The bird came straight toward him. He was quiet as a cat waiting for a spring, his eyes glaring at it as it approached. Then something attracted his attention. Upon the foot of the bird was a bit of cord. Yes, there was no mistake, it was his pet, the bird he had captured. He started up with a cry, but the bird came steadily toward him without fear, and in an instant was poking his great beak into his hand for food.
The seaman’s heart was beating wildly. Here was food enough for a week right in his grasp. He had but to seize the bird’s neck quickly and with the little strength he had left he could strangle it. The thought called forth all the wild wolf spirit in his nature. He was trembling with the excitement. But, as he looked down upon the beautiful, smooth white neck of his former pet, he wavered. Something within him rose against a deed of violence. He stroked the soft feathers and looked at the creature, who was probably almost as hungry as himself. No, he would commit no horrid act. He would probably starve anyhow, and it would be better to die than to have such a conscience. Then all of the beast fell away from him and he felt better.
But while he sat and stroked the great bird his mind was active. The albatross would not remain there long. He would follow some vessel for the beef-fat from her coppers, and as the thought came to him he began a plan to attract attention.
He tore from his shirt a long piece of linen. This was a piece having his name written upon it in indelible ink which had stood the wash of the laundry. It would stand the wash of the sea. He made it fast to the bird’s leg, and the bight of it he brought up over the back beneath the wings, tying it loosely and leading the other end down so that it could be fastened to the other leg. The thin cloth lying loose would prevent the bird from cutting it with its beak, for the edges of that appendage, while very sharp, were not laid as close together as those of a pair of shears, and the thin cloth would work between them. Upon the top of the piece he wrote with his own blood, “Cape Horn, Hermite Isle, Help.” Underneath this he put the date, and let his laundry mark do for signature. Then he led the bird gently to the edge of the rock and pushed him over.
Afterward he settled down in his bed of tussac and waited for the end he now felt was at hand. He prayed to the God he had felt in the breath of the trade wind and roar of the storm, the power which was manifest in all nature. Then a feeling of peace came upon him and his sufferings were over; he had collapsed.
Two days later the Norwegian bark Eric was working to the westward past Cape St. John. Her captain had noticed a great albatross following his vessel all day, and saw the bird had something fast to its leg. Being of a very superstitious nature the master did everything he could to attract the bird’s attention and draw him close enough to observe the hanging cloth more thoroughly. He was astonished to find the bird quite tame, and had no difficulty in hauling it on deck with a baited hook. He took off the rag and read the inscription, which had luckily kept clear and dry, for the weather had been cold and the sleet squalls had not caused the writing to run.
Being in the neighborhood of the Horn, he did what no one but a very superstitious master would have done without great trepidation. He stood under all sail for Hermite Isle and hove his ship to not three miles from the rocks. The weather was better than usual and he had no difficulty in lowering a small boat and making a landing.
As the craft drew near the land the white life-buoy attracted the helmsman’s attention, lying high up on the rocks and showing out strongly against the background of black ledge. The boat was headed into a rift or slue, and two of the men managed to spring out of her, the rest keeping her clear of the rocks, which, although sheltered in the slue, felt the tremendous lift and back-wash of the heavy swell outside. The master was found unconscious in his bed of tussac-grass.
By care and skill they managed to get him into the small boat alive and started for the bark that was riding safely in the offing. They hurried back aboard and came alongside just as the Norwegian navigator set the great bird free again. The men rested upon their oars and watched the albatross as it stretched forth its wings and bore away to the southward. A man standing in the lee rigging held a line to throw to the bow oarsmen, but he hesitated and watched the majestic flight. The officer in the boat looked instinctively upward, and, as the huge creature soared away, he took off his cap and bowed his head.