The clouds their thunder-anthems sang;
And billows rolling fearfully,
In concert with the whirlwinds rang.”
All hands were gazing upon the grand spectacle, when, suddenly, a clap immediately over our heads—a sudden flash—a jar, followed by impenetrable darkness. All hands were dumb; no one dared to speak. The ship had been struck, but none could ask where, fearful of being told we were lost. The mate, however, soon came along, and gave proper directions to examine the ship. He then went to the main-top, and found the powder, which had been placed there for safety, all right. Another descended to the hold, but discovered no fire. It appears the lightning struck our main-royal truck, and descended to the deck, which being wet, it passed off with but little damage. The next morning, on unfurling the main-royal sail, we found thirteen holes burned in it, about the size of a musket ball. The lightning went through the “bunt,” as it was rolled on the yard, thus accounting for the large number of holes.
As soon as it was generally known we had escaped with so little injury, all experienced a feeling of gratitude for our truly remarkable escape. As we before remarked, the powder, which was contained in two “breakers,” or long, narrow barrels, each containing four kegs, was placed in the main and mizzen tops, one breaker on each side of the mast. The lightning had descended immediately between the two breakers in the main-top. Had it ignited the powder contained in one of the kegs, in all probability our voyage at sea, and perhaps for life, would have been soon ended. We felt truly thankful that we had so miraculously escaped. Some two or three of the men were knocked down, and others stunned, but nothing serious. The night slowly wore away; the constant glare of the fierce lightning, and the never-ceasing roar of the thunder, continuing until day dawned.
We all felt relieved when daybreak once more came over the sea. The gale, which had increased during the night, now abated; the clouds broke away, even the one with the “silver lining,” and “old Sol” once more showed his cheering face, and sent his gladsome rays rejoicing over the face of the great deep.
CHAPTER VIII.
Preparing for Cape Horn.—Head Winds.—Staten Land.—Cape Horn.—Heavy Gale.—Porpoises and Albatross.—Mackey and the Third Mate.—Captured a Sperm Whale.—Preparing for Port.—The Anchor down.
We now commenced making preparations for that much-dreaded place, Cape Horn. Took the anchors in on deck, and lashed them solid; also the boats from off the cranes, and secured every thing generally. We were now sailing along with fine breezes from the northward, but the coolness of the air reminded us that we were approaching the southernmost point of land. On the 13th of January the wind veered round to the south, and increased to a heavy gale. We reduced the sail to a close-reefed main-topsail, sent down top gallant yards, and prepared for a regular “Cape Horner.” At midnight, however, the wind abated, and sea went down; next morning it was pleasant, with fine northerly breezes; but at night the wind again hauled to the southward, blowing heavy, with rain, which obliged us to heave to. Thus the wind often changes in the Atlantic in this latitude; sometimes ships are kept here for weeks by head winds.
On the 25th we were off Staten Land. This island presents a bleak, rocky appearance. Saw a ship trying out, which assures us that sperm whales have been taken here lately.