My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 1 (of 3)Russell, William Clark
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My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 1 (of 3)
Russell, William Clark
Sea stories; Shipwrecks -- Fiction
There had been but little in the thunder of the storm, which still
showed livid over the eastern horizon, that surpassed the wild and
prodigious roaring of this first outfly of the hurricane. The ship
continued to lie down to the fierce sweep of the wind at the angle she
had reached to--it was as good or bad, indeed, as being on her beam
ends--and Miss Temple and I were forced to keep our seats upon the
hencoop, no more able to crawl up the deck to where the companion hatch
was than had it been a slope of polished ice. This maybe was what she
meant by ‘the ridiculousness of her position.’ The captain, standing to
windward, was sending ominous looks at the band of the foretopsail and
at the foretopmaststay-sail, the cloths of which continued miraculously
to hold. There was too much wind for the sea to rise suddenly; indeed,
the weight of the blast had smoothed down what remains of swell the
rain and hail had left; the ocean was a level surface of foam, out of
which the tempest of wind was tearing up whole snowstorms of flakes
of spume, which flew over the ship in clouds that whitened out into a
sort of dazzle, as though sun touched, as they flew in their throbbing
masses athwart the leaden sky which poured across the sea over the
ship’s bows in rags and trailing lengths and gyrating coils of sooty
vapour.
‘Look!’ I shouted to Miss Temple, and pointed over our stern, where,
out of the flying faintness and thickness of spray, the figure of the
brig was at that instant forming itself.
I sprang upon the hencoop, the better to see, grasping the mizzen
shrouds for support.
‘Shall I give you a hoist?’ I cried to the girl.
Her curiosity was too strong; the flying brig--a fleeting vision of the
object which had filled us with alarm and suspense throughout the day,
was a wonder to be witnessed at such a time as that at any cost. Her
lips parted in the word yes to the howl of the gale, and in a moment I
had her up alongside of me, my arm through hers, securely gripping and
supporting her, and the pair of us gazing breathlessly at the sight
astern.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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