“Seven bells.”
At sea, they never say eight, nine, ten, eleven, or half-past eleven o’clock. There is a large bell at the forecastle, which is tapped every half-hour. At half-past twelve, it receives one tap; which is called “one bell.” At one o’clock, it is tapped twice: that is, “two bells.” At half-past one, it is tapped three times: that is “three bells;” and so on, till four o’clock, which time is “eight bells.” Then at half-past four “one bell” is struck again; at five o’clock, “two bells;” and so on, up to eight o’clock, which is “eight bells,” again. Commencing at half-past eight, “one bell” is again sounded, “two bells” at nine; and so on till twelve, when “eight bells” is reached once more. So, when the mate told me it was “seven bells,” it will be perceived that it was half-past eleven.
I tried to sleep again, and succeeded. How long I slept, I could not tell; but when I awoke again, the vessel was tossing about fearfully, and the waves dashing over her fore and aft, with a fierceness that threatened to burst her to pieces. But the wind had suddenly lulled. Not a breath of air was stirring; the lower main top-sail was flapping idly about; they had lost control of the ship, because she would no longer steer when the wind ceased; and so, falling fairly into the trough of the sea, she could not struggle up over the billows; and there she lay at the mercy of the waves, being buffeted by them without any mercy at all.
It was indeed a perilous time. The captain, with his many years of experience at sea, knew our danger; but what could be done? Should this state of things continue long, the ship must inevitably be beaten to pieces. All hands had been called on deck; and I got out of my bunk and struggled to the cabin-door. I opened it a little way, but a fearful sea swept over and dashed it shut in my face. I could hear the voice of the captain giving hurried commands to the sailors who were at work securing the rigging. The shrouds were growing slack, and it was every minute expected that the masts would be carried away.
No breeze came; and probably the angry sea would have crushed us down then and there, but that the clouds gathered thickly over, and a heavy rain came pattering upon the agitated waters—a very unusual accompaniment of a north-west wind.
It may be wondered, by the uninitiated, how a heavy shower of rain could help us. It is not generally known that rain has a soothing effect on the angry sea. Yet, such is the case. No matter how fiercely the waves are running, let the wind lull, and a brisk rain of an hour will take all the rough edge off them. It is the dashing and breaking waves that sailors dread. A regular swelling wave, no matter how high it towers, will do no harm, as a vessel will rise with it, and ride lightly over.
This rain of twenty-five or thirty minutes, so far soothed the turbulent waves as to place us out of immediate danger; and not long after, the wind sprung up again, command of the ship was recovered, and so the night passed—and the morning of Sunday, the seventeenth of March, St. Patrick’s Day, dawned upon the wide ocean.
The wind was still blowing freshly, but the sky was clear, the sun shining brightly, and the waves of the sea rolling within the pale of moderation. They still washed the deck at intervals, but I had got used to that, for the deck had scarcely been free from the briny water since the middle of the previous day. The officers and sailors all wore high rubber boots, and oil-cloth hats and clothes. But still, the water dashed over them so violently, that they were wet to the skin all the time. If any one ever asks you, dear reader, whether a sailor’s life is a pleasant one or not, say “No!”
A strong breeze blew all day, and as night approached, it increased to a gale again. I had hoped the storm was over; but a storm at sea seldom subsides entirely within twenty-four hours.