enabled to reach his destination more quickly than by pursuing a more direct course.
We accordingly held to our northerly direction and every day approached nearer to the torrid zone. The change from the extreme cold of Cape Horn to the warmth of the tropics was pleasant enough at first, but, as we neared the equator, the heat became overpowering. The wind that had hitherto favoured us began to shift about from one quarter to another, and occasionally dropped completely, letting our sails hang idly from the yards.
We had been subject to these caprices of the wind for some days, when the weather became extremely sultry and a sudden fall of the barometer announced an approaching storm.
Our captain, who, to do him justice, was well up in nautical knowledge, and, though a theorist, was a careful and prudent sailor, saw reason to apprehend a storm of some violence. To provide for the worst he had the boats looked to, saw that they were ready for immediate use, and that the life-boat in especial lay free on the deck and was well supplied with oars, mast and sail, some cases of preserved meat, some bags of biscuit and kegs of water; for, though he spoke, and I believe felt, as confident of the safety of his ship as ever, he, like a prudent man, was resolved to provide against accidents, however remote they appeared to him.
We had not long to wait for the outbreak of the storm. The sky became covered with a thick pall of black cloud, and the wind came on with a roar, lashing the sea into white-crested billows, that every moment increased in size. We had been laid head to wind, with every stitch of canvas furled, and yet we were driven rapidly astern by the furious gale.
Every instant the wind increased in violence, the darkness became greater, and our condition more perilous. Suddenly the shrill voice of a boy, perched up somewhere among the shrouds, alarmed us with the cry of "Breakers astern!" Our captain ran up beside the boy, and presently descended with a face pale with emotion; but with consummate calmness he gave the necessary orders for avoiding the danger. A jib-sail was unfurled and the rudder put hard a-port. The force of the gale caused the vessel to swing suddenly round, and just as she presented her side to the full force of the wind, she turned right over and almost immediately disappeared beneath the waves. The whole thing happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that there was not an instant of time for making any preparations for the catastrophe. I was standing on the windward side of the vessel, clinging to the bulwarks, and, before I could realise what had happened, I found myself projected with considerable force into the boiling abyss of water. Now, although I was almost as much at home in the water as on land, in such a sea and under such circumstances I had no chance for my life. But I had no time to make this reflection. Without knowing how it happened, I found myself overwhelmed by the world of seething waters. I came speedily to the surface, and then the whole gravity of my position forced itself upon me. The only part of the gallant ship still visible was a portion of the hull, keel uppermost, and that was heeling over and sinking rapidly. Had I had leisure to reflect, I would have suffered myself to go down along with the ship, for what chance had I alone in such a wilderness of water? But the instinct of self-preservation was the only faculty awake at that moment, and I struck out from the engulphing whirlpool caused by the sinking ship as vigorously as I could. With a feeling of agonised despair I saw the life-boat, which had been kept ready for other emergencies, floating away broadside on at the distance of half a wave from me, and so much farther to leeward. When I rose on the crest of the wave the boat was down in the hollow, and when I sank it rose. I thought I could reach it by a few strokes, but I found that the rate at which the wind drove it was fully equal to the way I could gain by the utmost exertion. After a few minutes of vigorous swimming, I saw, to my consternation, for I now fully realised my position, that the boat was as far from me as at first. The utmost exertion I could make did not diminish my distance an atom, and I was about to abandon the attempt in despair, when I perceived close beside me the trail of a rope in the water. I seized hold of it, and found it was a loose rope hanging over the stern of the life-boat. A thrill of joy shot through me as I clung on to it with both hands, but, oh, horror I as I pulled at the rope it began to pay itself out over the end of the boat, and my heart sank at the idea that it might be a loose coil of rope, without any attachment to the boat. I well remember the feeling that came over me as I observed yard after yard of the rope slide over the edge of the life-boat. It was not fear nor sadness, but a sort of apathetic indifference that took hold of me, the reaction possibly from the exquisite joy I had experienced a moment before. I made up my mind that the rope was unattached to the boat, and I seemed to be reckoning how long it would be ere I should see the end slip over and bury itself and all my hopes with it in the depths of the sea. I had twisted the end of the rope round my right wrist, and, while watching it glide out of the boat, had left off swimming. Suddenly I felt a jerk at my wrist, and at the same moment the rope left off paying out and became taut.
My hopes at once revived. I saw that the other end was fastened to the boat, and I forthwith commenced to haul myself to the boat, hand over hand. The strain on the rope turned the boat round, so that it now presented only its end in place of its side to the wind. In this position, there was no difficulty in getting up close to it. My hands were soon on the gunwale, and the rolling wave assisted me to tumble right into the boat, at the bottom of which I lay for a few minutes, exhausted by fatigue and excitement.
But I did not lie long. Anxiety about the fate of my companions of the ship made me start up, in order to see if there were other survivors of the wreck besides myself. I scanned every wave as it rose to view with eager eyes. Some hen-coops, cases, spars, and other deck-lumber were visible, but I saw no one clinging to them, nor could I detect the head of any bold swimmer among those black and hideous waves. The time that had elapsed since the vessel went down (for it had taken me a long time to get to the boat after I had seized on the rope, as the rope was long, and, having stopped swimming while it was paying out, I was separated by its whole length from the boat) would have been sufficient to overwhelm any but a very powerful swimmer; and I knew that few of my companions could swim at all and none of them very well. Had there been any survivor of the wreck in the water at that moment, it would have been utterly impossible for me to reach him, for the wind still continued to impel my boat forward much too powerfully for me to have been able to stay its course, far less to row back to the struggling swimmer, had there been any such.
When I reflected on this, I felt almost relieved that nowhere could I espy a sign of a living being, for I knew that I should have only had to endure the agony of seeing him go down beneath the waves without the power to help him in the slightest degree.
After my fruitless search, I lay down once more exhausted and scarcely thankful that I alone should have been saved whilst all the passengers and crew had accompanied the fine vessel to the bottom of the sea.
How long I lay, worn out and stunned, sensible of nothing but my forlorn and lonely condition, while the boat was tossed up and down amid the vast solitude of the ocean, I know not. But gradually I felt that I must exert myself, if only to get a respite from the sombre thoughts that pursued me.
I perceived that the violence of the storm was sensibly abating; the wind no longer swept over the sea in the same terrific gusts, and the crests of the waves were no longer blown into white foam. I crept forward to the middle of the boat, and, by great exertions, managed to fix the short mast into its socket, and to hoist the small, sail with which it was furnished, resolved to let the wind, which had now moderated to a stiff breeze, carry me as fast as possible away from the scene of death and desolation.
Almost my first idea was to endeavour to ascertain in what direction the boat was hurrying. I found the compass stowed away among the cases and kegs at the bottom of the boat, and I ascertained that I was sailing almost due north.
I ate some food and took a good draught of water, and, feeling refreshed and invigorated, sat down in the stern, with the tiller-lines in my hands, and kept the boat well before the wind.
After the lapse of a few hours, the sea became comparatively calm, the clouds broke, the sun began to shine forth, substituting dazzling brightness for the previous gloom.
