The Adventures of Louis de Rougemont

by Louis de Rougemont

Blinding rain had been falling most of the time, and the waves came dashing over the deck as though longing to engulf the little ship; but she rode them all in splendid style. The climax was reached about two o’clock, when a perfect cyclone was raging, and the end seemed very near for me. It made me shudder to listen to the wind screaming and moaning round the bare poles of the sturdy little vessel, which rose on veritable mountains of water and crashed as suddenly into seething abysses that made my heart stand still. Then the weather suddenly became calm once more—a change that was as unexpected as the advent of the storm itself. The sky, however, continued very black and threatening, and the sea was still somewhat boisterous; but both wind and rain had practically subsided, and I could now look around me without feeling that if I stirred I was a doomed man. I clambered up the lower portion of the main rigging, but only saw black, turbulent waters, hissing and heaving, and raging on every side, and seemingly stretching away into infinity. With terrible force the utter awfulness and hopelessness of my position dawned upon me, yet I did not despair. I next thought it advisable to try and slip my anchor, and let the ship drift, for I still half-fancied that perhaps I might come across my companions somewhere. Before I could free the vessel, however, the wind veered completely round, and, to my horror and despair, sent a veritable mountain of water on board, that carried away nearly all the bulwarks, the galley, the top of the companion-way, and, worst of all, completely wrenched off the wheel. Compasses and charts were all stored in the companion-way, and were therefore lost for ever. Then, indeed, I felt the end was near. Fortunately, I was for’ard at the time, or I must inevitably have been swept into the appalling waste of whirling, mountainous waters. This lashing of myself to the mast, by the way, was the means of saving my life time after time. Soon after the big sea—which I had hoped was a final effort of the terrible storm—the gale returned and blew in the opposite direction with even greater fury than before. I spent an awful time of it the whole night long, without a soul to speak to or help me, and every moment I thought the ship must go down, in that fearful sea. The only living thing on board beside myself was the captain’s dog, which I could occasionally hear howling dismally in the cabin below, where I had shut him in when the cyclone first burst upon me.

Among the articles carried overboard by the big sea that smashed the wheel was a large cask full of oil, made from turtle fat, in which we always kept a supply of fresh meats, consisting mainly of pork and fowls. This cask contained perhaps twenty gallons, and when it overturned, the oil flowed all over the decks and trickled into the sea. The effect was simply magical. Almost immediately the storm-tossed waves in the vicinity of the ship, which hitherto had been raging mountains high, quieted down in a way that filled me with astonishment. This tranquillity prevailed as long as the oil lasted; but as soon as the supply was exhausted the giant waves became as turbulent and mountainous as ever.

All night long the gale blew the ship blindly hither and thither, and it was not until just before daybreak that the storm showed any signs of abating. By six o’clock, however, only a slight wind was blowing, and the sea no longer threatened to engulf me and my little vessel. I was now able to look about me, and see what damage had been done; and you may imagine my relief when I found that the ship was still sound and water-tight, although the bulwarks were all gone, and she had all the appearance of a derelict. One of the first things I did was to go down and unloose the dog—poor Bruno. The delight of the poor creature knew no bounds, and he rushed madly up on deck, barking frantically for his absent master. He seemed very much surprised to find no one aboard besides myself.

Alas! I never saw Peter Jensen again, nor the forty Malays and the two women. Jensen may have escaped; he may even have lived to read these lines; God only knows what was the fate of the unfortunate fleet of pearl-fishers. Priggish and uncharitable people may ejaculate: “The reward of cupidity!” But I say, “judge not, lest ye also be judged.”

As the morning had now become beautifully fine, I thought I might attempt to get out some spare sails. I obtained what I wanted from the fo’c’sle, and after a good deal of work managed to “bend” a mainsail and staysail. Being without compass or chart, however, I knew not where I was, nor could I decide what course to take in order to reach land. I had a vague idea that the seas in those regions were studded with innumerable little islands and sandbanks known only to the pearl-fishers, and it seemed inevitable that I must run aground somewhere or get stranded upon a coral reef after I had slipped the cable.

However, I did not see what advantage was to be gained by remaining where I was, so I fixed from the stern a couple of long sweeps, or steering oars, twenty-six feet long, and made them answer the purpose of a rudder. These arrangements occupied me two or three days, and then, when everything was completed to my satisfaction, and the ship was in sailing trim, I gave the Veielland her freedom. This I managed as follows: The moment the chain was at its tautest—at its greatest tension—I gave it a violent blow with a big axe, and it parted. I steered due west, taking my observations by the sun and my own shadow at morning, noon, and evening. For I had been taught to reckon the degree of latitude from the number of inches of my shadow. After a time I altered my course to west by south, hoping that I might come upon one of the islands of the Dutch Indies,—Timorland, for instance, but day after day passed without land coming in sight.

Imagine the situation, if you can: alone on a disabled ship in the limitless ocean,—tortured with doubts and fears about the fate of my comrades, and filled with horror and despair at my own miserable prospects for the future.

I did not sail the ship at night, but got out a sea-anchor (using a float and a long coir rope), and lay-to while I turned in for a sleep. I would be up at day-break next morning, and as the weather continued beautifully fine, I had no difficulty in getting under way again. At last the expected happened. One afternoon, without any warning whatsoever, the vessel struck heavily on a reef. I hurriedly constructed a raft out of the hatches and spare spars, and put biscuits and water aboard, after which I landed on the rocks. When the tide reached its lowest point the stern of the Veielland was left fully twenty feet out of water, securely jammed between two high pinnacles of coral rock. The sight was remarkable in the extreme. The sails were still set, and the stiff breeze that was blowing dead against them caused them to belly out just as though the craft were afloat, and practically helped to keep the vessel in position. The bows were much higher than the stern, the line of the decks being at an angle of about forty-five degrees. In this remarkable situation she remained secure until the turning of the tide. My only hope was that she would not suffer from the tremendous strain to which she was necessarily being subjected. It seemed to me every minute that she would free herself from her singular position between the rocks, and glide down bows foremost into the sea to disappear for ever. But the sails kept her back. How earnestly I watched the rising of the waters; and night came on as I waited. Slowly and surely they crept up the bows, and the ship gradually assumed her natural level until at length the stanch little craft floated safe and sound once more, apparently very little the worse for her strange experience. And then away I went on my way—by this time almost schooled to indifference. Had she gone down I must inevitably have succumbed on those coral reefs, for the stock of biscuits and water I had been able to put aboard the raft would only have lasted a very few days.

For nearly a fortnight after the day of the great storm I kept on the same course without experiencing any unpleasant incident or check, always excepting the curious threatened wreck which I have just mentioned.

Just before dusk on the evening of the thirteenth day, I caught sight of an island in the distance—Melville Island I now know it to be; and I was greatly puzzled to see smoke floating upwards apparently from many fires kindled on the beach. I knew that they were signals of some kind, and at first I fancied that it must be one of the friendly Malay islands that I was approaching. A closer scrutiny of the smoke signals, however, soon convinced me that I was mistaken. As I drew nearer, I saw a number of natives, perfectly nude, running wildly about on the beach and brandishing their spears in my direction.