CHAPTER III.

Days and weeks passed on, until we were in the latitude of the Rio de la Plata. So mild and pleasant had been the weather, that I was half inclined to believe this voyage indeed was to be an exception to all previous ones; although often, when expressing myself delighted with the continuance of such lovely weather, the exuberance of my feelings would be somewhat checked by repeated assurances from my husband that I should see it “rough enough” off Cape Horn to compensate for all previous calms.

Suddenly the aspect of affairs changed, and we encountered a terrific storm, the bare recollection of which almost makes me shudder. The ship’s cabin was a house upon deck; and, as the storm increased in violence, the angry waves dashing higher and higher as each successive blast lashed the mighty deep, fears were entertained that the house would be forcibly detached from the deck. Heavy shutters were fastened against the windows as a protection to the glass against the storm, thereby rendering the cabin dark as night. A lantern was kept burning through the day, as well as by night. Owing to the violent motion of the ship, I was compelled, for the most part of the time, to keep my berth, to prevent being dashed against the cabin walls. I very reluctantly consented to confine myself to my state-room, but not, however, until I had received some severe bumps. So violent and sudden were those jerks, that, unless one was very much guarded, they would be thrown very unceremoniously from their seat.

Oh, it was terrible to lie so many hours listening to the roaring of the storm without! I wished very much to get a glimpse of the ocean when lashed into such fury, but there was no aperture whereby I could gratify my curiosity. I had only to pray, and listen alone. My husband was constantly on deck, taking neither refreshment nor sleep. I wondered not at his anxiety, although I knew not then the imminent danger impending from fire as well as water; for, the second morning after the commencement of the storm, smoke had been discovered between decks. The alarming truth instantly flashed upon our minds. The gas that originated from the coal had generated fire. Orders were immediately given to get up provisions and water sufficient to last until we could be released from our awful situation. While thus engaged, several of the men were rendered senseless from the effects of the gas. They next proceeded to close the hatches, and caulked every seam tightly, in the hope of arresting the progress of the fire it was impossible to extinguish.

Captain B---- shaped his course for the nearest land--the Falkland Islands, which were eight hundred miles distant. During this time, the severity of the gale was such, it compelled me to remain in the cabin; and for three days I remained in ignorance of our perilous situation. During this interval, the air in the cabin was ever impregnated with a strong odor of tar. This was accounted for to me in this light,--the cook was boiling tar, as they were obliged to make use of a great deal at such times. That, of course, looked very reasonable, and served the purpose of concealment from me of the fire. It is true the countenances of my husband and officers bore unmistakable traces of anxiety; but this I readily attributed to the violence of the gale, which threatened every moment to engulf us.

I also noticed the steward caulking some of the seams in the pantry. Upon inquiry, he gave me to understand it was necessary to use this precaution, to prevent any liquids he should chance to spill from running down on the cargo,--a foolish excuse, to be sure; but, however, it proved effective. But, when the gas and smoke escaped through seams which were apparently water-tight, and made its appearance in the cabin, concealment was no longer possible.

Upon learning the sad truth, for a time all fortitude and self-control forsook me. I thought of my dear old home far away, in its quiet seclusion; of the loved ones wont to assemble there to talk and pray for the safety of the absent one. I felt I should never more behold them, and that they would ever remain in ignorance of our fate. After the first moments of despair, Hope again asserted her empire. Repinings, I reasoned, were useless. The Almighty hand which formed the channels of the deep had power, I knew, to preserve us, and guide us, amidst storm and darkness, to our homes and havens of rest. The greatest consternation prevailed among the crew. At times the gale would abate, only to be renewed with increased violence. We were soon obliged to vacate the cabin, which was filled to suffocation with gas; and, for five consecutive days and nights, I remained in a chair which was lashed to the deck. It was quite cold, and often I was drenched with the water and spray that would dash at short intervals across the deck. Never can I forget those dreary days of suffering that I sat gazing from the narrow deck upon the boundless expanse of tossing, foam-crested billows. As far as eye could reach, no friendly sail appeared to which we could look for safety; nothing was seen but the sweeping surge, as it came roaring and dashing on, threatening to overwhelm us. In such an hour man learns of God, and witnesses proof of his grandeur and power in every dashing wave; he sees nature in one of its grandest aspects.

If possible, the nights exceeded in anxiety the days; impenetrable darkness surrounded us, relieved only by sheets of white foam dashing over the bows, as the doomed ship madly plunged into the angry waters. When one sea more powerful than another would strike her, causing her to tremble in every timber, I would grasp my chair, shut my eyes, and think we were fast being engulfed in the sea. Oh, those nights of agony! Never, through all the vicissitudes of after life, will one thought, one feeling, then endured, fade from the volume of memory.

Each day the ship was getting hotter; gas and smoke were escaping at every seam. We constantly feared an explosion, as the natural consequence of so much confined gas. What a solace to me, in those days of trial, was the trust, the implicit confidence, I felt in that mighty Guardian Power that is ever around and about us, and in whose protection we are forever safe!

On the twelfth day after fire was first discovered, we made the Falkland Islands. As we approached the Volunteer Rocks, which make off two miles from land, gloomy and forbidding as were their appearance, I hailed them as harbingers of safety. Truly it must have been the sunshine, the grateful happiness of the heart, which clothed those barren rocks with imaginary beauty--I had almost said reverence.