Story 2—Chapter VII.The Last of the Old Ship.It was not an English frigate, as might have been supposed, from the observation of the pirate chief, but one of those despatch vessels that we usually keep in eastern waters in attendance on our Mediterranean fleet; and being a steamer, of course she could arrest her progress, and remain in proximity to theMuscadinewithout the necessity of laying-to like a sailing-ship, or any trouble save slacking speed.“Answer,” repeated the corsair sternly, still in the same melodramatic whisper, enforcing his order with a dig of the revolver barrel in Tompkins’ side.“TheMus—” began the mate in faltering accents. But another savage dig of the pistol improved his articulation, and he shouted out, as loud almost as if he had a speaking-trumpet like the officer who had hailed them.“TheMuscadineof Bristol,” he cried with all the power of his lungs, “from Beyrout to Smyrna with assorted cargo.”“Any news from the Levant?” was the next query from the ship-of-war. “Stop, I’ll send a boat aboard.”This, however, was the last thing which the corsair desired, and he impressed some whispered instructions rapidly on Mr Tompkins, with the assistance again of the pistol barrel; and that worthy spoke equally rapidly, to prevent the other vessel from lowering a boat, which they were on the point of doing, as they could hear the men piped away by the boatswain’s call for the purpose.“Fever very bad at Beyrout,” sang out the first mate, again, inspired by his tutor. “Had to leave half crew in hospital! Short-handed! Can you lend us a few men? Who shall we report as having met us?”This answer at once arrested the intention of the commander of the despatch vessel, and prevented his sending a boat to them—as the corsair had surmised it would, from the fear of his bluejackets catching the infection, Syrian fevers being as much dreaded in the Mediterranean as the plague—for the reply shouted back was an apology for non-communication or help.“Sorry for you, but cannot spare any men! You’ll have to go into quarantine at Smyrna. ReportH.M.S. Batrachia, from the Dardanelles to Malta.”And then, in obedience to the orders of the officer on the bridge, the despatch vessel circled round again on her way; and putting on full steam was soon lost to sight in a cloud of black smoke far-away to leeward.To the captain and two lads below it was the keenest agony to hear the welcome hail of the English steamer followed by the mate’s prevaricating reply, when they were certain that but one single word as to the real truth of the case would have summoned their countrymen to their rescue, and ensured the punishment of their lawless captors.Of course they knew that Mr Tompkins had acted under intimidation, having been compelled to give the answers he did and prevented from calling for assistance; but both Tom and Charley would have died rather than have sacrificed the chance of their comrades’ escape through any morbid fear as to their own personal safety.They could not speak to each other, being gagged, and having a couple of assassin—looking scoundrels mounting guard over them in addition, as they lay where they were thrown down on the floor of the main cabin; but their eyes said, as plainly as eyes could speak, the thoughts that were uppermost in the mind of each—a feeling of disappointment at the hope of a rescue being so rudely dispelled when it looked so imminent, and a sense of disgust at the disgraceful cowardice of the mate.It may seem strange that the corsair, who had spared the lives of the captain and the remainder of the crew of theMuscadine, and appeared really on such jovial terms with his prisoners up to the moment of his going below with Captain Harding to look at the ship’s papers, should all at once change his demeanour and come out in his true colours; but, the matter is easy enough of explanation.The corsair had been led to think that the merchant ship was freighted with a valuable cargo of silk and tobacco, the bulk of which he could have readily transferred to the felucca, as they were handy of shipment; consequently, when he found out that the vessel was only half-loaded with wine and fruit, which would require considerable storage room, and be then almost valueless in the only markets he could command, his rage knew no bounds. Added to this, Captain Harding, acting under a sense of duty to his owners, had concealed the fact of his possessing a considerable sum of money on board in drafts on bankers at Smyrna; while the pirate chief, supposing that he did have money, looked to find it in specie, and was correspondingly disappointed a second time. And thus it was that he was sorry at having spared the lives of the Englishmen after the fray had occurred; although he regretted that he had planned the capture of the ship at all, and placed himself and his companions in peril for a prize that was uncommonly like the king of Siam’s present of a white elephant to one he meant to ruin; for it was useless to him, and he could not destroy the vessel or abandon it where she was, in the regular waterway of communication between the cities of the East, for fear of her being discovered, and he and his band of desperadoes pursued before they had ensured their safety by flight. He wished now to get rid of the ship, and secure whatever of her cargo he could carry away—for his men must have some booty to repay their trouble and risk; but he must seek some out-of-the-way spot first, where he might unload her, and then, as he told his prisoners, burn her—and them, too, as far as he cared—to destroy all traces of his handiwork and the possibility of detection. Had he not thought it worth his while, he would certainly never have attacked the vessel.To tell the truth, the corsair was in a quandary; so, when the smoke of the man-of-war steamer had melted into the air, he summoned Captain Harding and the rest on deck again, and having their gags removed, interrogated them once more.“You say, captain,” said he, knitting his brows and looking the skipper straight in the eyes, to see whether he was telling the truth, “that you have no money, beyond the few piastres and two or three English sovereigns I saw in your desk in the after cabin?”The honest seaman could not tell a lie even to an enemy and a robber as this man was—at least, not unblushingly; so, unlike his usual way, he could not face his questioner, but gazed down on the planking of the deck as he spoke.“No—that is, yes,” replied the captain hesitatingly: it was very different to his round, bluff way of bringing out his sentences with an honest straightforwardness.“You had better be careful,” said the other in a threatening manner. “It is strange that you should be bound to Smyrna for more cargo, and not have the wherewithal to purchase it with! Have you got any more money or not? Reflect, it is the last time I shall ask you the question.”Mr Tompkins stood by unbound, while his fellow-prisoners had their hands bound behind their backs, and their legs likewise tied. He thought it a mark of the higher consideration in which he was held, whereas the corsair considered he wasn’t worth the trouble of binding, being one who would not have the pluck to help himself or his fellows. Unbound he was, however; and, anxious to ingratiate himself further with those in power, the mate up and spoke, heedless of Captain Harding’s angry exclamation to hold his tongue, and the boys’ cries of “Shame!”“The captain forgets,” Mr Tompkins said, addressing himself to the corsair. “He might not have hard cash, but he has a draft, I know, on a firm at Smyrna.”“Oh-ho!” exclaimed the pirate chief, a gleam of triumphant satisfaction passing over his face for an instant, and then vanishing as he again confronted the captain sternly.“I thought an Englishman’s word was his bond through the world,” he said in a scornful tone, which made the captain redden as his conscience accused him of having told an untruth, or at all events, of having been guilty of an evasion.“It wasn’t my money,” he said, as if to extenuate his previous denial.“Then you have got a draft, such as this fellow speaks of?” continued the corsair, pointing contemptuously with his foot at the mate, with a kick.“Yes,” said the captain.“Where is it?”“In a note-book in the pocket of that coat of mine you’ve got on,” said Captain Harding, with a gesture at the borrowed monkey-jacket which the other still wore.“Oh, thanks! Then it is quite handy,” said the corsair, clapping his hand in the breast-pocket of the appropriated garment, and producing a thick Russian leather wallet, which he proceeded to open with nervous hands.“Respect my private papers,” said the captain, as the other fumbled amidst a mass of memoranda and other documents. “There is only one draft there, and nothing else valuable, I pledge you my word.”“Honour?” asked the other.“On my honour there is not,” replied Captain Harding with dignity. “I never said that when you asked me about money in the cabin; so, you may believe me.”“I do believe you, captain,” said the pirate chief with a light laugh, which might have been caused by the sight of a banker’s draft which he unfolded at the moment, as much as by his words. “I give you the credit of not being able to tell a lie with any spirit, as you tried to do just now. Here are your papers; this will be enough for me.” And he then read out the draft, which ran as follows:—“From Bracegirdle, Pollyblank, and Company, Ship and Insurance Agents, Birchin Lane, London, to Miguel, Mavrocordato, and Thomasson, Frères, Fruit Merchants and General Shippers, Smyrna, 17th March, 1881. At three days’ sight pay to John Harding, master of the shipMuscadine, or order, the sum of one thousand five hundred and seventy-five pounds sterling. Value received.“1575 pounds, 0 shillings 0 pence. Bracegirdle, Pollyblank and Co.”“This is a very nice little sum of money,” said the corsair complacently, restored to all his previous good humour; “a very nice little sum of money!”“Wait till you get it,” said Captain Harding gruffly, by no means pleased at the other’s satisfaction.“Oh, I shall get it easily enough,” replied the corsair airily. “You’ve only to put your signature to it, and the thing’s done.”“When I sign it,” said the captain, pointedly.“Ah! my dear captain, there will be no bother about that, when I ask you politely,” retorted the pirate chief, with a significant look, which did not have the slightest effect on the brave sailor—indeed it only made him smile.“We will see,” was all he said in reply, but his determined expression of face added the rest.“I can wait,” answered the other; “so we will not argue the point, for at present I have got more pressing matters to attend to.”A signal was then made to the felucca, which had kept the ship in sight all the while, although close in to the land, and apparently proceeding on a coasting-voyage, and having nothing to do with the other vessel; and then, the course of theMuscadinewas altered and she bore up for the Cyclades.“I have no further dread of meeting any of your floating bull dogs,” said the pirate chief affably, as if in explanation of his motives. “And none of the French cruisers are up here now; they are all too busy in Tunisian waters. So, I may as well shift your cargo, captain, at the back of one of the little islands we are coming to, where we can lie by unseen without any interference.”During the whole of that day, the ship was steered amongst a parcel of shoals, which made poor Captain Harding tremble for her safety, albeit she was taken out of his control; and, towards nightfall, she was brought to anchor in sixteen fathoms, under the lea of a rocky cliff that projected up into a peak on one of the tiny islets by which they were encircled. Here, the felucca having followed them, the pick of her cargo was removed to the smaller craft—a few bales of silk, some tobacco, and a good portion of wine; the cases of dried fruit being left untouched, as taking them to any of the Greek ports with the idea of finding a market for their contents, as the corsair well knew, would have been like carrying coals to Newcastle.Then, the Englishmen, who had been well treated all the day in the matter of food and drink—some books even were brought up by the orders of the leader from the cabin, for them to read, his courtesy and attention were so great—were removed to the felucca, being followed by the Greek sailors; Captain Harding and the others subsequently witnessing the melancholy sight of the ill-fatedMuscadinesinking at her anchors, for she had been scuttled in several places after the selected goods had been transferred to the pirate’s own vessel, which remained on the spot till the other disappeared beneath the waves.“I should have liked to have burnt her, as I said I would do,” observed the corsair, as theMuscadinewent down bows foremost, “all standing,” with a graceful plunge; “but I was afraid of attracting notice. However, she is safe now at the bottom, at all events; and sunken ships, like dead men, tell no tales!”Captain Harding made no reply.His heart was too full at seeing his ship, which he regarded almost like a living thing, so recklessly destroyed before his eyes; it was the ship which he had first gone to sea in as a boy, and which it had been the ambition of his life to command. It was too much, and turning his head away as the tips of her spars sank from view, he wiped away a tear from his eye with the back of his horny hand.Nothing that the pirates had done hitherto affected him like this.
It was not an English frigate, as might have been supposed, from the observation of the pirate chief, but one of those despatch vessels that we usually keep in eastern waters in attendance on our Mediterranean fleet; and being a steamer, of course she could arrest her progress, and remain in proximity to theMuscadinewithout the necessity of laying-to like a sailing-ship, or any trouble save slacking speed.
“Answer,” repeated the corsair sternly, still in the same melodramatic whisper, enforcing his order with a dig of the revolver barrel in Tompkins’ side.
“TheMus—” began the mate in faltering accents. But another savage dig of the pistol improved his articulation, and he shouted out, as loud almost as if he had a speaking-trumpet like the officer who had hailed them.
“TheMuscadineof Bristol,” he cried with all the power of his lungs, “from Beyrout to Smyrna with assorted cargo.”
“Any news from the Levant?” was the next query from the ship-of-war. “Stop, I’ll send a boat aboard.”
This, however, was the last thing which the corsair desired, and he impressed some whispered instructions rapidly on Mr Tompkins, with the assistance again of the pistol barrel; and that worthy spoke equally rapidly, to prevent the other vessel from lowering a boat, which they were on the point of doing, as they could hear the men piped away by the boatswain’s call for the purpose.
“Fever very bad at Beyrout,” sang out the first mate, again, inspired by his tutor. “Had to leave half crew in hospital! Short-handed! Can you lend us a few men? Who shall we report as having met us?”
This answer at once arrested the intention of the commander of the despatch vessel, and prevented his sending a boat to them—as the corsair had surmised it would, from the fear of his bluejackets catching the infection, Syrian fevers being as much dreaded in the Mediterranean as the plague—for the reply shouted back was an apology for non-communication or help.
“Sorry for you, but cannot spare any men! You’ll have to go into quarantine at Smyrna. ReportH.M.S. Batrachia, from the Dardanelles to Malta.”
And then, in obedience to the orders of the officer on the bridge, the despatch vessel circled round again on her way; and putting on full steam was soon lost to sight in a cloud of black smoke far-away to leeward.
To the captain and two lads below it was the keenest agony to hear the welcome hail of the English steamer followed by the mate’s prevaricating reply, when they were certain that but one single word as to the real truth of the case would have summoned their countrymen to their rescue, and ensured the punishment of their lawless captors.
Of course they knew that Mr Tompkins had acted under intimidation, having been compelled to give the answers he did and prevented from calling for assistance; but both Tom and Charley would have died rather than have sacrificed the chance of their comrades’ escape through any morbid fear as to their own personal safety.
They could not speak to each other, being gagged, and having a couple of assassin—looking scoundrels mounting guard over them in addition, as they lay where they were thrown down on the floor of the main cabin; but their eyes said, as plainly as eyes could speak, the thoughts that were uppermost in the mind of each—a feeling of disappointment at the hope of a rescue being so rudely dispelled when it looked so imminent, and a sense of disgust at the disgraceful cowardice of the mate.
It may seem strange that the corsair, who had spared the lives of the captain and the remainder of the crew of theMuscadine, and appeared really on such jovial terms with his prisoners up to the moment of his going below with Captain Harding to look at the ship’s papers, should all at once change his demeanour and come out in his true colours; but, the matter is easy enough of explanation.
The corsair had been led to think that the merchant ship was freighted with a valuable cargo of silk and tobacco, the bulk of which he could have readily transferred to the felucca, as they were handy of shipment; consequently, when he found out that the vessel was only half-loaded with wine and fruit, which would require considerable storage room, and be then almost valueless in the only markets he could command, his rage knew no bounds. Added to this, Captain Harding, acting under a sense of duty to his owners, had concealed the fact of his possessing a considerable sum of money on board in drafts on bankers at Smyrna; while the pirate chief, supposing that he did have money, looked to find it in specie, and was correspondingly disappointed a second time. And thus it was that he was sorry at having spared the lives of the Englishmen after the fray had occurred; although he regretted that he had planned the capture of the ship at all, and placed himself and his companions in peril for a prize that was uncommonly like the king of Siam’s present of a white elephant to one he meant to ruin; for it was useless to him, and he could not destroy the vessel or abandon it where she was, in the regular waterway of communication between the cities of the East, for fear of her being discovered, and he and his band of desperadoes pursued before they had ensured their safety by flight. He wished now to get rid of the ship, and secure whatever of her cargo he could carry away—for his men must have some booty to repay their trouble and risk; but he must seek some out-of-the-way spot first, where he might unload her, and then, as he told his prisoners, burn her—and them, too, as far as he cared—to destroy all traces of his handiwork and the possibility of detection. Had he not thought it worth his while, he would certainly never have attacked the vessel.
To tell the truth, the corsair was in a quandary; so, when the smoke of the man-of-war steamer had melted into the air, he summoned Captain Harding and the rest on deck again, and having their gags removed, interrogated them once more.
“You say, captain,” said he, knitting his brows and looking the skipper straight in the eyes, to see whether he was telling the truth, “that you have no money, beyond the few piastres and two or three English sovereigns I saw in your desk in the after cabin?”
The honest seaman could not tell a lie even to an enemy and a robber as this man was—at least, not unblushingly; so, unlike his usual way, he could not face his questioner, but gazed down on the planking of the deck as he spoke.
“No—that is, yes,” replied the captain hesitatingly: it was very different to his round, bluff way of bringing out his sentences with an honest straightforwardness.
“You had better be careful,” said the other in a threatening manner. “It is strange that you should be bound to Smyrna for more cargo, and not have the wherewithal to purchase it with! Have you got any more money or not? Reflect, it is the last time I shall ask you the question.”
Mr Tompkins stood by unbound, while his fellow-prisoners had their hands bound behind their backs, and their legs likewise tied. He thought it a mark of the higher consideration in which he was held, whereas the corsair considered he wasn’t worth the trouble of binding, being one who would not have the pluck to help himself or his fellows. Unbound he was, however; and, anxious to ingratiate himself further with those in power, the mate up and spoke, heedless of Captain Harding’s angry exclamation to hold his tongue, and the boys’ cries of “Shame!”
“The captain forgets,” Mr Tompkins said, addressing himself to the corsair. “He might not have hard cash, but he has a draft, I know, on a firm at Smyrna.”
“Oh-ho!” exclaimed the pirate chief, a gleam of triumphant satisfaction passing over his face for an instant, and then vanishing as he again confronted the captain sternly.
“I thought an Englishman’s word was his bond through the world,” he said in a scornful tone, which made the captain redden as his conscience accused him of having told an untruth, or at all events, of having been guilty of an evasion.
“It wasn’t my money,” he said, as if to extenuate his previous denial.
“Then you have got a draft, such as this fellow speaks of?” continued the corsair, pointing contemptuously with his foot at the mate, with a kick.
“Yes,” said the captain.
“Where is it?”
“In a note-book in the pocket of that coat of mine you’ve got on,” said Captain Harding, with a gesture at the borrowed monkey-jacket which the other still wore.
“Oh, thanks! Then it is quite handy,” said the corsair, clapping his hand in the breast-pocket of the appropriated garment, and producing a thick Russian leather wallet, which he proceeded to open with nervous hands.
“Respect my private papers,” said the captain, as the other fumbled amidst a mass of memoranda and other documents. “There is only one draft there, and nothing else valuable, I pledge you my word.”
“Honour?” asked the other.
“On my honour there is not,” replied Captain Harding with dignity. “I never said that when you asked me about money in the cabin; so, you may believe me.”
“I do believe you, captain,” said the pirate chief with a light laugh, which might have been caused by the sight of a banker’s draft which he unfolded at the moment, as much as by his words. “I give you the credit of not being able to tell a lie with any spirit, as you tried to do just now. Here are your papers; this will be enough for me.” And he then read out the draft, which ran as follows:—
“From Bracegirdle, Pollyblank, and Company, Ship and Insurance Agents, Birchin Lane, London, to Miguel, Mavrocordato, and Thomasson, Frères, Fruit Merchants and General Shippers, Smyrna, 17th March, 1881. At three days’ sight pay to John Harding, master of the shipMuscadine, or order, the sum of one thousand five hundred and seventy-five pounds sterling. Value received.
“1575 pounds, 0 shillings 0 pence. Bracegirdle, Pollyblank and Co.”
“This is a very nice little sum of money,” said the corsair complacently, restored to all his previous good humour; “a very nice little sum of money!”
“Wait till you get it,” said Captain Harding gruffly, by no means pleased at the other’s satisfaction.
“Oh, I shall get it easily enough,” replied the corsair airily. “You’ve only to put your signature to it, and the thing’s done.”
“When I sign it,” said the captain, pointedly.
“Ah! my dear captain, there will be no bother about that, when I ask you politely,” retorted the pirate chief, with a significant look, which did not have the slightest effect on the brave sailor—indeed it only made him smile.
“We will see,” was all he said in reply, but his determined expression of face added the rest.
“I can wait,” answered the other; “so we will not argue the point, for at present I have got more pressing matters to attend to.”
A signal was then made to the felucca, which had kept the ship in sight all the while, although close in to the land, and apparently proceeding on a coasting-voyage, and having nothing to do with the other vessel; and then, the course of theMuscadinewas altered and she bore up for the Cyclades.
“I have no further dread of meeting any of your floating bull dogs,” said the pirate chief affably, as if in explanation of his motives. “And none of the French cruisers are up here now; they are all too busy in Tunisian waters. So, I may as well shift your cargo, captain, at the back of one of the little islands we are coming to, where we can lie by unseen without any interference.”
During the whole of that day, the ship was steered amongst a parcel of shoals, which made poor Captain Harding tremble for her safety, albeit she was taken out of his control; and, towards nightfall, she was brought to anchor in sixteen fathoms, under the lea of a rocky cliff that projected up into a peak on one of the tiny islets by which they were encircled. Here, the felucca having followed them, the pick of her cargo was removed to the smaller craft—a few bales of silk, some tobacco, and a good portion of wine; the cases of dried fruit being left untouched, as taking them to any of the Greek ports with the idea of finding a market for their contents, as the corsair well knew, would have been like carrying coals to Newcastle.
Then, the Englishmen, who had been well treated all the day in the matter of food and drink—some books even were brought up by the orders of the leader from the cabin, for them to read, his courtesy and attention were so great—were removed to the felucca, being followed by the Greek sailors; Captain Harding and the others subsequently witnessing the melancholy sight of the ill-fatedMuscadinesinking at her anchors, for she had been scuttled in several places after the selected goods had been transferred to the pirate’s own vessel, which remained on the spot till the other disappeared beneath the waves.
“I should have liked to have burnt her, as I said I would do,” observed the corsair, as theMuscadinewent down bows foremost, “all standing,” with a graceful plunge; “but I was afraid of attracting notice. However, she is safe now at the bottom, at all events; and sunken ships, like dead men, tell no tales!”
Captain Harding made no reply.
His heart was too full at seeing his ship, which he regarded almost like a living thing, so recklessly destroyed before his eyes; it was the ship which he had first gone to sea in as a boy, and which it had been the ambition of his life to command. It was too much, and turning his head away as the tips of her spars sank from view, he wiped away a tear from his eye with the back of his horny hand.
Nothing that the pirates had done hitherto affected him like this.
Story 2—Chapter VIII.Amongst the Brigands.As soon as theMuscadinehad succumbed to her ill fate so tragically, the felucca made sail at once from the place, steering north, as well as Captain Harding could make out; for neither he nor the boys were allowed to look at the compass, and they none of them spoke to Tompkins since his betrayal of the captain’s trust, although he could probably have told them, for he “appeared to be hail fellow well met” with his captors, as Charley said.The night passed, and again another day and night, without anything noteworthy happening, the swift craft sailing at racehorse speed, and always in the same direction, to the best of their belief, as if towards some fixed destination; but the corsair did not enlighten them, and, indeed, did not address them during the interval.Towards the evening of the second day on which they were on board her, the felucca drew near land, from which she held off and on until the shades of night covered her movements, when she approached close to the shore, and a boat was lowered over her side.The pirate chief then, for the first time since theMuscadinedisappeared under the waters of the Aegean Sea, addressed Captain Harding and his companions, who had found the time of their captivity hang wearily on their hands, although they were virtually free to walk about on board their prison-house, with the exception of speaking to any of the crew or looking at the compass, both of which were interdicted, with significant threats whenever they tried to evade the prohibition.“Now, captain,” said the corsair, with an oily smile, which sat worse upon his countenance than a frown, “I will thank you to sign this order,” producing the skipper’s bank-draft, and a pen and ink all ready for the purpose. “Just sign it, and I will put you and your brother Englishmen ashore at once.”“Where are we?” asked the captain.“On the coast of Greece,” was the answer, “not far from Salonica, where I am going with the felucca to dispose of my cargo,” with a naïve candour which made Charley Onslow laugh outright.“His cargo, indeed,” he whispered to Tom. “You have often talked of my Irish impudence, but, bedad, that beats Banagher.”“Be quiet,” replied Tom; “you’ll only get us into a row.”But the leader of the pirates took no heed of the interruption; he was too busy about the money order.“Come, sign,” he repeated to the captain.“And suppose I don’t?” said he.“Then you and your companions will be imprisoned in the mountains until you do, up to a certain period—until I have time to complete my business at Salonica, that is—and if, on my return from thence, you still continue obdurate, why, then all of you had better say your prayers—” completing his sentence with an emphatic gesture which could not be misunderstood.The captain was obstinate. He thought that now they were near a well-known port, and in comparatively civilised regions, the pirate chief would not dare to carry out his threat, and after a time, if he only held out, would be satisfied with the share of booty he had already secured, particularly, as from some remarks which he casually let fall when the cargo was being shifted, it had turned out to be more valuable than he had anticipated.Once he had made up his mind, nothing would make the captain budge an inch from the position he had taken up. He could be as obstinate as a mule when he liked.“I refuse to sign the draft, and you may whistle for the money,” he said doggedly.“You better had,” urged the other. “I only advise you for your own good. Those brigand friends of mine in the mountains, who will be your jailers, are a rough lot, and not to be trifled with.”“I will see you hanged first!” shouted out the captain, out of all patience, and he then closed his lips together tightly to show that he did not intend saying another word.“Absit omen,” quoted the corsair; “hanging is a ticklish subject. Polydori,” turning to one of the Greeks, “take charge of these Englishmen, with ten others of your best men. Your lives will answer for theirs until you give them into Mocatto’s keeping. You know the rendezvous, where to meet him and his band. Captain, and young gentlemen, adieu! May you be of a more practical mind when I see you again, which will not be long.”And, with these words, the corsair took leave of the captives, who, after being gagged again, and having their hands all tied behind them—including Tompkins this time, much to the boys’ satisfaction—were put into the boat that lay alongside, and rowed ashore, under a strong guard, with the Greek Polydori at their head.It was a change of scene from their cooped-up quarters on board the felucca; but after they had had a toilsome march, uphill all the way, through mountainous defiles and along the roughest of paths, they wished themselves back again in their floating prison.Arrived at a cross-turning surrounded by a thicket of stunted shrubs, the leader of the guard that accompanied them cried a halt, uttering a shrill and prolonged whistle, which was presently repeated from the hills above.An approaching footstep was then heard, and a challenge, to which Polydori replied with some password, after which there was a long colloquy between him and the stranger.They were then ordered to resume their march, although they had been walking two hours since they had quitted the shore, Polydori and the stranger leading the column, with the prisoners in the centre and the other guards in the front and rear. In this manner they proceeded until the unfortunate captives were ready to drop with fatigue, while their board ship shoes were worn into shreds by the stones and prickles of the path they had traversed, and their feet all bleeding and torn.“I can’t go a step farther!” exclaimed Tom, dropping in his footsteps. “Good-bye all.”But the guards prodded him with their knives, and made him rise again. So he tottered along, until the column, marching in a sort of military order, and passing numerous sentinels, who challenged the leaders, and stopped them till they gave the countersign, entered suddenly on a large encampment of men, squatting on the ground amidst a circle of fires. There were no tents nor waggons to bear out the illusion, but otherwise the scene resembled a bivouac of some expeditionary force.The brigands, as the English readily guessed these gentry to be, were some forty or more in number, and were principally Greeks and Albanians, clad in their picturesque dress—a short sleeveless jacket, coarse gaiters and shoes, a kilt of some rough texture, and a fez; while across their chests they carried a cartridge belt, and around their waist a sash, in which were stuck pistols and knives, not forgetting the long yataghan, that hung to their sides in the same fashion as they had noticed with the crew of the pirate felucca.Amongst this band of miscreants, who thought less of murder than they did of killing a fowl, the survivors of theMuscadinesuffered a species of moral torture for more than a week, being moved from place to place meanwhile, generally by night, as the brigands’ encampment was shifted to evade the pursuit of the Turkish troops, who were wonderfully active in hunting the mountain gentry about—after Mr Suter’s and Colonel Synge’s release!During this time, they heard nothing of the pirate chief, although the leader of the brigands—a gigantic Albanian named Mocatto—was continually engaged in pleasantly putting before Captain Harding what he and his countrymen might expect should the bank-draft remain unsigned after the corsair’s return—of course acting under that worthy’s instructions; pointing the moral of his remarks by practising the most unheard-of cruelties on such captives as the brigands brought in day by day, who were unable or unwilling to send to their friends to ransom them.At last, one day, after witnessing the horrible exhibition of a poor Turk having his clothing saturated with paraffine oil, and then set fire to, the captain, urged more by considerations for the safety of Tom and Charley and his men, than for his own, gave in, and told Mocatto that he would sign the draft.“That is good,” said the brigand. “Demetri comes to-night, and you can sign it in the presence of the chief. If you do not, you know the consequences.”However, as it turned out, Captain Harding was fortunately able to keep his word to the corsair, when he said “he would see him hanged first” before he should attach his name to the money order.That very same afternoon, a whole battalion of Turkish troops, sent out from Salonica, surrounded one of the mountains in which the brigands’ stronghold was situated; and after desperate fighting, in which many men were killed on either side, compelled the surrender of Mocatto’s band.Demetri, the pirate chief, who was on his way, like Shylock, for his bond or pound of flesh from the captain, got captured amongst other prisoners, and was subsequently hanged along with them on the mountain side, as a warning to all dishonest folk.Tom and Charley, and the captain, escaped scot free,—through a miracle almost, the brigands being attacked so suddenly that they were unable to murder their captives, as they invariably do when assailed by the troops—and so did the sailors along with them; all but Tompkins, who, as if in punishment for his treachery and cowardice, got shot by a passing bullet.“It is a long lane that has no turning,” as the proverb runs; and, to paraphrase it, it must be a long story which has no ending: so there must be an end to this.TheMuscadinecould not be raised again. But Captain Harding got another ship, of which Tom Aldridge was appointed second officer, and Charley Onslow third, on probation; and the three, captain and youngsters, have had a voyage or two already. But they have not forgotten, nor are they likely to forget, their memorable adventures in their passage from Beyrout, nor Mohammed’s old friend, “The Corsair of Chios.”
As soon as theMuscadinehad succumbed to her ill fate so tragically, the felucca made sail at once from the place, steering north, as well as Captain Harding could make out; for neither he nor the boys were allowed to look at the compass, and they none of them spoke to Tompkins since his betrayal of the captain’s trust, although he could probably have told them, for he “appeared to be hail fellow well met” with his captors, as Charley said.
The night passed, and again another day and night, without anything noteworthy happening, the swift craft sailing at racehorse speed, and always in the same direction, to the best of their belief, as if towards some fixed destination; but the corsair did not enlighten them, and, indeed, did not address them during the interval.
Towards the evening of the second day on which they were on board her, the felucca drew near land, from which she held off and on until the shades of night covered her movements, when she approached close to the shore, and a boat was lowered over her side.
The pirate chief then, for the first time since theMuscadinedisappeared under the waters of the Aegean Sea, addressed Captain Harding and his companions, who had found the time of their captivity hang wearily on their hands, although they were virtually free to walk about on board their prison-house, with the exception of speaking to any of the crew or looking at the compass, both of which were interdicted, with significant threats whenever they tried to evade the prohibition.
“Now, captain,” said the corsair, with an oily smile, which sat worse upon his countenance than a frown, “I will thank you to sign this order,” producing the skipper’s bank-draft, and a pen and ink all ready for the purpose. “Just sign it, and I will put you and your brother Englishmen ashore at once.”
“Where are we?” asked the captain.
“On the coast of Greece,” was the answer, “not far from Salonica, where I am going with the felucca to dispose of my cargo,” with a naïve candour which made Charley Onslow laugh outright.
“His cargo, indeed,” he whispered to Tom. “You have often talked of my Irish impudence, but, bedad, that beats Banagher.”
“Be quiet,” replied Tom; “you’ll only get us into a row.”
But the leader of the pirates took no heed of the interruption; he was too busy about the money order.
“Come, sign,” he repeated to the captain.
“And suppose I don’t?” said he.
“Then you and your companions will be imprisoned in the mountains until you do, up to a certain period—until I have time to complete my business at Salonica, that is—and if, on my return from thence, you still continue obdurate, why, then all of you had better say your prayers—” completing his sentence with an emphatic gesture which could not be misunderstood.
The captain was obstinate. He thought that now they were near a well-known port, and in comparatively civilised regions, the pirate chief would not dare to carry out his threat, and after a time, if he only held out, would be satisfied with the share of booty he had already secured, particularly, as from some remarks which he casually let fall when the cargo was being shifted, it had turned out to be more valuable than he had anticipated.
Once he had made up his mind, nothing would make the captain budge an inch from the position he had taken up. He could be as obstinate as a mule when he liked.
“I refuse to sign the draft, and you may whistle for the money,” he said doggedly.
“You better had,” urged the other. “I only advise you for your own good. Those brigand friends of mine in the mountains, who will be your jailers, are a rough lot, and not to be trifled with.”
“I will see you hanged first!” shouted out the captain, out of all patience, and he then closed his lips together tightly to show that he did not intend saying another word.
“Absit omen,” quoted the corsair; “hanging is a ticklish subject. Polydori,” turning to one of the Greeks, “take charge of these Englishmen, with ten others of your best men. Your lives will answer for theirs until you give them into Mocatto’s keeping. You know the rendezvous, where to meet him and his band. Captain, and young gentlemen, adieu! May you be of a more practical mind when I see you again, which will not be long.”
And, with these words, the corsair took leave of the captives, who, after being gagged again, and having their hands all tied behind them—including Tompkins this time, much to the boys’ satisfaction—were put into the boat that lay alongside, and rowed ashore, under a strong guard, with the Greek Polydori at their head.
It was a change of scene from their cooped-up quarters on board the felucca; but after they had had a toilsome march, uphill all the way, through mountainous defiles and along the roughest of paths, they wished themselves back again in their floating prison.
Arrived at a cross-turning surrounded by a thicket of stunted shrubs, the leader of the guard that accompanied them cried a halt, uttering a shrill and prolonged whistle, which was presently repeated from the hills above.
An approaching footstep was then heard, and a challenge, to which Polydori replied with some password, after which there was a long colloquy between him and the stranger.
They were then ordered to resume their march, although they had been walking two hours since they had quitted the shore, Polydori and the stranger leading the column, with the prisoners in the centre and the other guards in the front and rear. In this manner they proceeded until the unfortunate captives were ready to drop with fatigue, while their board ship shoes were worn into shreds by the stones and prickles of the path they had traversed, and their feet all bleeding and torn.
“I can’t go a step farther!” exclaimed Tom, dropping in his footsteps. “Good-bye all.”
But the guards prodded him with their knives, and made him rise again. So he tottered along, until the column, marching in a sort of military order, and passing numerous sentinels, who challenged the leaders, and stopped them till they gave the countersign, entered suddenly on a large encampment of men, squatting on the ground amidst a circle of fires. There were no tents nor waggons to bear out the illusion, but otherwise the scene resembled a bivouac of some expeditionary force.
The brigands, as the English readily guessed these gentry to be, were some forty or more in number, and were principally Greeks and Albanians, clad in their picturesque dress—a short sleeveless jacket, coarse gaiters and shoes, a kilt of some rough texture, and a fez; while across their chests they carried a cartridge belt, and around their waist a sash, in which were stuck pistols and knives, not forgetting the long yataghan, that hung to their sides in the same fashion as they had noticed with the crew of the pirate felucca.
Amongst this band of miscreants, who thought less of murder than they did of killing a fowl, the survivors of theMuscadinesuffered a species of moral torture for more than a week, being moved from place to place meanwhile, generally by night, as the brigands’ encampment was shifted to evade the pursuit of the Turkish troops, who were wonderfully active in hunting the mountain gentry about—after Mr Suter’s and Colonel Synge’s release!
During this time, they heard nothing of the pirate chief, although the leader of the brigands—a gigantic Albanian named Mocatto—was continually engaged in pleasantly putting before Captain Harding what he and his countrymen might expect should the bank-draft remain unsigned after the corsair’s return—of course acting under that worthy’s instructions; pointing the moral of his remarks by practising the most unheard-of cruelties on such captives as the brigands brought in day by day, who were unable or unwilling to send to their friends to ransom them.
At last, one day, after witnessing the horrible exhibition of a poor Turk having his clothing saturated with paraffine oil, and then set fire to, the captain, urged more by considerations for the safety of Tom and Charley and his men, than for his own, gave in, and told Mocatto that he would sign the draft.
“That is good,” said the brigand. “Demetri comes to-night, and you can sign it in the presence of the chief. If you do not, you know the consequences.”
However, as it turned out, Captain Harding was fortunately able to keep his word to the corsair, when he said “he would see him hanged first” before he should attach his name to the money order.
That very same afternoon, a whole battalion of Turkish troops, sent out from Salonica, surrounded one of the mountains in which the brigands’ stronghold was situated; and after desperate fighting, in which many men were killed on either side, compelled the surrender of Mocatto’s band.
Demetri, the pirate chief, who was on his way, like Shylock, for his bond or pound of flesh from the captain, got captured amongst other prisoners, and was subsequently hanged along with them on the mountain side, as a warning to all dishonest folk.
Tom and Charley, and the captain, escaped scot free,—through a miracle almost, the brigands being attacked so suddenly that they were unable to murder their captives, as they invariably do when assailed by the troops—and so did the sailors along with them; all but Tompkins, who, as if in punishment for his treachery and cowardice, got shot by a passing bullet.
“It is a long lane that has no turning,” as the proverb runs; and, to paraphrase it, it must be a long story which has no ending: so there must be an end to this.
TheMuscadinecould not be raised again. But Captain Harding got another ship, of which Tom Aldridge was appointed second officer, and Charley Onslow third, on probation; and the three, captain and youngsters, have had a voyage or two already. But they have not forgotten, nor are they likely to forget, their memorable adventures in their passage from Beyrout, nor Mohammed’s old friend, “The Corsair of Chios.”
Story 3—Chapter I.David and Jonathan; or, Lost at Sea.Caught in a Squall.“Dave!”“Hullo!”“What’s that big black thing out there, tumbling about in the sea astern; is it a whale?”“A whale, your grandmother!” sang out Davy Armstrong with a laugh, as he sprang on the taffrail, and holding on to the shrouds with one hand while he shaded his eyes with the other, peered about anxiously in the wake of the vessel in search of the object to which his attention had been drawn by his companion, a dark-haired lad who stood on the deck near him, and whose thin face and slender figure betrayed the delicate constitution of one brought up amidst the smoke and din of cities and busy haunts of men. David, on the contrary, was tall and well-built for his age, about sixteen, with blue eyes and curly brown hair, and the ruddy glow of health on his cheek; and being a middy of some two years’ standing on board theSea Rover, and full of fun and “larkishness,” to coin a term, assumed a slightly protective air towards Johnny Liston, the son of one of the cabin passengers, between whom and himself one of those stanch friendships common to boyhood had sprung up during the voyage to Australia. “A whale, your grandmother, Jonathan!” repeated Davy Armstrong in a bantering tone, with all—as his companion thought he could detect—the conscious superiority of a sucking sailor over a raw landsman, in his voice. “Why, you’ll be seeing the sea serpent soon if you look smart. Where is this wonderful thing you’ve discovered, Jonathan, my son? I’m blest if I can see it.”It need hardly be mentioned that, close friends as they had become in a short time, Johnny Liston rather resented David’s patronage and implied superiority, and he hated his calling him “Jonathan,” or addressing him as “my son,” just as if he were as old as his father, instead of being just of an age, as he would indignantly remonstrate, which knowing, David mischievously made a point of so speaking to him on purpose to tease him, although in good part all the same.“And you call yourself a sailor!” said Johnny Liston mockingly. “Why, there it is, as plain as a pikestaff, on the lift of that wave to the right there! Where are your eyes, stupid?”“Why don’t you say on the port quarter, you lubber?” answered David good-humouredly; “then a fellow would know what you meant! Oh, I see. I think it’s a ship’s boat floating bottom upwards; but I’ll call the skipper’s attention to it, and he’ll soon tell us what it is. Johnny, my boy, you’ve got good eyesight, and deserve a leather medal for seeing that before I did, so I’ll let you have the credit of it.”“Thanks, Dave,” said the other ironically. “I’m glad you can allow for once in a way that you are not infallible, and that somebody else can see as well as yourself.”David meanwhile had crossed over the deck, to where the captain was conversing with a group of passengers, and having pointed out the object which his friend had discovered, a telescope being brought to bear soon proved it to be what his quick eye had already assured him it was, a boat pitching about bottom upwards, probably washed away from some Australian liner like themselves. There was no trace, however, to be seen of any one clinging to the keel, and time was too valuable and the wind too fair for the vessel to be put off her course merely to pick up an empty boat, which would most likely not be worth the trouble of hoisting on board; so they passed on, and it was soon hull-down in the distance.TheSea Roverhad made all her southern latitude, descending to the thirty-sixth parallel. She had passed the Island of Tristan d’Acunha, although at some distance off, a few days before; and now as she was well below the region sacred to the stormy Cape, and had run down the trades, her course was set due east for Melbourne, from which she was yet some thousands of miles away. The wind was fair, almost dead astern, although the sea was high; and as the ship was rather light, she rocked and rolled considerably, the waves washing over her decks, and occasionally running over the poop in an avalanche of water, that swept right forward and made any one hold on that did not wish to be washed off their feet. The sea had a most winterly look. It appeared like a vast hilly country with winding valleys, all covered with sloshy snow just melted, the extreme tops of the waves looking like frozen peaks in between, with the snow as yet not melted. The air, too, was as cold as winter, for it blew from the Antarctic ice; and the gusts came more and more frequent as evening closed in, raising the sea still higher in towering mountains, that rushed after the ship, which was going from ten to twelve-knots an hour under all plain sail, as if they would overwhelm her, striking our sides every now and then heavy ponderous blows, that made; her stagger from her course and quiver right down to her keelson. One gust of wind came all at once with such startling force that it split the main-topsail up like a piece of tissue-paper, and then the captain thought it was about time to take in sail.“I guess we’re going to have a rough spell of it, Jonathan,” said Davy, as he moved away from his companion in obedience to the skipper’s order, “All hands shorten sail!” and stationed himself at his post by the mizzen-halliards.“Will it be serious, Dave?” asked the other, his pale face growing a little paler with apprehension.“Pooh! no, nothing to speak of, only a squall, Jonathan; so don’t be frightened, my boy.”A squall it was with a vengeance.As the wind had been, right aft, the captain had kept theSea Roverunder her royals and topgallantsails, without even taking in a reef, in order to make the most of the twelve-knot breeze that was blowing: it was only at the chief officer’s request that a little time before he had been induced to take in the stunsails; and now the wind seemed to expand so suddenly into a gale, that it was as much as the seamen could do to get the canvas off her before she was struck with the squall, that came up astern at the rate of fifty miles an hour, covering the heavens to windward with great black storm-clouds, and flying wrack like white smoke that drifted before it, and seemed to herald the heavier metal that lay behind that would come into action soon.Everything was let fly, and only just in time; for, without the slightest warning, the wind shifted and struck her on the starboard quarter, and the vessel was almost taken aback, with the waves slipping in over the bows and on the starboard and port sides as she rolled heavily, borne down into the trough of the sea by the force of the gale, her timbers groaning, the spars creaking, blocks rattling, and the wind shrieking and whistling as it tore through the rigging and flapped the sails heavily against the masts with the noise of thunder, as if it would wrench them out of the ship bodily.It was a scene of the utmost confusion while it lasted, with the men running about the deck here and there and pulling and hauling at the halliards and braces, and the captain yelling out stentorian orders through his speaking-trumpet, which nobody apparently understood or attended to; and Davy Armstrong, who had been up aloft to superintend the furling of the mizzen, royal, and topgallantsails, and close reefing of the topsail, was just congratulating himself on getting down on deck alongside of Johnny Liston safe once more, when another squall struck the ship from the opposite quarter, and she heeled over on her side until she buried her topsail-yards in the billows, broadside on, as if she were going to “turn the turtle.”“Oh!” exclaimed Johnny. “She’s going over!”“Not a bit of it,” shouted out Dave in his ear, for the wind howled so that he could hardly make his voice heard. “She’ll right in a minute. But that was a stiff blow!”“Ay, stiffer than the last.”A heavy sea just at the same moment struck the rudder, which, through the ship’s lying over on her side, had been partly raised out of the water, and whirled round the wheel with such force that the man who was steering was lifted off his feet, and as he grasped the spokes with desperation, was dashed down on the deck with an awful impetus, which knocked him insensible. Dave, followed by Johnny, immediately rushed aft, and took the helmsman’s place, although it required all the strength of the two boys to hold on and save the ship from broaching-to, when her spars would have been swept off like ninepins, and a clean sweep made of her bulwarks, and everything on her decks fore and aft, if possible, she did not founder.“Well done, my lads!” shouted out the captain. “Keep her to it,” as he ordered a couple of men aft to help them. “Keep her to it, my lads, you’ll be relieved in a jiffy. Hold on for the life of you, my lads; hold on!”Their strength, however, was unequal to the struggle.Another sea struck the rudder again almost in the same place, and David and Jonathan were floored in an instant.Round span the wheel with mad velocity, now uncontrolled, jamming poor Davy’s leg between the rudder beam and the wheel post, while Johnny lay sprawling on the deck, holding on like grim death to a stray end of the mizzen-halliard that had been cast loose from the cleats. Another turn of the spokes of the wheel, as the rudder was banged to and fro by the billows, and Davy’s leg was released, although sadly crushed, and he was flung against the binnacle; and then a gigantic wave pooped the ship, coming in over the stern, and before the captain, or Johnny, or the men who were hurrying aft as rapidly as the motion of the ship would allow them, could stretch out a hand to save him, poor Davy was swept over the side to leeward, grasping tightly with the energy of despair, as he was carried away, a portion of the roof of the wheelhouse, which had been broken off by the same wave which washed him overboard, as well as part of the bulwarks.“Oh, Dave, Dave!” exclaimed Johnny Liston, holding on to the mizzen-halliards still, and scrambling to his feet after the water flowed over him and the ship righted again, as he saw David torn away by the remorseless waters, and floating astern on the top of a great mountainous billow, his hands upheld as if imploring help.“Oh, Dave, Dave!” exclaimed Johnny Liston, apparently panic-stricken for an instant, adding, as he turned half round towards the captain, “Why, his leg is broken, and he can’t swim!”And then, without another moment’s hesitation, or a single reflection of the hopelessness of his task, or that he was endangering his own life as well, the brave boy, grasping hold of one of the life-buoys that hung close to the taffrail where he was supporting himself, as he watched the wave bearing Dave away, plunged into the sea to his comrade’s rescue.“Hold on, Dave, I’m coming!” he shouted out at the pitch of his voice, to encourage the sinking David.And the next minute, ere any one could prevent him, he was over the ship’s side, battling with the powers of the deep.
“Dave!”
“Hullo!”
“What’s that big black thing out there, tumbling about in the sea astern; is it a whale?”
“A whale, your grandmother!” sang out Davy Armstrong with a laugh, as he sprang on the taffrail, and holding on to the shrouds with one hand while he shaded his eyes with the other, peered about anxiously in the wake of the vessel in search of the object to which his attention had been drawn by his companion, a dark-haired lad who stood on the deck near him, and whose thin face and slender figure betrayed the delicate constitution of one brought up amidst the smoke and din of cities and busy haunts of men. David, on the contrary, was tall and well-built for his age, about sixteen, with blue eyes and curly brown hair, and the ruddy glow of health on his cheek; and being a middy of some two years’ standing on board theSea Rover, and full of fun and “larkishness,” to coin a term, assumed a slightly protective air towards Johnny Liston, the son of one of the cabin passengers, between whom and himself one of those stanch friendships common to boyhood had sprung up during the voyage to Australia. “A whale, your grandmother, Jonathan!” repeated Davy Armstrong in a bantering tone, with all—as his companion thought he could detect—the conscious superiority of a sucking sailor over a raw landsman, in his voice. “Why, you’ll be seeing the sea serpent soon if you look smart. Where is this wonderful thing you’ve discovered, Jonathan, my son? I’m blest if I can see it.”
It need hardly be mentioned that, close friends as they had become in a short time, Johnny Liston rather resented David’s patronage and implied superiority, and he hated his calling him “Jonathan,” or addressing him as “my son,” just as if he were as old as his father, instead of being just of an age, as he would indignantly remonstrate, which knowing, David mischievously made a point of so speaking to him on purpose to tease him, although in good part all the same.
“And you call yourself a sailor!” said Johnny Liston mockingly. “Why, there it is, as plain as a pikestaff, on the lift of that wave to the right there! Where are your eyes, stupid?”
“Why don’t you say on the port quarter, you lubber?” answered David good-humouredly; “then a fellow would know what you meant! Oh, I see. I think it’s a ship’s boat floating bottom upwards; but I’ll call the skipper’s attention to it, and he’ll soon tell us what it is. Johnny, my boy, you’ve got good eyesight, and deserve a leather medal for seeing that before I did, so I’ll let you have the credit of it.”
“Thanks, Dave,” said the other ironically. “I’m glad you can allow for once in a way that you are not infallible, and that somebody else can see as well as yourself.”
David meanwhile had crossed over the deck, to where the captain was conversing with a group of passengers, and having pointed out the object which his friend had discovered, a telescope being brought to bear soon proved it to be what his quick eye had already assured him it was, a boat pitching about bottom upwards, probably washed away from some Australian liner like themselves. There was no trace, however, to be seen of any one clinging to the keel, and time was too valuable and the wind too fair for the vessel to be put off her course merely to pick up an empty boat, which would most likely not be worth the trouble of hoisting on board; so they passed on, and it was soon hull-down in the distance.
TheSea Roverhad made all her southern latitude, descending to the thirty-sixth parallel. She had passed the Island of Tristan d’Acunha, although at some distance off, a few days before; and now as she was well below the region sacred to the stormy Cape, and had run down the trades, her course was set due east for Melbourne, from which she was yet some thousands of miles away. The wind was fair, almost dead astern, although the sea was high; and as the ship was rather light, she rocked and rolled considerably, the waves washing over her decks, and occasionally running over the poop in an avalanche of water, that swept right forward and made any one hold on that did not wish to be washed off their feet. The sea had a most winterly look. It appeared like a vast hilly country with winding valleys, all covered with sloshy snow just melted, the extreme tops of the waves looking like frozen peaks in between, with the snow as yet not melted. The air, too, was as cold as winter, for it blew from the Antarctic ice; and the gusts came more and more frequent as evening closed in, raising the sea still higher in towering mountains, that rushed after the ship, which was going from ten to twelve-knots an hour under all plain sail, as if they would overwhelm her, striking our sides every now and then heavy ponderous blows, that made; her stagger from her course and quiver right down to her keelson. One gust of wind came all at once with such startling force that it split the main-topsail up like a piece of tissue-paper, and then the captain thought it was about time to take in sail.
“I guess we’re going to have a rough spell of it, Jonathan,” said Davy, as he moved away from his companion in obedience to the skipper’s order, “All hands shorten sail!” and stationed himself at his post by the mizzen-halliards.
“Will it be serious, Dave?” asked the other, his pale face growing a little paler with apprehension.
“Pooh! no, nothing to speak of, only a squall, Jonathan; so don’t be frightened, my boy.”
A squall it was with a vengeance.
As the wind had been, right aft, the captain had kept theSea Roverunder her royals and topgallantsails, without even taking in a reef, in order to make the most of the twelve-knot breeze that was blowing: it was only at the chief officer’s request that a little time before he had been induced to take in the stunsails; and now the wind seemed to expand so suddenly into a gale, that it was as much as the seamen could do to get the canvas off her before she was struck with the squall, that came up astern at the rate of fifty miles an hour, covering the heavens to windward with great black storm-clouds, and flying wrack like white smoke that drifted before it, and seemed to herald the heavier metal that lay behind that would come into action soon.
Everything was let fly, and only just in time; for, without the slightest warning, the wind shifted and struck her on the starboard quarter, and the vessel was almost taken aback, with the waves slipping in over the bows and on the starboard and port sides as she rolled heavily, borne down into the trough of the sea by the force of the gale, her timbers groaning, the spars creaking, blocks rattling, and the wind shrieking and whistling as it tore through the rigging and flapped the sails heavily against the masts with the noise of thunder, as if it would wrench them out of the ship bodily.
It was a scene of the utmost confusion while it lasted, with the men running about the deck here and there and pulling and hauling at the halliards and braces, and the captain yelling out stentorian orders through his speaking-trumpet, which nobody apparently understood or attended to; and Davy Armstrong, who had been up aloft to superintend the furling of the mizzen, royal, and topgallantsails, and close reefing of the topsail, was just congratulating himself on getting down on deck alongside of Johnny Liston safe once more, when another squall struck the ship from the opposite quarter, and she heeled over on her side until she buried her topsail-yards in the billows, broadside on, as if she were going to “turn the turtle.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Johnny. “She’s going over!”
“Not a bit of it,” shouted out Dave in his ear, for the wind howled so that he could hardly make his voice heard. “She’ll right in a minute. But that was a stiff blow!”
“Ay, stiffer than the last.”
A heavy sea just at the same moment struck the rudder, which, through the ship’s lying over on her side, had been partly raised out of the water, and whirled round the wheel with such force that the man who was steering was lifted off his feet, and as he grasped the spokes with desperation, was dashed down on the deck with an awful impetus, which knocked him insensible. Dave, followed by Johnny, immediately rushed aft, and took the helmsman’s place, although it required all the strength of the two boys to hold on and save the ship from broaching-to, when her spars would have been swept off like ninepins, and a clean sweep made of her bulwarks, and everything on her decks fore and aft, if possible, she did not founder.
“Well done, my lads!” shouted out the captain. “Keep her to it,” as he ordered a couple of men aft to help them. “Keep her to it, my lads, you’ll be relieved in a jiffy. Hold on for the life of you, my lads; hold on!”
Their strength, however, was unequal to the struggle.
Another sea struck the rudder again almost in the same place, and David and Jonathan were floored in an instant.
Round span the wheel with mad velocity, now uncontrolled, jamming poor Davy’s leg between the rudder beam and the wheel post, while Johnny lay sprawling on the deck, holding on like grim death to a stray end of the mizzen-halliard that had been cast loose from the cleats. Another turn of the spokes of the wheel, as the rudder was banged to and fro by the billows, and Davy’s leg was released, although sadly crushed, and he was flung against the binnacle; and then a gigantic wave pooped the ship, coming in over the stern, and before the captain, or Johnny, or the men who were hurrying aft as rapidly as the motion of the ship would allow them, could stretch out a hand to save him, poor Davy was swept over the side to leeward, grasping tightly with the energy of despair, as he was carried away, a portion of the roof of the wheelhouse, which had been broken off by the same wave which washed him overboard, as well as part of the bulwarks.
“Oh, Dave, Dave!” exclaimed Johnny Liston, holding on to the mizzen-halliards still, and scrambling to his feet after the water flowed over him and the ship righted again, as he saw David torn away by the remorseless waters, and floating astern on the top of a great mountainous billow, his hands upheld as if imploring help.
“Oh, Dave, Dave!” exclaimed Johnny Liston, apparently panic-stricken for an instant, adding, as he turned half round towards the captain, “Why, his leg is broken, and he can’t swim!”
And then, without another moment’s hesitation, or a single reflection of the hopelessness of his task, or that he was endangering his own life as well, the brave boy, grasping hold of one of the life-buoys that hung close to the taffrail where he was supporting himself, as he watched the wave bearing Dave away, plunged into the sea to his comrade’s rescue.
“Hold on, Dave, I’m coming!” he shouted out at the pitch of his voice, to encourage the sinking David.
And the next minute, ere any one could prevent him, he was over the ship’s side, battling with the powers of the deep.
Story 3—Chapter II.Chapter Two.A Vain Quest.“Man overboard!”That cry, which those who have once heard it will never forget, echoed far and wide through the ship, making itself heard above the dull roar of the sea, the whistling of the wind as it tore through the rigging, the creaking of the timbers, and the trampling of feet up and down the deck, as the crew bustled to and fro, slackening a sheet here, tightening a brace there, and preparing for emergencies, ready for anything that might happen.“Man overboard!”And, in an instant, every heart palpitated with one thought, every ear was on the qui vive, every eye turned, intently watching the captain as he gave the necessary orders for bringing the ship up to the wind—as it was far too squally and risky work for her spars and top-hamper to wear her, before she could pay off on the other tack—and retrace her course in her own wake to pick up the two boys, who were now out of sight.“Stand by the lee braces, and be ready to slacken off on the weather-side! ’Bout ship! Up with the helm! Mainsail haul!” were some of the orders rapidly given and as rapidly attended to.With a will, the great main-yard swung round to starboard, theSea Roverpaying off handsomely. And, in another moment, under her reefed topsails and topgallantsails, with her courses dropped, and her yards sharply braced up, she was going back on her track at even greater speed than she had been previously travelling towards Australia, the wind having shifted to the southwards and eastwards after the last squall, and being now well on her beam, which was the clipper’s best sailing point.There was a lookout on the fore-topmast crosstrees; but almost every one was looking out in the direction where some trace of David and Jonathan might be discovered. And the minutes seemed lengthened into hours as they anxiously peered into the mass of slatey-brown water in front and around topped with yeasty foam. But the sky was overcast with storm-clouds and the darkening of approaching night, and their horizon was now limited so that they could not see very far in advance of theSea Rover’sbows—not more than a mile at most.Every voice was hushed on board the ship now, and only the humming of the wind and the swish of the water could be heard as she dived every now and then over her catheads into the waves, that fell in a cataract of spray on her forecastle and washed into her waist, while she dashed onward, gathering speed with every yard of progress that she made.“Lookout, ahoy, there!” shouted out the captain to the man on the fore crosstrees. “Do you see anything of them yet?”“Not a speck in sight,” was the answer; and still theSea Roverclove through the water on what they guessed to have been their former course, and the sky and the sea grew darker and darker and seemed to mingle together, gradually diminishing their area of vision.“We must have passed the spot by this time,” said the captain presently to the chief officer, when the ship had gone some two miles after coming about. “Send another lookout into the main-top; and you, Dawkins,” addressing one of the hands standing near, “sky up here in the mizzen-rigging and see if you can see anything. Look well round to leeward as well as ahead, for we may have overrun them.”“Ay, ay,” said the man as he scrambled up the shrouds, and quickly made his way, not merely into mizzen-top, but on the topgallant-yard, where he sat astride and scanned the horizon to his right and left, to windward and leeward of the vessel’s wake.“On deck there!” he hailed in a little time. He had the keenest sight of any man on board.“Ay, ay!” answered the captain. “Speak out!”“There is something to windward, two points on the weather-bow.”“How far?”“About half a mile or more, sir; but it may be less.”“We must get her a couple of points nearer the wind,” said the captain to the chief officer. “Clew up the courses, set the flying-jib, and let us get the mainsail on her, and see what she can do. Come, look smart and brace the yards round. Keep her helm up!” he added to the men at the wheel, lending them a hand as he spoke. “Hard!”TheSea Roverleaned over, gunwales under, and made deep bows to the sea, pitching the water over her fore-yard, as, her head being brought round a couple of points more, she sailed almost in the wind’s-eye, taking all that two men could do to steer her, besides the captain.“Aloft there!” shouted the captain once more to the lookout men. “How’s her head now? Does she bear towards the object, or is it still to windward?”“Steady!” was the answer. “She’s right for it now. Luff a bit, steady, it’s right ahead.”“What is it? Can you see them?” cried the captain, eagerly peering into the distance himself.“Looks like floating timber, sir. I can’t see anybody as yet; it seems all awash.”A moment further of breathless suspense, and then those on deck could see for themselves what had attracted the lookout man’s notice—a black object, bobbing up and down amidst the waves, one minute raised aloft on a billowy crest, the next hidden from view in a watery valley that descended, as it were, into the depths of the ocean.It was now clear to windward on the weather-bow; and, every now and then, distinctly visible.“Put the helm down, slack off the sheet!” cried the captain; and, as theSea Roverrounded-to, with the floating object under her lee, it could be seen that it was the boat which David and Jonathan had perceived passing them, bottom upwards, just before they were struck by the squall. The vessel, therefore, must have gone much further back on their track than they had imagined, for the boat must have been three or four miles astern of the point at which the boys were washed overboard. She would of course have drifted farther than the floating wreckage, being higher out of water, but could not have made up more than a mile of the intervening distance.It was a grievous disappointment to all on board, crew and passengers alike. They had made certain that it was the two boys clinging to the wreckage of the bulwarks and wheelhouse that had been carried away along with Davy; and the disappointment was all the greater because their hopes had been so cruelly raised.“My boy, my boy!” sobbed Mr Liston, who stood with several of the other cabin passengers grouped around the captain on the quarter-deck watching in breathless suspense. “My boy, my boy! He is lost, he’s lost! I shall never see him again!” and he wrung his hands in agony.Poor, bereaved father! He had only that moment been made aware that his son was overboard, having been below when the accident happened to Davy, and only attracted on deck by the commotion. Johnny was his only child, his mother having died in giving him birth, and he was the apple of his eye. He would have jumped into the sea, too, when, he learnt what had happened, if he had not been prevented; and his grief was frantic.“Cheer up, my dear sir!” said Captain Markham, as he gave orders for the ship to back across her course at right angles, and warned the lookout men aloft to renewed watchfulness. “We may pick them up yet. You know Davy Armstrong was holding on to something when he was carried away, and your gallant son took a life-buoy with him when he went to his rescue, so they can keep afloat till we overhaul them. Why, I was picked up myself once after I had been in the water for hours and the ship searching for me all the time, when I had been washed overboard like Davy.”The captain’s sanguine anticipations, however, even if he really believed in them, were baseless.TheSea Roverbacked, and wore, and tacked again, sailing, within a radius of a few miles, in every possible direction the wind would let her, without finding any traces of the lost ones, or even coming across the pieces of wreckage, which the sombre tint of the sea and sky prevented their seeing; and then night came on, and they had to abandon their quest, although they burnt blue lights and cruised about the same spot for hours afterwards, in vain!“Alas, dear captain, it is hopeless now!” exclaimed Mr Liston mournfully, with the resignation of despair, drawing away his gaze from the sea, and his head dropping on his breast in despondency.He was standing almost alone on the deck, the majority of the passengers having gone below—for the wind was cold and boisterous, and the crew having retired forward to the forecastle excepting those on duty aft—a tall, thin, pale man, whom the calamity seemed to have aged ten years in that brief space of time, and bowed with care.“Only a miracle could have saved them!” he said, as if speaking to himself; and then, turning to the captain, he added, “I suppose you must give them up now, and proceed with your voyage?”“Yes, it is useless waiting any longer,” said Captain Markham, sinking his voice in sympathy with the other. “Poor fellows, I’m afraid they’ve told the number of their mess long since! But if they are drowned, poor Davy was lost while doing his duty as a gallant sailor; and your son, my dear sir, lies in a hero’s grave beneath the wave, for he sacrificed his life in trying to save that of his friend. It is some slight consolation, Mr Liston, to recollect that; and I don’t think the recording angel above will have forgotten to log it down, either!”And, as the hardy sailor pointed upwards with a reverent air to where one tiny twinkling star was peeping out from amidst the mass of fleeting shadowy clouds that still obscured the heavens and shrouded the horizon from view, he wiped away a tear from his eye with the back of his hairy hand, bidding the quartermaster a moment or two afterwards, in a strangely gruff tone quite unlike his usual mode of speech, to set the ship’s course once more due east for Australia.And theSea Roverwent on her way.
“Man overboard!”
That cry, which those who have once heard it will never forget, echoed far and wide through the ship, making itself heard above the dull roar of the sea, the whistling of the wind as it tore through the rigging, the creaking of the timbers, and the trampling of feet up and down the deck, as the crew bustled to and fro, slackening a sheet here, tightening a brace there, and preparing for emergencies, ready for anything that might happen.
“Man overboard!”
And, in an instant, every heart palpitated with one thought, every ear was on the qui vive, every eye turned, intently watching the captain as he gave the necessary orders for bringing the ship up to the wind—as it was far too squally and risky work for her spars and top-hamper to wear her, before she could pay off on the other tack—and retrace her course in her own wake to pick up the two boys, who were now out of sight.
“Stand by the lee braces, and be ready to slacken off on the weather-side! ’Bout ship! Up with the helm! Mainsail haul!” were some of the orders rapidly given and as rapidly attended to.
With a will, the great main-yard swung round to starboard, theSea Roverpaying off handsomely. And, in another moment, under her reefed topsails and topgallantsails, with her courses dropped, and her yards sharply braced up, she was going back on her track at even greater speed than she had been previously travelling towards Australia, the wind having shifted to the southwards and eastwards after the last squall, and being now well on her beam, which was the clipper’s best sailing point.
There was a lookout on the fore-topmast crosstrees; but almost every one was looking out in the direction where some trace of David and Jonathan might be discovered. And the minutes seemed lengthened into hours as they anxiously peered into the mass of slatey-brown water in front and around topped with yeasty foam. But the sky was overcast with storm-clouds and the darkening of approaching night, and their horizon was now limited so that they could not see very far in advance of theSea Rover’sbows—not more than a mile at most.
Every voice was hushed on board the ship now, and only the humming of the wind and the swish of the water could be heard as she dived every now and then over her catheads into the waves, that fell in a cataract of spray on her forecastle and washed into her waist, while she dashed onward, gathering speed with every yard of progress that she made.
“Lookout, ahoy, there!” shouted out the captain to the man on the fore crosstrees. “Do you see anything of them yet?”
“Not a speck in sight,” was the answer; and still theSea Roverclove through the water on what they guessed to have been their former course, and the sky and the sea grew darker and darker and seemed to mingle together, gradually diminishing their area of vision.
“We must have passed the spot by this time,” said the captain presently to the chief officer, when the ship had gone some two miles after coming about. “Send another lookout into the main-top; and you, Dawkins,” addressing one of the hands standing near, “sky up here in the mizzen-rigging and see if you can see anything. Look well round to leeward as well as ahead, for we may have overrun them.”
“Ay, ay,” said the man as he scrambled up the shrouds, and quickly made his way, not merely into mizzen-top, but on the topgallant-yard, where he sat astride and scanned the horizon to his right and left, to windward and leeward of the vessel’s wake.
“On deck there!” he hailed in a little time. He had the keenest sight of any man on board.
“Ay, ay!” answered the captain. “Speak out!”
“There is something to windward, two points on the weather-bow.”
“How far?”
“About half a mile or more, sir; but it may be less.”
“We must get her a couple of points nearer the wind,” said the captain to the chief officer. “Clew up the courses, set the flying-jib, and let us get the mainsail on her, and see what she can do. Come, look smart and brace the yards round. Keep her helm up!” he added to the men at the wheel, lending them a hand as he spoke. “Hard!”
TheSea Roverleaned over, gunwales under, and made deep bows to the sea, pitching the water over her fore-yard, as, her head being brought round a couple of points more, she sailed almost in the wind’s-eye, taking all that two men could do to steer her, besides the captain.
“Aloft there!” shouted the captain once more to the lookout men. “How’s her head now? Does she bear towards the object, or is it still to windward?”
“Steady!” was the answer. “She’s right for it now. Luff a bit, steady, it’s right ahead.”
“What is it? Can you see them?” cried the captain, eagerly peering into the distance himself.
“Looks like floating timber, sir. I can’t see anybody as yet; it seems all awash.”
A moment further of breathless suspense, and then those on deck could see for themselves what had attracted the lookout man’s notice—a black object, bobbing up and down amidst the waves, one minute raised aloft on a billowy crest, the next hidden from view in a watery valley that descended, as it were, into the depths of the ocean.
It was now clear to windward on the weather-bow; and, every now and then, distinctly visible.
“Put the helm down, slack off the sheet!” cried the captain; and, as theSea Roverrounded-to, with the floating object under her lee, it could be seen that it was the boat which David and Jonathan had perceived passing them, bottom upwards, just before they were struck by the squall. The vessel, therefore, must have gone much further back on their track than they had imagined, for the boat must have been three or four miles astern of the point at which the boys were washed overboard. She would of course have drifted farther than the floating wreckage, being higher out of water, but could not have made up more than a mile of the intervening distance.
It was a grievous disappointment to all on board, crew and passengers alike. They had made certain that it was the two boys clinging to the wreckage of the bulwarks and wheelhouse that had been carried away along with Davy; and the disappointment was all the greater because their hopes had been so cruelly raised.
“My boy, my boy!” sobbed Mr Liston, who stood with several of the other cabin passengers grouped around the captain on the quarter-deck watching in breathless suspense. “My boy, my boy! He is lost, he’s lost! I shall never see him again!” and he wrung his hands in agony.
Poor, bereaved father! He had only that moment been made aware that his son was overboard, having been below when the accident happened to Davy, and only attracted on deck by the commotion. Johnny was his only child, his mother having died in giving him birth, and he was the apple of his eye. He would have jumped into the sea, too, when, he learnt what had happened, if he had not been prevented; and his grief was frantic.
“Cheer up, my dear sir!” said Captain Markham, as he gave orders for the ship to back across her course at right angles, and warned the lookout men aloft to renewed watchfulness. “We may pick them up yet. You know Davy Armstrong was holding on to something when he was carried away, and your gallant son took a life-buoy with him when he went to his rescue, so they can keep afloat till we overhaul them. Why, I was picked up myself once after I had been in the water for hours and the ship searching for me all the time, when I had been washed overboard like Davy.”
The captain’s sanguine anticipations, however, even if he really believed in them, were baseless.
TheSea Roverbacked, and wore, and tacked again, sailing, within a radius of a few miles, in every possible direction the wind would let her, without finding any traces of the lost ones, or even coming across the pieces of wreckage, which the sombre tint of the sea and sky prevented their seeing; and then night came on, and they had to abandon their quest, although they burnt blue lights and cruised about the same spot for hours afterwards, in vain!
“Alas, dear captain, it is hopeless now!” exclaimed Mr Liston mournfully, with the resignation of despair, drawing away his gaze from the sea, and his head dropping on his breast in despondency.
He was standing almost alone on the deck, the majority of the passengers having gone below—for the wind was cold and boisterous, and the crew having retired forward to the forecastle excepting those on duty aft—a tall, thin, pale man, whom the calamity seemed to have aged ten years in that brief space of time, and bowed with care.
“Only a miracle could have saved them!” he said, as if speaking to himself; and then, turning to the captain, he added, “I suppose you must give them up now, and proceed with your voyage?”
“Yes, it is useless waiting any longer,” said Captain Markham, sinking his voice in sympathy with the other. “Poor fellows, I’m afraid they’ve told the number of their mess long since! But if they are drowned, poor Davy was lost while doing his duty as a gallant sailor; and your son, my dear sir, lies in a hero’s grave beneath the wave, for he sacrificed his life in trying to save that of his friend. It is some slight consolation, Mr Liston, to recollect that; and I don’t think the recording angel above will have forgotten to log it down, either!”
And, as the hardy sailor pointed upwards with a reverent air to where one tiny twinkling star was peeping out from amidst the mass of fleeting shadowy clouds that still obscured the heavens and shrouded the horizon from view, he wiped away a tear from his eye with the back of his hairy hand, bidding the quartermaster a moment or two afterwards, in a strangely gruff tone quite unlike his usual mode of speech, to set the ship’s course once more due east for Australia.
And theSea Roverwent on her way.
Story 3—Chapter III.A Struggle for Life.Half-drowned by the avalanche of water which had swept him overboard, and just catching one faint glimpse of the hull of the ship through eyes that were blinded with the spray, as it swept away from him and left him struggling with the waves, although holding on still to the top of the wheelhouse which he had clutched in desperation as he was carried away, Davy thought he was dreaming when he heard the voice of his friend shouting out, as if in the distance, miles and miles away, “Hold on, Dave, I’m coming!”“Nonsense,” he reasoned with himself, amidst the pitiless lash of the billows, and the keenness of the wind that seemed to take the skin off his face and pierce through his wet clothing as he was one minute soused down into the water and then raised aloft again on his temporary raft exposed to the full force of the blast. “Nonsense! I’m drowning, I suppose, and this is one of those pleasant dreams which people say come to one at the last.”It was no dream, however.After a little while, although it seemed ages to David, the voice sounded nearer.“Hold on, Dave, old boy. I’m quite close to you now, and will reach you in a minute!”“I can’t be dreaming,” thought David again, getting a bit over the feeling of suffocation which had at first oppressed him. “Jonathan’s voice sounds too real for that, and I can see that I am adrift on the ocean, and resting on something. Oh, how my leg hurts me! I’ll give a hail, and see whether it is Jonathan’s voice or not that I hear. It must be him!”“Ahoy, help, ahoy!” he sang out as loudly as he could; but he was already weak, his voice came only in a faint whisper to Jonathan, who imagined he must be sinking and he would be too late.“Keep up, Dave, for goodness’ sake,” screamed out the latter in agony, making desperate exertions to reach him. “Don’t give way! Hold on a second longer and you’ll be safe!”Although he was such a slight, delicate-looking little fellow, hardly doing justice in his appearance to his sixteen years, if there was one accomplishment in which Johnny Liston was a proficient, it was swimming. Living in the neighbourhood of Kensington Gardens, he had made a habit of going into the Serpentine every morning during the summer months, and sticking at it as long as the weather permitted, although he did not go to the lengths of some intrepid bathers, and have the ice broken for him in winter; and by constant practice, and imitating the best swimmers amongst whom he bathed, he had learned so much that he could compete even with professionals for speed and endurance, and made the best amateur time on record for so young a lad.His practice now stood him in good stead; and he had, besides, an additional advantage, for having learned to swim in fresh water, and indeed never having essayed his powers in the sea, the unaccustomed buoyancy of the waves, which he now experienced for the first time, gave him a confidence and an ease which seemed surprising to him; he felt that he did not require the slightest exertion to keep afloat, even without the life-buoy, as he tested by letting go of it for a short time, and with it he was certain he could almost rival Captain Webb and swim for hours.Of course it was rough work for a novice, paddling in such broken water; but after a few strokes he got used to it, and, by dint of diving under the swelling bosom of some of the more threatening crests, and floating over the tops of the others whose ridges were yet perfect, he made his way pretty rapidly towards the spot where he had espied David floating off.The wind and the set of the sea were both against him, but the answering hail of the middy assured him he was proceeding in the right direction, and would be soon by his lost friend’s side.Another stroke or two, and as Johnny Liston rose on the crest of a huge mountain of water, which took him up almost to the sky, he saw below him the broken timbers of the bulwarks rolling about in the trough of the sea, and he thought they formed part of the wreckage on which David had been supporting himself, and that he had seen him on them.His heart sank within him like lead, for no one was floating on the broken bulwarks now. Poor Dave must have gone.Just at that moment, however, the middy’s faint hail rang again clearly out above the noise of the wind and the sea, to assure him he was still above the surface, and restore his drooping energies.“Ahoy! Help! Ahoy!”He did not require to hail again, for, the next moment overtopping another billow, his friend Jonathan shot up alongside of him, and grasped him by the shoulder.“Oh, Dave,” he exclaimed. “Thank God I’ve got you safe. I thought I would never have found you.”David had partly clambered up on the top of the wheelhouse, and lay stretched out with his legs in the water.He raised his head and turned his face as Jonathan got hold of him.His emotion was too great for many words.“And you jumped overboard to save me?” was all he said.But his look was enough.Johnny Liston had been swimming with one arm only thrust through the life-buoy, as he had been obliged to quit his hold of it each time he dived beneath the crest of a wave.He now took it off, holding on to the wheelhouse-top, which sank down into the water on one side under the double weight of the two lads, elevating the other end in the air.“Here, put this on, Dave,” he said. “I brought it for you, and a precious job I have had to reach you with it.”“But you, Jonathan—I beg your pardon, old chap, I didn’t mean to call you so. I know you don’t like it.”“Never mind, Dave. If you think of me as Jonathan you may as well call me so. I shan’t mind you doing so any longer I rather like it, old fellow, now, for our friendship will be like that of David and Jonathan that we read of in the Bible; you know it says that ‘the soul of Jonathan was knit unto the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.’ That’s just how I feel.”“What a chap you are to think of that now,” said David admiringly, “with both of us bobbing about in the middle of the ocean, and the ship out of sight. But I won’t have the life-buoy; what will you do without it?”“Bless you, I can swim like a fish, Dave, and it was more a nuisance to me than a help; but, we can both hold on to it, you know, if it comes to the worst. How’s your leg, Dave? I thought it was broken when you got it twisted in the wheel that time.”“Oh, it’s all right,” said David, kicking it out vigorously as he spoke. “The bone isn’t quite broken, but it’s very sore, and I suppose I’d have to lay up for it if I wasn’t here;” and he grinned ruefully.“Do you think the ship will pick us up?” said the other presently, losing some of his self-possession now that he had come up with David, and the motive for forgetting self and personal danger was wanting.He was naturally timid unless nerved up by necessity.“Oh, yes,” said David, whose spirits rose with the occasion, and who in the presence of his friend forgot all the peril. “Captain Markham won’t desert us, never fear; but you can’t pull up a ship like a horse, you know, Jonathan, and it will take some time for theSea Roverto tack about before she can fetch us. I wish, however, old chap, we had a little better raft than this to support us; the wheelhouse-top is hardly big enough for two, even with the buoy, which, though it can keep us afloat, won’t raise us out of the water as we want.”“Why, I passed some wreckage a few yards off before I reached you,” said his friend.“Did you?” said David. “That must have been the gangway and part of the bulwarks that came away with me. I wish we had the lot here.”“Do you?” said Jonathan, as we must now call him, “then I’ll soon fetch them,” striking out as he spoke.“Take care,” said David; “and pray take the buoy with you.”But, the sea saved Jonathan the trouble of leaving his friend, for the very pieces of timber of which he had spoken made their appearance at that moment, floating down towards them from the summit of a wave, in whose valley they were; and Jonathan swam beyond them and pushed them before him till they were alongside the wheelhouse-top.There was plenty of material to form a substantial raft with the addition of what they already had; and as Jonathan drew up the heavy mass alongside, David gave a shout of joy.“Why,” he exclaimed, “here is the cleat of the signal halliards come away with a piece of the taffrail, and we’ll have enough rope to form all the lashings we want. Isn’t that lucky?”The young middy was handy enough in sailors’ ways through his two years’ experience of the sea; and—Jonathan aiding him under his direction—in a short time the loose timbers were lashed firmly together as a framework, with the roof of the wheelhouse fastened on the top, forming altogether a substantial platform, on which the two boys found themselves elevated a clear foot or more out of the water, and free from the cold wash of the waves, which was beginning to turn them blue.“There,” exclaimed David, “now we’re comfortable, and can wait in patience till the ship overhauls us; she can’t be long now.”Watching with eager eyes they saw theSea Rovercoming towards them, after a long, long while, as it seemed to them; but ere she had reached them, in spite of their shouts and hand-wavings, which they fancied must have been seen and heard on board, she went round on the other tack, and disappeared from their view, to their bitter disappointment and grief.It was David now who was hopeful still. Jonathan seemed to have lost all that courage which had inspired him to leap into the sea to his friend’s rescue, and was trembling with fear and hopeless despair.The next time theSea Rovercame in sight, she was further off, and appeared to be sailing away from them, although they could see her tack about in the distance several times, as if searching for them still.Then it gradually got darker, and night came on, enveloping them in a curtain of hazy mist that seemed to rest on the water, through which they could see far off the blue lights that were burnt on board the ship to show their whereabouts, although they were useless to them, as they could not reach her.Even David began to lose hope now, but he still encouraged his companion.“They’ll not desert us, old fellow,” he said, with a heartiness which he by no means felt. “The captain will lie-to, and will pick us up in the morning.”Jonathan was not attending to his words, however. He was shivering and shaking as if he had the ague, and David could hear his teeth chatter together with the cold, although the wind had gone down somewhat, and the sea no longer broke over them.It was so dark that the two lads could scarcely see each other as they lay on top of the frail structure that separated them from the deep, clasping each other’s hands.Presently, in the fitful phosphorescent light of the water, some dark object seemed to float up alongside; and Jonathan gave vent to a scream of horror, that rang through the silence of the night.“Oh, what is that?” he exclaimed.And if David had not clutched him, he would have plunged headlong from the raft into the sea in his fright and agonised terror.
Half-drowned by the avalanche of water which had swept him overboard, and just catching one faint glimpse of the hull of the ship through eyes that were blinded with the spray, as it swept away from him and left him struggling with the waves, although holding on still to the top of the wheelhouse which he had clutched in desperation as he was carried away, Davy thought he was dreaming when he heard the voice of his friend shouting out, as if in the distance, miles and miles away, “Hold on, Dave, I’m coming!”
“Nonsense,” he reasoned with himself, amidst the pitiless lash of the billows, and the keenness of the wind that seemed to take the skin off his face and pierce through his wet clothing as he was one minute soused down into the water and then raised aloft again on his temporary raft exposed to the full force of the blast. “Nonsense! I’m drowning, I suppose, and this is one of those pleasant dreams which people say come to one at the last.”
It was no dream, however.
After a little while, although it seemed ages to David, the voice sounded nearer.
“Hold on, Dave, old boy. I’m quite close to you now, and will reach you in a minute!”
“I can’t be dreaming,” thought David again, getting a bit over the feeling of suffocation which had at first oppressed him. “Jonathan’s voice sounds too real for that, and I can see that I am adrift on the ocean, and resting on something. Oh, how my leg hurts me! I’ll give a hail, and see whether it is Jonathan’s voice or not that I hear. It must be him!”
“Ahoy, help, ahoy!” he sang out as loudly as he could; but he was already weak, his voice came only in a faint whisper to Jonathan, who imagined he must be sinking and he would be too late.
“Keep up, Dave, for goodness’ sake,” screamed out the latter in agony, making desperate exertions to reach him. “Don’t give way! Hold on a second longer and you’ll be safe!”
Although he was such a slight, delicate-looking little fellow, hardly doing justice in his appearance to his sixteen years, if there was one accomplishment in which Johnny Liston was a proficient, it was swimming. Living in the neighbourhood of Kensington Gardens, he had made a habit of going into the Serpentine every morning during the summer months, and sticking at it as long as the weather permitted, although he did not go to the lengths of some intrepid bathers, and have the ice broken for him in winter; and by constant practice, and imitating the best swimmers amongst whom he bathed, he had learned so much that he could compete even with professionals for speed and endurance, and made the best amateur time on record for so young a lad.
His practice now stood him in good stead; and he had, besides, an additional advantage, for having learned to swim in fresh water, and indeed never having essayed his powers in the sea, the unaccustomed buoyancy of the waves, which he now experienced for the first time, gave him a confidence and an ease which seemed surprising to him; he felt that he did not require the slightest exertion to keep afloat, even without the life-buoy, as he tested by letting go of it for a short time, and with it he was certain he could almost rival Captain Webb and swim for hours.
Of course it was rough work for a novice, paddling in such broken water; but after a few strokes he got used to it, and, by dint of diving under the swelling bosom of some of the more threatening crests, and floating over the tops of the others whose ridges were yet perfect, he made his way pretty rapidly towards the spot where he had espied David floating off.
The wind and the set of the sea were both against him, but the answering hail of the middy assured him he was proceeding in the right direction, and would be soon by his lost friend’s side.
Another stroke or two, and as Johnny Liston rose on the crest of a huge mountain of water, which took him up almost to the sky, he saw below him the broken timbers of the bulwarks rolling about in the trough of the sea, and he thought they formed part of the wreckage on which David had been supporting himself, and that he had seen him on them.
His heart sank within him like lead, for no one was floating on the broken bulwarks now. Poor Dave must have gone.
Just at that moment, however, the middy’s faint hail rang again clearly out above the noise of the wind and the sea, to assure him he was still above the surface, and restore his drooping energies.
“Ahoy! Help! Ahoy!”
He did not require to hail again, for, the next moment overtopping another billow, his friend Jonathan shot up alongside of him, and grasped him by the shoulder.
“Oh, Dave,” he exclaimed. “Thank God I’ve got you safe. I thought I would never have found you.”
David had partly clambered up on the top of the wheelhouse, and lay stretched out with his legs in the water.
He raised his head and turned his face as Jonathan got hold of him.
His emotion was too great for many words.
“And you jumped overboard to save me?” was all he said.
But his look was enough.
Johnny Liston had been swimming with one arm only thrust through the life-buoy, as he had been obliged to quit his hold of it each time he dived beneath the crest of a wave.
He now took it off, holding on to the wheelhouse-top, which sank down into the water on one side under the double weight of the two lads, elevating the other end in the air.
“Here, put this on, Dave,” he said. “I brought it for you, and a precious job I have had to reach you with it.”
“But you, Jonathan—I beg your pardon, old chap, I didn’t mean to call you so. I know you don’t like it.”
“Never mind, Dave. If you think of me as Jonathan you may as well call me so. I shan’t mind you doing so any longer I rather like it, old fellow, now, for our friendship will be like that of David and Jonathan that we read of in the Bible; you know it says that ‘the soul of Jonathan was knit unto the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.’ That’s just how I feel.”
“What a chap you are to think of that now,” said David admiringly, “with both of us bobbing about in the middle of the ocean, and the ship out of sight. But I won’t have the life-buoy; what will you do without it?”
“Bless you, I can swim like a fish, Dave, and it was more a nuisance to me than a help; but, we can both hold on to it, you know, if it comes to the worst. How’s your leg, Dave? I thought it was broken when you got it twisted in the wheel that time.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” said David, kicking it out vigorously as he spoke. “The bone isn’t quite broken, but it’s very sore, and I suppose I’d have to lay up for it if I wasn’t here;” and he grinned ruefully.
“Do you think the ship will pick us up?” said the other presently, losing some of his self-possession now that he had come up with David, and the motive for forgetting self and personal danger was wanting.
He was naturally timid unless nerved up by necessity.
“Oh, yes,” said David, whose spirits rose with the occasion, and who in the presence of his friend forgot all the peril. “Captain Markham won’t desert us, never fear; but you can’t pull up a ship like a horse, you know, Jonathan, and it will take some time for theSea Roverto tack about before she can fetch us. I wish, however, old chap, we had a little better raft than this to support us; the wheelhouse-top is hardly big enough for two, even with the buoy, which, though it can keep us afloat, won’t raise us out of the water as we want.”
“Why, I passed some wreckage a few yards off before I reached you,” said his friend.
“Did you?” said David. “That must have been the gangway and part of the bulwarks that came away with me. I wish we had the lot here.”
“Do you?” said Jonathan, as we must now call him, “then I’ll soon fetch them,” striking out as he spoke.
“Take care,” said David; “and pray take the buoy with you.”
But, the sea saved Jonathan the trouble of leaving his friend, for the very pieces of timber of which he had spoken made their appearance at that moment, floating down towards them from the summit of a wave, in whose valley they were; and Jonathan swam beyond them and pushed them before him till they were alongside the wheelhouse-top.
There was plenty of material to form a substantial raft with the addition of what they already had; and as Jonathan drew up the heavy mass alongside, David gave a shout of joy.
“Why,” he exclaimed, “here is the cleat of the signal halliards come away with a piece of the taffrail, and we’ll have enough rope to form all the lashings we want. Isn’t that lucky?”
The young middy was handy enough in sailors’ ways through his two years’ experience of the sea; and—Jonathan aiding him under his direction—in a short time the loose timbers were lashed firmly together as a framework, with the roof of the wheelhouse fastened on the top, forming altogether a substantial platform, on which the two boys found themselves elevated a clear foot or more out of the water, and free from the cold wash of the waves, which was beginning to turn them blue.
“There,” exclaimed David, “now we’re comfortable, and can wait in patience till the ship overhauls us; she can’t be long now.”
Watching with eager eyes they saw theSea Rovercoming towards them, after a long, long while, as it seemed to them; but ere she had reached them, in spite of their shouts and hand-wavings, which they fancied must have been seen and heard on board, she went round on the other tack, and disappeared from their view, to their bitter disappointment and grief.
It was David now who was hopeful still. Jonathan seemed to have lost all that courage which had inspired him to leap into the sea to his friend’s rescue, and was trembling with fear and hopeless despair.
The next time theSea Rovercame in sight, she was further off, and appeared to be sailing away from them, although they could see her tack about in the distance several times, as if searching for them still.
Then it gradually got darker, and night came on, enveloping them in a curtain of hazy mist that seemed to rest on the water, through which they could see far off the blue lights that were burnt on board the ship to show their whereabouts, although they were useless to them, as they could not reach her.
Even David began to lose hope now, but he still encouraged his companion.
“They’ll not desert us, old fellow,” he said, with a heartiness which he by no means felt. “The captain will lie-to, and will pick us up in the morning.”
Jonathan was not attending to his words, however. He was shivering and shaking as if he had the ague, and David could hear his teeth chatter together with the cold, although the wind had gone down somewhat, and the sea no longer broke over them.
It was so dark that the two lads could scarcely see each other as they lay on top of the frail structure that separated them from the deep, clasping each other’s hands.
Presently, in the fitful phosphorescent light of the water, some dark object seemed to float up alongside; and Jonathan gave vent to a scream of horror, that rang through the silence of the night.
“Oh, what is that?” he exclaimed.
And if David had not clutched him, he would have plunged headlong from the raft into the sea in his fright and agonised terror.