Symzonia: Voyage of Discovery

by Captain Adam Seaborn

The day after leaving Angier Point, we were in the open ocean, with a stiff gale from S. E. driving us rapidly towards our homes, our wives and children. It is a delightful sensation which the mariner experiences on clearing port for his homeward passage, after a long and toilsome voyage. His home, his family, his little prattlers, and all the delightful associations of a happy fireside, crowd upon his imagination, which is cleared by long absence of all the asperities and disagreeables of real life. He flatters himself that he shall soon fold to his heart the wife of his bosom and the children of his love, improved in beauty, virtue, and affection; fancies a thousand enjoyments which the gains of his voyage will enable him to procure, and forgets the numberless vexations attendant upon business, and upon the duties of man in civilized society, encumbered with useless ceremonies and pernicious customs.

Mr Slim had been confined to his state-room whilst we lay at Whampoa; and no more intercourse was allowed between our people and their countrymen, than was necessary to keep up appearances. Our men were particularly cautioned not to drink grog whilst out of the ship, lest it should make them too talkative. They kept this injunction tolerably well for sailors; but one of them had nearly betrayed the whole secret, after drinking a second can of grog on board a Boston ship, where the Yankees seemed determined to get it all out of him. Happily one of his shipmates forced him away, but not until enough had escaped him to produce an hundred absurd stories amongst the shipping in the river.

Being now at sea, Mr. Slim was permitted to go at large as usual. But alas! I had melancholy cause to regret this lenity. Having one day spread my Symzonian manuscripts on the after lockers, to dry away the mould which, from the humid atmosphere of the external world, had accumulated on them, I took a walk on the quarter-deck. On my return to my cabin, I was overwhelmed with consternation and alarm at the disappearance of my books and papers, which were all gone except my journal and volumes of extracts and translations. I immediately summoned the steward, but he could give no account of them. He had not been in my cabin during my absence. The cabin and state-room were searched in vain. The manuscripts were gone! A man who had been working aloft, declared that he saw them going astern soon after I came on deck; and Will Mackerel, who was asleep in his birth, was positive that he saw the shadow of Slim passing from the direction of my cabin towards his state-room. There was great cause to suspect that Slim had been into my cabin, and thrown them all out of the windows to gratify his inveterate malice: but there was no help for it—there was no proof. A monkey, which, out of a foolish partiality to Jack Whiffle, I had permitted him to bring on board, and which visited every part of the ship, and was very mischievous, might have done it. They were irrevocably lost; and though I deplored them more than I should the loss of the mainmast, I was not without consolation. I had read most of them attentively, and being favoured with a very retentive memory, I had treasured up their contents.

After this, I excluded Slim from my cabin, and kept a sharp eye upon him. Various modes were suggested by my officers and men, to obviate the difficulty which his refusal to accede to my measures threatened to produce. That which appeared most feasible, was, to confine him in irons, carry him home as a madman, and trust to the effect of his stories about the internal world, for a corroboration of his insanity. I however did not altogether like to trust to this manœuvre, lest some of my people should prove treacherous, and, by joining their testimony to that of Slim, defeat all my projects.

My mind was suddenly diverted from this subject, which had long weighed heavily upon it, by the occurrence of real and immediate danger.

CHAPTER XIX.

Hurricane off the Isle of France.—Its consequences.—Death of Mr. Slim.

We were now to windward off the Isles of France and Bourbon, and nearly up with the land. This tract of ocean is the scene of the most violent hurricanes which are experienced on the external world, and it was our lot to encounter one of the most terrific.

A sudden change of the wind from S. E. to N. W. warned me of the coming storm. The ship was promptly secured for a gale; as much of the water which had been stowed on deck, was secured below, as the consumption of provisions had made room for; the top gallant yards and masts were struck; booms sent down from the yards, dead-lights secured, and every precaution taken to weather out the gale without damage. I never experienced a more awful tempest. The wind blew for some time with such violence as to make the face of the sea quite level, the pressure of the atmosphere, combined with its rapid motion, being so great as to prevent the swell from rising. The ship, under bare poles, drove broadside to the wind, nearly on her beam ends. When the violence of the first onset abated, the sea rose with a swell of full twenty feet perpendicular elevation. Having a strong vessel, although she was very deeply laden, I did not mind this much; but when the wind chopped round to the S. W., a heavy gale, bringing with it a large sea across the swell which the Northwester had produced, our situation was not devoid of danger. The tops of the waves, blown off by the wind, flew like the spray of a waterfall, and filled the air with water as high as the mast head; while the waves, curled and lashed into foam by the whistling blast, gave the whole face of the ocean the appearance of one immense cataract. The vessel, assailed by the crossing sea from two points at once, laboured excessively, and was fairly drowned with water. She frequently plunged the bowsprit quite out of sight beneath the wave, and had it not been of unusually firm construction, it must have gone to pieces.