A Middy of the King: A Romance of the Old British NavyCollingwood, Harry
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A Middy of the King: A Romance of the Old British Navy
Collingwood, Harry
Great Britain -- Fiction; Pirates -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
Now that the wind had moderated from hurricane force to that of a heavy
gale, the sea rose with really startling rapidity, and was already
running so high that when we came to set about the task of cutting
adrift the wreckage of the foremast, with the idea of hauling it
alongside and utilising it in the construction of a raft, it at once
became evident that the time for undertaking such a piece of work was
already past; for even alongside the schooner, and partially under her
lee, the wreckage would be swept so violently by the breaking seas that
it would be impossible for men to go over the side and work upon it
without being washed off and drowned; we were, therefore, compelled to
abandon that part of our plan and turn our attention to the construction
of a raft on deck which would float clear when the battered hull sank
from under our feet. But alas I even that was not to be; for we had
scarcely got the wreckage of the mainmast cut adrift from its lashings,
and were busily engaged in arranging it, with the topmast and the
mainboom, in the form of a triangle as a base upon which to construct a
platform, when it happened that the schooner, having just surmounted a
sea, got pinned down by the head, in consequence of all the water in her
rushing forward as she settled down, stem-on, into the succeeding
trough. At this critical moment a yell of dismay from the carpenter
caused us all to look up from our work, and we beheld him, with his eyes
almost starting from their sockets, glaring and pointing ahead. A
single glance in that direction sufficed to account for his terror. For
there, sweeping down upon us with deadly implacability, towered a
perfect mountain of a sea, its front almost as steep as the side of a
house, and its foaming, hissing crest reared threateningly aloft as high
as our lower-mastheads--had they been standing. It was at once apparent
to us all that, pinned down as the schooner was at that moment, by the
bulk of the water in her interior having concentrated itself in the fore
part of her, she could not possibly lift in time to rise over the summit
of that on-sweeping sea, it must inevitably break on board her, sweep
her from stem to stern, and send her to the bottom! For a second we all
stood, petrified with consternation; then, with a yell of "Hold on
everybody for your lives!" I dashed to the companion opening and
shouted to those below, "On deck, all hands of you; up you come, men,
this instant; you have not a second to lose!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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