That evening the breeze freshened into a living gale, and we had a dead beat down to Cape Farewell, which headland we passed on the fifth day out. To make matters worse the vessel was leaking like a basket, and the pumps had to be kept going night and day.
After rounding Cape Farewell, the barque was headed south, and was soon wallowing in a heavy cross sea. We were fagged out with pumping, and as we drew near to Foveaux Straits, all hands walked aft and begged the captain to put into the Bluff Harbour for shelter until the weather moderated. The captain, however, hoping to run out of the bad weather when he got south of the Straits, refused to put back. We refused to work the pumps any longer, and walked forward in a body.
The captain looked at us and said quietly: “All right, my lads,” and calmly went on smoking his pipe under the weather cloth.
The mate wanted to go forward and force us to the pumps, but Captain Saunders said: “Oh, no, let them alone, they will turn to sharp enough directly.”
The barque carried two of her boats in the davits on the poop, out of the way of the cargo gear, so the captain told the mate and second mate to see that there was fresh water and food put in one of them ready for use.
We had been in the forecastle about an hour, smoking and grumbling, when a heavy sea broke on board, smashing the lifeboat and cutter, and washing the cook-house clean over the side. Luckily for the cook, he was aft in the cabin at the time. A few of the pots and pans that had been scattered about the deck were picked up. We were now thoroughly terrified at the amount of water in the ship, which was causing her to roll heavily to windward, thus exposing her deck and hatches to the sea, so again we went aft and complained to the captain that the vessel was sinking, and asked him to run back to the Bluff.
“I know she is sinking,” he replied coolly, “and I think you had better pump her out.”
“We want our tea, and we want some rest, it’s nothing else but pumping since we left Wellington,” replied the men.
“Aye, you want your tea do you? So do I, but the galley’s gone overboard, and as for the rest—well, I promise you good long rest in a few hours, if the water is not pumped out. It is six o’clock now,” he continued, looking at his watch, “and I give her just another two hours to float upright, after that, you will not need any tea, and you will get all the rest you want.”
Just then, as though to verify the captain’s words, the vessel gave a dangerous lurch to the leeward, and in the weather roll the two lower topsails were blown to bits, leaving the fore, main, and mizzen staysail only on the vessel. The men, who were holding on to the mizzen rigging to save themselves from being washed overboard, looked at the captain, and then at each other, and without a word made their way to the pumps. The officers and cook joined them, and they all pumped away for dear life. The barque had a powerful set of pumps, and after working for four hours, at times up to the waist in water, they found the soundings were considerably reduced.