On Board the "Rocket"

by Robert C. Adams

The ship made good headway in spite of this, and soon again passed Fair Island and the inevitable boat-load of beggars, and commenced battling with the Atlantic. Lat. 60° N. in the month of January is not a very agreeable locality to sail in, and gales of wind were frequent visitors. We were about half way across the ocean, when one evening the captain, anxious to finish his passage, was "carrying on" to the ship with the double-reefed topsails, steering west, with the wind north. The ship was thus right in the trough of the sea and as it blew a fresh gale, and the seas were beginning to roll higher and higher, the men cast many uneasy glances to windward. At a little before eight o'clock, while the watch was pumping ship, a sea broke on board forward, and breaking down the bulwarks and tearing away the water-casks from their lashings, swept aft, and catching up the crew at the pumps carried them down into the lee scuppers. As I was washing about with the surges of the water I at first thought I was overboard, but after awhile managed to get on my feet and was pleased to find the deck still under them. Half a dozen men were standing up to their necks in water howling Swedish exclamations, declaring they had broken arms and legs and so on, and when I got around to windward the moon broke out through the clouds and showed a scene of the greatest confusion. Boat, spars, and ropes had been washed off the house, and the decks were piled up with the debris of water-casks and bulwarks. As soon as the frightened sailors could be got to work sail was reduced, and upon surveying the damage done, it was found that the ship's stem was started away from the "wood ends" and the water must be pouring into the hold. Some hands at once were set to work to prepare for throwing overboard cargo from the fore-hatch and the rest sent to the pumps. To the great relief of all, the noble pumps that had been furnished in Gothenburg worked splendidly and freed the ship from water. As soon as the mate could get time he began to count the men, fearing that some had been washed overboard, and failing to make out the number he took a look into the forecastle and discovered five sailors snugly ensconsed in their bunks. When they spied the mate they all began to groan and cry, and upon inquiry he learned that one had broken his back, two had broken legs, and the other two broken arms. He called the captain, who made a hasty examination which convinced him they were more frightened than hurt, and he said: "I'll give you all just five minutes to get out on deck, and if you ai'n't out in that time I'll come in and drive you out with a handspike." This threat brought the broken legs and arms into action and they all made their appearance within the prescribed time, somewhat bruised but none of them seriously injured.

Two days after this the water was quite smooth and the captain desired to do something to stop the leak forward, which kept the pumps going nearly all the time. It was necessary for some one to go over the bow in a "bow-line," and as the weather was cold and the person would dip in the water, it was an unpleasant as well as a dangerous task. The captain disliked to order any one to do it, but the mate volunteered to the work. A bed-quilt was cut up into long strips, and being lowered down over the bow in the bight of a rope with a stick, the mate proceeded to stuff the quilt into the open seam and then nailed canvas over it down to the water's edge. At every dip he was nearly submerged in the cold waves, but manfully did his work until the last nail was driven, and then the hammer dropped from his benumbed hand and he was drawn on board thoroughly chilled. He was taken to the cabin and treated to a stiff drink of whiskey. He soon recovered from the immediate effects of his exposure, though for some time after he felt the drain it made on his powers of endurance. The leak was reduced one half by his labors and he was regarded as a hero.

All felt very anxious upon approaching the coast, fearing to encounter heavy weather while the ship was in this crippled condition. But in spite of our hopes the gales were destined to come.

A few days after this, another gale set in at midnight, and at one o'clock in the morning all hands were called to double-reef the topsails. It was a dark, wild night, blowing hard with rain and sleet, and very cold. The crew were so worn out with exposure they were not very lively, and we were an hour and a quarter before we got below again. In reefing the fore-topsail we were aloft twenty minutes, the sail being wet and stiff and the yard not being properly braced to the wind so as to "spill" the sail. The captain swore we had been up there two hours, and said he would see if the main-topsail couldn't be worked quicker. He got his rope's end, and at the order "lay aloft," he flew around the deck and beat every man into the rigging; then he followed them aloft, thrashing at every one he reached. When they laid out on the yard, he walked out to each yard arm holding on to the top-gallant studding-sail booms, which were triced up, and beat each man over the head and shoulders. Standing in the maintop he struck at each sailor as he passed down. We were five minutes longer than we had been at the fore-topsail, but the captain flattered himself he had hurried matters. In memory, this dark night, the fierce storm, the cold blinding sleet, the weak and disheartened crew and the worst storm of rage, curses and blows from the captain, form an abiding impression of a demoniacal event.

The ship was so deep her decks were always wet, and seas broke over her continually when the wind attained to any force. Even if protected with oil-clothing a sea would often knock one down and soak him. To stand on deck four hours in a cold, stormy night, soaked to the skin and with boots saturated and partly filled with water, makes one's life seem to be oozing away. No wonder sailors are short-lived; sea exposure and shore degradation soon use them up!

When about in the longitude of Cape Sable we took a fresh southerly gale with warm rainy weather, and the same afternoon it suddenly hauled to the north-west, increasing in force, and the weather becoming very cold. The wet sails froze so stiff that it was with the greatest difficulty that the crew could furl them, and while trying to close-reef the fore-topsail five of the men had their hands frozen and with difficulty got safely on deck. The "Dublin" had the old-fashioned whole topsails and it was a dreadful job to handle them. The plan of making two handy sails out of one large one as in the "Howe's Rig," which is now almost universally adopted, is one of the greatest blessings of the age to the mariner, and yearly saves numbers of lives and a vast amount of hardship. Some of the men, whose hands were frozen, restored the circulation by rubbing them in the icy water which washed over the deck, but two of them were disabled, and upon arrival in port had to submit to the amputation of some of the fingers and toes. I had both hands frozen, but soon thawed them out in the cold sea water.

The ship was now hove to on the starboard tack, the gale was blowing fiercely, and ice making on the ship. The clothes of the men were frozen upon them, and when the watch was ordered to go below I took the last dry clothes I had from my chest and turned into my bunk. I was only just going to sleep, when above the noise of the gale sounded the rustling and slatting of the fore-topsail, which had blown adrift, and then came the mate's cry, "all hands ahoy! Rouse out here and furl the fore-topsail." This was a moment of real hardship, and it required a great deal of heroism to spring from one's bunk and face the freezing gale aloft. I confess I shirked duty and waited for a second call, which fortunately did not come. A few sailors soon appeared on deck, and the rest too much terrified or too irresolute to meet the harsh duty were dragged out of their bunks by the mate and driven aloft, with threats of blows from a handspike he carried in his hands.

For fifteen minutes the crew battled with the stiff icy sail. Again and again they had it gathered up and the blast would sweep it from their benumbed hands, but finally the gaskets were passed around it and the order was given to "lay down." The sailors then turned in and rolled themselves up in their blankets to try one phase of a sailor's life, "turn in wet and turn out smoking."

All the next day the gale raged with fury, the ice was a foot thick on deck, and the ropes and rigging were masses of ice. It was impossible to work ship or make sail and we let her lie and drift to the southward. The day succeeding, the gale moderated and the thermometer suddenly started up. Trying the temperature of the water alongside, we found ourselves in the Gulf Stream. All that day we were employed drawing up the warm water from alongside, pouring it over the rigging and beating off the ice. At night we got it sufficiently cleared to allow us to make sail. Fine weather succeeded and in a few days we found ourselves on George's Bank. The captain hailed the fishing schooner, "Eliza A. Proctor," to find out our position, as he was somewhat distrustful of the accuracy of his chronometer.

"Schooner ahoy!"