One of the most magnificent sunsets imaginable spread its glories over the western sky. Great splashes of gorgeous colouring stained the pale blue of the heavens, and illuminated the fantastic crags and ranges of cloud that lay motionless around the horizon, like fragments of a disintegrated world. A long, listless swell came solemnly from the west at regular intervals, giving the waiting ship a stately rhythmical motion in the glassy waters, and making the immense squares of canvas that hung straight as boards from the yards slam against the steel masts with a sullen boom. Except for that occasionally recurring sound, a solemn stillness reigned supreme, while the wide mirror of the ocean reflected faithfully all the flaming tints of the sky. Quietly all of us gathered on the fo’c’sle head for the second dog-watch smoke, but for some time all seemed strangely disinclined for the desultory chat that usually takes place at that pleasant hour. Pipes were puffed in silence for half an hour, until suddenly M’Ginty broke the spell (his voice sounding strangely clear and vibrant), by saying—
“I had a quare dhrame lasht night.”
No one stirred or spoke, and after a few meditative pulls at his pipe, he went on—
“I dhreamt that I was a tiny gorsoon again, at home in owld Baltimore. I’d been wandherin’ and sthrayin’, God alone knows where, fur a dhreadful long while, it seemed, until at lasht, whin I wuz ready t’ die from sheer weariness an’ fright, I hearrd me dear mother’s sweet voice cryin’, ‘Where’s Fonnie avic iver got to this long while?’ Oh!’twas as if an angel from hiven shpoke to me, an’ I cried wid all me hearrt an’ me tongue, ‘Here, mother, here I am!’ An’ she gathered me up in her arrums that wuz so soft an’ cosy, till I felt as if I was a little tired chick neshtlin’ into its mother’s feathers in the snuggest of nests. I didn’t go to sleep, I just let meself sink down, down into rest, happy as any saint in glory. An’ thin I woke up wid a big, tearin’ ache all over me poor owld broken-up body. But bad as that wuz, ’twuz just nothin’ at all to the gnawin’ ache at me hearrt.”
Silence wrapped us round again, for who among us could find any words to apply to such a story as that? And it affected us all the more because of its complete contrast to M’Ginty’s usual bright, cheery, and uncomplaining humour. Not another word was spoken by any one until the sharp strokes on the little bell aft cleft the still air, and, in immediate response, one rose and smote the big bell hanging at the break of the forecastle four double blows, ushering in the first watch of the night. The watch on deck relieved wheel and look-out, and we who were fortunate enough to have the “eight hours in,” lost no time in seeking our respective bunks, since in those stern latitudes we might expect a sudden call at any moment. We had hardly been asleep five minutes, it seemed, when a hoarse cry came pealing in through the fo’c’sle door of “All hands on deck! Shorten sail!” And as we all started wide awake, we heard the furious voice of the southern tempest tearing up the face of the deep, and felt the massive fabric beneath our feet leaping and straining under the tremendous strain of her great breadths of canvas, that we had left hanging so idly at eight bells.
Out into the black night we hurried, meeting the waiting mate at the foremast, and answering his first order of “man the fore tops’ls downhaul” with the usual repetition of his words. Weird cries arose as we hauled with all our strength on the downhauls and spilling lines, while overhead we could hear, even above the roar of the storm, the deep boom of the topsails fiercely fighting against the restraining gear. Then, with a hissing, spiteful snarl, came snow and sleet, lashing us like shotted whips, and making the darkness more profound because of the impossibility of opening the eyes against the stinging fragments of ice. But, after much stumbling and struggling, we got the four huge tops’ls down, and, without waiting for the order, started aloft to furl, the pitiful incapacity of our numbers most glaringly apparent. The pressure of the wind was so great that it was no easy matter to get aloft, but clinging like cats, we presently found ourselves (six of the port watch) on the fore topsailyard.
The first thing evident was that the great sail was very slightly subdued by the gear; it hovered above the yard like a white balloon, making it both difficult and dangerous to get out along the spar. The storm scourged us pitilessly, the great round of the sail resisted all our attempts to “fist” it, and we seemed as helpless as children. Some bold spirits clutched the lifts, and, swinging above the sail, tried to stamp a hollow into it with their feet; but against the increasing fury of the tempest we seemed to be utterly impotent. We were so widely separated, too, that each man appeared to be essaying a giant’s task single-handed, and that horrible sense of fast-oozing strength was paralyzing us. Feeling left our hands; we smote them savagely against that unbending sail without sensation, and still we seemed no nearer the conclusion of our task. But suddenly the ship gave a great lurch to windward, and just for one moment the hitherto unyielding curve of the sail quivered. In that instant every fist had clutched a fold, and with a flash of energy we strained every sinew to conquer our enemy.
* * * * *
Tugging like a madman to get the sail spilled, I glanced sideways, and saw to my horror, by a jagged flash of lightning, the rugged face of M’Ginty.
