“Ye can’t do nothin’ with a ship caught in the center of one o’ them circular storms. It blows in sech squalls that there aint no way a tellin’ which way it’s comin’, only it comes with sech a mighty weight that no ship kin stan’ to it. An’ the sea falls down on ye from anywhere at all till the decks are under tons o’ water, an’ everythin’ gone to the devil stove up.
“The Spitfire ware knocked over in one o’ the rushes o’ hot wind that ripped the funnel out o’ her. Then an almighty sea broke right amidships an’ tore the side o’ the house away an’ flooded the engine room. It ware lookin’ kind o’ bad fer us, an’ when the engineer come on deck half drowned, an’ said the engine ware done fer an’ the water a-comin’ in about two feet at a jump, we made up our minds the ole ship ware done fer, an’ the best thing ware to get clear as soon as we could.
“But no small boat could have lived in that sea a minute. There wasn’t anything to do but wait until the gale wore down, which it did after about three hours of the heaviest blowin’ I ever seen. Then she eased up an’ the ole ship was jest decks out in a sea what would make yer hair white to look at.
“We made a lee o’ the side an’ lowered down the boats before daybreak, that dinky little skipper jest a-standin’ an’ lookin’ on an’ never a-sayin’ a word.
“The first officer he takes the first boat what swings clear, an’ then the gal she looks down at the second mate. He puts her in the next boat an’ they lower it down an’ they scramble to get in, fer the ship is wallowin’ in that nasty sea an’ feels dead. Some fool fumbles the tackle an’ nearly capsized the craft, but the second mate he grabs the line in time to save it an’ she goes clear. The men rush to find places, an’ then the second mate stan’s there alone with that dinky little skipper, who hasn’t spoken or moved from the chart-house door.
“It’s all mighty plain. The fellers from below, white with scare an’ tremblin’ as they grab the ship’s sides. Some pushes the others an’ then they curse and swear to kill each other when there aint enough breath in them to speak out loud.
“‘Be ye a-goin’ in that boat, sir?’ says the second mate to his captain.
“‘Go an’ be d——d,’ says the dinky little skipper.
“An’ the second officer jumps in an’ the painter is cast off. Then the little skipper stan’s out an’ watches them slowly go away—watches them drawin’ off further an’ further, an’ his eyes is on the gal in the boat, an’ his hands is folded on his breast. That’s the last they sees o’ him as he stands there with the risin’ sun a-shinin’ on him an’ the blue sea washin’ nigh up to the ole hooker’s deck.
“Fer seven days an’ nights the fellers in that boat has a time with it. Then there comes a ship bound in an’ takes ’em aboard, an’ in a few days they finds themselves in New York, the second mate an’ the gal hardly speakin’.