Swept Out to Sea / Or, Clint Webb Among the Whalers

nd a Most Rem

t-if only a rag of jib-had the gale not been so terrific. I doubted if, under a p

nst such a wind and it was better and safer to ride before it, no matter where I was bl

by the savage wind. But, if there should come a lull in that, I knew well enough the sea would instantly leap into billow

mong the stores I had bought in town the day before, and made a fairly satisfactory breakfast of the hard bread and fruit with a pint can of coffee. Bu

o wind) told me that it was fast approaching noon before any change came

the wind before the waves sprang up. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have given her a hand's breath of the mainsail. Howe

ull; the sloop had already shipped about all the water that was good for

height. This one curled fairly over my head and, looking up and over my shoulder at the gre

ge of water that came inboard. The force of it burst open the slide of the hatch and barrels of water flooded into the cabin. The Wavecrest settl

e would very quickly plunge beneath the surface. I shook out the staysail as well as the jib, but dared not spread too much canvas to the wind which seemed

g about in the cabin, ruining everything. I rigged the little pump amidships and the pipe threw a full stream of bilge across the d

ld have been folly to seek to head her about. She would have rolled helplessly in the trough of the s

morning. I ventured a little more canvas and although the mast and rigging strained loudly, nothing got

ts of the waves. But with a sea running so high there was danger of swamping every moment. I dared not leave the helm for long; to go

before both like a whipped pup. I would not like to say how fast she traveled, for I do

. My teeth were a-chatter, the cold pricked me like needles, and I was altogether very miserable indeed. Often had I been soaked to the skin while on a fishing venture; but there was the pr

eep that when the sloop plunged down the slope of one the rain swept on over my head and only rattled upon my sail. Ragged mas

eyes for some speck to

y the ravenous waves seeking to overtake and swamp me. Ahead I hoped to see the vapor of some steame

ecrest until morning without either food or sleep. To lash the tiller a

cean is in far worse condition, believe me! Not only is he lost, but the elements themselves are contin

reat billow, I beheld something riding the seas not far ahead. For some reason I had not seen the bu

ong. It was not shaped like a ship's hull although it was black and clumsy enough. But immediately

was not, I was almost instantly sure, a vessel of any kind; as the Wavecrest kept on her

t the pilot-whale) I had listened to the stories of old whalemen along the Bolderhead docks, and I was pretty sure that I had sighted one of

was sure. Otherwise it would not have been at the surface so long in such a gale. And being dead, and the seabirds

s, and its condition. The waves were following me as hungrily as ever; at any moment the sloop might be overwhelmed. But once let me get the Wavecrest in the lee

as revealed, lying partly on its side, all of fifty feet from tail to nose. Of course there were no seabirds upon the carcass now, nor did I see the triangular fin of a shark anywh

er. I ran to the canvas and stowed it quickly, then brought the sloop around into the lee of the huge bulk of the whale. I had a broken-shanked

med circle about the sloop, into which the agencies of the gale could not venture. The wind wailed as madly across the sea, and the sea itself, at a