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 ship's 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 mind's 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 one's 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 ship's 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 to his senses he appeared well enough, but soon discovered he could no longer keep his balance to walk or even sit up for any length of time without suffering from severe vertigo.
The winds had taken a toll on the rigging, and Captain Hammond supposed that even if they should survive the storm, it would take two or three days floating around the swells to effect repairs sufficient to loft sails safely again. It surprised him to discover that the ship's drift rate, as it was driven back before the winds, was almost eight knots. And though the course of the storm was moving generally west-northwest, the cyclonic winds were driving the ship east-southeast, with the eye of the monsoon moving somewhere off to the west.
When the gales at last cast his ship free of the vortex,
The Silver Lotus
had survived three days and nights of near-death torment. Her decks looked like they'd been raked with gunfire, and what was left of the storm sails hung in rags like a beggar's laundry. The crewmen were almost too spent to move. They hadn't had a hot meal or any worthwhile nourishment, and the cooks were no better off than the rest of the crew.
Captain Hammond had been on deck for eighteen hours when the storm broke free and moved on. He was so tired that he collapsed
on the bunk locker in the pilothouse and slept for three hours. In fact, nobody aboard could do much of anything for the ship for eight hours, and even when they managed to rouse themselves, they moved around the ship like the walking wounded, grateful to be alive to be sure, but maimed all the same.
When Captain Hammond awoke, he went on a tour of inspection and made a list of repair priorities. He next looked to the crew and their needs and lit the galley fires himself. He told the cook to brew up a rich beef soup with whatever vegetables he could find. He was told that Lady Yee had braved the elements to come to the aid of the injured sailors. With the help of Billy Starkey she set their bones, bound their wounds, spoke soothing words, and then dosed their pain with enough laudanum to put a bull elephant to sleep. It was the best she could do until professional help could be found.
Hearing this, Captain Hammond suddenly realized that he hadn't seen Lady Yee for quite some time. Something dark twitched in his brain, and he suddenly went off to his cabin. The moment he entered that dark thing twitched again. Lady Yee lay on her berth with eyes closed. Li-Lee stood over her mistress cooling her face and forehead with damp compresses, and Billy Starkey stood nearby almost in tears. There was no sign of response from Lady Yee. The captain rushed to his wife's side and looked down to notice a long, bleeding bruise on the left side of her beautiful face and a large blue-green lump above her left temple. Her left wrist had also been bandaged. When the captain demanded to know why he hadn't been called when his wife was injured, Li-Lee told him that Lady Yee insisted he not be bothered with trivialities. When he asked how the accident had happened, Billy Starkey wiped the tears from the side of his nose and said, “Sir, Lady Yee was thrown off her feet by the pitching of the ship. She and I were returning from the crew's quarters, and while coming down the companionway she fell headfirst to the deck below. She was unconscious at
first, but somehow I managed to get her back in her berth, and her maid here and I managed to lash her back in place. Her left wrist appears sprained and swollen, but her maid signed there was no serious damage beyond that.” In the simplest Chinese, Li-Lee confirmed that Lady Yee was sleeping comfortably now, under the influence of willow bark tea laced with Chinese brandy.
Captain Hammond dismissed Billy Starkey to his other duties with a firm handshake and sincere sentiments of profound gratitude. Then he turned to Li-Lee, nodded, and smiled to reassure the maid that he wasn't angry. Then he asked to be left alone with his wife. When Li-Lee had gone, Hammond drew a stool close to the berth and sat quietly watching over his sleeping love. He reached out to touch her hand and was pleased to find it warm and alive. But then a dark cloud settled on his heart as it occurred to him how sparse and sad his life would be without her. Perhaps it was because he was still too tired and couldn't resist the emotion, but suddenly Captain Hammond found himself openly weeping in gratitude for her safety. He silently promised himself that he would never place her well-being in jeopardy again. Sitting there, Captain Hammond suddenly felt very old and raw-boned. Every muscle in his body begged for relief, and his eyes felt as though they were lubricated with sand. Because he was past fatigue and vulnerable to self-doubt, he blamed himself for everything that had gone wrong. He fell asleep on his arm while holding his wife's hand. The last thing that floated through his thoughts was a proverb he'd learned in school. He drifted off reciting it to himself. “For the want of a nail the shoe was lost. For the want of a shoe the horse was lost. For the want of a horse the rider was lost. For the want of the rider the battle was lost. For the want of the battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.”
Lady Yee awoke to find her husband asleep, head on arm, and holding her hand. He looked like an exhausted little boy who had spent
the afternoon getting as dirty as nature allowed. She smiled and then winced in pain. The left side of her face was badly bruised, and the clotted blood on the lacerations didn't allow much room for facial movement without discomfort. Then she became aware that her chest hurt badly every time she took a deep breath, and that the pain in her left wrist was caused as much by the swelling of blue flesh against tight bandages as it was by the injury itself. But the one thing that most concerned her was the one subject she refused to even contemplate. The will of heaven would prevail, and she sailed under a lucky star. Even the famous Buddhist astrologer that her father had called in before she departed Canton predicted that Master Yee's daughter would enjoy a long span of years, be blessed with robust health, and be successful in all things of true importance. Then he said something odd. He looked at his charts and tables again, then foretold that her presence would be as food to the hungry, clothes to the naked, and shelter to the lost. She would foster a thousand souls and nourish the ignorant with wisdom.
Afterward, as the old astrologer monk was departing the house, he turned to Lady Yee and bowed. He said the reason heaven had granted her long life was that she had such a great deal to accomplish before she died. His expression turned serious when he said the charts were not in error. They indicated that she was born to be a tool of heaven's will, and thus she would remain all her days. She need not understand, just be who she was with confidence. The rest would take care of itself in time. However, the way she was feeling at the moment precluded all other desires except the “robust health” part of the prediction. She was slowly becoming aware of how much of her body had been traumatized by the fall. She felt like she'd been placed in a barrel and rolled down a mountain, a punishment usually meted out to petty criminals by angry village bailiffs.
The captain woke with a start, and for a moment believed he was still in the wheelhouse. He called out for course and heading, then
realized where he was, looked about, and found his wife smiling at him despite her discomfort. She could see where his tears had washed channels down his dirty face, and her heart went out to him.
When asked, she smiled and told him she was feeling much better, which wasn't true, but she asked for Li-Lee to come and adjust her bandages. Then she shook her head and feigned a frown. It amused her to order her husband to clean himself up, look more like a captain, and go up and attend to his men and his ship. She said she had no wish to float aimlessly around the ocean for the next month while people decided what to do first. But she especially wanted word from Billy Starkey on the condition of the injured crewmen, and approximately how many days it would be before they could expect professional care in some convenient port. Lastly she asked that Billy Starkey be shown some mark of favor for his bravery and loyalty. “I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't been there to save me. He deserves professional recognition. For a young man making his own way, that's all that matters, before or after the mast.”
Captain Hammond promised to look into all these matters in turn, then he gently kissed his wife and went into the adjacent cabin to wash up, shave, and change his clothes. He felt much refreshed for having done so, and ordered the ship's cook to heat plenty of water so the men off watch could do the same. They had collected plenty of fresh rainwater during the storm, and the captain believed that washing the salt off their hides and out of their clothes would put them in a better frame of mind.
Though it came as something of a surprise to everybody who had witnessed the jumbled chaos on deck,
The Silver Lotus
was back under full sail in eighteen hours. There were a few temporary patches nailed up here and there, and a few parts had to be fished together with cord and tar, but in the main she was still sharp, and held her course to the point. The cargo master was quite pleased with himself when he reported that
in all those long days of dangerous marine gymnastics, not one barrel or crate shifted or broke its lashings, and as far as the ship's carpenter was concerned, all seams were still as tight as a banker's wallet, and the deck caulking sound. The bosun's mate reported that after pumping the bilges fore and aft only four to six inches of water remained, which was standard under normal sailing conditions, but after considering what the ship had been through he counted it as a veritable miracle.
After calculating their present position, Captain Hammond visited his injured men and announced that though the ship had been blown way off course by the storm, they were now approximately six days east-northeast of the Hawaiian chain. He promised to have his men ashore and in a clean hospital as soon as humanly possible. In the meantime he ordered the cook and galley boy to see they had all they needed, and he contributed a beaker of fine rum to be mixed with their evening coffee to help them sleep despite their injuries.
The next afternoon, at six bells, when the watches changed, Captain Hammond called all available men aft. When they'd assembled and been called to ranks by the bosun's mate, the captain came forward and called on Billy Starkey to step front and center. Billy looked gob-stopped, but did as he was told. Then in front of the crew, the captain announced that for services of bravery and loyalty, Mr. Starkey was henceforth rated as an able seaman, with all the privileges and heartaches that go with the rank. The men chuckled with recognition and with pride. Billy looked like he'd been branded with a poker. The captain stepped forward and continued. “Able Seaman Starkey is to be further rewarded with a gold sovereign from the ship's chest as a mark of gratitude from the owners.” He handed Billy the heavy gold coin. The boy's blush could have lit up a harbor. With a grin on his face he advised Starkey to punch a hole in the coin and wear it about his neck before his new mates went to borrowing it now and then for groceries. The crew laughed and a call went up from the back. “Three cheers for our new
Tuna, Able Seaman Starkey. God bless him as a true friend, a trusted mate, and a bad hand at cards.” The crew cheered and laughed, and Billy Starkey almost exploded with pride as two of the crew lifted him to their shoulders and semi-ceremoniously carried him forward to his new home with them in “the shudders” before the mast.