The Mate and I were on the poop watching her. You see, we'd
signalled her, and she'd not taken any notice, and that seemed queer, as
we couldn't have been more than three or four hundred yards off her port
beam, and it was a fine evening; so that we could almost have had a
tea-fight, if they'd seemed a pleasant crowd. As it was, we called them
a set of sulky swine, and left it at that, though we still kept our
hoist up. All the same, you know, we watched her a lot; and I remember even then I
thought it queer how quiet she was. We couldn't even hear her bell go
and I spoke to the Mate about it, and he said he'd been noticing the
same thing. Then, about six bells they shortened her right down to top-sails; and I
can tell you that made us stare more than ever, as anyone can imagine. And I remember we noticed then especially that we couldn't hear a single
sound from her even when the haul yards were let go; and, you know,
without the glass, I saw their Old Man singing out something; but we
didn't get a sound of it and we _should_ have been able to hear every
word. Then, just before eight bells, the thing Jessop's told us about
happened. Both the Mate and the Old Man said they could see men going up
her side a bit indistinct, you know, because it was getting dusk; but
the Second Mate and I half thought we did and half thought we didn't;
but there was something queer; we all knew that; and it looked like a
sort of moving mist along her side. I know I felt pretty funny; but it
wasn't the sort of thing, of course, to be too sure and serious about
until you _were_ sure. After the Mate and the Captain had said they saw the men boarding her,
we began to hear sounds from her; very queer at first and rather like a
phonograph makes when it's getting up speed. Then the sounds came
properly from her, and we heard them shouting and yelling; and, you
know, I don't know even now just what I really thought. I was all so
queer and mixed. The next thing I remember there was a thick mist round the ship; and
then all the noise was shut off, as if it were all the other side of a
door. But we could still see her masts and spars and sails above the
misty stuff; and both the Captain and the Mate said they could see men
aloft; and I thought I could; but the Second Mate wasn't sure. All the
same though, the sails were all loosed in about a minute, it seemed, and
the yards mastheaded. We couldn't see the courses above the mist; but
Jessop says they were loosed too and sheeted home along with the upper
sails. Then we saw the yards squared and I saw the sails fill bang up
with wind; and yet, you know, ours were slatting. The next thing was the one that hit me more than anything. Her masts
took a cant forrard, and then I saw her stem come up out of the mist
that was round her. Then, all in an instant, we could hear sounds from
the vessel again. And I tell you, the men didn't seem to be shouting,
but screaming. Her stern went higher. It was most extraordinary to look
at; and then she went plunk down, head foremost, right bang into the
mist-stuff. It's all right what Jessop says, and when we saw him swimming (I was the
one who spotted him) we got out a boat quicker than a wind-jammer ever
got out a boat before, I should think. The Captain and the Mate and the Second and I are
all going to sign this. (Signed)
WILLIAM NAWSTON _Master_. J.E.G. ADAMS _First Mate_. ED. BROWN _Second Mate_. JACK T. EVAN _Third Mate_.