THE next few days were spent in making preliminary plans and preparations for our voyage in search of the "San Philipo" treasure. As I have already stated, the pater had fixed upon most of the details, and he now confided to us the nature of his programme.
Briefly, he proposed to purchase a yacht of sufficient tonnage to make the adventurous passage, yet as small as was compatible with comfort and safety. Seventy tons was the approximate displacement of the vessel he required, and, taking as an example Captain Voss's voyage round the world in the dug-out canoe "Tilikum," Slocum's single-handed cruises across the Atlantic in the comparatively diminutive "Spray," and the instance of a Falmouth quay punt of but thirty feet in length, with a crew of about five hands, making a successful voyage to South Australia, this tonnage should provide an ample margin of safety.
When a suitable vessel had been acquired he proposed to man her with a strong crew, lay in a good supply of stores and salvage gear, and shape a course for the Pacific via the Suez Canal, Indian Ocean, and the Malacca Straits, preferring to take the longer route than to risk the nerve-racking ordeal of a beat round Cape Horn.
Financially we had nothing to fear, for the amount of hard cash received under the terms of Ross Trevena's will would amply cover the expenses of the expedition, and, as the pater remarked with true Cornish philosophy, "as he had never had the making of it he would never miss the spending." In addition, the sudden activity of the Cornish mining industry, had resulted in some shares that my father had in the "Wheal Treganna," and which we had long regarded as a bad investment, rising rapidly considerably, above par, and, by promptly selling out, there was a substantial credit in the family exchequer, so that from a pecuniary point of view our position was a decided improvement to what it had been before Uncle Herbert's hurried trip to Pernambuco.
As a matter of fact, there was no necessity to make this expedition to the far-off Pacific, but so intent was my father on seeing the whole business through (as were my uncle and I), that not for one moment did he swerve from his purpose. "If we find the treasure, as I confidently expect to do, well and good; if we do not, well, at the very least it is a holiday at my uncle Ross Trevena's expense."
With the object of purchasing a suitable craft, a sharp eye was kept on the advertisements in the yachting press, till one day the following announcement caused the pater to make a sudden rush for a railway time-table——
FOR SALE, by order of the executors: The modern 70-ton auxiliary yacht "Fortuna," built 1904 to Lloyd's highest class. Ketch-rigged. Ideal ocean cruiser, fully found, and in perfect condition. Low price to immediate purchaser. Mitcham motor new this year.—Apply Roach & Co., sole agents, Hamble, near Southampton.
"Herbert, old boy," he exclaimed excitedly, "that's just the craft I'm looking for; ketch-rigged—the ideal sail-plan for rough work; 'Mitcham' motor, therefore no risk of being becalmed in the Tropics for weeks at a stretch. When's the next train to Southampton? We'll start at once."
"But why not write for particulars first?" asked my uncle, who, though impetuous, certainly possessed a certain amount of caution.
"And have the yacht snapped up under our very noses? No, no. A well-known firm like Roach & Co. would not deal in rubbish nor act as agents for any craft unless she were exactly as represented. Look sharp and get together what gear you require; and you too, Reggie. Ha, ha! I can already see myself on the deck of the 'Fortuna.'"
"But how about leaving young Johnston?"
"He's able to look after himself now."
"Aren't you afraid he'll clear the place out and make off?"
"Herbert, I don't think I am mistaken. That young fellow could be trusted anywhere. It was his misfortune, not his fault, that first led him into trouble. So I'll trust him, and I'll stake my all that my confidence will not be misplaced."
As the result of my parent's hurried preparations, in less than an hour we were steaming out of Fowey Station in a train which was due at Plymouth in time to catch the 12.18 to Salisbury, a telegram having been dispatched to apprise Roach of our visit.
Throughout the long journey my father, who, much to my surprise, had taken single tickets, was like the proverbial cat on hot bricks. His ill-concealed impatience reminded me forcibly of a child being taken to a toy-shop to purchase a new toy. Uncle Herbert, although also excited, managed to content himself with a couple of newspapers and some weekly journals, though I observed him surreptitiously signing the insurance coupons in the latter. For my part, I was deeply interested in the ever-changing landscape, as the red earth and vivid green foliage of Devon gave place to the dazzling chalk and duller verdure of Dorset and Wilts, till, with remarkable swiftness, the four hours passed and we glided into Salisbury station, from which I had my first glimpse of the slender, needle-like spire of the cathedral.
We made a hasty change of carriages, and, notwithstanding my parent's muttered objurgations on the slowness of the train, it literally crawled into Southampton, where on our arrival I ventured to remind him that we had had nothing to eat since eight that morning—a fact that he, in his excitement, had completely overlooked.
"Grin and bear it, Reggie," he replied. "If we stop here for tea we shall miss the next train to Bursledon. Once there you can eat as much as you like."
It was nearly six when the train drew up at Bursledon, one of the most delightfully situated stations it is possible to imagine. It is perched on the side of a steep hill, with the placid waters of the Hamble River washing the foot of the well-wooded declivity. Notwithstanding the gentle summer's breeze that was swaying the treetops, not a ripple disturbed the surface of the stream, except when an occasional dinghy put off to one or other of the numerous small yachts that swung easily at their moorings. "You ought to have alighted at Netley," remarked the station-master, in reply to an inquiry as to the best means of reaching Hamble village. "But you may possibly get a conveyance, or a boatman down there will row you down-stream."
"Excuse me, sir," exclaimed a tall, bronzed, and bearded individual, rigged out in a tanned jersey, white boating hat, and flannel trousers tucked into a pair of sea-boots, the whole costume liberally bespattered with river mud. "I overheard you say that you wanted to get down to Hamble. My motor-launch is going there in half an hour's time, should you care to take a passage in her."
The pater assented. "It will give us time to get tea," he added. "Where shall we pick up your boat?"
"On the quay by that cottage you can see down there," he replied, pointing to a prettily situated, creeper-covered house close to the water's edge. "We start at seven."
And, touching his hat, the mud-stained individual strolled away with the peculiar slouching gait affected by most seafaring men. "What ought we to give him for the passage down?" asked my father of the station-master, after the motor-boat person had taken his departure. The official smiled in a very amused fashion.
"I don't think I would offer him anything, if I were you," he replied. "He is the Hon. George Pycrust, owner of the steam-yacht 'Chimborazo,' member of the Motor-Yacht Club, and I don't know what else besides. There's no room for snobs on this river, and yachtmen do each other a good turn whenever they have a chance."
We were directed to a little inn on the hill above the railway-station, and here in a few minutes we were enjoying a substantial tea, including a determined attack upon a freshly boiled Warsash crab, a delicacy for which the district is famous, although the flavour is distinctly different from that of the shell-fish caught on our part of the coast.
Punctually at seven o'clock we arrived at the private quay where the Hon. George's motor-launch was waiting, and with the faintest tremor her powerful engine was started and we sped rapidly down the river, my father keeping up an animated conversation with the mud-stained scion of a noble house on the ever-ready subject of yachting.
Quickly the lead-coloured hulks of the obsolete gunboats were left astern, and the three-masted training ship "Mercury" passed, and we came in sight of the red-tiled roofs of Hamble village, fringed with a forest of yachts' masts and backed by a dense mass of trees.
"I'll land you at Roach's private steps," observed our kindly benefactor. "There will be just time to see the 'Fortuna' before dusk. She's a perfect beauty. I came across from Cherbourg in her in a regular sou'-easter, and a better sea boat you could not possibly imagine. If you decide to have her, and keep her in this station, I shall doubtless come across you at times. Here we are. Out fenders and stand by with the boathook," he added, addressing the launch's boy. With scarcely a jar the boat ran alongside the floating landing-stage, and, taking a hearty adieu of the kindly owner, we stepped ashore.
From the pontoon a narrow plank gangway brought us to another broader pier-like structure that ran parallel to the shore over a stretch of soft mud. Here, packed like sardines in a box, were rows of yachts of all sizes and rigs, lying snugly in their mid-berths.
"Ah! Here is Roach, I believe," exclaimed my father, as an alert-looking personage in a yachtsman's uniform came hurrying along the gangway to meet us.
"My name's Trevena. I wired you this morning about the 'Fortuna.' You are Mr. Roach, I presume?"
"The same. We hardly expected so prompt a reply to the advertisement, especially in the shape of a personal call, although we have had several inquiries by letter," replied the yacht-builder, indicating a bundle of communications in his hand. "There is the 'Fortuna'—the fourth yacht in the tier. Would you care to see her now?"
"At once, if you've no objection," replied my father.
"None whatever; everything is open to inspection. I will accompany you, if you like, although most purchasers prefer to make an absolutely private inspection without being influenced by any one interested in the sale."
"Just so. Then we will go alone. Where shall we see you again?"
"I am to be found in that house-boat," he replied, pointing to a large dismasted yacht which had been converted into a floating dwelling.
"Did you ever see such a fine-looking craft?" exclaimed my parent enthusiastically. "Look at her bow—what a fine entry! And what a clean run aft! Get aboard, both of you, as fast as you can." And, scrambling up a narrow swaying plank, we stood on the deck of the yacht "Fortuna."
A flush deck, broken only by a skylight and companion, with fairly high bulwarks fitted with ample scuppers, showed there need be little fear of seas breaking inboard.
For'ard a small booby hatch and a compact yet powerful winch alone encumbered the fo'c'sle deck, while on either side amidships were davits for carrying a gig and a whaler.
A quick yet comprehensive survey of the deck satisfied the pater; then, diving down the companion, with us following closely on his heels, he began a tour of the cabins.
On either side of the companion was a little cabin, comfortable-looking in spite of being dismantled, the one on the starboard side being the owner's, that to the port apparently for the use of a guest.
Both of these opened out of the main saloon, which, with its mahogany swing-table, sideboards, bookcases, and sofa-berths, seemed quite a large apartment compared with the cabin on board our cutter "Spray." This cabin was lighted by the skylight on deck, and at night by a large swinging lamp, judging by the fittings on the deck-beams.
For'ard of the saloon were two small staterooms, separated by a narrow alleyway which gave access to the pantry, captain's cabin, and the fo'c'sle. The latter had accommodation for five men, the iron framework of the folding cots being still in position.
"Plenty of room for a fairly large crew, with slight alterations," remarked my father. "We can easily throw the skipper's cabin and the two staterooms into the fo'c'sle, and make a solid bulkhead across just abaft the pantry."
"Yes, a dozen hands would be comfortably stowed away in that case," replied my uncle. "I suppose you have already made up your mind about her?"
"Nearly."
"Remember the proverb about buying a pig in a poke."
"Also the adage 'Never leave till to-morrow what you can do to-day,'" replied my father, laughing. "Here, give a hand with this trap-hatch, and let's see what she is like."
Underneath the floors the lead ballast had been removed to store, and the timbers and frames carefully cleaned and tarred, so that, as my uncle expressed it, "she was as sweet as new-mown hay." There was no doubt that she had been well looked after. However, the daylight was rapidly fading, so we were forced to bring our investigations to a close, after a hasty inspection of the ladies' cabin abaft the companion.
"Does the 'Fortuna' come up to your expectations?" inquired the yacht-builder when we rejoined him.
"As far as I can judge," replied my father. "Have you an inventory?"
"Here it is, complete in every detail; and you are perfectly at liberty to call in an independent surveyor whenever you like."
"I don't think there is any necessity for that," replied my father. "When could she be ready for sea?"
"We can get her off these next tides—say, the day after to-morrow—and everything could be placed aboard by Thursday night."
"And the price?"
"Seven hundred and fifty pounds; including fitting out."
"Very well, then. We will regard the transaction as completed; allow me to have the use of your office while I write out a cheque."
I doubt whether a yacht had ever before been sold in such a record time; but such was the ease, and before leaving the shipyard we were in possession of the yacht's papers, Mr. Roach having reiterated his promise to have the "Fortuna" ready for sea in four days' time.
I understood now why the pater had taken single tickets; he had set his heart on the "Fortuna" directly he saw the announcement, and had meant to bring her back to Fowey.
The four days, in, spite of the long hours (for we were up from sunrise to sunset), passed very quickly, and, true to his word, Roach had the yacht afloat, her spars varnished and sails bent, the motor reinstalled, and all gear and stores on board within the specified time. No doubt we should have been quite capable of working her home without assistance, but, acting on Uncle Herbert's advice, we engaged a couple of hand's to be on the safe side in case of heavy weather.
Just before ten on the Thursday night the "Fortuna" slipped her moorings and made for the mouth of the river. It was a clear moonlight night, with the faintest suspicion of a breeze from the nor'-east, so the motor was brought into use, and with a gentle purring the powerful little engine urged the yacht through the calm waters of the land-locked estuary.
I remained on deck as we glided down the Solent, with its host of moving lights. We were soon rolling slightly in the tidal race of the Needles Channel. Once clear of the land, we caught the following breeze, and gallantly the ketch responded to the steadily drawing sails.
"Here we are, in the open Channel once more, Reggie," exclaimed my father, who had just relinquished his "trick at the helm" to one of the men. "Hurst Castle light away on our port quarter, the Needles light bears directly astern, and yonder in the distance you can see the flash of St. Catherine's, one of the most powerful lights in the world. See that flash ahead on the starboard bow? That's Anvil Point, on the Dorset coast, so that, provided the weather is clear, navigation on this part of the coast is as safe as can possibly be imagined. We'll have supper now, and then we'll turn in, for it's nearly one o'clock. By the time you are awake I hope we shall be well across West Bay."
So saying, my father took me below, where supper was served in the main saloon. Uncle Herbert had just finished his, and was struggling into his great-coat prior to taking his watch on deck. It was the first time I had seen the cabin by artificial light, and in the swinging rays of the hanging lamp it looked a picture of comfort; the red cushions on the sofa bunks, the thick Turkey carpet on the floor, the curtains across the doors and skylights, and the well-laid swing-table, all combined to make the saloon look a veritable floating home.
"What do you think of it, eh?" asked my father, reading the interested look in my face. "A slight improvement on the 'Spray,' I take it? Well, sit down and make yourself comfortable, for the 'Fortuna's' to be your home for the next eighteen months, I reckon."
Supper over, I turned in on a bunk in the cabin opposite to my father's, which was to be my own, and, lulled by the rhythmical purr of the motor and the gentle undulations of the vessel, I soon fell into a dreamless sleep.
When I awoke it was broad daylight. The yacht was pitching considerably, so that dressing was accomplished under difficulties. Upon going on deck I found my father had already forestalled me, and the meagre crew were engaged in stowing the mizzen, as, owing to the freshening wind, which was coming right aft, it was the canvas which could be most profitably stowed.
It was a grey, misty morning, the sun barely showing through the fleecy clouds overhead. We had just cleared the tail of Portland Race, the, "Bill" showing clearly over our starboard quarter, and the cliffs of West Bay fading away in the haze on our starboard hand. About a mile way to port a large liner was tearing up Channel, and, with a couple of topsail schooners, were the only vessels to be seen.
The compass showed a bearing of S. 84° W., which, allowing for the slight indraught, would bring the yacht close to the Start, although that headland, forty-five miles distant, was, of course, invisible.
"Had a good night, Reggie?" asked my father.
"Splendid!"
"Then you had better go for'ard and get breakfast ready," he replied with a merry laugh. "With so small a crew there can be no idlers, so you must act as steward. But wait till we ship a proper crew, and I'll warrant we'll be as comfortable as at home."
"I notice the motor isn't running."
"No, it would be almost useless in a strong breeze like this; but in a calm it is indispensable. Now cut along and get breakfast; we are all famishing."
I did as I was bid, and the three of us had quite a respectable meal in the saloon, the two hands being left on deck with instructions as to how the yacht's head was to be kept.
After breakfast I went on deck, leaving my father and uncle to overhaul the numerous lockers to become acquainted with their stowage capacity, and to consider the necessity of increasing the space intended for the crew.
About eight o'clock we passed close to a fleet of Brixham trawlers, their rich-coloured tanned sails making a picturesque sight as they beat out towards the trawling grounds. Soon afterwards we sighted the bold headland of Start Point, and with the aid of glass the white lighthouse could be discerned. All this time the "Fortuna" was tearing through the blue water, without the necessity of touching a single sheet or runner, and, provided the wind held, there was a possibility of reaching Fowey before nightfall.
At 1 p.m. the Start was abeam, and here began one of the most interesting stretches of coast that is to be found around the British Isles, and for hours I watched the ever-changing panorama, plying both my father and uncle with numerous questions, and gaining quite a wealth of information about the many noted shipwrecks that have taken place betwixt the Start and the entrance to Plymouth Sound.
We weathered the frowning Bolt Tail just within two hours after leaving the Start, and soon the well-known needle-like shaft of the Eddystone showed up on the sky-line on our port bow.
"Nearly home!" exclaimed Uncle Herbert, indicating the dim outlines of Rame Head. "It's a rattling good passage."
"It will be a bit of a surprise for the fellows at the yacht Club to see the 'Fortuna,' with the club burgee and my house flag flying, bring up in Polruan Pool."
"I think it will be a bigger surprise when she comes back to Fowey with a few tons of silver from the 'San Philipo' lying on her ballast," replied my uncle enthusiastically.
"I hope so," said my father. "Another fortnight will see us under way for Southern seas."
Unfortunately for my father's anticipation, however, the wind fell light, and it was dark before we picked up the friendly gleam of St. Catherine's; and just as the parish church clock was striking midnight the "Fortuna's" anchor fell with a splash and a rattle of chain to the bottom of Fowey Harbour.
WE lost no time in preparing the "Fortuna" for her long voyage, for the morning after her arrival at Fowey my father sent for Clemens, the boat-builder, and instructed him to build a sound-proof bulkhead right across the vessel just abaft the two for'ard state-rooms. These two cabins were then thrown into the fo'c'sle, thus providing six additional bunks; while, to meet the requirements of the increased number of the crew, two large fresh-water tanks were placed below the fo'c'sle floor, and connected with the deck by means of a small pump.
In the meantime my uncle had paid a hurried visit to the Midlands, with the result that five heavy packing-cases arrived at our house. The first contained a three-pounder Q.F. gun, with a light mounting, the second a Maxim with both deck and field mountings, two others contained cases of quick-firing and small-arm ammunition, and the last a number of Lee-Enfield rifles, complete with bayonets, save one, a light sporting rifle. "This is a present for you, Reggie," said my father, placing the latter in my hands. "It is a thoroughly good weapon, and I hope you will appreciate and take great care of it. And, remember, a true sportsman never takes life heedlessly."
"But, pater," I exclaimed, "why do we want such a formidable armoury? Sporting guns I can understand the necessity of; but these are for fighting purposes."
"For defensive purposes," corrected my father. "You remember Findlay's description of the islands in the Pacific where the 'San Philipo's' treasure lies—treacherous and bloodthirsty natives —though, of course, it does not necessarily follow that the arms will be required. We hope and pray they may not be. But forewarned is forearmed, and the moral persuasion of these weapons may have a salutary effect upon any treacherously inclined natives we may. happen to meet."
"But I thought the missionaries had tamed the savage instincts of these natives."
"Without wishing to disparage the splendid work done by the missionaries, Reggie, I can safely assert that on hundreds of these islands cannibalism and the savage rites of heathen worship are as rampant as they were two hundred years ago. It seems remarkable to hear the ideas some people have about foreign parts. Some imagine the Pacific to be a veritable paradise of converted natives clad in gowns of Manchester cotton prints; while, on the other hand, I heard of the case of a youngster going to South Africa to Port Elizabeth, in fact—who took with him a revolver to shoot roaming Kaffirs! To change the subject, would you mind going over to Fowey and getting theRecord? I've sent an advertisement, and want to make sure that it's in."
In less than an hour I returned with the paper, and this is a copy of my father's announcement—
WANTED.—Twelve ex-naval men to form the crew of an auxiliary yacht about to make a trip round the world. Twelve months' engagement. Must be single men of exemplary character.—Apply by letter, giving full particulars of rating, etc., to Box 1245, office of this paper.
"That's satisfactory," said the pater. "We'll run up to Plymouth to-morrow and call at theNaval and Military Recordoffices, and get the letters."
"So soon?"
"Aye; there'll be a score of replies in the post by now, if I'm not mistaken."
We went to Plymouth as arranged, and, upon calling at the office, we were handed a large wicker tray crammed full with letters and post-cards.
"All these for me?" asked the pater. "Yes, sir, and almost as many again will be in by to-night's post, I daresay."
"Then please destroy the rest, and insert a notice stating that the vacancies have been filled, for I've no doubt that I can suit my requirements from this budget."
From the newspaper office we went to a large firm of provision merchants, and ordered casks and tins of provisions to be sent round to Fowey for shipment on the "Fortuna," and thence to a sailmaker's, where my father ordered a huge square sail to be made to the design which he had drawn.
"What's that for?" I inquired as we left the sail-loft. "The 'Fortuna' does not carry square yards."
"Not at present," replied my father; "but she will do so ere long. I found that on our run down from Hamble, for with the wind dead aft there is always the danger of a gybe with a fore and aft rig, whereas with a square sail the comfort and freedom from mishap is infinitely greater. In the 'Trades' I have no doubt that the sail will be used for days together."
Then twenty suits of clothing for tropical and home use had to be ordered, together with numerous stores from a ship's chandler's, till, almost worn out with the exertions of the day, we returned home—but not to rest, for the huge budget of applications had to be read and classified.
It was a curious mixture. Some letters were well written, others mere scrawl; but the general tone of the whole batch was a willingness to undergo any hardship rather than starve in England.
"Here are a likely dozen," said my father, after perusing nearly a hundred letters. "Tell Johnston to come here and see if he knows any of them."
Johnston, who was making rapid strides towards recovery, had so impressed us with his quiet and orderly demeanour that we had decided to take him with us, placing him on light duties till capable of doing a regular day's work. In response to the summons he came and read down the list of names my father had jotted down.
"No, sir, I don't think I 'know any of them."
"But do you think any of them might know you? It might be awkward, you know."
"I suppose I must take the risk, sir," he replied. "Besides, I shouldn't like my misfortunes to do another man out of a job."
"Very well, then. Here, Herbert, make yourself useful, and write these twelve names on envelopes."
"But, I say——"
"What?"
"Why, with Johnston these twelve will make thirteen—horribly unlucky, you know."
"But we also form part of the crew."
"Not as part of a paid crew."
"Well, to be on the safe side, cut down one," he said with a merry laugh.
So that evening notice that their services were accepted were posted to the men, and the crew of the "Fortuna" was as follows:—
Captain: HOWARD TREVENA, R.N.R.Mate: HERBERT TREVENA, R.N.R.Second Mate: REGINALD TREVENA.Boatswain: PETER WILKINS, late bos'n's mate, R.N.Quartermaster: TRESCO LORD, late master-at-arms.Deck hands:—ROBERT DALLEY, late armourer, R.N.WM. STAINER, late armourer, R.N.EDWARD HINKS, late gunner's mate, R.N.FREDK MONEY, late gunner's mate, R.N.WM. LEWIS, A.B., late seaman diver, R.N.GEORGE BURBIDGE, A.B., late seaman diver, R.N.JOSEPH DIRHAM, A.B.JOHN MILLS, A.B.FREDK. BARNES, A.B.ALEC JOHNSTON, A.B. (to act as officers' steward).
In spite of the greatest secrecy on our part, rumours of the object of the voyage began to get about, older people naturally and correctly associating the almost forgotten "San Philipo" treasure with the expedition, greatly to my father's anger. However, we managed to get the arms and ammunition on board, lowering the gun by means of tackle from our garden into a boat which we brought alongside at high water, working as silently as we could in the dead of night.
By Saturday the last of the stores was aboard, including two diving suits from Siebe, Gorman & Co., and all that remained was to fill up the tanks with fresh water and ship the crew.
The latter had been told to assemble at the railway-station at 10 a.m. on Monday, and thither my uncle and I repaired to muster the men and take them to the vessel. To our surprise we found that, long before the arrival of the train, four men were already on the platform, having tramped from Plymouth, over twenty-seven miles of hilly road, for want of sufficient money to pay their railway fares.
The arrival of the train brought the rest of the contingent—not a man was missing—and, led by my uncle and myself, the whole party marched in an orderly manner down the narrow Fore Street, to the undisguised astonishment of the townsfolk. In their civilian clothing the men looked a nondescript lot, some bearded, some clean-shaven, and a few, departing from the naval custom, had grown moustaches, while each man carried either a bundle tied up in a blue handkerchief or else a black ditty-box under his arm. Nevertheless, they were a fine body of active, middle-aged men, and, with their previous training, would soon fall into regular sea-going routine.
Outside the "King of Prussia" the party was joined by my father, who led the men into a room where a well-laid breakfast awaited them. This they did full justice to, the need of a good meal being apparently no stranger to the majority of them.
Then my father addressed them. It was the first time I had heard him speak in public, and the warmth and earnestness of his words astonished me. He began by telling the men plainly that the voyage was to be no mere pleasure-trip, but occasional hard work was required, and even actual danger might have to be faced. On the other hand, the "Fortuna," though small, was exceptionally seaworthy, and everything that could be done for their comfort had been provided. He even hinted at an additional reward for their services should the voyage come up to anticipations, although he stated distinctly, that he gave no definite promise on that account, and finally explained that any man who wished to withdraw could do so, and his fare to and from his home would be paid forthwith.
However, our new crew were unanimous in their choice, and the signing of the men's papers was proceeded with. Then the party marched down to Whitehouse Steps, where the watermen rowed them off to the "Fortuna."
The rest of the day was spent in getting the men accustomed to the vessel. Proper watches were set, the starboard watch under my father and the bos'n, the port watch under Uncle Herbert and the quartermaster, and ship's time took the place of shore time, the hours and half-hours being sounded by the bell.
At four in the afternoon—or eight bells, as I should have expressed it—we went ashore to our home in Polruan. All arrangements had been made for the proper care of the home during our absence, and the remainder of the day was spent in receiving our numerous friends who had come over to bid us farewell and good luck; for, now that the final details had been completed, there was little need to conceal the fact that the "San Philipo" treasure was, as had been conjectured, the object of our voyage.
It was nightfall ere we left the house for the last time for a good many months. At Polruan Quay the gig awaited us, and, urged by the powerful strokes of the rowers, the little craft was soon alongside the "Fortuna." In true nautical style the shrill pipe of the bos'n's whistle was heard, and the crew stood to attention as the yacht's officers came on board. Then, directly the gig was hoisted in the davits, the crew returned to their stand-easy on the fo'c'sle, the dancing beams of the anchor light and the glowing bowls of the men's pipes dimly illuminating the shadowy forms of the seamen, as in low tones they discussed the projects of the voyage or talked reminiscently of bygone commissions.
"I don't think you will ever be dull during the voyage, Reggie," remarked my father, indicating the knot of men with a wave of his hand. "Amongst that little crew there is to be gathered a wealth of adventure from all the five oceans. And some of their yarns are well worth listening to, I can assure you."
At ten o'clock the following morning my father was rowed ashore to obtain the necessary ship's papers from the Custom-house, and half an hour later the "Fortuna" slipped her moorings, and, dipping her ensign as a farewell salute to the Yacht Club, glided swiftly out of Fowey Harbour on her long voyage to the coral islands of the Pacific.
Half an hour later the grim outlines of the Gribben were lost to sight in the mist that overhung the land, and, with every sail drawing, the "Fortuna" rapidly drew away from the shores of dear old England.
"THERE'S a power o' wind behind that mirk, sir," exclaimed Wilkins, the bos'n, jerking his thumb in the direction of the dark, ill-defined clouds that had shut out the sight of land.
"Yes, we are in for a good dusting," replied my father. "The glass is rising far too rapidly. Make everything secure on deck, and put extra lashings on the boats. And also," he added, as the bos'n saluted and began to make his way for'ard, "have the jibs changed before it gets too thick."
We were sufficiently far from land to prevent its affording much shelter, and with the increasing wind, huge waves began to curl viciously under our counter, threatening every moment to break over our quarter. But the staunch little yacht rose splendidly to each white crest, and, beyond a shower of spray that darkened our canvas almost to the peak, hardly a drop of solid water reached our decks. Astern, the trailing line of the Walker "Cherub" log was stretched to almost the rigidity of an iron bar, and the indicator bell, sounding at every quarter-knot with less than two minutes' interval, showed our speed to be well over seven knots.
Suddenly, accompanied by a blinding downpour of hail that rolled on our decks and clustered in white patches in our lee scuppers, a furious squall struck us, making the "Fortuna" heel till I thought she would never recover herself. But with a few rapid turns of the wheel the helm was put hard up, till, relieved of the enormous pressure on her canvas, the yacht shook herself free like a great mastiff emerging from the water.
"Pay her head off a point now," shouted the bos'n to the seaman at the wheel, and, without losing way, the yacht resumed her course, churning the sea over her bows in swishing columns of spray.
While the squall lasted, I was dimly aware that I was gripping a belaying-pin like grim death, swallowing mouthfuls of salt-laden air, till it seemed that I was actually enveloped in water, while each wave, as it flung itself against our quarter, shook the bulwarks till it threatened to tear them bodily away.
In obedience to an order that was inaudible to me, several of the crew came rushing along the deck, in spite of the terrific heel and jerky motion of the vessel, and in a few moments the halliards of the mainsail were paid out, and a dozen strong hands were struggling with the cringles and reef-points of the mainsail. Directly the reef was "knocked down," the "Fortuna" took things easier, yet with apparently undiminished speed she threshed her way through the foam-crested waves.
"Sail on the port bow, sir," repeated the bos'n, taking up the cry from a seaman on the look-out for'ard; and through the driving rain we could see a large topsail schooner, her close-reefed mainsail streaming in ribbons, and only her foresail and inner jib set, pounding heavily on the port-tack, the waves sweeping clean over her sides, as, high in ballast, she listed dangerously, till one could almost fancy that her weather bilges were showing.
"There's an old coffin!" shouted Uncle Herbert in my ear. "Four times our size and nothing like so seaworthy."
"It's an absolute scandal to allow a ship to put to sea so high in ballast," bawled my father, who overheard the remark. "If they insist on a Plimsoll line to prevent overloading, why not a similar mark to stop vessels putting to sea too light?"
"I don't know," replied my uncle, shaking the water from his sou'-wester. "But yonder craft will be lucky if ever she makes port in safety. Look at her now."
An extra vicious blast had come, sweeping down, making even the "Fortuna," with her double-reefed canvas, reel; but the schooner staggered as if struck by a solid substance, and heeled over till her topsail yards almost touched the water, and I thought she had actually capsized.
At length she slowly righted, and, staggering and plunging, she was soon lost to sight in the rain-laden atmosphere.
Shortly afterwards two torpedo-boat destroyers came thrashing along within a cable's length of our stern, their four squat funnels, caked white with salt, belching out volumes of black smoke, through which gleamed dark red flames, the indications of steaming under forced draught. There was no attempt on the part of these dogs of war to ride the waves: their sharp bows simply cut through the heaving water, which fell in cascades from their turtle-back decks. On either bridge could be discerned the glistening sou'-westers of the officers on duty, as, to avoid the blinding spray, they crouched behind the storm-dodgers, while, as the destroyers tore past, we had a momentary glimpse of their weather-worn white ensigns, and both craft were hidden in a chaos of spray and smoke.
"You had better get below and have something to eat," shouted my father; but I shook my head.
"A bit queer, eh?"
"No," I replied, conscious at the same time that I did feel a trifle uneasy.
"Then cut off down below," he repeated, "and keep out of the wet for a time. Tell Johnston to make you some tea; you look pinched with cold."
I obeyed, and, staggering across the slippery deck, I gained the companion and reached the shelter of the saloon. The place was in semi-darkness, for dead-lights had been placed over the scuttles and the skylight covered over with tarpaulins, and the only illumination was the dim daylight that filtered through the half-closed companion hatch. Coming from the open air, the atmosphere of the saloon seemed close and oppressive, and I would have willingly preferred to remain on deck during the storm (which Uncle Herbert insisted on terming a strong breeze) rather than be cooped up 'tween decks.
However, I lay down on one of the sofa-bunks on the lee side, battling with a dizzy sensation that made me lose all interest in life; but I could remember watching the antics of the swing table as it oscillated, in spite of its construction, with the pitching of the vessel, and wondering whether, a soda-water siphon, that was continually sliding from one side of the table to the other, would overbalance and explode.
How long I remained thus I have no idea, though it may have been hours; but suddenly there was a hurried trampling of feet on deck, a succession of orders, and the "Fortuna" went about on the other tack, sending me flying from the berth (which was now on the weather side) on to the floor, where I lay, covered with cushions, books, and half-a-dozen wooden boxes which had been disgorged from a cupboard through the lock being insecurely fastened.
In an instant my scattered senses returned, and, realizing that something unusual must have happened for the yacht to be put on the other tack when she was sailing free on her proper course, I sprang to my feet and scrambled up the companion.
On gaining the deck I found the crew clustered along the lee bulwarks, gazing intently upon a small craft barely a hundred yards away. It was a yacht, apparently, of about three or four tons, with a large rent in her mainsail, her storm-jib in ribbons, and only her foresail intact.
As she fell into the trough of the huge seas she lost the wind, but the moment she rose on the crest of a wave she was caught by the furious gusts and heeled till we could almost see her keel and as she heeled a long dark line showed on her white side close to her chain plates.
"She's done for!" shouted the bos'n. "That last squall has burst one of her seams." Crouched in her cockpit was a man whose white face was drawn with the peril of the situation. With one hand he grasped the tiller, and with the other he appeared to be trying to pump out the water that was pouring into the doomed craft, occasionally desisting to wave a frantic appeal for assistance.
Snatching a lifebuoy, my uncle rapidly bent a stout grass line to it, and held it up for the unfortunate yachtsman to see, for shouting was useless. In another moment the "Fortuna," which was tearing through the water like a racehorse, had left the disabled craft far astern.
"Lee ho!" shouted the bos'n, and with a loud flapping of canvas the "Fortuna" ran up into the wind, and, drawing on the other tack, ran back on her errand of mercy. In spite of the sheets being slacked well off, our stout little craft rushed towards the unfortunate yacht, our intention being to pass as close to windward of her and as slowly as possible, and to try and pick up the stranger with the lifebelt, for any attempt at luffing would entail great risks to us should the "Fortuna" drift or fall foul of the almost waterlogged craft.
It seemed but a few seconds before we were again abreast of the disabled yacht. My uncle, springing on to the lee bulwarks and steadying himself with his left hand round the shrouds, poised the lifebelt with his right, and prepared to make a cast.
"Jump for it! We'll pick you up!" shouted the men in a chorus, for we were passing within a few yards of the stranger.
The man stood upright, and made ready to spring, but at the crucial moment he hesitated, and the opportunity had passed. Even as he returned to his former position in the cockpit, the little craft flung her stern high out of the water, and with a splash and a turmoil of escaping air she disappeared beneath the waves.
There was a general groan of dismay from the crew; then suddenly I heard my father shout, "What's that man doing? Stop him, you fellows!" But, before any one could raise a hand, one of the crew had torn off his oilskins, flung a lifebelt overboard, and had plunged in after it.
Instantly there was a rush towards the whaler. The crew stood by the falls and waited for the order; but my father, glancing at the mountainous waves, bade them desist.
"They must take their chance," he shouted. "The boat could never live in such a sea. Up aloft one of you and keep a bright look-out. Lee, ho! Hard down with your helm!"
The "Fortuna" flung about on the other tack, and with the ropes coiled ready to throw to their comrade and the unfortunate yachtsman, our crew anxiously awaited their opportunity.
One man with the agility of a monkey had swung himself aloft, and was perched on the crosstrees. He shouted, but his voice was inaudible, though by his gestures we knew that one at least of the men had been sighted.
"Bear away a bit! Steady!"
Following the direction indicated by the look-out, I saw a dark object on the crest of a wave. The next moment it was lost to sight in the trough, but on the summit of the next roller I could make out the head and shoulders of the yachtsman encircled by the lifebelt, and our brave seaman steadying himself with one hand on the belt and keeping afloat as unconcernedly as if in a swimming bath.
"Bear away a bit more! Stand by there, men!" shouted my father. "Be sharp with those bowlines and haul them up roundly directly they catch them!"
"Let's hope the poor fellow has strength to hold on," he added to his brother. "I am afraid we are carrying too much way; yet if we luff her, she will roll over on top of them and crush their skulls like egg-shells."
"We must risk it. It's their only chance," replied my uncle.
"Very well, then, I will," said my father, and, raising his voice, he gave the order: "Luff her up!"
Quivering like a wounded animal, the "Fortuna" ran up into the wind, with sufficient way to bring, her up to the two well-nigh exhausted men. One of the crew stationed at the main chains threw a bowline. It missed, but the second was more successful, for it fell over the shoulders of the stranger, and as the man paid out the line handsomely a wave swept the unfortunate man against the ship's side, raising him to within reach of half-a-dozen willing hands on deck. At the same instant his rescuer grasped the bowline, and, with great presence of mind, thrust his feet through the loop, and amid the cheers of the crew both men were hauled over the side.
"Take both of them down to the saloon," said my father, "and tell Johnston to get some hot water ready as soon as possible."
"Fire's out, sir," replied one of the crew. "We had to unship the galley funnel."
"Then re-ship the funnel, and rig preventer stays to it. Should it be carried away it can't be helped; if not, so much the better."
"Very good, sir."
"And what's this man's name?" asked my parent, indicating the gallant rescuer, who was being assisted down the companion.
"Lewis, sir; Bill Lewis."
"Capital fellow! Capital fellow!" exclaimed my father; and, having seen that the "Fortuna" once more lay on her proper course, he went down into the saloon, I following him.
The excitement of the last half-hour had driven away all feelings of sea-sickness, and, strangely enough, I felt no discomfort at being in the cabin. The rescued yachtsman was lying motionless on one of the berths, his body enveloped in blankets. I noticed that there was a clean cut on his cheek, extending from the right ear nearly to the chin, which had bled freely; and I also remarked that his hands, though hardened by manual labour, were well cared for. Apparently he had not swallowed much sea water, for he was sleeping soundly as if tired out with sheer exhaustion.
His rescuer, Lewis, was little the worse for his gallant efforts, and was sitting awkwardly in a deck chair as if out of place in the saloon of a yacht. He rose as my father entered the cabin, and shuffled with his feet in his embarrassment.
"I am proud of you, Lewis!" exclaimed my father, shaking him by the hand.
"'Twas nothing, sir."
"It was a gallant deed."
"May be, sir; but I didn't stop to think. If I did I mightn't have gone overboard."
"I'll not forget it, Lewis. I hope to send a report of your bravery to the proper quarter at the first opportunity. Is there anything I can do for you now?"
"No, sir, not as I knows of. Leastways, I'd like to go for'ard and have a pipe. I'm just longing for a draw."
"Certainly, Lewis; but how did you get that bruise?" added the pater, noticing the man's eye, which was considerably damaged and rapidly turning a greenish black.
"While I was in the water, sir. Directly I saw the gent yonder I swam for him, pushing the lifebelt afore me. Then I bore in mind the instructions for saving drowning persons, to assure him with a loud and firm voice that he was safe, though I'll allow my voice didn't strike me as being particularly loud and firm, and neither did I feel so very sure that he was safe. However, I did as was directed, and, getting up behind him, I tugged at his hair to turn him on his back. It's all very fine a-laying down regulations for saving a man, but I reckon the fellow as wrote 'em never had to do the trick hisself, for directly I laid hold of the young gent he twists round somehow and plugs me in the eye. So I had to let go, and down he went again. The next time he came up I pitched the belt over his head, and he grabbed at it like grim death.
"After a bit he quieted down somewhat, and I took hold of the lifebelt too, as I began to feel done up. There was no sign of the ship, and I thought she had missed us and that I had lost the number of my mess; but soon afterwards I saw her bearing down, and we were taken aboard."
"Well, let's be thankful it's no worse," remarked my father, smiling. "Now cut away for'ard and enjoy your smoke, and tell the bos'n that it's your watch below to-night."
"Thank'ee, sir," said Lewis, saluting and backing out of the saloon as if thankful for his release.
In obedience to an order, three of the seamen carried the still sleeping yachtsman into my cabin and placed him in bed.
"He'll be comfortable there, Reggie," remarked the pater. "And you can sleep on the spare bunk in my cabin to-night. To-morrow we may no doubt hear an interesting story of his adventures. Now, tell Johnston to hurry up with the dinner."