Chapter Eight.My first voyage.Wind south-south-west. The North Foreland had been rounded; the countless craft, of all sizes and rigs, generally to be found off the mouth of the Thames, had been cleared, and theGood Intent, with studding-sails alow and aloft, was standing across the German Ocean.Jim and I soon found our sea-legs, and were as well able to go aloft to reef topsails as the older hands. We were already well up to the ordinary duties of seamen, and could take our place at the helm with any of them.“Mr Gray was not mistaken about thee, laddie,” said the captain to me one day as I came aft to the wheel. “Go on as thou hast begun; obey God, and thou wilt prosper.”I was much pleased with this praise, for the old man was not given to throwing words away. While I steered he stood by telling me not only what to do then, but how to act under various circumstances. At other times he made me come into the cabin and gave me lessons in navigation to fit me to become a mate and master. Jim, being unable to read, and showing no aptitude for learning, had not the same advantages. We both of us lived forward with the men, some of whom were a little jealous of the favour I received, and not only played me tricks, ordered me to do all sorts of disagreeable jobs, and gave me a taste of therope’s-end on the sly, but tried hard to set Jim against me. They soon, however, found out that they were not likely to succeed, for though Jim did not mind how they treated him, he was always ready to stick up for me.The forecastle of theGood Intentwas thus not a paradise to either of us. The greater number of the men were, however, well-disposed, and it was only when they were on deck that the others dared to behave as I have described, while, as we would not complain, the mate knew nothing of what was going forward below. I remember thinking to myself, “If these sort of things can be done on board a ship, with a well-disciplined crew and a good captain and mate, how hard must be the lot of the unhappy boys serving in a craft where the captain, officers, and men are alike brutal!” Jim was always ready to oblige, and I did my best to win over my enemies by trying to show that I did not mind how they treated me, and I soon succeeded.We were, I should have said, bound out to Bergen, on the coast of Norway, for a cargo of hides, tallow, salt fish, and spars, which we were to carry to London. The weather had hitherto been fine, a great advantage to Jim and me, as we had time to learn our duties and to get accustomed to going aloft before our nerves and muscles were put to any severe test.But though the sea was smooth, the breeze, which had at first carried us briskly along, shifted to the northward, so that we made but slow progress. Now we stood on one tack, now on the other, the wind each time heading us. At last the grumblers began to declare that we should never make our port.“The old craft has got a run of ill-luck, there’s something worse a-going to happen,” said Sam Norris, one of my chief persecutors, as during his watch below he sat with his arms folded on his chest in the fore-peak. “I seed a black cat come aboard the night afore we left the docks, and no one knows that she ever went ashore again.”Some of the men looked uncomfortable at Sam’s statement, but others laughed.“What harm could the black cat do, if she did come aboard?” I inquired. “Probably she came to look for rats, and having killed all she could find, slipped ashore again unseen by any one.”“I didn’t say a she-cat. It looked like a big tom-cat; but who knows that it was really a cat at all?” said Sam.“If it wasn’t a tom-cat, what was it?” asked Bob Stout, a chum of Sam’s.“Just what neither you nor I would like to meet if we had to go down into the hold alone,” said Sam, in a mysterious tone.Just then the watch below was summoned on deck to shorten sail. Not a bit too soon either, and we were quickly swarming aloft and out on the yards.To reef sails in smooth water is easy enough, but when the ship is pitching into the fast-rising seas and heeling over to the gale, with the wind whistling through the rigging, blocks rattling, ropes lashing about, the hard canvas trying to escape from one’s grip, and blatters of rain and sleet and hail in one’s face, it is no pleasant matter. We had taken two reefs in the topsails, and even then the brig had as much canvas on her as she could stand up to, and we had all come down on deck, with the exception of Jim, who had been on the foreyard, when the mate, seeing a rope foul, ordered him to clear it. Jim performed his duty, but instead of coming down as he ought to have done, remained seated on the foreyard, holding on by the lift to get accustomed to the violent motion, in which he seemed to take a pleasure. The mate, not observing this, came aft to speak to the captain, who shortly afterwards, finding that the brig was falling off from the wind, which had before been baffling, having shifted ahead, ordered her to be put about.“Down with the helm,” cried the captain.I saw the men hauling at the braces, when, looking up, I caught sight of Jim at the yardarm. I shrieked out with terror, expecting that the next instant, as the yardarm swung round, he would be dashed to pieces on the deck, or hove off into the raging sea. The kind-hearted mate, recollecting him, came rushing forward, also believing that his destruction was certain, unless he could be caught as he fell. My heart beat, and my eyes were fixed on my friend as if they would start out of my head I wildly stretched out my hands, yet I felt that I could do nothing to save him, when he made a desperate spring, and catching hold of the backstay, came gliding down by it on deck as if nothing particular had happened, scarcely conscious, indeed, of the fearful danger he had escaped. The mate rated him in stronger language than he generally used for his carelessness, winding up by asking:“Where do you think you would have been, boy, if you hadn’t have jumped when you did or had missed your aim?”“Praise God for His great mercy to thee, laddie, and may thou never forget it all the days of thy life,” said the old captain, who had beckoned Jim aft to speak to him.Jim, touching his hat, answered, “Ay, ay, sir!” but he was, perhaps, less aware of the danger he had been in than any one on board.The gale increased; several heavy seas struck the old brig, making her quiver from stem to stern, and at last one heavier than the rest breaking on board, carried the starboard bulwarks forward clean away. Some of the men were below; Jim and I and others were aft, and the rest, though half-drowned, managed to secure themselves. To avoid the risk of another sea striking her in the same fashion, the brig was hove-to under a close-reefed fore-topsail. As we had plenty of sea room, and the brig was tight as a bottle, so the mate affirmed, there was no danger; still, I for one heartily wished that the weather would moderate. I had gone aft, being sent by the cook to obtain the ingredients of a plum-pudding for the cabin dinner. Not thinking of danger, on my return I ran along on the lee side of the deck, but before I reached the caboose I saw a mountain sea rolling up with a terrific roar, and I heard a voice from aft shout, “Hold on for your lives!” Letting go the basin and dish I had in my hands, I grasped frantically at the nearest object I could meet with. It was a handspike sticking in the windlass, but it proved a treacherous holdfast, for, to my horror, out it came at the instant that the foaming sea broke on board, and away I was carried amid the whirl of waters right out through the shattered bulwarks. All hope of escape abandoned me. In that dreadful moment it seemed that every incident in my life came back to my memory; but Mary was the chief object of my thoughts. I knew that I was being carried off into the hungry ocean, and, as I supposed, there was no human aid at hand to save me, when the brig gave a violent lee lurch, and before I was borne away from her side I felt myself seized by the collar of my jacket, and dragged by a powerful arm, breathless and stunned with the roar of waters in my ears, into the galley.The cook, who had retreated within it when the sea struck the brig, had caught sight of me, and at the risk of his life had darted out, as a cat springs on her prey, and saved me. I quickly recovered my senses, but was not prepared for the torrent of abuse which my preserver, Bob Fritters, poured out on me for having come along on the lee instead of the weather side of the deck.Two or three of the watch who had been aft and fancied that I had been carried overboard, when they found that I was safe, instead of expressing any satisfaction, joined the cook in rating me for my folly. Feeling as I suppose a half-drowned rat might do, I was glad to make my escape below, where, with the assistance of Jim, I shifted into dry clothes, while he hurried on deck to obtain a fresh supply of materials for the captain’s pudding. Shortly after this the gale abated, and the brig was again put on her course.I had been sent aloft one morning soon after daybreak to loose the fore-royal, when I saw right ahead a range of blue mountains, rising above the mist which still hung over the ocean. I knew that it must be the coast of Norway, for which we were bound.“Land! Land!” I shouted, pointing in the direction I saw the mountains, which I guessed were not visible from the deck.The mate soon came aloft to judge for himself. “You are right, Peter,” he said. “We have made a good landfall, for if I mistake not we are just abreast of the entrance to the Bay of Jeltefiord, at the farther end of which stands Bergen, the town we are bound for.”The mate was right. The breeze freshening we stood on, and in the course of the morning we ran between lofty and rugged rocks for several miles, through the narrow Straits of Carmesundt into the bay—or fiord rather—till we came to an anchor off the picturesque old town of Bergen. It was a thriving, bustling place; the inhabitants, people from all the northern nations of Europe, mostly engaged in mercantile pursuits.We soon discharged our cargo and began taking on board a very miscellaneous one, including a considerable quantity of spars to form the masts and yards of small vessels. The day seemed to me wonderfully long, indeed there was scarcely any night. Of course, we had plenty of hard work, as we were engaged for a large part of the twenty-four hours in hoisting in cargo. I should have thought all hands would have been too tired to think of carrying on any tricks, but it seemed that two or three of them had conceived a spite against Jim because he would not turn against me.One of our best men, Ned Andrews, who did duty as second mate, had brought for his own use a small cask of sugar, as only molasses and pea-coffee were served out forward. One morning, as I was employed aft under the captain’s directions, Andrews came up and complained that on opening his cask he found it stuffed full of dirty clouts and the sugar gone. I never saw the captain so indignant.“A thief on board my brig!” he exclaimed; “verily, I’ll make an example of him, whoever he is.”Calling the mate, he ordered him forthwith to examine all the men’s chests, supposing that the thief must have stowed the sugar in his own.“Go, Peter, and help him,” he added, “for I am sure that thou, my son, art not the guilty one.”I followed the mate into the fore-peak. Having first demanded the keys from the owners of those which were locked, he examined chest after chest, making me hold up the lids while he turned out the contents or plunged his hands to the bottom. No sugar was found in any of them. He then came to my chest, which I knew was not locked, and the idea came into my head that the stolen property would be there. I showed some anxiety, I suspect, as I lifted up the lid. The mate put in his hands with a careless air, as if he had no idea of the sort. Greatly to my relief he found nothing. There was but one chest to be examined. It was Jim’s.Scarcely had I opened it when the mate, throwing off a jacket spread over the top, uttered an exclamation of surprise. There exposed to view was a large wooden bowl, procured the day before by the steward for washing up glasses and cups, and supposed to have fallen overboard, cram full of sugar.“Bring it along aft,” cried the mate. “I did not think that of Pulley.”“And I don’t think it now, sir,” I answered, in a confident tone, as I obeyed his order.“What’s this? Where was it found?” inquired the captain, as we reached the quarter-deck.The mate told him.“I’ll swear Jim never put it there, sir; not he!” I exclaimed.“Swear not at all, my son, albeit thou mayest be right,” said the captain. “Send James Pulley aft.”Jim quickly came.“Hast thou, James Pulley, been guilty of stealing thy shipmate’s sugar?” asked the captain.“No, sir, please you, I never took it, and never put it where they say it was found,” answered Jim, boldly.“Appearances are sadly against thee, James Pulley,” observed the captain, with more sorrow than anger in his tone. “This matter must be investigated.”“I am sure that Jim speaks the truth, sir,” I exclaimed, unable to contain myself. “Somebody else stole the sugar and put it in his chest.”The crew had gathered aft, and two or three looked thunder-clouds at me as I spoke.“Thine assertion needs proof,” observed the captain. “Was thy cask of sugar open, Andrews?”“No, sir, tightly headed up,” answered Andrews.“Then it must have been forced open by some iron instrument,” said the captain. “Bring it aft here.”The empty keg was brought.“I thought so,” remarked the captain. “An axe was used to prise it open. Did any one see an axe in the hands of James Pulley?”There was no reply for some time. At last, Ben Grimes, one of the men who had always been most hostile to Jim and me, said, “I thinks I seed Jim Pulley going along the deck with what looked mighty like the handle of an axe sticking out from under his jacket.”“The evidence is much against thee, James Pulley,” said the captain. “I must, as in duty bound, report this affair to Mr Gray on our return, and it will, of course, prevent him from bestowing any further favours on you.”“I didn’t do it. I’d sooner have had my right hand cut off than have done it,” cried Jim. “Let me go ashore, sir, and I’ll try to gain my daily bread as I best can. I can’t bear to stay aboard here to be called a thief; though Peter Trawl knows I didn’t take the sugar; he’d never believe that of me; and the mate doesn’t, and Andrews himself doesn’t.”“I am sorry for thee, lad. Thou must prove thine innocence,” said the captain, turning away.Poor Jim was very unhappy. Though both he and I were convinced that one of the men for spite had put the sugar in his chest, we could not fix on the guilty person. I did my best to comfort him. He talked of running from the ship, but I persuaded him not to think more of doing so foolish a thing.“Stay, and your innocence will appear in due time,” I said.As we went about the deck we heard Grimes and others whispering, “Birds of a feather flock together.”They bullied Jim and me worse than ever, and took every occasion to call him a young thief, and other bad names besides. They saw how it vexed him, and that made them abuse him worse than before. The day after this we sailed. Poor Jim declared that if he could not clear himself he would never show his face in Portsmouth. I was sure that Andrews and the other good men did not believe him to be guilty, but they could not prove his innocence; and, as he said, the others would take care to blabber about him, and, worst of all, Mr Gray would think him a thief.An easterly breeze carried us clear of the harbour, but the wind then shifted to the southward, and then to the south-west, being very light, so that after three days we had not lost sight of the coast of Norway. There seemed every probability of our having a long passage. Some of the men said it was all owing to the black cat, and Grimes declared that we must expect ill-luck with such a psalm-singing Methodist old skipper as we had. Even Andrews prognosticated evil, but his idea was that it would be brought about by an old woman he had seen on shore, said by everyone to be a powerful witch. As, however, according to Andrews, she had the power of raising storms, and we had only to complain of calms and baffling winds, I could not see that she had had any influence over us.At last we got so far to the westward that we lost sight of the coast of Norway, but had not made good a mile to the southward—we had rather indeed drifted to the northward. Meantime, the captain hearing from the mate how the men were grumbling, called all hands aft.“Lads, I want ye to listen to me,” he said. “Some of ye fancy that we are having these calms and baffling winds on one account, and some on another, but this I know, that He who rules the seas does not allow any other beings to interfere with His plans. Ye have heard, maybe, however, of the prophet Jonah. Once upon a time, Jonah, when ordered by God to go to a certain place and perform a certain duty, disobeyed his Master, and trying to escape from Him took passage on board a ship, fancying that he could get out of God’s sight. Did he succeed? No! God had His eye on Jonah, and caused a hurricane which well-nigh sent the ship to the bottom. Not till Jonah was hove overboard did the tempest cease. Now, lads, just understand there are some aboard this brig who are disobeying Him and offending Him just as much as Jonah did, and it’s not for me to say that He does not allow these calms, so unusual in this latitude, to prevail in consequence. That’s all I’ve got to say, lads, but ye’ll just think over it; and now go forward.”Whether or not the men did think over it, or exactly understood what the old man meant, I cannot say, but the next morning the carpenter came aft to the captain and said that he had had a dream which made him remember that the evening before Andrews’s sugar was found to have been stolen, Ben Grimes had borrowed an axe from him, on examining which afterwards he discovered that a small piece had been broken off on one side, and that Grimes acknowledged he had done it by striking a nail in a piece of wood he was chopping up. On hearing this the captain again summoned all hands aft, and ordered Andrews to bring his sugar cask. There in the head was found a piece of iron which exactly fitted the notch in the axe which the carpenter produced.“Now, lads, say who stole Andrews’s sugar and concealed it in Pulley’s chest?” asked the skipper.“Grimes! Grimes! No doubt about it!” shouted all the men, with the exception of the individual mentioned and one other.“You are right, lads, and Pulley is innocent,” said the skipper.“As the babe unborn,” answered the men, and they all, except Grimes and his chum, following my example, gave Jim a hearty shake of the hand.I thought that he would have blubbered outright with pleasure. Though I was sure that Jim had never touched the sugar, I was thankful that the captain and the rest were convinced of his innocence.Before noon that day a dark bank of clouds was seen coming up from the southward. In a short time several black masses broke away from the main body, and came careering across the sky.“Away aloft and shorten sail,” cried the skipper. “Be smart, lads!”We hurried up the rigging, for there was no time to be lost.“Two reefs in the fore-topsail! Furl the main-topsail! Let fly topgallant sheets!”These orders came in quick succession. The captain, aided by the mate, was meantime lowering the mainsail. He at first, I believe, intended to heave the brig to, but, before the canvas was reduced the gale struck her—over she heeled—the topgallant sails, with their masts, were carried away just as Jim and I were about mounting the rigging, he the fore and I the main, to furl them; the mainsail, only half lowered, flying out, nearly knocked the mate overboard. I had got down on the weather side of the main-topsail yard to assist the hands on it, when the straining canvas broke loose from our grasp, and at the same instant the topgallant rigging, striking the two men on the lee yardarm, hurled them off into the foaming ocean.To lower a boat was impossible; we had not strength sufficient as it was to clear away the topgallant masts, and to hand the topsails. A grating and some spars were hove to them by the mate, who then, axe in hand, sprang aloft to assist us. None too soon, for we could do nothing but cling on to the yard till the topgallant rigging was cleared away. The men on the foreyard were more successful, and I saw Jim gallantly using his knife in a fashion which at length cleared away the wreck and enabled them to secure the sail. The mate succeeded also in his object, and we were expecting them to assist us in attempting to furl the main-topsail, when the captain, seeing that we were not likely to succeed, calling us down, ordered the helm to be put up and the yards squared away, and off we ran before the fast-increasing gale, leaving, we feared, our two shipmates, the carpenter and Grimes, to perish miserably.
Wind south-south-west. The North Foreland had been rounded; the countless craft, of all sizes and rigs, generally to be found off the mouth of the Thames, had been cleared, and theGood Intent, with studding-sails alow and aloft, was standing across the German Ocean.
Jim and I soon found our sea-legs, and were as well able to go aloft to reef topsails as the older hands. We were already well up to the ordinary duties of seamen, and could take our place at the helm with any of them.
“Mr Gray was not mistaken about thee, laddie,” said the captain to me one day as I came aft to the wheel. “Go on as thou hast begun; obey God, and thou wilt prosper.”
I was much pleased with this praise, for the old man was not given to throwing words away. While I steered he stood by telling me not only what to do then, but how to act under various circumstances. At other times he made me come into the cabin and gave me lessons in navigation to fit me to become a mate and master. Jim, being unable to read, and showing no aptitude for learning, had not the same advantages. We both of us lived forward with the men, some of whom were a little jealous of the favour I received, and not only played me tricks, ordered me to do all sorts of disagreeable jobs, and gave me a taste of therope’s-end on the sly, but tried hard to set Jim against me. They soon, however, found out that they were not likely to succeed, for though Jim did not mind how they treated him, he was always ready to stick up for me.
The forecastle of theGood Intentwas thus not a paradise to either of us. The greater number of the men were, however, well-disposed, and it was only when they were on deck that the others dared to behave as I have described, while, as we would not complain, the mate knew nothing of what was going forward below. I remember thinking to myself, “If these sort of things can be done on board a ship, with a well-disciplined crew and a good captain and mate, how hard must be the lot of the unhappy boys serving in a craft where the captain, officers, and men are alike brutal!” Jim was always ready to oblige, and I did my best to win over my enemies by trying to show that I did not mind how they treated me, and I soon succeeded.
We were, I should have said, bound out to Bergen, on the coast of Norway, for a cargo of hides, tallow, salt fish, and spars, which we were to carry to London. The weather had hitherto been fine, a great advantage to Jim and me, as we had time to learn our duties and to get accustomed to going aloft before our nerves and muscles were put to any severe test.
But though the sea was smooth, the breeze, which had at first carried us briskly along, shifted to the northward, so that we made but slow progress. Now we stood on one tack, now on the other, the wind each time heading us. At last the grumblers began to declare that we should never make our port.
“The old craft has got a run of ill-luck, there’s something worse a-going to happen,” said Sam Norris, one of my chief persecutors, as during his watch below he sat with his arms folded on his chest in the fore-peak. “I seed a black cat come aboard the night afore we left the docks, and no one knows that she ever went ashore again.”
Some of the men looked uncomfortable at Sam’s statement, but others laughed.
“What harm could the black cat do, if she did come aboard?” I inquired. “Probably she came to look for rats, and having killed all she could find, slipped ashore again unseen by any one.”
“I didn’t say a she-cat. It looked like a big tom-cat; but who knows that it was really a cat at all?” said Sam.
“If it wasn’t a tom-cat, what was it?” asked Bob Stout, a chum of Sam’s.
“Just what neither you nor I would like to meet if we had to go down into the hold alone,” said Sam, in a mysterious tone.
Just then the watch below was summoned on deck to shorten sail. Not a bit too soon either, and we were quickly swarming aloft and out on the yards.
To reef sails in smooth water is easy enough, but when the ship is pitching into the fast-rising seas and heeling over to the gale, with the wind whistling through the rigging, blocks rattling, ropes lashing about, the hard canvas trying to escape from one’s grip, and blatters of rain and sleet and hail in one’s face, it is no pleasant matter. We had taken two reefs in the topsails, and even then the brig had as much canvas on her as she could stand up to, and we had all come down on deck, with the exception of Jim, who had been on the foreyard, when the mate, seeing a rope foul, ordered him to clear it. Jim performed his duty, but instead of coming down as he ought to have done, remained seated on the foreyard, holding on by the lift to get accustomed to the violent motion, in which he seemed to take a pleasure. The mate, not observing this, came aft to speak to the captain, who shortly afterwards, finding that the brig was falling off from the wind, which had before been baffling, having shifted ahead, ordered her to be put about.
“Down with the helm,” cried the captain.
I saw the men hauling at the braces, when, looking up, I caught sight of Jim at the yardarm. I shrieked out with terror, expecting that the next instant, as the yardarm swung round, he would be dashed to pieces on the deck, or hove off into the raging sea. The kind-hearted mate, recollecting him, came rushing forward, also believing that his destruction was certain, unless he could be caught as he fell. My heart beat, and my eyes were fixed on my friend as if they would start out of my head I wildly stretched out my hands, yet I felt that I could do nothing to save him, when he made a desperate spring, and catching hold of the backstay, came gliding down by it on deck as if nothing particular had happened, scarcely conscious, indeed, of the fearful danger he had escaped. The mate rated him in stronger language than he generally used for his carelessness, winding up by asking:
“Where do you think you would have been, boy, if you hadn’t have jumped when you did or had missed your aim?”
“Praise God for His great mercy to thee, laddie, and may thou never forget it all the days of thy life,” said the old captain, who had beckoned Jim aft to speak to him.
Jim, touching his hat, answered, “Ay, ay, sir!” but he was, perhaps, less aware of the danger he had been in than any one on board.
The gale increased; several heavy seas struck the old brig, making her quiver from stem to stern, and at last one heavier than the rest breaking on board, carried the starboard bulwarks forward clean away. Some of the men were below; Jim and I and others were aft, and the rest, though half-drowned, managed to secure themselves. To avoid the risk of another sea striking her in the same fashion, the brig was hove-to under a close-reefed fore-topsail. As we had plenty of sea room, and the brig was tight as a bottle, so the mate affirmed, there was no danger; still, I for one heartily wished that the weather would moderate. I had gone aft, being sent by the cook to obtain the ingredients of a plum-pudding for the cabin dinner. Not thinking of danger, on my return I ran along on the lee side of the deck, but before I reached the caboose I saw a mountain sea rolling up with a terrific roar, and I heard a voice from aft shout, “Hold on for your lives!” Letting go the basin and dish I had in my hands, I grasped frantically at the nearest object I could meet with. It was a handspike sticking in the windlass, but it proved a treacherous holdfast, for, to my horror, out it came at the instant that the foaming sea broke on board, and away I was carried amid the whirl of waters right out through the shattered bulwarks. All hope of escape abandoned me. In that dreadful moment it seemed that every incident in my life came back to my memory; but Mary was the chief object of my thoughts. I knew that I was being carried off into the hungry ocean, and, as I supposed, there was no human aid at hand to save me, when the brig gave a violent lee lurch, and before I was borne away from her side I felt myself seized by the collar of my jacket, and dragged by a powerful arm, breathless and stunned with the roar of waters in my ears, into the galley.
The cook, who had retreated within it when the sea struck the brig, had caught sight of me, and at the risk of his life had darted out, as a cat springs on her prey, and saved me. I quickly recovered my senses, but was not prepared for the torrent of abuse which my preserver, Bob Fritters, poured out on me for having come along on the lee instead of the weather side of the deck.
Two or three of the watch who had been aft and fancied that I had been carried overboard, when they found that I was safe, instead of expressing any satisfaction, joined the cook in rating me for my folly. Feeling as I suppose a half-drowned rat might do, I was glad to make my escape below, where, with the assistance of Jim, I shifted into dry clothes, while he hurried on deck to obtain a fresh supply of materials for the captain’s pudding. Shortly after this the gale abated, and the brig was again put on her course.
I had been sent aloft one morning soon after daybreak to loose the fore-royal, when I saw right ahead a range of blue mountains, rising above the mist which still hung over the ocean. I knew that it must be the coast of Norway, for which we were bound.
“Land! Land!” I shouted, pointing in the direction I saw the mountains, which I guessed were not visible from the deck.
The mate soon came aloft to judge for himself. “You are right, Peter,” he said. “We have made a good landfall, for if I mistake not we are just abreast of the entrance to the Bay of Jeltefiord, at the farther end of which stands Bergen, the town we are bound for.”
The mate was right. The breeze freshening we stood on, and in the course of the morning we ran between lofty and rugged rocks for several miles, through the narrow Straits of Carmesundt into the bay—or fiord rather—till we came to an anchor off the picturesque old town of Bergen. It was a thriving, bustling place; the inhabitants, people from all the northern nations of Europe, mostly engaged in mercantile pursuits.
We soon discharged our cargo and began taking on board a very miscellaneous one, including a considerable quantity of spars to form the masts and yards of small vessels. The day seemed to me wonderfully long, indeed there was scarcely any night. Of course, we had plenty of hard work, as we were engaged for a large part of the twenty-four hours in hoisting in cargo. I should have thought all hands would have been too tired to think of carrying on any tricks, but it seemed that two or three of them had conceived a spite against Jim because he would not turn against me.
One of our best men, Ned Andrews, who did duty as second mate, had brought for his own use a small cask of sugar, as only molasses and pea-coffee were served out forward. One morning, as I was employed aft under the captain’s directions, Andrews came up and complained that on opening his cask he found it stuffed full of dirty clouts and the sugar gone. I never saw the captain so indignant.
“A thief on board my brig!” he exclaimed; “verily, I’ll make an example of him, whoever he is.”
Calling the mate, he ordered him forthwith to examine all the men’s chests, supposing that the thief must have stowed the sugar in his own.
“Go, Peter, and help him,” he added, “for I am sure that thou, my son, art not the guilty one.”
I followed the mate into the fore-peak. Having first demanded the keys from the owners of those which were locked, he examined chest after chest, making me hold up the lids while he turned out the contents or plunged his hands to the bottom. No sugar was found in any of them. He then came to my chest, which I knew was not locked, and the idea came into my head that the stolen property would be there. I showed some anxiety, I suspect, as I lifted up the lid. The mate put in his hands with a careless air, as if he had no idea of the sort. Greatly to my relief he found nothing. There was but one chest to be examined. It was Jim’s.
Scarcely had I opened it when the mate, throwing off a jacket spread over the top, uttered an exclamation of surprise. There exposed to view was a large wooden bowl, procured the day before by the steward for washing up glasses and cups, and supposed to have fallen overboard, cram full of sugar.
“Bring it along aft,” cried the mate. “I did not think that of Pulley.”
“And I don’t think it now, sir,” I answered, in a confident tone, as I obeyed his order.
“What’s this? Where was it found?” inquired the captain, as we reached the quarter-deck.
The mate told him.
“I’ll swear Jim never put it there, sir; not he!” I exclaimed.
“Swear not at all, my son, albeit thou mayest be right,” said the captain. “Send James Pulley aft.”
Jim quickly came.
“Hast thou, James Pulley, been guilty of stealing thy shipmate’s sugar?” asked the captain.
“No, sir, please you, I never took it, and never put it where they say it was found,” answered Jim, boldly.
“Appearances are sadly against thee, James Pulley,” observed the captain, with more sorrow than anger in his tone. “This matter must be investigated.”
“I am sure that Jim speaks the truth, sir,” I exclaimed, unable to contain myself. “Somebody else stole the sugar and put it in his chest.”
The crew had gathered aft, and two or three looked thunder-clouds at me as I spoke.
“Thine assertion needs proof,” observed the captain. “Was thy cask of sugar open, Andrews?”
“No, sir, tightly headed up,” answered Andrews.
“Then it must have been forced open by some iron instrument,” said the captain. “Bring it aft here.”
The empty keg was brought.
“I thought so,” remarked the captain. “An axe was used to prise it open. Did any one see an axe in the hands of James Pulley?”
There was no reply for some time. At last, Ben Grimes, one of the men who had always been most hostile to Jim and me, said, “I thinks I seed Jim Pulley going along the deck with what looked mighty like the handle of an axe sticking out from under his jacket.”
“The evidence is much against thee, James Pulley,” said the captain. “I must, as in duty bound, report this affair to Mr Gray on our return, and it will, of course, prevent him from bestowing any further favours on you.”
“I didn’t do it. I’d sooner have had my right hand cut off than have done it,” cried Jim. “Let me go ashore, sir, and I’ll try to gain my daily bread as I best can. I can’t bear to stay aboard here to be called a thief; though Peter Trawl knows I didn’t take the sugar; he’d never believe that of me; and the mate doesn’t, and Andrews himself doesn’t.”
“I am sorry for thee, lad. Thou must prove thine innocence,” said the captain, turning away.
Poor Jim was very unhappy. Though both he and I were convinced that one of the men for spite had put the sugar in his chest, we could not fix on the guilty person. I did my best to comfort him. He talked of running from the ship, but I persuaded him not to think more of doing so foolish a thing.
“Stay, and your innocence will appear in due time,” I said.
As we went about the deck we heard Grimes and others whispering, “Birds of a feather flock together.”
They bullied Jim and me worse than ever, and took every occasion to call him a young thief, and other bad names besides. They saw how it vexed him, and that made them abuse him worse than before. The day after this we sailed. Poor Jim declared that if he could not clear himself he would never show his face in Portsmouth. I was sure that Andrews and the other good men did not believe him to be guilty, but they could not prove his innocence; and, as he said, the others would take care to blabber about him, and, worst of all, Mr Gray would think him a thief.
An easterly breeze carried us clear of the harbour, but the wind then shifted to the southward, and then to the south-west, being very light, so that after three days we had not lost sight of the coast of Norway. There seemed every probability of our having a long passage. Some of the men said it was all owing to the black cat, and Grimes declared that we must expect ill-luck with such a psalm-singing Methodist old skipper as we had. Even Andrews prognosticated evil, but his idea was that it would be brought about by an old woman he had seen on shore, said by everyone to be a powerful witch. As, however, according to Andrews, she had the power of raising storms, and we had only to complain of calms and baffling winds, I could not see that she had had any influence over us.
At last we got so far to the westward that we lost sight of the coast of Norway, but had not made good a mile to the southward—we had rather indeed drifted to the northward. Meantime, the captain hearing from the mate how the men were grumbling, called all hands aft.
“Lads, I want ye to listen to me,” he said. “Some of ye fancy that we are having these calms and baffling winds on one account, and some on another, but this I know, that He who rules the seas does not allow any other beings to interfere with His plans. Ye have heard, maybe, however, of the prophet Jonah. Once upon a time, Jonah, when ordered by God to go to a certain place and perform a certain duty, disobeyed his Master, and trying to escape from Him took passage on board a ship, fancying that he could get out of God’s sight. Did he succeed? No! God had His eye on Jonah, and caused a hurricane which well-nigh sent the ship to the bottom. Not till Jonah was hove overboard did the tempest cease. Now, lads, just understand there are some aboard this brig who are disobeying Him and offending Him just as much as Jonah did, and it’s not for me to say that He does not allow these calms, so unusual in this latitude, to prevail in consequence. That’s all I’ve got to say, lads, but ye’ll just think over it; and now go forward.”
Whether or not the men did think over it, or exactly understood what the old man meant, I cannot say, but the next morning the carpenter came aft to the captain and said that he had had a dream which made him remember that the evening before Andrews’s sugar was found to have been stolen, Ben Grimes had borrowed an axe from him, on examining which afterwards he discovered that a small piece had been broken off on one side, and that Grimes acknowledged he had done it by striking a nail in a piece of wood he was chopping up. On hearing this the captain again summoned all hands aft, and ordered Andrews to bring his sugar cask. There in the head was found a piece of iron which exactly fitted the notch in the axe which the carpenter produced.
“Now, lads, say who stole Andrews’s sugar and concealed it in Pulley’s chest?” asked the skipper.
“Grimes! Grimes! No doubt about it!” shouted all the men, with the exception of the individual mentioned and one other.
“You are right, lads, and Pulley is innocent,” said the skipper.
“As the babe unborn,” answered the men, and they all, except Grimes and his chum, following my example, gave Jim a hearty shake of the hand.
I thought that he would have blubbered outright with pleasure. Though I was sure that Jim had never touched the sugar, I was thankful that the captain and the rest were convinced of his innocence.
Before noon that day a dark bank of clouds was seen coming up from the southward. In a short time several black masses broke away from the main body, and came careering across the sky.
“Away aloft and shorten sail,” cried the skipper. “Be smart, lads!”
We hurried up the rigging, for there was no time to be lost.
“Two reefs in the fore-topsail! Furl the main-topsail! Let fly topgallant sheets!”
These orders came in quick succession. The captain, aided by the mate, was meantime lowering the mainsail. He at first, I believe, intended to heave the brig to, but, before the canvas was reduced the gale struck her—over she heeled—the topgallant sails, with their masts, were carried away just as Jim and I were about mounting the rigging, he the fore and I the main, to furl them; the mainsail, only half lowered, flying out, nearly knocked the mate overboard. I had got down on the weather side of the main-topsail yard to assist the hands on it, when the straining canvas broke loose from our grasp, and at the same instant the topgallant rigging, striking the two men on the lee yardarm, hurled them off into the foaming ocean.
To lower a boat was impossible; we had not strength sufficient as it was to clear away the topgallant masts, and to hand the topsails. A grating and some spars were hove to them by the mate, who then, axe in hand, sprang aloft to assist us. None too soon, for we could do nothing but cling on to the yard till the topgallant rigging was cleared away. The men on the foreyard were more successful, and I saw Jim gallantly using his knife in a fashion which at length cleared away the wreck and enabled them to secure the sail. The mate succeeded also in his object, and we were expecting them to assist us in attempting to furl the main-topsail, when the captain, seeing that we were not likely to succeed, calling us down, ordered the helm to be put up and the yards squared away, and off we ran before the fast-increasing gale, leaving, we feared, our two shipmates, the carpenter and Grimes, to perish miserably.
Chapter Nine.I experience the perils of the sea.TheGood Intentran on before the increasing gale. The fast-rising seas came rolling up astern, threatening every instant to poop her, for, having a full cargo, she was much deeper in the water than when we sailed from Portsmouth. We quickly lost sight of the grating and spars thrown to our hapless shipmates, and they themselves had before then disappeared.The first thing now to be done was to get the main-topsail stowed, for, flying wildly in the wind, it seemed as if about to carry away the main-topmast. The mate, Andrews, and two other men were on the point of going aloft to try and haul it in, in spite of the danger they ran in so doing, when a report like that of thunder was heard, and the sail, split into ribbons, was torn from the bolt-ropes. The fragments, after streaming out wildly in the wind, lashed themselves round and round the yard, thus saving us the hazardous task of attempting to furl the sail.The brig flew on, now plunging into the roaring and foaming seas, now rolling from side to side so that it was difficult to keep our feet. The fore-staysail and jib had been stowed in time, and the flying jib had been blown away, so that the fore-topsail was the only sail set.Thus hour after hour passed. Had we been running in the opposite direction we should have been making good progress, but we were now going farther and farther from our destination, to be driven into even worse weather, and perhaps to have to make our way south round the Irish coast. To avoid this, the captain was anxious to heave the brig to, and I saw him and the mate consulting how it could be done. It was a dangerous operation, they both knew, for should she not quickly come up to the wind, a sea might strike her on the broadside and sweep over her deck, or throw her on her beam-ends.“If we get a lull it must be done,” said the captain.“Ay, ay, sir!” answered the mate; and he ordered the men to stand ready to brace round the fore-topsail-yard as the brig came up to the wind.Still we watched in vain for the wished-for lull. In spite of the roaring seas I felt wonderfully sleepy, and could scarcely keep my eyes open as I held on to a stanchion at the after-part of the deck. Jim was much in the same condition, for we had both been on foot since the morning watch had been called, and we had had no food all day.The kind captain, observing the state we were in, instead of abusing us, as some skippers would have done, ordered us to go below to find something to eat and to lie down till we were wanted. We were making our way forward when he shouted out—“Go into the cabin, laddies. There is some bread and cheese in the pantry, and ye’ll be ready at hand when I call ye.”We quickly slipped below, and he again closed the companion-hatch which he had opened to let us descend. The other hatches had been battened down, for at any moment a sea might break on board, and if they had not been secured, might fill the vessel.Not a ray of light came below, but Jim and I, groping about, found the bread and cheese we were in search of and soon satisfied our hunger. We then, thankful to get some rest, lay down on the deck of the cabin—which landsmen would call the floor—for we should have considered it presumptuous to stretch ourselves in one of the berths or even on the locker; and in spite of the rolling and pitching of the brig we were quickly fast asleep.I seldom dreamed in those days, but, though tired as I was, my slumbers were troubled. Now I fancied that the brig was sinking, but that, somehow or other, I came to the surface, and was striking out amid the raging billows for the land; then I thought that I was again on board, and that the brig, after rushing rapidly on, struck upon a huge reef of black rocks, when, in an instant, her timbers split asunder, and we were all hurled into the seething waters. Suddenly I was awoke by the thundering, crashing sound of a tremendous blow on the side of the vessel, and I found myself hove right across the cabin, clutching fast hold of Jim, who shouted out, “Hillo, Peter, what is the matter? Are we all going to be drowned?”Before I could answer him there came from above us—indeed, it had begun while he was speaking—a deafening mingling of terrific noises, of rending planks, of falling spars, the rush and swirl and roar of waters, amid which could be heard the faint cries of human voices.The brig had been thrown on her beam-ends; of that there could be no doubt, for when we attempted to get on our feet we found the deck of the cabin almost perpendicular.“Do you think the brig will go down?” shouted Jim.The hubbub was so great that it was impossible to hear each other unless we spoke at the very top of our voices.“We must, at all events, get on deck as soon as we can, and do our best to save ourselves,” I answered.Though I said this, I had very little hope of escaping, as I thought that the vessel might at any moment founder. Even to get on deck was no easy matter, for everything in the cabin was upside down—boxes and bales, and casks and articles of all sorts, thrown out of the lockers, mixed with the furniture which had broken adrift, were knocking about, while all the time we were in complete darkness. The dead-lights had fortunately been closed at the commencement of the gale, and the companion-hatch remained secure, so that, as yet, no water came below.Getting on our feet we were endeavouring to grope our way to the companion-ladder when we heard two loud crashes in quick succession, and directly afterwards, the brig righting with a violent jerk, we were thrown half across the cabin, bruised and almost stunned, among the numberless things knocking violently about. After a time, on recovering our senses, we picked ourselves up and made another attempt to get on deck. I now began to hope that the brig would not go down as soon as I had expected, but still I knew that she was in a fearfully perilous condition. I was sure from the crashing sounds we had heard that both her masts were gone: that very probably also she had sprung a leak, while we were far to the northward of the usual track of vessels.At last we found our way to the cabin door, but groped about in vain for the companion-ladder, till Jim suggested that it had been unshipped when the vessel went over. After some time we found it, but had great difficulty, in consequence of the way the brig was rolling, to get it replaced. As soon as it was so I mounted and shouted as loud as I could to some one to come and lift off the hatch.No voice replied. Again and again I shouted, fancying that the people might have gone forward for some reason or other and had forgotten us.“What can have happened?” cried Jim, in a tone of alarm.I dared not answer him, for I feared the worst.Feeling about, I discovered an axe slung just inside the companion-hatch, on which I began hammering away with all my might—but still no one came.“Jim, I’m afraid they must all be gone,” I cried out at last.“Gone!” he exclaimed. “What, the old captain, and mate, and Andrews, and the rest?”“I am afraid so,” I answered.Again I shouted and knocked. Still no one came.“We must break open the hatch,” I said, and I attempted to force up the top with the axe, but did not succeed.“Let me try,” cried Jim; “my arm is stronger than yours.”I got down the ladder and gave him the axe. He took my place and began working away at the part where the hatch was placed. I could hear him giving stroke after stroke, but could see nothing, for the hatch fitted so closely that not a gleam of light came through it.Presently I heard him sing out, “I’ve done it,” and I knew by the rush of cold damp air which came down below that he had got off the hatch.Still all was dark, but looking up I could distinguish the cloudy sky. Not till then did I know that it was night. We had gone to sleep in broad daylight, and I had no idea of the number of hours which had passed by since then. I sprang up the companion-ladder after Jim, who had stepped out on deck.The spectacle which met my eyes was appalling. The masts were gone, carried away a few feet from the deck—only the stumps were standing—everything had been swept clear away, the caboose, the boats, the bulwark; the brig was a complete wreck; the dark foam-topped seas were rising up high above the deck, threatening to engulf her.The masts were still alongside hanging on by the rigging, their butt ends every now and then striking against her with so terrific a force that I feared they must before long drive a hole through the planking. As far as I could make out through the thick gloom, some spars which had apparently fallen before the masts gave way lay about the deck, kept from being washed away by the rigging attached to them having become entangled in the stanchions and the remaining portions of the shattered bulwarks.Not one of our shipmates could we see. Again we shouted, in the faint hope that some of them might be lying concealed forward. No one answered.“Maybe that they have gone down into the fore-peak,” said Jim; “I’ll go and knock on the hatch. They can’t hear our shouts from where we are.”I tried to persuade Jim not to make the attempt till daylight, for a sea might break on board and wash him away.“But do you see, Peter, we must try and get help to cut away the lower rigging, which keeps the masts battering against the sides?” he answered.“Then I’ll go with you,” I said. “We’ll share the same fate, whatever that may be.”“No, no, Peter! You stay by the companion-hatch; see, there are plenty of spars for me to catch hold of, and I’ll take good care not to get washed away,” answered Jim, beginning his journey forward.Notwithstanding what he said, I was following him when I fancied that I heard a faint groan. I stopped to listen. It might be only the sound produced by the rubbing of two spars together or the working of the timbers. Again I heard the groan. I was now sure that it was uttered by one of our shipmates. It came from a part of the deck covered by a mass of broken spars and sails and rigging. Though I could not see as far, I knew that Jim had reached the fore-hatchway by hearing him shouting and knocking with the back of the axe.“Are any of them there?” I cried out.“No! Not one, I’m afeared,” he answered.“Then come and help me to see if there is any person under these spars here,” I said.Of course we had to bawl out to each other at the top of our voices on account of the clashing of the seas, the groaning and creaking of the timbers and bulk-heads, and the thundering of the masts against the sides.Jim soon joined me. We had to be very cautious how we moved about, for besides the risk there was at any moment of a sea sweeping across the deck, we might on account of the darkness have stepped overboard. We lost no time in crawling to the spot whence I heard the groans proceeding.On feeling about we soon discovered a man, his body pressed down on the deck by a heavy spar, and partly concealed by the canvas.“Who are you?” cried Jim. “Speak to us,—do.”A groan was the only answer.“Do you try and lift the spar, Jim, and I’ll drag him out,” I said.Jim tried to do as I told him, but though he exerted all his strength he could not succeed in raising the spar.“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! The poor fellow will die if we cannot get him free soon,” I exclaimed, in despair.“This will do it,” cried Jim, who had been searching about, and now came with the broken end of a topgallant-yard to serve as a handspike. By its means he prised up the spar, while I as gently as I could dragged out the man by the shoulders. No sooner did I feel his jacket than I was almost sure that he was no other than our good old skipper. He was breathing heavily, and had apparently been rendered unconscious by a blow on the head. I at length got him out from under the spar.“We must carry him below before another sea breaks on board,” I said. “Come, help me, Jim.”Together we lifted the old man, and staggering along the slippery deck, reached the companion-hatch in safety. To get him down without injury was more difficult. I going first and taking his legs, and Jim holding him by the shoulders, we succeeded at last. While Jim supported him at the bottom of the ladder, I hunted about till I found a tinder-box and matches and lighted the cabin lamp. It showed us, as I had supposed, that the person I had rescued was our captain. He was pale as death, and bleeding from a wound in the head. The light also exhibited the utter confusion into which the cabin had been thrown. I managed, however, to clear a way to the state cabin, to which we carried the captain, and then getting off his wet clothes placed him between the blankets in his berth. Fortunately, there was a cask of water in the pantry, which enabled us to wash and bind up his head, so as to staunch the blood flowing from it. The operation was performed but roughly, as all the time the sound of the masts thundering like battering-rams against the side of the vessel warned us that, we must try to cut them adrift without delay. I feared that already they had done some serious damage. Even before we left the captain he seemed to have somewhat recovered his consciousness, for I heard him mutter, “Be smart, lads. Tell mate—cut away wreck.”Of course we did not let him know that besides himself we alone of all the crew were left alive. In the cabin I found another axe, and Jim and I, going on deck, began the difficult and dangerous task we had undertaken.The lower rigging, on what had been the weather side, had entirely given way, so that we had only to cut that on the opposite side, but in leaning over to reach the shrouds at the chains we ran a fearful risk of being carried off by the sea as the vessel rolled from side to side.We first tried to clear the mainmast. We had cut two of the shrouds, when a sea, having driven the butt end against the side with fearful force, lifted it just as the brig rolled over, and it came sweeping along the deck, nearly taking Jim and me off our legs. With the greatest difficulty we escaped.“It shan’t do that again,” cried Jim; and dashing forward with axe uplifted he cut the last shroud, and the mast was carried away by the next sea.We had still to get rid of the foremast and bowsprit, which were doing as much damage as the mainmast had done, by every now and then ramming away at the bows with a force sufficient, it seemed, to knock a hole through them at any moment. I felt anxious to return to the cabin to attend to our old captain, but the safety of the vessel required us not to delay a moment longer than could be helped in cutting away the remaining masts and bowsprit.I observed soon after the mainmast had gone that the wind had fallen, and that there was somewhat less sea running, and in a short time the light began to increase. I do not think that otherwise we should have accomplished our task. Jim sprang forward with his axe, taking always the post of danger, and hacking away at rope after rope as he could manage to reach them.I followed his example. Often we had to hold on for our lives as the seas washed over us. At length the work was accomplished. We gave a shout of satisfaction as, the last rope severed, we saw the mass of wreck drop clear of the brig. But our work was not done. There we were in the midst of the North Sea, without masts or canvas or boats, our bulwarks gone, the brig sorely battered, and only our two selves and our poor old captain to navigate her. To preserve his life our constant attention was required.“We’ll go below and see how the old man gets on,” I said. “There’s nothing more for us to do on deck that I can see at present.”“Not so sure of that, Peter,” answered Jim. “You go and look after the skipper, and I’ll just see how matters are forward and down in the hold.”As I felt sure that the captain ought not to be left longer alone, I hurried into the cabin. He was conscious, but still scarcely able to speak. I told him that we had cleared away the wreck of the masts, and that the weather was moderating.“Thank God!” he murmured. Then, getting some more water, I again dressed his wounded head, and afterwards proposed lighting the cabin fire and trying to make him some broth.“Water! I only want water,” he said, in the same low voice as before.I procured some in a mug. He drank it, and then said, “Get up jury-masts and steer west,” not understanding as yet, I suppose, that the crew were lost.“Ay, ay, sir,” I answered, being unwilling to undeceive him, though I wondered how Jim and I could alone obey his orders; yet, if we were ever to reach a port, jury-masts must be got up.As I could do nothing more just then for the captain, I was going on deck, when I met Jim at the companion-hatch, his face wearing an expression of the greatest alarm.“Things are very bad, Peter,” he exclaimed. “The water is coming in through a big hole in the bows like a mill-sluice, and I’m much afeared that before long the old craft will carry us and the captain to the bottom.”“Not if we keep our wits awake, Jim,” I answered. “We must try to stop the hole. Come along.”Hurrying forward, we dived down into the fore-peak. We could now venture to leave the hatch off, so as to give light below. Sure enough the water was coming in terribly fast, but not quite so fast as Jim described, though already the men’s chests and other articles were afloat.The largest hole was, I saw, in the very centre of a bunk, so that we could easily get at it. Dragging out all the blankets from the other bunks, I rammed them into the hole.“Hand me a board or the top of a chest—knock it off quick!” I sang out.Jim, leaping on a chest, wrenched off the lid and gave it me.“Now that handspike.”There was one close to him. By pressing the board against the blankets, and jamming the handspike down between it and the outer corner of the bunk, the gush of water was stopped.“Here’s another hole still more forward, I can see the water bubbling in,” cried Jim, holding a lantern, which he had lit that he might look round, to the place.We stopped it as we had the first.“It will be a mercy if there are no other holes in the side under the cargo,” he said. “We’ll try the well.”We returned on deck, and Jim sounded the well.“Six feet of water or more,” he said, in a mournful tone, as he examined the rod.“Then we must rig the pumps and try to clear her!” I exclaimed. “It will be a hard job, but it may be done, and we must not think of letting the old craft sink under our feet.”We set to work, and pumped and pumped away, the water coming up in a clear stream, till our backs and arms ached, and we felt every moment ready to drop, but we cheered each other on, resolved not to give in as long as we could stand on our legs.
TheGood Intentran on before the increasing gale. The fast-rising seas came rolling up astern, threatening every instant to poop her, for, having a full cargo, she was much deeper in the water than when we sailed from Portsmouth. We quickly lost sight of the grating and spars thrown to our hapless shipmates, and they themselves had before then disappeared.
The first thing now to be done was to get the main-topsail stowed, for, flying wildly in the wind, it seemed as if about to carry away the main-topmast. The mate, Andrews, and two other men were on the point of going aloft to try and haul it in, in spite of the danger they ran in so doing, when a report like that of thunder was heard, and the sail, split into ribbons, was torn from the bolt-ropes. The fragments, after streaming out wildly in the wind, lashed themselves round and round the yard, thus saving us the hazardous task of attempting to furl the sail.
The brig flew on, now plunging into the roaring and foaming seas, now rolling from side to side so that it was difficult to keep our feet. The fore-staysail and jib had been stowed in time, and the flying jib had been blown away, so that the fore-topsail was the only sail set.
Thus hour after hour passed. Had we been running in the opposite direction we should have been making good progress, but we were now going farther and farther from our destination, to be driven into even worse weather, and perhaps to have to make our way south round the Irish coast. To avoid this, the captain was anxious to heave the brig to, and I saw him and the mate consulting how it could be done. It was a dangerous operation, they both knew, for should she not quickly come up to the wind, a sea might strike her on the broadside and sweep over her deck, or throw her on her beam-ends.
“If we get a lull it must be done,” said the captain.
“Ay, ay, sir!” answered the mate; and he ordered the men to stand ready to brace round the fore-topsail-yard as the brig came up to the wind.
Still we watched in vain for the wished-for lull. In spite of the roaring seas I felt wonderfully sleepy, and could scarcely keep my eyes open as I held on to a stanchion at the after-part of the deck. Jim was much in the same condition, for we had both been on foot since the morning watch had been called, and we had had no food all day.
The kind captain, observing the state we were in, instead of abusing us, as some skippers would have done, ordered us to go below to find something to eat and to lie down till we were wanted. We were making our way forward when he shouted out—
“Go into the cabin, laddies. There is some bread and cheese in the pantry, and ye’ll be ready at hand when I call ye.”
We quickly slipped below, and he again closed the companion-hatch which he had opened to let us descend. The other hatches had been battened down, for at any moment a sea might break on board, and if they had not been secured, might fill the vessel.
Not a ray of light came below, but Jim and I, groping about, found the bread and cheese we were in search of and soon satisfied our hunger. We then, thankful to get some rest, lay down on the deck of the cabin—which landsmen would call the floor—for we should have considered it presumptuous to stretch ourselves in one of the berths or even on the locker; and in spite of the rolling and pitching of the brig we were quickly fast asleep.
I seldom dreamed in those days, but, though tired as I was, my slumbers were troubled. Now I fancied that the brig was sinking, but that, somehow or other, I came to the surface, and was striking out amid the raging billows for the land; then I thought that I was again on board, and that the brig, after rushing rapidly on, struck upon a huge reef of black rocks, when, in an instant, her timbers split asunder, and we were all hurled into the seething waters. Suddenly I was awoke by the thundering, crashing sound of a tremendous blow on the side of the vessel, and I found myself hove right across the cabin, clutching fast hold of Jim, who shouted out, “Hillo, Peter, what is the matter? Are we all going to be drowned?”
Before I could answer him there came from above us—indeed, it had begun while he was speaking—a deafening mingling of terrific noises, of rending planks, of falling spars, the rush and swirl and roar of waters, amid which could be heard the faint cries of human voices.
The brig had been thrown on her beam-ends; of that there could be no doubt, for when we attempted to get on our feet we found the deck of the cabin almost perpendicular.
“Do you think the brig will go down?” shouted Jim.
The hubbub was so great that it was impossible to hear each other unless we spoke at the very top of our voices.
“We must, at all events, get on deck as soon as we can, and do our best to save ourselves,” I answered.
Though I said this, I had very little hope of escaping, as I thought that the vessel might at any moment founder. Even to get on deck was no easy matter, for everything in the cabin was upside down—boxes and bales, and casks and articles of all sorts, thrown out of the lockers, mixed with the furniture which had broken adrift, were knocking about, while all the time we were in complete darkness. The dead-lights had fortunately been closed at the commencement of the gale, and the companion-hatch remained secure, so that, as yet, no water came below.
Getting on our feet we were endeavouring to grope our way to the companion-ladder when we heard two loud crashes in quick succession, and directly afterwards, the brig righting with a violent jerk, we were thrown half across the cabin, bruised and almost stunned, among the numberless things knocking violently about. After a time, on recovering our senses, we picked ourselves up and made another attempt to get on deck. I now began to hope that the brig would not go down as soon as I had expected, but still I knew that she was in a fearfully perilous condition. I was sure from the crashing sounds we had heard that both her masts were gone: that very probably also she had sprung a leak, while we were far to the northward of the usual track of vessels.
At last we found our way to the cabin door, but groped about in vain for the companion-ladder, till Jim suggested that it had been unshipped when the vessel went over. After some time we found it, but had great difficulty, in consequence of the way the brig was rolling, to get it replaced. As soon as it was so I mounted and shouted as loud as I could to some one to come and lift off the hatch.
No voice replied. Again and again I shouted, fancying that the people might have gone forward for some reason or other and had forgotten us.
“What can have happened?” cried Jim, in a tone of alarm.
I dared not answer him, for I feared the worst.
Feeling about, I discovered an axe slung just inside the companion-hatch, on which I began hammering away with all my might—but still no one came.
“Jim, I’m afraid they must all be gone,” I cried out at last.
“Gone!” he exclaimed. “What, the old captain, and mate, and Andrews, and the rest?”
“I am afraid so,” I answered.
Again I shouted and knocked. Still no one came.
“We must break open the hatch,” I said, and I attempted to force up the top with the axe, but did not succeed.
“Let me try,” cried Jim; “my arm is stronger than yours.”
I got down the ladder and gave him the axe. He took my place and began working away at the part where the hatch was placed. I could hear him giving stroke after stroke, but could see nothing, for the hatch fitted so closely that not a gleam of light came through it.
Presently I heard him sing out, “I’ve done it,” and I knew by the rush of cold damp air which came down below that he had got off the hatch.
Still all was dark, but looking up I could distinguish the cloudy sky. Not till then did I know that it was night. We had gone to sleep in broad daylight, and I had no idea of the number of hours which had passed by since then. I sprang up the companion-ladder after Jim, who had stepped out on deck.
The spectacle which met my eyes was appalling. The masts were gone, carried away a few feet from the deck—only the stumps were standing—everything had been swept clear away, the caboose, the boats, the bulwark; the brig was a complete wreck; the dark foam-topped seas were rising up high above the deck, threatening to engulf her.
The masts were still alongside hanging on by the rigging, their butt ends every now and then striking against her with so terrific a force that I feared they must before long drive a hole through the planking. As far as I could make out through the thick gloom, some spars which had apparently fallen before the masts gave way lay about the deck, kept from being washed away by the rigging attached to them having become entangled in the stanchions and the remaining portions of the shattered bulwarks.
Not one of our shipmates could we see. Again we shouted, in the faint hope that some of them might be lying concealed forward. No one answered.
“Maybe that they have gone down into the fore-peak,” said Jim; “I’ll go and knock on the hatch. They can’t hear our shouts from where we are.”
I tried to persuade Jim not to make the attempt till daylight, for a sea might break on board and wash him away.
“But do you see, Peter, we must try and get help to cut away the lower rigging, which keeps the masts battering against the sides?” he answered.
“Then I’ll go with you,” I said. “We’ll share the same fate, whatever that may be.”
“No, no, Peter! You stay by the companion-hatch; see, there are plenty of spars for me to catch hold of, and I’ll take good care not to get washed away,” answered Jim, beginning his journey forward.
Notwithstanding what he said, I was following him when I fancied that I heard a faint groan. I stopped to listen. It might be only the sound produced by the rubbing of two spars together or the working of the timbers. Again I heard the groan. I was now sure that it was uttered by one of our shipmates. It came from a part of the deck covered by a mass of broken spars and sails and rigging. Though I could not see as far, I knew that Jim had reached the fore-hatchway by hearing him shouting and knocking with the back of the axe.
“Are any of them there?” I cried out.
“No! Not one, I’m afeared,” he answered.
“Then come and help me to see if there is any person under these spars here,” I said.
Of course we had to bawl out to each other at the top of our voices on account of the clashing of the seas, the groaning and creaking of the timbers and bulk-heads, and the thundering of the masts against the sides.
Jim soon joined me. We had to be very cautious how we moved about, for besides the risk there was at any moment of a sea sweeping across the deck, we might on account of the darkness have stepped overboard. We lost no time in crawling to the spot whence I heard the groans proceeding.
On feeling about we soon discovered a man, his body pressed down on the deck by a heavy spar, and partly concealed by the canvas.
“Who are you?” cried Jim. “Speak to us,—do.”
A groan was the only answer.
“Do you try and lift the spar, Jim, and I’ll drag him out,” I said.
Jim tried to do as I told him, but though he exerted all his strength he could not succeed in raising the spar.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! The poor fellow will die if we cannot get him free soon,” I exclaimed, in despair.
“This will do it,” cried Jim, who had been searching about, and now came with the broken end of a topgallant-yard to serve as a handspike. By its means he prised up the spar, while I as gently as I could dragged out the man by the shoulders. No sooner did I feel his jacket than I was almost sure that he was no other than our good old skipper. He was breathing heavily, and had apparently been rendered unconscious by a blow on the head. I at length got him out from under the spar.
“We must carry him below before another sea breaks on board,” I said. “Come, help me, Jim.”
Together we lifted the old man, and staggering along the slippery deck, reached the companion-hatch in safety. To get him down without injury was more difficult. I going first and taking his legs, and Jim holding him by the shoulders, we succeeded at last. While Jim supported him at the bottom of the ladder, I hunted about till I found a tinder-box and matches and lighted the cabin lamp. It showed us, as I had supposed, that the person I had rescued was our captain. He was pale as death, and bleeding from a wound in the head. The light also exhibited the utter confusion into which the cabin had been thrown. I managed, however, to clear a way to the state cabin, to which we carried the captain, and then getting off his wet clothes placed him between the blankets in his berth. Fortunately, there was a cask of water in the pantry, which enabled us to wash and bind up his head, so as to staunch the blood flowing from it. The operation was performed but roughly, as all the time the sound of the masts thundering like battering-rams against the side of the vessel warned us that, we must try to cut them adrift without delay. I feared that already they had done some serious damage. Even before we left the captain he seemed to have somewhat recovered his consciousness, for I heard him mutter, “Be smart, lads. Tell mate—cut away wreck.”
Of course we did not let him know that besides himself we alone of all the crew were left alive. In the cabin I found another axe, and Jim and I, going on deck, began the difficult and dangerous task we had undertaken.
The lower rigging, on what had been the weather side, had entirely given way, so that we had only to cut that on the opposite side, but in leaning over to reach the shrouds at the chains we ran a fearful risk of being carried off by the sea as the vessel rolled from side to side.
We first tried to clear the mainmast. We had cut two of the shrouds, when a sea, having driven the butt end against the side with fearful force, lifted it just as the brig rolled over, and it came sweeping along the deck, nearly taking Jim and me off our legs. With the greatest difficulty we escaped.
“It shan’t do that again,” cried Jim; and dashing forward with axe uplifted he cut the last shroud, and the mast was carried away by the next sea.
We had still to get rid of the foremast and bowsprit, which were doing as much damage as the mainmast had done, by every now and then ramming away at the bows with a force sufficient, it seemed, to knock a hole through them at any moment. I felt anxious to return to the cabin to attend to our old captain, but the safety of the vessel required us not to delay a moment longer than could be helped in cutting away the remaining masts and bowsprit.
I observed soon after the mainmast had gone that the wind had fallen, and that there was somewhat less sea running, and in a short time the light began to increase. I do not think that otherwise we should have accomplished our task. Jim sprang forward with his axe, taking always the post of danger, and hacking away at rope after rope as he could manage to reach them.
I followed his example. Often we had to hold on for our lives as the seas washed over us. At length the work was accomplished. We gave a shout of satisfaction as, the last rope severed, we saw the mass of wreck drop clear of the brig. But our work was not done. There we were in the midst of the North Sea, without masts or canvas or boats, our bulwarks gone, the brig sorely battered, and only our two selves and our poor old captain to navigate her. To preserve his life our constant attention was required.
“We’ll go below and see how the old man gets on,” I said. “There’s nothing more for us to do on deck that I can see at present.”
“Not so sure of that, Peter,” answered Jim. “You go and look after the skipper, and I’ll just see how matters are forward and down in the hold.”
As I felt sure that the captain ought not to be left longer alone, I hurried into the cabin. He was conscious, but still scarcely able to speak. I told him that we had cleared away the wreck of the masts, and that the weather was moderating.
“Thank God!” he murmured. Then, getting some more water, I again dressed his wounded head, and afterwards proposed lighting the cabin fire and trying to make him some broth.
“Water! I only want water,” he said, in the same low voice as before.
I procured some in a mug. He drank it, and then said, “Get up jury-masts and steer west,” not understanding as yet, I suppose, that the crew were lost.
“Ay, ay, sir,” I answered, being unwilling to undeceive him, though I wondered how Jim and I could alone obey his orders; yet, if we were ever to reach a port, jury-masts must be got up.
As I could do nothing more just then for the captain, I was going on deck, when I met Jim at the companion-hatch, his face wearing an expression of the greatest alarm.
“Things are very bad, Peter,” he exclaimed. “The water is coming in through a big hole in the bows like a mill-sluice, and I’m much afeared that before long the old craft will carry us and the captain to the bottom.”
“Not if we keep our wits awake, Jim,” I answered. “We must try to stop the hole. Come along.”
Hurrying forward, we dived down into the fore-peak. We could now venture to leave the hatch off, so as to give light below. Sure enough the water was coming in terribly fast, but not quite so fast as Jim described, though already the men’s chests and other articles were afloat.
The largest hole was, I saw, in the very centre of a bunk, so that we could easily get at it. Dragging out all the blankets from the other bunks, I rammed them into the hole.
“Hand me a board or the top of a chest—knock it off quick!” I sang out.
Jim, leaping on a chest, wrenched off the lid and gave it me.
“Now that handspike.”
There was one close to him. By pressing the board against the blankets, and jamming the handspike down between it and the outer corner of the bunk, the gush of water was stopped.
“Here’s another hole still more forward, I can see the water bubbling in,” cried Jim, holding a lantern, which he had lit that he might look round, to the place.
We stopped it as we had the first.
“It will be a mercy if there are no other holes in the side under the cargo,” he said. “We’ll try the well.”
We returned on deck, and Jim sounded the well.
“Six feet of water or more,” he said, in a mournful tone, as he examined the rod.
“Then we must rig the pumps and try to clear her!” I exclaimed. “It will be a hard job, but it may be done, and we must not think of letting the old craft sink under our feet.”
We set to work, and pumped and pumped away, the water coming up in a clear stream, till our backs and arms ached, and we felt every moment ready to drop, but we cheered each other on, resolved not to give in as long as we could stand on our legs.
Chapter Ten.Alone on the ocean.“Are we gaining on the leaks, think you, Jim?” I at length gasped out, for I felt that if our efforts were producing some effect we should be encouraged to continue them, but that if not it would be wise before we were thoroughly exhausted to try and build a raft on which we might have a chance of saving our lives.My companion made no reply, but giving a look of doubt, still pumped on, the perspiration streaming down his face and neck showing the desperate exertions he was making. I was much in the same condition, though, like Jim, I had on only my shirt and trousers. I was the first to give in, and, utterly unable to move my arms, I sank down on the deck. Jim, still not uttering a word, doggedly worked on, bringing up a stream of water which flowed out through the scuppers.It seemed wonderful that he could go on, but after some time he also stopped, and staggered to where he had left the rod.“I’ll try,” he said.I gazed at him with intense anxiety.“Three inches less. We’re gaining on the leaks!” he exclaimed.I sprang to my feet and seized the brake. Jim struck out with his arms “to take the turns out of the muscles,” as he said, while he sat for a minute on the deck, and again went at it.All this time the wind was falling and the sea going down. As we laboured at the pumps we looked out anxiously for the appearance of a vessel which might afford us assistance, but not a sail appeared above the horizon. We must depend on our own exertions for preserving our lives. Though a calm would enable us the better to free the brig of water and to get up jury-masts, it would lessen our chance of obtaining help. Yet while the brig was rolling and tumbling about we could do nothing but pump, and pump we did till our strength failed us, and we both sank down on the deck.My eyes closed, and I felt that I was dropping off to sleep. How long I thus lay I could not tell, when I heard Jim sing out—“Hurrah! We’ve gained six inches on the leak,” and clank, clank, clank, went his pump.I cannot say that I sprang up, but I got, somehow or other, on my feet, and, seizing the brake, laboured away more like a person in his sleep than one awake.I saw the water flowing freely, so I knew that I was not pumping uselessly. Presently I heard Jim cry out—“Hillo! Look there!”Turning my eyes aft, I saw the captain holding on by the companion-hatch, and gazing in utter astonishment along the deck. His head bound up in a white cloth, a blanket over his shoulders, his face pale as death, he looked more like a ghost than a living man.“Where are they, lads?” he exclaimed at length, in a hollow voice.“All gone overboard, sir,” answered Jim, thinking he ought to speak.The old man, on hearing this, fell flat on the deck.We ran and lifted him up. At first I thought he was dead, but he soon opened his eyes and whispered—“It was a passing weakness, and I’ll be better soon. Trust in God, laddies; go on pumping, and He’ll save your lives,” he said.“We’ll take you below first, sir. You’ll be better in your berth than here,” I answered.“No, no! I’ll stay on deck; the fresh air will do me good,” he said; but scarcely had he uttered the words than he fell back senseless.“We must get him below, or he’ll die here,” I said; so Jim and I carried him down as before, and got him into his bed.“He wants looking after,” said Jim; “so, Peter, do you tend him, and I’ll go back to the pumps.”Thinking that he wanted food more than anything else, I lighted the cabin fire, and collecting some materials from the pantry for broth in a saucepan, put it on to boil.Though I had been actively engaged, I felt able once more to work the pumps. Jim said that he was certain the water in the hold was decreasing, while, as the brig was steadier, less was coming in. This increased our hopes of keeping her afloat, but we should want rest and sleep, and when we knocked off the water might once more gain on us.We did not forget, however, what the captain had said. When I could pump no longer I ran below, freshly dressed the old man’s head, and gave him some broth, which was by this time ready. It evidently did him good. Then, taking a basin of it myself, I ran up on deck with another for Jim.“That puts life into one,” he said, as, seated on the deck with his legs stretched out, he swallowed it nearly scalding hot. A draught of water which he told me to bring, however, cooled his throat, and he again set to, I following his example.By this time the day was far advanced, and even Jim confessed that he must soon give in, while I could scarcely stand.The wind had continued to go down, but the sea still rolled the vessel about too much to enable us to get up jury-masts, even if we had had strength to move, before dark.“It’s no use trying to hold out longer, I must get a snooze,” sighed Jim.He looked as if he were half asleep already.“We had better go and lie down in the cabin, so that we may be ready to help the captain,” I answered; “but I’ll tell you what, we’ll take a look into the fore-peak first, to see how the leaks are going on there.”“Oh, they are all right,” said Jim. “We shouldn’t have lessened the water so much if anything had given way.”Still I persisted in going forward, and Jim followed me. Just then the vessel gave a pitch, which nearly sent me head first down the fore-hatchway. As we got below I heard the sound of a rush of water. The handspike which secured the chief leak had worked out of its place, and the blankets and boards were forced inwards. It required all our remaining strength to put them back. Had we been asleep aft the brig would have filled in a few minutes. Jim wanted to remain forward, but I persuaded him to come aft, being sure that he would sleep too soundly to hear the water coming in should the leaks break out afresh, and might be drowned before he awoke. Having done all we could to secure the handspikes, we crawled rather than walked to the cabin.We were thankful to find that the captain was asleep, so, without loss of time, Jim crept into one of the side berths, and I lay down on the after locker. In half a minute I had forgotten what had happened and where I was. As the old captain and we two lads lay fast asleep on board the demasted brig out there in the wild North Sea, a kind Providence watched over us. We might have been run down, or, the leaks breaking out afresh, the vessel might have foundered before we awoke.A voice which I supposed to be that of the captain aroused me. The sun was shining down through the cabin sky-light. The vessel was floating motionless. Not a sound did I hear except Jim’s snoring. I tried to jump up, but found my limbs terribly stiff, every joint aching. I made my way, however, to the old man’s berth.“How are you, Captain Finlay?” I asked.He did not reply. I stepped nearer. His eyes were closed. I thought he was dead; yet I heard his voice, I was certain of that. I stood looking at him, afraid to ascertain if what I feared was the case. A feeling of awe crept over me. I did not like to call out to Jim, yet I wanted him to come to me. At last I staggered over to the berth in which Jim was sleeping. “Jim! Jim!” I said, “I am afraid the captain is taken very bad.”Jim did not awake, so I shook him several times till he sat up, still half asleep and rubbing his eyes.“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Oh—ay, I know. We’ll turn to at the pumps, Peter.”I repeated what I had said. He was on his feet in a moment. He moved at first with as much difficulty as I had done. “Come along,” I said, and together we went over to the state cabin. We looked at the old man without speaking. After some time Jim mustered courage to touch his hand. To my great relief the captain opened his eyes.“Praise God, who has preserved us during the night, my lads!” were the first words he spoke, and while we stood by his side he offered up a short prayer.He then told us to go on deck and learn the state of the weather.We hurried up. The sun was shining brightly; the sea was smooth as glass, unbroken by a single ripple. Jim did not forget the leak; he sounded the well.“We must turn to at the pumps, Peter,” he exclaimed. “She’s made a good deal of water during the night, and it will take us not a few hours to get it out of her, but we’ll not give in.”“I should think not, indeed,” I answered. “But I’ll go down and hear what the captain wants us to do.”Before I had got half way down the companion-ladder I heard the clank of the pump. Jim had lost no time in setting to work.I hastened to the state-room. I was startled by the changed appearance of the captain’s countenance during the short time I had been on deck. His eyes were turned towards me with a fixed look. I spoke, but he did not answer; I leant over him, no breath proceeded from his lips; I touched his brow, then I knew that the good old man was dead. Presently I closed his eyes, and with a sad heart returned on deck.“He’s gone, Jim,” I cried.“Gone! The captain gone! Then I am sorry,” answered Jim, as he stopped pumping for a moment, though he still held the brake in his hands. “Then, Peter, you and I must just do our best to take the brig into port by ourselves.”“I was thinking the same, Jim,” I said. “He told us to get up jury-masts and steer west, and that’s just what we must do if the wind will let us.”The death of our good captain made us feel very sad, for we had learned to look upon him as our true friend. It caused us also to become more anxious even than before about ourselves. With his assistance we had had little doubt, should the weather remain fine, of reaching a port, but as we were neither of us accustomed to the use of charts, and did not know how to take an observation, we could not tell to what port we should steer our course.We had both, however, dauntless spirits, and had been accustomed from our childhood to trust to our own resources. Our grand idea was to steer west, if we could manage to get sail on the brig, but before this could be attempted we must pump her free of water.There was no time to mourn for our old captain, so without delay we turned to at the pumps. My arms and legs and every part of my body felt very stiff. Jim saw that I should not be able to continue long at it.“Peter, do you go below and look out for some spars to serve as jury-masts,” he said; “I’ll meantime keep on. We shall soon get the water under; it’s only a wonder more hasn’t come in.”Jim and I never thought who was captain; if I told him to do a thing he did it, or if he gave an order I did not stop to consider whether or not he had the right to command. We worked together as if we had but one will.It was “a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull both together.”There were plenty of spars below, and I soon selected some which I thought would serve for the masts and yards we required. I had to call Jim to help me get them up on deck.“There’ll be no use for these till we can find some canvas to spread on them,” I observed.“Nor till we get a breeze to fill the sails,” said Jim. “However, we’ll get them set while the calm lasts, and no doubt you’ll find as many as we can carry in the sail-room.”This was right aft, down a small hatchway. While Jim went again to his pump, I hunted about and hauled out two topgallantsails and royals, a fore-staysail, a second jib, and a main-trysail. If we could set all these we should do well, supposing we got a fair breeze. It would be no easy job, however, I knew, to get up the masts. We had one advantage. The proper masts had been carried away some six or seven feet from the deck, so that we might lash the spars to them. Before setting to work I again went below to hunt for rope. I got more than I expected from different parts of the vessel, and we had also saved some of the rigging, which had been entangled in the bulwarks.“We shall want every scrap of rope we can find!” cried Jim, panting and still pumping away.“I’ll take a spell with you,” I said. “Then we’ll turn to and rig the ship.”I pumped till I could pump no longer, and then, after a short rest, we commenced in earnest. We first lashed a short spar, with a tackle secured to its head, to the stump of the foremast, and then, having fitted two shrouds on a side, with a forestay and backstays, and blocks for the halliards, to the spar we had chosen for a foremast, we swayed it up my means of the short spar and tackle. We could not possibly in any other way have accomplished our object. We next lashed the spar to the stump of the mast. No time was lost in setting up the standing rigging. Our foremast being thus fixed, we surveyed it with infinite satisfaction, and then turned to and fitted the brig with a mainmast in the same fashion. This we made somewhat stronger, as we intended it to carry a mainsail should we have to haul on a wind. Our work, as may be supposed, was not especially neat—indeed, we had to knot most of the shrouds, as it was necessary to keep all the longer lengths of rope for halliards, and we had none to spare.I cannot stop to explain how we accomplished all this; we could not have done it without employing tackles, which we brought to the windlass, and thus gained twenty times as much power as we by ourselves possessed.We were now pretty well tired and hungry, for, except some bread and cheese and a jug of cold water, we had taken nothing all day.It was with a feeling of awe that we went down into the cabin where the old captain lay. Jim, however, closed the door of the state-room, so that we could not see him. We then lighted the fire and cooked some dinner—or rather supper, for evening was drawing on. Anxious to be again at work, we hurried over the meal.“I say, Peter, don’t you think we ought to bury the skipper?” asked Jim, after a long silence.“Not for some days to come,” I answered; “I hope that we may get into port first, so as to lay him in a grave on shore.”“I don’t think it will make much odds to him; and, to say the truth, now he’s dead, I’d rather he were out of the ship,” said Jim; “they say it’s unlucky to have a dead man on board.”I had some difficulty in persuading Jim of the folly of such a notion, but we finally agreed that we would try to carry the captain’s body to land.Before bending sails we took a look down forward to see the condition of the leaks. The handspikes were in their places, and, except a slight moisture round the holes, we could not discover that any water was getting in. Still there was a great deal too much in the brig for safety, so we took another spell at the pumps before going on with the rigging.Darkness found us hard at work. We were too tired and sleepy to attempt keeping a look-out, but I bethought me of hoisting a lantern at each masthead, which would save us from being run down should a breeze spring up during the night Jim thought the idea capital, and promised to get up and trim the lamps.Fortunately, the nights were short, so that there was not much necessity for that. Our chief wish now was that the calm would continue for a few hours during the next day, that we might get the brig to rights.“One spell more at the pumps!” cried Jim.We seized the brakes, worked till we could work no longer, then went below, ate some food from the pantry, and lying down in the two larboard berths in the cabin, were fast asleep in a few seconds.People talk of sleeping like tops. A hard-worked ship-boy will beat any top in the world at sleeping soundly.For a second night the brig lay becalmed. I doubt that if even a fierce gale had sprung up it would have awakened us. The sun was shining when I opened my eyes. It might have been shining for hours for what I could tell.I roused up Jim, and we sprang on deck, vexed at having, as we supposed, lost so much precious time. By the height of the sun above the horizon, however, we judged that it was not so late as we had at first fancied. The clock in the cabin had been unshipped when the brig went over, and the captain’s watch had stopped, so that we had otherwise no means of knowing how the hours passed by. It was still perfectly calm. We looked round in all directions. Not a sail was in sight.“We must get ready for the breeze, Jim, when it does spring up,” I said. “It will come before many hours are over, I’ve a notion.”I had observed some light clouds just under the sun.“May be; but we must take a spell at the pumps first,” he answered—his first thought was always of them.We turned to as before, till our arms ached, and then we ran down and got some breakfast. We knew the value of time, but we couldn’t get on without eating, any more than other people.On returning to the deck we lowered the lanterns, which had long since gone out, finished bending the sails, fitting braces, tacks, sheets, and bowlines, and were then ready to hoist away. We at once set all the sails we had ready, to see how they stood. To our satisfaction, they appeared to greater advantage than we had expected.“They’ll do!” cried Jim, as we surveyed them; “only let us get a breeze from the right quarter, and we’ll soon make the land.”Fortunately, the rudder had been uninjured when the brig went over, and the wheel was in order. I stood at the helm, longing for the time when I should see the brig moving through the water. I may say, once for all, that at very frequent intervals Jim and I went to the pumps, but he stood longer at the work than I did. There was urgent necessity for our doing so, as, notwithstanding all our exertions, we had but slightly diminished the water in the hold.When not thus occupied we did various things that were necessary about the brig; among others we got life-lines round the shattered bulwarks, so that should a heavy sea get up, we might run less risk of being washed overboard. We also went to the store-room, and brought to the cabin various descriptions of provisions, that we might have them at hand when wanted. We knew that when once we got a wind we should have no time to do anything besides navigating the vessel.I had gone below to get dinner ready, the only hot meal we took in the day, leaving Jim pumping, when I heard him sing out down the companion-hatchway—“Here it comes, and a rattling breeze, too.”I sprang on deck and went to the helm, while Jim stood ready to trim sails. Looking astern I could see a line of white foam sweeping along towards us over the surface of the ocean. Before it was up to us the sails bulged out, the brig gathered way, and presently she was gliding at the rate of three or four knots through the water.Jim and I shouted with exultation—we forgot the past—we thought not of the future. We believed that we were about to reap the fruit of our labours.For several hours we ran on with the wind right aft, steering due west. I steered for most of the time, but Jim occasionally relieved me. So eager were we that we forgot all about eating, till he cried out—“I must have some food, Peter, or I shall drop.”I was running below to get it, feeling just as hungry as he did, when the wind hauled more to the southward. We took a pull at the starboard braces, and I then hurried below to bring up what we wanted. Just as I was cutting some meat which had been boiling till the fire went out, I heard a crash. I sprang up on deck. The brig was again dismasted, and Jim was struggling in the waves astern.
“Are we gaining on the leaks, think you, Jim?” I at length gasped out, for I felt that if our efforts were producing some effect we should be encouraged to continue them, but that if not it would be wise before we were thoroughly exhausted to try and build a raft on which we might have a chance of saving our lives.
My companion made no reply, but giving a look of doubt, still pumped on, the perspiration streaming down his face and neck showing the desperate exertions he was making. I was much in the same condition, though, like Jim, I had on only my shirt and trousers. I was the first to give in, and, utterly unable to move my arms, I sank down on the deck. Jim, still not uttering a word, doggedly worked on, bringing up a stream of water which flowed out through the scuppers.
It seemed wonderful that he could go on, but after some time he also stopped, and staggered to where he had left the rod.
“I’ll try,” he said.
I gazed at him with intense anxiety.
“Three inches less. We’re gaining on the leaks!” he exclaimed.
I sprang to my feet and seized the brake. Jim struck out with his arms “to take the turns out of the muscles,” as he said, while he sat for a minute on the deck, and again went at it.
All this time the wind was falling and the sea going down. As we laboured at the pumps we looked out anxiously for the appearance of a vessel which might afford us assistance, but not a sail appeared above the horizon. We must depend on our own exertions for preserving our lives. Though a calm would enable us the better to free the brig of water and to get up jury-masts, it would lessen our chance of obtaining help. Yet while the brig was rolling and tumbling about we could do nothing but pump, and pump we did till our strength failed us, and we both sank down on the deck.
My eyes closed, and I felt that I was dropping off to sleep. How long I thus lay I could not tell, when I heard Jim sing out—
“Hurrah! We’ve gained six inches on the leak,” and clank, clank, clank, went his pump.
I cannot say that I sprang up, but I got, somehow or other, on my feet, and, seizing the brake, laboured away more like a person in his sleep than one awake.
I saw the water flowing freely, so I knew that I was not pumping uselessly. Presently I heard Jim cry out—
“Hillo! Look there!”
Turning my eyes aft, I saw the captain holding on by the companion-hatch, and gazing in utter astonishment along the deck. His head bound up in a white cloth, a blanket over his shoulders, his face pale as death, he looked more like a ghost than a living man.
“Where are they, lads?” he exclaimed at length, in a hollow voice.
“All gone overboard, sir,” answered Jim, thinking he ought to speak.
The old man, on hearing this, fell flat on the deck.
We ran and lifted him up. At first I thought he was dead, but he soon opened his eyes and whispered—
“It was a passing weakness, and I’ll be better soon. Trust in God, laddies; go on pumping, and He’ll save your lives,” he said.
“We’ll take you below first, sir. You’ll be better in your berth than here,” I answered.
“No, no! I’ll stay on deck; the fresh air will do me good,” he said; but scarcely had he uttered the words than he fell back senseless.
“We must get him below, or he’ll die here,” I said; so Jim and I carried him down as before, and got him into his bed.
“He wants looking after,” said Jim; “so, Peter, do you tend him, and I’ll go back to the pumps.”
Thinking that he wanted food more than anything else, I lighted the cabin fire, and collecting some materials from the pantry for broth in a saucepan, put it on to boil.
Though I had been actively engaged, I felt able once more to work the pumps. Jim said that he was certain the water in the hold was decreasing, while, as the brig was steadier, less was coming in. This increased our hopes of keeping her afloat, but we should want rest and sleep, and when we knocked off the water might once more gain on us.
We did not forget, however, what the captain had said. When I could pump no longer I ran below, freshly dressed the old man’s head, and gave him some broth, which was by this time ready. It evidently did him good. Then, taking a basin of it myself, I ran up on deck with another for Jim.
“That puts life into one,” he said, as, seated on the deck with his legs stretched out, he swallowed it nearly scalding hot. A draught of water which he told me to bring, however, cooled his throat, and he again set to, I following his example.
By this time the day was far advanced, and even Jim confessed that he must soon give in, while I could scarcely stand.
The wind had continued to go down, but the sea still rolled the vessel about too much to enable us to get up jury-masts, even if we had had strength to move, before dark.
“It’s no use trying to hold out longer, I must get a snooze,” sighed Jim.
He looked as if he were half asleep already.
“We had better go and lie down in the cabin, so that we may be ready to help the captain,” I answered; “but I’ll tell you what, we’ll take a look into the fore-peak first, to see how the leaks are going on there.”
“Oh, they are all right,” said Jim. “We shouldn’t have lessened the water so much if anything had given way.”
Still I persisted in going forward, and Jim followed me. Just then the vessel gave a pitch, which nearly sent me head first down the fore-hatchway. As we got below I heard the sound of a rush of water. The handspike which secured the chief leak had worked out of its place, and the blankets and boards were forced inwards. It required all our remaining strength to put them back. Had we been asleep aft the brig would have filled in a few minutes. Jim wanted to remain forward, but I persuaded him to come aft, being sure that he would sleep too soundly to hear the water coming in should the leaks break out afresh, and might be drowned before he awoke. Having done all we could to secure the handspikes, we crawled rather than walked to the cabin.
We were thankful to find that the captain was asleep, so, without loss of time, Jim crept into one of the side berths, and I lay down on the after locker. In half a minute I had forgotten what had happened and where I was. As the old captain and we two lads lay fast asleep on board the demasted brig out there in the wild North Sea, a kind Providence watched over us. We might have been run down, or, the leaks breaking out afresh, the vessel might have foundered before we awoke.
A voice which I supposed to be that of the captain aroused me. The sun was shining down through the cabin sky-light. The vessel was floating motionless. Not a sound did I hear except Jim’s snoring. I tried to jump up, but found my limbs terribly stiff, every joint aching. I made my way, however, to the old man’s berth.
“How are you, Captain Finlay?” I asked.
He did not reply. I stepped nearer. His eyes were closed. I thought he was dead; yet I heard his voice, I was certain of that. I stood looking at him, afraid to ascertain if what I feared was the case. A feeling of awe crept over me. I did not like to call out to Jim, yet I wanted him to come to me. At last I staggered over to the berth in which Jim was sleeping. “Jim! Jim!” I said, “I am afraid the captain is taken very bad.”
Jim did not awake, so I shook him several times till he sat up, still half asleep and rubbing his eyes.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Oh—ay, I know. We’ll turn to at the pumps, Peter.”
I repeated what I had said. He was on his feet in a moment. He moved at first with as much difficulty as I had done. “Come along,” I said, and together we went over to the state cabin. We looked at the old man without speaking. After some time Jim mustered courage to touch his hand. To my great relief the captain opened his eyes.
“Praise God, who has preserved us during the night, my lads!” were the first words he spoke, and while we stood by his side he offered up a short prayer.
He then told us to go on deck and learn the state of the weather.
We hurried up. The sun was shining brightly; the sea was smooth as glass, unbroken by a single ripple. Jim did not forget the leak; he sounded the well.
“We must turn to at the pumps, Peter,” he exclaimed. “She’s made a good deal of water during the night, and it will take us not a few hours to get it out of her, but we’ll not give in.”
“I should think not, indeed,” I answered. “But I’ll go down and hear what the captain wants us to do.”
Before I had got half way down the companion-ladder I heard the clank of the pump. Jim had lost no time in setting to work.
I hastened to the state-room. I was startled by the changed appearance of the captain’s countenance during the short time I had been on deck. His eyes were turned towards me with a fixed look. I spoke, but he did not answer; I leant over him, no breath proceeded from his lips; I touched his brow, then I knew that the good old man was dead. Presently I closed his eyes, and with a sad heart returned on deck.
“He’s gone, Jim,” I cried.
“Gone! The captain gone! Then I am sorry,” answered Jim, as he stopped pumping for a moment, though he still held the brake in his hands. “Then, Peter, you and I must just do our best to take the brig into port by ourselves.”
“I was thinking the same, Jim,” I said. “He told us to get up jury-masts and steer west, and that’s just what we must do if the wind will let us.”
The death of our good captain made us feel very sad, for we had learned to look upon him as our true friend. It caused us also to become more anxious even than before about ourselves. With his assistance we had had little doubt, should the weather remain fine, of reaching a port, but as we were neither of us accustomed to the use of charts, and did not know how to take an observation, we could not tell to what port we should steer our course.
We had both, however, dauntless spirits, and had been accustomed from our childhood to trust to our own resources. Our grand idea was to steer west, if we could manage to get sail on the brig, but before this could be attempted we must pump her free of water.
There was no time to mourn for our old captain, so without delay we turned to at the pumps. My arms and legs and every part of my body felt very stiff. Jim saw that I should not be able to continue long at it.
“Peter, do you go below and look out for some spars to serve as jury-masts,” he said; “I’ll meantime keep on. We shall soon get the water under; it’s only a wonder more hasn’t come in.”
Jim and I never thought who was captain; if I told him to do a thing he did it, or if he gave an order I did not stop to consider whether or not he had the right to command. We worked together as if we had but one will.
It was “a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull both together.”
There were plenty of spars below, and I soon selected some which I thought would serve for the masts and yards we required. I had to call Jim to help me get them up on deck.
“There’ll be no use for these till we can find some canvas to spread on them,” I observed.
“Nor till we get a breeze to fill the sails,” said Jim. “However, we’ll get them set while the calm lasts, and no doubt you’ll find as many as we can carry in the sail-room.”
This was right aft, down a small hatchway. While Jim went again to his pump, I hunted about and hauled out two topgallantsails and royals, a fore-staysail, a second jib, and a main-trysail. If we could set all these we should do well, supposing we got a fair breeze. It would be no easy job, however, I knew, to get up the masts. We had one advantage. The proper masts had been carried away some six or seven feet from the deck, so that we might lash the spars to them. Before setting to work I again went below to hunt for rope. I got more than I expected from different parts of the vessel, and we had also saved some of the rigging, which had been entangled in the bulwarks.
“We shall want every scrap of rope we can find!” cried Jim, panting and still pumping away.
“I’ll take a spell with you,” I said. “Then we’ll turn to and rig the ship.”
I pumped till I could pump no longer, and then, after a short rest, we commenced in earnest. We first lashed a short spar, with a tackle secured to its head, to the stump of the foremast, and then, having fitted two shrouds on a side, with a forestay and backstays, and blocks for the halliards, to the spar we had chosen for a foremast, we swayed it up my means of the short spar and tackle. We could not possibly in any other way have accomplished our object. We next lashed the spar to the stump of the mast. No time was lost in setting up the standing rigging. Our foremast being thus fixed, we surveyed it with infinite satisfaction, and then turned to and fitted the brig with a mainmast in the same fashion. This we made somewhat stronger, as we intended it to carry a mainsail should we have to haul on a wind. Our work, as may be supposed, was not especially neat—indeed, we had to knot most of the shrouds, as it was necessary to keep all the longer lengths of rope for halliards, and we had none to spare.
I cannot stop to explain how we accomplished all this; we could not have done it without employing tackles, which we brought to the windlass, and thus gained twenty times as much power as we by ourselves possessed.
We were now pretty well tired and hungry, for, except some bread and cheese and a jug of cold water, we had taken nothing all day.
It was with a feeling of awe that we went down into the cabin where the old captain lay. Jim, however, closed the door of the state-room, so that we could not see him. We then lighted the fire and cooked some dinner—or rather supper, for evening was drawing on. Anxious to be again at work, we hurried over the meal.
“I say, Peter, don’t you think we ought to bury the skipper?” asked Jim, after a long silence.
“Not for some days to come,” I answered; “I hope that we may get into port first, so as to lay him in a grave on shore.”
“I don’t think it will make much odds to him; and, to say the truth, now he’s dead, I’d rather he were out of the ship,” said Jim; “they say it’s unlucky to have a dead man on board.”
I had some difficulty in persuading Jim of the folly of such a notion, but we finally agreed that we would try to carry the captain’s body to land.
Before bending sails we took a look down forward to see the condition of the leaks. The handspikes were in their places, and, except a slight moisture round the holes, we could not discover that any water was getting in. Still there was a great deal too much in the brig for safety, so we took another spell at the pumps before going on with the rigging.
Darkness found us hard at work. We were too tired and sleepy to attempt keeping a look-out, but I bethought me of hoisting a lantern at each masthead, which would save us from being run down should a breeze spring up during the night Jim thought the idea capital, and promised to get up and trim the lamps.
Fortunately, the nights were short, so that there was not much necessity for that. Our chief wish now was that the calm would continue for a few hours during the next day, that we might get the brig to rights.
“One spell more at the pumps!” cried Jim.
We seized the brakes, worked till we could work no longer, then went below, ate some food from the pantry, and lying down in the two larboard berths in the cabin, were fast asleep in a few seconds.
People talk of sleeping like tops. A hard-worked ship-boy will beat any top in the world at sleeping soundly.
For a second night the brig lay becalmed. I doubt that if even a fierce gale had sprung up it would have awakened us. The sun was shining when I opened my eyes. It might have been shining for hours for what I could tell.
I roused up Jim, and we sprang on deck, vexed at having, as we supposed, lost so much precious time. By the height of the sun above the horizon, however, we judged that it was not so late as we had at first fancied. The clock in the cabin had been unshipped when the brig went over, and the captain’s watch had stopped, so that we had otherwise no means of knowing how the hours passed by. It was still perfectly calm. We looked round in all directions. Not a sail was in sight.
“We must get ready for the breeze, Jim, when it does spring up,” I said. “It will come before many hours are over, I’ve a notion.”
I had observed some light clouds just under the sun.
“May be; but we must take a spell at the pumps first,” he answered—his first thought was always of them.
We turned to as before, till our arms ached, and then we ran down and got some breakfast. We knew the value of time, but we couldn’t get on without eating, any more than other people.
On returning to the deck we lowered the lanterns, which had long since gone out, finished bending the sails, fitting braces, tacks, sheets, and bowlines, and were then ready to hoist away. We at once set all the sails we had ready, to see how they stood. To our satisfaction, they appeared to greater advantage than we had expected.
“They’ll do!” cried Jim, as we surveyed them; “only let us get a breeze from the right quarter, and we’ll soon make the land.”
Fortunately, the rudder had been uninjured when the brig went over, and the wheel was in order. I stood at the helm, longing for the time when I should see the brig moving through the water. I may say, once for all, that at very frequent intervals Jim and I went to the pumps, but he stood longer at the work than I did. There was urgent necessity for our doing so, as, notwithstanding all our exertions, we had but slightly diminished the water in the hold.
When not thus occupied we did various things that were necessary about the brig; among others we got life-lines round the shattered bulwarks, so that should a heavy sea get up, we might run less risk of being washed overboard. We also went to the store-room, and brought to the cabin various descriptions of provisions, that we might have them at hand when wanted. We knew that when once we got a wind we should have no time to do anything besides navigating the vessel.
I had gone below to get dinner ready, the only hot meal we took in the day, leaving Jim pumping, when I heard him sing out down the companion-hatchway—
“Here it comes, and a rattling breeze, too.”
I sprang on deck and went to the helm, while Jim stood ready to trim sails. Looking astern I could see a line of white foam sweeping along towards us over the surface of the ocean. Before it was up to us the sails bulged out, the brig gathered way, and presently she was gliding at the rate of three or four knots through the water.
Jim and I shouted with exultation—we forgot the past—we thought not of the future. We believed that we were about to reap the fruit of our labours.
For several hours we ran on with the wind right aft, steering due west. I steered for most of the time, but Jim occasionally relieved me. So eager were we that we forgot all about eating, till he cried out—
“I must have some food, Peter, or I shall drop.”
I was running below to get it, feeling just as hungry as he did, when the wind hauled more to the southward. We took a pull at the starboard braces, and I then hurried below to bring up what we wanted. Just as I was cutting some meat which had been boiling till the fire went out, I heard a crash. I sprang up on deck. The brig was again dismasted, and Jim was struggling in the waves astern.