All hands work like fury, for a full Antarctic hurricane is on them.
This great South Polar storm has swept a thousand leagues, almost
unchecked, before venting its utmost rage against the iron coasts all
round the Horn. The South Shetlands have only served to rouse its
temper. Its seas have grown bigger with every mile from the Pole, and
wilder with every mile towards the Horn. Now they are so enormous that
even the truck of the tall Yankee clipper staggering along to {123}
leeward cannot be seen except when both ships are topping the crest.
Wherever you look there seems to be an endless earthquake of
mountainous waves, with spuming volcanoes of their own, and vast,
abysmal craters yawning from the depths. The _Victoria_ begins to
labour. The wind and water seem to be gaining on her every minute.
She groans in every part of her sorely racked hull; while up aloft the
hurricane roars, rings, and screeches through the rigging.
But suddenly there is a new and far more awful sound, which seems to
still all others, as a stupendous mother wave rears its huge, engulfing
bulk astern. On it comes, faster and higher, its cavernous hollow
roaring and its overtopping crest snarling viciously as it turns
forward, high above the poop. 'Hold on for your lives!' shout the
mates and skipper. They are not a moment too soon. The sails are
blanketed, and the ship seems as if she was actually being drawn, stern
first, into the very jaws of the sea. A shuddering pause . . . and
then, with a stunning crash, the whole devouring mass bursts full on
deck. The stricken _Victoria_ reels under the terrific shock, and then
lies dead another anxious minute, utterly helpless, her {124} deck
awash with a smother of foaming water, and her crew apparently drowned.
But presently her stern emerges through the dark, green-grey
after-shoulder of the wave. She responds to the lift of the mighty
barrel with a gallant effort to shake herself free. She rises,
dripping from stem to stern. Her sails refill and draw her on again.
And when the next wave comes she is just able to take it--but no more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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