Pulling myself along the jackstay until I reached the bunt, I managed to grasp a line that was tailing taut downward toward the deck. This I grasped quickly with both hands, and bawling with all my might to Jackson and Davis to follow, I swung clear of the yard. Looking below, the sea appeared as white as milk in the ghastly light, with the ship's outline now dimly discernible in contrast. I breathed a prayer that the line was fast amidships and slid down. There was a terrific ripping instantly overhead, and I knew the topsail had gone. The line bowed out with the wind, but led toward the deck near the mast, and in a moment my feet struck the fife rail. I was safe for the present. Jackson followed close upon me, but Davis was unable to get the line. He was never seen again.
Making my way aft by the aid of the weather rail, I reached the poop and climbed up the steps. The wind nearly swept me from my feet, but I managed to crawl aft to where I could make out by the flashes the forms of Trunnell and the skipper.
"She'll go off soon," yelled the mate in my ear. "Nothin' gone forrads yet, hey?"
"Only the canvas and a couple of men," I yelled in reply.
The wind began to draw further and further aft, showing that the ship was gradually gathering headway in spite of her list to starboard. Soon she began to right herself in the storm-torn sea. All was white as snow about us, and the whiteness gave a ghastly light in the gloom. I could now make out the maintopsail, dimly, from where I stood, and the outline of the hull forward. Evidently the fore lower topsail was holding still. Jackson, who was tall and strong, and who was an American by adoption, was put to the lee wheel, as his knowledge of English made him quick to obey. John, a Swede, built very broad with stooping shoulders, and Erikson, a Norwegian with a great blond head and powerful neck, grasped the weather spokes. Bill, the other quartermaster, had not shown up, and we found later that he was one of the missing from the fore topsail yard.
Trunnell and Captain Thompson called the men aft to the poop, and away we went into the gloom ahead.
She was doing a good fifteen knots under her two, or rather one storm topsail; for we found out afterward that the fore had gone almost instantly after she had payed off. The water was roaring white astern, and the wind blew so hard that it was impossible to face it for more than a moment. The sea was making fast, and I began to wonder how long the vessel could run before the great heave which I knew must soon follow us.
Thompson stood bareheaded near the binnacle, and roared to the men to be careful and keep her steady. It was plain he knew nothing of seamanship, but could tell that a thing must be done well after the mate had given orders. He was apparently perfectly sober now, and as cool as though on the beach. It was evident the man feared nothing and could command. I saw that I could be of little use aft, so I started forward, hoping to be able to keep a lookout for a shift of wind and get some gear ready to heave the vessel to.
On reaching the main deck, things showed to be in a hopeless mess. Everything movable had gone to leeward when she was hove down, the running rigging was lying about, and no attempt had been made to coil it. The sea, which had been over the lee rail, had washed that on the starboard side into long tangles which would take hours to clear. I stumbled over a mass of rope which must have been the fore topsail brace. I saw a figure moving through the gloom along the bulwarks and called for the man to lay aft and coil down some of the gear. The man, however, paid no attention to me, but made his way into the forward cabin, and as the door opened and the light from within flashed out I recognized the third mate.
A man named Hans answered my hail, and I started forward again. The sea by this time was running rapidly. The ship was so deep that I knew she would not keep her deck clear, and I started to gain the topgallant forecastle where the height would make it safer.
Just as I gained the highest step, a tremendous sea following broke clear along the top of the rail in the waist, and went forward a good five feet above her bulwarks, the entire length of the main deck.
It was terrific. The thundering crash and smothering jar nearly paralyzed me for a moment. In the dim glare I could see rails, stanchions, boats, rigging, all in the furious white rush. The Pirate settled under the load and seemed to stop perfectly still. Then another huge sea went roaring over her and blotted out everything to the edge of the forecastle head.
I stood looking down at the main deck in amazement. How long would the hatches stand that strain? Everything was out of sight under water, save the top of the forward house. I looked up into the roaring void above me and breathed a parting prayer, for it seemed that the ship's end must be at hand. Then I was aware that she was broaching to, and I grabbed the rail to meet the sea.
Every stitch of canvas had gone out of her now, and nothing but the bare yards were left aloft. How they ever stood the frightful strain was a miracle and spoke volumes for the Yankee riggers who fitted her out. The wind bore more and more abeam, and under the pressure she heeled over, letting the great load on her decks roar off in a torrent to leeward, over the topgallant rail and waterways. A sea struck her so heavily that the larger portion of it went thundering clear across her forty feet of deck, landing bodily to leeward as though the ship were below the surface. I could hear a bawling coming faintly from the poop and knew Trunnell was trying to heave her to. Something fluttered from the mizzen rigging and disappeared into the night. Part of a tarpaulin had gone, but it was a chance to get another piece large enough on the ratlines to hold her head up. I tried to make my way aft again to help, for I saw it was about our only hope, and started to crawl along the weather topgallant rail. Then a form sprang from the black recess under the forecastle head and seized me tightly around the body.
VI
The suddenness of this attack and the peculiar position I was in when seized, put me at a disadvantage. The quick breathing of the man behind me, and the strong force he put forward as he rushed me toward the ship's side, made me aware that I was in a bad fix. The assassin was silent as the grave, save for his panting, but his bearded face against mine was visible enough to show me the former captain of the ship.
I was carried half over the rail in an instant by the power of the rush. The foam showed beneath me, and for a moment it seemed that the man would accomplish his deadly purpose. It was with a horrid feeling of certain death before me that I clutched wildly at the forecastle rail. Luckily my hand caught it, and I was saved from the dive over the side. Then with frantic strength I twisted around enough to seize the fellow, and dropped on my knees with a grip around his middle. It was up and down and all over that side of the forecastle head for some minutes, until we were both getting tired. We were apparently alone forward, and the fight would be one of endurance, unless the ruffian happened to have some weapon about him.
We struggled on and on in the gloom, with the hurricane roaring over us, carrying the spray and drift in a smothering storm into our faces. A hand would slip with a wet grip only to take a fresh hold again, and strain away to get the other under.
We rolled with the ship and after a particularly hard rally, in which I had my hand badly bitten, we eased up near the edge of the forecastle head. During this breathing spell I managed to get my foot braced against a ring-bolt. This gave me a slight advantage for a sudden push. In an instant I shoved with all my might, driving us both to the edge. The ruffian saw what was coming and tried to turn, but it was too late. One single instant of frantic fighting, half suspended in the air, and then over we went, myself on top.