Harper's Round Table, November 24, 1896

by Various

The men tumbled out from the deck-house. The top-sails which we had carried all the afternoon were taken in, and a reef put in the foresail and mainsail.

I watched all this bustling about with much delight, and then my attention was drawn to the sky. The clouds had now spread so that they were almost over us; a few big rain-drops fell and made little splotches on the surface of the water and spattered the deck in spots as big as dollars. They could be heard falling in the stillness against the dry sails overhead. Then, without a warning, there came another flash of lightning and a deafening thunder-roll. A slight puff of wind trailed the heavy blocks on the main boom rattling across the deck. The yards swung about with a complaining, creaking noise.

The Captain seized the glass and pointed to the westward; then he jumped to the wheel, jammed it over, and immediately began shouting orders to close the hatches, haul in the main-sheet, and make all snug. Every eye had followed the aiming of the telescope—a line of white below a wall of gray was coming toward us on the rush! A few more drops of rain fell softly, and then the thunder began to crash and roar on every hand.

Warned by the Captain, Mr. Chaffee and his wife went down to the cabin, both pale with fright. I, however, kept the deck, and in some way (I cannot account for it) was overlooked. And here nearly comes an ending to my story.

So suddenly and so fair abeam did the wind strike us that it was almost a knockdown then and there, and the first thing I knew I slid across the deck over against the lee bulwarks. The scuppers were running so full that I went under from head to foot; I thought surely I was going to be drowned—in fact, I think I took a few strokes and imagined myself overboard. The masts were extending over the water so far that the yard-arms almost dipped, the crew were hanging on by anything they could lay hand to, and the wind raised such a screeching in the rigging that the Captain, who was bawling at the top of his lungs, might as well have held silence; his voice apparently blew down his throat. Nevertheless, some of the crew must have understood him, for they clambered into the shrouds. This I noticed as I tried to crawl up the slope of the deck. Then there came a loud report; the foresail blew out into tatters, and the brig righted. A turn of the wheel, and she was put before it, crashing down into the sea (that came tumbling under her quarters), and now and then lifting her stern as if she would roll over like a ball—any which way.

I managed with difficulty to make the head of the after-ladder, and stumbled down it head first, some one slamming the sliding-hatch with a bang almost on my heels as they went over the combing. Looking about me, I found Mr. Chaffee and his wife engaged in prayer. They were much bruised from having been flung about the cabin, and were in great fear that we were about to founder.

But the Minetta was going so much steadier now that we all three sought our bunks, and managed to stay in them, and I had so much confidence in the Captain and crew, and was so unfamiliar with terror, that probably I did not recognize the nearness we had come to disaster, so after an hour or so I went to sleep.

When I awakened the sunlight was pouring in at the transoms, and we were gently heaving up and down. There was nothing to give me an idea of the time of day, but I could smell the brewing of coffee, and dressed hastily. No one was in the cabin, and the breakfast was untasted on the table; so, hearing the sounds of conversation, I went on deck. We were hove to, and within an eighth of a mile of us another vessel was coming up into the wind. She was very trim to look at, and I saw that a boat was being lowered over her side, and that she had the weather-gage of us.

The Captain was walking up and down with his arms folded, and our crew were gathered in the waist, muttering in surly and half-frightened voices.

"We are in for it this time, Master Hurdiss," said Mr. Chaffee, casting a bitter look over the taffrail at the stranger, from whose peak was flying the British Jack. "We are under the lion's paw, and no mistaking it."