Chapter XIV

_A calm among the Lipari islands.--Manners of the
crew.--Stromboli.--A natural lighthouse.--A gale
of wind.--Fright of the crew and danger of the
vessel.--Loss of the topmasts, and narrow escape from
shipwreck.--Arrival at Lipari._

Next morning, as I went on deck, I found the wind had died away, and left us becalmed among the Lipari islands. We were close to the island of Stromboli, which looked like the top of a mountain rising out of the water, with the smoke constantly pouring out at the top. All these islands are volcanic, and send forth flame and smoke occasionally, but Stromboli is constantly burning. Notwithstanding this, there are several thousand inhabitants upon it, who live chiefly by fishing. They pass a strange life, constantly pent up between fire and water. All day we lay becalmed, and I amused myself with looking at these curious islands through a spy-glass, and watching the odd behavior of the crew. They were picturesque-looking mortals, as all the Mediterranean sailors are: exceedingly ragged, noisy, and good-humored. When they were not telling stories, or cutting capers, they were sure to be eating. Indeed, there was very little time during the voyage that their jaws were not in motion. The principal food was bread and vegetables. There was a pile of greens on the deck nearly as big as a haycock: it was a species of fennel, which the Italians eat raw. The sailors munched it by handfuls as they went about their work. There was no meat in all the ship’s stores, but now and then a mess of fish was served up to the crew. They drank freely of red wine, but I never saw any one of them intoxicated.

The calm continued through the day and the following night. After dark, the summit of Stromboli began to grow red, and all night long it shot up streams of fire, giving a light that might be seen a great way off. This island is a natural lighthouse, loftier and more efficient than any work ever constructed by man. Volcanoes, with all their danger, are not without their uses.

A little after sunrise, a light breeze sprung up from the north, and by ten o’clock it blew pretty fresh. This was a head wind again, but we preferred it to a calm, as we were enabled to make some progress northward, by tacking. In a few hours, the clouds rose thick in the northwest, and the wind increased to a gale, with a violent chopping sea. We took in sail as fast as possible, but nothing could surpass the confusion and fright of the sailors. They ran fore and aft, as if out of their wits, and instead of pulling the ropes, did little else but cross themselves, fall on their knees, and pray to the Virgin Mary. I began to feel alarmed, though I had seen worse weather than this--and there was really no danger to the vessel with proper care--yet, with a crew half frightened to death, any accident might be the destruction of us all. The captain bawled to the sailors, who paid no attention to him, but bawled to one another, and cried, “_Santissima Vergine! San Gennaro! Santa Rosolio!_” and the names of forty other saints, male and female. My apprehensions became serious when I saw matters growing worse, instead of better. The crew did nothing which they should have done, and the vessel pitched, rolled, and floundered about, at the mercy of the winds and waves. The gale came on in harder gusts than ever; the sea dashed over the bows; and amid the roaring of the storm and the cries of the frightened wretches around me, I began to think it was all over with us. There was, however, one savage-looking fellow among the crew, whose looks gave me some hope: he was a real caitiff in appearance, and was evidently born to be hanged; therefore I concluded he could never be drowned.

Meantime, the masts were bending like twigs under the gale; the rigging was slack and crazy--worse than ever was seen on the clumsiest wood-thumper in Penobscot Bay. I saw it was impossible the spars could hold on much longer, unless the wind went down. Presently the foretopmast snapped short, just above the cap, and went over the side with an awful crash! The main-topmast followed almost immediately, and left us little better than a mere hulk. It is impossible to describe the scene of confusion and terror that followed. The miserable crew lost all courage and self-possession. They threw themselves upon their knees, and called upon the saints to save them. Had they behaved with the least coolness and discretion in the beginning of the gale, they might have guarded against this disaster. For my part, I almost gave myself over for lost; and as to my gallows-looking friend, I am quite certain that he lost for a time all hopes of dying by a rope. In fact, there was not a man in the whole crew but would have given his whole ragged wardrobe for the chance of a dry death. The vessel was now entirely unmanageable, and fell off with her broadside to the wind. A heavy sea came rolling on, and how we escaped being thrown on our beam-ends, I hardly know; but the vessel continued to roll and labor, with the sea dashing over the deck, to such a degree that I expected every moment would be our last. By good fortune at length she fell off still further, and brought her stern to the wind. The crew recovered from their fright sufficiently to attempt doing something to save their lives. With great exertions they got the wrecked spars clear, and set a little sail on the lower masts. By this help we began to scud before the wind. Having once more the vessel under some control, we gathered courage; but the gale was as furious as ever, and the sea increased in violence. We continued to scud for an hour and a half, when the cry of “_terra! terra!_” raised by the whole crew, announced the discovery of land, ahead. Such had been the hurly-burly, confusion, and terror on board, from the beginning of the gale, that not a man of the crew could guess where we were, or what land was in sight. Some thought it was Stromboli, and others imagined it to be the coast of Sicily. I now began to have more fear of the land than of the water, and wished for sea-room. Had there been any shoals in this quarter, we should infallibly have been shipwrecked; but fortunately there were none, as all the coasts have bold shores.

The land was high and mountainous, and we presently made it out to be the island of Lipari, about thirty miles from Stromboli. We steered as close to the island as we dared, and ran under the lee, where the height of the land broke the force of the gale. In this shelter we cast anchor, and found ourselves tolerably safe, with the probability that the gale would blow over in a few hours. I thanked Heaven for our escape; but formed a resolution never to trust myself at sea with Italian sailors again, as long as I had any other means of pursuing my rambles. In the midst of all these dangers, I would have given more for a couple of Yankee cabin boys than for the whole twenty lubbers of our valiant crew.

(_To be continued._)

THE PILOT.

The curling waves with awful roar
A little boat assailed,
And pallid fear’s distracting power
O’er all on board prevailed,--

Save one, the captain’s darling child,
Who steadfast viewed the storm,
And, fearless, with composure smiled
At danger’s threatening form.

“And fear’st thou not?” a seaman cried,
“While terrors overwhelm?”
“Why should I fear?” the child replied,
“My father’s at the helm.”

Thus when our earthly hopes are reft,
Our earthly comforts gone,
We still have one sure anchor left--
God helps, and He alone.

He to our cries will lend an ear,
He gives our pangs relief,
He turns to smiles each trembling tear,
To joy each torturing grief.

Turn, turn to Him, ’mid sorrows wild,
When terrors overwhelm,
Remembering, like the fearless child,
Our Father’s at the helm.

Merry’s Life and Adventures.