Bahama Bill, Mate of the Wrecking Sloop Sea-Horse

by T. Jenkins Hains

"Shall we keep her off, sir?" he asked.

"No, hold your course," came the order.

Ten men of the watch on deck had their eyes upon the light. They gave it small attention, however, for they knew, of course, that the steamer would sheer clear of them. The watch below and the passengers were sleeping as well as the rolling and plunging of the vessel would permit, and they were concerned not at all with lights. Those below in a ship know nothing of the strenuous life of those on deck.

"I can see his red light, sir," came the voice of the mate, strained and hoarse with excitement, and raised to a loud cry.

But Johnson could see the green light also, and he saw they were equally distant on either side of and below the bright eye which was bearing down upon them. The vessel was now close aboard, and of a sudden he felt his heart give a great bound under his ribs.

"Hard up the wheel," he roared. "Hard up, hard up—quick," and as he roared out he sprang to the spanker sheet and cast it off, letting the sail go to leeward with a thundering thrashing. Sharp cries came from forward where the men on lookout saw the danger and passed the word aft. And then as he turned, Johnson saw the giant bulk of a liner showing dimly through the gloom of the stormy night. A hundred little lights showed in her upper works. He even saw a man on her forecastle head peering forward, and then the great black stem rose above him, and with a thundering crash and rushing roar it tore its way through his ship almost amidships.

For a moment which seemed an age, the great black side of the hull rose before his vision, grinding, smashing, tearing its irresistible way past. Then the great black demon of destruction drew away and faded into the gloom, leaving nothing but a boiling sea forward of where the mainmast had been. The next minute the wild sea of the Western Ocean closed over what had been a short time before a fine ship.

Johnson found himself facing a living hill which rose against the night sky. Above it a great comber roared and foamed down upon him as the top of the sea broke and fell downward along the slope. He was in the sea and the water was warm, warmer than the air had been when on deck. He had on his rubber boots and oilskins, and he wondered why he still floated. He had heard that men with boots on sank at once. He remembered this distinctly and he struck out strongly as the foaming crest of the comber swept over him and smothered him down into the blackness beneath. He kept struggling and his head came out into the night again. The wind swept over his face, driving the foam and spume so that he could not see or breathe, but he knew he was still upon the surface of the sea. He turned his back toward it and managed to get a little breath. Then, half blinded and strangling with the brine, he struck out again.

It suddenly occurred to him that the steamer would stop and try to pick up the wrecked crew, but then he knew it would be impossible to lower a boat that night, and the masters of liners seldom stopped for anything. Transatlantic express steamers hardly ever stopped in good weather for a man overboard in daylight. Never unless they could see him distinctly upon the surface. If those upon the steamer could not see a four-masted schooner under storm canvas with her lights burning brightly, they would hardly hope to see a floating man who could not be seen ten fathoms distant by the sharpest eyes in that wind and sea. He tried to raise himself to see if the hull of the vessel was still in view, or if she were burning lights, but not even a Coston flare was visible. There was nothing save the desolate storm-lashed sea.

He had kicked off his rubber boots in a few moments, as they were dragging him down, and being a powerful man he struggled steadily to rid himself of his oilskins. Death had not made his appearance yet. He could not come upon a strong man so quickly while that man had his powers still left him to fight with. The very thought of the ending made him exert more power and a sudden realization of his position caused him to tear off his coat in a frantic effort. The faces of those he had left at home came before his half-blinded vision. He knew he was facing almost certain death, and that it would come quickly if no one picked him up. He was apparently alone in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and the steamer had kept on her course after completing the destruction of his ship. The rest of his crew must also have gone overboard. There were twenty-five souls all told, and he cursed the men of the steamer who had caused their sudden end. It had been vile carelessness. It had been more than brutal disregard for life. Their callousness amazed him, and he had been to sea many years and knew its heartlessness.