The Wreck of the Grosvenor, Volume 3 of 3: An account of the mutiny of the crew and the loss of the ship when trying to make the BermudasRussell, William Clark
General
The Wreck of the Grosvenor, Volume 3 of 3: An account of the mutiny of the crew and the loss of the ship when trying to make the Bermudas
It was fair, however, since I had had some rest, that I should now take
a spell at the wheel, and I therefore told Cornish to go to the cabin
lately occupied by Stevens, the ship's carpenter, and turn in, and then
crawled aft to the poop and desired the boatswain to go below and rest
himself, and order the steward, who had not done one-tenth of the work
we had performed, to stand by ready to come on deck if I should call to
him.
I was now alone on deck, in the centre, so it seemed when looking
around the horizon, of a great storm, which was fast lifting the sea
into mountains.
I took a turn round the spokes of the wheel and secured the tiller
ropes to steady the helm, and held on, crouching to windward, so that
I might get some shelter from the murderous force of the wind by the
slanting deck and rail.
I could better now realize our position than when at work, and the
criticalness of it struck and awed me like a revelation.
I cast my eyes upon the main-topsail, and inspected it anxiously, as
on this sail our lives might depend. If it blew away the only sail
remaining would be the fore-topmast staysail. In all probability the
ship's head would at once pay off, let me keep the helm jammed down as
hard as I pleased; the vessel would then drive before the seas, which,
as she had not enough canvas on her to keep her running at any speed,
would very soon topple over her stern, sweep the decks fore and aft,
and render her unmanageable.
There was likewise the further danger of the fore-topmast going, the
whole weight of the staysail being upon it. If this went it would take
that sail with it, and the ship would round into the wind's eye and
drive away astern.
Had there been more hands on board I should not have found these
speculations so alarming. My first job would have been to get some of
the cargo out of the hold and pitch it overboard, so as to lighten the
ship, for the dead weight in her made her strain horribly. Then with
men to help it would have been easy to get the storm trysail on if the
topsail blew away, clap preventer backstays on to the foremast and
fore-topmast, and rouse them taut with tackles, and send down the royal
and top-gallant yards, so as to ease the masts of the immense leverage
of these spars.
But what could four men do--one of the four being almost useless, and
all four exhausted not by the perils and labour of the storm only, but
by the fight they had had to make for their lives against fellow-beings?
Alone on deck, with the heavy seas splashing and thundering, and
precipitating their volumes of water over the ship's side, with the
gale howling and roaring through the skies, I grew bitterly despondent.
It seemed as if God Himself were against me, that I was the sport of
some remorseless fate, whereby I was led from one peril to another,
from one suffering to another, and no mercy to be shown me until death
gave me rest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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