It may have been explained by the fact that we were so near each other that one took the wind out of the other’s sails. At least, the two huge ships were no longer under control.
“I’m hanged if she ain’t got away from him!” I heard Tom Thornton yell; but which ship he meant I did not know.
The Gullwing took a shoot. The Seamew took a shoot. Then the two ships clinched!
Talk about a smash! It was the most awful collision one could imagine. Two express trains on the same track, coming head-on, could have made no greater explosion of sound. And it did seem as though no other kind of a collision could have resulted in so much wreckage.
I grabbed up Phillis just before the ships came together, and dashed for the companionway. But as I gained its shelter I saw the spars raining from aloft on both vessels, with the canvas and cordage in a perfect jumble.
It fairly shook the spars out of the Seamew. I believed, at the last moment, that the Gullwing had sheered off. At least, she had taken the blow on more of a slant. The wire stays upon our sister ship had been torn away and her foremast came down and hung over the rail a complete wreck.
Her other masts wavered. I could see that she was shaking like a wounded thing; I believe she was settling even then. She had opened a great hole in her hull forward. I could see the ragged, splintered ends of the planks.
Our own damage and peril I could not gauge until I had set Phillis down and rushed back to the deck. The old Gullwing was hobbling away from her sister ship. Captain Bowditch was bawling orders from the bridge; but I heard nothing but screams of rage and fear from the Seamew. And Captain Si Somes was no longer in sight.
“Axes, men!” roared our skipper. “Get aloft there! Cut away wreckage! Clew up everything that ain’t torn away. Look alive, up there, Mr. Gates.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” responded the mate from forward.