“Hard a-port,” he cried, “hard a-port! Ice ahead!”
In a moment every man aboard was on deck, the helm put down, the top-gallant halliards let go, starboard braces slacked away, the yards flew forward, and, as the ship came up with the wind, she heeled over and a heavy sea struck her amidships, shaking her from stem to stern, and filling the decks with water. Then came a crash aloft, and we found the fore and main top-gallant masts had been carried away and fallen alongside. A dozen hands were soon cutting away the wreckage, and looking to leeward, we were horrified to see the terrible fate we had just escaped. There, within a mile of us, floated a gigantic iceberg about 700 feet long and 300 feet high, shaped like a church, with a square tower at one end. Presently the haze lifting, the setting sun cast its rays on the iceberg filling it with flaming jewels of light, kindling all kinds of rich and glowing colours, the effect was beautiful, and truly magnificent. It seemed to stand on a mountain of pure crystal, bathed in silver radiance. We were not allowed much time to admire it, however, for there was work to be done, the wreckage to clear away, and the gear to secure for the night. We then wore ship, and stood towards the Horn again.
We had a marvellous escape for our ship had been pointed directly for the berg, in another few minutes our bows would have been into it, and the ship would have ground herself to splinters. Until daybreak came we went on our way very stealthily, and then we saw vast fields of ice to the south of us, stretching for miles away to the eastward.
When passing Cape Horn there was an awful sea running, the shadows of black clouds whirling overhead and darkening the air with heavy snowfalls, which blew along in thick masses like the contents of a feather bed. The tops of the dark green waves were on a level with our upper topsail yards, and their white roaring heads seemed to brush the flying scud of the heavens as they came rushing madly upon us. In no place in the world have I seen such mountainous waves as are met with off Cape Horn, the rigging was glazed with ice, the decks full of water, to let go of a rope, or obey an order, was to do so at the risk of life and limb. At one minute the vessel was on a level keel in the trough, in a valley, with moving walls of water on either side of her, then for a brief moment there would be a lull, and you heard nothing but the howl of it on high, and the savage hissing of the foam. Then she would sweep up the huge liquid incline, up and still up with a sickening rush, until the deck looked like the roof of a house, then with the shrieking anew as she soared into the full weight of the gale, another moment’s breathless pause, as she hung poised on the peak of the sea that had hoisted her up, when once more she would slip down again, reeling as she went, shuddering like a frightened thing, into the heart of the valley of water, with its terrifying interval of calm below, and uproar of storm above. But the “Bertie” was a splendid sea-going boat, buoyant as a bird, rising and falling like a thing on wings and full of life, and as I stood by the mizzen rigging watching those giant waves I thought of Christ on the sea of Galilee, and His words to the angry billows, “Peace, be still.”
From Cape Horn we had a run to Falkland Islands, thankful to have escaped after our dressing down, but passing to westward we ran into another snowstorm, and in a remarkably short time the ship was covered with a thick white mantle.
CHAPTER VI
The Southern Cross
It was still snowing as we were nearing the Falkland Islands. I was on the quarter-deck with Jones and some of the sailors. We had just finished taking in some of the sails, when Peterson called out to us: “I say, boys, just look astern at the fireworks, there’s a sight.” It was a truly magnificent sight, there above the horizon was a splendid display of southern lights. Imagine about twenty rainbows all clustered together, the centre one being straight and those on either side curved outward like an open fan, their prismatic hues lighting up every spar, rigging and sail with a wonderful glow of colour, the pure white snow with which the ship was coated reflecting the colours from a thousand points. It was indeed a wonderful and a splendid sight, one that I shall never forget, and it is one I have never seen since.
After passing the Falkland Islands the weather moderated, and we had a spell of fine bright days, then began the usual overhauling of the rigging, sails, etc. This is the work that all true sailors like; Jones and I were delighted at the prospect of getting plenty of it. The officers and men were always ready to teach us boys anything we wanted to learn, and I must say we tried to do our best to repay them by always shewing ourselves ready and willing to oblige them. Nothing troubled us, we scarcely knew what it was to be tired, and as for a kick or a blow, or any unkindness from any of the men, we never experienced any such thing during the whole of the voyage.
One night in the first watch, the night being calm, with a cloudless sky, the second mate called me aft, and, pointing to the beautiful constellation of the southern cross, said: