THE HURRICANE
At two o'clock in the morning of our fifth day from Suva, I was awakened
by hearing the booms and gaffs swinging as if in a calm. I thought this
very strange, as the southeast trades should have held until we were
well across the Equator. Rushing up on deck, I was indeed surprised to
find the sails hanging in midships, and not a breath from any quarter of
the compass.
I ordered the staysails down and the topsails clewed up and made fast,
also the flying-jib and outer jib. (These lighter sails in a calm
usually flop to pieces, especially where there is a rolling swell.) Away
to the eastward I noticed a heavy bank of clouds, but considered this of
minor importance, as we were nearing the Equator. It usually means heavy
rain, but seldom wind.
Yet this morning there was something out of the ordinary, because of the
long swell coming from the northeast, and the sickly and suffocating
atmosphere. The unusual stillness was intensified by the murmuring and
talking of the crew. The men who were making fast the headsails on the
flying jibboom could be heard plainly from the poop deck, growling and
swearing as they passed the gaskets around the sails. Such was the
funereal quietness of the morning that even the stars were hidden in
halos of a yellowish color.
Giving instructions to haul in the log line, I went below to look at the
barometer. I was surprised to find it falling. I next consulted a
Pacific directory, and found that these unusual conditions preceded a
hurricane. This information upset me greatly. I had never experienced a
hurricane, but well knew that their force and destructive power was very
great.
Before going on deck again, I looked in on the Hindoo in the Captain's
room. As usual, he was in a stupor, and looked as if he had not moved
since being fed the preceding evening. I did notice from the heaving of
the skeleton-like breast, that the breathing was regular, and not
intermittent as it had been on the preceding evening.
On deck, I had all the reef-earrings brought up from the lazarette, and
got everything in readiness for any emergency.
I was well to the westward of the Gilbert group, but still to the
eastward of the 180th Meridian. Should the hurricane come out of the
east, I could heave to and ride it out without any danger of fetching up
on one of the Gilbert Islands.
In the cabin the barometer was falling so fast that it now showed
hurricane weather. I knew that it was only a question of a few hours
before we should feel its fury. My experience was limited in the laws of
storms. If we were in the storm center it would be necessary to put her
into the port tack. By doing this I should be forced south, and back
onto the northern isles of the Fiji group, while on a starboard tack I
should be driven onto a lee shore of the Gilbert Islands. Either course
meant destruction.
With daylight and hot coffee this gloomy situation assumed a more
cheerful aspect. While the old sailor has the light of day to guide him
over storm-tossed decks, he becomes more tolerant of ship and crew.
At half-past five the white caps could be seen coming from the
northeast, and before we got the spanker down the gale struck us, about
six points on the starboard bow. The old ship reeled to leeward, with
the lee rail under water. The decks were almost perpendicular. It seemed
that no power on earth could right her to an even keel again. There were
two men at the wheel, trying to keep her off before the gale, but it was
of no avail, for she refused to answer her helm, and lay throbbing as if
undecided whether to seek a watery grave, or to continue her fight for
victory.
Swanson, by a heroic effort, cut the fore and main sheet, and then let
go by the run. The tense situation was relieved as the booms flew
seaward over the lee rail. We then kept her off before the gale with the
wind on the starboard quarter, immediately setting to work to reef the
fore and main sail.
By nine o'clock, three hours and a half later, it was no longer a gale,
but a hurricane. With three reefs in the foresail and a goose-wing
spanker, we ran before it. It was too late to heave to. With such a
tremendous sea running it would mean destruction to ship and crew to
try the latter move. As it was, the ship was awash fore and aft from
seas breaking over her. Should the hurricane hold out for ten or twelve
hours more with our present rate of speed we should be dashed to pieces
against one of the Gilbert group.
At four bells the velocity of the hurricane was so great that one was in
danger of being blown off the schooner. We rigged life-lines on the fore
and main decks, also on the poop deck, and by their help the crew
managed to keep from being washed or blown overboard. The sea looked
like an immense waterfall, one enormous roaring mass of foam.
Occasionally from out of this terrible cataract a Himalayan sea would
gain in momentum and dash itself against our starboard quarter,
submerging the vessel. At such times all that would be identifiable of
the "Wampa" would be her rocking spiral masts.
Like a struggling giant she would raise her noble head and shake herself
clear of this octopus, shivering, but never spent.
About noon the hurricane jumped suddenly from the northeast to east
southeast, without losing any of its velocity. In order to keep running
before it, and keep the wind on our starboard quarter we hauled more to
the northward and westward, although to do this it was necessary to
drive into a beam sea, which made it all the more dangerous. Also the
sea was driving from the east southeast and this formed a cross sea.
When these two seas came together, the "Wampa" would rise and poise on
them as if on a pivot. In this position, and with the gale blowing on
the starboard quarter, her head would be thrown into the beam sea. It
looked as if we could not survive. There was constant danger of our
being broken up into small pieces. We dropped the peak of the spanker
that formed the goose-wing sail, put it into gaskets, and ran with a
three-reefed foresail.
We then put the oil-bags over the stern in the hope of quieting these
angry seas. But this was useless. While we were fastening the lines that
held the oil-bags in the water, a crushing comber came whistling along
and filled our stanch little ship again from stem to stern. When she
shook herself clear of the boiling foam I noticed that our oil-bags
were gone, and with them the Captain's boat which hung from davits over
the stern.
Old Charlie and Dago Joe were steering. Old Charlie had a faraway look
in his watery eyes as he spoke and said:
"I am afraid, sir, this will be my last trick at this wheel."
I spoke harshly to this old sailor, saying, "To Hell with sentiment,
this is no place for it. Watch your steering and don't feel sorry for
yourself." Had I known what was so soon to happen I should not have so
upbraided this poor harmless old soul. I have often regretted it.
Riley, who was taking no chances, was seemingly not all handicapped by
his one eye. Always alert and as agile as a tiger, he went about the
decks as if nothing were out of the ordinary, although to hear him
talking to himself one would think that he expected to be extinguished
by every sea that came. He had about twenty feet of manila rope tied
about his waist with the end held in his hand. When a sea would hit us
Riley would see it coming, and would pass the rope end around a
belaying-pin or anything that he thought would hold his weight.
It was while she cleared herself from the sea that carried away the
Captain's boat that I found Riley twisted around the spanker sheet like
an eel. It took him some time to extricate himself, always watching the
progress of the stern sea, and not seeming to notice his number ten
brogans, which had woven themselves into the spanker-sheet falls. The
hurricane was raising havoc with Riley's mustache. Having blown all over
his face, it looked as if the only way to quiet it would be to put it
into a plaster of Paris cast. He finally pulled himself clear of the
sheet, exclaiming:
"Be Hivins, and wasn't that a close call--"
Just then Swanson came running aft and reported that the martingale guy
had carried away on the flying-jibboom. It was then that my heart sank
within me. I knew what to expect. Dismantled,--then to perish at sea!