—Hazel Adelle Orcutt.
Up a Water-Spout
I was a poor, hard-working sailor on a fishing smack plying between Nantucket Island and Cape Cod. My parents before me had been of scanty means, living from hand to mouth, and I was compelled early in life to provide for myself. Naturally, I had little education; that is, education from books; but if traveling possesses half the advantages attributed to it in that line, I own I must be the best educated man—I say this with all modesty—on this small globe of ours.
Once a year the captains of the several boats with their respective crews made a more extended trip down the coast for pickerel. This year with the usual company of fishing-craft we sailed southward toward the Bahamas.
Favorable winds hastened our journey until at a point just off Cape Fear we ran into a dead calm. For four days we never moved. The heat was scorching. The boards warped and cracked, and not even a flapping sail indicated the slightest disturbance in the air. All the boats had dropped anchor within hailing distance of each other, so with the aid of the dories to carry us around from one ship to another we passed the time quite agreeably.
On the fifth morning, however, a thick rim of cloud covered the western horizon and seemed to be moving rapidly toward us. Almost in the center of this cloud projected a small point of mist. It grew and widened, then shrank back to half its size, finally running down a long, slender finger until it reached the water. Instantly foam and spray began to rise, and we knew that we were in the path of a water-spout. All anchors had been hoisted and the captains were giving hoarse orders to put on every inch of sail. But there seemed to be an upper current that was carrying that water-spout right among us; yet we were still becalmed and helpless.
As it approached it grew in circumference into a huge column of water, foaming and swirling in a horrible manner. Every man rushed for the cabin. We tightly closed the doors and windows. Then—we waited. The boat gave a sharp twist as we entered the whirling pool, and a great wave passed over us.
Silently we sat there expecting the boat to be swamped and broken into bits. But this is far from what really took place; for after the first shock, we felt the boat to be rising. Trembling and cautious we peeped out of the window. All the other boats were circling around in the air near us, and were rising too. We seemed to be surrounded by a hollow cylinder of water, also rising like ourselves. It seemed impossible, and yet we were forced to recognize the fact that we were inside the water-spout, and the suction that was drawing up the water, had picked our vessel up bodily and was carrying us—where? Where, indeed? Miles we went. Finally we left behind the column of water which had been growing thinner and thinner, and we passed swiftly through clouds and mists. Gradually these cleared away and the earth came into view. For three months our journey lasted. We wandered here and there over the earth wherever currents bore us. Luckily, we had an extraordinarily large supply of provisions on board.
One day we saw a dim speck in the distance and the watch involuntarily cried out, "A sail." We laughed, but sure enough, within a few hours, another boat wheeled up along side. We had no way of stopping, so our communication was short. It was found out that they had met the same fate as we, and had, like us, probably been reported at home as lost at sea. They said that if by any chance we should return to earth, we should tell their friends that they were quite happy, only, were weary of such constant travel, but must continue it, they supposed, unless sometime in their course they might come upon another water-spout to afford them a passage to earth again. And I might add here, if we had not been thus fortunate, we should still be journeying monotonously through the heavens.