The Cruise of the "Esmeralda"

by Harry Collingwood

“Good morning, Mr Roberts,” I exclaimed genially. “So you were unable to overtake the flyer yonder, after all.”

“Good morning, sir,” he responded with equal geniality. ”(Now then, you sodgers, stand clear of the hose if you don’t want a ducking. Serve you right, Tom; you’ll take warning, perhaps, the next time I give it you.) The flyer, sir? Oh, you mean the yacht. Well, of course, they have the pull of us in light weather, such as we’ve had through the night; but I’ll bet my hat that neither yonder schooner nor e’er a yacht that now happens to be away there inside the island could look at us in a good, honest to’gallant breeze. You wait a bit, sir; the little hooker hasn’t had a chance yet to show what she can do. But there’s a breeze coming by-and-by, if I’m any judge of that sky away there to the east’ard; and then, after we’ve touched at Weymouth and hauled out again into the wake of that fleet astarn of us, you’ll have a chance to judge of the Esmeralda’s paces when she lays herself out to travel. Now, boys, lay aft here with your squeegees, and give this poop a drying down!”

It was a glorious morning; the sun, already well above the horizon, just taking the keen edge off the air, and rendering the pure easterly breeze soft and balmy without depriving it of any of its bracing and exhilarating qualities; the sky a magnificent, deep, pure blue overhead, softening down in tint to warm tender tones of grey as the eye travelled from the zenith, horizon-ward. Cloud, properly speaking, there was none, save a few faint streaks here and there of the kind known as “mares’ tails”; but away to the northward and eastward the sky at the horizon, although it was of a clear pale primrose hue, had that peculiar indescribable “hardness” of tint that, to the experienced eye, is the sure forerunner of a good wholesome breeze. That breeze, however, was yet to come; the wind at the moment being very paltry—little more than sufficient, indeed, to keep the heavier canvas “asleep,” and to send the barque along at a speed of about five knots. The water was perfectly smooth, save of course for the ripple caused by the light breeze; but, so far as swell was concerned, there was absolutely none, the ship neither pitching nor rolling perceptibly.

In due course my passengers made their appearance on deck, in high glee at the favourable condition of the weather, and full of compliments as to the comfort of the sleeping cabins. And indeed it was not difficult to judge, by their fresh and cheerful looks, that they had enjoyed a sound and undisturbed night’s rest. Even poor Lady Desmond was looking incomparably more bright and cheerful than had been the case with her a short day previously, and was already beginning to speak hopefully of her possible recovery.

As the day wore on, the wind, instead of freshening, as we had expected from the indications at sunrise, grew more and more paltry; so that it was rather late on in the afternoon ere we reached Weymouth. The weather, however, had been undergoing a slow and subtle change all day; and when we at length rounded to and backed the Esmeralda’s mainyard in the roadstead the sky away to the eastward was overspread by a broad bank of dirty grey vapour reaching almost to the zenith, the mares’ tails had increased in number and become more strongly defined, and a thin veil of scarcely perceptible vapour was sweeping steadily athwart the blue. The horizon to the eastward, too, had become overcast—so much so, indeed, as to completely obscure Saint Alban’s Head; the wind was beginning to freshen in fitful puffs, and the small surges occasionally combed and broke into a miniature white cap. All of which indicated with sufficient clearness that the long-expected breeze was close at hand, and that, moreover, we should probably have quite as much of it as we wanted. I accordingly lost no time in lowering the gig, and getting my mother and her belongings into her; when we shoved off—leaving the ship in charge of Mr Roberts—and stretched out for the harbour. My mother seemed a good deal cut up, now that the moment of parting had drawn so very near, and—poor soul—spent most of the short time during which we were traversing the space between the ship and the harbour, with her head on my shoulder, crying softly, and fondling my disengaged hand in hers. While, as for me, I was—like most sailors—sadly wanting in eloquence, and could think of nothing better or more encouraging to say than that I was at last really starting out to seek my fortune, and that I fully intended to find it ere I returned to her. Ah me! how little I guessed at the hardship and suffering in store for me, or the anxiety and anguish of mind that my dear mother was to endure before we two should meet again!

Landing at the flight of boat-steps near the inner end of the pier, I put my mother and her baggage into the first fly that presented itself; kissed her a dozen times; said good-bye hurriedly, and tore myself away; springing hastily into the stern-sheets of the gig with a final wave of the hand as the dear soul drove away.

“Give way, men!” I exclaimed huskily; “the breeze is freshening fast, and I care not how soon we are once more on board the Esmeralda!”

The breeze was indeed freshening fast; the thick weather had crept down the coast until the high land about the Burning Cliff was only dimly visible; and as we dashed out past the end of the pier, the water in the bay was all flecked with white. The Esmeralda, with royals clewed up, was halfway across toward Portland Roads; but Roberts was evidently keeping a sharp lookout, for, judging it to be about time for us to make our appearance, he had already filled on the ship, and as we rounded the buoy marking the extremity of the reef on the south side of the harbour, we saw her fly up into the wind and tack with a rapidity which I had certainly never before witnessed in a square-rigged ship. The little beauty worked “as quick as they could swing the yards,” as the stroke oarsman remarked enthusiastically. We paddled gently ahead, leaving to those on board the task of picking us up; and very neatly and smartly was it done too, the barque keeping a rap full, and tearing through the water like a racer, until exactly the right moment, when she flew up head to wind, shooting into the wind’s eye in magnificent style, ranging up alongside us in the boat and picking us up while still in stays, then paying off again on the other tack almost before the tackles were hooked on. Another minute and the gig was once more at the davits; and the Esmeralda, on a taut bowline, and with her royal yards again mast-headed, was rushing away at a perfectly bewildering pace, on a course that would enable her to just handsomely weather the outer end of Portland breakwater, if the little witch continued to eat into the wind as she was then doing. Roberts was evidently in ecstasies at the ship’s behaviour; his flushed cheek, his sparkling eye, and his quick, restless movements told me that; but he would have bitten his tongue out, rather than have suffered himself to be betrayed into any remarks which could possibly be construed into “fishing for a compliment;” and it was truly amusing to watch the heroic efforts he made to simulate a cool and indifferent demeanour. But it was plain enough that he was hungering for a word of praise to the ship that he had learned to love as though she were flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone: so I hastened to gratify the good fellow by eulogising—as indeed I could with the most perfect honesty—the marvellous weatherly qualities and speed of the ship, as also the stiffness with which she stood up under her big spread of canvas. Had I not done so, I verily believe that my reputation as a seaman would have shrunk very materially in my chief mate’s estimation, instead of increasing, as it immediately did.

The wind being dead fair for the run out of the Channel, we “took our departure” from the Bill of Portland; and, packing the studding-sails upon the willing little barkie, passed Ushant at four o’clock the next morning—a truly wonderful run; but then our patent log showed that we had been travelling at the rate of a fair, honest fifteen knots from the moment that we dropped that useful machine overboard off the Bill. This magnificent breeze followed us up for the next four days, and carried us into the latitude of Madeira—an almost unprecedented performance; but it must not be forgotten that it was blowing a whole gale from the eastward all this time, or well over our larboard quarter, allowing every thread of canvas to draw to perfection; and, finding that the barque carried her canvas superbly, I simply let Robert have his way with her, although I must admit that never before in my experience had I seen a craft so boldly driven. Then—on the evening of the fifth day out from Weymouth—the wind rapidly dwindled away to nothing, and left us rolling heavily on the steep swell that followed us. I concluded that we had run into the doldrums, or horse latitudes, and that we should now probably have calms, or light baffling airs until we fell in with the trade-winds; but on going below to turn in at midnight, I observed that a very decided fall of the barometer had taken place. I therefore returned to the deck for a moment and cautioned the second mate—whose watch it was—to keep a sharp lookout for any sign of a decided change in the weather; and gave him strict injunctions to call me immediately that any indication of such change should become apparent. I had some thought of remaining on deck an hour or two longer, to personally watch the development of events; but reflecting that I had been out of my berth for the last eighteen hours, and that, if we were to have bad weather, it might be some time before I should have another opportunity to sleep, I decided to go below and get what rest I could, especially as the sky was at that time perfectly clear, with the stars shining brilliantly.

A sailor soon gets into the habit of falling asleep the moment his head touches his pillow, and I was no exception to the rule, although my newly assumed responsibilities caused me perhaps to sleep more lightly than before; at all events, I had—even in the short time that we had been at sea—acquired the faculty of being cognisant of almost everything that happened on deck, even during the time that I was asleep; and on this particular night it seemed to me that I had not been in my berth more than ten minutes—though the time was actually close upon two hours—when I heard the second mate quietly descending the saloon staircase, and in another moment his knuckles were cautiously tapping at the door of my cabin.