The silver sheen of the flying-fish now added to the dreamlike splendour of the view as they skipped through the pearly atmosphere to fall with a faint rippling splash in the cool waters. I watched them through the lazy hours from the ship’s side, and saw that the shower of brilliants which entertained us was due to the keen pursuit of the dolphins and bonitos. When the silvern cloud arose and took its arrow-like series of flights and dips, like an imitation on a small scale of the ricochet of a cannon-ball in the water, the relentless pursuers would describe the chord of an arc, judging accurately where the spoil would fall when the last drop of water on their wings had dried, and the poor little things that escaped the gulls and frigate-birds in the air were often devoured on touching the other element, though the smallest sprinkling of water seemed to be sufficient to give the fish strength for another aerial rebound.
The dolphins were not free from the vicissitudes of life. The sailors amused themselves by spearing them from the forechains, and a fish was often transfixed with jaws extended in the moment of an expected banquet. Then the death of the dolphin was a picture—a beautiful dissolving view. He always made a good end. “Nothing in his life became him like the leaving of it.” The fleeting shades of green, yellow, and gold which shot through him as he lay quivering on the deck, arrayed in all the enchantments of colour, made a fascinating transformation scene. He died emitting a flood of exquisite hues, as the swan is said to sing his sweetest note at the moment of death. Rainbows served for his apotheosis as his spirit ascended to the happy hunting grounds of all good fishes, where there are no wicked sailors to annoy.
All that is bright must fade. Fair weather does not last for ever, even in the Pacific. For a time we had heavy tropical showers, repulsive mists, and short, fierce squalls which blew with hurricane force for a few minutes.
The weather cleared again. We knew that we were very near the Fijian archipelago, and we were expecting to sight land every moment, when a great peace fell upon the ocean. It was an ominous calm. The barometer indicated some startling change. As yet there was not a ripple on the water, but heavy clouds hung motionless in the sultry air, and gradually grew more lowering. The face of nature turned livid. The oppressive silence communicated itself to all on board. We waited for the coming storm, wondering from which direction we should feel it first. The atmosphere was hot, lurid, obscure.
In a moment there was a perceptible chill. Turning round I noticed a movement in a pillar of cloud on the far horizon astern of us, which had become as black as ink. The whole mass seemed to be bearing down upon us, and gathering volume as it progressed, till what was originally a black spot filled half the heavens. Then we caught the sound of an angry wind rapidly increasing in force. The water was lashed into fury, and was being driven towards us in a compact body, which rose several feet above the level of the smooth sea that lay between us and the blast. We could hear the coming whirlwind screeching along the surface of the water. Then it was upon us with a prolonged relentless shriek, and we knew that we should soon be in the vortex of a South Sea hurricane.
The wind caught the schooner astern. She had been luckily brought under easy sail, or she would have been dismasted. The canvas she carried lifted her forward with one tremendous bound, and then every inch of it was furiously torn from her and hurried away on the wings of the gale. The vessel was now fairly enveloped in the tempest, running with it under bare poles—a skeleton ship engaged in a terrible race with Death. Her shrouds and stays rang responsive to the wind, like the strings of a harp, furnishing a weird musical accompaniment to the howling of the storm.
The noise was terrific. The sound was that of air travelling with the highest attainable velocity, and carrying with it the ocean spray. It was as if we were actually enclosed by a great body of water rapidly in motion, forming part of a concrete moving mass, and as though every particle of the element was endowed with the power of shrieking demoniacally. No man’s voice could by any possibility be heard, nor could anyone stand on deck without holding on to something. It was appalling. We felt that the Angel of Death had encompassed us with his wings.
In the course of the night the wind changed its direction several times. Towards morning the fury of the storm had abated a little, but hoisting sail was still out of the question. The two sailors who manfully stood lashed to the wheel in an exposed position during the night had had their jackets and shirts blown off their backs. With great difficulty a bit of tarpaulin was made fast to the bowsprit to do duty as a storm-jib, but the vessel was practically beyond control.
To add to the dismal terror of the time, a fearful thunderstorm broke upon us. The vivid lightning flashes which lit up the whole of the inky vault above brought the sweltering desert of water into view with a weird effect which dazed us. The air was charged with electricity, and our vessel became the subject of the phenomenon known as St. Elmo’s light. Each mast was crowned with a baleful fire which shed a ghastly bluish light upon the men on deck, imparting a corpse-like hue to their faces. It was many hours since I had eaten or slept, and this gruesome sight so held my fancy that I could not divest myself of the idea that I was with the terrible crew of the spectral ship of old Vanderdecken, to look upon whose fleshless heads was death to all respectable seafarers. We sped along under those fearful candles, while the thunder with its claps and peals and long-reverberating roll seemed to form the mad music of a wild funeral march.
Day broke upon a woeful scene of desolation. The struggling dawn showed through the gray mirk a canopy of clouds torn and mangled by the wind into every conceivable shape, and a seething sea which boiled away to a dismal horizon, where the broken surface was tinged with a wan light, which added to the feeling of isolation and mystery that gathered round the scene. On our lee was a great misty dome, which we were rapidly approaching. It might be a cloud-form, or it might be an island, for all that we could see in the neutral-tinted gloom.