Seaquake

SEAQUAKE
The term seaquake was coined in the 1880's by German, Geophysics
professor, Eberhart Rudolph. It was many years before his theories were
generally accepted. In 1872 underwater disturbances had no rational
explanation?

All day the ferocity of the wind had increased and by 7pm the First
Mate of the Mary Celeste, Albert Richardson, was becoming concerned. He
knocked at the captain's door.

"What is it Mr. Richardson?" Captain Benjamin Briggs looked pale and
tired. In the dimly lit cabin Richardson made out the shadowy figure of
Briggs' wife, Sarah, cradling her whimpering, seasick young daughter on
the Captain's bed.

"We're still at nine knots Captain, and more storm clouds are
gathering. It's threatening to be a rough night."

Briggs sighed and scratched his forehead. "Time to secure the hatches
and board up the windows, I think, Mr. Richardson. Unless things worsen
I'll join you at first watch and we'll take stock then."

"Aye, Captain. And I'm sorry that little Sophia is still poorly."

"Thank you, Mr. Richardson." Briggs closed the door and crossed to the
bed. Sarah looked up at him. "I'm sorry too, Ben. I'm beginning to
think we should never have come on this voyage. They said it was an
unlucky ship and I feel as though we're adding to your troubles."

Briggs put his arm around her. "Hush, my love. This tiresome storm will
soon abate and you'll feel differently then. And what's this talk of
bad luck? I'll warrant you've been listening to the crew's idle
chatter."

"The cook was telling the others that a ship that encounters misfortune
on its maiden voyage is jinxed forever. "

"Sarah, that was sixteen years ago - when she was the Amazon."

"Mr. Head says that renaming the vessel is unluckier still."

Briggs sighed. "Mr. Head, I remind you, my love, is ships cook and not
the Delphic Oracle." As he spoke the ship pitched and tossed alarmingly
on the growing swell. Sophia cried out in protest and reached for her
mother.

Briggs stood up. "It's getting worse," he said "I must go back on
deck."
By first watch the storm raged mercilessly as the crew struggled in the
lashing rain to secure the rigging. Through the night the brigantine
made steady progress until at 5am they reached the little Island of
Santa Maria in the Azores.

Briggs decided to deviate from their southward course to Gibraltar and
take refuge from the storm along the lee shore of the island. They
dropped anchor in the shallows and rested for a while, blissfully
unaware that in distant Switzerland a massive earthquake with an
epicentre somewhere in the Atlantic was registering at the Zurich
seismological station.

The crew, refreshed by some snatched sleep and their first hot meal in
days were running up the sails and pumping the bilge in readiness to
weigh anchor when the ocean suddenly exploded beneath them.

The ship shook from stem to stern and an ominous rumbling sound echoed
round the hull. Seamen Harhens and Goodschoad in the rigging were
hurled screaming onto the deck, the abandoned sails flapping wildly
above them.

In the galley the superstitious cook fled in terror as the gigantic
cast-iron stove lurched off its chocks. By the time he reached the main
deck the sea was calming and the crew was assembling in a state of
shock.

Briggs, although visibly shaken, instantly took control. He ordered the
five remaining able crewmen to secure the large water casks that had
become dislodged and check the cargo for damage. Meanwhile, Sarah, with
Sophia clinging tightly to her skirts, did her best to tend to the two
men lying injured on the deck.

First mate Richardson reported to Briggs in a state of agitation.
"Captain, we've opened the fore hatch and the whole hull is full of
alcohol fumes. Some of the barrels must have shaken loose and split.
We're standing on seventeen hundred casks of potential
explosive!"

"Calm yourself, Richardson, the men are frightened enough as it is.
Open the lazarette hatch and the fore and aft skylights. We'll try to
air her out."

They had just carried out these instructions when the first aftershock
occurred. For ten long seconds the vessel pitched and vibrated on a
foaming swell of waves. Amid the commotion the cook screamed
hysterically: "It's an omen. We're doomed."

Richardson turned an ashen face to his superior. "Captain, we should
abandon ship now, or we'll have a mutiny on our hands."

Briggs inhaled deeply, looking heavenwards for inspiration. After a
few moments, he declared: "I'll not desert my ship unless absolutely
necessary, Mr. Richardson. But, if it will placate the crew, we'll take
to the yawl and tow behind her until danger of explosion is past and we
can re-board. Agreed?"

Richardson's face was a picture of relief. "Aye, Captain. We'll make
ready immediately."

"Good man," said Briggs. "Get everyone into the boat while I collect my
instruments. Should anything happen while I'm below, you're to cast
off. Understood?"

"Understood, Captain," said Richardson.

The crew sprang into action. The second mate, seizing an axe, freed the
yawl from its moorings and they dragged it to the starboard rail while
he severed a length of stout halyard rope for towline. With this
secured, they heaved the boat over the side.

Briggs armed with chronometer; sextant and oilskin wrapped ship' s
documents, reappeared and helped lower the injured seamen into the
yawl.

They drifted behind the Mary Celeste for some minutes engulfed by an
eerie quietness punctuated only by Sophia's quiet sobbing and the odd,
whispered prayer. Then the sea began to churn around them. With a
horrific roar the yawl lifted fifteen feet upwards on a column of
concentrated water, hung there for one split second like some surreal
ornament on display, then was dashed back into the boiling waves below.
The towline snapped from the Mary Celeste like a strand of sewing
cotton. When the waves calmed, no sign of life remained.

For ten lost souls an ordeal was over - for the world a mystery had
begun?
END