Delaware Gazette

For the Young there is quite a vivid description, written by a lady contributor, of a scene of peril in the Indian Ocean. We make the following extracts:

The ship was always very quiet between the services on Sundays. In the afternoon there was a class for the children, and in the evening a third service was held in the forecastle for the sailors. Thus the time glided on into weeks, and into months, before the early days of December found us steaming out of the open road of Madras. We had only arrived a few hours before, but the surf was running so high that no one attempted to land except those whose journey ended there. Our captain was anxious to be off and away to sea again, for the barometer was falling every moment, and these shores are most dangerous in bad weather. Never have I seen such a wonderful sunset as made the western heavens glorious that evening. No picture that ever was painted, no words which exist, can show it to you. It was impossible to look at it without a feeling of awe as well as of admiration. Great banks of clouds lay piled in crimson and purple masses along the horizon, every here and there was a wide rift in their glowing depths, beyond which lay a calm, lovely glimpse of what one felt must be heaven, with its floor of a clear dazzling blue, melting away into a wonderful pale green tint impossible to describe. The shape of these cloud Alps changed, as we gazed, from a lofty mountain range into a battlemented city, with spires and minarets and domes rising behind the aerial walls. Then spectre forms of knights and men-at-arms loomed like phantom giants out of the lurid fleecy mass, and we held our breath at what looked like the reflection of a fierce battle in the sky, changing in its turn into strange shapes of monsters, compared with which the gigantic animals which inhabited the world before the Flood must have been harmless pets!

I remember feeling half provoked with the captain, and, indeed, with all the officers of the ship, for not sharing in my enthusiasm: they looked, it is true, at the splendid changing tints which were reflected over half the sky, but their glances showed no admiration, nothing but anxiety, and I heard one sailor say, "It's the illest sight that ever I did see; there's a blow brewing, or I'm a lubber." But it seemed as if they were wrong in their foreboding, for we had a dull cloudy day on the morrow. Yet there was a heavy, oppressive feeling in the atmosphere, and the waves heaved restlessly; the barometer fell lower and lower, and more anxious grew the looks which were cast up aloft, and all round the horizon. Sunset brought yet more glowing orange and scarlet to mingle with the purple and crimson tints repeated over the steadily-increasing bank of clouds to the northwest. Our eyes were so dazzled by the coloring, we could hardly look at it for more than a moment at a time. I heard the grim old quartermaster mutter, "Oh yes, it's all very well to say, 'How pretty it is!' ye mayn't ever see another, pretty or ugly, I'm thinking!" This was in answer to the openly expressed admiration of one of the passengers.— About midnight both the wind and the sea rose, but when I came on deck after breakfast, I was quite surprised to see the preparations for bad weather which were going on in every direction. To use a nautical expression, things were being "made snug," and the carpenter was busy fastening down hatchways by nailing sails and tarpaulins securely over them. Up aloft every sail was furled, and the upper yards were lowered; the ship was scudding along under steam, and there was an indescribably angry look both in sea and sky. As for the waves, they looked as if they were made of mud instead of water, and the sky matched them exactly. Another thing struck me unpleasantly was that, instead of the beautiful boundless vault of blue heavens, with a light cloud flecking it here and there, to which we had so long been accustomed, there weighed down and enfolded us a dense thick mist, which was neither rain nor cloud; it seemed as if the sky was sinking down and crushing us. Through this vapor we could hardly discern anything. As the day wore on, we heard minute guns firing on our starboard quarter, telling of some ship in dire distress, but we had enough to do to take care of ourselves, for although we seemed to have been working hard at our preparations for many hours, the storm was upon us, or rather we had steamed into it, before we were half ready. Of course among so many passengers were several fond of finding fault with everything, giving advice to the captain, and the chief engineer, and the sailing master, and even to the men at the helm; but people were too busy to listen to them, so they grumbled and argued away at a great rate among themselves, and were quite happy. I rather think that the ship herself was not one to inspire confidence in her officers, and therefore, instead of having any time to spare in making preparations for bad weather, which might have come within reach of our observation, they were occupied in more serious repairs. For instance, all our boats were still hanging low down on the davits, as is customary in fine weather, and long before we had really got into the centre of the cyclone, every boat was crushed as flat as if it had been an eggshell. The wiseacres made a great fuss about this, and said, "What should we do, if the worst came to the worst, without any boats?" But, dear me, all the boats in existence would not have been of any use to us? No boat could have lived a moment in such a sea: and perhaps it may give you some idea of the noise when I tell you that I was clinging tightly on to the rigging, and looking over the side of the ship, when one boat was "stove in," and I assure you I hardly heard the sound of the crashing timber; there was only a cracking sound, and I saw quantities of small bits of painted wood floating about for a second or two; that was the last of the boat, and the others went in the same way. But all this was a very faint foreshadowing of what was before us. However, as I never was allowed to come on deck after the first day of danger, I may as well tell you what I saw and heard before I went below. First we will begin at the helm; four stout, sturdy sailors stood there—two of them experienced quartermasters—securely lashed to the wheel, for even by this time the sea was breaking over the deck every few minutes, and so dense was the atmosphere that you could not see when a wave was coming. I have been in gales when the ship has seemed to be racing with the billows, flying gaily over them, and just as you thought she must be caught by a great mountain of water which was curling itself up high above her, she would swiftly glide up the steep incline of another wave, and hurry out of her pursuer's reach, so that only the spray from its snow-white crest reached us in a sparkling shower bath.

A STRANGE EXCITEMENT.

There is something very exhilarating in such a scene, and the excitement is intense; but in this cyclone it was very different, just like the contrast between blows in play and in earnest. Here the waves hit the ship hard, vicious thumps, as if they hated her and longed to crush her to pieces; she poor thing, groaned and labored heavily, going down into a gloomy, dun-colored abyss of water, where she shivered and shuddered, straining every timber, and creaking at every plank, as if she really could not manage to get up again, and intended to give in and settle quietly at the bottom of the sea; then, when she had wearily dragged herself up to the top of a huge wave, it was only to plunge into another water-valley, and so on. Every now and then a great body of water would fall heavily on the deck, but so thick and murky was the atmosphere that we could not see it coming. A wall of some dun-colored vapory substance loomed over us, but whether it was air or water no one could tell until it flooded us. Up to this point, however, I don't believe there was any reason for thinking hopelessly of our condition; but by the third day things began to look very bad, and the captain and sailors wore gloomy and anxious faces.— My last few hours on deck before I went below were so disastrous that I had no wish to disobey orders, and venture out of the saloon again. The first misadventure which befell me will probably only make you laugh, though I did not think it in the least amusing at the time.

To begin at the beginning, however: When breakfast time came on this dreary third day, there was no breakfast! All night the sea had been breaking heavily over that part of the ship where the cook's "galley," or kitchen stood, and it was found impossible to keep the fire alight for five minutes; we had some dry biscuits given to us, and those who liked it might have claret, but I thought this last a very poor substitute for my nice refreshing cup of tea or coffee; so just before I went on deck, I discovered a tiny little bit of a cake of preserved soup, and I gave it to one of the stewards, with a lamp heated by spirit of wine, and asked him to make me a basin of soup. As soon as I appeared on deck I was led to my own chair, which was securely lashed in a safe place, and there I was comfortably established, but I had to be fastened into it like a baby with a rope around my waist. There seemed, even to my ignorant eyes, a great change for the worse since the evening before. The ship was laboring much more heavily, and lurching fearfully; the sea was whipped to a froth all around us; the heavy curtain of dun mist clung closer to us, shutting out everything at a few yards' distance; from time to time, as the squalls caught us over on our beam ends, I could hear the wind literally shrieking with a sound as distinct as a railway-whistle, only more like a scream. You can have no idea how awful it was, and I confess to feeling thoroughly frightened, but still, when I chanced to turn my head and saw my faithful little steward coming carefully and steadily along the deck towards me, I took comfort at the thought of my nice soup. It was sometime before he reached me, and I cannot imagine how he contrived to keep his footing, and also to carry the basin, for I constantly saw the sailors creeping along on all fours as the quickest and easiest way of getting about.— When the steward reached me he held on very tightly to a friendly belaying pin, put the soup-basin, with its lid on, carefully down upon my lap, and shouted out some directions to me, not one word of which could be heard, although the man was quite close to me. He put his hands up to his mouth like a trumpet, and bellowed a sentence in my ear, of which I heard the one word "spoon," so as there was no spoon, I thought he was apologizing for not having brought one, and nodded and smiled, as much as to say, "Never mind:" then, as I was desperately hungry, I lifted my precious basin up to my lips, and when it was quite close to them, I took off the cover; there was a delicious smell of soup, and I felt a sharp burn on my nose that was all! The soup had been blown clean out of the basin which was as dry and empty as if it had just been washed, and there was no more soup to be had. The poor little steward had been trying to caution me against this very misfortune, but I could not hear him. Whenever the captain wanted to give an order he bellowed it through his speaking trumpet, and even then it could hardly be heard if the sailors were a few yards off. He came up to me, and shouted in my ear, "You had better go below, and don't come up here again." I was very humble and wretched, so I nodded, but I thought to myself "How am I to get down? I can't untie myself, and if I could, how is it possible to crawl to the top of the companion-ladder? However, the waves soon settled that question for me by breaking once more over the ship, tearing my chair from its lashings, and floating it and me along down the deck. At one time I thought I should have been washed overboard, and so did those who saw me, but fortunately, at the most critical moment the water ran out of the scuppers, and the chair and I dropped heavily down on the deck. I saw two or three sailors coming toward me as well as they could, but they had quite enough to do, poor fellows, without looking after lady passengers, so I managed to creep out of my many shawl-wraps, and crawled to the head of the companion-ladder, and so down to my cabin, where I lay on a mattress on the floor, feeling extremely miserable. I was wet through, and it was quite impossible to get any dry things out of my boxes, for they were jammed up in a corner under the berth, and fastened on by a board to keep them from sliding out of their places. I felt a violent pain in my chest, and no wonder, for the pin of my brooch had been driven about half an inch into it, and then broken off; a painful business it was to get that piece of pin out!

Heavily down below. All the skylights were fastened securely up, so were the strong shutters (or "dead lights," as they are called) to the cabin port-holes, and we were in utter darkness, except for the glimmer of an oil lamp in the passage. Most of the passengers left their cabins and preferred to lie on mattresses in this sort of long corridor, I suppose for the sake of company, but they looked very wretched; some were groaning, some were crying, some were praying, all were frightened, as well they might be! The heat and close smell of the crowded saloon and passage were quite overpowering, and I preferred remaining in my own cabin on the floor crawling out on my hands and knees once or twice a day to get a little biscuit and claret: there was nothing else to be had.

Upon one of these excursions, I discovered that the most-constant and piercing of all the shrieks came from a fat old French lady, who yelled at the pitch of her voice every time the ship lurched more heavily than usual, but the instant she righted again, before giving another roll, madame regained her composure, elegant manners, and turning with a smile to her fellow sufferers, observed in excellent French, "Excuse me, but such moments as these are so very embarrassing!" Scarcely had she finished her little apology than the ship lurched and she set up a still louder scream than before.

At last Christmas dawned upon us, but what a contrast to our previous happy ones, for which we all felt we had not been half thankful enough! I thought if my own dear little boys could have seen their mother's, how shocked they would have been. I pictured them to myself in their lovely English country home, thinking and talking of me on that day, and saying, "Mamma is safe on shore now." And there was I, and some three hundred souls besides, tossing about in a water-logged vessel, without masts, without a rudder, steering by some sort of rude contrivance, with broken engines and with the pumps going day and night to keep us afloat.— The sky had not cleared for one brief instant during all these weary days to allow us to take an observation and find out where we were, and we could not see a yard before us. The gale showed signs of abating, or we were blundering out of its circle: but the sea was running mountains high. All through the day and night we could hear the hoarse cry of "Breakers ahead!" or else "Breakers on the port bow!" or else "Breakers on the starboard bow!" according to the way we helplessly turned, hoping to find a way out of our difficulties. We could now hear the loud shouts of the sailors, for the wind was moderating a good deal, though the weather was just as thick. Our provisions were running short; for many days the supply of biscuit had been exhausted, and we were thankful for whatever odds and ends the purser and his assistants could fish up out of the store-room, but as that was half full of water almost everything in it was spoiled.

Christmas day was sad enough and dismal enough, but Christmas night was worse. Ever since the beginning of the storm no one has been able to sleep on account of the incessant uproar of the winds and waves, to which was added an equally terrible creaking and straining of the vessel's timbers. Mingled with these sounds were shouts, screams, and at first constant crashing of glass and china; but very soon that came to an end, for the last of our plates and dishes were reduced to fragments, only fit to be thrown overboard. And here I must tell you that in the worst part of the cyclone some of the passengers actually held a meeting, all the members squatting on the floor, and passed with great formality and gravity, many votes of condemnation; among others, one upon the unhappy carpenter for not making a box big enough to hold all the glass and china in the ship, so as to prevent its being broken! Poor man! he had quite enough to do to timber up the ship, without looking after the glass or china; he was in constant requisition, and the last I saw of him he was lying huddled up in a sort of recess under the companion ladder, having had his foot frightfully crushed when he was down in the hold, trying to keep the cargo within bounds. However, to return to that Christmas night. Everything was in the same state as usual—that is, we were in hourly expectation of the ship either foundering or going to pieces on a rock; and yet many of us were dozing, quite worn out, with nearly a fortnight of sleeplessness, excitement, hunger, and misery.

I was lying on a mattress on my cabin floor, and in that next to mine were a lady and her two grown up daughters. They had been very quiet and composed all through these trying days, and I often congratulated myself on having such good neighbors. It was therefore, the more alarming to hear on Christmas night the most piercing shrieks from their cabins preceded however, by a crashing sound. I felt sure there was something really the matter, and sprang up to try to get to their assistance. Before I could make my way from my cabin to theirs, the screams had been supplemented by wild yells from the rest of the passengers, who shouted out every conceivable variety of bad, not to say impossible, news, "We've struck on a rock," "There's a hole in Mrs. C.'s cabin, and all the water is coming in," "The ship is breaking up," &c. I saw the most excited gentlemen climbing up on the cuddy table, and trying to pry open the skylight, so as to escape to the deck; fortunately they did not succeed in their absurd attempts, or we should have had the next sea down upon us, to add to our misery. Others were struggling and fighting towards the companion ladder, to get up that way.

Amid all this din I reached poor Mrs. C.'s cabin, where the doctor had already arrived. The truth was bad enough, without false reports of evil. Mrs. C. managed to wedge herself into her berth by pillows, preferring that to a mattress on the floor; above her sleeping place was a heavy sort of locker, about the size and shape of half a chest of drawers; this was secured by large iron clamps to the side of the ship, but the incessant rolling and straining had so loosened its fastenings that one lurch heavier than the others opened the clamps wide enough to allow the great screws and nails to give way, and the heavy mass fell down, but the ship was keeling over so much that, instead of falling on Mrs. C., who was just beneath it, the locker only struck her one blow as it rolled over on the floor. The blow, however, shattered her arm, besides breaking her collar-bone in two places. It was her daughters' shrieks that we had heard, for the poor lady herself was quite insensible. The doctor was nearly in despair; here was a critical and delicate surgical operation to be performed in almost total darkness, and with no possibility of keeping steady for two minutes. He was a skillful little man, however, and up to any emergency, so he issued his orders in a very decisive manner. First, he turned all the idlers out of the cabin, laying his patient on a mattress on the floor; then he said to one of her daughters, "Break up that box for splints," pointing to a wooden box. Turning to me he cried, "Tear up something for bandages." I looked around; there was absolutely nothing which would do for the purpose until my eyes fell upon a blue ribbon trimming on a dress; it was just the thing we wanted—the right width, and strong as well as soft. So I set to work, rather roughly, I am afraid, and ripped and tore away until I had collected an immense quantity. His next order to me sounded perfectly simple, but oh, it was so difficult! "Hold a lantern steadily, for me to see what I am doing." I felt the despair, but seated myself close to him, clutching tight hold of the side of the berth with one hand, and holding up the lantern as steadily as I could with the other; but, in spite of all my efforts, every lurch of the ship dashed the lantern against

The next evening just as we were making up our minds for another night of darkness and discomfort, we heard above the roar of the sea the report of a gun close by. We answered it by sending up a blue light, to show where we were, and in a few moments the stately hull of a splendid large ship loomed out of the fog close to us. All night she kept near, blowing her steam and letting off blue lights. We burned one regularly every hour, and as soon as the day dawned she fired rockets with a rope attached to the stick, until we managed to get hold of one, when she took us in tow, and on the fourth day after Christmas we entered the Hooghly in the wake of our big friend. We had no masts, and looked the waterlogged wreck we were. This ship had been sent out to look for us, and there was another vessel cruising in the South Channel (we were found by the Hesperus in the North Channel on the same charitable errand. The whole population of Calcutta seemed to have turned out on the river's banks to look at us as we made our lopsided way up Garden Reach: the last lurch had shifted the coal and cargo, and we weighed down almost to the water's edge on one side. Every passenger had to bewail the loss of his luggage, for if it was not pounded into little bits, the boxes were full of bilge-water. My own clothes looked as if they had been packed in ink, and were utterly ruined; but we were all so glad to escape with our lives, that we did not fret about our possessions. On the Sunday after our arrival there was a special service in the Cathedral, which all the rescued crew and passengers attended, and very thankful we felt, especially when it was ascertained that many ships had been lost in that cyclone in the Bay, and that of all those then due at Calcutta, ours was only one which had reached its destination.