Chapter 3.
A Rough Storm On our sixth day at sea.
We had to anchor at Yarmouth because of bad winds blowing in the wrong direction.
There were many other ships waiting there, too.
About a week later, the winds were finally blowing in the right direction, only they were very strong.
John's father, the captain, thought we would be okay to sail, but the men were not as convinced.
All hands were sent to work, taking the high sails down from the top masts.
The crew worked hard to make sure the cargo and equipment was snug and close on deck.
We didn't want anything unnecessary blowing in the wind.
The crew made sure the ship would ride as easily upon the seas as possible.
We set off early that morning.
By noon, the sea had turned against us.
It was great and terrible storm.
I saw terror and amazement in the eyes of the crew.
John's father paced in and out of his cabin.
I heard him muttering, We shall all be lost.
I cannot describe my fright.
The ship lurched back and forth as it fought waves as high as mountains.
A new one crashed against the boat every couple of minutes.
Many other ships around us flailed in the rough seas.
I watched as other sailors worked hard to cut down their masts so the wind wouldn't catch them.
If the masts were cut down, it would help to stop the waves from carrying the ship under the water.
At first, the captain was hesitant to do the same because we were heavily laden with goods.
He didn't want us to become unbalanced.
Then the sea got rougher and the storm grew worse.
The captain was soon convinced.
Strike the sails, he shouted.
Down with the masts.
Hurry, boys, or we shall all be lost.
We prayed this would be enough to save us.
Many other ships were still having trouble in the storm.
One ahead of us had already gone down.
The worst was yet to come.
The men huddled next to me in the cabin said they had never seen a storm like it.
They prayed.
They begged the heavens to save them, but the storm showed no mercy.
Even the captain thought the only place we would land was the bottom of the sea.
Just when we thought the situation could grow no worse, one man raced up from below and shouted that our ship had sprung a leak.
Four feet of water lay in the hold.
All hands were called below deck to pump.
I went down and worked very hard.
The water seemed to be winning the battle.
The storm slowed a bit, but still the hold filled up with water.
The captain knew we would never make it to the next port.
He ordered the crew to start firing our cannons to call out for help.
Wait, I heard one of the sailors call out.
Here comes a rescue boat.
The waves made it almost impossible for the boat to get to us.
We had one chance.
We needed to throw a rope to them so we could stay steady enough to board.
We all watched as the first mate carefully tossed the rope out into the sea.
Oh, what luck.
They caught it.
We scrambled to climb aboard.
Each time the little rescue boat reached the crest of a wave, I feared for my life.
The waves were so tall.
We were so small.
The brave men rowed and rowed.
They had risked life and limb to help us, and they weren't going to lose us now.
Just 15 minutes after we were rescued, we watched in horror as our ship tipped over and went under.
After what felt like forever, I could finally see the shore.
There were men running everywhere, waiting for our arrival, trying to see if they could help.
We landed safely.
Cries of hurrah and hallelujah erupted the instant the boat hit the sandy beach.
Men all around threw blankets on us so we wouldn't be cold.
Our captain heartily thanked the brave men who had rescued us.
Our entire crew walked slowly back to Yarmouth, our spirits defeated because we had lost our boat.
The goodness of the people in Yarmouth did much to make up for our loss.
The local judge found everyone a warm bed for the night and many of the shopkeepers were kind enough to help us get back to London or Hull.
A part of me wanted to go back to Hull.
From there I could travel to York to see my parents, but a larger part of me still craved an adventure.
I couldn't make up my mind.
Should I stay and find a new ship, or should I go home?
On my third day in Yarmouth, I ran into my friend John walking with his father.
They both looked shaken and upset.
Father, John said, this is Robinson.
Remember I told you about how he came along to see what a sailor's life was like.
He wants to spend his life at sea.
The captain looked at me carefully.
Robinson, take this as a sign and go home.
A life at sea is not for you.
But, sir, has this one storm also spoiled you, I asked.
Will you no more go to sea?
The captain replied, My life is different.
This is my career.
It's my duty to go to sea.
For you it was a trial, a test, and a very unlucky one.
If you insist on a life at sea, I'm afraid of what might happen to you.
He spoke gravely about good luck.
He told me I was tempting fate by continuing to follow my dreams.
He went so far as to suggest that all the bad luck was indeed my fault.
These were the last words he said to me.
Robinson, you can depend on one thing.
If...
You ignore the wishes of your father.
You will meet both disappointment and disaster.
I shook my head and turned away.
I never saw John or his father again after that day.
As I walked, I thought carefully about what he said.
What if the storm was a sign?
What if it meant I should never become a sailor?
Maybe I should just count my blessings and go home, I said.
What if he's right and I'm cursed?
But I couldn't go home, such a failure.
My father would never be proud of me.
So I swallowed my doubts and rode on to London.
