The Cruise of the "Esmeralda"

by Harry Collingwood

It was useless to think of heaving the ship to, or otherwise attempting to save the lives of the unfortunate Malays whose craft we had just destroyed; the thing was an absolute impossibility, and any such attempt would only have resulted in our own destruction; we had no option but to continue our headlong flight to leeward, leaving our enemies to save themselves, if they could, by clinging to the wreckage.

Immediately after the collision the carpenter came aft, and, without waiting for orders, carefully sounded the pumps. The result was a report that the hold was dry; we had therefore apparently sustained no serious damage to our hull; while, so far as spars and rigging were concerned, we did not appear to have parted a rope-yarn.

For fully half an hour the squall raged as madly as at the moment when it first burst upon us; all this while the ship was scudding helplessly before it, drawing nearer every moment to that deadly lee-shore that I knew must be close at hand, and which I every instant expected would bring us up all standing. At length, however, to my intense relief, the gale slightly but perceptibly moderated its headlong fury; and determining to at once avail myself of this opportunity, I called the hands to the braces, and prepared to bring the ship to the wind on the starboard tack. The moment that everything was ready I signed to the man at the wheel to put the helm gently over; when, as I was turning away again to give my orders to the men at the braces, one of them startled me with the cry of—

“Land ho! ahead and on the port bow!” I caught sight of it at the same instant, the air having momentarily cleared somewhat of the spindrift and scud-water that had hitherto circumscribed our horizon and obscured our view. Yes, there it was, a low, dark shadow against the now clear, starlit sky right ahead and stretching away to port and starboard on either bow. It could not be more than three miles distant from us—if so much—for the air, though somewhat clearer than it had been, was still thick, yet the loom of the land through it was clear enough; altogether too much so, indeed, for my liking. What it was like to the eastward I could not distinguish, for in that direction it faded quickly into the thick atmosphere that lay that way; but westward it terminated in a low point that already bore well out upon our larboard beam—a sight that caused me to most heartily congratulate myself that I had determined upon rounding-to on the starboard tack; for had I done so with the ship’s head to the westward, without seeing this point, we could not possibly have weathered it, and must have taken our choice—when we did discover it—of going ashore upon it, or upon the land to leeward, should we attempt to wear the ship; for she would never have tacked in such a sea as was now running, with such a small amount of canvas as we were showing.

As the ship came to the wind we, for the first time since the outburst of the gale, gained something like a just idea of its tremendous strength and violence. With nothing on her but the two close-reefed topsails and the fore-topmast staysail, the poor little Esmeralda bowed beneath the fury of the blast until her lee rail was awash and her lee scuppers more than waist-deep in water. The howling and hooting of the gale aloft, as it tore furiously through the maze of spars and rigging opposed to it, produced a wild medley of sound that utterly baffles all attempt at description; while the savage plunges of the ship into the short, steep sea and the horrible way in which she careened during her lee rolls almost sickened me with anxiety lest the masts should go over the side and leave us to drive ashore, a helpless hulk. True, in such a case we might have attempted to anchor, but I had very grave doubts whether our ground-tackle, good though it was, would have brought us up in such weather. The masts stood well, however—they were magnificent sticks, both of them, while our standing rigging was of wire throughout—and, as to our canvas, had I not seen it, I could not have believed that any fabric woven by mortal hands would have withstood such a terrific strain. It did, however, and moreover dragged the ship along at a speed of which I should never have believed the little craft capable, under such very short canvas, and close-hauled, had I not been present to witness her performance. With her steeply heeling decks, her taunt masts and their intricacy of standing and running rigging taut and rigid as iron bars to windward, while to leeward they streamed away in deep, symmetrical curving bights, her braced-up yards, and the straining canvas of the close-reefed topsails and fore-topmast staysail all swaying wildly aslant athwart the blue-black expanse of star-spangled sky; with her lee rail awash; her decks a tumultuous sea in miniature with the water that came pouring in whole cataracts over her upturned weather-bow as her keen stem plunged headlong into and clove irresistibly through the heart of wave after wave, flinging a blinding deluge of spray right aft as far as the poop, and ploughing up a whole acre of boiling, luminous foam, to pour, hissing and roaring, far out from under her lee bow and flash glancing past in a bewildering swirl of buzzing, gleaming froth, while the din of the wild gale raved aloft, and its furious buffeting almost distracted one’s senses, the gallant little barque thus fighting for her life would have presented an exhilarating spectacle to any one; while a seaman’s appreciative heart would have thrilled with exultation at her bearing in the strife. But though travelling fast through the water, the poor little ship was at the same time sagging most frightfully to leeward, the staysail seeming to drag her head two or three points off the wind at every send, and bringing her almost broadside-on to the sea. And although we were heading fairly well out toward the open water, I could not conceal from myself the awkward truth that our excessive leeway was reducing our course to one practically parallel with the trend of the coast; and sometimes I even thought that we were slowly but surely setting in toward the land. The fact was that the ship needed more after-sail to enable her to hold a good luff; yet it seemed to me that it would be impossible for her to bear any more. She was indeed rather over-pressed than otherwise, as it was, and had I had plenty of sea-room I would have endeavoured to relieve her of the fore-topsail at once, even at the risk of losing the sail in the attempt to hand it. But with that relentless lee-shore in plain view I dared not do it; it was imperative that she should carry every thread we were then showing, and more if possible. While I was still inwardly debating the question it was settled by the lookout reporting land ahead! I staggered over to windward at the cry, and at the expense of a thorough drenching, despite the oilskins I had donned some time before, made it out, a bold lofty headland, jutting far out to seaward, and lying dead ahead of us. The ship was embayed! The land ahead was certainly not more than three miles distant, and the ship was setting bodily down toward it at every plunge. The time for hesitation was past; something had to be done, and done promptly, too, or another half-hour would see the last of the poor little Esmeralda. Our main trysail happened to be a nearly new sail, bent for the first time when starting on this voyage; it was made of good stout canvas, and was beautifully cut. I therefore determined to attempt the experiment of setting it, though I scarcely hoped it would endure the tremendous strain to which it would be exposed long enough to drag us clear of that terrible point. Mustering the hands, therefore, we got the sheet aft and the block hooked on to the eye-bolt; then, all hands tailing on to the fall, the lower brails were eased gently away, the sheet being dragged upon at the same time; and in this way we managed to get the foot of the sail extended without splitting it. The hauling out of the head was a much simpler matter; and in less than five minutes I had the satisfaction of seeing the entire sail extended without having parted a thread. The effect of this added canvas was tremendous; the lee rail was completely buried, and the deck was now so steeply inclined that during the lee rolls it was impossible to maintain one’s footing without holding on to something. But we no longer sagged to leeward as before; the ship now held her luff, and the threatening headland was brought to bear nearly three points on our lee bow; if the trysail would only hold out long enough we might yet hope to scrape clear. But would it? Involuntarily I held my breath every time that the ship rolled to windward; for then the strain on canvas and spar and rigging was at its heaviest, and it really seemed to me as though nothing made by mortal hands could withstand it. Minute after minute passed, however, and still the good sail stood, while hope every moment grew stronger within my breast.

We had reached to within half a mile of the point, and I was already congratulating myself upon the certainty that we should clear it, when I happened to catch a momentary glimpse, through the driving spray, of something peculiar in the appearance of the water just off the point. Surely it could not be—fate would not be so cruel—and yet—

“Breakers on the lee bow!” simultaneously reported the two men on the lookout.

Then I was not mistaken; it was broken water I had seen. Yes; there could not be a doubt about it, for while I strained my gaze in an effort to pierce the darkness a ghostly white gleam shot into the air, such as is caused by the water breaking heavily upon rocks.

“Ay, ay; I see them,” I answered; then, to the man at the wheel—“Watch your helm carefully, now, my man. Keep her clean full, and let her go through the water; but do not let her go off a hair’s breadth more than is necessary. You must weather that reef if you have any wish to see to-morrow’s sun rise.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” answered the fellow, earnestly; and I saw him brace himself afresh as he fixed his eye more intently upon the weather leach of the main-topsail.