“Stand by, sir; here it comes at last!”
Chapter Five.
A Wreck and a Rescue.
At the sound of the second mate’s voice I turned, and saw, dead astern, a thin streak of ghostly white, drawn horizontally across the curtain of Stygian darkness in that quarter. The line lengthened and broadened with amazing rapidity; and presently a low moaning sound became audible.
“Let run your topsail halliards, fore and aft,” I cried; and the command was instantly followed by the creaking of the parrels as the yards slid down the well-greased topmasts, and the scream of the block-sheaves as the falls rapidly overhauled themselves.
The moaning sound grew louder as the band of spectral white astern extended and approached; and presently, with a deafening shriek, the hurricane struck us, the line of white foam at the same instant sweeping past us at railway speed. The stroke of the blast was like a blow from something solid, causing the ship to quiver from stem to stern; then she gathered way, and, with bows buried deep in the milk-white water, drove ahead like a frightened sentient thing. I had never witnessed so fierce a squall before in those latitudes; the outfly was indeed as violent as anything I had ever seen in the tropics; and there was nothing for it but to let the ship scud. This she luckily did in splendid style, gathering way quickly, and steering like a little boat, otherwise I firmly believe that the first stroke would have dismasted us. The air was so full of scud-water that, but for the salt taste of it on the lips, one would have thought we were being pursued by a drenching torrent of rain; while the roar and shriek of the wind overhead produced a wild medley of sound that was simply indescribable, and so deafeningly loud that it would have been quite impossible to issue an order in the usual way, had it been ever so necessary, for the simple reason that in that wild turmoil of sound no human voice could have made itself audible. Fortunately, no orders were needed, we had done everything that could be done for the safety of the ship—short of putting her under bare poles—and now all that was left to us was to trust in the mercy of God, and the staunchness of our spars and rigging.
The first mad fury of the squall lasted for only some five minutes; but after that it still continued to blow so fiercely that we were compelled to scud for fully three hours before we dared venture to round-to. Then, having first with great difficulty clewed up and furled the fore-topsail, we watched our opportunity and, taking advantage of a momentary lull, put the helm over, and brought the ship to on the starboard tack. We now, for the first time, had an opportunity of realising the full strength of the wind, which still blew with such violence as to careen the ship gunwale-to, even under the small canvas which remained exposed to the blast. It was still intensely dark overhead; but the surface of the sea, highly phosphorescent, and scourged into foam by the wind, gave forth a pale lambent light against which the hull of the ship and all her rigging up to the level of the horizon stood out with tolerable distinctness. The swell, meanwhile, was rapidly rising, but there were as yet no waves, the wind instantly catching any inequality in the surface of the water and carrying it away to leeward in the form of spindrift. This lasted until daybreak, when the strength of the gale had so far moderated that—despite the fact of the wind having backed to the southward—I ventured to set the fore-topsail, close-reefed; more, however, for the sake of steadying the ship than for any other advantage that I expected to get from it.
With sunrise the sky cleared; and when my passengers came on deck before breakfast, they had the—to them—novel experience of witnessing a hard gale of wind under a cloudless blue sky, with brilliant sunshine. And, truly, it was a grand and exhilarating scene that met their gaze; for the wind, though it still blew with the force of a whole gale, had so far moderated its fury as to permit the sea to rise; and now the staunch little ship, heeling to her covering-board, was gallantly breasting the huge billows of the mid-Atlantic; each wave a deep blue liquid hill, half as high as our fore-yard, crested with a ridge of snow-white foam that, caught up and blown into spray by the gale, produced an endless procession of mimic rainbows past the ship. And, as the crest of each wave struck our weather-bow and burst into a drenching shower of silvery spray, a rainbow formed there too, overarching the ship in the wake of the foremast and causing the whole forepart of her to glow and glitter with the loveliest prismatic hues.