Ned Myers, or, a Life Before the MastCooper, James Fenimore
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Ned Myers, or, a Life Before the Mast
Cooper, James Fenimore
Myers, Ned, approximately 1793-1849; Seafaring life
The instant I was aware there was a squall, I sprang for the jib-sheet.
Being captain of the forecastle, I knew where to find it, and throw it
loose at a jerk. In doing this, I jumped on a man named Leonard Lewis, and
called on him to lend me a hand. I next let fly the larboard, or lee
top-sail-sheet, got hold of the clew-line, and, assisted by Lewis, got the
clew half up. All this time I kept shouting to the man at the wheel to put
his helm "hard down." The water was now up to my breast, and I knew the
schooner must go over. Lewis had not said a word, but I called out to him
to shift for himself, and belaying the clew-line, in hauling myself
forward of the foremast, I received a blow from the jib-sheet that came
near breaking my left arm. I did not feel the effect of this blow at the
time, though the arm has since been operated on, to extract a tumour
produced by this very injury.
All this occupied less than a minute. The flashes of lightning were
incessant, and nearly blinded me. Our decks seemed on fire, and yet I
could see nothing. I heard no hail, no order, no call; but the schooner
was filled with the shrieks and cries of the men to leeward, who were
lying jammed under the guns, shot-boxes, shot, and other heavy things that
had gone down as the vessel fell over. The starboard second gun, from
forward, had capsized, and come down directly over the forward hatch, and
I caught a glimpse of a man struggling to get past it. Apprehension of
this gun had induced me to drag myself forward of the mast, where I
received the blow mentioned.
I succeeded in hauling myself up to windward, and in getting into the
schooner's fore-channels. Here I met William Deer, the boatswain, and a
black boy of the name of Philips, who was the powder-boy of our gun.
"Deer, she's gone!" I said. The boatswain made no answer, but walked out
on the fore-rigging, towards the mast-head. He probably had some vague
notion that the schooner's masts would be out of water if she went down,
and took this course as the safest. The boy was in the chains the last I
saw of him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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