We left St. Michael's on the same day. Nothing
worth while talking about occurred until two days afterward--Wednesday,
May 7th.
"We were plodding along slowly that day. About noon I took the bridge
to make an observation. It seemed to be hotter than ordinary. I shed my
coat and vest and got into what little shade there was. As I worked it
grew hotter and hotter. I didn't know what to make of it. Along about
2 o'clock in the afternoon it was so hot that all hands got to talking
about it. We reckoned that something queer was coming off, but none of
us could explain what it was. You could almost see the pitch softening
in the seams.
"Then, as quick as you could toss a biscuit over its rail, the Nordby
dropped--regularly dropped--three or four feet down into the sea. No
sooner did it do this than big waves, that looked like they were coming
from all directions at once, began to smash against our sides. This was
queerer yet, because the water a minute before was as smooth as I ever
saw it. I had all hands piped on deck and we battened down everything
loose to make ready for a storm. And we got it all right--the strangest
storm you ever heard tell of.
"There was something wrong with the sun that afternoon. It grew red and
then dark red and then, about a quarter after 2, it went out of sight
altogether. The day got so dark that you couldn't see half a ship's
length ahead of you. We got our lamps going, and put on our oilskins,
ready for a hurricane.
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