“Frail as the boom-house appeared, it was well jointed and framed, or it would simply have gone to pieces under the various assaults of wind and waves, and the rolling of the boom. The floor in particular was very carefully secured, being bolted to the boom at the four corners, that it might not be torn away by any chance collision with log or icecake. At every wave, however, the water came spurting through the cracks of the wall, and I was drenched almost before I knew it. Through the open door, too, the back wash of the waves rolled heavily; and even without the increasing peril of the situation, the prospect of having to pass the night in such cold, inescapable slop was far from comforting.
“The door was made to fit snugly, so I shut it in the hope of keeping out some of the water; but in the almost total darkness that ensued my apprehensions became unbearable. The writhing roll of the boom grew more and more excessive, and produced a sickening sensation. I threw the door open again, but was greeted with such a fierce rush of wave and spray that I shut it as quickly as I could.
“I had never before been on the boom-house after dark, so I did not know what Mat was accustomed to do for light. After much difficult groping, however, I found a tin box, fortunately quite waterproof, in which were matches and a good long piece of candle. When I had succeeded in getting the candle to burn, I stuck a fork through it, and pinned it to the driest spot I could find, which was the edge of Mat’s bunk, away up close to the roof. Presently a spurt of water struck the veering and smoky flame, and again I was in darkness. Of course I lost no time in relighting the candle; but within ten minutes it was out again. I repeated the process, and was prepared to keep it up as long as the matches would hold out. In fact, I was thankful for that little annoyance, as it gave me something to do, and diverted my mind somewhat from my own helplessness and from the imminent peril of the situation.
“There was absolutely nothing that I could do to help myself. To reach the shore by crawling along the boom would have been quite impossible. I should have inevitably been swept off before going three feet beyond the shelter of the boom-house. In those choppy and formless seas and in the bewildering darkness, I should have found it impossible to swim, or even to keep my mind clear as to the direction in which the shore lay. Though a strong swimmer, and accustomed to rough water, I knew very well that in that chaos I should soon be exhausted, and either drowned or dashed against the boom. There was nothing to do but wait, and pray that the boom-house might hold together till calm or daylight.
“It was a strange picture my faint candle revealed to me within the four narrow walls of my refuge. All the implements and accessories of Mat’s somewhat primitive housekeeping had been shaken from their shelves or from the nails on which they hung, and were coasting about the floor with a tinny clatter, as the boom twisted and lurched from side to side. Three joints of rust-eaten stovepipe kept them in countenance, and from time to time I had to jump nimbly aside to save my shins from being broken by the careering little stove. Sometimes I would be thrown heavily against the wall or the door. At last I climbed into the bunk, where I crouched, dripping and shivering, both courage and hope pretty well drenched out of me.
“Being something of a slave to routine, when I found myself in what resembled a sleeping-place,—or might have resembled one under more favorable circumstances.—I took out my watch to wind it. The hour was half-past nine. From that hour till nearly midnight there was no change in the situation. Finding that the matches were running low, I occupied myself in protecting the light with the aid of the tin box already spoken of. And at last, strange as it may seem, I found myself growing sleepy. It was partly the result of exhaustion caused by my anxiety and suspense, but partly also, no doubt, a sort of semi-hypnotic bewilderment induced by the motion and by the monotonous clamor of the storm.
“As I sat there crouching over the candle I must have dropped into a doze, for suddenly I felt myself hurled out of the bunk. I fell heavily upon the floor. The boom-house was in utter darkness. I staggered to my feet and groped for the candle; it was gone from the edge of the bunk. In my fall I had evidently swept it away.
“The motion of the boom had now greatly increased in violence, and it was impossible for me to stand up without clinging tightly to the edge of the bunk. In the thick dark the stove crashed against my legs so heavily that I thought for a moment one of them was broken. I drew myself up again into the bunk, no longer feeling in the least degree sleepy.
“Presently I realized what had happened. The boom had parted at the joint where the wings began, and my section was swinging before the wind. The waves frequently went clear over the roof, and came pouring down the vacant pipe-hole in torrents, whose volume I could guess by their sound. The pitching, rolling, tossing, and the thrashing of the waves were appalling; and I fervently blessed the sound workmanship that had put together the little boom-house so as to stand such undreamed-of assaults. But I knew it could not stand them much longer. Moment by moment I expected to find myself fighting my last battle amid a crash of mad waters and shattered timbers.
“In a little I began to realize that the boom must have parted in two places at least. From the unchecked violence of its movements I knew it must have broken loose at the pier. With this knowledge came a ray of hope. As my section was now nothing more than a long and very attenuated raft, it might presently be blown ashore somewhere. If the boom-house would only hold out so long I might have a fair chance of escaping; but I realized that the progress of the fragment of boom would necessarily be slow, as wind and current were at odds together over it.