The White Squall: A Story of the Sargasso SeaHutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
General
The White Squall: A Story of the Sargasso Sea
Hutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
Sargasso Sea -- Fiction
At the same moment, too, with a loud double report, the foresail and
main-topsail blew out of the bolt-ropes, floating away in the distance.
But this relief, great as it was, did not right the ship, for the huge
white wave, following the gust, forced her over still more on her side;
and, in less time than I have taken to tell of the occurrence, the
_Josephine_ was on her beam-ends and every soul on board struggling in
the water for dear life.
"Hole on, Mass' Tom, hole on!" I heard Jake's voice cry somewhere, as I
sank beneath the rocking surges that were in an instant cresting over
the poop. "Hole on, Mass' Tom, hole on!"
I tried to battle with the sea, but it bore me down, and down, and down.
And then--I felt I was drowning!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
IN DIRE PERIL.
Jake's voice seemed ever so far away in the distance, and there was a
confused sort of humming, buzzing noise in my ears; while some heavy
weight on the top of my head appeared to be pressing me down, although I
struggled frantically to free myself.
It was all in vain, though.
I was whirled round and round in an eddy of the sea; and soon my efforts
ceased.
Then, all at once, when almost the sense of suffocation had passed, I
felt a hand grasp my collar at the back of my neck; and, oh, gracious
heaven! I was dragged above the surface and drew once more a breath of
air. I took in a gulp of water with this; but, in spite of the water,
the air was the sweet essence of life and I breathed again!
I had been in a dream before--a terrible dream; now I came to myself,
and my recollection returned.
The buzzing sounds that had previously echoed through my brain resolved
themselves into the hoarse shouts of the crew of the _Josephine_; the
exclamations of the sailors being mingled with the roaring, crashing
break of the waves as they washed over the wreck, and the creaking and
rending of the timbers of the poor ship, while, nearer yet to me, I
could distinguish the cheering cry of faithful Jake:
"Hole up, Mass' Tom, um got um safe now. Hole up an' take good breff;
we'se all right, an' ebberybody safe!"
At the same moment that he spoke Jake lifted me up on something which I
could feel with my feet, and I opened my eyes.
At first, I was almost blinded by the sea-water which had got into them,
and the salt spray which continually dashed over my head; but, in a
minute or two, I was able to see where I was and grasp the situation.
The ship was lying over on her starboard side, with her decks submerged
up to the hatches, and her masts horizontal on the surface of the sea;
but, the whole of her port side was clear out of the water, and,
although the waves were breaking over this, still the major part of the
quarter and a portion of the poop were almost high and dry in the
intervals between the following rollers that ever and anon swept up to
their level.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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