Australian Tales - Setis

ugly faces you are making. Yaawk away, sir, you will be better tomorrow,
if you live till then.”
Several of the gentlemen made sombre inquiries of me as to our
position, and if I could see Sydney lighthouse? To which I replied, that I
could see nothing but black clouds and white-headed waves; as to our
position, I could only tell them that we were not far from Broken Bay.
After partaking of a cup of tea, I again went upon the bridge, and there I
stood for some time beside the captain without speaking a word, but
longing for him to speak to me. Presently he said, “There is an awful
ugly sea on.”
“There is, indeed, captain; may I ask if you have any idea of running
back to Newcastle?”
“Back, eh?” he replied; “I dare not put her round; she would almost
certainly capsize with all this load on deck.”
“Why don't you begin to throw it overboard?” I muttered rather
pettishly, but I did not let him hear me. I cannot depict the anxiety I
endured for the next hour as I sat upon that melancholy bridge in silent
meditation, and watched the seething waves which tossed and tumbled
around like monsters preparing to swallow us; while the wind roaring
over the top of the big funnel sounded like grim death playing a funeral
dirge. My mental calculations as to the consequences of a heavy sea
breaking on board (which I momentarily expected), were by no means
encouraging, but I could not school my mind to any more cheerful
exercise just then. There were about fifty bales of hay and wool on deck;
and assuming that each bale would soak up a quantity of water equal to
its weight, and allowing three or four hogsheads for the Bath-chair and
the carriage; I inferred that the vessel would founder before we could
sufficiently lighten her. My second calculation was as to the result, if the
pigs should break down their temporary barrier, and crowd together
under the topgallant forecastle, and thus bring the steamer down by the
head; but I had not quite completed that sum when I was aroused by the
captain calling me. I staggered towards him, and stood holding on by the
fore shroud of the funnel. “Do you see land on the starboard beam?” he
asked.
I gazed into the darkness till my eyes ached, then replied, “No, captain,
I can't see it. Can you?”
“Yes; I see the North Head of Broken Bay.”
“Bless me! what extraordinary eyes you must have. I can see nothing
but thick darkness, like a wall of pitch built up to the sky. Are you going
into the bay, captain?”
“I'll try for it, if I see a chance of putting her round smartly,” he
replied. “Ease her!”
In about half an hour he gave orders for the chain-box to be wheeled
over to port, and lashed there; and soon afterwards he shouted, “Haul the