The ship seemed conscious of the general feeling, and struggled, I thought, more desperately than ever. She breasted the huge billows with gallant perseverance, and though each one set her closer to the shore, she met the next wave with the same stubborn resolution. Nearer, nearer, nearer we drilled toward the fatal cape. I could now almost fling a biscuit into the breakers.
I had noticed a gigantic roller coming for some time, but had hoped we might clear the cape before it reached us. I now saw the hope was in vain. Towering and towering, the huge wave approached, its dark side almost a perpendicular wall of waters.
“Hold on all!” thundered the captain.
Down it came! For an instant its vast summit hovered overhead, and then, with a roar like ten thousand cataracts, it poured over us. The ship was swept before it like a feather on a gale. With the waters dashing and hissing over the decks, and whirling in wild eddies under our lee, we drove in the direction of the cape. I held my breath in awe. A strong man might almost have leaped on the extreme point of the promontory. I closed my eyes shuddering. The next instant a hurrah met my ear. I looked up. We had shot by the cape, and miles of dark water were before us. An old tar beside me had given vent to the cheer.
“By the Lord!” he said, “but that was close scraping, sir. Another sich would have cracked the hull like an egg-shell. But this craft wasn’t made to go to Davy Jones’ locker!”
And with all the coolness imaginable, he took out a huge piece of pig-tail, leisurely twisted off a bit, and began chewing with as much composure as if nothing unusual had happened.
A year ago, when in New York, I met the captain again, unexpectedly, at the Astor. We dined together, when I took occasion to ask him if he remembered our winter night’s experience in the Irish Channel ten years before.
“Ay!” he said. “And do you know that, when I went out to Liverpool on my next trip, I heard that search had been made all along the coast for the fragments of our ship. The escape was considered miraculous.”
“Sir,” I replied, “I’ve had enough of the Irish Channel.”