The foremast was gone at the lower mast-head, leaving the fore yard still in its place, upon which the tattered remnants of the foresail were still visible. It had apparently been clewed up without having been furled, and the winds of five weeks had whipped it into ribbons. The entire mainmast was gone about ten feet above the deck, and in falling had smashed the bulwarks on the port beam and quarter so that the water flowed all over the deck, where it was several inches deep. She was so low that her main deck was level with the ocean, and small seas were constantly toppling over her bows and low bulwarks, where they broke in showers of spray. The main boom was hanging over the side, while the bowsprit and all the jibs were entirely gone. The main hatch was battened down, but the fore was off, and upon looking below the cargo of lumber was seen pressed up close under the hatch, where it occasionally surged slowly from side to side in obedience to the sluggish motions of the brig. On top of the after house a small boat painted white was lashed, having in some way escaped the general destruction. The wheel and rudder appeared uninjured. There was a perfect litter of ropes, blocks, standing rigging, etc., floating about the deck, all tangled in a confused mass.
The party now entered the cabin. Everything here was drenched; the skylights were gone; fragments of glass encumbered all that portion of the floor not under water; and there was a damp, musty smell such as one encounters on entering a cellar not often opened. The captain’s compass was still in its place under the centre skylight, but its brass work was badly stained with salt water. The state rooms were in much the same condition as the cabin, and the whole port side of the after house seemed to be slightly stove. The companion-way door was ripped off, and nowhere to be seen.
On emerging from this dismal place the mate took a peep into the crew’s quarters. The rows of bunks in which the men had slept still contained a mouldy mattress or two, while a large cask that had doubtless been used as a table was rolling about the floor. A couple of rusty pannikins floated about in the shallow water. It was of course impossible to enter the lazarette or the fore peak, for they were submerged. All the provisions were ruined, but the scuttle butts contained plenty of fresh water.
Having finished his examination, Speers sent the boat back to the tug for a supply of provisions for Miller and Sharkey, who were to remain on the wreck to steer her. As soon as the stores were placed aboard, and a few directions given, Albert and the mate pulled away from the derelict, for a squall was making up in the north-west and it was high time to get under way. Mast-head lanterns were run up, and the two vessels started for Boston.
There was plenty to talk about that night, and Albert staid up long past the usual time conversing with the master of the tug, who was in a jubilant mood, and who more than once invited his cousin to “splice the main brace.” [101]
“The owners will have to give me credit for quick work this time,” the captain said. “Monday we left Philadelphia; Wednesday we picked up the derelict; and on Friday—or Saturday at furthest—we ought to steam up Boston Harbor. Speers says the brig’s cargo seems in good shape, and if so it should easily bring $7,000 at auction. The hull may fetch a thousand more. Not a bad haul, Mr. Shaw for five days’ work.”
“This derelict business seems profitable.”
“It is—if you can find the derelict. For instance, the schooner Sargent has been floating about the North Atlantic ever since last spring, with twenty thousand dollars’ worth of mahogany in her hold. There is a prize worth trying for, but although a score of vessels have sighted her, several of which attempted to tow her in, she is still drifting about with a small fortune on board. Last month some Baltimore parties organized an expedition and chartered a steamer to find the Sargent and bring her in. They searched for several weeks, and then returned to port considerably out of pocket, to find that a Cunarder had just seen the schooner not forty miles off the course they had taken.
“But I must go on deck; the night looks squally.”