The Cruise of the Snowbird: A Story of Arctic Adventure

thud; it stopped her way for a momentor two. It was then she quivered from stem to stern, like some creaturein agony, and Ralph could hear the water washing about the decksoverhead and pouring down below. The seas, striking the ship, gave himthe idea of blows from something soft but terribly strong, and,ridiculous though it may seem, for the life of him Ralph could not helpthinking of the bolster fights of the days of his boyhood. What othersounds did he hear? The constant and incessant creaking of the yacht'stimbers, the rattle of the rudder chains, and, high over all, the roarof the tempest in the rigging aloft. In the lull of the gale every nowand then, he could hear the trampling of feet and voices--voices givingand voices answering words of command.

  "Starboard a little! Steady?"

  "Starboard it is, sir. Steady!"

  "Hard down!"

  "Hurrsh-sh!" A terrible sea seemed here to have struck her; the dinbelow was increased to a fearful extent by the smashing of crockery andrattling of furniture and fittings.

  "Another man to the wheel! Steady as you go. Steady."

  Then there was a sound like a dreadful explosion, with a kind of gratingnoise, followed by a rattling as if a thousand men were volley-firingoverhead; meanwhile the good ship heeled over as if she never wouldright again. It was a sail rent into ribbons!

  "I can't stand this!" said Ralph, aloud. "Up I must get, and see ifAllan and Rory be awake. They must be."

  Getting out of bed he discovered was a very simple proceeding, for hehad no sooner begun the operation than he found himself sprawling on thedeck. The floor was flooded, and everything was chaos. Feeling for hisclothes, he could distinguish books by the dozen, a drawer, acamp-stool, and a broken glass. At last he managed to find adressing-gown, and also his way along to the saloon. Here a lamp wasburning, and here were Allan and Rory both, and the steward as well.

  All three were somewhat pale. They were simply waiting--but waiting forwhat? They themselves could hardly have told you, but at that timesomething told everyone in the saloon the danger was very great indeed.

  On deck McBain and his men were fighting the seas; two hands were at thewheel, and it needed all their strength at times to keep the vessel'shead in the right direction, and save her from broaching-to. In thepale glimmer of the sheet lightning every rope and block and stay couldat one moment be seen, and the wet, shining decks, and the menclustering in twos and threes, lashed to masts or clinging to ropes tosave themselves from destruction. Next moment the decks would be onemass of seething foam. It was by the lightning's flash, however, or thepale gleam of the breaking waves, and by these alone, that McBain couldguide his vessel safely through this awful tempest.

  So speedily had the gale increased to almost a hurricane, that there wasno time to batten down; but with the first glimpse of dawn the windseemed to abate, and no time was lost in getting tarpaulins nailed down,and only the fore companion was left partially unprotected forcommunication between decks.

  Soon after the captain came below, looking, in his wet and shiningoilskins, like some curious sea-monster, for there was hardly a bit ofhis face to be seen. "What!" he cried, "you boys all up?"

  "Indeed," said Rory, who was nearly always the first to speak, "wethought it was _down_ we soon would all be instead of up?"

  The captain laughed, and applied himself with rare zest to the coffeeand sandwiches the steward placed before him. "Don't give us cups atbreakfast to-morrow, Peter," he said, "but the tin mugs; we're going tohave some days of this weather. And now, boys, I'm going to have acaulk for an hour. You had better follow my example; you will be drierin bed, and, I believe, warmer too."

  Breakfast next day was far from a comfortable meal. The gale stillcontinued, though to a far less extent, and the fire in the galley hadbeen drowned out the night before, and was not yet re-lit. But everyone was cheerful.

  "Better," said McBain, "is a cold sardine and a bit of ship biscuitwhere love is, than roast beef and--"

  "Roast beef and botheration!" said Rory, helping him out.

  "That's it! Thank ye," said McBain. "And now, who is going on deck tohave a look at the sea?"

  "Ha! what a scene is here!" said Allan, looking around him, as he clungto the weather rail.

  Well might he quote Walter Scott. The green seas were higher than themaintop, their foaming, curling tops threatening to engulf the yachtevery minute.

  "I may tell you, my boys," said McBain, grasping a stay and swaying toand fro like a drunken man, "that if the _Snowbird_ weren't the bestlittle ship that ever floated, she couldn't have stood the storm of lastnight. And look yonder, that is all the damage."

  From near her bows, aft as far as the mizen-mast, the bulwarks weresmashed and torn by the force of the waves.

  "We have two men hurt, but not severely, and the pump's at work, butonly to clear her of the drop of water she shipped; and we'll soon mendthe bulwarks."

  All that day and all the next night the gale continued to blow, and itwas anything but comfortable or pleasant below; but the morning of thethird day broke brightly enough, albeit the wind had forged round andwas now coming from the west; but McBain did not mind that.

  "We made such a roaring spin during the gale," he said, "althoughscudding under nearly bare poles, that we can afford to slacken speed alittle now."

  The sea was still angry and choppy, but all things considered the_Snowbird_ made goodly way.

  The forenoon was spent in making good repairs and in getting up thecrow's-nest, a barrel of large dimensions, which in all Greenland-goingships is hoisted and made fast, as high as high can be, namely,alongside the main truck. A comfortable place enough is thiscrow's-nest when you get there, but you need a sailor's head to reachit, for at the main-top-gallant crosstrees the rattlins leave you, andyou have a nasty corner to turn, round to a Jacob's-ladder, up which youmust scramble, spider fashion, and enter the nest from under. You needa sailor's head to reach it and a sailor's heart to remain there, for ifthere is any sea on at all, the swinging and swaying about is enough toturn any landsman sick and giddy.

  Hardly was the crow's-nest in position when the look-out man hailed thedeck below.

  "A vessel in sight, sir."

  Here was some excitement, anyhow.

  "Where away?" bawled the captain.

  "On the weather quarter, sir; I can just raise her topmasts; she isholding the same course as ourselves."

  Shortly after, Mr Stevenson, who had gone aloft, came below to report.

  "She is no whaler, sir, whatever she is," he said.

  "But what else can she be?" said Captain McBain. "She might have beenblown out of her course, to be sure, but with this wind she could makeup her leeway. Keep our yacht a bit nearer the wind, Mr Stevenson,we'll give her a chance of showing her bunting anyhow."

  Dinner-hour in the saloon was one o'clock, and it was barely over whenMr Stevenson entered, and with him a being that made our heroes startand stare in astonishment. What or who was he? They had never seen himbefore, and knew not he was on board--a very little, thin, wiry,weazened old man, all grey hairs, parchment skin, and wrinkles. Was hethe little old man of the sea?

  McBain saw their bewilderment and hastened to explain.

  "My worthy friend Magnus Green," he said, "the passenger I took on boardat Lerwick."

  "There is precious little green about him," thought Rory.

  "The ship is not far off, she is flying a flag of distress, but Magnussays he knows her, and bids us keep clear of her."

  "Well, Magnus, what do you know about her?" asked McBain.

  The little old man talked fast, almost wildly,--it was a way he had,--and gesticulated much.

  "What do I know?" he cried; "why, this,--she is a Spaniard, and a thief.She came into Lerwick two weeks before you, took stores on board,sailed in the night, and paid nobody. She is armed to the teeth, and inmy opinion is after you. Keep away from her, keep away, keep away."

  "But how could she be after us?" asked McBain, incredulous.

  "
How? ha! ha!" laughed Magnus; "you speak like a child. She herselfsailed from Inverness to Lerwick: she'd heard of you, a gentleman'syacht, with everything good on board. She couldn't tackle you nearshore, but out here on the high sea, ha! ha! the case in different."

  "There is something in what Magnus says," said McBain. "Let us go ondeck. Hoist the flag, Mr Stevenson."

  Up went the roll of bunting, one touch to the lanyard, and out on thebreeze floated the red ensign of England.

  [The white ensign is flown by the Royal Navy only, the blue by the NavalReserve, the red by merchantmen and others.]

  The Spaniard was hardly a mile to windward, a long, low, rakish craft,as