Page:Old Westland (1939).pdf/140

wind, failing somewhat, was insufficient to keep way on the ship and when we got into the breakers it was impossible to steer. We were all stripped to our flannels, ready to swim if necessary. We were now slowly drifting towards the shore, and I was holding on to the running rigging, near the main mast. Carefully watching the seas I noticed a huge wave coming towards us. As it neared the ship, it seemed to rise up into a thin narrow edge, almost transparent at the top and flecked with a little white spray. It rose like a wall high above the bulwarks, then curled over, and the ship was covered with a mass of broken water. The small whaleboat was well bolted down to the deck, with strong chains, between the two masts, keel upwards. The wave ran over the top of this without breaking the chains, but the galley was swept away and the bulwarks broken off level with the deck. We were all now hanging on for dear life. If I had had any certainty that I was going to get ashore safely there would have been some enjoyment in the situation, for it was a very grand sight to see each wave of broken water rushing over us and throwing the ship nearer the shore. It seemed a very long time as wave after wave pounded us, but we had ample time to get a good breath between each submergence, though we were getting badly bruised by being knocked against the deck and masts, as the seas went surging by.