One dark and stormy night we were on a voyage from Bergen to
Christiansand in a small sloop. Our captain suspected that he had
approached too near the Norwegian coast, though he could not discern
any land, and the wind blew with such violence that we were in
momentary dread of being driven upon a lee-shore. We had endeavoured,
for more than an hour, to keep our vessel away; but our efforts proved
unavailing, and we soon found that we could scarcely hold our own. A
clouded sky, a hazy atmosphere, and irregular showers of sleety rain,
combined to deepen the obscurity of night, and nothing whatever was
visible, except the sparkling of the distant waves, when their tops
happened to break into a wreath of foam. The sea ran very high, and
sometimes broke over the deck so furiously that the men were obliged
to hold by the rigging, lest they should be carried away. Our captain
was a person of timid and irresolute character, and the dangers that
environed us made him gradually lose confidence in himself. He often
gave orders, and countermanded them in the same moment, all the while
taking small quantities of ardent spirits at intervals. Fear and
intoxication soon stupified him completely, and the crew ceased to
consult him, or to pay any respect to his authority, in so far as
regarded the management of the vessel.
About midnight our mainsail was split, and shortly after we found that
the sloop had sprung a leak. We had before shipped a good deal of
water through the hatches, and the quantity that now entered from
below was so great that we thought she would go down every moment. Our
only chance of escape lay in our boat, which was immediately lowered.
After we had all got on board of her, except the captain, who stood
leaning against the mast, we called to him, requesting that he would
follow us without delay. "How dare you quit the sloop without my
permission?" cried he, staggering forwards. "This is not fit weather
to go a-fishing. Come back--back with you all!"--"No, no," returned
one of the crew; "we don't want to be sent to the bottom for your
obstinacy. Bear a hand there, or we'll leave you behind."--"Captain,
you are drunk," said another; "you cannot take care of yourself. You
must obey _us_ now."--"Silence! mutinous villain!" answered the
captain. "What are you all afraid of? This is a fine breeze--Up
mainsail, and steer her right in the wind's eye."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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