“Why, sir, Mr Hurry, do you see, to my mind, the wider berth we give the land the better,” he replied, giving his usual hitch to his trowsers. “There’s what they calls in these parts a whirlwind or old Harry Cane coming on, or my name is not Nol Grampus.”
I was too much afraid that Nol was right, and accordingly stood off the land under all sail, keeping a look-out, however, on the signs of the weather, so as to take in our canvas in time before the gale came on. I had not, notwithstanding this, made good much more than a league when it fell a dead calm. The sails flapped idly against the masts, and the little vessel rolled from side to side, moved by the long, slow, heaving undulations which rolled in from the offing.
“I’m not quite certain that you are right, Grampus, as to the coming whirlwind, but we will shorten sail, at all events,” I observed.
“Beg pardon, Mr Hurry, sir; but just do you follow an old seaman’s advice, and take all the canvas off her,” he answered with earnestness. “It’s doing her no good just now, and we haven’t another suit of sails if we lose them. When the wind does come, it is on one before a man has time to turn round and save the teeth being whisked out of his mouth. Come, my lads, be smart, and hand the canvas,” he added, calling to Rockets and the other men.
I was soon very glad that I was not above taking an old seaman’s advice. Scarcely ten minutes had passed, during which time the calm had been more profound than ever, when, as suddenly as Grampus had foretold, the whole ocean around us seemed covered with a sheet of seething foam, and the whirlwind, in all the majesty of its strength, struck the vessel, pressing her down till her bulwarks touched the water, and I thought she would have gone over altogether. I sprang to the helm and put it up, while Grampus hoisted the fore-staysail just a foot or so above the deck. Even then the canvas was nearly blown out of the bolt-ropes; so far she felt its power, however, and, her head spinning round as if she had been a straw, away we drove before the hurricane. Where were we driving to was the question. I anxiously consulted the chart. We were in that deep bay in the island of Saint Domingo, with Cape Donna Maria to the southward, and Cape Saint Nicholas to the north, and I saw that a slight variation in the course of the gale might hurl us on the coast, where the chance of our escaping with our lives would be small indeed. Happily the wind at present came out of the bay, or I believe my ill-found little schooner would have gone to the bottom, as did many a noble ship about that time. The sea, even as it was, soon became lashed into furious billows, which broke around us in masses of foam, which went flying away over the troubled surface of the ocean, covering us as would a heavy fall of snow. Grampus and I stood at the helm, keeping the little vessel as well as we could directly before the gale, but we tumbled about terrifically, and more than once I caught him casting anxious glances over his shoulder astern, as if he expected some of the seas, which came roaring up after us, to break over our decks.
“What do you think of it, Grampus?” said I.
“Why, Mr Hurry, sir, I don’t like the look of things,” he answered. “If one of them seas was to fall aboard of us, it would wash every soul of us off the deck, and maybe send the craft in a moment to the bottom. Still, I don’t see as how there is anything we can do more than we are doing. If the schooner was to spring a leak just now, and that’s not unlikely, we should be still worse off, so we may be content with things as they are.”
I admired Nol’s philosophy, though I kept an anxious look-out on the larboard bow, dreading every instant to catch a sight of the shore, past which I knew we should have a narrow shave, even should we be fortunate enough to escape being driven against it. The coolest man on board was Tom Rockets. He kept walking the deck with his hands in his pockets, ready enough, I saw, for action, but certainly not as if a fierce hurricane was raging around him. Now and then he had to pull out his hands to lay hold of the bulwarks as the craft gave a lively roll, or plunged down into the trough of a sea; but as soon as she grew comparatively steady, he began walking away as before.
On we drove. The dreaded coast did not appear. Still I could scarcely hope that we had passed it. The wind began to shift about at last. Grampus said that it was the termination of the hurricane. Still it might play us a scurvy trick before it was over, and drive us on some inhospitable shore. I began now to look for further signs of the ending of the storm. It got round to the northward, and on we drove till we caught sight of the coast. It was a most unwelcome sight, though, for should the little craft once get within the power of the breakers, which were dashing furiously against it, I could not hope that a single man on board would escape with his life. Even Tom Rockets began to think that the state of things was not so pleasant as it might be. I saw that he had taken his hands out of his pockets, and was holding on with the rest of the people. Away we drove—the threatening shore every minute growing more and more distinct.
“What prospect is there, think you, Grampus, of the hurricane coming to an end?” said I. For from want of anything else to be done I was obliged to keep my tongue going.