Summary

Portrait of Morgan Robertson Morgan Robertson McClure's Magazine, Volume 7, Number 5… (1896)

He spliced ropes for tackles, and an able seaman could have spliced no better—though, possibly, more quickly; for sailors are made, not born like poets and mechanics. He chopped ice and manipulated tackles—with the drag for power—and by noon had the heavy boom, sail, and gaff on deck, and two holes sunk in the solid bed of ice abaft the stump to receive the jaws when his mast should arise. Salting his work as he left it, he labored on, perspiring with his efforts, and drenched by the merciless seas which boarded the craft amidships.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Morgan Robertson Morgan Robertson McClure's Magazine, Volume 7, Number 5… (1896)

Darkness descended, and he steered by compass alone, as the wind freshened to a gale, and by midnight to a hurricane that at times flattened the seas to a level. His lame side ached; his blind eye, inflamed with cold, smarted as though torn with needles; but he bravely made his course good. The seas poured over and drenched him, and ice formed on his back and shoulders, descending as a curtain from the rim of his sou'wester. Working the wheel made his arms and breast perspire, while his feet smarted, burned, and grew numb as the water in his boots congealed.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Morgan Robertson Morgan Robertson McClure's Magazine, Volume 7, Number 5… (1896)

As the tow-line tautened, leading now off to starboard, though the brand-new rope held, the rotten tow-post, weakened by its wrenching, did not. Breaking at the deck, it crashed over the bow at the end of the line, catching and carrying away the port bowsprit shroud as it went; and with her momentum and the wheel still to port, the barge swung around, lost headway, and pointing her nose to the north shore, drifted to leeward, with all the rigging of the bowsprit and jib-boom gone on the port, or weather, side.
Source: Wikisource

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