The Cruise of the "Esmeralda"

by Harry Collingwood

“Lower away.”

Prompt, at the word, the second mate allowed the falls to run rapidly out, while the chief, sitting in the stern-sheets, with the yoke-lines in one hand, grasped the releasing line in the other. As the barque careened to her gunwale, the light boat swung far out from her side, and in a moment splashed into the water. At the same instant a smart pull upon the releasing line freed her from the tackles fore and aft; and as the mate sheered her with the rudder toward the wreck, the men tossed out their oars with a cheer and gave way.

“Fill the main-topsail,” cried I. “Up with your helm, my man, and let her gather way.”

And as the barque drew away diagonally to windward of the wreck, we lost sight of our boat behind the lee quarter of the latter, and began to turn our attention to the problem of getting the people on board our own ship, and of hoisting the gig once more to the davits, if possible, after she had fulfilled her present mission. A sailor’s duty constantly brings him face to face with difficult problems, and among them all there are perhaps few more difficult, though, of course, many of infinitely greater importance, than that of successfully picking up and hoisting a boat that has been launched in a very heavy sea, such as was running upon this occasion. So violent was the motion of the Esmeralda, that to have brought the boat alongside of and actually in contact with her hull would have simply been to invite the instant destruction of the smaller craft; yet it was of considerable importance that the boat should be recovered, since there was no knowing how soon her services might be required again. The problem was how to do it; and here my previous experience was of no service to me, as I had never before seen a boat launched in anything like such heavy weather as that of the moment. So as we drew off from the wreck, and prepared to tack, I gave the matter a little thought, and soon hit upon a plan that I thought would answer our purpose. A few minutes sufficed to place us in the proper position relative to the wreck for tacking, and having got the ship round, gone to leeward of the wreck, and hove-to again with our mainyard aback, I at once proceeded to put my ideas into practice. A whip from the lee fore and main yardarms, with a standing bowline in the end of that depending from the mainyard, and with a hauling-line attached to it, was all that I required, after which I had the davit tackles overhauled to their extremest limit, with a stout rope’s-end bent on to each fall just inside the sheave, so that the tackle blocks should reach quite to the water even when the ship was taking the heaviest weather roll.

Meanwhile, Roberts, in the gig, was faring capitally; he had succeeded in getting up stern on, close under the lee quarter of the wreck, with a line from her to the boat, and down this line the people were passing pretty rapidly, our men keeping the line taut all the while by tugging away steadily at the oars. Occasionally one, a little bolder than his fellows, would leap overboard, when Roberts or one of the boat’s crew was always ready to seize him by the collar and drag him into the boat. Everything seemed to be going on with the utmost regularity—one man, whom I took to be the skipper of the wreck, evidently superintending affairs on deck, while Roberts was attending them in the boat—yet it was easy to see that not a moment was being lost, one man being no sooner safe in the boat than another started to follow him. And, indeed, there was evidently the utmost need for haste, for the wreck was visibly settling before our eyes, every sea making a cleaner breach over her than the last, while there were occasions when she was absolutely buried, fore and aft, in a wild smother of white water, nothing of her showing above the turmoil save the stumps of her spars, a small portion of her poop skylight, and the davits with the fragments of the boats hanging from them. On one of these occasions the boat in the starboard davits—that one already mentioned as having had her bottom torn out—was completely demolished, nothing of her remaining when the buried hulk once more rose to the surface. When this was likely to happen the people on board the wreck—warned by their skipper—clung for dear life to whatever they could first lay hold of, while those in the gig, similarly warned, letting go the rope, pulled out of reach of the smother, only to back smartly up again the moment the danger was past.

At length one man only—the skipper—remained on the wreck. I saw him pause for a moment and glance round him at the poor, shattered, labouring relic of the ship that had borne him so proudly out of harbour, probably not very long before, and on board which he had perhaps successfully battled with wind and wave for many years, and then drawing his hand across his eyes—to clear them, maybe, of the brine that had been

dashing into them for the last few eventful hours, or, more probably, to brush away a tear of regret at this dismal ending of a voyage that was no doubt hopefully begun. Finally, waving a signal to Roberts, he placed his hands above his head and, poising himself for an instant, dived headlong into the raging sea. A breathless moment of suspense, and then we saw Roberts lean over the boat’s quarter, grasp something, struggle with it, and finally the diver’s form appeared on the gunwale and was dragged safely into the boat. At this moment a towering billow reared itself just beyond the labouring hull, sweeping down upon it, green and solid, with a curling crest of hissing, snow-white foam. The men in the gig fortunately saw it too in time, and, with a warning shout to each other, stretched out to their oars for dear life. On swept that hissing mountain of angry water, heaving the wreck up on its steep side until she lay all along upon it, presenting her deck perpendicularly to us; then, as it broke over her in a roaring cataract of foam, we saw the upper side of her deck inclining more and more toward us until over she went altogether, nothing of her showing above the white water save her stern-post and the heel of her rudder. For a fraction of a moment it appeared thus, the copper on it glistening wet and green in the light of the declining sun; then the crest of the wave interposed between it and us, and hid it from our view. When, a few seconds later, the great wave reached us and we soared upward to its crest, the wreck had vanished, nothing remaining but a great patch of foam and a curious swirling of the water’s surface to show where the good ship had been.

Meanwhile, the gig, now deep in the water, was making the best of her way down to us, and I freely confess that when I saw that huge wave chasing her I gave her up, and everybody in her, as lost. The boat’s close proximity to the wreck, however, probably proved her salvation, for its fury seemed to have been spent in completing the destruction of the ship, and before it could gather strength again it had swept harmlessly past the boat and, equally harmlessly, down upon us. A few minutes later, the little craft—oh, what a frail cockleshell she looked in the midst of that mountainous sea!—swept close under our stern and, splendidly handled by Roberts, came to under our lee. The ends of the two whips were smartly hove into the boat and caught, and Roberts, instantly comprehending my intentions, lost not a moment in putting them into effect. The barque, with her main-topsail aback but with her fore-topsail and fore-topmast staysail full, was forging very slowly ahead, just sufficiently so to enable those in the gig to sheer her well away from the ship’s side when towed along by the whip from the fore-yardarm; while with the aid of the whip and hauling-line from the main yardarm we were able to get the rescued people quickly and safely out of the boat and in upon our own deck, where—the boat now demanding our most unremitting attention—we turned them over to the willing hands of Sir Edgar Desmond and his party, the women finding themselves impelled by their sympathy to take an active part in the reception of the poor half-drowned fellows. Our own lads worked intelligently and with a will, and, in a shorter time than it takes to tell of it, everybody was safely out of the boat except the chief mate and the two smartest men we had in the ship. We were now ready to make the attempt to hoist in the boat herself. The tackle-falls were accordingly manned by all hands except two, who stood by with the running parts in their hands, ready to drop them into the boat at the proper moment, while I, in the mizzen-rigging, keeping a keen watch upon the seas, superintended the whole. The boat was now sheered as close alongside as it was prudent to bring her; and the two men in her stood by—one forward, the other aft—to catch the blocks and slip the clutches into position, Roberts, meanwhile, attending to nothing but the steering of the boat. At length, as the ship took a terrific weather roll, and the gig seemed to settle in almost under her bottom, I gave the word to heave, and both tackle blocks were dropped handsomely into the hands of the men waiting to catch them. In an instant both clutches were dashed into their sockets—the click of the bolts reaching my ears distinctly—and the two men simultaneously flung up their hands to show that this delicate operation had been successfully accomplished, and that the boat was fast. The ship had by this time recovered herself, and was now nearly upright in the performance of a correspondingly heavy lee roll.

“Round-in upon the tackles, lads, for your lives!” I shouted; and at the words the slack was taken in like lightning, the strain coming upon the tackles exactly at the right moment, namely, when the ship was pausing an instant at the steepest angle of her lee roll, prior to recovering herself.