We had a splendid run down the Channel, and on the following evening we passed the Fastnet. Our people were having a gay time, singing and dancing on deck, and greatly enjoying themselves. In the middle of this revelry we passed the “Underwriter,” one of the Black Ball sailing-packets, also bound for New York. She was under whole topsails, plunging into a head sea and throwing the spray fore and aft.
We looked upon her with admiration, but with feelings of immense superiority. The old order had passed away, and the new had arrived in the “Great Eastern.” Many were the congratulations expressed upon the advance in naval architecture, and many indeed fancied that the perils and discomforts of the sea were things of the past. The next day was one of those drab grey days so frequent upon the Atlantic. The wind was increasing in force, and more northerly. The sea was getting up, but the great ship, meeting it almost dead ahead, scarcely heeded it. “She is as steady as a rock.” “Wonderful!” were some of the remarks passed around as we took our morning constitutional.
By noon the scene had changed. The wind had veered round to the north, bringing up a heavy beam sea. The big ship began to lurch and roll heavily, taking heavy spray overall. Some of her movements were significant of danger—she hung when thrown over by a sea, and recovered very slowly. A huge sea striking her on the starboard bow swept her fore and aft, and carried away one of our paddle wheels and several boats. An ominous silence shortly prevailed, and it was whispered that the rudder had been carried away. The great ship fell into the trough of the sea and became unmanageable, lurching and rolling heavily and deeply. The seas, from time to time, striking her with great force, made her quiver fore and aft. The second paddle wheel was soon swept away, and boat after boat was torn from the davits, the wrecks in many instances being suspended by the falls. While destruction was being wrought on deck, the damage in the saloons and state-rooms was appalling. They were simply wrecked by the furniture getting loose and flying about, breaking the large mirrors which adorned the saloon, and adding broken glass to the dangerous mass of debris. Many of our passengers were badly wounded.
The engineers were trying to repair the broken rudder-stock by coiling round it iron chains to form a drum, so as to be able to get a purchase upon it. That night was a night of much anxiety, but the behaviour of the passengers was exemplary. The ladies found a part of the saloon where they could sit on the deck in comparative safety, and here they knitted and sang hymns. There was a general effort to make the best of things.
The following morning the weather had slightly moderated, but the sea was still mountainous, and we rolled heavily. The chain cable stowed in one of the forward lower decks broke loose, and burst through the outer plating and hung in a festoon overboard. The cow-house had been destroyed, and one of the cows was suspended head downwards in the skylight of the forward saloon, and a swan which had been in the cow-house was found in the saloon.
The Captain sent for some of the passengers he knew, and told them that, as the crew had broken into the liquor store, he wished to form special guards to patrol the ship. Some twenty or thirty volunteered, and for four hours each day we patrolled the ship, having a white handkerchief tied round our left arm as our badge of office.
Food had become a difficulty. All the crockery had been smashed, so the victuals were brought down in large stew pans, and taking pieces of broken dishes, we helped ourselves as best we could.
In the afternoon the “Scotia,” outward bound for New York, hove in sight. The great Cunarder looked stately and magnificent, and as she gracefully rode over the big seas without any effort, simply playing with them, she told us what design, knowledge and equipment could do. After sailing round us, she bore away on her voyage. Another miserable night followed, and it was obvious that the mental strain was beginning to tell upon some of our people.
The following day the weather was much finer and the sea moderate, but we were still helpless, a derelict on the wide Atlantic. No success had attended the effort to repair the rudder-stock; nothing would hold it. In the afternoon a small Nova Scotian brig hove in sight, and sailed round us, as we thought, within hailing distance. One of our passengers offered the Captain £100 per day if he would stand by us. No answer coming, an offer to buy both his ship and her cargo was conveyed to him, but still no answer came, and in the evening she sailed away. The Captain of the brig was apparently some time afterwards informed of what had taken place, and promptly claimed one day’s demurrage, and was suitably rewarded.
It was now evident that our only hope was to hasten the repair of the rudder-stock. In our dire emergency a young American engineer, Mr. Towle, offered a new suggestion, to build a cross head on to the broken stock, and to steer the ship with tackles attached to it. After some hours’ work and the exercise of much ingenuity, he succeeded, to the great joy of everyone.