Will Weatherhelm: The Yarn of an Old Sailor

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Chapter Nine.

Voyage in the smack—Gale springs up—Washed overboard—Saved on a spar—Dreadful fears for my wife’s safety—The kind-hearted fisherman—Find the smack—Account of her escape—Journey on land—Coach upset—Again preserved—Reach home—Old Jerry again—His adventure with the bears.

I was walking the deck one night, while my wife was below, and thinking of the events of my past life, when the recollection of my rash oath came across me like a thunder-clap in summer, when just before the whole sky overhead has appeared of the purest blue. “Is my dreadful fate still to pursue me?” I thought. “Rather than she should be torn from me, let me perish with her.” The weather was fine, the wind was light and fair, and there was not the slightest cause for any apprehension of danger. Had I been by myself, such an idea would not, I believe, have crossed my mind; but now that I had so precious a being under my charge, I was timid as a mother with her first-born child. At last I went below, and the night passed away in quietness. The next morning was bright and lovely as ever an early summer has had to exhibit, and I felt ashamed of my thoughts of the previous evening, as if I had been ungrateful for the blessings I had received, and mistrustful of God’s merciful providence. Still the ideas I had entertained came back again during the forenoon, and haunted me at times throughout the day. Had I been able to speak to my wife on the subject, I doubt not I should have relieved my mind; but I was afraid of frightening her and making her nervous, so I kept them to myself. As the evening drew on, dark clouds were seen banking up on the horizon. I watched them with an anxiety I had never before experienced at sea, for I had never before been on the ocean with a freight I prized so much. They continued rapidly to increase, and before night closed in had formed a thick canopy overhead, while dark heaving seas came rolling in towards us across the full width of the German Ocean, and the increasing breeze moaned and whistled in our rigging. The smack heeled over to the force of the wind till her lee-bulwarks were under water, but still the master was unwilling to shorten sail. We were on a lee shore, and he was anxious to haul off sufficiently to make his passage good for the Firth of Forth. We might even then have run back for the Moray Firth, where, as the wind was from the southward of east, we should have got under the lee of the land; but then we might have been detained there, very certainly for many days and perhaps for several weeks, so he resolved, at all hazards, to keep the sea. Under a close-reefed mainsail and storm-jib, the little vessel continued her course, looking bravely up to the increasing gale. Still, at times she plunged heavily into the seas, and it often seemed, as I stood on her deck, as if she would never rise again above them. I sat, while I could, by my wife in the cabin, to try and comfort and protect her; but I could not help rushing on deck every now and then to ascertain how matters were proceeding. The report, however, I had to give when I returned below was anything but encouraging. I had no idea of deceiving people, as some persons do, when danger is threatening. I am certain that the more a person can contemplate the possibility of danger, the better able they will be to encounter it when it comes, if they have employed the meantime in reflection and in considering the best means to meet it.

We were off the Scotch coast, somewhere between Stonehaven and Montrose, I fancy, when the gale came down upon us with greater force than ever, and the old master thought if he could get the try-sail on the vessel, as we had by this time gained a considerable offing, that he should be able to heave her to and weather it out till it blew over. As he was about to shift the sails the wind lulled a little, and once more he hoped that he should be able to hold on his course. He forgot that all this time, though he was certainly getting more to the southward, the vessel was also drifting nearer and nearer inshore. At last the gale, as if it had rested merely to gain strength, breezed up again with greater fury than ever. I was below at the time. “We must get the try-sail on her, my lads,” I heard the old man sing out. Securing my wife to a sofa in the cabin, I sprang on deck to lend a hand, for I knew that all the strength that could be obtained would be required, and that every moment of delay added to our danger. Many as were the gales I had been in, I had never beheld a more terrific-looking scene than that by which I now found myself surrounded. Vivid flashes of lightning every now and then revealed the dark wall-like waves which rose up with their crests of foam on every side around us, and threatened to engulf the little craft struggling helplessly among them. Still no one stopped a moment to think of all this—the work to be done was to get the mainsail off her and to set the try-sail. I thought at the time that we were much nearer inshore than the old master fancied. The try-sail was almost set, and we were hauling out the sheet, when I heard the old man sing out, “Hold on, my lads! hold on! Here comes a sea which will give her a shake.” On it came. I was to leeward. I felt myself torn from the rope to which I held, and my feet lifted off the deck. The wild waves surrounded me. There was a tumult in my ears. With horror and agony I discovered that the sea had carried me overboard. I shrieked out instinctively for help, though I knew that none could be afforded. In vain I struggled to regain the vessel.

My real condition presented itself with terrific clearness to my mind. For my own life I cared not, but I thought of my wife—of her agony and despair when she discovered that I was lost. I would have given worlds to have got once more on board that little sea-tossed bark. I was always a good swimmer. Even amid those tossing waves I found that I could keep my head above water. Still the unequal struggle could not have lasted long, when at the moment I was losing the dim outline of the little vessel in the darkness, I found myself thrown against some floating object. A hope that I might possibly preserve my life sprung up in my bosom. I grasped the object, and found that it was part of the mast and top of a large vessel. I clambered upon it and held fast while I recovered my breath. Though it was violently tossed about by the seas, which threatened every moment to sweep me off from it, still I held on. My first thought was to endeavour to discover how far off was the smack, on board which was all I prized in life. I could nowhere see her. I have heard of people’s hair turning white in a single night from grief—I felt that mine might have done so from the agony of mind I endured. Would the smack weather out the gale? or would my dear wife survive the shock when she discovered that I had been so suddenly torn from her? “I have often been punished, and justly, but this is the most severe punishment of all,” I thought to myself. A voice whispered in my ear, “Curse God, and die,”—the same voice which had whispered the same words into the ear of the Patriarch Job many ages ago, and has been whispering the like into the ears of thousands of human beings ever since. “Oh God, have mercy on me and support me!” I ejaculated, and the tempter fled from me.

Scarcely able to breathe from the dense masses of spray surrounding me, and from the waves which kept continually washing over me, I still clung on to the wreck. I fancied that the shattered mast was being floated onward. I do not remember now what reason I had for supposing so. It contributed, at all events, to keep up my hope of being ultimately rescued. How slowly and painfully the hours passed by! Often I thought that, from very exhaustion and cold, I must be swept from my hold. At length, as I was looking upwards at the sky to try and discover any break in the clouds which might afford me an indication that the gale was abating, I beheld the first faint streaks of dawn appearing in the eastward. The clouds seemed to lift like a thick curtain to let in the light of day. I looked round towards the land; I could distinguish its dim outline through the darkness which still hung over it. This convinced me that the mast must have drifted much nearer than when I first got hold of it. This fact, however, tended to increase my anxiety for the fate of the smack. What if she has been driven on the rocks, and, as would probably be the case, all on board have perished! “Oh, why, why was not I allowed to remain with my dear wife, to perish with her, or to be the means of saving her!” I exclaimed, in the agony of my spirit. The intensity of my feelings almost overcame me. As daylight increased, I saw that the summer gale had considerably lessened, and every minute the wind seemed to be going down. I could now clearly make out the shore, the yellow sands, with their fringe of dark rocks, over which the surf was breaking with almost unabated fury. “What chance of escaping with my life will there be, if I am drifted in among those wild rocks?” I thought to myself. Now there could be no doubt that I was drifting, and rapidly too, towards the shore. With an anxious, piercing gaze, I looked round to the southward to see if I could discover any signs of the smack, half dreading to find her driven in among the rocks, yet still praying and hoping that she might be riding safely at anchor behind some sheltering reef, or within some little harbour on the coast. Not a sign of her could I discover. I looked seaward. Two or three sails were seen, rising and falling in the offing, but too far off to allow me to hope that she could be one of them. On drove the mast; its course was altered, and it was evidently drifting along shore to the southward. I

judged that I was not more than three or four hundred fathoms from the breakers. I discovered that by climbing a little further on the mast, I could stand upright without its turning over with me. Finding this, I untied a silk handkerchief I had about my neck, and waved it around my head. I continued waving, hoping that some one would see my signal. I waited anxiously, looking along the shore. At so early an hour few people were out. At last the head of a man appeared above a sand-hill. I waved more vehemently, and shouted, forgetting that my voice could not be heard above the roar of the breakers. Soon I saw him standing on the top of the hill, and looking through a spy-glass at me, and then he waved his hand in return, and, pointing to the southward, ran on. Directly afterwards I saw two or three other people running in the same direction, carrying oars over their shoulders, and a boat-hook. I guessed that they were making for some little harbour or sandy cove, where their boats were drawn up. I prayed that they might come to my aid quickly, for every instant the wreck of the mast drove nearer and nearer to the rocks. Still I cannot say that I felt much doubt about being saved after having already been so mercifully preserved during the night from dangers so terrific. Yet it appeared an age before I saw a boat darting out from an opening in the rocks. Putting her head to the seas, she dashed up towards me. She had not come a minute too soon.

“Stand by, mon! stand by to leap aboard!” I heard a voice sing out, as the bow of the boat came up close to where I was hanging on.

I did not require a second order; at the same time, my limbs were so stiff and benumbed that I could scarcely have obeyed, had not two of the men in the bow of the boat caught me by the collar, and hauled me on board.