Voyage of the Destroyer from New York to Brazil | Page 3

caulk some of them with cotton waste, and plug others with pine wood.
We signal the tug boat to go ahead, that we are "all right." We are out of the first danger!
A stout canvas bag is made now, one that will hold a barrel of water. A derrick at the hatch is also rigged for a hoisting purchase. Hardly is this done, when sorely needed. All night long, (Saturday), this bag is hoisted and emptied by eight pairs of strong arms. The rest of the people on board are driving the steam pumps, and repairing defective valves and making new ones, all as fast as they can. The cook, throughout the storm, prepares warm coffee for all hands. There are no idlers around these days of storm and toil. The steam pumps after a while are working again all right; then a long pull and a strong pull at the big canvas bucket along with the pump for a matter of four hours more, without a rest, and the ship has free bilges once more.
December 10th, 11th, 12th and 13th are days like those just gone, and ones to come of incessant care, anxiety and toil. The sea runs more regularly, though, as we proceed southward, nearing the regions of the trade winds, which is at least some respite. And although destined to disappointment when we shall actually meet them, the all expected fine weather of the "trades" stands before all on board as a beacon of hope. No energy is spared to "reach the trades."
The water in the hold is kept down from one to three feet. Occasionally a rolling suck is gained, which in our joy of it, we call free bilge. Great quantities of water goes over the ship. She washes heavily, still, going often under the seas, like a great duck, fond of diving. Everything is wet. There is not a dry place in the entire ship! We are most literally sailing under the sea.
The Destroyer comes out of the storm today (13th), decked from the top of smokestack to bottom of the lifelines in Saragossa weeds or flowers. All along the man-ropes fore and aft, are hanging in clusters, these flowers of the sea: a rare and beautiful sight!
The good Swede, Ericsson, whom we all know, conceived the Destroyer, a ship to turn navies topsy turvy. This, the first one of the kind, was intended for harbor defense and to remain on the coast at home. It was a Yankee, so I believe, who guessed that she could be taken to another hemisphere: and here we are well on the way with her, already "across the Gulf," the great bugbear of the voyage. All of her seagoing qualities are tested, we know what they are. The Destroyer laughs at the storm, hut her sailors cry "shame, shame" on some folk now snug ashore. The solvent sea leaves nothing undone in its work, and Neptune abhors a skim. Putty and paint put in the seams I don't know when, or by whom, washes out like clay, and poor clay at that.
December 13th comes in with storm and cross sea.
We suffer!
The fires are threatened by water again up to the bars. Pumping and bailing goes on together again all night. The tug upon our signal slows down and heads to the sea, that we may again free the ship of water and plug up more leaks, which we search for now as keenly as one would look for precious gems.
Later in the day, the sea goes down somewhat. The tropical storm was short. Coal and water, under great difficulties, were procured from the Santuit to-day. Also some carbolic acid is procured, with which to wash a dangerous wound. Assistant Engineer Hamilton, an oldish man, becoming exhausted in the storm last night, fell backwards down the engine room hatch, receiving a fearful gash clean across his bald pate which had to be herring-boned together. The wound was dressed, and Hamilton, made easy, was stowed away till further comforts could be given.
One Thomas Brennan, the stoker, who complained of roast turkey in the storm, mentioned before, showing frequent signs of mutiny, refused to mind the fires, as directed by Hamilton, his watch officer, before the accident. Brennan kicked Hamilton, when no one was by to interfere, then jumping upon the old man, bit him on the face like a wild beast. My sailors are exceptionally good seamen; up to the standard of manliness in many ways. If the sea could be rid of all such brutes as this Brennan, good sailors would be happy. His case will be attended to later on.
December 14th, the ship is heading for Mona Passage, no great distance away.
The trade winds are very strong and a heavy cross sea is encountered as we near