Hurricane! Hurrah! 

by Joseph Bickel ‘39 

 

“All hands on Deck!”, came the cry through the hatch, echoing through the dark dismal hold of the old ship.

From the crashing of the thunder, like the wind through a huge forest, and the rolling of the sea, I knew that we were in the midst of a South Sea hurricane. A thousand-and-one shrieks and groans reached my befuddled ears, as the wind whistled through the rigging, and the very timbers of the ship creaked under the heavy bombardment from the elements.

At that instant I was startled to hear a man’s footsteps approaching, and before I knew it, I was freed from the chains which held me to the large iron ring on the floor. Desiring to know the nature of my freedom, I inquired of the fellow, who replied in some foreign tongue, but I guessed from the tone that they were prayers.

I followed him up the ladder, not with a little difficulty, as my legs were very weak.

Going up through the cabin, I was handed clean breeches and given some hardtack and brandy.

As we emerged upon the deck, I was blinded by a brilliant pink light in the sky, which changed to a pale yellow near the horizon.

The wind had abated somewhat, but the waves were still of mountainous proportions

The mate, the only one able to speak English, informed me that the navigator had been swept overboard and that I was to take his place.

A vision of court-martial and my treason-besmirched name flashed to my mind. But I conceived a plan, whereby I could bring about the capture of these pirates and uphold the prestige of my country’s navy.

I was shown to the antiquated chartroom where I was to make use of the time-worn instruments as best I could. The sun did not come out again that day and the hurrying black clouds reminded me of the apparitions I feared as child. I did very little sleeping that night wondering whether the state of affairs was to prove to my advantage or not. The third day the sun shone forth, and I went to work to figure our position, finding that we had drifted far south of the shipping lanes. As we progressed northward, I occasionally spotted a sail, probably a whaler. Getting nearer to home, I grew more fearful that my plan would be discovered, but the villains gave no hint of suspicion. I knew that the British fleet was somewhere off the western cost of Africa.  But the rest I let up to chance. I continued giving false positions to the captain that every day brought us nearer.

About four weeks after the storm I was awakened during the night by loud talking and commands. Hurriedly making my way to the deck I jumped overboard and trusted to luck that I was not far from the fleet. Luck was with me and after about fifteen minutes, I was picked up by a British Man-of-War. The Pirates were captured easily the next day, proving no match for the British.