He laughed. "If we robbed you of a father, I think it's due you to be allowed to go your own way. I should say that your brother requires your aid more than we do, so I'll take your word for it that you're a Yankee. Better not go to sea again without a protection paper. I happen to be a particularly tender-hearted officer."
He went down the side.
Samuel Childs gave me a slap on the back that took my breath away.
"Youngster," he said, "that's the first time I've seen a British officer pass by an American without papers. Blast them, if they would give their men better pay and stop flogging them through the fleet for offences hardly worth one lash, they wouldn't have to be taking us to fill the places of their deserters!"
It was a grand though often terrifying sight to see the ship in a storm flying beneath leaden clouds. With the main topsail and fore topmast staysail close reefed; with the masts tipping over as if they were going to plunge their tops into the sea; with spray showering upon us; with mountainous waves following us as if they would topple their full weight over our stern; it was a sight to make one both marvel and tremble.
In such a storm we lost James Murray, an ordinary seamen, well-liked by all.
We were in a heavy sea. The clouds were so low that they enveloped our mastheads. Tremendous waves beat against our bow, so that our plunging stem was like a knife cutting a way through them. All hands were called to shorten sail as the wind increased into a gale. The men who were light of weight went out along the yardarms, while the heavier men remained closer to the mast. The upper mizzen topsail was being furled when a sudden gust of wind blew the sail out of their grasp.
Murray, who was one of the outermost men, was thrown off the yard into the sea. As the great waves tossed him up, we saw him struggling to swim, handicapped as he was by his heavy oil-skins. A boat was cleared away and volunteers were called for to endeavor to rescue Murray. I stood forth with the rest of the crew—I saw no one hold back—but a crew of our strongest men was chosen, and all we could do was to stand on a yard and watch the progress of the little boat. The seas poured into her. We could see two of her men baling desperately. At last we lost sight of her in the mists. An hour later, when we were worrying greatly over the fate not only of Murray, but also of the boat's crew, the mist cleared and showed our location to the men struggling out there in the furious ocean. They gradually made their way towards us and were pulled on deck exhausted. They said that they had caught one glimpse of Murray, but as they pulled desperately to reach him the mist had drifted between him and them—a mist that was to him as a shroud.