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
And yet I was sensible of no revolt and inward rage against what
I deemed my destiny. My being and individuality were absorbed and
swallowed up in the power and immensity of the tempest, like a
rain-drop in the sea. I was overwhelmed by the vastness of the dangers
which surrounded me, by the sense of the littleness and insignificance
of myself and my companions in the midst of this spacious theatre of
warring winds, and raging seas, and far-reaching sky of pouring cloud.
I felt as though all the forces of nature were directed against my
life; and those cries which my heart would have sent up in the presence
of dangers less tumultuous and immense were silenced by a kind of dull
amazement, of heavy passive bewilderment, which numbed my mind and
forced upon me an indifference to the issue without depriving me of the
will and energy to avert it.
I held my post at the wheel, being anxious that the boatswain and
Cornish should recruit their strength by sleep, for if one or the other
of them broke down, then, indeed, our case would be deplorable.
The force of the wind was stupendous, and yet the brave main-topsail
stood it; but not an hour had passed since the two men went below when
a monster wave took the ship on the starboard bow and threw her up,
rolling at the same time an immense body of water on to the decks; her
stern, where I was crouching, sank in the hollow level with the sea,
then as the leviathan wave rolled under her counter, the ship's bows
fell into a prodigious trough with a sickening, whirling swoop. Ere she
could recover, another great sea rolled right upon her, burying her
forecastle, and rushing with the fury of a cataract along the main-deck.
Another wave of that kind, and our fate was sealed.
But happily these were exceptional seas; smaller waves succeeded, and
the struggling, straining ship showed herself alive still.
Alive, but maimed. That tremendous swoop had carried away the jibboom,
and the fore top-gallant mast--the one close against the bowsprit head,
the other a few inches above the top-gallant yard. The mast, with the
royal yard upon it, hung all in a heap against the fore-topmast, but
fortunately kept steady, owing to the yard-arm having jammed itself
into the fore-topmast rigging. The jibboom was clean gone adrift and
was washing away to leeward.
This was no formidable accident, though it gave the ship a wrecked
and broken look. I should have been well-pleased to see all three
top-gallant masts go over the side, for the weight of the yards,
swaying to and fro at great angles, was too much for the lower-masts,
and not only strained the decks, but the planking to which the
chain-plates were bolted.
My great anxiety now was for the fore-topmast, which was sustaining
the weight of the broken mast and yard, in addition to the top-gallant
yard, still standing, and the heavy pulling of the fore-topmast
staysail.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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