There was a patter of rain on the sea, a growl of thunder, and the sky had suddenly become overcast with sullen clouds. The pattering rain turned into a teeming downpour, but McKenzie took no notice of it. Nature was only in keeping with his mood, and even when the rain slashed in upon his body he made no note of the squall which caused it. The sea was rising after the first ten minutes of the puff, and the rolling of the steamer caused a cessation of the music, the dancing, and the chatter on the deck above. “Goin’ t’ have a storm, I reckon,” remarked someone behind him. He turned. It was a fireman up for a breath of fresh air. “Yes,” returned McKenzie. “A summer squall.”
It was darkening fast. The sun had set and the heavy clouds curtained the after-glow. Ever and anon, a vivid flash of lightning would shatter the darkness and render the night blacker than before, and the wind was rising. To port, Donald could see the land against the faint light in the west, and he knew they were drawing in to the heads of Eastville.
He suddenly realized that he was soaking wet and he shivered with the chill of it. His collar was limp and the rain was running down his neck and inside his clothing. The clammy discomfort cooled his burning body and brought him back to a realization of things around him. It was blowing a savage squall, and the packet steamer was rolling and smashing the waves into spray. Up on deck he could hear the frightened cries of sea-sick women.
The sailor instinct came to the fore, and, for the time being, he forgot the, to him, tragic event of the afternoon. Glancing ahead, he could see the white water on the Lower Eastville Ledges, hounded by the gusts and squalls, boiling and quarrelling with the rocks. The Outer Ledge sparbuoy slipped by, and he felt the steamer canting as the wheel was put hard over to make the turn into the channel. Then, all of a sudden, something snapped above his head, and he was struck a heavy blow, as of a whip, across the back. He turned and saw a piece of steel wire rope hanging from fair-leads in the deck beams above. “What the—?” he ejaculated rubbing his smarting shoulders, and then a realization of what had happened came to him in a flash. “Jupiter! Wheel gear has parted!”
Two men—the mate and a deck hand—came running to where he stood. “Where’s th’ spare tiller? God’s truth! we’ll be on th’ ledges—” The words were whipped from the officer’s mouth as a piling sea came aboard and hurled him, the deck hand and McKenzie to leeward. As they lay in the scuppers, they felt the steamer ground—once, twice, three times—and finally with a terrific crash. “She’s ashore!” yelled the mate jumping to his feet and scrambling up the ladder. A huge comber, with a livid, curling crest which seethed and growled, piled up ready to fall, and McKenzie and the deck hand leaped behind the casing as it struck the helpless steamer. Through the spray, Donald saw white-painted planks and pieces of the vessel tossing in the wake of the breaker, and with the water up to his chest he struggled along the narrow alleyway to a ladder leading to the deck above.
A mob of frightened, crying and screaming women and girls were crowding in the lee of the upper deck cabins, and when a sea hit the steamer and caused her to grind and twist, they shrieked in fear. Looking at the starboard life-boat, McKenzie saw that it was already stove, so he turned to the port boat which Captain Westhaver, Judson and other men were trying to swing out.
“You here, Don?” cried Nickerson when McKenzie elbowed his way to him. The skipper’s face was strained with anxiety, and he seemed relieved to see him. “Git these lubbers out o’ th’ way, Don,” he roared, “so’s we kin git this boat out. Th’ gaul-derned thing ain’t wu’th a hoot in hell anyways, but we might git th’ wimmin in and away from th’ ship. She’ll be in flinders in a damn short time!”
Pushing back the men and youths who were pressing around the boat, most of whom were farmers and tradesmen, McKenzie shouted, “Don’t crowd now, boys. We’ll get the boat out a sight quicker if you’ll give us a chance.” He spoke kindly and confidently and they stood clear while the davits were out-swung.
“D’ye reckon ye kin git away from th’ side?” cried Captain Westhaver to Judson. “Devil of a back-wash down thar’ an’ she’ll be stove sure as blazes——”