Straining against the wheel, Long John Long listened with wonder, thinking the man a bloody fool with his false pride spewing from his mouth like the black blood of a dragon. “Men,” she said under her breath, for the cabin boy was a girl, as surely you have guessed by now. She was on the cusp of the change and bound her wee breasts with a linen strap, but for ere else could easily be mistaken for a boy. “Men and their vanity, as if every jack was a stalwart son of the King. And where was he now? Could James himself still the heavens and escape such a storm?”
That night, the fire came and danced across the waves, leapt upon the deck, and tarried upon the spars, slipping up the rigging not yet torn to shreds. What the Greeks called Castor and Pollux and the French name Saint Elmo’s, and every sailor knows the light foretells the changing of a storm and a shift in fortune. Friday, the sixth day of the storm, the morning revealed their fortunes had turned indeed, and for the worse. Listing to starboard, the Sea Venture groaned once and nearly all hope was dead. The captains and pilots clambered to the decks and bellowed orders to unrig the ship and throw o’er everything that threatened to pull them down. Trunks and other luggage were cast into the sea. Hogsheads of oil and cider and butts of small beer were staved and the barrels heaved away, and with a sigh, she lifted and righted.
“Lad, we are near finished.” Ravens clapped a hand on Jane’s back. They stood side by side at the stern, watching a cask of wine bob over the waves. “Cap’n Newport would have us chop down the mainmast, and surely, without sail, we would founder should this wind ever abate.”
Two gentlemen and a lady joined them for a moment’s respite at the rail. They were discussing among themselves how much of the sea had been pumped through the ship since the storm had begun, with Mr. Strachey arguing forcefully that the crew had quitted at least one hundred tons of water. The morning was nearly spent, and in the fabric of the storm clouds small holes and tears appeared, letting in a weak sun. One of the gentlemen passed an open bottle of spirits down the line, and even Jane drank deeply. This is my final hour, thought she, and I will take my leave of this world and steady on for the next. She cast her eyes upon her fellow passengers, all salt-sick and sore, hungry and thirsty, spent beyond endurance. As in a dream of no end, they had baled and pumped till the ropes and sinews of their arms and legs felt stretched and snapped. Even the crew, seasoned mariners all, wearied of the unending tasks and made ready to shut hope in the hatches and commend their souls to the sea. A pair of ladies sat in the corner and wept, and only Somers remained on watch through the wretched morning. ’Twas well after ten of the clock when the admiral leapt to his feet and cried out, “Land!”
All rushed forward to see the spot he had claimed, and there beyond the waves, a lump of earth appeared, and soon enough the very tops of the trees danced in the breeze. Jane went up the rigging with Mr. Chard to unfurl the sail, thanking God the while that the captain had not prevailed in his unholy plan to chop down the mainmast. The lead line was thrown and seven fathoms called, and when next ordered, the depth had fallen to four fathoms. The Sea Venture barreled to the shore, and Somers itched to run her aground to safety, when the ship hit white water a half-mile out and crashed into a reef, and she braked. Men, women, and all not tied down lurched pell-mell about the deck to the terrible wrenching roar of timber caught fast in the ragged coral. She would not go now no matter which way the wind did blow. Jane raced belowdecks to see the water pouring through the gash like blood from new wounds.
“We are bitten and will be chewed by the wind and the tide,” said Frobisher. “As sure as a dog fastens to a bone, this ship will never come undone.”
“Murtherin’ God,” said Edward Chard. “To be so close and yet so far.”
Great moaning prayers rose from the men and women, cries of despair and shock, and then as one, the company shoved aforedecks, bound for the ship’s boat, a panic racing from person to person, be they gentleman or sailor.
Aready at skiff Master Ravens, saber drawn against assays. “We’ll none of that, my good cur, but wait for orders from the admiral.”
Somers parted the crowd and restored order. Eight mariners were commanded to man the oars, and the passengers arranged by class and taken over the water to the shore, the gentlemen and ladies first. Those who stayed on board cursed their lot, but once the little skiff turned back and beat against the waves, a sense of relief accompanied it. Over the course of that afternoon, one and all were transported, and then the men came back for the ship’s stores, what seeds and provisions once bound for Virginia, the unspoilt food and drink, even the ship’s dog, Crab, tho he be anything but crabby, made safe. Jane was among the last, arms thrown around the mastiff’s neck as they were rowed the half-mile, but even with all her might, she could not stop the beast from leaping into the surf, desperate at last for land and deliverance from their deathly ordeal.
“A dog,” the old man interrupted her. “A dog is the very man for displays of vertiginous exuberance. You can read their nature in their wagging tails.”