“Yes, it’s been varying from South to Sou’-West and Sou’-Sou’-East for the last hour, and may chop round to East or North-East and send a perfect hurricane in our teeth. It’s my opinion that that is what it just will do.”
“Why?” I asked, for old Tom Grimes was an oracle with the crew.
“Why? my lad, why? Because—there just notice the vibration of the ship as she bounds over the waves—don’t you notice a kind of imperceptible stress in the movement, and a slight recoil?”
“Well, I certainly do; yet it is so slight.”
“Ah! A hurricane can come from a cloud only the size of a man’s hand, and that vibration shows a cross-sea running. Mark my words, Galbraith, we shan’t go many days, if one, before there is an unpleasant change of weather.”
“Well, never mind, if we can only weather it,” I laughed; and just then, the watch being changed, I went below and turned into my hammock, where, falling speedily asleep, I forgot all about old Grimes’ prophecies.
The next morning’s dawn, however, proved them only to be too true. The blue sky we had enjoyed for so long was overcast with large ominous-looking clouds, while the wind had already chopped round to East. The ship was rigged for hard weather; and just an hour after sunset, when about latitude 33 degrees 29 minutes South, longitude 42 degrees 12 minutes East, the gale struck us dead in our teeth. The heavens had suddenly become of an inky blackness; the sea rushing high, with that hollow roar as if it rose from vast caverns in its depths, frequently swept the decks; while the wind increased to such a terrific pitch that it was with the greatest difficulty we could hold our course.
Scarcely half-an-hour elapsed before we saw that the danger of the ship was imminent. In my seven years’ experience never had I witnessed such a storm, nor one which did such speedy execution. At each succeeding wave the large ship started and quivered in every one of her timbers, while sail after sail flew from the bolt ropes, and was lost in a minute’s space in the darkness to leeward. Each man that night had his full share of duty; and I noticed the Captain—a noble, brave-hearted fellow, as he stood issuing his orders, which the gale scarcely permitted to be heard—looked every moment anxiously at the rigging. Finally surrendering his speaking trumpet to the mate, he descended quickly to the cabin.
It was not many moments before he returned, and, hidden by the darkness, I heard him address the mate in a grave tone.
“Sanders, I fear we are in a bad way.”