Chapter Eight.
A Weird and Startling Experience.
The untimely death of poor Kennedy resulted in my being promoted to the position of first mate of the Stella Maris, young as I was; while the boatswain, who knew nothing of navigation, but was an excellent seaman, was temporarily given the post of second mate, until someone more suited to the position could be found.
At ten o’clock in the morning following our brush with the Malays the hands were mustered for church parade, as on Sundays, and Kennedy’s body was committed to the deep with all solemnity. Monroe read the burial service so impressively that even the lad Julius was visibly affected, while Mrs Vansittart and her daughter—both of them attired in black for the occasion—wept freely. Three days later we arrived in Singapore, and on the following day the yacht was docked for examination and the fitting of the spare propeller.
Upon examination the hull was found to be quite undamaged, yet we must have hit the wreckage, or whatever it was that we ran foul of, a pretty severe blow, for not only was the weed completely scoured off the ship’s bottom where contact had occurred, but the anti-fouling composition had also been removed as effectually as though a scraper had been employed.
We stayed at Singapore exactly a week, and then, with bottom scraped clean, two fresh coats of anti-fouling composition applied, the outside of the hull, up to the level of the rail, repainted, and our spare propeller fitted, we sailed for Hong-Kong. It was Mrs Vansittart’s intention to ship a second and a third mate at Singapore; but she forbore to do so, no suitable men happening to be available during our stay. The temporary arrangement was therefore allowed to stand a little longer, our lady skipper hoping to find what she required at Hong-Kong.
We went to sea in fine weather, and made excellent but uneventful progress during the first four days of the trip. Then, on our fourth night out, when we were in the neighbourhood of the Vanguard Bank, the wind fell light, and finally died away, leaving us becalmed, very much as had happened with us in the Strait of Malacca. This time, however, there was neither land nor craft in sight, and we were therefore under no apprehension of a repetition of our experiences on that occasion. I ought, by the way, to have stated that upon our arrival at Singapore we duly reported our adventure to the authorities, with the result that the British gunboat Cormorant was dispatched to the scene of the outrage. But we were given to understand that it would probably prove exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, to lay hands upon the guilty parties; and as a matter of fact we afterwards learned that the only result of the Cormorant’s visit to the spot was the discovery of a considerable quantity of wreckage and several dead bodies floating about.
As I have said, the wind began to drop late in the afternoon of our fourth day out from Singapore, and by eight bells of the second dog-watch we had lost steerage way. As soon as this happened the matter was reported to Mrs Vansittart, and I enquired whether she wished the engine to be started; but she replied that she was in no especial hurry to reach Hong-Kong, and therefore, as there was no particular reason for pushing on, she would not waste gasoline. The engine was therefore permitted to remain inactive, but we furled all our light canvas, to save wear and tear, and hauled up our courses, leaving the ship under topsails, topgallant sails, and jib.
The fact is that none of us quite knew what to make of the weather. The glass stood fairly high, with a rising rather than a falling tendency, yet the sky was hazy without being exactly overcast. Nor, considering where we were, was the weather particularly hot; the atmosphere, however, seemed surcharged with damp, although no rain fell. With the going down of the sun it fell exceedingly dark, for the moon was far advanced in her last quarter, and did not rise until very late—or rather in the early morning—while the haze was thick enough to shut out the light of the stars effectually. The water was smooth, excepting for a low, easterly swell to remind us of the breeze that had died away.
It chanced to be my eight hours in that night, and, as had become a firmly-established custom on such occasions, I was dining with the saloon party, with all of whom, excepting Julius, I was now upon excellent terms. Mrs Vansittart had graciously listened to my explanation of, and accepted my apologies for, the colossal liberty I had taken in suggesting that she should be locked in her cabin on the memorable night of the piratical attack upon us; and not only had she freely forgiven me, but I believe that, after I had fully explained the motives which actuated me, she felt almost inclined to admit that I was to a certain extent justified. Possibly she would have admitted this but for the fact that such an admission might have been subversive of discipline. Monroe and I had always got on splendidly together; and even the once haughty Miss Anthea had at length thawed completely, even to the extent of singing duets with me and playing my accompaniments while I sang or fiddled. It was only the boy whom I seemed utterly unable to placate; he had taken a violent dislike to me from the very first, and not even the fact that I had undoubtedly saved his life seemed to make any apparent difference in his attitude toward me.
Since leaving Singapore we had resumed our musical evenings after dinner, temporarily interrupted by Kennedy’s death, and we were enjoying ourselves as usual on the evening of which I am now speaking when, while I was playing a violin solo to Miss Anthea’s accompaniment, we were all startled by a sudden but very slight jarring sensation, as though the ship had lightly touched the ground for a moment. I knew that we were in the neighbourhood of the Vanguard, Prince Consort, and Prince of Wales Banks, and although I also knew that, according to our position as determined that afternoon, and the course and distance since run, we ought to be far enough away from them to be perfectly safe, the thought for a moment seized me that in some extraordinary and wholly unaccountable manner we might have been mistaken. Flinging down my violin, I rushed out on deck, closely followed by Mrs Vansittart and Monroe.
On reaching the deck I found that the jar had already created quite a small commotion, the boatswain’s watch being all on the alert, while the hands below, awakened by the unaccustomed sensation, were swarming up to learn what had happened. Parker, the boatswain, was shouting for one hand to bring along the hand lead, and to another to bring a lighted lantern.
My first glance was over the side; but it was so dark that I could see nothing save a faint gleam under the lighted ports. Then the men with the lead line and lantern came along, and we took several casts of the lead. “No bottom”, was the report; but even while the line was being coiled up after the last cast, the same sensation was again experienced, this time a little stronger. And then, while we were debating what it could possibly mean, one of the hands from forward came along and reassured us.
“I know what it is, sir,” he explained. “I’ve felt the very same thing before, and not very far from here, too—while we was lyin’ in Manila harbour. We couldn’t make out what the mischief it was at first; but when the skipper went ashore shortly afterwards they told him that there’d been a slight shock of earthquake.”
The explanation seemed quite reasonable and satisfactory, so after some little further talk we returned to the drawing-room and resumed our music. But shortly afterward we were again disturbed twice by recurrences of the same phenomenon; we accordingly gave it up, and I went off to my cabin, debating within myself whether I should change into my working rig or turn in.
Finally I decided upon the former alternative, since I did not feel much inclined for sleep, and when I had effected the change I went up on deck, thinking that possibly a spell of fresh air would bring on the desired drowsiness.
As I reached the main-deck four bells (ten o’clock) were struck, and the look-out had just responded with the stereotyped cry of “All’s well!” when there occurred another shock, so violent and protracted that some of the hands cried out in terror. It is difficult to gauge the passage of time accurately at such a moment, but I think this shock must have lasted nearly, if not quite, two minutes; and the sensation to which I can most nearly compare it is that of a ship being swept and jolted over the rough surface of a coral reef by a red-hot tide.
So strong and so alarming was the shock that it created something almost amounting to panic among the crew, a few of whom, in their alarm, raised a cry to launch the boats; and it was not without some difficulty that they were eventually persuaded that the yacht was quite uninjured, and that they were therefore far safer on her deck than they could possibly be in any boat. I was not greatly surprised at their alarm, for the phenomenon was of so unusual and startling a character that, to confess the truth, I felt my own self-possession a little inclined to “wilt”, as my companions would probably have put it.
Meanwhile the saloon party, like everybody else, had rushed on deck in alarm, and were eagerly discussing the occurrence. Monroe assured the two ladies that they need not be in the least degree uneasy, since, strange as the phenomenon might be to us, it was really not so very extraordinary or unusual, especially in the region where we now found ourselves; and he was making good headway in his effort to reassure his audience when suddenly there occurred another and still more violent shock. This was so pronounced that it set the sea all a-quiver with ripples, which seemed to run in the direction of all the points of the compass, crossing and recrossing each other at every conceivable angle with such rapidity that the “shaling” of the water was like that of a strong rapid, while the interlacing—so to speak—of the ripples created a sort of network of miniature breakers, easily visible because of the phosphorescence set up.
The jar and jolting of this last shock were so severe that I really began to entertain serious fears as to whether the ship could withstand them. It seemed to me that if the thing continued very long every rivet in her would be shaken or torn out of place, and the entire fabric must fall to pieces; for the deck was now quivering and jolting so violently that, to maintain our footing, we all instinctively clung to the nearest thing we could lay hands upon.
I must confess that I was more than a little astonished at the courage manifested by Mrs Vansittart and her daughter. There could be no doubt that they were greatly alarmed, yet they were more self-possessed than any of the rest of us—so much so, indeed, that Mrs Vansittart’s voice was almost steady as she directed me to find Mackenzie and instruct him to start the engine. “I think I should feel more comfortable if we had the ship under command,” she explained.
I had just executed this commission and returned to the poop, and the ship was already beginning to gather way, when above the hiss of the agitated water a low rumble became audible, increasing with, inconceivable rapidity to a frightful, deafening roar. The vibrations grew still more violent, and suddenly, with an awful, ear-splitting explosion, we saw a great column of flame shoot high into the air, some two miles away and almost directly ahead of us. It looked for all the world as though a gigantic cannon, planted vertically in the sea, muzzle upward, had been discharged, except that the flash of fire, instead of being only momentary, as in the case of a gun, was continuous. It remained visible for quite ten minutes, and probably endured for a much longer period. The emission of flame was accompanied by a frightful roaring sound, like that of a thousand blast furnaces, intermingled with frequent terrific explosions; and we continued to hear these long after we had lost sight of the fire.
At the first outburst of flame I instinctively sprang to the wheelhouse and ordered the dazed and terrified quartermaster to put his helm hard a-port, and let the ship sweep round in a complete half-circle, so that we might get away from the dangerous spot as speedily as possible. But we had hardly begun to turn, in response to our hard-over helm, before dense clouds of steam commenced to rise from the water round about the flame; and these soon obscured it to such an extent that the glare, which at first was almost as strong as daylight, rapidly dwindled until it became merely a great shapeless luminous blotch, growing less and less brilliant until we lost sight of it altogether as we went at full speed ahead away from it. But it was quite a quarter of an hour before we were fairly clear of the extraordinary danger that had so suddenly leaped up in our path; and within the first minute following the explosion great masses of incandescent rock mingled with flaming cinders began to fall about us on all sides, so that I regard it as nothing short of a miracle that none of the larger masses fell upon our decks. Had they done so, we must inevitably have been destroyed. As it was, we were kept busy with the hose for fully half an hour extinguishing the cinders that fell upon our deck.
Not the least remarkable circumstance connected with the phenomenon was that soon after we started the pumps the water rapidly became so hot that the men could not bear the contact of it upon their bare feet, and were obliged to don their sea boots hurriedly. At first we were fearful that the dense clouds of steam generated by the flame would spread and overtake us; but we were spared this, for almost immediately a small breeze sprang up, blowing toward the fire, and as we advanced it strengthened until it became quite a stiff breeze. To this circumstance I attribute the fact that none of our sails were set on fire by the falling cinders, for it necessitated the hurried clewing up and furling of all our canvas.
For a full hour we travelled south at full speed; and then, having apparently run beyond the limit of the danger zone, we shifted our helm and headed east until daylight, when, perceiving no sign of the eruption, and the wind having drawn round from the eastward, we set our canvas and stopped the engine. A week later we arrived at Hong-Kong without further adventure, and were amazed to learn that nothing was known there of the submarine volcanic outburst—for such, of course, it was—from which we had so narrowly escaped destruction. Nor, although we remained a week in the roadstead, during which several craft arrived from the south, and two from the Philippines, could we learn that any others than ourselves had beheld the phenomenon.
Before our arrival at Singapore it had been Mrs Vansittart’s intention to proceed from that port to Manila, she being somewhat curious to see something of the United States’ farthest East possession on our way north. But the United States’ consul at Singapore had very strongly dissuaded her from making such a visit; we therefore skipped the Philippines, and, after spending a week at Hong-Kong, during which the saloon party made a trip to Canton and back, weighed and stood out of the harbour en route for Yokohama.
We had a good run up through the China Sea, doing the trip in ten days from port to port without being obliged to use the engine at all. Arrived in the magical land of the chrysanthemum, our lady skipper “spread herself”, as she graphically expressed it, devoting a full month to the exploration of the country, and returning to the ship loaded down with priceless treasures of porcelain, pictures, carving and lacquer work, mostly designed as presents for her more stay-at-home friends in “little old N’York”, when she should get back. Of course her children went with her, and Monroe, equally of course, “went along” as escort.
While Mrs Vansittart and her party were enjoying themselves the crew also had an opportunity to see something of what many regard as the most wonderful country and people in the world, the same generous rule with regard to shore leave prevailing here as elsewhere. For myself, I did not see nearly as much of the country as I should have liked, for it unfortunately happened that at the time of our visit the relations between Japan and the United States were somewhat strained in connection with the settlement of Japanese subjects on United States soil, and the Stars and Stripes was not altogether welcome in Japanese ports. Indeed, within the first week of our arrival in Yokohama harbour we had reason to suspect that a malicious attempt had been made either to damage or to destroy the yacht; and as she was in my charge during the owner’s absence I did not care to leave her for more than a day at a time—and only once as long as that. But of course it must be understood that such ill feeling as undoubtedly existed was only openly manifested by private persons, and those almost entirely of the lower classes. Official Japan was the very essence of politeness and urbanity whenever we came into contact with it.
There was just one element of regret for Mrs Vansittart in her visit to Japan, and that was the unfortunate fact that Monroe developed typhoid on the very day of the party’s return to Yokohama, and had to be left behind in hospital. She would most willingly have prolonged her stay until the patient’s recovery; but Harper, our doctor, intervened, pointing out that, since our next cruise was to be among the Pacific Islands, it would be most inadvisable for a person newly recovered from typhoid to accompany us, as a relapse would almost certainly follow; and that the better plan would be to arrange for Monroe’s return home direct by mail boat via ’Frisco. This was accordingly done, Mrs Vansittart making every arrangement for the care and comfort of the patient during his sojourn in Yokohama, and his journey to New York in all ease and comfort afterward, before giving the word for our departure.
We hove our anchor out of the mud of Yokohama harbour at ten o’clock on a certain lovely September morning, which, as Mrs Vansittart informed me incidentally, happened to be the anniversary of the yacht’s departure from New York. Starting our engine, we proceeded down Yedo Bay, through Uraga Strait, and so to sea, passing Cape Mela about eight bells in the afternoon watch. Then, to a fine spanking westerly breeze, we set all plain sail and headed south for the Ladrones.
I arrive now at a point where, for a space of over two months, I find no entry in my diary of any incident worthy of special mention; this period may therefore be dismissed with the simple remark that it was spent in visiting several of the most interesting islands in the Pacific archipelago.
We sailed from Taputeuea, in the Gilbert Group, in the middle of November, and for more than a week we headed west, making good headway on the whole, although there were times when we were detained by vexatious calms, to counterbalance which we “carried on” when the wind favoured us and we had a clear sea ahead.
Such happened to be the case on a certain day in the first week of December. We had a slashing easterly breeze behind us, and fine clear weather; and the chart told us that there were no lurking dangers in our path; we therefore gave the yacht the whole flight of studding sails on both sides, and laid ourselves out to make up a little of our lost time. And we were doing so in handsome style, too, for the ship reeled off her fourteen knots hour after hour until the end of the afternoon watch, when the wind suddenly hauled four points to the southward and freshened; and although this shift of wind necessitated our handing our star board studding sails, it gave our fore-and-aft canvas a chance to put in some good work, which it did, the ship’s speed going up to sixteen knots within the next hour. And for a sailing ship, sixteen knots is a very respectable speed, let me tell you, although I can recall more than one occasion when we logged nineteen, and that not only for a brief spell, but for three or four hours at a stretch. Still, sixteen knots is a pretty good pace; and it was an exhilarating sight to watch the rush of the white yacht over that glorious sapphire sea, with every sail accurately set and trimmed and tugging at the beautiful hull like a team of cart horses, the long, weighty swell chasing us, wind-whipped and capped with seething crests of snow-white foam, while the great, glass-smooth bow wave went roaring away on either hand with its hissing and leaping crown of froth sparkling like gems in the rays of the declining sun.
I think Mrs Vansittart was never more proud of her beautiful ship than she was on that particular evening, as she stood with me on the poop and critically marked our rush through the water and every perfection of hull, spar, and sail. The yacht was a lovely picture, even as beheld by us from her poop; but I would have given a trifle for the privilege of seeing her as she must have appeared at such a moment from a passing ship, had there been such a craft. But, as it happened, there was not; we had the sea to ourselves, for we chanced just then to be traversing a stretch of water very rarely frequented by craft of any description.
It happened to be my eight hours out on that particular night, and when, at eight bells of the first watch, I turned the ship over to Parker, the boatswain, we were still reeling off our sixteen knots, with a fresh, steady breeze from the south-east. It was a dark night, for the moon was only two days old, and had set long ago, while a thin veil of cloud hid most of the stars. Had we been in much-frequented waters I should perhaps have considered it a bit reckless to drive the ship so hard through the darkness; but we were not, and I retired to my cabin with an easy mind, and, undressing at once, tumbled into my bunk and fell sound asleep almost as my head touched the pillow.