My Danish Sweetheart: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3Russell, William Clark
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My Danish Sweetheart: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3
Russell, William Clark
Adventure stories; Fiction; Love stories; Sea stories
I was in the act of running along the deck to where the lad stood--that
is to say, a little forward of the gangway, not doubting that the others
of my crew whom I had called upon were following with as much alertness
as I had exhibited, when I felt a shock as of a thump pass through the
barque.
'She has struck!' thought I.
But hardly was I sensible of this tremor through the vessel, when there
arose a wild and dreadful cry from alongside--heavenly God! how am I to
describe that shocking noise of human distress? I fled to the rail and
looked over; it was all boiling water under me, with just a sight of the
black line of the gunwale or of the keel of the lifeboat; but there was
such a raging of foam, such a thickness of seething yeast smoking into
the hurricane as though some volcanic eruption had happened right under
the barque, filling the air with steam, that there was nothing whatever
to be seen saving just that dark glance of keel or gunwale, as I have
said, which, however, vanished as I looked in the depth of the hissing
spumy smother. I knew by this that the lifeboat must have been staved
and filled by a sudden fling of her against the massive sides of the
barque; for she was a self-righting craft, and, though she might have
thrown every soul in her out as she rolled over, yet she would have rose
buoyant again, emptying herself as she leapt to the surge, and there she
would have been alongside, without a living creature in her if you will,
but a good boat, and riding stoutly to her cable. But she had been
stove, and now she was gone!
The blazing tar-barrel on the main-deck enabled me to see my way to rush
aft. I cried to the lad as I sped: 'The boat is staved; all hands of her
are overboard and drowning! Heave ropes' ends over the side! fling
life-buoys!' And thus shouting, scarcely knowing, indeed, what I called
out, so confounded was I, so shocked, so horrified, so heartbroken, I
may say, by the suddenness and the fearfulness of this disaster, I
reached the quarter of the barque and overhung it; but I could see
nothing. The cloudy boiling rose and fell, and with every mighty drop of
the great square counter of the barque, the sea swept in a roar from
either hand of her with a cataractal fury that would rush whatever was
afloat in it dozens of fathoms distant at every _scend_. Here and there
_now_ I believe I could distinguish some small black object, but the
nearer pallid waters dimmed into a blackness at a little distance, and,
if those dark points which I observed were the heads of swimmers, then
such was the headlong race of the surge they were swept into the
throbbing dusk ere I could make sure of them.
I stood as one paralyzed from head to foot. My inability to be of the
least service to my poor comrades and the unhappy Danes caused me to
feel as though the very heart in me had ceased to beat. The young fellow
came to my side.
'What is to be done?' he cried.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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