Towards mid-day on Thursday the gale broke a little, that is to say, there were longer intervals between the squalls, but it was an anxious time, for we were off Cape Karempi, and the most dangerous part of the Black Sea navigation lies between this point and Cape Aia on the northern coast. Nearly half the wrecks take place near this cape. The currents are numerous and very strong, and for more than a hundred miles not a harbour nor place of refuge is to be found. Alas! for the luckless vessel which may be driven too near these cruel rocks! Little hope for her in a northerly gale, should this iron-bound coast, with its miles of foaming breakers, come in sight.
Many were the anxious inquiries we made as to our position with reference to this dreaded cape. Happily, we had every reason to believe that we were well out to sea, and the vessel now lay-to, without shipping a drop of water.
Although worn out with fatigue, it was impossible to sleep all Thursday night, so tremendous was the rolling. We were quite black and blue from the bruises we had in consequence of being so tossed from side to side in our cots.
On Friday morning both sea and wind became more moderate, and for many hours we slept the sound sleep of the tired. In the afternoon we bethought ourselves of our unfortunate menagerie, and went to see how the poor creatures had fared during the storm.
The unlucky geese had been the greatest sufferers. Little they thought when they left the peaceful farmyard at Karani of what was in store for them. The water had been so constantly over the fore part of the vessel, and the cold had been so great, that the men had good-naturedly taken the poor things to the forecastle.
One luckless goose, however, either from fright or from having imprudently committed a slight excess in drinking half a bottle of turpentine, had been seized with fits, and remained in an alarming state for many hours. We were much grieved, thinking her last moment had come, for she was lying on her back, feebly kicking in a deplorable fashion, when, with a supreme effort, she dragged herself into the coal-hole, and convulsively began to swallow some bits of coal.
We left in sadness, thinking this could only be the last expiring struggle; but an hour later we received a bulletin to say the patient was not only alive, but better, and in the evening she was pronounced convalescent, her remedy having proved most effectual.
However, between the fits and the coals, our friend presents a lamentable spectacle: the fits have caused her wings to twist inside out, and the coals have given her such a sooty tinge, that not a trace remains of her once beautiful snowy plumage.
We hear that many a candle has been vowed by the men to their favourite shrines. They have behaved admirably; but few of them had ever been in the Black Sea, and none had seen a storm there before.
Even the imperturbable Charlie says he has never known an “uglier” gale. The crew’s admiration of the behaviour of the Claymore is quite unbounded; they cannot praise her enough. She has certainly weathered the storm gallantly, and has come gloriously out of the combat, without having sustained any injury to speak of—only a rope or two gone and a block broken.