Bahama Bill, Mate of the Wrecking Sloop Sea-Horse

by T. Jenkins Hains

The water rose rapidly in the cabin. It was over the floor two feet deep by three o'clock, and the mate came through the bulkhead door and announced that the yacht had stove amidships, and was hanging upon a point of coral, which prevented her from driving farther in.

As near as he could make out, there was still seven feet of water alongside to leeward, the vessel now lying almost broadside to the sea, which broke heavily over her. She had been drawing twelve feet, and had driven up five feet, resting upon her starboard bilge, except when she lifted with the sea. Something must be done, for the water would be too deep below to remain there much longer. It would be at least five feet deep in the cabin, and would swash about enough to drown any one.

The roar of the wind was growing rapidly less, but the crash of the seas prevented Smart from noting it definitely. He waited and watched the rising flood. O for a little daylight, to see where he had struck! Was there a chance to make a landing? To put off in that smother in the small boats without knowing where he would bring up was too disagreeable to contemplate until the last moment.

The water gained steadily, and the women became panicky. The major no longer jested, and Dunn was not in doubt. He had stopped drinking, for the peril of the night was upon him now in earnest.

Smart, with the mate, made his way on deck, closing the hatchway after them. They crawled along the weather-rail and gained the waist, where the whale-boat was snugly stowed under the shelter of the rail to leeward. The water broke over them constantly, but the wind was going down, and Smart decided to make ready to try to effect a landing.

The whale-boat was in perfect order, and it would hold all hands, but he decided that half of the crew should make the first attempt, in order to see if there was any place to make the beach. They could bring her back for the rest, and if they failed, there was the gig; it would hold the women and the rest of the crew.

When they had the boat over the side, it was all they could do in the darkness to keep it from smashing back with the back-wash of the sea. The mate managed to get four men into her, and sprang in himself. Smart went aft and brought Dunn and some of the others, the major staying with Mrs. Dunn and Miss Harsha. Ten men left the Sayonara, and were instantly swallowed up in the gloom. Then Smart went back below to await the mate's return.

In the meantime the water below had risen so high that even the transoms upon which the refugees perched were several inches under, and at each surge it went all over them, roaring and washing about. The cabin lamp was extinguished, and the black darkness which ensued lent terror to the turmoil in that little cabin.

An hour passed, and no boat came back. It looked ominous. The mate would surely come back if he could. He was evidently lost or unable to pull up against the heavy wind and sea. There was no use waiting any longer. The water was still rising below, and the women must be taken ashore if it were possible.

Smart got the rest of the watch to work upon the gig, and by superhuman efforts they finally swung her to leeward, and held her clear of the side. Miss Harsha was lowered into her, and then Mrs. Dunn. The latter seemed perfectly at ease, and scorned the assistance of the major, who gallantly offered to go with her. The noise of the roaring water precluded any attempt at conversation, and the darkness made all cling close to the rail in a bunch, each helping the other as best they could.