Patagonia Bookshelf

A STORM

In the latter part of our voyage there has been little to vary the monotony of our life on ship board. An occasional gale or strong squall which stirred up our dullness and carried away a few sails and booms was an occurrence to talk of as a nine days wonder. That which occurred on Thursday, February 6, P.M. was the most severe. It came on in a hard squall which carried away the Main Royal and Fore Top Mast Studding sail before they could be taken in and their fragments hung in rags for the rest of the day. While all hands were busy shortening sail in the midst of thunder, lightning and heavy rain, there came a loud clap immediately overhead. While I was wondering that, although it was close to our ears, I had not seen the lightning, there came a tremendous and continued clatter of chains and rigging upon the deck, which made me suppose that although no lightning was visible, it had struck the vessel and, at the least, much damaged her. On running to the deck, I found myself almost carried off my feet by the wind, which was so strong that if I had held my hand up, it would have threatened to carry it away.

When I regained my feet and a secure hold of something to stand by, I was able to look about and found that the still continued uproar and repeated thundering claps were occasioned by the Main Sail (a strong sheet containing about 240 yards of canvas), one corner of which had broken away from the ship's side and, holding still by the Main Yard, was flapping terribly and beating the deck and rigging with its heavy chains and ropes hanging from its end, like the nine tails of a "cat". No one could seize it for some minutes, and when all hands got hold of the lashings it swung them about as if, to speak hyperbolically, the men were mere knots upon strings; it could not be quieted or fastened at all and everyone was in danger of receiving a quietus from one of its terrible claws. At last the furious thing was overpowered by a blast of wind that completely ripped up its whole bellying body and left it a chaos of rags and ribbons streaming in the rain and wind. The only person hurt was the Mate whose hand the hard cold chain laid up in a safe warm poultice for a few days.

The next day was spent in clearing away the wreck. A few nights after, there was quite a change of scene and employment - we saw a beautiful sight: many large porpoises (say, each two yards long) were playing about the vessel, the phosphorescence of the water giving their bodies the appearance of fiery meteors of a white heat shooting through the darkness. The crew managed to harpoon five but owing to the strong head sea neither (sic) of them could be hauled on deck.