Dana, Richard Henry, 1815-1882; Sailors; Seafaring life; Voyages and travels
We found a stake fastened strongly into the ground, and apparently
capable of holding my weight, to which we made one end of the halyards
well fast, and taking the coil, threw it over the brink. The end, we
saw, just reached to a landing-place, from which the descent to the
beach was easy. Having nothing on but shirt, trowsers, and hat, the
common sea-rig of warm weather, I had no stripping to do, and began my
descent, by taking hold of the rope in each hand, and slipping down,
sometimes with hands and feet round the rope, and sometimes breasting
off with one hand and foot against the precipice, and holding on to the
rope with the other. In this way I descended until I came to a place
which shelved in, and in which the hides were lodged. Keeping hold of
the rope with one hand, I scrambled in, and by the other hand and feet
succeeded in dislodging all the hides, and continued on my way. Just
below this place, the precipice projected again, and going over the
projection, I could see nothing below me but the sea and the rocks upon
which it broke, and a few gulls flying in mid-air. I got down in
safety, pretty well covered with dirt; and for my pains was told, "What
a d--d fool you were to risk your life for a half a dozen hides!"
While we were carrying the hides to the boat, I perceived, what I had
been too busy to observe before, that heavy black clouds were rolling
up from seaward, a strong swell heaving in, and every sign of a
south-easter. The captain hurried everything. The hides were pitched
into the boats; and, with some difficulty, and by wading nearly up to
our armpits, we got the boats through the surf, and began pulling
aboard. Our gig's crew towed the pinnace astern of the gig, and the
launch was towed by six men in the jolly-boat. The ship was lying
three miles off, pitching at her anchor, and the farther we pulled, the
heavier grew the swell. Our boat stood nearly up and down several
times; the pinnace parted her towline, and we expected every moment to
see the launch swamped. We at length got alongside, our boats half
full of water; and now came the greatest difficulty of all,--unloading
the boats, in a heavy sea, which pitched them about so that it was
almost impossible to stand in them; raising them sometimes even with
the rail, and again dropping them below the bends. With great
difficulty, we got all the hides aboard and stowed under hatches, the
yard and stay tackles hooked on, and the launch and pinnace hoisted,
checked, and griped. The quarter-boats were then hoisted up, and we
began heaving in on the chain. Getting the anchor was no easy work in
such a sea, but as we were not coming back to this port, the captain
determined not to slip. The ship's head pitched into the sea, and the
water rushed through the hawse-holes, and the chain surged so as almost
to unship the barrel of the windlass. "Hove short, sir!" said the
mate. "Aye, aye! Weather-bit your chain and loose the topsails! Make
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