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Updated: May 24, 2025
A moment later the men below decks "felt the rudder" as the San Gardo, abandoning further attempts to hold her course, swung about to meet the seas head on. Eight bells midnight struck, marking the end of the shift; but no one came down the ladders to relieve Neville's watch. The growls of the tired men rose above the noise in the fire-room. Again Neville came through the passage.
These rascals must not be allowed to capture British vessels on any pretence whatever; if they are allowed to do so, even on pretences of assisting their enemies, no vessel but a man of war will be able to sail in these seas. From there on my way to Napoli I fell in with the Martin and returned to Smyrna, where I found Euryalus. He went to sea and has left me Gardo here.
When Neville's watch went off duty, Larry found the sea no rougher than on countless other runs he had made along the Atlantic coast. The wind had freshened to a strong gale, but he reached the forecastle with no great difficulty. Without marked change the San Gardo carried the same heavy weather from Barnegat Light to the Virginia capes.
Far off the starboard bow floated a thin line of smoke from a tug's funnel, the first sign to the crew since the hurricane that the world was not swept clean of ships. Two hours later the tug was standing by, her captain hailing the San Gardo through a megaphone. "Run in to New Orleans!" he shouted. "I cleared for Galveston, and I'm going there," the San Gardo's captain called back.
"Irishman!" came the answer. "It's no man at all; it's a mouse you're seein' a bunker mouse." From that moment the name Larry Walsh was forgotten. The San Gardo was late getting away that night; two bells of the evening watch had sounded when at last she backed from her pier into the North River and began the first mile of her trip to Galveston.
The San Gardo was off Jupiter by noon the third day out, running down the Florida coast; the wind-bent palms showed faintly through the driving spray. Neville's watch went on duty that night at eight. As his men left the forecastle a driving rain beat against their backs, and seas broke over the port bow at every downward plunge of the ship.
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