The morning had been unusually hot, even for such latitudes, and, as the day advanced, the heat became almost unbearable. The pitch boiled and bubbled up between the deck-seams and the exposed paintwork became disfigured with huge blisters. An awning had been rigged up over the bridge, but, despite this and the fact that it was high above the decks, the atmosphere was like that of a super-heated bakehouse, dry and shimmering, nor was there a breath of wind to stir it. Occasionally a whiff of hot, oily vapour came up through the engine-room gratings and helped to make the air still more heavy and oppressive. Even the sea, calm as a pond, looked oily and hot under the glare of a burning noonday sun set in a sky of metallic blue.
Then, towards eight bells in the afternoon watch, a faint breeze sprang up; the sky changed imperceptibly from blue to grey, and the sun became a red, glowing disc with a slight haze round it. The sea had taken on a yellowish-green tint and angry little wavelets began to chase each other and to dash themselves viciously against the Hawk's sides. Presently the breeze died away as suddenly as it had arisen, but the sky became more and more overcast and the wavelets grew into boulders, white-crested and threatening. The sun disappeared behind a bank of black, evil-looking clouds, while the atmosphere became still more oppressive and the decks and awnings steamed. A strange, uncanny silence had settled over everything, so that the least noise sounded curiously distinct. The throb of the engines, usually mellow and subdued, came now in sharp, staccato beats; the clang of the furnace-doors and the rattle of rakes and shovels in the stokehold could be plainly heard on the bridge.
"Strike me pink, if we ain't in for a bloomin' typhoon, a reg'lar rip-snorter," muttered the second-mate as he mopped his perspiring forehead.
The quartermaster set his teeth and gripped the wheel more tightly—something was going to happen. A moment later, Calamity stepped on to the bridge and gave a quick, comprehensive glance around him.
"Everything lashed up and made secure, Mr. Smith?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," answered the second, and added: "We're runnin' into a proper blazer; none of your bloomin' twopenny-ha'penny breezes this time."
Already the awnings had been taken in, spars and loose gear made fast, derricks secured, and ports screwed down. Every moment it grew darker and the Hawk was beginning to roll in an uncomfortable fashion.
Suddenly the sky was split by a blinding flash of lightning followed by a crashing peal of thunder that seemed to shake the vessel from stem to stern. There was a moment's interval, during which rain-spots the size of pennies appeared on the deck and a grey haze settled over the sea. Then came another flash of lightning, a terrific roar of thunder, and the storm burst in all its fury. The rain came down now in solid sheets of water, pouring off the bridge and deck-houses in cascades and flooding out the scuppers which could not drain it fast enough. The sea had gained in fury with the hurricane and now broke over the bulwarks, mounted the forecastle, and swept along the decks from bow to stern. One great wave even leapt up to the bridge, tearing away the awning spars, smashing the woodwork to splinters, and very nearly wrenching the wheel from the quartermaster's hands.
Another great roller struck the Hawk amidships and she reeled till her port bulwarks were under water. Gradually she righted, her funnel-guys twisted into a mass of tangled wire, her boats carried away or stove in, her decks, fore and aft, littered with wreckage and gear which had been swept loose. Between the deafening peals of thunder, the shouts and curses of the poor wretches in the stokehold could be heard as they were thrown against the glowing furnace doors, or the firebars slipped out, shooting great masses of red-hot coal and clinker among their half-naked bodies.
Sometimes a wave would catch the vessel under the stern, lifting her so that her bows plunged forward into the boiling sea ahead, her propeller racing high in the air until the plates quivered with the vibrations. Or she would lift her nose to an oncoming billow, and, rising with it, bury her stern in the seething vortex till the wheel-house disappeared from view beneath the turbid, foaming water. It seemed impossible that any ship could live through such a storm.