The ship made daily runs of extraordinary distances, the outlook was beautifully clear, and the sky of a vivid steel-blue hue. In short, she had now reached that portion of the ocean known to mariners as the 'rolling forties,' since below the latitude of forty degrees south, and as nowhere else are such steady winds obtainable, the masters of all vessels bound toward Australia, New Zealand, or Tasmania, seize the opportunity of 'running their easting down,' in other words, keeping an almost due easterly course.
And then it was that the only accident, a disaster, in fact, of appalling suddenness, marred the otherwise successful voyage of the 'Silver Crown,' and cast a deep gloom over everyone on board.
One bright but cold Saturday morning the ship raced along at about fourteen knots an hour, every inch of her best and newest canvas swelling out magnificently in the strong wind, and broad bands of seething foam leaped and hissed on either side.
The middle and after staysails, or those between the masts, were kept set, but owing to the heavy 'send' of the sea, and the consequent swing of the hull, they were not always full, and, of course, the sheets, or such ropes as held down the lower corners of those triangular-shaped sails, lay useless until again strained by the wind.
All the female steerage passengers were turned up on deck for the customary weekly clothes wash, and with their tubs stood along each side of the deck.
Beside them husbands, sons, or brothers, supplied the water, which was drawn from the sea in small pails supplied for that purpose.
For a while all went well, and merry laughter and chatter prevailed fore and aft the main deck.
Suddenly the appalling cry 'Man overboard!' arose.
The captain rushed on deck, and the helm was jammed hard down. The ship immediately swung into the wind without shipping much water. The sails beat heavily in the strong wind, the crew rushed to the braces, ropes whizzed through their blocks, a lifebuoy was flung astern, and when the yards had been steadied the lee lifeboat, in charge of Mr. Statten, got safely away from the ship.
By that time Captain Thorne had reached the mizen top, and through his glasses sought trace of the unfortunate man, but all he could see were some albatrosses, which were following the vessel, hovering above a spot far to windward.