“No fear,” answered the younger Captain, smiling, “the Thunderer is not likely to fear the fiercest hurricane that ever blew;” and he looked with all a true seaman’s pride on the noble ship, which floated so gallantly at the distance of a few hundred fathoms.
“At all events, take an old man’s counsel,” said Captain Penrose, stopping in his walk. “I would not be so rude as unnecessarily to urge you to leave my ship; but, my dear fellow, get on board as fast as you can, and make her ready to encounter whatever may occur. If the threatenings pass off, no harm is done. I must prepare the Terrible for a gale.”
Thus urged, the younger Captain could no longer decline to take the proffered advice, but calling his officers, their boats were manned, and they returned on board the Thunderer. In the meantime, everything that could be done was done to prepare the Terrible for a fierce contest with the elements. Royal and topgallant-yards were sent down—topmasts were struck, rolling tackles were made fast to all the lower yards, and all the guns, and everything below that could move, were secured. A thin mist pervaded the atmosphere; the heat grew excessive; both sky and sea became the colour of lead; and an oppressive gloom hung over the waste of waters. Still the wind did not stir, and even the swell appeared to be going down. Hour after hour passed away.
“Our skipper is a good officer, there’s no doubt about it,” observed some of the younger men as they walked the forecastle. “But he’s sometimes overmuch on the safe side, and if a moderate breeze were to spring up, and an enemy appear in sight, she’d slip away long before we could be in a fit state to go after her.”
“You are very wise, mate, I daresay,” said Abel Bush, who heard the remark. “But just suppose the Captain is right and you wrong, how should we look if the squall caught us with all our light sticks aloft and our canvas spread? Old Harry Cane, when you meet with him in these parts, is not a chap to be trifled with, let me tell you.”
The younger seaman might have replied, but the force of Abel’s argument was considerably strengthened by a loud roaring sound which broke on their ears. Far, too, as the eye could reach, the ocean appeared torn up into a vast mass of foam, which rolled on with fearful rapidity, preceded by still higher undulations than before, which made the ship roll, and pitch, and tumble about in a way most unusual and alarming. The officers, speaking trumpet in hand, were issuing the necessary orders to try and get the ship’s head away from the coming blast; but the little wind there yet was refused to fill the head sails, and only made them beat and flap against the masts.
“I told you so, mates,” said Abel Bush as he passed Ned Marline, the young seaman who had been criticising the Captain’s arrangements; “never do you fancy that you know better than your elders till you’ve had as much experience as they.”
Paul Pringle had been watching the Thunderer. He had served on board her; he had many old shipmates now belonging to her; and he naturally took a deep interest in all concerning her.
“She’s a fine old ship, that she is!” he exclaimed as he cast a last glance at the gallant seventy-four, before turning to attend to his duty.
She was then not a quarter of a mile to leeward. Now down came the fury of the hurricane; with a roar like that of a wild beast when it springs on its prey, the tempest struck the Terrible. The headsails, which alone were set, in an instant were blown from the boltropes, and flew like fleecy clouds far away down to leeward. The helm was put up, but the ship refused to answer it. The tempest struck her on the side. The stout masts bent and quivered in spite of all the shrouds and stays which supported them, and then over she heeled, till the yardarms touched the seething ocean. Fore and aft she was covered with a mass of foam, while the waters rushed exultantly into her ports, threatening to carry her instantly to the bottom. The crew hurried to secure the ports. Many poor fellows were carried off while making the attempt. In vain Captain Penrose and his officers exerted themselves to wear the ship. Like a helpless log she lay on the foaming ocean. While still hoping to avoid the last extreme resource of cutting away the masts, the carpenter appeared on the quarterdeck with an expression of consternation on his countenance.