CHAPTER VI
Man Overboard
"Party, fall in! Sergeant, march the men aft report to the SecondMate for boat drill. Until you are dismissed you will take yourorders from him."
Sergeant Carr saluted, and then devoted his attention to the squadfallen in on the upper deck. They were a set of stalwarts, butwithout exception were up-country farmers and sheep-shearers beforethey left New Zealand for the still distant Front. Until they joinedthe S.S. _Awarua_ at Wellington, very few of them had ever seen aship's boat.
Transport 99 was forging ahead at a modest 10 or 11 knots. The21-knot cruiser, although steaming under natural draught, wascutting rings round her charge, as if reproaching her for hertardiness. The wind was abeam and fairly fresh, making the old_Awarua_ roll heavily.
Aft on the port side of the poop stood the Second Mate, a short,bull-necked, burly man, whose attitude, suggested a bored interestin the work in hand. He had the old salt's pitying contempt for"flat-footed landlubbers". Very many times since the outbreak of warhad he been called upon to instruct troops in boat drill, and neverhad he seen any practical result of his labours. The monotony ofimparting boat knowledge into the heads of men who possessed not theslightest inclination towards things nautical irritated him.Forgetting that his instruction classes were composed of men whowere not seamen, he was apt to give orders without explaining theprecise nature of the various terms he employed, and failure on thepart of his audience to follow his deep-sea phrases reduced him to astate of profanity.
The boat selected for the drill was a "double-ender" life-boathanging in the old-fashioned style of davits. The davits were swunginboard, the boat resting on "chocks" or hinged pieces of woodshaped to fit the lower strakes of the boat.
"Now then," began the Second Officer. "In the event of this craftbeing torpedoed, you men will form the crew of this boat. At aprolonged blast on the syren all hands will come to attention andawait orders. At the bugle-call you will throw off coats and boots,put on life-belts--suppose you know by this time _how_ to put 'emon?--and fall in by numbers, facing outboard. We'll take thelife-belts for granted."
The men received this part of the instruction without emotion. Theyhad heard it many times before.
"You are bow, and you are stroke," continued the Second Mate,addressing two of the men.
"Stroke the bow-wow, Tommy," whispered a wag in an audible aside."Now we are getting on. We'll finish up with a bloomin' menagerie."
"Silence, there!" snapped the instructor. "Bow and stroke will jumpinto the boat, see that the plug is inserted, and hook thefalls--four hands to man each of the falls. You," addressing thewould-be humorist, "will attend to the gripes----"
"Should have thought that was a job for the doctor," remarked theman _sotto voce_, at which several of the men within hearing beganto laugh.
"This is no laughing matter, you pack of jackanapes," bawled the nowinfuriated ship's officer. "You'd feel a bit sick if you foundyourselves in the ditch through not knowing how to lower away. Now,then, together."
Out swung the davits, the task rendered difficult by the roll of theship, until the boat was ready for lowering.
The Second Mate looked at the surging water, and considered theerratic rolling motion of the lofty hull. To lower away with apractised crew manning the falls would entail a certain amount ofrisk should the boat surge against the ship's side; with a crowd ofraw amateurs the danger was magnified threefold.
"Good enough!" he ordered. "We'll suppose the lowering and hoistingpart is done. I'll put you through that another day when there'sless sea. Now, stand by."
A shrill rasping of chain and an involuntary cry of mingled surpriseand apprehension from the two in the boat interrupted the SecondOfficer's explanation. Accidentally the "stroke" had released theafter disengaging-gear. The next instant the boat was hangingvertically, held only by the for'ard tackle.
The bowman, making a frantic grab at the upper block of the davit,hung on like grim death until his feet found a hold on the edge ofthe foremost thwart. The boat, swinging like a gigantic pendulum,was doing her best to stave in her quarter against the ship's side.
The "stroke" was not so fortunate. With the release of the gear thelower block dealt him a numbing blow on the shoulder. Unable tograsp any object that might afford security, he fell withconsiderable force into the sea.
"Man overboard!" shouted the Second Officer, and picking up alife-belt he hurled it close to the spot where the luckless fellowhad disappeared. Almost at the same time the sentry let fall thepatent life-buoy.
For some minutes the rest of the squad were too taken aback by thesuddenness of the catastrophe to grasp the situation. The bowman,more scared than hurt, although considerably shaken, clambered outof the boat and gained the deck.
"Good heavens," ejaculated Malcolm, "the man overboard can't swim astroke!" Heedless of the fact that of all the party he was the onlyone who had not removed his boots, Malcolm ran aft. With a bound hecleared the rail and dived overboard.
Fortunately for him, the _Awarua_ was moving at a comparatively lowspeed. As it was, in spite of the momentum of his leap, he struckthe water obliquely, and with a thud that temporarily winded him.
Coming to the surface, he took in a deep breath of salt-laden air,rubbed the water from his eyes, and looked for the missing man.
On the crest of a roller he espied the rifleman's head and shouldersand outstretched arms. In the interval that had elapsed between theaccident and Malcolm's dive the ship had travelled a good hundredyards. Midway between the would-be rescuer and the object of hisattentions floated the life-buoy, its position clearly indicated bya cloud of calcium smoke. He could see no sign of the life-belt.
Using a powerful trudgeon stroke, Malcolm started and swam towardsthe spot where he had caught a momentary glimpse of the man. In lessthan two dozen strokes he found that his saturated sleeves hamperedhis arms. His boots, too, were acting as a drag, yet there was notime to tread water and kick them off.
On the crest of the third roller Malcolm again caught sight of theman. He had ceased to struggle and was floating without any apparentmotion, his head and shoulders clear of the water.
Changing to breast stroke, Carr slid down the slope of the longroller. Then, as he rose on the succeeding crest, he found that hewas within ten yards of the man.
"Hang it all!" thought Malcolm as he approached. "I might have savedmyself a job. He's better off than I am. The bounder's wearing alife-saving waistcoat."
"Hallo, Sergeant!" gurgled the rifleman. "Did that rotten boat slingyou out too? When are they going to pick us up? The water's none toowarm. I'm feeling nipped already."
"Oh, it's you, Macready!" exclaimed Malcolm, recognizing aCanterbury farmer, a fellow of magnificent physique. "When are theygoing to pick us up, you ask? Can't say. I rather fancy they'll haveto reverse engines and stop before they lower a boat. That will takesome time."
He waited until he found himself on the crest of a long roller, andthen looked in the direction of the _Awarua_. The transport was nownearly two miles away. Whether she had slowed down or was stillsteaming ahead he could not determine. As far as he could see therewere no signs of a boat being lowered.
Macready was certainly right about the low temperature of the sea.Already Carr felt the numbing effect of the water. His fingers as hefumbled with the laces of his boots were practically devoid offeeling.
"I have one of those air waistcoats," explained the man. "It's onlypartly filled. Much as I could manage to do, that. I guess there's atidy drop of water got in while I was blowing. If we can get morewind into the thing it'll support two; at least I hope so. Thefellow at the stores said it would."
"Don't trouble on my account," said Malcolm. "I'll swim to thelife-buoy and bring it back."
The patent life-saving device was still emitting dense clouds ofcalcium smoke. Provided the expected rescuing-boat made for thatthere was a good chance of Malcolm and the rifleman being picked up,unless in the meanwhile they were over
come by the acute coldness ofthe water.
"Any signs of a boat, Sergeant?" asked the man, as Malcolm,evidently exhausted by his exertions, pushed the life-buoy beforehim to within arm's length of his companion in peril.
Malcolm was reluctantly obliged to admit that the probability ofrescue from that direction was of a diminishing nature. The _Awarua_was still holding on her course.
"Suppose they think that as we were a pair of fools to be slungoverboard we aren't worth picking up," continued Macready.
Malcolm did not reply. He did not attempt to enlighten the man as tothe reason why there were two "in the ditch" instead of one. He wasalso at a loss to explain the apparent callousness of theresponsible officer of Transport 99 in not promptly lowering a boatand effecting a speedy rescue.
The two men were too intent upon the disappearing _Awarua_ to noticethe approach of the escorting cruiser. The latter was circling roundthe transport, and was on the point of turning at a distance of amile astern, when the alert officer of the watch noticed theaccident to the boat.
Bringing his telescope to bear upon the _Awarua_, he could see quiteclearly the life-boat hanging by the bow tackle only. As he lookedhe was a distant witness of Sergeant Carr's leap into the sea.
Instinctively he grasped the situation and took prompt measures. Athis orders a signalman on the fore bridge set the arms of thesemaphore at "Attention". When the transport acknowledged thepreparatory signal the semaphore began to spell out its message:
"Carry on; we'll pick up your man."
"Away sea-boat's crew," was the next order, and quickly the fallswere manned, and the boat, containing her full complement, lowereduntil the keel was within a few feet of the water. Meanwhile thecruiser's engines had been reversed until her speed diminished fiveknots.
"Lower away!" was the next order.
With a resounding "smack" the boat "landed" on the crest of a wave.Dexterously the patent releasing-gear was operated, and, carriedonward with the momentum imparted by the still-moving cruiser, thesea-boat shot away from the side of her parent.
The order, "Give way, lads, for all you're worth!" given by themidshipman in charge, was somewhat unnecessary. At the prospect ofsaving life every man was pulling his hardest. The sharp bows of theboat literally cleft the water.
"Way 'nough. In bow," ordered the midshipman, a youth of sixteen orseventeen with the assurance of a successful barrister.
As neatly as if he were bringing a picket-boat alongside theflagship under the super-critical eye of the admiral, the midshipmansteered the boat close to the wellnigh exhausted men. Ready handslifted Malcolm and Macready into the stern-sheets, and within sevenminutes of the first order for the sea-boat to be manned, the twoNew Zealanders were standing upon the quarter-deck of H.M.S._Gosport_.
A Lively Bit of the Front: A Tale of the New Zealand Rifles on the Western Front Page 6