Rounding Cape Horn, and Other Sea Stories

by Walter McRoberts

The gray dawn came, by which time the worst was over, and eager eyes scanned the sea for some trace of the brig. But the wreck, sitting very low in the water and with only a few feet of her masts left, had drifted out of the line of vision, though she was probably not fifteen miles away. Wind and sea were still boisterous, but the search began immediately.

The conditions in general seemed to favor a speedy recovery of the Neptune, for the wind was still in the same quarter, the day was clearing rapidly, and the wreck having no sails and being practically under water, could drift but slowly. But the brig’s condition, coupled with the fact that the tug herself sat very low, formed no slight obstacle to early success. Had the Atlas possessed a tall mast, the derelict might have been visible from it, but nothing could be seen from the roof of the pilot-house save the smoke of a steamer on the northern horizon. As time passed, bringing no tidings of the missing vessel, the excitement increased, and a handsome reward was promised any man who should first sight the wreck. Twice a false alarm was given, but the day waned until the shadows stole over the deep. Still there were no tidings.

Through the starlit night Captain James thought of his absent men and of the sufferings they must be enduring. He sent up rockets at intervals, though with little hope of an answer; for the Neptune’s signalling apparatus was doubtless ruined by water, and his men would be powerless to make their presence known.

The sea was calm at daybreak, the sun shone brightly as the hours flew by, and the tug covered many leagues, while the promised reward kept all hands on the alert. The Atlas overhauled a large bark, and spoke her, but she had seen nothing of the Neptune; and another day drew to a close.

One of three things had happened: the derelict had foundered, had been taken in tow by a passing steamer, or was still drifting helplessly about. The first supposition was improbable, if not impossible. Experience has shown that a vessel in the Neptune’s condition can survive tempests that send stout ships to the bottom. As to the second, the number of steamers having facilities for towing wrecks is small, and the castaway’s value must be great to induce one to attempt salving her. The last supposition was probably the true one. A vessel may float about the steam-traversed North Atlantic for weeks without being seen, and not five derelicts in a hundred are ever brought into port. After weighing the chances carefully, the captain came to the conclusion that the brig was still an aimless wanderer, though it was incomprehensible how she could have eluded so thorough a search.

The next day was but a repetition of the one preceding, and this continued until the days became a week. Hope was almost gone, the coal was two-thirds consumed, and still Captain James would not give up.

Finally, ten days after the loss of the Neptune, the Atlas abandoned the search and returned to Philadelphia.

As soon as she was sighted by the operator in the marine signal station, the fact was telephoned to the city; and when she reached the dock, one of the owners was on hand to meet her. Joe Miller and Sharkey were there also, sitting on a box of merchandise, and exhibiting no traces of suffering or emaciation.

The surprise of the tug’s people was great, but the captain was soon enlightened as to the derelict’s fate. That troublesome craft had been picked up the morning after she broke adrift, by a West India fruit steamer bound to Boston. Three-fourths of the steel hawser was still attached to the Neptune, so the steamer had only to fish up the broken end, secure it to her stern bits, and continue on her way. The weather remained fine and she reached her destination the second day afterward.

The division of the salvage money was a delicate matter. An abandoned vessel becomes the property of whoever brings her into port, but in the present instance the derelict was held to be the tug’s property even after she broke adrift, because she continued in possession of two of the tug’s crew, who remained on her from the time the hawser parted until she was safely beached on the mud-flats in Boston harbor. Consequently, she was not legally “an abandoned vessel” when the fruiter picked her up; nor could the latter have handled her at all except for the tug’s hawser. But the steamer had rendered an unquestioned service by towing the wreck into port, and was therefore entitled to a portion of the money. She was finally awarded 25%, while the remainder went to the Atlas.