore-shrouds on the side indicated,
spreading the cloth out and lashing it outside the rigging.
"Now, men," cried Captain Snaggs, "some o' ye aft hyar! Look sharp an'
man the cro'jack braces."
"Dat vas goot," I heard Mr Jan Steenbock say behind me, his voice
coming right into my ear; "dat vas ze very tings!"
The skipper heard him, too.
"I guess ye're worth yer salt, an' knows what's what!" he screamed back,
with his face shoved into that of the second-mate, so that he should
catch the words. "Stand by to cast off the clewlines agen, an' slack
out the weather sheet, if we wants it!"
"Aye, aye!" roared Jan Steenbock, in answer, jumping to the belaying
pins, to cast off the ropes as ordered. "I vas dere!"
And so was I, too, following his example, ready to bear a hand when the
necessity arose.
"Send another hand or two hyar aft, to the wheel!" now yelled out the
captain, on seeing that Tom Bullover had marshalled the watch on the
deck below at the crossjack braces, ready to ease off on the weather
side, and haul in gradually to leeward--so that the yard should not be
jerked round suddenly, and risk carrying away the mizzen-top mast and
all its hamper with the shock; and, finally, with a motion of his arm,
which those at the wheel readily understood, he ordered the helm to be
put down.
It was a critical moment.
The ship seemed a trifle stubborn, and would not obey the rudder, lying
sluggishly in the trough of the sea for a while, but the tail end of a
big wave then catching her on the quarter, she slewed round a bit; and,
the crossjack yard being braced up sharply in the nick of time, she
swung with her head to the wind, breasting the billows full butt the
next instant, instead of drifting on at their will as before.
Jan Steenbock at once let go the clewlines; and the sheets of the
mizzen-topsail, which had already been close-reefed, being hauled home,
and the piece of fearnought in the fore-rigging acting as well as a sail
there would have done, the vessel was brought to lay-to at last, riding
safely enough, considering the heavy sea that was running, and thus
showing herself a staunch boat under very trying circumstances.
"We've seen the worst of it now," shouted the skipper, trying to rub his
hands together, in token of his satisfaction, but having to leave off
and grasp the poop rail to steady himself again from the ship pitching
so much, as she met the big waves tumbling in on her bows, and rose to
them buoyantly. "The gale is moderating so the watch ken pipe down, I
guess, an' all hands splice the mainbrace!"
The men couldn't hear him clearly, but the gesture which he made, of
lifting his fist to his mouth, was sufficiently explanatory to all; and,
when he presently dived down the companion and appeared at the cabin
door under the break of the poop, with the steward behind him, holding a
bottle of rum in one hand and a pannikin in the other, the men who had
so gallantly exerted themselves were to be seen standing by, ready to
receive the customary grog always served out on each occasions, fresh
hands being sent up to relieve those at the wheel, so that these should
not lose the advantage of the skipper's generosity--which was somewhat
unexpected from one of his temper!
Later on, there was a glorious sunset, the black clouds all clearing
away, and the heavens glowing with red and gold, as the orb of day sank
below the horizon.
This showed that we were going to have the chance of a finer spell than
we had been having; and, the wind soon afterwards shifting to the
westward, the foretop-mast-staysail was hoisted, followed shortly by the
reefed-foresail and main-trysail, the skipper setting all the fore and
aft sail he could to make up for the loss of our topsails, which, it may
be remembered, were blown away.
The ship was then brought round on the starboard tack, and put on her
proper course again, for us to make another attempt to weather Cape
Horn.
By the time all this was done it was quite dark, and getting on close to
`six bells' in the second dog-watch, the sun sinking to rest early in
those latitudes; so, as none of the men had got their tea yet, or
thought of it, for that matter, although they'd had nothing since their
dinner at midday, Hiram Bangs, calling me to follow him, started for the
galley, to see about the coppers.
We found, however, that the seas we had taken aboard had washed the fire
out and made a regular wreck of the place, everything being turned
topsy-turvy and mixed up into a sort of "hurrah's nest."
Indeed, the only wonder was, that the galley itself had not been carried
incontinently over the side, when the ship had canted over on her
beam-ends; and, it would have been, no doubt, but for its being so
securely lashed down to the ringbolts in the deck--a precaution which
had saved it when everything else had been swept to leeward.
At all events, there it was still, but in a pretty pickle; and Hiram and
I had a hard job to light up the fire again under the coppers, all the
wood and coal that had not been fetched away by the sea being, of
course, wet and soddened by the water.
"I guess," said Hiram, after one or two failures to get the fuel to
ignite, in spite of his pouring a lot of oil on it, so as to neutralise
the effect of the damp, "I'll burn thet durned old kiver of my chest ez
got busted t'other day in the fo'c's'le; fur it ain't no airthly good,
ez I sees, fur to kip pryin' folk from priggin' airy o' my duds they
fancies!"
With this, Hiram started off for the fo'c's'le, taking one of the ship's
lanterns with him, to see what he was about.
He returned a minute or two after, looking quite scared.
"Say, Cholly," he exclaimed--addressing me as all the rest in the
fo'c's'le always styled me, following the mode, in which poor Sam
Jedfoot had pronounced my name, instead of calling me "Charley,"
properly, all darkeys having a happy facility for abbreviation, as I
quite forgot to mention before--"Say, Cholly, guess I'll kinder make yer
haar riz! What d'yer reckon hez happened, b'y, hey?"
"What, Hiram?" replied I, negligently, not paying any particular
attention to his words, having started to work at once, chopping up the
box cover, which he had thrown down on the deck at my feet. "What has
happened, Hiram--whatever is the matter now?"
"Thar's matter enuff, I reckon, younker," said he solemnly, in his deep,
impressive tones. "Guess this air shep's sperrit-haunted, thet's all,
my b'y, an' the whole bilin' of us coons aboard air all doomed men!"