XVI
EAST, HALF SOUTH
On a day of high action in sea and sky we fled, hot-foot, before thefury of a nor'-west gale. We had run her overlong. Old Jock, for onceat any rate, had had his weather eye bedimmed. He was expecting aquick shift into the sou'-west, a moderate gale, and a chance to makehis 'easting' round Cape Horn, but the wind hung stubbornly in thenor'-west; there was no break in the sky, no cessation in the blackbursts of rain and sleet that swept upon us. A huge sea set up, and wewere past the time when we could, in safety, heave her to the wind.There was nothing for it but to run--run she did.
We had tops'ls and a reefed foresail on her while daylight lasted, buton threat of darkness we stowed all but the foretops'l; wings enoughfor the weight of a hurricane wind. Under that narrow band ofstraining canvas she sped on into the murk of advancing night, whilebehind the lurid western sky showed threat of a mightier blast in bankupon bank of ragged storm-cloud. It was a wild night, never a wilder!
In the darkness the uncanny green shimmer of breaking seas gave anadded terror to the scene of storm. Rain and stinging sleet sweptconstantly over us, thundering seas towered and curled at our stern,lapping viciously at the fleeting quarter, or, parting, crashed aboardat the waist, filling the decks man high with a power of destruction.Part of the bulwarks were torn from the side. That was, perhaps, thesaving of us, for the seas swept off as fast as they thundered aboard,and the barque rode buoyant, when, with bulwarks standing, the weightof compassed water would have held her at mercy of the next toweringgreybeard. A boat on the forward skids was smashed to atoms and thewreck swept overboard, and every moment we looked to see our crazyhalf-deck go tottering to ruin. The fo'ca'sle was awash through ashattered door, and all hands were gathered on the poop for such safetyas it held. There was nowhere else where man could stand on thereeling hull, and crouching at the rails, wet and chilled to themarrow, we spent the night a-watching.
The bo'sun and Martin and Hans took turns of the steering; that waswork beyond the rest of us, and the most we could do was to stand bya-lee and bear on the spokes with the helmsman. Dutchy was the beststeersman, and his steering was no truer than the stout heart of him.Once she pooped, and the crest of a huge following sea came crashing ontop of us. But for our hold-fasts, all would have been swept away.That was the time of trial. A falter at the helm--she would have'broached-to'--to utter destruction!
Amid the furious rush of broken water, 'Dutchy' stood fast at his post,though there was a gash on his forehead and blood running in hiseyes--the work of the wrenching wheel.
We showed no lights; no lamps would stand to the weather. There wasonly the flickering binnacle, tended as never was temple fire, to showthe compass card. By turns we kept a look-out from the tops'l yard,but of what use was that when we could steer but to one point. We werea ship of chance, and God help us and the outward-bounder, 'hove-to' inthe trough, that had come between us and the east that night!
How we looked for daylight! How it was long a-coming! How themountain seas raced up and hove our barque, reeling from the blow, fromtowering crest to hollow of the trough! How every day of thetwenty-five years of her cried out in creak of block, in clatter ofchain sheet, in the 'harping' of the backstays, the straining groan ofthe burdened masts!
From time to time through the night the Mate and some of us would goforward to see to the gear; there was no need to touch a brace, for thewind blew ominously true. When we got back again, battered andbreathless, it was something to know that the foretops'l still stoodthe strain. It was a famous sail, a web of '00 storm,' stitched andfortified at seam and roping for such a wind as this. Good luck to thehands that stitched it, to the dingy sail loft in the Govan Road thatturned it out, for it stood us in stead that night!
Once an ill-stowed clew of the mains'l blew out with a sounding crack,and thrashed a 'devil's tattoo' on the yard. We thought it the tops'lgone--but no! Macallison's best stood bravely spread to the shriekinggale, and we soon had the ribbons of the main clew fast to the yard.
There was no broad dawn, no glow in the east to mark its breaking; thelight grew out of the darkness. The masts and spars shaped themselvesout of the gloom, till they stood outlined against the dull greyclouds. We could see the great seas, white-streaked by lash of drivenspray, running up into the lowering sky. When day came, and theheaving, wind-swept face of the waters became plain to us, we saw thestormy path round the Horn in its wildest, grandest mood. Stretchingfar to the black murky curtain--the rear of the last shrieking rainsquall--the great Cape Horn greybeards swept on with terrific force andgrandeur, their mile-long crests hurtling skyward in blinding foam.The old barque ran well, reeling through the long, stormy slopes withbuoyant spring, driving wildly to the trough, smashing the foam faraside. At times she poised with sickening uncertitude on the crest ofa greater wave, then steadied, and leapt with the breaking water to thesmoother hollow.
The Old Man stood by the helmsman, 'conning' her on. All night he hadstood there, ordering, to the shock of following seas, a steady voicedcommand. Never a gainly man--short-legged, broad, uncouth--his was yeta figure in keeping with the scene; unkempt and haggard, blue-lipped,drenched by sea and rain, he was never less than a Master of the Sea.At daybreak we heard a hail from the tops'l yard, and saw the'look-out' pointing ahead. Peering down the wind, we made out the loomof a ship rising and falling in the trough of the sea. A big'four-master' she proved, lying 'hove-to' the wind. We shuddered tothink of what would have been if daylight had been further delayed!
Out of the mist and spray we bore down on her and flew by, close to herstern. We could see figures on her poop staring and pointing, a manwith glasses at his eyes. Only a fleeting glimpse--for she was soonswallowed up by the murk astern, and we were driving on. The shift ofwind came suddenly. Nearly at noon there was a heavier fall of rain, ashrieking squall that blew as it had never blown. The Old Man markedthe signs--the scud of the upper clouds, a brightening low down in thesouth.
"Stan' by ... head ... yards," he yelled, shouting hoarsely to beheard. "Quick ... the word!"
All hands struggled to the braces, battling through the wash of icywater that swept over the decks.
The squall passed, followed by a lull that served us to cant the yards;then, sharp as a knife-thrust, the wind came howling out of thesou'-west. The rain ceased and the sky cleared as by a miracle. Stillit blew and the seas, turned by the shift of wind, broke and shatteredin a whirl of confusion. For a time we laboured through thetreacherous cross sea--the barque fretting and turning to windward,calling for all of 'Dutchy's' cunning at the helm, but it was none soill with the sun in sight and a clearing overhead.
"Blast ye," said the Old Man, shaking his benumbed arms towards thesou'-west. "Blast ye--but ye've been a long time comin'!"
The wind was now to his liking, it was the weather he had looked for,and sure enough, as quick succeeding squalls rolled up on us, the seagrew less and ran truer, and the barque sailed easier. The wind fellto a moderate gale, and by four in the afternoon we had a reefedforesail and the tops'ls set, and were staggering along at a greatspeed.
The decks were yet awash, there was no comfort on deck or below; butthrough it all we had one consoling thought: _East, half south_, wewere covering the leagues that lay between us and our journey's end!
The Brassbounder: A Tale of the Sea Page 16