I moved my stool from the wing of the bridge into the pilothouse and sat behind a gla.s.s window. I put my face close to the window to see. There my eyes did not have to squint against the wind and the rain, but the gla.s.s against the black night looked like a dripping panel of polished ebony. I could see nothing. Visions of the other ships ploughing blindly through the mounting seas crossed my mind. Steering just a few degrees off course might bring us right under the bows of the twenty thousand ton Rocky Point. I walked over and glanced into the dimly lit binnacle.

"Mind your course now," I said to the helmsman and, turning to the Chief, I said, "Tell your lookouts to keep watch for collision. We couldn't see a ship till she was right on top of us."

"I already have, sir," the Chief replied.

The night was so bad that I knew the lookouts would be standing huddled at their posts with their backs to the wind. I shrugged my shoulders. Again I checked the compa.s.s. "Well," I thought, "all we can do is steer our course and hope for the best." The rest of the night I remained on the bridge, sometimes nodding on my stool, sometimes vainly trying to peer through the blindfold of the night.

When morning came we found that we had fallen a mile astern of the convoy. I called down to the engine room for an increase of speed. The morning brought no sunlight; it revealed only the slate gray ocean and the tossing ships. The dark sky had been pushed down toward the surface of the sea, and there was only a small margin between the racing tops of the waves and the low scudding clouds. I tapped the barometer with my finger and saw that it was dropping fast.

At six o'clock Mr. Rudd came up to the bridge. He stood in the open wing, his short heavy figure immovable against the wind. For a moment he surveyed the sea and the sky.

"What's the gla.s.s doing?" he asked.

"Falling."

Mr. Rudd motioned to me to come out on the wing of the bridge. When we were out of the hearing of the helmsman he said, "Looks to me as though we were in for a typhoon."

"I think so too," I replied.

We both stared below at the well deck, which with each roll and pitch of the ship was flooded with white water. As we stood there, the ship mounted a particularly high sea. She paused, then hurtled downward. The bow cushioned itself in the trough, and the whole vessel shuddered.

"This is no ship to ride out a typhoon," said Mr. Rudd. "Any chance of turning back?"

For a few moments I considered, then called Flags and told him to signal the commodore. "Just say, 'Request permission to seek shelter,'" I told him.

While Flags was signaling I went into the chart room and consulted the charts. We were still not far from Luzon. A hundred and forty-three miles, I figured, from the nearest harbor. From the wing of the bridge I could hear the clicking of the blinker light. There was a long pause, and the clicking was resumed. In a moment Flags came into the chart room.

"The commodore wants to know if we are experiencing difficulty," he said.

Taking a pad from the drawer, I wrote an answer for Flags to send. "Experiencing no serious difficulty at present moment," I wrote, and added, "Believe indications of increased bad weather warrant our seeking shelter." Handing the paper to Flags, I went out and stood by Mr. Rudd while the message was sent.

"The b.a.s.t.a.r.d ought to know what I mean," I said. Suddenly I wanted more than anything in the world to change course for Luzon. All night I had been bracing myself to face a typhoon, and now there was suddenly offered a chance to escape. I went back into the chart room and figured out the course to San Fernando. Just when I had finished, Flags came in and handed me a piece of paper on which he had written the commodore's reply.

"If you are experiencing no difficulty, maintain your present course and speed. If you are experiencing difficulty, exercise your own judgement."

"The b.a.s.t.a.r.d's hedging!" I said. I crunched the paper in my hand. It was wet and made a small spongy ball in my palm. I threw it overboard. An impulse to call out the new course to San Fernando parted my lips, but I shut my mouth. I deliberated.

"What the h.e.l.l," I said. "Let's keep going."

Mr. Rudd grinned. "All right," he said. "We'll see what happens."

"Maybe the commodore has weather reports," I said hopefully. "Maybe he doesn't think there is going to be a typhoon."

"Maybe not," said Mr. Rudd. "I'm going down and secure everything around the engine room just the same."

He left the bridge. I watched him go down the companion-way and, leaning against the wind, push his way across the wet deck. When he opened the door to the pa.s.sageway below the wind caught it, and he wrestled with it as I had. Just before he disappeared inside he turned and, still holding the door in both hands, he grinned at me. Then he slammed it after him.

At noon Mr. Crane came to the bridge and stood with his s.e.xtant in his hand. There was not even a bright spot in the gray clouds to tell where the sun was. He put the s.e.xtant back in its box. At twelve-thirty the commodore hoisted signal flags to give his position. We copied it down, and I watched Mr. Crane plot it on the chart. Using a very sharp lead pencil, he put a tiny dot on the white chart. Then, with the polished black parallel rules, he drew a thin gray line from the dot. On this line with the pinpoints of the dividers he measured off our future positions for every four hours. He was very neat and painstakingly exact.

"We'll be here at eight tonight," he pointed out to me. "After that we won't be near enough land to seek shelter, no matter what happens."

All that day and all the next day the wind increased. It did not increase in gusts or flurries; it increased slowly and deliberately, taking its time about it. Every watch we had to call for a few more turns from the engine room to keep up with the larger ships. On the third day we were proceeding at top speed. The ship threw herself maliciously against the onrushing seas. She shuddered and quaked and twisted. Below decks there was a shambles. The dishes had fallen to the galley floor and lay scattered there inches deep like huge jagged, snowflakes. From the racks around the crew's mess table fell jars of jam. Even after they had been wiped up the decks were sticky. There was the continual sound of one thing banging against another. Doors swung on their hinges, cups ticked against one another as they dangled from their hooks, the contents of drawers slid back and forth, and gla.s.ses in a rack jiggled together. The men went to their bunks as soon as they were off watch. Most of them were not actively seasick, but the continual effort of bracing oneself against the violent motion of the ship produced an acute physical weariness. Living aboard the ship was a little like standing on a still floor shifting one's weight from one leg to the other day after day.

Still the wind increased. I looked at the chart and saw we were nowhere near land. By that time this was a comfort, for if we could not get into a harbor, I wanted to be as free of reefs and islands as possible. Gradually we started to fall behind the other ships. "Resume your position in convoy," the commodore signaled, and with a perverse satisfaction I replied, "I am making my best speed."

When the morning of the fifth day dawned, the convoy was so far ahead of us that we could barely see them. On the horizon a huge signal light blinked us. Our light was too small to reply at that distance, but the big light signaled, "If you cannot maintain convoy speed, proceed independently to destination along stragglers' route."

I went into the chart room and from the orders plotted he stragglers' route to Okinawa. We altered course and plunged along by ourselves. I picked up the binoculars and stared after the other ships. Gradually they disappeared over the horizon. In spite of the fear of collision I had had in convoy, I felt a sickening sensation in the pit of my stomach when I saw them go. Now we had no destroyers to protect us. That fact did not disturb me so much as the reasonless sense of loss I felt at being alone. I called up the engine room.

"Better knock her down to fifty turns," I said to Mr. Rudd. "We're alone now. We're taking the stragglers' route."

"Good riddance!" said Mr. Rudd. "Now we won't have to beat ourselves to death trying to keep up with them."

When the engines were slowed the motion of the ship became a little less desperate, but the increasing wind quickly made up for the decrease in speed. Gradually the sound of the wind permeated the whole vessel; even in the engine room the men could hear it. At first the wind only hummed; then it whistled on one long, sustained note that became a screech. It was impossible to sit on the wing of the bridge any more, and the watch cowered in the pilothouse. More and more water was flooding the well deck, and, as the ship lunged into the trough, even her high bow was almost buried. I sent the bow lookout to the flying bridge. He stood with his back to the wind and looked aft.

I went into the chart room. Little Horrid, the monkey, was sitting on the chart table. He had left dirty paw marks all over the chart. I cursed him and chased him out. Carefully I examined the chart. There was the land, far away, and here was our course, a thin gray line. Our position, a neat dot in the middle of the white expanse, had been left by Mr. Crane when he had gone off watch. I picked up an eraser and carefully removed the stains left by the monkey. It was rea.s.suring to work on the chart-everything was so precise, so completely exact. Distance measured to a tenth of a mile, courses measured to a degree. I went out on the bridge and sat on my stool staring out over the sea. Suddenly there was a tearing noise right overhead. I looked up in time to see my awning from the flying bridge go sailing away like a great flapping kite. "I should have had it taken in," I thought, and went into the chart room to look at the anemometer. It hovered between seventy and eighty knots. Quite a wind, I thought, but not too bad if it doesn't get worse.

At one o'clock I went below for lunch. The cook had not attempted to supply anything but hot soup and sandwiches. Our chairs were lashed to the table and they slewed back and forth in their lashings as we ate. Wet dish cloths had been placed on the table to reduce the sliding of the dishes, but still we had to clutch our half-full bowls in both hands.

"Where's Mr. Warren?" I asked.

"In his stateroom," Mr. Rudd replied. "I haven't seen him come out for two days."

When I had finished eating I went to Mr. Warren's stateroom. I found him huddled in his bunk.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Sure," he said tonelessly. "I'm all right. Thanks for standing my watches. I'll be up and around pretty soon."

"Forget it," I said. "I'm going to have Boats stand your watch. He can do it as well as any of us."

That night I had a cot placed on the bridge and slept there. In the middle of the night I awoke with a sensation of unexpected motion and found my cot had escaped its lashing and slid across the pilothouse into the wheel. I jumped up and relashed it. While I worked I hung on to the base of the engine-room telegraph. The ship crashed into a sea and sent me spinning to the deck. Picking myself up, I looked out toward the bow. Nothing but blackness, but somehow the blackness seemed to be moving past the window like a swift river of ink. The wind screeched. I lay down on my cot and clung to the edge of it. Somehow I slept.

As soon as I got up in the morning I knew that the wind was worse. The shuddering of the ship shook everything on the bridge, and the bow for the first time was completely burying itself in green water. Each time it rose to a sea it sent torrents of water surging back into the well deck. I watched White open the forecastle door. Boats had rigged a life line from the forecastle door across the well deck to the after pa.s.sageway. White clung to it and waded along. The ship plunged, staggered, and reared upward. A wave like surf on a beach rolled from the bow aft, and smothered White. For a moment he completely disappeared. I thought he was lost. The water poured through the scuppers. Finally White emerged, kneeling on the deck with both arms around the life line. Quickly he got to his feet and sprinted aft. I telephoned the forecastle and told all hands to stay there until the storm was over. The ship became divided into two islands, with the flooded well deck in between. Glancing at the anemometer, I saw the wind had reached a velocity of ninety knots.

The wind and sea combed the decks. The canvas boat covers went and the boats themselves vibrated in their lashings. The forecastle deck was swept clear of lines. A chest of swabs and sweepers went. Each time the ship dropped from a sea she buried her bow deeper. The anchor winch was stripped of its canvas cover and disappeared in green water each time we pitched. The ship recoiled and shuddered. Living aboard here was like living inside a beaten drum. I called up Mr. Rudd.

"Are we taking any water in the bilges?" I asked.

"We're beginning to," he said. "I've got the pumps going."

I sat down on my stool and thought. "This is enough of this," I said to myself. I telephoned Mr. Rudd again and told him that I was going to ask for a lot of power in a few moments.

"What the h.e.l.l are you going to do?" he asked.

"Turn her and take it on her stern," I answered. "Send somebody up and warn all hands to hang on."

I telephoned the men in the forecastle to hold tight to their bunks. For a moment I waited, then just when one great sea had pa.s.sed and left us in a momentary calm, I ordered the rudder put hard over and rang up full speed ahead. The ship turned. Suddenly she rolled. I grabbed for the engine-room telegraph and hung on. Over she went, till my feet slipped from under me and I felt as though I were hanging from the ceiling. The helmsman supported himself on the wheel. A green wave crashed against the side of the ship and burst open the door of the pilothouse. With her decks at a ninety degree angle, the ship lay completely on her side. For a moment I thought she was going to turn all the way over. A solid sheet of water swept through the bridge and almost tore me away from the engine-room telegraph. I glanced around and saw that the helmsman was still there. Riveting my eyes to the compa.s.s, I saw we were still turning.

Gradually the ship brought her stem into the wind and began to right herself. Reluctantly she came up. I rang the engines back to slow again and had the rudder put amidships. The stern lifted to the seas. Because we were running with the storm, the wind did not seem so strong. Cautiously I ventured out through the broken pilothouse door. Our starboard boat was gone; the seas had swept it from its davits and taken with it all the deck boxes. It didn't matter. I called down to Mr. Rudd to turn the engines off completely. We drifted. Our screws dragging through the water kept our stern to the wind. The ship rolled more than she had, but she no longer shook; like a boxer, she retreated before the blows. The wind howled over her and white foam curled along her decks, but she did not suffer as she had before.

I went back into the chart room and examined the chart. Taking up the parallel rules, I fingered them thoughtfully. The wind was blowing from the north, or perhaps the northeast. We, then, would be drifting southwest. Probably we were making good a course of about two zero zero. I glanced at the anemometer. It hovered just over a hundred knots. Probably we were drifting at a speed of about four knots. I plotted our position. The water on the bridge had not entered the chart room. The chart was still white and dry and definite. The lines showing the degrees of lat.i.tude and longitude ran precisely across it and the compa.s.s rose stamped in the middle of it divided the circle into an exact three hundred and sixty degrees.

On the bridge the spray mixed with the air and obscured everything. All night we drifted. I did not sleep. Gradually the wind was taking on a new note. It became a fiendish melody, an idiot's falsetto that seemed to contain a deliberate intent of destruction. I sat on the bridge with it beating in my ears, and suddenly it seemed to me that the wind was quite simply out to get me. I could think of nothing else-there seemed to be something personal about the wind. "This is no time to get silly," I told myself. For a moment I sat dismally looking at the seas which reared around us like great, fluid mountain ranges. There was no horizon, only the moving gray slopes of water bounded and combined with the dirty white murk of the sky. Quickly I returned to the chart room and closed the door. There the wind sang a little less loudly in my ears. Sharpening a pencil, I advanced our position on the basis of a speed of four knots, course two zero zero. The anemometer read a hundred and ten knots.

When I returned to the deck I saw a black banner of smoke and a tongue of orange fire reaching from the stern forward. "My G.o.d, we're afire!" I thought, but I stared aft and saw that the wind was pulling flame out of the galley stack. The smoke made an exact right angle to the stack and a horrible, greedy, sucking noise accompanied it. I telephoned below to tell the cook to shut off the galley range.

"I just have, sir," he said. "The d.a.m.n thing is red hot, and it hadn't been lit five minutes!"

Returning on deck, I saw that the smoke had decreased sharply. I watched it while it thinned to nothing, then returned to the chart room. The anemometer had climbed to a hundred and fifteen knots. Looking at the chart, I suddenly began to ask myself questions. Were we drifting at a speed of four knots? No patent log would stay astern of us and it was impossible to take any sights. Were we making good a course of two hundred degrees? I couldn't tell. The neat lines and pinpoints on the chart appeared ironic. The polished black parallel rules slid across the chart table to the deck. I did not pick them up. I didn't know where we were. It didn't make much difference-I was sure we were in the open sea away from obstructions, but I had no exact position. Suddenly I began imagining things. How did I know there were no reefs near? How fast had we been drifting? I steadied myself and, picking up the parallel rules from the deck, I carefully plotted our position when we had left the convoy. From that point I led a line across the chart to the point where we had been when I had turned our stern to the seas. From this dot on the chart I drew a line southwest, and at the end of that line I put a little circle and labeled it, "Estimated position." I felt better.

During the night the wind changed. It veered back and forth, but still increased. The anemometer read a hundred and twenty-eight knots. When morning came I saw that the wind was from the east. It had changed so gradually that it was impossible to plot a course change. I took the parallel rules and dividers and put them in the desk drawer. For a moment I studied the neat chart, but I plotted no new position.

Just before dusk I went below. I was so tired that I could barely stand. In the galley the cook gave me a cup of soup he had heated in the electric coffee machine.

"Are we all right, sir?" he asked.

"Sure," I said. "Everything's going fine."

When I had finished the soup I went to Mr. Rudd's stateroom. I found him wedged in his bunk with blankets.

"How's it going?" he asked.

"Fine," I said automatically, but then I sat down.

"I don't have to fool you, Mr. Rudd," I said. "To tell you the truth I don't know where in h.e.l.l we are. I can't judge the rate of drift, and with the wind veering around like this I don't know in what direction it's blowing us."

"Don't worry about it," said Mr. Rudd. "We'll make out all right."

"If the wind goes down pretty soon we'll be all right," I said. "There's no land near us now. I'm pretty sure of that."

"Say the h.e.l.l with it," said Mr. Rudd. "You can't do anything about it. Let her drift and say the h.e.l.l with it. Well come out of it all right."

Something about Mr. Rudd's voice made me look at him closely. He was smiling and there was a look of unbelievable serenity on his face. His serenity was so complete that it was unnatural. Suddenly a suspicion stole over me and robbed me of the confidence I had drawn from Mr. Rudd. I stared at him.

"I know why you're so G.o.d d.a.m.n calm," I said. "You don't give a d.a.m.n if we sink or not!"

Mr. Rudd smiled at me. "That's right," he said. "I don't worry about it."

"You simply don't care!" I said. "It's monstrous. It's worse than suicide. You just don't care one way or the other!"

Mr. Rudd sat up in his bunk. "What the h.e.l.l's the matter with you?" he asked. "You better get hold of yourself. What do you want me to do, worry along with you?"

I put my hand up and ma.s.saged my eyes. "No," I said. "There's nothing much to worry about. I'm sorry I said those things."

I left Mr. Rudd's stateroom. Above me I heard a chattering, and saw Little Horrid, the monkey, crouched on a pipe in a corner of the pa.s.sageway. I had forgotten all about him, and I wondered how he had managed to sneak below. He looked sick and did not even hop out of the way as I pa.s.sed him.

On the bridge I sat down on my stool and dully looked out over the sea. The clouds and mist had closed in so tight around us that the sea did not look like a big place-it looked like a closed room. I nodded. I do not know how long I slept.

I was awakened by a terrible scream from below. At first I thought the wind had been mixing itself with my dreams, but the mad scream was repeated. Leaping from the bridge, I ran below and entered the pa.s.sageway.

The first thing I saw was the body of the monkey on the deck. The monkey had not only been killed; it had been torn, dismembered, smashed. After that it had been trampled. All I saw was a flattened pile of b.l.o.o.d.y fur. Farther aft I heard the laughter again. It was high and quiveringly hysterical. It was allied to the moaning of the wind; it rose and fell with the wind, and intertwined with it. I dashed toward the laughter. In the crew's mess deck I brought myself up short. Mr. Warren stood there laughing. His hands were covered with blood. In one hand he held a pistol, and with the other he hung on to the table to brace himself against the roll of the ship. Before him cowered the cook. Beside the cook stood Mr. Rudd quietly smoking a cigar. Mr. Warren stopped his laughter abruptly and turned his glazed eyes toward me.

"h.e.l.lo, Captain," he said.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. Warren," I replied. Both our voices sounded absurdly normal.

"Captain," said Mr. Warren, "bring Wortly in here."

"I can't do that, Mr. Warren," I replied. "Wortly is in the forecastle. The men can't get out of the forecastle."

A sly look came into Mr. Warren's eyes. "Why not?" he asked.

"The decks are all awash," I said.

Suddenly Mr. Warren began to laugh again. Mr. Rudd took a step forward, but Mr. Warren immediately swung the gun in his direction.

"Bring Wortly in here," he said to me again.

He pointed his pistol at me and smiled. "Bring Wortly in here or I'll kill you," he said.

"Why do you want Wortly?" I asked.

The ship rolled, and for a moment I thought Mr. Warren was going to fall. He caught himself.

"I'm going to kill that wicked b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" he said.

The ship shuddered. Mr. Warren leaned sideways against the table. Still he did not fall.

"Why do you want to kill Wortly?" I asked.

"There are too G.o.d d.a.m.n many wicked b.a.s.t.a.r.ds in this world," said Mr. Warren.

The ship trembled. Suddenly she gave a terrific lurch, and all of us fell to the deck. Mr. Rudd rolled on top of Mr. Warren. I sat up and saw Mr. Warren's outstretched hand with the gun right before me. I grabbed it and wrenched the gun away. Mr. Warren stood up, half carrying the enormous weight of Mr. Rudd. The cook tackled him around the ankles. All three of them fell to the deck again. Mr. Warren dragged himself to his knees. I hit him on the head with the b.u.t.t of the pistol. He collapsed.

"Did he kill anybody?" I asked Mr. Rudd.

"Only the monkey," Mr. Rudd panted.

We carried Mr. Warren to his stateroom, and tied him in his bunk.

Leaving Mr. Rudd with Mr. Warren, I returned to the bridge. The ship was rolling wildly. A glance at the anemometer told me the wind had reached a hundred and thirty knots. The whole ship was vibrating like a plucked string. The surface of the sea was no longer gray. It was white. An urge to do something took possession of me. No change of course was possible. No chance to seek shelter. Oil on the water? Something to try. I called Boats and told him to rig oil bags over the stern. He disappeared, and a moment later I saw him and White stagger across the fantail with a canvas seabag stuffed full of cotton waste and oil. They heaved it over the rail, and lashed it there. The foam alongside became stained with black. Otherwise there was no difference. "Let her drift," I remembered Mr. Rudd saying. "Say the h.e.l.l with it and let her drift." I shrugged my shoulders and went below.

Mr. Warren was still unconscious. I found Mr. Rudd with him shaving his head where I had hit it. He worked carefully and with great tenderness. When the bandage had been applied, he took a cold cloth and wiped Mr. Warren's forehead. Mr. Warren's face was as composed as the face of a sleeping child. He stirred a little and opened his eyes. Slowly his features became contorted. The muscles in his face twisted and writhed and his lips curled back. He strained against the lines that pinned his legs and arms down to the bunk. Suddenly he uttered a piercing scream. Involuntarily Mr. Rudd and I stepped back. Mr. Warren tried to sit up and look at us. For a moment I thought a trace of recognition glimmered in his eyes. "Mr. Warren," I said. He interrupted me with laughter. Sinking down in his bunk, he abandoned himself to laughter. Mr. Rudd and I turned and went out. The laughter followed us, mocking and wild. It rang through the whole ship above the whine of the storm. The cook came out of the galley and with an awed expression stood looking toward Mr. Warren's stateroom. In the pa.s.sageway we pa.s.sed a seaman on his knees with a rag and a bucket. He was cleaning up the remains of the monkey. As he moved the rag back and forth, he himself slid on the deck with the motion of the ship. As I went by he looked up, but said nothing. I went back to the bridge.

The next day the wind fell. During the evening it fell back to sixty knots. We started the engines and turned around. I plotted an estimated position and draw a course to Okinawa. When morning came the sky was heavily overcast, but the ceiling was higher. The great waves no longer marched across the ocean in orderly rows; abandoned by the wind, they were confused and ran in cross directions like a routed army. The sides of the waves were glossy and smooth, but they were still high, and the ship labored badly. We were forced to proceed at slow speed. As the day wore on the seas gradually subsided, and we worked up to eight knots.

I figured it would take about six more days to reach Okinawa. I had still been able to plot only estimated positions. The sun did not come out and I knew only in a very general way where we were. Mr. Warren lay bound in his stateroom, alternately laughing and sobbing. From time to time we changed his bonds. When we did this Boats had to hold down his shoulders and Guns had to hold his legs.