Captain Toynbee, the late highly respected and admired Marine Superintendent of the British Meteorological Office, has told us how, during a cyclone which he rode out in the HOTSPUR at Sandheads, the mouth of the Hooghly, the three naked topgallant-masts of his ship, though of well-tested timber a foot in diameter, and supported by all the usual network of stays, and without the yards, were snapped off and carried away solely by the violence of the wind.It must, of course, have been an extreme gust, which did not last many seconds, for no cable that was ever forged would have held the ship against such a cataclysm as that.This gentleman's integrity is above suspicion, so that no exaggeration could be charged against him, and he had the additional testimony of his officers and men to this otherwise incredible fact.
The terrible day wore on, without any lightening of the tempest, till noon, when the wind suddenly fell to a calm.Until that time, the sea, although heavy, was not vicious or irregular, and we had not shipped any heavy water at all.But when the force of the wind was suddenly withdrawn, such a sea arose as I have never seen before or since.Inky mountains of water raised their savage heads in wildest confusion, smashing one another in whirlpools of foam.It was like a picture of the primeval deep out of which arose the new-born world.Suddenly out of the whirling blackness overhead the moon appeared, nearly in the zenith, sending down through the apex of a dome of torn and madly gyrating cloud a flood of brilliant light.Illumined by that startling radiance, our staunch and seaworthy ship was tossed and twirled in the hideous vortex of mad sea until her motion was distracting.It was quite impossible to loose one's hold and attempt to do anything without running the imminent risk of being dashed to pieces.Our decks were full of water now, for it tumbled on board at all points; but as yet no serious weight of a sea had fallen upon us, nor had any damage been done.Such a miracle as that could not be expected to continue for long.
Suddenly a warning shout rang out from somewhere--"Hold on all, for your lives!" Out of the hideous turmoil around arose, like some black, fantastic ruin, an awful heap of water.Higher and higher it towered, until it was level with our lower yards, then it broke and fell upon us.All was blank.Beneath that mass every thought, every feeling, fled but one--"How long shall I be able to hold my breath?" After what seemed a never-ending time, we emerged from the wave more dead than alive, but with the good ship still staunch underneath us, and Hope's lamp burning brightly.The moon had been momentarily obscured, but now shone out again, lighting up brilliantly our bravely-battling ship.
But, alas for others!--men, like ourselves, whose hopes were gone.Quite near us was the battered remainder of what had been a splendid ship.Her masts were gone, not even the stumps being visible, and it seemed to our eager eyes as if she was settling down.It was even so, for as we looked, unmindful of our own danger, she quietly disappeared--swallowed up with her human freight in a moment, like a pebble dropped into a pond.
While we looked with hardly beating hearts at the place where she had sunk, all was blotted out in thick darkness again.With a roar, as of a thousand thunders, the tempest came once more, but from the opposite direction now.As we were under no sail, we ran little risk of being caught aback; but, even had we, nothing could have been done, the vessel being utterly out of control, besides the impossibility of getting about.It so happened, however, that when the storm burst upon us again, we were stern on to it, and we drove steadily for a few moments until we had time to haul to the wind again.Great heavens! how it blew!
Surely, I thought, this cannot last long--just as we sometimes say of the rain when it is extra heavy.It did last, however, for what seemed an interminable time, although any one could see that the sky was getting kindlier.Gradually, imperceptibly, it took off, the sky cleared, and the tumult ceased, until a new day broke in untellable beauty over a revivified world.
Years afterwards I read, in one of the hand-books treating of hurricanes and cyclones, that "in the centre of these revolving storms the sea is so violent that few ships can pass through it and live." That is true talk.I have been there, and bear witness that but for the build and sea-kindliness of the CACHALOT, she could not have come out of that horrible cauldron again, but would have joined that nameless unfortunate whom we saw succumb, "never again heard of." As it was, we found two of the boats stove in, whether by breaking sea or crushing wind nobody knows.Most of the planking of the bulwarks was also gone, burst outward by the weight of the water on deck.Only the normal quantity of water was found in the well on sounding, and not even a rope-yarn was gone from aloft.Altogether, we came out of the ordeal triumphantly, where many a gallant vessel met her fate, and the behaviour of the grand old tub gave me a positive affection for her, such as I have never felt for a ship before or since.
There was now a big heap of work for the carpenter, so the skipper decided to run in for the Cocos or Keeling islands, in order to lay quietly and refit.We had now only three boats sound, the one smashed when poor Bamberger died being still unfinished--of course, the repairs had practically amounted to rebuilding.Therefore we kept away for this strange assemblage of reefs and islets, arriving off them early the next day.
They consist of a true "atoll," or basin, whose rim is of coral reefs, culminating occasionally in sandy islands or cays formed by the accumulated debris washed up from the reef below, and then clothed upon with all sorts of plants by the agency of birds and waves.
