It was on the 28th July.
We were becalmed, I recollect; but, in spite of this, a strong set of
tide, or some unknown current, was carrying us, in a west-nor'-west
direction, away out of the Bay of Panama, at the mouth of which we had
been rolling and roasting in the broiling tropical sun for a couple of
days, without apparently advancing an inch on our way northwards towards
San Francisco, our destination, which we were now comparatively near, so
to speak, but still separated by a broad belt of latitude of between
eighteen hundred and two thousand miles--a goodish stretch of water!
I also remember well that Captain Snaggs roared so loudly to the mate
and the mate back to him during their altercation in the cuddy that we
on deck could hear every word they said; for, the night was hot and
close, with never a breath of wind stirring, and the air had that
oppressive and sulphurous feel which it always has when there is thunder
about or some great atmospherical change impending.
The skipper and Mr Flinders were arguing about the ship's course, the
former declaring it to be right, and the latter as vehemently to be
altogether wrong.
The mate, so opposite were their opinions, said that if we sailed on
much longer in the same direction towards which the ship had been
heading before being becalmed, she would be landed high and dry ashore
at Guayaquil; while the skipper, as strongly, protested that we were
already considerably to the northward of the Galapagos Islands.
"Ye're a durned fule, an' a thunderin' pig-headed fule ez well," we
heard the captain say to the other, as he came up the companion, roaring
back behind him; "but, jest to show ye how thunderin' big a fule ye air,
I'll jest let ye hev y'r own way--though, mind ye, if the ship comes to
grief, ye'll hev to bear all the muss."
"I don't mind thet, nary a red cent," boasted the other in his sneering
way. "Guess I've a big enuff pile to hum, out Chicago way, to buy up
ship an' cargy ez well!"
"Guess ye shall hev y'r way, bo!" then yelled out the skipper, calling
at the same time to the helmsman to ease the helm off, as well as to the
watch to brace round the yards; and the light land breeze, just then
coming off from shore, made the _Denver City_ head off at right angles
to her previous course, the wash of water swishing pleasantly past her
bows, as her sails bellied out for a brief spell.
But, not for long.
Within the next half-hour or so the heavens, which had previously been
bright with myriads of stars overhead, became obscured with a thick
darkness, while the slight land breeze slowly died away.
Then, a hoarse, rumbling sound was heard under the sea, and the ship was
violently heaved up and down in a sort of quick, violent rocking motion,
unlike any thing I had ever felt, even in the heaviest storm.
"An airthquake, I guess," said Captain Snaggs, nonchalantly; "thet is,
if thaar's sich a thing ez an airthquake at sea!"
He sniggered over this joke; but, just then, I heard the same strange,
weird music, like Sam's banjo, played gently in the distance, similarly
to what we heard before the burst of the storm off Cape Horn.
"Lord, save us!" cried the captain, in hoarse accents of terror. "Thaar
it air agen!"
Even as he spoke, however, the ship seemed to be lifted aloft on a huge
rolling wave, that came up astern of us without breaking; and, then,
after being carried forwards with wonderful swiftness, she was hurled
bodily on the shore of some unknown land near, whose outlines we could
not distinguish through the impenetrable darkness that now surrounded us
like a veil.
We knew we were ashore, however, for we could feel a harsh, grating
noise under the vessel's keel.
Still, beyond and above this noise, I seemed yet to hear the wild, sad
chaunt that haunted us.
There was a light hung in the galley, and I looked in again to see if
the negro's banjo was in its accustomed place, so as to judge whether
the sound was due to my imagination or not.
Holding up the lantern, I flashed its light across the roof of the
galley.