Chapter 36 - Page 2

loud above
the roar of the sea, was suddenly heard a sharp, splintering sound,
as of a Norway woodman felling a pine in the forest. It was brave
Jarl, who foremost of all had snatched from its rack against the
mainmast, the ax, always there kept.

"Cut the lanyards to windward!" he cried; and again buried his ax
into the mast. He was quickly obeyed. And upon cutting the third
lanyard of the five, he shouted for us to pause. Dropping his ax, he
climbed up to windward. As he clutched the rail, the wounded mast
snapped in twain with a report like a cannon. A slight smoke was
perceptible where it broke. The remaining lanyards parted. From the
violent strain upon them, the two shrouds flew madly into the
air, and one of the great blocks at their ends, striking Annatoo upon
the forehead, she let go her hold upon a stanchion, and sliding
across the aslant deck, was swallowed up in the whirlpool under our
lea. Samoa shrieked. But there was no time to mourn; no hand could
reach to save.

By the connecting stays, the mainmast carried over with it the
foremast; when we instantly righted, and for the time were saved; my
own royal Viking our saviour.

The first fury of the gale was gone. But far to leeward was seen the
even, white line of its onset, pawing the ocean into foam. All round
us, the sea boiled like ten thousand caldrons; and through eddy,
wave, and surge, our almost water-logged craft waded heavily; every
dead clash ringing hollow against her hull, like blows upon a coffin.

We floated a wreck. With every pitch we lifted our dangling jib-boom
into the air; and beating against the side, were the shattered
fragments of the masts. From these we made all haste to be free, by
cutting the rigging that held them.

Soon, the worst of the gale was blown over. But the sea ran high. Yet
the rack and scud of the tempest, its mad, tearing foam, was subdued
into immense, long-extended, and long-rolling billows; the white
cream on their crests like snow on the Andes. Ever and anon we hung
poised on their brows; when the furrowed ocean all round looked like
a panorama from Chimborazo.

A few hours more, and the surges went down. There was a moderate sea,
a steady breeze, and a clear, starry sky. Such was the storm that
came after our calm.