A gale springs up—A dark night—Sound of breakers—Ship running on an iceberg—The “Ranger” scrapes along the berg—Providential escape—Ensign Holt’s alarm—The carpenter reports a leak—The chain-pumps rigged—the “Ranger” on her beam-ends—The masts cut away—Running before the gale—All hands at the pumps—The weather moderates—Prepare to rig jury-masts.
Once more a strong breeze had sprung up from the westward, and the ship was making good way through the water.
Though it was the summer time in the southern hemisphere, the weather was very variable; now, when the wind came from the antarctic pole, bitterly cold; or drawing round and blowing from the north, after it had passed over the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, it was soft and balmy.
It was Harry Shafto’s morning watch; he had just relieved the second-lieutenant. Willy was for’ard. It was blowing somewhat fresh, and the ship had a reef in her topsails and her courses set. The night was very dark. Willy having just been aroused from a midshipman’s sound sleep, was rubbing his eyes to get them clear. Now he peered out ahead into the darkness, now he rubbed them again, and shut and opened them, to satisfy himself that they were in good order. He could not distinguish who was on the forecastle, but he knew by the voice that one of the best men in the ship, Paul Lizard, was by his side.
“I have seen many a dark night, Mr Dicey, but this pretty well beats them all,” observed Paul. “It’s not one I should like to be caught in on a lee-shore or a strange coast; though out here, in the open sea, there is nothing to fear, as the highway is a pretty wide one, and we are not likely to fall in with any other craft crossing our course.”
“Very true,” answered Willy; “but there is one thing I have been told to do, and that is to keep a bright look-out, though it may be difficult enough to see an object; even should one be ahead.”
“On course, sir,” said Paul, “what is our duty must be done, though it would be a hard matter to see the ‘David Dunn’ of Dover, even if our jibboom were over her taffrail.”
“What ship is that?” asked Willy. “I never heard of her.”
“The biggest ship that ever was or ever will be, sir,” answered Paul, who was fond of a joke. “When she went about going up Channel once, her spanker pretty nigh swept away one of the towers of Calais, while her jibboom run right into Dover Castle.”
“She must have been a big ship, then,” said Willy.