The Survivor
"Light dead ahead and close aboard, sir," said the mate in a tone of anxiety, as he poked his streaming sou'wester down the companionway.
Captain Johnson was bending over his chart, his parallel ruler placed firmly on east by south. The droning roar of the gale overhead and the booming of the storm canvas and taut standing rigging made the officer's voice sound strangely expressionless. The slight nervousness evident in the lowness of the tone was the only thing that made the master look up.
The swinging lamp cast a strong light upon the articles of his room, and as he took up his sou'wester and tied the strings under his chin, he caught a momentary glimpse of a photograph pinned over his desk. The wild rolling and plunging of the ship caused him to brace himself for a moment, and he stood with legs apart, swaying, to keep his balance. The picture was of his wife and children; those for whom he toiled at sea, and he thought of them the moment he made ready to go on deck. He was only a moment getting ready, for he had kept on his rubber boots and coat, but in that moment his thoughts went to the home ashore. He loved those children, and he adored the woman who was their mother. They were all of his world ashore, and it was for that little world he worked and strove at sea.
In less than a minute after the mate had called he was on deck gazing through his night glasses at the light ahead. He was almost in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and the light was bright, the headlight of some steamer. Her side lights had not yet appeared through the drift and spume of the gale, but the headlight was bright and it was not changing its bearings, which was the bad sign that had worried the mate.
Johnson knew he had the right of way. Every man who knows anything of the rules at sea knows the sailing ship has the right of way over a steamer, and Johnson knew he was hove-to under storm canvas and must not give way or change his course. For him to get out of the steamer's way would put the burden of blame for anything that might happen upon himself, for it might confuse the steamer, which would, of course, at the right time shift her course and go clear.
But the light ahead grew brighter, and the moments were flying like the gale. The light was right over the jibboom end when the ship fell downward into the sea. Then it would swing to leeward a little, and then as the next sea swung her head off it would appear on the weather bow. Yes, it bore almost dead ahead and it was not changing its bearings.
The mate was getting nervous.