SAILING ALONE AROUND THE WORLD (complete 2+2) (2/3)
From
Captain Joshua Slocum@21:1/5 to
All on Fri Jan 25 06:01:20 2019
[continued from previous message]
my confidence on the voyage.
About midnight the fog shut down again denser than ever before. One
could almost "stand on it." It continued so for a number of days,
the wind increasing to a gale. The waves rose high, but I had a
good ship. Still, in the dismal fog I felt myself drifting into
loneliness, an insect on a straw in the midst of the elements. I
lashed the helm, and my vessel held her course, and while she
sailed I slept.
During these days a feeling of awe crept over me. My memory worked
with startling power. The ominous, the insignificant, the great,
the small, the wonderful, the commonplace - all appeared before my
mental vision in magical succession. Pages of my history were
recalled which had been so long forgotten that they seemed to
belong to a previous existence. I heard all the voices of the past
laughing, crying, telling what I had heard them tell in many
corners of the earth.
The loneliness of my state wore off when the gale was high and I
found much work to do. When fine weather returned, then came the
sense of solitude, which I could not shake off. I used my voice
often, at first giving some order about the affairs of a ship, for
I had been told that from disuse I should lose my speech. At the
meridian altitude of the sun I called aloud, "Eight bells," after
the custom on a ship at sea. Again from my cabin I cried to an
imaginary man at the helm, "How does she head, there?" and again,
"Is she on her course?" But getting no reply, I was reminded the
more palpably of my condition. My voice sounded hollow on the empty
air, and I dropped the practice. However, it was not long before
the thought came to me that when I was a lad I used to sing; why
not try that now, where it would disturb no one? My musical talent
had never bred envy in others, but out on the Atlantic, to realize
what it meant, you should have heard me sing. You should have seen
the porpoises leap when I pitched my voice for the waves and the
sea and all that was in it. Old turtles, with large eyes, poked
their heads up out of the sea as I sang "Johnny Boker," and "We'll
Pay Darby Doyl for his Boots," and the like. But the porpoises
were, on the whole, vastly more appreciative than the turtles; they
jumped a deal higher. One day when I was humming a favorite chant,
I think it was "Babylon's a-Fallin'," a porpoise jumped higher than
the bowsprit. Had the Spray been going a little faster she would
have scooped him in. The sea-birds sailed around rather shy.
July 10, eight days at sea, the Spray was twelve hundred miles east
of Cape Sable. One hundred and fifty miles a day for so small a
vessel must be considered good sailing. It was the greatest run the
Spray ever made before or since in so few days. On the evening of
July 14, in better humor than ever before, all hands cried, "Sail
ho!" The sail was a barkantine, three points on the weather bow,
hull down. Then came the night. My ship was sailing along now
without attention to the helm. The wind was south; she was heading
east. Her sails were trimmed like the sails of the nautilus. They
drew steadily all night. I went frequently on deck, but found all
well. A merry breeze kept on from the south. Early in the morning
of the 15th the Spray was close aboard the stranger, which proved
to be La Vaguisa of Vigo, twenty-three days from Philadelphia,
bound for Vigo. A lookout from his masthead had spied the Spray the
evening before. The captain, when I came near enough, threw a line
to me and sent a bottle of wine across slung by the neck, and very
good wine it was. He also sent his card, which bore the name of
Juan Gantes. I think he was a good man, as Spaniards go. But when I
asked him to report me "all well" (the Spray passing him in a
lively manner), he hauled his shoulders much above his head; and
when his mate, who knew of my expedition, told him that I was
alone, he crossed himself and made for his cabin. I did not see him
again. By sundown he was as far astern as he had been ahead the
evening before.
There was now less and less monotony. On July 16 the wind was
northwest and clear, the sea smooth, and a large bark, hull down,
came in sight on the lee bow, and at 2:30 P.M. I spoke the
stranger. She was the bark Java of Glasgow, from Peru for
Queenstown for orders. Her old captain was bearish, but I met a
bear once in Alaska that looked pleasanter. At least, the bear
seemed pleased to meet me, but this grizzly old man! Well, I
suppose my hail disturbed his siesta, and my little sloop passing
his great ship had somewhat the effect on him that a red rag has
upon a bull. I had the advantage over heavy ships, by long odds, in
the light winds of this and the two previous days. The wind was
light; his ship was heavy and foul, making poor headway, while the
Spray , with a great mainsail bellying even to light winds, was
just skipping along as nimbly as one could wish. "How long has it
been calm about here?" roared the captain of the Java , as I came
within hail of him. "Dunno, cap'n," I shouted back as loud as I
could bawl. "I haven't been here long." At this the mate on the
forecastle wore a broad grin. "I left Cape Sable fourteen days
ago," I added. (I was now well across toward the Azores.) "Mate,"
he roared to his chief officer - "mate, come here and listen to the
Yankee's yarn. Haul down the flag, mate, haul down the flag!" In
the best of humor, after all, the Java surrendered to the Spray .
The acute pain of solitude experienced at first never returned. I
had penetrated a mystery, and, by the way, I had sailed through a
fog. I had met Neptune in his wrath, but he found that I had not
treated him with contempt, and so he suffered me to go on and
explore.
In the log for July 18 there is this entry: "Fine weather, wind south-southwest. Porpoises gamboling all about. The S.S. Olympia
passed at 11:30 A.M., long. W. 34 degrees 50'."
"It lacks now three minutes of the half-hour," shouted the captain,
as he gave me the longitude and the time. I admired the
businesslike air of the Olympia ; but I have the feeling still that
the captain was just a little too precise in his reckoning. That
may be all well enough, however, where there is plenty of sea-room.
But over-confidence, I believe, was the cause of the disaster to
the liner Atlantic , and many more like her. The captain knew too
well where he was. There were no porpoises at all skipping along
with the Olympia ! Porpoises always prefer sailing-ships. The
captain was a young man, I observed, and had before him, I hope, a
good record.
Land ho! On the morning of July 19 a mystic dome like a mountain of
silver stood alone in the sea ahead. Although the land was
completely hidden by the white, glistening haze that shone in the
sun like polished silver, I felt quite sure that it was Flores
Island. At half-past four P.M. it was abeam. The haze in the
meantime had disappeared. Flores is one hundred and seventy-four
miles from Fayal, and although it is a high island, it remained
many years undiscovered after the principal group of the islands
had been colonized.
Early on the morning of July 20 I saw Pico looming above the clouds
on the starboard bow. Lower lands burst forth as the sun burned
away the morning fog, and island after island came into view. As I
approached nearer, cultivated fields appeared, "and oh, how green
the corn!" Only those who have seen the Azores from the deck of a
vessel realize the beauty of the mid-ocean picture.
At 4:30 P.M. I cast anchor at Fayal, exactly eighteen days from
Cape Sable. The American consul, in a smart boat, came alongside
before the Spray reached the breakwater, and a young naval officer,
who feared for the safety of my vessel, boarded, and offered his
services as pilot. The youngster, I have no good reason to doubt,
could have handled a man-of-war, but the Spray was too small for
the amount of uniform he wore. I could never make out. But I
forgive him.
It was the season for fruit when I arrived at the Azores, and there
was soon more of all kinds of it put on board than I knew what to
do with. Islanders are always the kindest people in the world, and
I met none anywhere kinder than the good hearts of this place. The
people of the Azores are not a very rich community. The burden of
taxes is heavy, with scant privileges in return, the air they
breathe being about the only thing that is not taxed. The mother-
country does not even allow them a port of entry for a foreign mail
service. A packet passing never so close with mails for Horta must
deliver them first in Lisbon, ostensibly to be fumigated, but
really for the tariff from the packet. My own letters posted at
Horta reached the United States six days behind my letter from
Gibraltar, mailed thirteen days later.
The day after my arrival at Horta was the feast of a great saint.
Boats loaded with people came from other islands to celebrate at
Horta, the capital, or Jerusalem, of the Azores. The deck of the
Spray was crowded from morning till night with men, women, and
children. On the day after the feast a kind-hearted native
harnessed a team and drove me a day over the beautiful roads all
about Fayal, "because," said he, in broken English, "when I was in
America and couldn't speak a word of English, I found it hard till
I met some one who seemed to have time to listen to my story, and I
promised my good saint then that if ever a stranger came to my
country I would try to make him happy." Unfortunately, this
gentleman brought along an interpreter, that I might "learn more of
the country." The fellow was nearly the death of me, talking of
ships and voyages, and of the boats he had steered, the last thing
in the world I wished to hear. He had sailed out of New Bedford, so
he said, for "that Joe Wing they call 'John.'" My friend and host
found hardly a chance to edge in a word. Before we parted my host
dined me with a cheer that would have gladdened the heart of a
prince, but he was quite alone in his house. "My wife and children
all rest there," said he, pointing to the churchyard across the
way. "I moved to this house from far off," he added, "to be near
the spot, where I pray every morning."
I remained four days at Fayal, and that was two days more than I
had intended to stay. It was the kindness of the islanders and
their touching simplicity which detained me. A damsel, as innocent
as an angel, came alongside one day, and said she would embark on
the Spray if I would land her at Lisbon. She could cook flying-
fish, she thought, but her forte was dressing bacalhao . Her
brother Antonio, who served as interpreter, hinted that, anyhow, he
would like to make the trip. Antonio's heart went out to one John
Wilson, and he was ready to sail for America by way of the two
capes to meet his friend. "Do you know John Wilson of Boston?" he
cried. "I knew a John Wilson," I said, "but not of Boston." "He had
one daughter and one son," said Antonio, by way of identifying his
friend. If this reaches the right John Wilson, I am told to say
that "Antonio of Pico remembers him."
CHAPTER IV
Squally weather in the Azores - High living - Delirious from cheese
and plums - The pilot of the Pinta - At Gibraltar - Compliments
exchanged with the British navy - A picnic on the Morocco shore.
I set sail from Horta early on July 24. The southwest wind at the
time was light, but squalls came up with the sun, and I was glad
enough to get reefs in my sails before I had gone a mile. I had
hardly set the mainsail, double-reefed, when a squall of wind down
the mountains struck the sloop with such violence that I thought
her mast would go. However, a quick helm brought her to the wind.
As it was, one of the weather lanyards was carried away and the
other was stranded. My tin basin, caught up by the wind, went
flying across a French school-ship to leeward. It was more or less
squally all day, sailing along under high land; but rounding close
under a bluff, I found an opportunity to mend the lanyards broken
in the squall. No sooner had I lowered my sails when a four-oared
boat shot out from some gully in the rocks, with a customs officer
on board, who thought he had come upon a smuggler. I had some
difficulty in making him comprehend the true case. However, one of
his crew, a sailorly chap, who understood how matters were, while
we palavered jumped on board and rove off the new lanyards I had
already prepared, and with a friendly hand helped me "set up the
rigging." This incident gave the turn in my favor. My story was
then clear to all. I have found this the way of the world. Let one
be without a friend, and see what will happen!
Passing the island of Pico, after the rigging was mended, the Spray
stretched across to leeward of the island of St. Michael's, which
she was up with early on the morning of July 26, the wind blowing
hard. Later in the day she passed the Prince of Monaco's fine steam-
yacht bound to Fayal, where, on a previous voyage, the prince had
slipped his cables to "escape a reception" which the padres of the
island wished to give him. Why he so dreaded the "ovation" I could
not make out. At Horta they did not know. Since reaching the
islands I had lived most luxuriously on fresh bread, butter,
vegetables, and fruits of all kinds. Plums seemed the most
plentiful on the Spray , and these I ate without stint. I had also
a Pico white cheese that General Manning, the American consul-
general, had given me, which I supposed was to be eaten, and of
this I partook with the plums. Alas! by night-time I was doubled up
with cramps. The wind, which was already a smart breeze, was
increasing somewhat, with a heavy sky to the sou'west.
Reefs had been turned out, and I must turn them in again somehow.
Between cramps I got the mainsail down, hauled out the earings as
best I could, and tied away point by point, in the double reef.
There being sea-room, I should, in strict prudence, have made all
snug and gone down at once to my cabin. I am a careful man at sea,
but this night, in the coming storm, I swayed up my sails, which,
reefed though they were, were still too much in such heavy weather;
and I saw to it that the sheets were securely belayed. In a word, I
should have laid to, but did not. I gave her the double-reefed
mainsail and whole jib instead, and set her on her course. Then I
went below, and threw myself upon the cabin floor in great pain.
How long I lay there I could not tell, for I became delirious. When
I came to, as I thought, from my swoon, I realized that the sloop
was plunging into a heavy sea, and looking out of the companionway,
to my amazement I saw a tall man at the helm. His rigid hand,
grasping the spokes of the wheel, held them as in a vise. One may
imagine my astonishment. His rig was that of a foreign sailor, and
the large red cap he wore was cockbilled over his left ear, and all
was set off with shaggy black whiskers. He would have been taken
for a pirate in any part of the world. While I gazed upon his
threatening aspect I forgot the storm, and wondered if he had come
to cut my throat. This he seemed to divine. "Senor," said he,
doffing his cap,
"I have come to do you no harm." And a smile, the faintest in the
world, but still a smile, played on his face, which seemed not
unkind when he spoke. "I have come to do you no harm. I have sailed
free," he said, "but was never worse than a contrabandista . I am
one of Columbus's crew," he continued. "I am the pilot of the Pinta
come to aid you. Lie quiet, senor captain," he added, "and I will
guide your ship to-night. You have a calentura , but you will be
all right tomorrow." I thought what a very devil he was to carry
sail. Again, as if he read my mind, he exclaimed: "Yonder is the
Pinta ahead; we must overtake her. Give her sail; give her sail!
Vale, vale, muy vale! " Biting off a large quid of black twist, he
said: "You did wrong, captain, to mix cheese with plums. White
cheese is never safe unless you know whence it comes. Quien sabe ,
it may have been from leche de Capra and becoming capricious - "
"Avast, there!" I cried. "I have no mind for moralizing."
I made shift to spread a mattress and lie on that instead of the
hard floor, my eyes all the while fastened on my strange guest,
who, remarking again that I would have "only pains and calentura,"
chuckled as he chanted a wild song:
High are the waves, fierce, gleaming, High is the tempest roar!
High the sea-bird screaming! High the Azore!
I suppose I was now on the mend, for I was peevish, and complained:
"I detest your jingle. Your Azore should be at roost, and would
have been were it a respectable bird!" I begged he would tie a rope-
yarn on the rest of the song, if there was any more of it. I was
still in agony. Great seas were boarding the Spray , but in my
fevered brain I thought they were boats falling on deck, that
careless draymen were throwing from wagons on the pier to which I
imagined the Spray was now moored, and without fenders to breast
her off. "You'll smash your boats!" I called out again and again,
as the seas crashed on the cabin over my head. "You'll smash your
boats, but you can't hurt the Spray . She is strong!" I cried.
I found, when my pains and calentura had gone, that the deck, now
as white as a shark's tooth from seas washing over it, had been
swept of everything movable. To my astonishment, I saw now at broad
day that the Spray was still heading as I had left her, and was
going like a racehorse. Columbus himself could not have held her
more exactly on her course. The sloop had made ninety miles in the
night through a rough sea. I felt grateful to the old pilot, but I
marveled some that he had not taken in the jib. The gale was
moderating, and by noon the sun was shining. A meridian altitude
and the distance on the patent log, which I always kept towing,
told me that she had made a true course throughout the twenty-four
hours. I was getting much better now, but was very weak, and did
not turn out reefs that day or the night following, although the
wind fell light; but I just put my wet clothes out in the sun when
it was shining, and lying down there myself, fell asleep. "You did
well last night to take my advice," said he, "and if you would, I
should like to be with you often on the voyage, for the love of
adventure alone." Finishing what he had to say, he again doffed his
cap and disappeared as mysteriously as he came, returning, I
suppose, to the phantom Pinta . I awoke much refreshed, and with
the feeling that I had been in the presence of a friend and a
seaman of vast experience. I gathered up my clothes, which by this
time were dry, then, by inspiration, I threw overboard all the
plums in the vessel.
July 28 was exceptionally fine. The wind from the northwest was
light and the air balmy. I overhauled my wardrobe, and bent on a
white shirt against nearing some coasting-packet with genteel folk
on board. I also did some washing to get the salt out of my
clothes. After it all I was hungry, so I made a fire and very
cautiously stewed a dish of pears and set them carefully aside till
I had made a pot of delicious coffee, for both of which I could
afford sugar and cream. But the crowning dish of all was a fish-
hash, and there was enough of it for two. I was in good health
again, and my appetite was simply ravenous. While I was dining I
had a large onion over the double lamp stewing for a luncheon later
in the day. High living to-day!
In the afternoon the Spray came upon a large turtle asleep on the
sea. He awoke with my harpoon through his neck, if he awoke at all.
I had much difficulty in landing him on deck, which I finally
accomplished by hooking the throat-halyards to one of his flippers,
for he was about as heavy as my boat. I saw more turtles, and I
rigged a burton ready with which to hoist them in; for I was
obliged to lower the mainsail whenever the halyards were used for
such purposes, and it was no small matter to hoist the large sail
again. But the turtle-steak was good. I found no fault with the
cook, and it was the rule of the voyage that the cook found no
fault with me. There was never a ship's crew so well agreed. The
bill of fare that evening was turtle-steak, tea and toast, fried
potatoes, stewed onions; with dessert of stewed pears and cream.
Sometime in the afternoon I passed a barrel-buoy adrift, floating
light on the water. It was painted red, and rigged with a signal-
staff about six feet high. A sudden change in the weather coming
on, I got no more turtle or fish of any sort before reaching port.
July 31 a gale sprang up suddenly from the north, with heavy seas,
and I shortened sail. The Spray made only fifty-one miles on her
course that day. August 1 the gale continued, with heavy seas.
Through the night the sloop was reaching, under close-reefed
mainsail and bobbed jib. At 3 P.M. the jib was washed off the
bowsprit and blown to rags and ribbons. I bent the "jumbo" on a
stay at the night-heads. As for the jib, let it go; I saved pieces
of it, and, after all, I was in want of pot-rags.
On August 3 the gale broke, and I saw many signs of land. Bad
weather having made itself felt in the galley, I was minded to try
my hand at a loaf of bread, and so rigging a pot of fire on deck by
which to bake it, a loaf soon became an accomplished fact. One
great feature about ship's cooking is that one's appetite on the
sea is always good - a fact that I realized when I cooked for the
crew of fishermen in the before-mentioned boyhood days. Dinner
being over, I sat for hours reading the life of Columbus, and as
the day wore on I watched the birds all flying in one direction,
and said, "Land lies there."
Early the next morning, August 4, I discovered Spain. I saw fires
on shore, and knew that the country was inhabited. The Spray
continued on her course till well in with the land, which was that
about Trafalgar. Then keeping away a point, she passed through the
Strait of Gibraltar, where she cast anchor at 3 P. M. of the same
day, less than twenty-nine days from Cape Sable. At the finish of
this preliminary trip I found myself in excellent health, not
overworked or cramped, but as well as ever in my life, though I was
as thin as a reef-point.
Two Italian barks, which had been close alongside at daylight, I
saw long after I had anchored, passing up the African side of the
strait. The Spray had sailed them both hull down before she reached
Tarifa. So far as I know, the Spray beat everything going across
the Atlantic except the steamers.
All was well, but I had forgotten to bring a bill of health from
Horta, and so when the fierce old port doctor came to inspect there
was a row. That, however, was the very thing needed. If you want to
get on well with a true Britisher you must first have a deuce of a
row with him. I knew that well enough, and so I fired away, shot
for shot, as best I could. "Well, yes," the doctor admitted at
last, "your crew are healthy enough, no doubt, but who knows the
diseases of your last port?" - a reasonable enough remark. "We
ought to put you in the fort, sir!" he blustered; "but never mind.
Free pratique, sir! Shove off, cockswain!" And that was the last I
saw of the port doctor.
But on the following morning a steam-launch, much longer than the
Spray , came alongside, - or as much of her as could get alongside,
- with compliments from the senior naval officer, Admiral Bruce,
saying there was a berth for the Spray at the arsenal. This was
around at the new mole. I had anchored at the old mole, among the
native craft, where it was rough and uncomfortable. Of course I was
glad to shift, and did so as soon as possible, thinking of the
great company the Spray would be in among battle-ships such as the
Collingwood , Balfleur , and Cormorant , which were at that time
stationed there, and on board all of which I was entertained,
later, most royally.
"'Put it thar!' as the Americans say," was the salute I got from
Admiral Bruce, when I called at the admiralty to thank him for his
courtesy of the berth, and for the use of the steam-launch which
towed me into dock. "About the berth, it is all right if it suits,
and we'll tow you out when you are ready to go. But, say, what
repairs do you want? Ahoy the Hebe , can you spare your sailmaker?
The Spray wants a new jib. Construction and repair, there! will you
see to the Spray ?
Later in the day came the hail: " Spray ahoy! Mrs. Bruce would like
to come on board and shake hands with the Spray . Will it be
convenient to-day!" "Very!" I joyfully shouted.
On the following day Sir F. Carrington, at the time governor of
Gibraltar, with other high officers of the garrison, and all the
commanders of the battle-ships, came on board and signed their
names in the Spray's log-book. Again there was a hail, " Spray
ahoy!" "Hello!" "Commander Reynolds's compliments. You are invited
on board H.M.S. Collingwood , 'at home' at 4:30 P.M. Not later than
5:30 P.M." I had already hinted at the limited amount of my
wardrobe, and that I could never succeed as a dude. "You are
expected, sir, in a stovepipe hat and a claw-hammer coat!" "Then I
can't come." "Dash it! come in what you have on; that is what we
mean." "Aye, aye, sir!" The Collingwood's cheer was good, and had I
worn a silk hat as high as the moon I could not have had a better
time or been made more at home. An Englishman, even on his great
battle-ship, unbends when the stranger passes his gangway, and when
he says "at home" he means it.
That one should like Gibraltar would go without saying. How could
one help loving so hospitable a place? Vegetables twice a week and
milk every morning came from the palatial grounds of the admiralty.
" Spray ahoy!" would hail the admiral. " Spray ahoy!" "Hello!" "To-
morrow is your vegetable day, sir." "Aye, aye, sir!"
I rambled much about the old city, and a gunner piloted me through
the galleries of the rock as far as a stranger is permitted to go.
There is no excavation in the world, for military purposes, at all
approaching these of Gibraltar in conception or execution. Viewing
the stupendous works, it became hard to realize that one was within
the Gibraltar of his little old Morse geography.
Before sailing I was invited on a picnic with the governor, the
officers of the garrison, and the commanders of the war-ships at
the station; and a royal affair it was. Torpedo-boat No. 91, going
twenty-two knots, carried our party to the Morocco shore and back.
The day was perfect - too fine, in fact, for comfort on shore, and
so no one landed at Morocco. No. 91 trembled like an aspen-leaf as
she raced through the sea at top speed. Sublieutenant Boucher,
apparently a mere lad, was in command, and handled his ship with
the skill of an older sailor. On the following day I lunched with
General Carrington, the governor, at Line Wall House, which was
once the Franciscan convent. In this interesting edifice are
preserved relics of the fourteen sieges which Gibraltar has seen.
The vast amount of business going forward caused no more excitement
than the quiet sailing of a well-appointed ship in a smooth sea. No
one spoke above his natural voice, save a boatswain's mate now and
then. The Hon. Horatio J. Sprague, the venerable United States
consul at Gibraltar, honored the Spray with a visit on Sunday,
August 24, and was much pleased to find that our British cousins
had been so kind to her.
CHAPTER V
Sailing from Gibraltar with the assistance of her Majesty's tug -
The Spray's course changed from the Suez Canal to Cape Horn -
Chased by a Moorish pirate - A comparison with Columbus - The
Canary Islands-The Cape Verde Islands - Sea life - Arrival at
Pernambuco - A bill against the Brazilian government - Preparing
for the stormy weather of the cape.
Monday, August 25, the Spray sailed from Gibraltar, well repaid for
whatever deviation she had made from a direct course to reach the
place. A tug belonging to her Majesty towed the sloop into the
steady breeze clear of the mount, where her sails caught a volant
wind, which carried her once more to the Atlantic, where it rose
rapidly to a furious gale. My plan was, in going down this coast,
to haul offshore, well clear of the land, which hereabouts is the
home of pirates; but I had hardly accomplished this when I
perceived a felucca making out of the nearest port, and finally
following in the wake of the Spray . Now, my course to Gibraltar
had been taken with a view to proceed up the Mediterranean Sea,
through the Suez Canal, down the Red Sea, and east about, instead
of a western route, which I finally adopted. By officers of vast
experience in navigating these seas, I was influenced to make the
change. Longshore pirates on both coasts being numerous, I could
not afford to make light of the advice. But here I was, after all,
evidently in the midst of pirates and thieves! I changed my course;
the felucca did the same, both vessels sailing very fast, but the
distance growing less and less between us. The Spray was doing
nobly; she was even more than at her best; but, in spite of all I
could do, she would broach now and then. She was carrying too much
sail for safety. I must reef or be dismasted and lose all, pirate
or no pirate. I must reef, even if I had to grapple with him for my
life.
I was not long in reefing the mainsail and sweating it up -
probably not more than fifteen minutes; but the felucca had in the
meantime so shortened the distance between us that I now saw the
tuft of hair on the heads of the crew, - by which, it is said,
Mohammed will pull the villains up into heaven, - and they were
coming on like the wind. From what I could clearly make out now, I
felt them to be the sons of generations of pirates, and I saw by
their movements that they were now preparing to strike a blow. The
exultation on their faces, however, was changed in an instant to a
look of fear and rage. Their craft, with too much sail on, broached
to on the crest of a great wave. This one great sea changed the
aspect of affairs suddenly as the flash of a gun. Three minutes
later the same wave overtook the Spray and shook her in every
timber. At the same moment the sheet-strop parted, and away went
the main-boom, broken short at the rigging. Impulsively I sprang to
the jib-halyards and down-haul, and instantly downed the jib. The
head-sail being off, and the helm put hard down, the sloop came in
the wind with a bound. While shivering there, but a moment though
it was, I got the mainsail down and secured inboard, broken boom
and all. How I got the boom in before the sail was torn I hardly
know; but not a stitch of it was broken. The mainsail being
secured, I hoisted away the jib, and, without looking round,
stepped quickly to the cabin and snatched down my loaded rifle and
cartridges at hand; for I made mental calculations that the pirate
would by this time have recovered his course and be close aboard,
and that when I saw him it would be better for me to be looking at
him along the barrel of a gun. The piece was at my shoulder when I
peered into the mist, but there was no pirate within a mile. The
wave and squall that carried away my boom dismasted the felucca
outright. I perceived his thieving crew, some dozen or more of
them, struggling to recover their rigging from the sea. Allah
blacken their faces!
I sailed comfortably on under the jib and forestaysail, which I now
set. I fished the boom and furled the sail snug for the night; then
hauled the sloop's head two points offshore to allow for the set of
current and heavy rollers toward the land. This gave me the wind
three points on the starboard quarter and a steady pull in the
headsails. By the time I had things in this order it was dark, and
a flying-fish had already fallen on deck. I took him below for my
supper, but found myself too tired to cook, or even to eat a thing
already prepared. I do not remember to have been more tired before
or since in all my life than I was at the finish of that day. Too
fatigued to sleep, I rolled about with the motion of the vessel
[continued in next message]
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