It seemed to the occupants of the launch as though that miserable night would never end. The tardy dawn, however, made its appearance at last, reluctantly, as it seemed to those drenched and weary watchers, and the moment that there was light enough to enable him to see distinctly Captain Staunton staggered to his feet, and steadying himself by grasping the boat’s main-mast, took a long anxious look all round the horizon. At first he could distinguish nothing save the wildly rushing foam-capped seas, and the scurrying shreds of cloud which swept rapidly athwart the black and stormy sky; but after some minutes of painfully anxious scrutiny he descried, about three miles away to leeward, a tiny dark object, appearing at intervals against the leaden-grey of the horizon, which his seaman’s eye told him was the pinnace.
The remainder of the fleet had disappeared.
It was no more than a realisation of his forebodings; but Captain Staunton possessed far too feeling a heart not to be powerfully affected by the loss of the two boats and the thirteen brave fellows who manned them. He ran over their names mentally, and recalled that no less than nine of the thirteen had arranged for half their pay to be handed over to their families at home; and he pictured to himself the bitter grief and distress there would be in those nine families when it came to be known that the husband, the father, the bread-winner was gone, overwhelmed and swallowed up by the remorseless ocean which knows no pity, not even for the wife and the helpless children.
With a powerful effort the captain dismissed these painful reflections from his mind, and turned his attention to matters nearer home. He had already searchingly scrutinised the aspect of the weather with most unsatisfactory results. As far as his experience went there was every prospect of a continuance—nay more, an increase—of the gale. The sky to windward looked wilder and more threatening than ever; while that the sea was still rising was a fact about which there could be no mistake. He dived into the little cabin or shelter aft, and took a long look at the aneroid, to find that it still manifested a downward tendency. It was evidently hopeless to expect a favourable change in the weather for some hours at least, and to attempt any longer to maintain the boat’s position, in the face of an increasing gale, was to expose her and those in her to imminent risk of destruction; he therefore decided to watch his opportunity and seize the first favourable moment for bearing up and running before it.
Bob and his fellow apprentices, together with Lance and Rex, were soon summoned, and preparations made for bearing up. It was an anxious moment, for should the boat be caught broadside-on by a breaking sea she would to a dead certainty be turned bottom-up, when nothing could save her occupants.
Captain Staunton stood at the tiller, intently watching the onward rush of the mountainous seas as they came swooping down with upreared threatening crests upon the launch. Presently, as the boat fell off a trifle from the wind and the main-sail filled, he gave the order to “let draw the jib-sheet.” The weather sheet was let go and the lee one hauled in like lightning, and the boat began to forge ahead. A sea came swooping down upon the little craft, but it was not a dangerous one; the skipper sent the boat manfully at it, and with a wild bound she rose over the crest and plunged into the liquid valley beyond. The next sea was a much more formidable one, but by luffing the boat just in the nick of time she went through and over it, with no worse consequences than the shipping of a dozen or so buckets of water, a mishap to which they were by this time growing quite accustomed, and then there occurred a very decided “smooth.”
“Brail up the main-sail, boys,” shouted the skipper cheerily, and in a second it was done; the helm was put up, the boat’s head fell off, and away she went with a rush, broadside-on to the sea. With a sickening heave she rose into the air as the next sea lifted her, and this time too a little water came on board, but nothing to speak of; and by the time the next wave caught her, her quarter was fairly turned to it, and she was rushing away before the wind. The fore-sail was then set and the main-sail stowed, and everybody sat down to watch the result.
The change was certainly for the better; for though a sea still occasionally broke on board it did so with less violence than before, and most of it now flowed off the deck and overboard again, instead of falling into the body of the boat as before.
As soon as the fore-sail was set, Captain Staunton steered for the pinnace, with the intention of ordering her also to bear up, as well as to inquire whether they had seen either of the other boats.
Suddenly, Bob, who was watching the little speck in the distance which showed against the horizon when both launch and pinnace happened to be on the summit of a wave together, caught sight for a single instant of what appeared to him to be an attempt at a signal made on board the latter.
“Hillo!” he exclaimed, “What’s wrong with the pinnace? They’re waving to us, sir.”
“Indeed!” said the skipper in a tone of concern. “Are you sure, Bob? Here, take the tiller for a moment and let me have a look. Keep her dead before it.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” responded Bob, as he changed places with his superior; the latter going forward and steadying himself by the fore-mast as he watched for the reappearance of the pinnace.
Presently he caught sight of her, and caught sight too, most unmistakably, of a flag—or something doing duty therefor—being very energetically waved on board.
“You are right, Bob,” he sharply exclaimed, “they are signalling us. I fervently hope there is nothing wrong with them. Starboard a little; there, steady so. Keep her at that as long as you can, and only run her off when it is absolutely necessary in order to avoid a breaking sea.”
In about twenty minutes the launch had reached the pinnace. As the two boats closed, it was seen that all hands on board her were busy baling; and she appeared to be low in the water. When the launch was near enough for a hail to be heard, Mr Bowles stood up and, placing his two hands together at his mouth, so as to form an impromptu speaking trumpet, shouted—
“Can you make room for us on board the launch, Captain Staunton? We are stove and sinking.”
“Ay, ay,” responded the skipper. “We’ll round-to and come alongside.”
He then sprang aft to the tiller, which he seized, shouting at the same time, “To your stations, lads! In with the fore-sail, smartly now.”
The sail was speedily taken in; the close-reefed main-sail was set; and the moment that the sheet was hauled aft the helm was jammed hard down and the boat brought to the wind, without wasting a moment to watch for a favourable opportunity. The launch was flying swiftly away from the pinnace, and the latter was sinking; there was therefore no time for watching for opportunities; by the frantic way in which Mr Bowles resumed his task of baling the instant that he had communicated his momentous tidings Captain Staunton saw that the danger on board the pinnace was imminent; and the boat was at once rounded-to, shipping in the operation a sea which half-filled her.
“Man the buckets, every man of you,” shouted the skipper as the launch, now close-hauled, began slowly to forge ahead in the direction of the devoted pinnace. The seas broke heavily against the bows of the boat as they swept furiously down upon her; but Bob and his comrades baled like madmen, while the skipper handled the little craft like the consummate seaman he was; and between them all, they managed to keep her above water.
“Drop your bucket, Bob, and stand by to heave them a line,” presently shouted the captain. Bob sprang forward, and seized the end of the long painter which was neatly coiled-up and stopped with a ropeyarn or two. Whipping open his knife he quickly severed the stops, and was just arranging the coil in his hand when Captain Staunton cried sharply—
“Heave with a will, Bob. There she goes!”
Bob glanced at the pinnace, now some twenty feet distant, just in time to see a heavy sea break fairly on board the water-logged boat and literally bury her. There was a wild cry from her occupants, as they felt the boat sinking under them, and in another instant they were left struggling for their lives in the furious sea.
> Bob hove the line with all his strength, and with unerring aim into the midst of the little crowd of drowning human beings, and then called for assistance. Some of them he saw had seized it; and he at once began to haul in. The other apprentices with Lance and Rex sprang to his aid, and presently hauled on board Brook and one of the seamen.
By this time the launch had crept up to the spot where the pinnace had disappeared; and by reaching out their hands those on board were able to seize and drag inboard three more of the drowning men.
Mr Bowles’ body, however, was seen floating face downwards some five-and-twenty feet away; and, close to it, Mr Forester Dale struggling desperately, and uttering wild screams which were every moment changed to choking sobs as the pitiless sea broke relentlessly over his head.
It was Bob who first caught sight of these two; and without an instant’s pause or hesitation he sprang headlong from the launch’s gunwale, and with a few powerful strokes reached the struggler. Mr Dale promptly flung both arms and legs round his would-be deliverer, clasping Bob like a vice, and pinioning him so completely that he was unable to move hand or foot. The result was that both instantly sank beneath the surface. Poor Bob thought for a second or two that his last hour was come; and there, in the depths of that wildly-raging sea, he lifted up his whole heart to God in a momentary but earnest prayer for mercy and forgiveness. Doubtless that swift prayer was heard, for as it flashed from his heart he felt his companion’s grip relaxing, and in another instant he had wrenched himself free and was striking strongly upward, with one hand firmly grasping Mr Forester Dale by the collar of his coat.
Bob rose to the surface within a few feet of Mr Bowles’ still floating body; and with a violent effort he soon succeeded in reaching it, knowing that, encumbered as he was, he would have to trust the launch to come to him, he could never reach her. As he seized his staunch friend and superior officer by the hair and twisted him over on his back he heard a wild cheer, instantly followed by a cheery shout of “Look out for the line, Bob!”
As the sound reached him the rope came flying over him, striking him sharply in the face. He seized it with his teeth; and then heard the skipper’s voice say—
“Haul in handsomely now, and take care you don’t jerk; he has gripped it with his teeth.”
A very few seconds afterwards, which, however appeared an age to Bob, and he found himself floating alongside the launch, where he was speedily relieved of his two inanimate charges, and finally dragged on board himself, half-drowned, with about ten feet of water in his hold as he expressed it, but full of pluck as ever.
The first business claiming attention was of course that of endeavouring to restore consciousness to the inanimate bodies of Mr Dale and the chief mate; and this was at length achieved. Mr Dale was the first to come round; and as soon as he was so far recovered as to be able to speak he was stowed away in the men’s sleeping berth forward, and made as comfortable as circumstances would permit. He lay there, warmly wrapped up, bemoaning for a time his hard fate in ever having come to sea, but at length the spirits which had been liberally poured down his throat took effect, and he dropped off to sleep.
Mr Bowles’ case was somewhat more serious, he having received a violent blow on the head from some of the floating wreckage, just after the foundering of the pinnace. The blow had inflicted a long scalp-wound from which the blood flowed freely; and when he at length revived he seemed quite dazed and light-headed, so that it was impossible to get a coherent reply to any of the questions put to him. He too was at last stowed away forward; and Bob, who was somewhat exhausted by his exertions in the water, and scarcely fit for other work, was detailed to watch by and attend to the two invalids.
The launch had in the meantime been once more got before the wind, and was again flying to leeward under jib and fore-sail, the mountain-seas pursuing her and necessitating the utmost watchfulness on the part of the helmsman to prevent her from being broached-to.
As soon as the two invalids had been satisfactorily disposed of, the order for breakfast was given; and after a vast amount of trouble the meal, consisting of biscuits, fried rashers of bacon, and hot coffee, was served. The company were indebted to the efforts of Rex and Lance for the cooking; they having taken counsel together and come to the conclusion that after a night of such great discomfort it was absolutely necessary that the females at least should be served with a good substantial hot meal; and they had accordingly joined forces in the preparation of the same, Lance seating himself coolly in the bottom of the boat, with the water washing all round him, and balancing the cooking apparatus carefully on his knees while Rex knelt before him enacting the part of chief cook.
This meal, unromantic as it may sound to say so, was inexpressibly comforting to those weak women and poor little May, all of them having passed a wretched sleepless night, cooped up in the close confined covered-in space in the stern of the launch, which, for want of a more appropriate name has been termed a cabin, with the water in the bottom of the boat surging up round them and wetting them to the skin as the boat tossed on the angry surges, while the continuous breaking of the seas on board filled their souls with dread that the boat could not possibly outlive the gale much longer.
When all hands were fairly settled down to the discussion of breakfast, Captain Staunton turned to the carpenter, who had established himself close beside the skipper, and said—
“Now, Chips, let us hear how the mishap came about whereby you lost the pinnace this morning;—but, before you answer me that question, tell me do you know anything about the other boats?”
“Well, sir,” responded Chips, “I can’t say as I do, rightly. But when day broke this mornin’ an’ we first missed ’em, Mister Bowles, he jumped up and took a good look round, and the first thing he made out were the launch away to wind’ard, hove-to. Then he had another good look all round, and presently I see him put his hand up to his eyes and stand looking away down to leeward. ‘Do you see anythink, sir?’ says I. And he says—still with his hand up shadin’ his eyes—‘I don’t know, Chips,’ says he, ‘but I’m most certain,’ says he, ‘that one of them boats is thereaway,’ pointin’ with his finger away down to leeward. ‘It’s too dark and thick down there to see werry distinctly,’ he says, ‘but every now and then I keeps fancyin’ I can see a small dark spot like a boat’s sail showin’ up in the middle of the haze,’ says he. And I don’t doubt, sir,” continued Chips, “but what he did see one of them boats; Mr Bowles has a eye, as we all knows, sir, what ain’t very often deceived.”
“In which case,” remarks the skipper, thinking aloud rather than addressing the carpenter, “there can be no doubt that the officer in charge, finding it impossible to face the gale any longer in safety, bore up like ourselves, only a little earlier. And if one of the boats did so, why not the other? And why should they not both be safely scudding before it at this moment, some ten miles or so ahead of us?”
“Very true, sir; I don’t doubt but it’s just as you say, sir,” responded the carpenter, who was in some uncertainty as to whether he was expected to reply to the skipper’s remark or not.
“We will hope so at all events, Chips,” cheerily returned the skipper. “And now tell me how you managed to get the pinnace stove?”
“Well, sir, the fact is, it were just the doin’ of that miserable creatur, Mister Dale. Our water were gettin’ low; and yesterday Mr Bowles ups and puts us on ’lowance—a pint a day for each man. Well, I s’pose it weren’t enough for this here Mister Dale; he got thirsty durin’ the night, and made his way to the water-breakers to get a drink on the quiet. And he was that sly over it that nobody noticed him. Hows’ever, like the lubber he is—axing your pardon humbly, sir, for speakin’ disrespectable of one of your passengers, sir—he lets the dipper slip in between the breakers; and in tryin’ to get it out again he managed to cast off the lashin’s; two of the breakers struck adrift; and before we could do anything with ’em they had started three of the planks, makin’ the boat leak
that bad that, as you saw yourself, sir, it were all we could do to keep her above water until you reached us.”
Captain Staunton made no comment upon this communication, though it is probable that he thought all the more. The loss of the pinnace was, particularly at this juncture, a most serious misfortune. For at the very time when, in consequence of the bad weather with which she had to contend, it was of the utmost importance that the launch should be in the best possible trim, she was suddenly encumbered with the additional weight of seven extra men, which, with the twelve persons previously on board, raised her complement to nineteen, and caused her to be inconveniently crowded. Then these additional seven men had to be fed out of the rapidly diminishing stores belonging to the launch, for not an ounce of anything had been saved from the pinnace. This rendered it imperatively necessary that all hands should at once be put upon a very short allowance of food and water; a hardship trying enough to the men of the party, but doubly so to the women and poor little May. However, no one murmured or offered the slightest objection to the arrangement, when at mid-day Captain Staunton explained the state of affairs and laid before the party his proposal. Except Mr Dale. That individual, on hearing the proposition, promptly crawled out of his snug shelter, and hastened to remind the skipper that he, the speaker, was an invalid; that his health, already undermined by the privations and exposure which he had been lately called upon to suffer, had been completely broken up, and his nervous system shattered by his recent immersion; that what might be perfectly right and proper treatment for people in a state of robust health—as everybody in the boat, excepting himself, appeared to be—would be followed by the most disastrous consequences if applied to himself; and that, finally, he begged to remind Captain Staunton that he had duly paid his passage-money, and, ill or well, should expect to be fully supplied with everything necessary for his comfort. Captain Staunton looked at the objector for some moments in dead silence, being positively stricken dumb with amazement. Then in accents of the bitterest scorn he burst out with—
The Pirate Island Page 13