Chapter 19

A NARROW ESCAPE

This Dream Book of Blunt's reminds me of a narrow escape we had, early
one morning.

It was the larboard watch's turn to remain below from midnight till four
o'clock; and having turned in and slept, Blunt suddenly turned out again
about three o'clock, with a wonderful dream in his head; which he was
desirous of at once having interpreted.

So he goes to his chest, gets out his tools, and falls to ciphering on
the lid. When, all at once, a terrible cry was heard, that routed him
and all the rest of us up, and sent the whole ship's company flying on
deck in the dark. We did not know what it was; but somehow, among
sailors at sea, they seem to know when real danger of any land is at
hand, even in their sleep.

When we got on deck, we saw the mate standing on the bowsprit, and
crying out Luff! Luff! to some one in the dark water before the ship. In
that direction, we could just see a light, and then, the great black
hull of a strange vessel, that was coming down on us obliquely; and so
near, that we heard the flap of her topsails as they shook in the wind,
the trampling of feet on the deck, and the same cry of Luff! Luff! that
our own mate, was raising.

In a minute more, I caught my breath, as I heard a snap and a crash,
like the fall of a tree, and suddenly, one of our flying-jib guys jerked
out the bolt near the cat-head; and presently, we heard our jib-boom
thumping against our bows.

Meantime, the strange ship, scraping by us thus, shot off into the
darkness, and we saw her no more. But she, also, must have been injured;
for when it grew light, we found pieces of strange rigging mixed with
ours. We repaired the damage, and replaced the broken spar with another
jib-boom we had; for all ships carry spare spars against emergencies.

The cause of this accident, which came near being the death of all on
board, was nothing but the drowsiness of the look-out men on the
forecastles of both ships. The sailor who had the look-out on our vessel
was terribly reprimanded by the mate.

No doubt, many ships that are never heard of after leaving port, meet
their fate in this way; and it may be, that sometimes two vessels coming
together, jib-boom-and-jib-boom, with a sudden shock in the middle watch
of the night, mutually destroy each other; and like fighting elks, sink
down into the ocean, with their antlers locked in death.

While I was at Liverpool, a fine ship that lay near us in the docks,
having got her cargo on board, went to sea, bound for India, with a good
breeze; and all her crew felt sure of a prosperous voyage. But in about
seven days after, she came back, a most distressing object to behold.
All her starboard side was torn and splintered; her