The Autobiography of a Journalist, Volume II | Page 8

to me, but all looked up as if I were the shadow of death, I began

to rally them for their seamanship, but got no word of retort from one
of them. "What's the matter with you all?" I said; "you look as if you
had had bad news." "The matter is we are going ashore," said the chief
engineer. "This--fool of a mate has got caught in shore and we can't
make steam enough to hold our own against this wind." I had not
thought of this; I was chafing at the delay and the discomfort to Laura
and the children. What was the worst in the case was still to be known.
The boilers of the steamer were old and rotten, and had been
condemned, and, but for the sharp economy of the Greek steamship
company, would have been out already. The chief engineer, when he
found that the engines at ordinary pressure did not keep the steamer
from, going astern, had tied the safety valve down and made all the
steam the furnaces would make. "If we don't go ahead we are done for
just as much as if we blow up," said he; "for if we touch those rocks not
a soul of us can escape, and we shall touch them if we drift, just as
surely as if we blow up."
I went out of the mess-room with a feeling that it was a dream,--so
bright, so beautiful a day,--we so well, so late from land, and so near to
death! "Bah!" I said to myself. "They are fanciful; the cliffs are still a
couple of miles away, and something will come to avert the wreck." I
went down to the stateroom; Laura and the boy were unable to raise
their heads from extreme sea-sickness, but baby Lisa was swinging on
the edge of her berth, delighted with the motion, and singing like a bird,
in her baby way. I sat down in my berth--there were four berths in each
room--and watched her, and somehow the faith grew in me that we
were not going that way at that time, that the hour had not come; and I
went back to the mess-room to try to inspire confidence in my friends.
The afternoon was now wearing on. Since 10 A.M. we had made no
headway towards our port, and when I looked at the cliffs it was clear
that they were getting nearer, and the wind showed no signs of lulling.
Our only hope lay in being able to drift so slowly that the wind might
fall before we struck, and if that did not take place before nightfall it
probably would not till the next morning. Rationally I understood this
perfectly, but I could not feel that there was imminent danger. I had no
presentiment of death, and nothing that I could do would enable me to

realize the real and visible danger.
The wind never lulled an instant or blew a degree less furiously; it
came still from the blue sky, and still we plunged and buried our bows
and shipped floods at every plunge; the wheels throbbed and beat as
ever, and no one moved on deck. The engineers changed their watches
and the captain unrelieved kept up his to and fro on the bridge. I am
confident that of all the men on board I was the only one who was not
persuaded that death was near. My wife never knew till long after what
the danger had been. We could already see that the water beneath the
cliff was a wild expanse of breakers, coming in and recoiling, crossing,
heaving, surging,--a white field of foam, where no human being could
catch a breath. The waves that swung in before this gale rose in
breakers against the cliff higher than our masts. We might go up in
their spray if we reached the rocks, but no anchor could check our
crawling to doom. To this day I look back with surprise at the complete
freedom, not from fright, but even from a recognition of any real
danger impending over us, which I then felt; it was not courage, but a
something stronger than myself or my own weakness; it was not even a
superstitious faith that I should be preserved from the threatened peril,
but a profound and immovable conviction that the danger was not real;
and the whole thing was to me simply a magnificent spectacle, in
which the apprehension of my shipmates rather perplexed than
unnerved me.
In half an hour more, the captain said, our margin of safety would be
passed,--drifting as we then drifted our stern would try conclusions
with the cliffs of Cephalonia. The sun was going down in a wild and
lurid sky, a few fragments of