Just before the outbreak of the war he had intended to lay the O-Taka up for repairs, for the vessel was rather old, and needed her seams looked after, and a new topmast, as well as some new sails. But the opportunity for making such repairs had been lost, and now the ship was handicapped in a fashion which left her ill-suited to fight out the storm that was raging.
The sailors knew of the trouble, but the captain did not wish to alarm his passengers, and so told them nothing. The O-Taka was already shipping much water, and the pump was kept going continuously.
Sleep for all on board was out of the question, and the most Gilbert could do was to lash himself fast to a railing near the lee of the cabin. Jiru Siko had joined his family, but others of the Japanese refugees were close at hand, doing what they could to keep their blood in circulation, and a few praying to their gods that daybreak might still find them in the land of the living.
It was about three in the morning when the worst of the blow was felt. The wind shrieked with increased fury, and in the midst of this came a report like that of a cannon. The mainmast of the ship had broken off about six feet above deck. Down it came, partly over the bow, carrying a railing, some spars, and a great mass of rigging and canvas with it. At once the ship veered around and came up sideways to the fury of the high-running sea.
But little could be heard in such a wind, yet Captain Toyano made his men understand what was best to do, and while some held life-lines, others chopped away the wreckage with axes. Then the O-Taka gave a sudden lurch, and the broken mast, with spars, rigging, and sails, slipped overboard and out of sight in the darkness. Soon the ship righted herself, and those handling her did what they could to keep her up to the wind.
CHAPTER XII
IN THE LAND OF THE MORNING CALM
By daybreak the worst of the blow was over, and shortly before noon the snow ceased to fall, and the sun began to struggle through the clouds. Still it was bitterly cold and those on deck had to keep muffled up. As it was, one of the sailors had had a hand frozen during the night and several were suffering from nipped noses and ears. The blood in Gilbert’s left foot refused to circulate properly and that member felt as if half dead.
The storm had opened the seams of the vessel worse than ever, and the sailors had all they could do to keep the craft from becoming water-logged. The pump was in constant use, one gang of pumpers relieved another, and in addition some water was drawn from the hold by means of big pails and ropes. All realized that their very lives depended upon keeping the water below the safety-line, and all worked like Trojans in consequence.
“Let me work too,” said Gilbert, and the others were glad enough to let him take hold and do his share. The work warmed him up, and presently the foot that was numb began to feel better.
The day proved a long and uncertain one for all on board of the O-Taka. Whether they would float or go down was a problem which any moment might answer to their undoing. In the afternoon the water in the hold began to gain rapidly.