superior job of sealing all the hatches with heavy waxed canvas, for he feared that with the holds fully loaded, The Silver Lotus was going to be spending long hours plowing her head beneath some very steep seas.
It was now 10:28 PM, and the sailing master told Lady Yee that he expected severe storm conditions by midnight. At eleven-thirty or thereabouts, he intended to turn the ship into the wind, put two sea anchors off the bow, lower all main sails, loft the storm sails, seal all the cabin hatches, and get down on his knees and pray.
Lady Yee asked after the men, and was told that most would stay strapped in their bunks unless called on deck by some emergency. She was advised to follow their lead. A tight shipâs berth was the safest refuge for the foreseeable future, though she would derive little comfort from it. Having been told that the captain was resting, the sailing master politely requested Lady Yee to wake her husband before the time committed to turn the ship into the wind. She agreed and went back to the cabin. She was pleased to find her husband still sound asleep. She sat
down next to him and quietly watched the meter of his breathing. After a few moments she reached out and gently touched his hand. Though most certainly asleep, he sighed as though relieved of some private burden and a gentle smile came to his lips. Lady Yee looked lovingly at her husband and thought of the trials he had yet to face.
It would take years to compile the total numbers, but it was said that the great monsoon, later named Nike-Chi, killed well over fifteen thousand people in six countries and destroyed coastal property and maritime interests valued at many millions of English pounds sterling. Thirty-nine major cargo vessels had gone to the bottom, and no one had bothered to keep count of the smaller ships lost. In some cases entire fishing fleets simply disappeared, and whole towns were washed out to sea. The bloated bodies of their inhabitants floated on the waves for days, but there were none to gather up their remains for burial, so the creatures of the sea received the bounty.
Within thirty minutes of the first blow, Captain Hammond began to doubt the ability of his ship to survive the ever-increasing size of the endless phalanx of giant waves that crested over the bow. It sometimes felt like one of them might just cleave the ship in half like a stale loaf of bread. It appeared the double-sheeted sea anchors were holding securely, but the whole match depended upon the strength of the keel and its ability to endure radical stresses not normally asked of such a critical member. He had heard of heavily burdened ships simply breaking in two when their sterns were suddenly forced out of the water by a wave sinking the bow in a trough and then not releasing it in time to relieve the stress on the keel. In his mindâs eye, Captain Hammond could visualize this eventuality with every new wall of seawater that broke over the bow, and so could every experienced seaman on board.
This torment went on for three days and nights, sapping all energy and strength from the crew as well as the ship. It was as physically exhausting to lie strapped in oneâs berth as it was to move around, and
only a little less dangerous. Hammond felt blessed that the damage caused by the gale-force winds and towering sea had not so far been too critical, but he expected the fatal blow any minute, and the strain of that anxiety was beginning to show in his features.
As exhaustion set in, some of the crew suffered accidents, which Lady Yee insisted on treating herself. The bosun had reported four men down: one with a broken foot, another with a broken wrist, a third man with a badly cracked head, and a fourth who had been brutally dashed against the shipâs gunwale by a giant wave that almost took him overboard when it left. He was knocked unconscious, and stayed that way for two full hours while blood slowly seeped from his ears. When he came
It was now 10:28 PM, and the sailing master told Lady Yee that he expected severe storm conditions by midnight. At eleven-thirty or thereabouts, he intended to turn the ship into the wind, put two sea anchors off the bow, lower all main sails, loft the storm sails, seal all the cabin hatches, and get down on his knees and pray.
Lady Yee asked after the men, and was told that most would stay strapped in their bunks unless called on deck by some emergency. She was advised to follow their lead. A tight shipâs berth was the safest refuge for the foreseeable future, though she would derive little comfort from it. Having been told that the captain was resting, the sailing master politely requested Lady Yee to wake her husband before the time committed to turn the ship into the wind. She agreed and went back to the cabin. She was pleased to find her husband still sound asleep. She sat
down next to him and quietly watched the meter of his breathing. After a few moments she reached out and gently touched his hand. Though most certainly asleep, he sighed as though relieved of some private burden and a gentle smile came to his lips. Lady Yee looked lovingly at her husband and thought of the trials he had yet to face.
It would take years to compile the total numbers, but it was said that the great monsoon, later named Nike-Chi, killed well over fifteen thousand people in six countries and destroyed coastal property and maritime interests valued at many millions of English pounds sterling. Thirty-nine major cargo vessels had gone to the bottom, and no one had bothered to keep count of the smaller ships lost. In some cases entire fishing fleets simply disappeared, and whole towns were washed out to sea. The bloated bodies of their inhabitants floated on the waves for days, but there were none to gather up their remains for burial, so the creatures of the sea received the bounty.
Within thirty minutes of the first blow, Captain Hammond began to doubt the ability of his ship to survive the ever-increasing size of the endless phalanx of giant waves that crested over the bow. It sometimes felt like one of them might just cleave the ship in half like a stale loaf of bread. It appeared the double-sheeted sea anchors were holding securely, but the whole match depended upon the strength of the keel and its ability to endure radical stresses not normally asked of such a critical member. He had heard of heavily burdened ships simply breaking in two when their sterns were suddenly forced out of the water by a wave sinking the bow in a trough and then not releasing it in time to relieve the stress on the keel. In his mindâs eye, Captain Hammond could visualize this eventuality with every new wall of seawater that broke over the bow, and so could every experienced seaman on board.
This torment went on for three days and nights, sapping all energy and strength from the crew as well as the ship. It was as physically exhausting to lie strapped in oneâs berth as it was to move around, and
only a little less dangerous. Hammond felt blessed that the damage caused by the gale-force winds and towering sea had not so far been too critical, but he expected the fatal blow any minute, and the strain of that anxiety was beginning to show in his features.
As exhaustion set in, some of the crew suffered accidents, which Lady Yee insisted on treating herself. The bosun had reported four men down: one with a broken foot, another with a broken wrist, a third man with a badly cracked head, and a fourth who had been brutally dashed against the shipâs gunwale by a giant wave that almost took him overboard when it left. He was knocked unconscious, and stayed that way for two full hours while blood slowly seeped from his ears. When he came
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