DECEMBER 21.

[Sidenote: A jammed rudder leaves the destroyer unmanageable.]

I needed your letter, being about twenty years older than I was a week
ago. No, no harm done. Just had my first experience of what it means
under certain circumstances to be in command. Went out with certain
others on a certain job. All went well, though we had a poor grade of
oil in our bunkers and were burning more than we should ordinarily.
Then, through certain chances, we had to go farther than expected.
Still, I figured to get back with a moderate margin, when the gale
struck us. You may have read of Biscay storms; well, believe me, they
are not over-rated. I have seen just as bad, perhaps, but not from the
deck of a destroyer. And while I am frantically calculating whether I
shall have enough fuel to make port or not, there is a wild yell from
the bridge that the rudder is jammed at hard-a-starboard and can't be
moved. She, of course, at once fell off into the trough of the sea, and
the big green combers swept clear over her at every roll, raising merry
hob. All the boats were smashed to kindling-wood; chests, and everything
on deck not riveted down, went over the side. In that sea you could no
more manoeuvre by your engines alone than you could dam Niagara with a
handful of sand. A man alongside of me aft, where we were working on the
steering-gear, was swept overboard, but, having a line around his waist,
was hauled back like a hooked fish.

All I could do was to steam in a big circle, and at one point would be
running before it, and could work for an instant or two with the seas
running up to our waists. When they get over your head, you probably