Dana, Richard Henry, 1815-1882; Sailors; Seafaring life; Voyages and travels
It was now eleven o'clock, and the watch was sent below to get
breakfast, and at eight bells (noon), as everything was snug, although
the gale had not in the least abated, the watch was set, and the other
watch and idlers sent below. For three days and three nights, the gale
continued with unabated fury, and with singular regularity. There was
no lulls, and very little variation in its fierceness. Our ship, being
light, rolled so as almost to send the fore yard-arm under water, and
drifted off bodily, to leeward. All this time there was not a cloud to
be seen in the sky, day or night;--no, not so large as a man's hand.
Every morning the sun rose cloudless from the sea, and set again at
night, in the sea, in a flood of light. The stars, too, came out of
the blue, one after another, night after night, unobscured, and
twinkled as clear as on a still frosty night at home, until the day
came upon them. All this time, the sea was rolling in immense surges,
white with foam, as far as the eye could reach, on every side, for we
were now leagues and leagues from shore.
The between-decks being empty, several of us slept there in hammocks,
which are the best things in the world to sleep in during a storm; it
not being true of them, as it is of another kind of bed, "when the wind
blows, the cradle will rock;" for it is the ship that rocks, while they
always hang vertically from the beams. During these seventy-two hours
we had nothing to do, but to turn in and out, four hours on deck, and
four below, eat, sleep, and keep watch. The watches were only varied by
taking the helm in turn, and now and then, by one of the sails, which
were furled, blowing out of the gaskets, and getting adrift, which sent
us up on the yards; and by getting tackles on different parts of the
rigging, which were slack. Once, the wheel-rope parted, which might
have been fatal to us, had not the chief mate sprung instantly with a
relieving tackle to windward, and kept the tiller up, till a new one
could be rove. On the morning of the twentieth, at daybreak, the gale
had evidently done its worst, and had somewhat abated; so much so, that
all hands were called to bend new sails, although it was still blowing
as hard as two common gales. One at a time, and with great difficulty
and labor, the old sails were unbent and sent down by the bunt-lines,
and three new topsails, made for the homeward passage round Cape Horn,
and which had never been bent, were got up from the sailroom, and under
the care of the sailmaker, were fitted for bending, and sent up by the
halyards into the tops, and, with stops and frapping lines, were bent
to the yards, close-reefed, sheeted home, and hoisted. These were done
one at a time, and with the greatest care and difficulty. Two spare
courses were then got up and bent in the same manner and furled, and a
storm-jib, with the bonnet off, bent and furled to the boom. It was
twelve o'clock before we got through; and five hours of more exhausting
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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