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Updated: May 20, 2025
At three o'clock on the morning of June 3, Lieutenant R. P. Hobson, with a volunteer crew of seven men, ran the steam-collier Merrimac into the mouth of the harbor, under a heavy fire from the Spanish batteries, dropped her anchors in mid-channel between Churruca Point and Smith Cay, opened her sea connections, exploded a number of torpedoes hung along her sides at the water-line, and when she sank, hung on to a raft attached by a rope to the sunken vessel.
It was too rough to tie her up to the supply-ship, so the sub was anchored they carry anchors too a short distance away, with three men left on her for an anchor watch, the idea being to take them off later for a hot meal.
This stockade had but one opening of any dimensions. A few strokes of the oars brought us abreast of it, and we let go our anchors. The eldest son of the Chief came to us immediately in a canoe. He was a splendidly formed young man, about twenty-five years old. He wore his hair long and flowing, his countenance was open and ingenuous, his eyes black and knowing.
The wood, water casks, and sides of meat were duly stored, the anchors were brought to the bows, and the adventurers put to sea again towards the secret harbour. That day one of their men died from "a sickness which had begun to kindle among us, two or three days before."
"Creaky doors" are said to "hang long," and leaky ships may enjoy a similar longevity. It certainly was a curious fact that the Water-Lily hardly suffered in that storm, though the damage done to shipping was very great. Big and little, men-of-war and merchantmen, very few escaped scot-free, and some dragged their anchors and were either on the reef in the harbour, or ran foul of one another.
Round went the capstans, up came the anchors, the broad folds of white canvas were let fall from the yards and sheeted home, and in the course of a few minutes the whole fleet was under weigh and standing out to sea.
I knows a tide, an' it's a good tide, The tide that gets you quick to anchors down. I knows a day, an' it's a fine day, I knows a tide, an' its' a good tide And God help the lubber, I say, That's stole the sailor man's bride!" The song had its way with them and they joined in and lay to their oars with almost too much goodwill.
Thus he describes his childish impressions of a mariner "no good in port or out," as his granddad said: And all his flesh was pricked with Indian ink, His body marked as rare and delicate As dead men struck by lightning under trees, And pictured with fine twigs and curled ferns; Chains on his neck and anchors on his arms; Rings on his fingers, bracelets on his wrist; And on his breast the Jane of Appledore Was schooner rigged, and in full sail at sea.
Calm, as if no storm was raging, Captain Courtney walked the deck, his eye now turned astern now at the rigging of his ship. He sent Mr Trenane forward to see that the anchors were ready for letting go. The lieutenant reported all ready. "Then we have done all that men can do to save the ship, and to Providence we must trust the rest," observed the captain.
"She'll not keep afloat many minutes longer," observed Higson, who had been watching her, "unless she parts from her anchors, and then it will only be to get out of the frying-pan into the fire." "We might reach her, and should she appear likely to go down, we might get the crew out of her," observed Jack. "It will be no easy matter, but it may be done," answered Higson.
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