The Wreck of the Grosvenor, Volume 3 of 3 / An account of the mutiny of the crew and the loss of the ship when trying to make the Bermudas

by William Clark Russell

The wind was killing up aloft, and I was heartily glad to get on deck again, not only to escape the wind, but on account of the fore-topmast and top-gallant mast, both of which had been heavily tried, and now rocked heavily as the ship rolled, and threatened to come down with the weight of the yards upon them.

But neither Cornish nor I had strength enough in us to stay the masts more securely; our journey aloft and our sojourn on the yards, and our fight with the wind to maintain our hold, had pretty well done for us; and in Cornish I took notice of that air of lassitude and dull indifference which creeps upon shipwrecked men when worn out with their struggles, and which resembles in its way the stupor which falls upon persons who are perishing of cold.

It was fair, however, since I had had some rest, that I should now take a spell at the wheel, and I therefore told Cornish to go to the cabin lately occupied by Stevens, the ship's carpenter, and turn in, and then crawled aft to the poop and desired the boatswain to go below and rest himself, and order the steward, who had not done one-tenth of the work we had performed, to stand by ready to come on deck if I should call to him.

I was now alone on deck, in the centre, so it seemed when looking around the horizon, of a great storm, which was fast lifting the sea into mountains.

I took a turn round the spokes of the wheel and secured the tiller ropes to steady the helm, and held on, crouching to windward, so that I might get some shelter from the murderous force of the wind by the slanting deck and rail.

I could better now realize our position than when at work, and the criticalness of it struck and awed me like a revelation.

I cast my eyes upon the main-topsail, and inspected it anxiously, as on this sail our lives might depend. If it blew away the only sail remaining would be the fore-topmast staysail. In all probability the ship's head would at once pay off, let me keep the helm jammed down as hard as I pleased; the vessel would then drive before the seas, which, as she had not enough canvas on her to keep her running at any speed, would very soon topple over her stern, sweep the decks fore and aft, and render her unmanageable.

There was likewise the further danger of the fore-topmast going, the whole weight of the staysail being upon it. If this went it would take that sail with it, and the ship would round into the wind's eye and drive away astern.

Had there been more hands on board I should not have found these speculations so alarming. My first job would have been to get some of the cargo out of the hold and pitch it overboard, so as to lighten the ship, for the dead weight in her made her strain horribly. Then with men to help it would have been easy to get the storm trysail on if the topsail blew away, clap preventer backstays on to the foremast and fore-topmast, and rouse them taut with tackles, and send down the royal and top-gallant yards, so as to ease the masts of the immense leverage of these spars.

But what could four men do—one of the four being almost useless, and all four exhausted not by the perils and labour of the storm only, but by the fight they had had to make for their lives against fellow-beings?