Picked up Adrift / Illustrated

by James De Mille

Suddenly a thunderous sound arose, which made every one look in terror towards the place from which it came. It was forward. In an instant they saw it all. Several great waves had fallen there in swift succession, striking amidships full upon a round-house which stood there, and was used for the reception of deck cargoes. The force of these blows was resistless; the structure yielded with a crash, and gave way utterly. For a moment it was brought up against the ship’s bulwarks, but the waters poured in underneath, floated it far upward, and tumbled it over into the sea. There it floated at the mercy of the waves, farther and farther away, while the raging billows, like hungry wolves, éncompassed it on every side.

The boys had already felt sufficiently awed by the scene around to be. hushed into silence, but about this last event there was something so appalling that they all uttered an involuntary cry, and clung more closely to the rigging, each one looking at his neighbor with a face of despair. For the only thought now present to each one was, that the ship was breaking up, and that utter ruin and destruction was imminent. The crash of the wave, as it struck the massive structure and tore it away, was so tremendous that the boys might well have dreaded the worst; and the sight of it now, as it tossed and tumbled in the boiling floods, had in it something so terribly suggestive of their own fate, that they shuddered and turned their eyes away.

But suddenly Solomon’s voice broke the silence.

“Dar,” said he; “dar’s how I knowed it was goin for to be. I bet high on de cook’s galley. Dem dar round-houses only built for show; dey got no rail strenf. Now de cook’s galley down dar ain’t goin to gib way dat fashium; she’s boun to stan, jes like de rock ob Gibberalter, an de stove too,—dat’s so.”

There was something in Solomon’s tone which was so cool and matter-of-fact that the others felt a little reassured, and recovered a little of their former coolness. They saw that the ship was still holding together, and as the waves rolled back, they saw the smooth firm deck where the roundhouse had stood, and learned from this that the round-house did not constitute a portion of the ship, but was merely an erection on that deck, and therefore to some extent a movable.

But Solomon’s confidence in the cook’s galley was by no means warranted by facts. Thus far it had been protected to some extent from the sweep of the waves by the round-house, and the loss of this barrier left it all exposed to the full fury of the waters. For some time it bore up gallantly, and as each wave rolled over it, Solomon cheered exultantly, to see it come forth erect from the rolling torrents. At length, however, Solomon’s exultant cries grew fainter, and finally ceased altogether. For the galley was shaking, and quivering, and yielding. At length one side started, and was beaten out; the rest soon followed, until all was crushed to fragments, and its separate portion hurled out upon the angry sea.

“Anyhow,” said Solomon, “dat ar galley held out pooty tough, mind I tell you; an dar’s de stove yet, as large as life, an it’s goin to take a good many waves afore they’ll be able to start her. Yes, dat ar stove’s goin to hold on, mind I tell you; an I’se a goin to bile a kittle ob water on her yet, you see. Will so.”

Whether Solomon really meant what he said, is an open question. He may have really believed it all, or, as is most probable, he may have expressed himself in this way merely for the purpose of giving courage and confidence to the boys, and preventing them from sinking into despair. Certain it is that his words had this effect; and seeing that the loss of the round-house and galley had made no material difference in the ship herself, they clung to hope, and tried to believe that the stout hull, with its firm cargo, would ride out the storm.

But by this time the sun had set; and now, in addition to their other troubles, there was added the dismal prospect of the coming night. Dark, indeed, would that night be to all of them. Fearful enough was their position already; but when, in addition to this, they would find the light of day cut off, and the horror of great darkness all around, what support could they find for their sinking souls, or what hope of escape? Already the land was fading out of sight, lost in the gathering shadows of evening. By the dim twilight they could see that they had drawn much nearer, and their distance seemed now but a few miles. Thus far they had regarded the land only with pleasure; now, however, as the night came down, and the darkness deepened, and the storm increased, they began to experience other feelings with regard to this dreary shore. That it was rocky and forbidding they had already seen, nor had they hitherto been able to detect any part of the coast here which was at all inviting or favorable to a landing. If in such a storm the ship should be driven upon such a shore, what could save her from being shattered to pieces? If in such a darkness they were driven upon those rocks, what could save them from destruction? Yet towards that unknown shore they were every moment drawing nearer, and wind and tide seemed alike to urge them onward towards it.

It was not yet dark, when suddenly a giant wave rose high from underneath the stern, and hung suspended over the quarter-deck. It was the counterpart of that wave which had struck them an hour before. For a few moments it hung, poised and quivering, and then it fell, in thunder, down. It poured all over the barrels of biscuit that were lashed to the mizzen-mast, it swept down through the skylight into the cabin, it rolled in a flood over the deck, and rushed forward, pouring down, and blending its waters with those that boiled and foamed amidships.