On the morning of September 17th came a change in the direction of the wind. The officers consulted the barometer, and the land-lubbers, taking amateurist observations of their own, saw that it was falling. Then came a few gusts, the sky changed, and in a little while a terrific storm burst over the steamer. The vessel rolled, and the horses, unused to such a motion, had difficulty in retaining their feet. Clouds of spray dashed over the bridge and tons of water broke upon the decks. The stalls were flooded and became slippery, and the animals frequently fell. Sometimes a lurch threw at least fifty from their feet. Instantly there was a struggling, kicking mass of horse and mule flesh on the decks. The cowboys, although experiencing the first real nausea during the voyage, bravely went among the helpless brutes and assisted them to their feet. For two days and nights this went on, and few men were able to sleep. Finally things got so bad that Captain O’Neil sent a written request to Captain Raicich to change the course of the vessel to any direction that would give the least motion to the ship.
Those who have never been to sea may not know the danger of putting a vessel about in a sea which is piling up angrily from every direction. The order was sent through the ship that she was to go about, and everyone clung to a support during the manœuvre. Gradually the vessel answered her helm; the roaring wind beat against her hull, heeling her far over, until the landsmen clung desperately to anything handy to prevent them sliding into the boiling sea. At length the manœuvre was safely executed, and all hands breathed a sigh of relief. The vessel scudded before the wind, riding more easily, though she was going far out of her course.
“A TERRIFIC STORM BURST OVER THE STEAMER.”
When the sun broke through the clouds a tropical-looking island loomed up on the horizon, which proved to be the island of Saipan, of the Ladrones group, just to the north of Guam. Whether it was inhabited those aboard did not know, for there was not on the ship a chart or book bearing upon the island. A mysterious column of smoke shot up from a grove of trees as the vessel passed by, followed by a second and a third. A “council of war” was held. Were the mysterious smoke signals sent up by shipwrecked sailors or by natives with questionable intentions? Captain Raicich cut the Gordian knot with the statement that the Siam was under contract to the United States Government at six hundred dollars a day, and as considerable time had already been lost he could not for a moment think of detaining the vessel while an investigating committee went ashore.
After that storm the ship was a hospital, for two hundred and thirty-three horses and mules were more or less injured, and every man devoted his whole time to caring for them. Strange to say, many of the cowboys and mules had been associated for years in Government work, and they were therefore old friends, and the men were sympathetic veterinarian nurses. Six animals died of their injuries.
That storm was a heartrending set-back to the ambitions of Captain O’Neil. However, he made the best of the experience by preparing for similar episodes. One day the engines gave out, and the vessel lay to for several hours while the engineers and firemen worked like Trojans to repair the damage. At first it was decided that the vessel, being then near the Philippines, could make port with the one uninjured engine, but it was finally decided that it would be best to repair the damage at sea. It was well that this decision was arrived at, otherwise the Siam would never have reached port.
On September 29th the steamer was close to Cape Engano, on the northern coast of the island of Luzon. On the morning of September 30th the sky became overcast, the wind freshened, and the barometer fell. In the afternoon there was a peculiar glow in the clouds, which behaved most curiously; they seemed caught in currents of wind and were stretched out across the heavens in orderly lines, parallel with the horizon. To the landsmen none of the signs were ominous, but the ship’s officers sent orders quietly among the crew.
CAPTAIN SENNEN RAICICH, OF THE “SIAM.”