Dana, Richard Henry, 1815-1882; Sailors; Seafaring life; Voyages and travels
the fore top-gallant yard; and, after playing about for some time,
disappeared once more, when the man on the forecastle pointed to
it upon the flying-jib-boom-end. But our attention was drawn from
watching this, by the falling of some drops of rain, and by a
perceptible increase of the darkness, which seemed suddenly to add
a new shade of blackness to the night. In a few minutes, low,
grumbling thunder was heard, and some random flashes of lightning
came from the southwest. Every sail was taken in but the topsails;
still, no squall appeared to be coming. A few puffs lifted the
topsails, but they fell again to the mast, and all was as still as
ever. A moment more, and a terrific flash and peal broke
simultaneously upon us, and a cloud appeared to open directly over
our heads, and let down the water in one body, like a falling
ocean. We stood motionless, and almost stupefied; yet nothing had
been struck. Peal after peal rattled over our heads, with a sound
which seemed actually to stop the breath in the body, and the
``speedy gleams'' kept the whole ocean in a glare of light. The
violent fall of rain lasted but a few minutes, and was followed by
occasional drops and showers; but the lightning continued
incessant for several hours, breaking the midnight darkness with
irregular and blinding flashes. During all this time there was not
a breath stirring, and we lay motionless, like a mark to be shot
at, probably the only object on the surface of the ocean for miles
and miles. We stood hour after hour, until our watch was out, and
we were relieved, at four o'clock. During all this time hardly a
word was spoken; no bells were struck, and the wheel was silently
relieved. The rain fell at intervals in heavy showers, and we
stood drenched through and blinded by the flashes, which broke the
Egyptian darkness with a brightness that seemed almost malignant;
while the thunder rolled in peals, the concussion of which
appeared to shake the very ocean. A ship is not often injured by
lightning, for the electricity is separated by the great number of
points she presents, and the quantity of iron which she has
scattered in various parts. The electric fluid ran over our
anchors, topsail sheets and ties; yet no harm was done to us. We
went below at four o'clock, leaving things in the same state. It
is not easy to sleep when the very next flash may tear the ship in
two, or set her on fire; or where the deathlike calm may be broken
by the blast of a hurricane, taking the masts out of the ship. But
a man is no sailor if he cannot sleep when he turns-in, and turn
out when he's called. And when, at seven bells, the customary
``All the larboard watch, ahoy!'' brought us on deck, it was a
fine, clear, sunny morning, the ship going leisurely along, with a
soft breeze and all sail set.
[1] A man at the wheel is required to repeat every order given him.
A simple ``Aye, aye, sir,'' is not enough there.
CHAPTER XXXV
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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