Smutty rags of clouds flew across the ominous horizon, and spiteful
gusts, apparently from every direction of the compass, caught the old
Nautilus in wild arms, and tossed her about like a foot-ball.
She had sprung a slight leak also, nothing dangerous in a stanch vessel,
but an added straw, which might prove the last in this straining wrestle
with wind and sea, and she did not answer her rudder as her steersman
could have wished.
"Will she stan' it, cap'n, think ee?" asked Reuben anxiously, as a
momentary pause in the pounding and smashing found them together.
"God A'mighty knows!" was the solemn answer. "If her rudder"--
The rest was drowned in a new shriek of the blast, and Reuben threw
himself flat and clung for dear life to the winch, as a wave washed over
the deck, smashing everything breakable into kindling-wood, and almost
drowning the two, whom instinct and long practice helped to cling, in
spite of the fact that the very breath was beaten out of their bodies.
But this, bad as it seemed, was only the beginning of troubles. There
were hours of just such experiences; and Reuben's strength, robust as it
was, began to fail him beneath the strain.
In such storms there is no rest for the sailor. Something is needed of
him every moment, especially upon these fishing smacks and schooners,
which carry such small crews; and often forty or more hours will pass
with literally no rest at all.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100