South of Darkness by John Marsden

Author:John Marsden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pan Macmillan Australia
Published: 2014-09-08T16:00:00+00:00

I had been developing quite a keen interest in the creatures of the sky and ocean and picking up fragments of information about them, principally from Chris Norfolk and Pierre De Lafontaine. The wild creatures were of course best observed in calm weather, such as we had enjoyed until, as I say, some three weeks into our voyage, when the wind picked up and the waves became more choppy. Thunderous grey clouds began to amass in the sky, and I could see flickers of lightning dancing among them. I heard the distant mumbling of thunder and started to feel apprehensive.

As the wind got higher, the crew were called upon to reef the mainsail. No fewer than fifteen men swarmed over the main yard, reefing it with the greatest industry and energy. One poor fellow, though, had his hand shockingly injured; he hung on to a rope that was loosened, but his hand was then trapped in a belaying pin; his knuckles were torn off and his fingers terribly cut. It seems that among sailors, however, any weakness is seen as intolerable. Cuts and bruises and heavy knocks are ignored, and even this fellow, with his hand mutilated and his face white with shock and loss of blood, appeared of stoical disposition as he hurried past me on his way to the surgeon.

The wind built up further and the temperature dropped rapidly. The ship began to roll more and more, and we were ordered to make haste down the ladders to our quarters. It was as well we did. Already a quantity of water had poured through the hatchway, and as I descended the ladder a vast rush of it engulfed me, almost knocking me from my perch. My legs lost their footing, and my right hand lost its grip, but somehow my left hand managed to cling to a rung with enough tenacity for me to recover my position once the bulk of the water had passed.

I staggered to my hammock. All around me were anxious questions from those who had not been on deck, whilst others were clearly suffering the first spasms of seasickness. My teeth were chattering too much for me to join in the conversation; I wrapped myself in my blanket and lay in my hammock shivering as the ship tossed frantically from side to side. Further down the cabin I could see Chris Norfolk’s nervousness manifesting itself in his customary response. I turned my eyes from the sight.

Thus began a storm which raged for three days and had us at all times in mortal fear. Time and again the sea swept over the bulwarks, defeating the cook’s attempts to light a fire, with the result that no cooking could be done and we had nothing but dry biscuit to eat. Our portholes were sealed over to prevent their being broken, and the hatches kept shut to prevent the ingress of water, which meant that apart from a couple of lanterns, we lived in perpetual darkness. Yet

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