Chapter Five.

Chapter Five.“Iceberg ahead!”A gale springs up—A dark night—Sound of breakers—Ship running on an iceberg—The “Ranger” scrapes along the berg—Providential escape—Ensign Holt’s alarm—The carpenter reports a leak—The chain-pumps rigged—the “Ranger” on her beam-ends—The masts cut away—Running before the gale—All hands at the pumps—The weather moderates—Prepare to rig jury-masts.Once more a strong breeze had sprung up from the westward, and the ship was making good way through the water.Though it was the summer time in the southern hemisphere, the weather was very variable; now, when the wind came from the antarctic pole, bitterly cold; or drawing round and blowing from the north, after it had passed over the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, it was soft and balmy.It was Harry Shafto’s morning watch; he had just relieved the second-lieutenant. Willy was for’ard. It was blowing somewhat fresh, and the ship had a reef in her topsails and her courses set. The night was very dark. Willy having just been aroused from a midshipman’s sound sleep, was rubbing his eyes to get them clear. Now he peered out ahead into the darkness, now he rubbed them again, and shut and opened them, to satisfy himself that they were in good order. He could not distinguish who was on the forecastle, but he knew by the voice that one of the best men in the ship, Paul Lizard, was by his side.“I have seen many a dark night, Mr Dicey, but this pretty well beats them all,” observed Paul. “It’s not one I should like to be caught in on a lee-shore or a strange coast; though out here, in the open sea, there is nothing to fear, as the highway is a pretty wide one, and we are not likely to fall in with any other craft crossing our course.”“Very true,” answered Willy; “but there is one thing I have been told to do, and that is to keep a bright look-out, though it may be difficult enough to see an object; even should one be ahead.”“On course, sir,” said Paul, “what is our duty must be done, though it would be a hard matter to see the ‘David Dunn’ of Dover, even if our jibboom were over her taffrail.”“What ship is that?” asked Willy. “I never heard of her.”“The biggest ship that ever was or ever will be, sir,” answered Paul, who was fond of a joke. “When she went about going up Channel once, her spanker pretty nigh swept away one of the towers of Calais, while her jibboom run right into Dover Castle.”“She must have been a big ship, then,” said Willy.The voice of the officer of the watch hailing the forecastle put a stop to Paul’s wit. “Ay, ay, sir,” he answered, in his usual stentorian voice; then he added, “It seems to be growing darker than ever.” So Willy thought, but still he tried his best with his sharp young eyes to penetrate the gloom.“I wish it would clear,” observed Willy. “It is dark.”“It couldn’t well be darker, sir,” said Paul; “to my mind it would be wise to shorten sail, or heave the ship to. The captain knows best, though.”“It is getting very cold, though,” said Dicey. “I can feel the difference since the last five minutes.”“I can’t say I feel it,” said Paul; “but hark, sir; I fancy I heard the sound of breakers.”Willy listened, bending forward in his eagerness. “Yes,” he thought he heard a sound, and it seemed to be almost ahead, but yet it seemed to come from a long way off.“It is only fancy after all,” observed Paul. The other men for’ard could hear nothing.A few minutes passed. “What is that?” exclaimed Willy, with startling energy. “There seems to be a great white wall rising up before us.”“Iceberg ahead!” shouted Paul, and he never hallooed louder in his life, “a little on the starboard bow.”“Starboard the helm,” cried Harry from the quarterdeck. “Man the starboard braces. Brace the yards sharp up; call the captain; all hands on deck to save ship.” Such were the orders he issued in rapid succession. In an instant the boatswain’s whistle and the hoarse bawling of his mates was heard along the lower decks, and the ship, lately so silent and deserted, teemed with life. The crew came tumbling up from below, some with their clothes in their hands; the soldiers quickly followed, hurrying from their berths. Commander Newcombe and the other officers were on deck a few instants after the order to summon them had been given. He now took command, issuing his orders with the calmness of a man well inured to danger. Another voice was heard; it was that of Colonel Morley. “Soldiers, keep to your quarters,” he shouted out. The men, who had been rushing on deck, without a murmur obeyed the command.The danger was indeed imminent. Sheer out of the ocean rose a huge white mountain, directly against which the ship appeared to be running headlong; but, answering her helm, she came up to the wind, though not in sufficient time altogether to avoid the danger. As Willy looked up, he expected to see the yards strike the sides of the iceberg, for such it was. A grating sound was heard: now it seemed as if the ship would be thrown bodily on to the icy mass; still she moved forward; now she heeled over to the wind, the yards again almost touching the frozen cliffs. An active leaper might have sprung on to the berg, could footing have been found. Every moment the crew expected to find their ship held fast by some jutting point, and speedily dashed to pieces; the bravest held their breath, and had there been light, the countenances of those who were wont to laugh at danger might have been seen blanched with terror.Again and again the ship struck, as she scraped by the berg. It seemed wonderful, indeed, to those ignorant of the cause, that she should continue to move forward, and be driven ever and anon actually away from the ice. This was caused by the undertow, which prevented her from being thrown bodily on to the berg. Not a word was spoken, not an order issued, for all that could be done had been done. All were aware, however, that, even should she scrape clear of the berg, the blows her sides were receiving might at any moment rip them open, and send her helplessly to the bottom of the cold ocean.The voyager on such an occasion may well exclaim, “Vain is the help of man!”Harry, with the second-lieutenant, had gone for’ard among the men stationed on the forecastle, all eagerly looking out in the hopes of seeing the extreme end of the berg. Suddenly the white wall seemed to terminate, the ship glided freely forward, rising to the sea, which came rolling in from the north-west.“Sound the well, Mr Chisel,” said the commander to the carpenter. All on deck stood anxiously waiting his report.The berg appeared on the quarter, gradually becoming less and less distinct, till what seemed like a thin white mist alone was seen, which soon melted away altogether in the thick darkness. Still all well knew that other bergs might be in the neighbourhood, and a similar danger might have to be encountered.The officers paced the deck, looking out anxiously, and those who, while the danger lasted, had not felt the cold, hurried below to finish dressing as best they could, or buttoned up their flushing coats, and wrapped comforters round their necks.Colonel Morley returned to the cabin to tell his wife and daughters that the danger had passed. He found them pale and anxious, but neither trembling nor fainting. The two girls were seated on each side of their mother, holding her hands. They had been fully aware of the danger in which the ship had been placed, and they had together been offering up their prayers for their own safety and for that of all on board.Peter Patch, finding himself near Willy, whispered that he should like to go and see how Ensign Holt had behaved himself. He would have found the ensign seated on the deck of his cabin with his bed-clothes pulled over his head, much too alarmed to think, or to utter any sounds but “Oh! oh! oh! what is going to happen? Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, I wish I had not come!”The other officers had collected in the main cabin, where Captain Power had taken his seat at the head of the table, giving encouragement to those around him, while their well-disciplined men, according to orders, kept to their quarters, the sergeants moving among them to see that no one went on deck. Mrs Rumbelow had taken the poor women under her charge, and did her best to comfort them.“I told you so,” she exclaimed, when the ship was found to be moving easily forward, and those fearful grating sounds had ceased. “Just trust in God, and all will come right. Never cry out that all is lost while there is life, and even at the last moment hope that a way of deliverance may be found.”The wind had increased, the courses had been taken off the ship, and she stood out under her topsails. It might have been supposed that nothing particular had occurred. All hands were at their stations, however, both watches being kept on deck; indeed, no one, even the most careless, felt inclined to go below.The commander was walking the poop, awaiting the report of the carpenter; he had taken one or two turns, when a figure approached him.“I don’t like the state of things,” said a voice which he recognised as that of Mr Chisel. “The ship is making water very rapidly; it’s coming in in several places, though the worst leaks are for’ard.”“We must do our best to stop them, however,” answered the commander. “And, Mr Chisel, do not let more than necessary know this.” The first-lieutenant and master instantly hurried below to assist the carpenter in discovering the leaks. That they were high up seemed certain, and thus some hope existed that they might be reached. In time the chief injuries were discovered, and every effort was made to stop the leaks, old sails and blankets being used for the purpose. The pumps were immediately manned by the soldiers, who were told off to work them. Their clanking sound echoed along the decks, while, at the same time, the loud gush of the clear water rushing through the scuppers gave fearful proof of the large amount which must be rushing in. How eagerly all on board longed for daylight. The wind, however, was rising, and the ship heeled over on the side which had received the injury; she was accordingly put on the other tack, although it would take her out of her proper course.All on board felt it to be a solemn time. The only sounds heard were those of the clanking pumps, and the gush of water as it was forced up from below. The wind was every instant increasing. The topsails were closely reefed, and the “Ranger” went plunging on into the fast-rising seas.At length the cold light of early morn broke on the countenances of the crew; many looked pale and haggard. The past hours had been trying ones, and the soldiers, some in their shirts and trousers only, were labouring away manfully at the pumps; the crew at their stations, ready to obey the commands which any sudden emergency might demand. At length the carpenter reported that he had so far conquered the leaks that the ship might safely be put again on the port tack.“Helm a-lee!” was heard. “Shift tacks and sheets! Mainsail haul! of all haul!” shouted Commander Newcombe; but at that instant, before the words were well out of his mouth, while the yards were in the act of being swung round, a terrific blast laid the ship over, a heavy sea striking her at the same time. For an instant it seemed as if she would never rise again. Shrieks were heart! rising from the foaming waters under her lee; several poor fellows were seen struggling amid them. No help could be given; no boat would have lived in that sea, had there been time to lower one, before they had sunk for ever. Their fate might soon be that of all on board.The commander, after a moment’s consultation with the first-lieutenant and master, had summoned the carpenter, who appeared directly afterwards with his crew and several picked men with axes in their hands. They stood round the mizen-mast. “Cut,” he cried. The mizen shrouds were severed, a few splinters were seen to fly from the mast, and over it fell into the seething sea. Still the ship did not rise. They sprang to the mainmast. “That, too, must go,” said the commander, and issued the order to cut. In another instant the tall mast fell into the sea. For a moment it seemed doubtful whether that would have any effect. Suddenly the ship rose with a violent motion to an even keel, carrying away, as she did so, her fore-topmast. The helm was put up. Onwards she flew before the still-increasing gale. The seas rolled savagely up with foaming crests, as if trying to overwhelm her. To attempt to heave her to without any after-sail would now be hopeless.Willy Dicey, who had gone aft, heard the commander remark to the first-lieutenant, that he hoped the gale would not last long, as otherwise they might be driven in among the ice, which would be found in heavy packs to the south-east. “With a moderate breeze we might reach New Zealand in ten days or a fortnight,” he observed. “I trust we can keep the old ship afloat till then.”“Chisel thinks the injuries very severe, though,” said the first-lieutenant; “still, with the aid of the soldiers, we can keep the pumps going without difficulty, and we may be thankful that we have them on board.”All day long the “Ranger” ran on, the wind and sea rather increasing than in any way lessening. Night once more approached, but no sign appeared of the gale abating. The soldiers relieved each other bravely at the pumps. Had it not been for them, the seamen well knew that the ship must have gone down; for though they might have worked them well, their strength must in time have given in. Mrs Rumbelow continued her kind ministrations to the women and children below; she had a word, too, for the seamen and soldiers, who were allowed half-a-watch at a time to take some rest. “You see, laddies,” she observed, “how you can all help each other. If the ship is to be kept afloat, and our lives saved, it will be by all working together with a will; you soldiers, by labouring at the pumps, and the sailors by taking care of the ship. If all do their duty there’s he fear, boys. I only wish people could learn the same in the everyday concerns of life—the world would get on much more happily than it does.”While the sea continued rolling and the ship tumbling about, there were no hopes of getting up jury-masts. That night was even more trying than the previous one. It was not quite so dark, for now and then the clouds cleared away, and the bright stars shone forth; but still it was impossible to say whether some big iceberg might not be ahead, or whether the ship might not be driven into the midst of a field of ice, which would be scarcely less dangerous. All night long she ran on before the gale. It would be hopeless to attempt bringing her on a wind while the storm continued, and yet she was running into unknown dangers. Before, when she almost ran into the iceberg, she had had her masts standing, and was under easy steering canvas; now, with her after-masts gone, should an iceberg rise in her course, it would be scarcely possible for her to escape it.Not a single officer of the ship, and but few of the men, went below that night. The military officers took their turn at the pumps to relieve their men; for, although so many were ready for the duty, so great was the exertion required, that they could continue at it but a few minutes together. As soon as one man was knocked up, another sprang into his place.Another day dawned. It is easy to imagine how anxiously the night had been spent by all on board, especially by the poor ladies and soldiers’ wives. Happy were those who knew the power and effect of prayer. Wonderfully had they been supported. Those who knew not how to pray had been seated with hands clasped, or lying down with their heads covered up, endeavouring to shut out all thought of the future. Mrs Morley and her daughters had remained in their cabin, calm, though not unmoved, visited every now and then by the colonel; yet he could afford them but little consolation with regard to the safety of the ship. All he could say was that the men were doing their duty, and that they must hope for the best.Ensign Holt had been missed by his brother officers, and roused up, not very gently, and had been compelled to take his turn at the pumps. He ought to have been very much obliged to them, as those are best off who are actively engaged in times of danger, though he grumbled considerably, declaring that it was not in the articles of war, and that he did not see why he should be made to work at the pumps like the common men.As the day advanced, though the weather remained thick and lowering, the wind began to abate; yet the sea ran still very high, and the ship laboured greatly. The seamen were making preparations, however, to set up jury-masts, the carpenter and his crew were busy in lashing the spars together for the purpose, and the boatswain and his party in preparing the rigging; but while the ship continued pitching and rolling as she was then doing, it would be impossible to set up the masts. “I often wished to encounter a gale of wind,” observed Peter Patch to Willy; “but, to confess the honest truth, now I know what it is, especially in these cold regions, I would rather have been excused.”

Once more a strong breeze had sprung up from the westward, and the ship was making good way through the water.

Though it was the summer time in the southern hemisphere, the weather was very variable; now, when the wind came from the antarctic pole, bitterly cold; or drawing round and blowing from the north, after it had passed over the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, it was soft and balmy.

It was Harry Shafto’s morning watch; he had just relieved the second-lieutenant. Willy was for’ard. It was blowing somewhat fresh, and the ship had a reef in her topsails and her courses set. The night was very dark. Willy having just been aroused from a midshipman’s sound sleep, was rubbing his eyes to get them clear. Now he peered out ahead into the darkness, now he rubbed them again, and shut and opened them, to satisfy himself that they were in good order. He could not distinguish who was on the forecastle, but he knew by the voice that one of the best men in the ship, Paul Lizard, was by his side.

“I have seen many a dark night, Mr Dicey, but this pretty well beats them all,” observed Paul. “It’s not one I should like to be caught in on a lee-shore or a strange coast; though out here, in the open sea, there is nothing to fear, as the highway is a pretty wide one, and we are not likely to fall in with any other craft crossing our course.”

“Very true,” answered Willy; “but there is one thing I have been told to do, and that is to keep a bright look-out, though it may be difficult enough to see an object; even should one be ahead.”

“On course, sir,” said Paul, “what is our duty must be done, though it would be a hard matter to see the ‘David Dunn’ of Dover, even if our jibboom were over her taffrail.”

“What ship is that?” asked Willy. “I never heard of her.”

“The biggest ship that ever was or ever will be, sir,” answered Paul, who was fond of a joke. “When she went about going up Channel once, her spanker pretty nigh swept away one of the towers of Calais, while her jibboom run right into Dover Castle.”

“She must have been a big ship, then,” said Willy.

The voice of the officer of the watch hailing the forecastle put a stop to Paul’s wit. “Ay, ay, sir,” he answered, in his usual stentorian voice; then he added, “It seems to be growing darker than ever.” So Willy thought, but still he tried his best with his sharp young eyes to penetrate the gloom.

“I wish it would clear,” observed Willy. “It is dark.”

“It couldn’t well be darker, sir,” said Paul; “to my mind it would be wise to shorten sail, or heave the ship to. The captain knows best, though.”

“It is getting very cold, though,” said Dicey. “I can feel the difference since the last five minutes.”

“I can’t say I feel it,” said Paul; “but hark, sir; I fancy I heard the sound of breakers.”

Willy listened, bending forward in his eagerness. “Yes,” he thought he heard a sound, and it seemed to be almost ahead, but yet it seemed to come from a long way off.

“It is only fancy after all,” observed Paul. The other men for’ard could hear nothing.

A few minutes passed. “What is that?” exclaimed Willy, with startling energy. “There seems to be a great white wall rising up before us.”

“Iceberg ahead!” shouted Paul, and he never hallooed louder in his life, “a little on the starboard bow.”

“Starboard the helm,” cried Harry from the quarterdeck. “Man the starboard braces. Brace the yards sharp up; call the captain; all hands on deck to save ship.” Such were the orders he issued in rapid succession. In an instant the boatswain’s whistle and the hoarse bawling of his mates was heard along the lower decks, and the ship, lately so silent and deserted, teemed with life. The crew came tumbling up from below, some with their clothes in their hands; the soldiers quickly followed, hurrying from their berths. Commander Newcombe and the other officers were on deck a few instants after the order to summon them had been given. He now took command, issuing his orders with the calmness of a man well inured to danger. Another voice was heard; it was that of Colonel Morley. “Soldiers, keep to your quarters,” he shouted out. The men, who had been rushing on deck, without a murmur obeyed the command.

The danger was indeed imminent. Sheer out of the ocean rose a huge white mountain, directly against which the ship appeared to be running headlong; but, answering her helm, she came up to the wind, though not in sufficient time altogether to avoid the danger. As Willy looked up, he expected to see the yards strike the sides of the iceberg, for such it was. A grating sound was heard: now it seemed as if the ship would be thrown bodily on to the icy mass; still she moved forward; now she heeled over to the wind, the yards again almost touching the frozen cliffs. An active leaper might have sprung on to the berg, could footing have been found. Every moment the crew expected to find their ship held fast by some jutting point, and speedily dashed to pieces; the bravest held their breath, and had there been light, the countenances of those who were wont to laugh at danger might have been seen blanched with terror.

Again and again the ship struck, as she scraped by the berg. It seemed wonderful, indeed, to those ignorant of the cause, that she should continue to move forward, and be driven ever and anon actually away from the ice. This was caused by the undertow, which prevented her from being thrown bodily on to the berg. Not a word was spoken, not an order issued, for all that could be done had been done. All were aware, however, that, even should she scrape clear of the berg, the blows her sides were receiving might at any moment rip them open, and send her helplessly to the bottom of the cold ocean.

The voyager on such an occasion may well exclaim, “Vain is the help of man!”

Harry, with the second-lieutenant, had gone for’ard among the men stationed on the forecastle, all eagerly looking out in the hopes of seeing the extreme end of the berg. Suddenly the white wall seemed to terminate, the ship glided freely forward, rising to the sea, which came rolling in from the north-west.

“Sound the well, Mr Chisel,” said the commander to the carpenter. All on deck stood anxiously waiting his report.

The berg appeared on the quarter, gradually becoming less and less distinct, till what seemed like a thin white mist alone was seen, which soon melted away altogether in the thick darkness. Still all well knew that other bergs might be in the neighbourhood, and a similar danger might have to be encountered.

The officers paced the deck, looking out anxiously, and those who, while the danger lasted, had not felt the cold, hurried below to finish dressing as best they could, or buttoned up their flushing coats, and wrapped comforters round their necks.

Colonel Morley returned to the cabin to tell his wife and daughters that the danger had passed. He found them pale and anxious, but neither trembling nor fainting. The two girls were seated on each side of their mother, holding her hands. They had been fully aware of the danger in which the ship had been placed, and they had together been offering up their prayers for their own safety and for that of all on board.

Peter Patch, finding himself near Willy, whispered that he should like to go and see how Ensign Holt had behaved himself. He would have found the ensign seated on the deck of his cabin with his bed-clothes pulled over his head, much too alarmed to think, or to utter any sounds but “Oh! oh! oh! what is going to happen? Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, I wish I had not come!”

The other officers had collected in the main cabin, where Captain Power had taken his seat at the head of the table, giving encouragement to those around him, while their well-disciplined men, according to orders, kept to their quarters, the sergeants moving among them to see that no one went on deck. Mrs Rumbelow had taken the poor women under her charge, and did her best to comfort them.

“I told you so,” she exclaimed, when the ship was found to be moving easily forward, and those fearful grating sounds had ceased. “Just trust in God, and all will come right. Never cry out that all is lost while there is life, and even at the last moment hope that a way of deliverance may be found.”

The wind had increased, the courses had been taken off the ship, and she stood out under her topsails. It might have been supposed that nothing particular had occurred. All hands were at their stations, however, both watches being kept on deck; indeed, no one, even the most careless, felt inclined to go below.

The commander was walking the poop, awaiting the report of the carpenter; he had taken one or two turns, when a figure approached him.

“I don’t like the state of things,” said a voice which he recognised as that of Mr Chisel. “The ship is making water very rapidly; it’s coming in in several places, though the worst leaks are for’ard.”

“We must do our best to stop them, however,” answered the commander. “And, Mr Chisel, do not let more than necessary know this.” The first-lieutenant and master instantly hurried below to assist the carpenter in discovering the leaks. That they were high up seemed certain, and thus some hope existed that they might be reached. In time the chief injuries were discovered, and every effort was made to stop the leaks, old sails and blankets being used for the purpose. The pumps were immediately manned by the soldiers, who were told off to work them. Their clanking sound echoed along the decks, while, at the same time, the loud gush of the clear water rushing through the scuppers gave fearful proof of the large amount which must be rushing in. How eagerly all on board longed for daylight. The wind, however, was rising, and the ship heeled over on the side which had received the injury; she was accordingly put on the other tack, although it would take her out of her proper course.

All on board felt it to be a solemn time. The only sounds heard were those of the clanking pumps, and the gush of water as it was forced up from below. The wind was every instant increasing. The topsails were closely reefed, and the “Ranger” went plunging on into the fast-rising seas.

At length the cold light of early morn broke on the countenances of the crew; many looked pale and haggard. The past hours had been trying ones, and the soldiers, some in their shirts and trousers only, were labouring away manfully at the pumps; the crew at their stations, ready to obey the commands which any sudden emergency might demand. At length the carpenter reported that he had so far conquered the leaks that the ship might safely be put again on the port tack.

“Helm a-lee!” was heard. “Shift tacks and sheets! Mainsail haul! of all haul!” shouted Commander Newcombe; but at that instant, before the words were well out of his mouth, while the yards were in the act of being swung round, a terrific blast laid the ship over, a heavy sea striking her at the same time. For an instant it seemed as if she would never rise again. Shrieks were heart! rising from the foaming waters under her lee; several poor fellows were seen struggling amid them. No help could be given; no boat would have lived in that sea, had there been time to lower one, before they had sunk for ever. Their fate might soon be that of all on board.

The commander, after a moment’s consultation with the first-lieutenant and master, had summoned the carpenter, who appeared directly afterwards with his crew and several picked men with axes in their hands. They stood round the mizen-mast. “Cut,” he cried. The mizen shrouds were severed, a few splinters were seen to fly from the mast, and over it fell into the seething sea. Still the ship did not rise. They sprang to the mainmast. “That, too, must go,” said the commander, and issued the order to cut. In another instant the tall mast fell into the sea. For a moment it seemed doubtful whether that would have any effect. Suddenly the ship rose with a violent motion to an even keel, carrying away, as she did so, her fore-topmast. The helm was put up. Onwards she flew before the still-increasing gale. The seas rolled savagely up with foaming crests, as if trying to overwhelm her. To attempt to heave her to without any after-sail would now be hopeless.

Willy Dicey, who had gone aft, heard the commander remark to the first-lieutenant, that he hoped the gale would not last long, as otherwise they might be driven in among the ice, which would be found in heavy packs to the south-east. “With a moderate breeze we might reach New Zealand in ten days or a fortnight,” he observed. “I trust we can keep the old ship afloat till then.”

“Chisel thinks the injuries very severe, though,” said the first-lieutenant; “still, with the aid of the soldiers, we can keep the pumps going without difficulty, and we may be thankful that we have them on board.”

All day long the “Ranger” ran on, the wind and sea rather increasing than in any way lessening. Night once more approached, but no sign appeared of the gale abating. The soldiers relieved each other bravely at the pumps. Had it not been for them, the seamen well knew that the ship must have gone down; for though they might have worked them well, their strength must in time have given in. Mrs Rumbelow continued her kind ministrations to the women and children below; she had a word, too, for the seamen and soldiers, who were allowed half-a-watch at a time to take some rest. “You see, laddies,” she observed, “how you can all help each other. If the ship is to be kept afloat, and our lives saved, it will be by all working together with a will; you soldiers, by labouring at the pumps, and the sailors by taking care of the ship. If all do their duty there’s he fear, boys. I only wish people could learn the same in the everyday concerns of life—the world would get on much more happily than it does.”

While the sea continued rolling and the ship tumbling about, there were no hopes of getting up jury-masts. That night was even more trying than the previous one. It was not quite so dark, for now and then the clouds cleared away, and the bright stars shone forth; but still it was impossible to say whether some big iceberg might not be ahead, or whether the ship might not be driven into the midst of a field of ice, which would be scarcely less dangerous. All night long she ran on before the gale. It would be hopeless to attempt bringing her on a wind while the storm continued, and yet she was running into unknown dangers. Before, when she almost ran into the iceberg, she had had her masts standing, and was under easy steering canvas; now, with her after-masts gone, should an iceberg rise in her course, it would be scarcely possible for her to escape it.

Not a single officer of the ship, and but few of the men, went below that night. The military officers took their turn at the pumps to relieve their men; for, although so many were ready for the duty, so great was the exertion required, that they could continue at it but a few minutes together. As soon as one man was knocked up, another sprang into his place.

Another day dawned. It is easy to imagine how anxiously the night had been spent by all on board, especially by the poor ladies and soldiers’ wives. Happy were those who knew the power and effect of prayer. Wonderfully had they been supported. Those who knew not how to pray had been seated with hands clasped, or lying down with their heads covered up, endeavouring to shut out all thought of the future. Mrs Morley and her daughters had remained in their cabin, calm, though not unmoved, visited every now and then by the colonel; yet he could afford them but little consolation with regard to the safety of the ship. All he could say was that the men were doing their duty, and that they must hope for the best.

Ensign Holt had been missed by his brother officers, and roused up, not very gently, and had been compelled to take his turn at the pumps. He ought to have been very much obliged to them, as those are best off who are actively engaged in times of danger, though he grumbled considerably, declaring that it was not in the articles of war, and that he did not see why he should be made to work at the pumps like the common men.

As the day advanced, though the weather remained thick and lowering, the wind began to abate; yet the sea ran still very high, and the ship laboured greatly. The seamen were making preparations, however, to set up jury-masts, the carpenter and his crew were busy in lashing the spars together for the purpose, and the boatswain and his party in preparing the rigging; but while the ship continued pitching and rolling as she was then doing, it would be impossible to set up the masts. “I often wished to encounter a gale of wind,” observed Peter Patch to Willy; “but, to confess the honest truth, now I know what it is, especially in these cold regions, I would rather have been excused.”

Chapter Six.More Ice.Hopes of escape—Harry’s advice to Willy—Among icebergs—wonderful appearance of ice islands—Getting up jury-masts—Drifting towards an iceberg—The icebergs moving—The ship strikes a berg—Consternation of passengers—The soldiers at the pumps—Ship driven stern-on to a berg—Fearful damage received—A slant of wind takes her off—The leaks increasing—Stores hove overboard—Jury-masts carried away—Attempts to stop the leaks—Matters become worse—An anxious night—The water gains on the leaks.The “Ranger” had been running on for another night. Though the wind had fallen, there was too much sea to attempt rigging jury-masts, or heaving her to. The weather had been tolerably clear, and a bright look-out being kept, it was hoped that, should icebergs appear ahead, they might be seen in sufficient time to steer clear of them. During the whole time the commander had not gone below; indeed none of the officers had turned in, and a few only of the men had taken short snatches of sleep. Not for a moment had the clanging pumps ceased to work. At frequent intervals the carpenter had sounded the well, and reported that they were greatly gaining on the leaks.“I hope, Willy, you will still be able to write home a long yarn of our adventures,” said Harry Shafto, as they stood together on the deck. “The sea has gone down considerably during the last two hours, and if we can pump the ship clear we may yet stop the leaks, get jury-masts up, and reach New Zealand not long after the time we were due.”“I hope so,” said Willy, who was feeling somewhat worn-out, and whose spirits for a midshipman were getting unusually low. “I cannot help thinking of the poor fellows who were washed overboard, and thankful I ought to be that I was not among them. I was holding on when one of the men who was making his way for’ard was carried off by the sea. I know I wish that it was daylight.”“It will soon come,” said Harry, “and we shall get the ship to rights; and with regard to those poor fellows, I would not tell you not to think about them, but that their fate should teach us always to be ready. If we are so, we shall never fear to face danger.”“By the by, Willy, I wish to report your conduct to the commander. I find that it was your sharp eyes that first discovered the iceberg from which we so providentially escaped.”“Thank you,” said Willy; “but I was only just doing my duty in keeping a bright look-out.”“Exactly,” said Harry; “that’s the utmost we can do, and all that is expected of any man; just go on, Willy, doing that, and you’ll do well. But see, there is a light streak in the horizon; the clouds are clearing away. Though the ocean looks black enough at present, it will soon be sparkling with brightness.”The two friends made their way along the deck to the forecastle, where they found the officers who were stationed there eagerly looking out. One declared that he saw land ahead. “If it is, daylight will soon show it,” observed another. While the discussion was going on, the sea seemed on a sudden to go down, and the ship glided on in comparatively smooth water.“It may or may not be land ahead,” exclaimed the master; “but I tell you what—we are under the lee of a large field of ice, and it is a mercy we did not run on it in the dark. See, there! What do you think of that?”Stretching far round in the eastern horizon, appeared a white line, clearly marked on the dark ocean. All hands were now called and set to work to get up jury-masts. Every one worked with a will, from the smallest boy on board. No time was to be lost. The soldiers were summoned on deck to lend a hand in pulling and hauling. Gradually the light increased, and, as it did so, the work went on more rapidly. Willy had but little time to look about him, but he could not help every now and then glancing towards the east, which was now illuminated by a rich, ruddy glow, extending far and wide, gradually melting into a yellow tint, that again vanished in the dark-blue sky overhead. Presently the sun itself rose out of the ocean, at first like a fiery arch, till, springing rapidly upwards, the whole circle appeared in view. Just then he turned his eyes to the right. He could not refrain from uttering an exclamation of astonishment; for there appeared, not a mile away to the westward, what seemed like a vast island of alabaster, covered with countless edifices—towers and columns, and embattled walls, glowing with numberless brilliant and varied hues. Colonel Morley, who had just then come on deck, observed it also, and pointing it out to the commander, hastened below to summon his wife and daughters to witness the beautiful spectacle. Commander Newcombe’s countenance did not show that he was as pleased with the sight as the colonel had apparently been. Casting an anxious glance round, he summoned the first-lieutenant to his side, who seemed to be holding earnest conversation with him. Willy, who had gone aft on some duty, heard the latter remark, “We are embayed, sir, there is no doubt about it. All we can hope for is a breeze from the southward to get out again.” Willy heard no more.“Oh, how beautiful! oh, how magnificent!” exclaimed the Miss Morleys, as they reached the deck; “it is worth making a voyage to witness such a scene as that!”Willy could now observe what he had only before partially seen. The whole ocean to the west was ofa deep-purple hue, from out of which rose several superb icebergs; some could not have been less than a third of a mile in length, and from two to three hundred feet in height. The sides of one appeared perfectly smooth, as if carefully chiselled all over. In one of the nearest were seen bold projecting bluffs, with deep caverns beyond, into which the sea forced its way, rushing out again with a loud sound. On the summits of others appeared the towers and pinnacles, the ruined arches and buttressed walls, which had at first caught Willy’s sight. It seemed, indeed, as if a large city of alabaster had once stood there, reduced to ruins by a convulsion of nature. Here appeared huge piles of buildings grouped together, with long lanes and streets winding irregularly through them, with what had been the citadel rising in their midst. As the sun rose, the whole mass became bathed in a red light. No words, however, can convey a full idea of the beauty and grandeur of the spectacle.“I was thinking for a moment that I should like to get out my drawing-book and colour-box,” said Emma Morley to her sister; “but I am sure it would be impossible to do anything like justice to such a scene.”“Those who have not witnessed it would believe that you had taken a painter’s licence,” answered her sister; “and yet I believe that you might produce a very fair idea of the scene. Let me go and get your drawing things.”Mrs Morley was afraid her daughters might suffer from the cold if they remained much longer on deck. Cloaks were, however, brought, and what her parents considered a masterly sketch was quickly produced by their young daughter. Little did they think at the time of the dangerous position in which the ship was still placed.While the drawing was going on, numerous sea-birds were seen to be passing in and out of the caverns, now plunging down into the ocean to seek their breakfasts, now rising again and pitching upon the icy points and pinnacles as if they were their accustomed home.“Don’t you think we have drawn nearer to that magnificent iceberg?” said Fanny to her sister.“Yes, I am almost sure we have,” was the answer. “Papa, what do you think?”“It is possible, but perhaps the changing light may have deceived us; it is difficult to calculate distances in this atmosphere.”As may be supposed, they had been several times interrupted by the crew, who now and then came by leading aft the stays of the mast now at length set up. Scarcely any of the men cast more than a momentary glance at the icebergs, but this glance showed that they looked on them with no favourable eyes. All the time, too, it must be remembered, the pumps were kept clanking away as before. No human beings ever worked harder than the crew of the “Ranger;” they well knew, indeed, that they were labouring for their lives. Hour after hour passed by—there was no knocking off even for breakfast; it would be time enough to take their food when the sails were spread, and the ship was standing away from the beautiful but fearfully dangerous icebergs.By the time the sun had risen high in the sky the water around had become of a dark-green hue, and now not only icebergs and the distant fields of ice were seen, but vast masses of drift ice were observed floating about. Already two or three yards had been got across, and the sails were being bent.Willy found himself close to his friend Harry. “Shafto, you look unusually grave,” he observed; “you seem pretty well knocked up.”“We all of us have reason to be grave,” answered Harry; “there is evidently a strong in-draught towards that big berg, and unless we can get the sails bent and a breeze to take us off, no human power can save us from driving against it, and then we shall be worse off than we were when we struck the berg the other night.”“But don’t you think we shall get the sails bent in time?” asked Willy.“We may get the sails bent, but the wind to fill them may not come; we must depend on Heaven’s mercy for that.”Harry Shafto would not generally have spoken so despondingly, but he was well-nigh worn-out; and yet he probably did not see matters in a worse light than most of the other officers.The passengers had been sometime before summoned below to breakfast, and only the crew and soldiers engaged in active duty remained on deck. They were all working away as hard as ever.The foremast, which had stood, had been well stayed, and a fresh fore-topmast had also been got up. The captain and officers were watching anxiously for a breeze. It came at length from the southward. Sail was made, the ship was put before the wind, and it seemed that she was now about to move out of her dangerous position. “Let the people go below and get their breakfasts, Mr Tobin,” said the commander to the first-lieutenant; “they are well-nigh knocked up, and may still have heavy work before them.” The boatswain’s whistle was soon heard piping to the welcome meal, and the men gladly hurried below, though with less of the elasticity which they exhibited generally on such occasions.The lofty icebergs were still dangerously near on the port side. Shafto and Willy, who had snatched a hurried meal in the midshipmen’s berth, were quickly again on deck, as were indeed many of the officers and men, those who had remained on duty going below. The ship made but slow way. In the far distance could still be seen a field of ice, which had hitherto sheltered them from the tumbling sea, which came in from the north-east; several large pieces were also floating about, and it required much watchful care to avoid them. But the chief danger evidently lay from the icebergs to the west; they, too, it appeared, were slowly moving and slightly changing their relative positions. The most northern of a line of bergs was much the largest, its summit towering far above the ship’s masts. The anxious glances which the commander and first-lieutenant occasionally cast towards it showed that they wished they were farther off. Still, as Willy looked over the side, and saw the calm waters and the clear space ahead, he could not fancy but that the ship would soon be out in the open sea. “I shall be quite sorry to lose sight of these beautiful icebergs,” he observed to Shafto; “it may be a long time before we again shall see anything like them.”“And I shall be very thankful to bid farewell to them for ever,” answered Harry. “Just fancy what it would be to have the ship driven in under one of them. Should there be any sea at the time she would speedily be ground to pieces, or, as sometimes happens, the whole mass might come tumbling over and crush her, without a prospect of a human being on board escaping.”“Very dreadful!” said Willy; “and I am thankful there is no chance, of that. In another ten minutes we shall be well clear of them.”“I hope so,” said Harry; but still he looked grave.They had just then reached the forecastle, where the master was standing.Though the ship was moving on parallel to the side of the berg, the in-draught was evidently carrying her nearer and nearer it. The master had gone on to the end of the bowsprit, where he stood holding on by the stay, and looking anxiously ahead; still it seemed as if no danger need be apprehended.“What can the master be looking out for?” asked Peter Patch, who had just then come up to Willy; “we are all right enough at last.”The words were scarcely out of the young midshipman’s mouth when a loud crash was heard. The ship trembled from stem to stern, and it appeared as if the masts were going by the board. Orders were instantly given to brace round the yards, so as to box the ship off. In so doing she made a stern-board, and drove rapidly in towards the berg. The sound of the first shock had brought all hands on deck. For a moment discipline was well-nigh lost: the soldiers, women, and children came rushing up from below, the poor women frantically shrieking and clinging to their husbands; even some of the seamen, who understood the danger, evidently thought that all hope was gone. The passengers, too, came hurrying up out of their cabins, with dismay on their countenances. Their alarm was still further increased when, in another instant, the stern of the ship struck with tremendous force against the mass of ice concealed below the surface; it seemed indeed as if the stern was completely stove in. At this juncture the voice of Colonel Morley was heard ordering the soldiers below. “Take your wives with you, and remain till you receive fresh orders; they will be safer there than on deck,” he exclaimed.“To your stations, men,” shouted Commander Newcombe. “We are not going to lose the ship yet.”The officers hurrying among the men soon brought them back to a sense of their duty. It was found, however, that the damage the ship had received was very severe. The rudder had been torn from its position; the starboard tiller rope had been carried away, and the neck of the rudder was wrenched off so as to render it unserviceable. Believing tackles were at once applied to the tiller, in hopes that the rudder might be made to work; but after several attempts it was found to be utterly useless. In vain were the yards braced round. Without the use of the rudder the ship could not be got sufficiently off to give her head-way. Slowly she continued to drive towards the monstrous berg, which threatened, should she strike it, to overwhelm her in an instant.“A slight shift of wind would take her off,” observed the first-lieutenant to the commander.“I pray that it may come, then,” was the answer.Again and again the ship struck, evidently on each occasion receiving fearful damage. The soldiers who had been stationed at the pumps had knocked off, forgetting their duty in their alarm, when the ship first struck. The officers now went among them, and urged them to return; Colonel Morley had himself, however, to go before his orders were obeyed. The carpenter, who had been sent to sound the well, reported two feet in the hold. “We may keep that under,” observed the commander, “if the men do their duty.”Mrs Rumbelow was not idle all this time. She had been from the first tending to the other women; but when she found that the men were inclined not to obey orders, she was in their midst in an instant. “What, my lads!” she exclaimed; “is this like you, to let the ship sink with your wives and children, and the good colonel, and his lady and daughters, and not do your best to keep her afloat? Shame on you! I would not have believed it if it had been told me!” In another moment the pumps were heard clanking away, and sending out the water as rapidly as before.The ship was moving at a fearfully rapid rate towards the side of the vast iceberg. The crew, after the first alarm had subsided, exerted themselves manfully, and arrangements were being made for the dreaded encounter. Spars were got out and secured to the sides and quarters, but still some hope remained that the wind might catch her headsails, and pay her off in time to avoid it. Every instant, however, that hope lessened, and on she drove, stern foremost, till the summit of the berg appeared almost overhead. Close at hand was seen, between two bluffs, a vast cavern, into which it seemed more than probable that the ship would drive, and if so, her escape would be impossible.Such moments try the stoutest hearts. Many countenances became pale, and some eyes were turned away from the danger; but the commander and officers faced it boldly, while the crew remained steadily at their stations. Willy Dicey fully understood the terrific danger in which they were placed. He looked at the blue sky, at the sun shining brightly, at the waters dancing gaily, and he thought of the loved ones at home, and of the little prospect which existed of their ever hearing of him again. But, boy though he was, even his young heart did not quail; he was at the post of duty, he knew that; and he knew that there was One all-powerful watching over him, who would carry him safely through the danger, if He thought fit.Nearer and nearer the “Ranger” drew to the iceberg—the bravest held their breath as they saw that she must inevitably strike. Then came a fearful crash. So perpendicular was the side of the berg that the stern davits drove right against it. The stern boat was crushed in, a portion of the taffrail and the upper part of the spar-deck bulwarks wrenched off. It seemed as if the whole stern of the ship was about to be carried away. Her larboard quarter next came in contact with the ice, but the severity of the shock saved her; for after the damage which has been described was received, she again bounded off with a cant to starboard. The jib was instantly run up, and it and the other headsails catching the wind, away she glided from the berg. Those who had their eyes turned aft, however, could not refrain from uttering a cry of horror, for at that instant the berg, shaken by the concussion, threatened to fall over and crush them. From its summit down came rushing an avalanche of ice and snow, a portion of the mass even striking the poop. Still the ship glided on; the after-sails were trimmed, and again she was clear of another threatened danger. Yet, with the rudder gone, her stern crushed in, with numberless rents in her side, and two of her masts carried away, the “Ranger” was indeed in a perilous condition.The first thing to be done was to get the rudder repaired. The breeze had increased, and rendered the operation difficult. The weather, too, had far from a satisfactory appearance. Whatever Commander Newcombe thought of the prospect of ultimately saving the ship, he was not the man to relax in his efforts till the last. It was no easy matter to steer the ship while the rudder was being repaired; the only means of doing so was by keeping the yards swinging to and fro, in order to direct the ship’s head towards the opening between the bergs.Mrs Rumbelow insisted on lending a hand in pulling and hauling. “Why, boys,” she exclaimed, “I can do it as well as any of you, and I don’t see why a woman should be idle because she is a woman.” She well knew that by acting thus she should assist in keeping up the men’s spirits.At length the rudder was shipped, but even then it could be only worked by relieving tackles, which required a number of hands for the purpose.The carpenter had been so busy with the rudder that he had not for some time sounded the well. He now did so.“Are we keeping the leaks under, Mr Chisel?” asked the commander, when he came to make his report.“No, sir, I am sorry to say we are not,” he answered. “There are three feet of water in the hold, and I fear, from the damages the ship has received, that no power can keep her afloat much longer. If we cannot repair them, you know, sir, that it won’t be for want of our doing our best.”“I am very sure of that, Mr Chisel, and hope that we may still overcome the leaks, if the sea continues tolerably smooth,” observed the commander. “But we must not let the pumps be idle.” He said this in a cheerful tone, that those who overheard the carpenter’s report might not lose heart.The ship was now standing out clear of the ice, and being thus more exposed than before to the sea, which rolled in from the northward, began to labour heavily. In a short time the carpenter again reported that the water had gained another foot on the pumps in spite of the incessant way they had been kept going. The commander now summoned the superior officers round him, though what was said was not generally known. The first-lieutenant instantly collecting a party of men, led them between-decks, where, aided by some of the soldiers, they at once set to work to heave overboard such heavy stores and provisions as could be got at. Everything that had been received at the Cape was thrown overboard. The purser was in despair. “Remember, Tobin,” he observed, “we have got all these mouths to feed. We may as well drown at first as starve.”“You are right, purser,” answered the first-lieutenant. “We will get up what provisions we can, and place them on the upper deck. They will soon be destroyed if they remain where they are.”At length the ship got clear of the ice, and now the crew were piped below to snatch a hasty meal, those only required to work the rudder and the pump gangs remaining on duty. Matters did not change much till the sun went down in a bank of dark clouds, its rays casting a ruddy glow across the western sky. As darkness came on, the wind increased, the waters becoming covered with crests of foam, which danced and hissed around the ship. No one could be ignorant of their dangerous position; but in spite of it, most of the weary seamen and soldiers not actually on duty turned into their berths to sleep. The officers did so likewise, though they were aware that it might perhaps be the last sleep they should ever enjoy. Two persons, however, did not for a moment retire to their berths, the commander of the ship and the colonel of the regiment. Both felt that the lives of the people under them had been committed to their charge. The commander remained on deck to take advantage of any change for the better which might occur, or to guard against any fresh accident; and the colonel, that he might go among his men labouring at the pumps, and encourage them to persevere in their duty. The hammocks had been piped down as usual, and most of the men turned into them all standing. Willy Dicey had done the same, though, weary as he was, he could not for some time go to sleep—an unusual event in a midshipman’s career. He was thinking of home and the loved ones there, and those voyaging like himself; and when he did sleep, he continued dreaming of, that same home, and of his brother and sisters, now probably far distant from it. He fancied in his troubled dreams that he saw their ship tempest-tossed. Now her masts and yards were shattered. Onward she drove towards a rocky shore. He was there himself; he stretched out his arms, imploring them to keep at a distance. Still on came the ship; her destruction seemed inevitable. Wildly he waved his arms—he shrieked loudly. A dreadful crash was heard—the ship was split into a thousand fragments. He awoke. That loud crash rang in his ears; he sprang from his hammock, and rushed on deck. One of the jury-masts had gone.Morning was breaking, the faint grey light exhibiting the destruction which had taken place, and the wild leaden-coloured sea, which rose in foaming billows around, now leaping here, now there, threatening destruction to the ship. At the same moment the boatswain’s whistle sounded shrilly, calling all hands on deck. While one party was endeavouring to secure the jury-mast which had been carried away, another was employed in fothering a sail: this, filled with oakum, was lowered over the bows and drawn under the keel, where it was hoped the water rushing in would suck it into the leaks, and thus contribute to stop them. It seemed, however, to have but little effect.“We must try another sail,” said the commander. The sail was prepared, and, like the first, with great difficulty dragged under the ship’s bottom. The seamen employed in the work were drenched to the skin by the heavy seas which frequently broke over the hapless ship; still they persevered, no one flinching from the work. Harry Shafto attracted the notice of the commander by his activity. Willy Dicey imitated him to the best of his power. Although not so strong as a man, by his intelligence and comprehension of what was to be done he was able to direct others, and thus rendered good service.“I say, Dicey,” exclaimed Peter Patch, who was standing near him, “do you think really the ship will go down? I feel awfully queer. I wish that I’d followed your advice about some things long ago. I should like to say my prayers, but I don’t know how to begin, and there isn’t time for it now.”“That’s it,” answered Willy. “Had you said them morning and night, and not have been afraid of our messmates laughing at you, you would have known how to say them even while you are hard at work. I don’t think God would be well pleased if we all were to knock off, and go down on our knees to pray and ask Him for help while we were neglecting to help ourselves.”“I must work now, at all events,” said Peter.“Of course you must,” answered Willy, “or praying would be mockery; but you can pray out of your heart while you are pulling and hauling, or while you are running along the deck with a message.”“I daresay you are right, Dicey,” sighed Peter; “but it’s very terrible. I had no thought, when we left England, that we should get into such a scrape as this. For what I see, we may all be drowned, or be driven on those fearful icebergs, and be frozen to death before many days are over.”“Very true, Peter. I have been thinking the same; but it is our duty to struggle to the end—first to try and save the ship, and then our own lives.”Matters did not mend as the day advanced. Again and again the carpenter sounded the well, and reported that the water had rather increased than diminished. The after-part of the deck was now scuttled, so that more provisions and stores could be got up and hove overboard. The pumps continued to be worked as energetically as at first, but still the water gained on them, till it reached the orlop-deck.The fearful condition of the ship could no longer be concealed from the people. Even the most sanguine began to lose heart. Many cast wistful glances at the boats. Notwithstanding this, the commander kept them labouring at the pumps, still hoping against hope that the wind and sea might go down, and that the ship might be kept afloat. At length, however, some of the crew showed signs of giving in. Willy saw several of them steal off to hide themselves away, but he instantly followed and drove them up again; they grumbled, but obeyed.“What’s the use of working when we shall have to go to the bottom in a few hours?” exclaimed one.“I only wish we had a chance of getting to the spirit room,” cried another. “A short life and a merry one for me.”“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” cried the young midshipman. “Are you men with souls, and do you wish to die like dogs?” The seamen, astonished at a mere boy thus addressing them, felt ashamed, and returned to their duty. Others, however, soon afterwards were seen behaving in the same manner. Willy, falling in with Mr Bolland, reported what he had observed.“We will soon put a stop to that,” observed the boatswain, seizing a rope’s end. He was not long in hunting out the fellows.The water continuing to rise, the poor women and children were now collected on the poop cabins.There they sat, crouching down on the deck, holding their children in their arms, and hiding their pallid faces. Mrs Rumbelow was the only one who remained calm. She might have been a little more excited than usual, as she went among them, trying to cheer them up. “Do not be downhearted, my dear women,” she exclaimed. “There is a God in heaven, remember, who takes care of us. He may make the storm to cease, and keep the old ship afloat notwithstanding all the leaks she has got in her bottom. Do you think the men of our regiment are not going to do their duty, and work away at the pumps as long as the pumps will work? If they do not, we will go and handle them ourselves, and put them to shame. Hurrah, lasses! you think better of your young husbands than to suppose that, and we old ones have tried ours, and know that they will not shirk their duty.” Still, though Mrs Rumbelow spoke thus cheerfully, she had a heavy weight at her heart. She had been too often at sea not to know the danger the ship was in, and she observed no signs of the weather improving.The night was again drawing on; Commander Newcombe had done his utmost. The ship was kept under easy sail, to relieve her as much as possible. He would get another sail fothered, which might help to keep out the water a few hours longer. “Should that fail,” he observed to Mr Tobin, “we must get the boats ready, and endeavour to save the lives of as many as they can hold.”“Too true, sir,” was the answer. “I see no other prospect for us.”“We must trust in God, Mr Tobin; He is our only hope,” observed the commander with a sigh.Darkness came down once more upon the hapless ship as she lay rolling and pitching heavily in that cold antarctic sea. The pumps kept clanking away the whole night; the gush of water was heard even amid the roar of the waves, as it rushed from her sides. The men crouched down in groups at their stations in different parts of the ship, many a stout heart knowing full well that at any moment the fearful cry might be heard, “She is sinking! she is sinking!”The colonel was in his cabin with his wife and daughters. Captain Power sat at the table reading, or endeavouring to read, and every now and then addressing a few remarks to the officers around him. They were mostly behaving as English gentlemen generally do behave under such circumstances, with calm courage, ready to perform any duty which might be required of them. The only person who did not show his face was the unhappy Ensign Holt, who kept himself shut up in his cabin for most of the time. Now and then he appeared, with a pale face, to inquire whether the leaks were being got under; and on being told that they were still gaining on the pumps, he rushed back again, with a look of dismay on his countenance.

The “Ranger” had been running on for another night. Though the wind had fallen, there was too much sea to attempt rigging jury-masts, or heaving her to. The weather had been tolerably clear, and a bright look-out being kept, it was hoped that, should icebergs appear ahead, they might be seen in sufficient time to steer clear of them. During the whole time the commander had not gone below; indeed none of the officers had turned in, and a few only of the men had taken short snatches of sleep. Not for a moment had the clanging pumps ceased to work. At frequent intervals the carpenter had sounded the well, and reported that they were greatly gaining on the leaks.

“I hope, Willy, you will still be able to write home a long yarn of our adventures,” said Harry Shafto, as they stood together on the deck. “The sea has gone down considerably during the last two hours, and if we can pump the ship clear we may yet stop the leaks, get jury-masts up, and reach New Zealand not long after the time we were due.”

“I hope so,” said Willy, who was feeling somewhat worn-out, and whose spirits for a midshipman were getting unusually low. “I cannot help thinking of the poor fellows who were washed overboard, and thankful I ought to be that I was not among them. I was holding on when one of the men who was making his way for’ard was carried off by the sea. I know I wish that it was daylight.”

“It will soon come,” said Harry, “and we shall get the ship to rights; and with regard to those poor fellows, I would not tell you not to think about them, but that their fate should teach us always to be ready. If we are so, we shall never fear to face danger.”

“By the by, Willy, I wish to report your conduct to the commander. I find that it was your sharp eyes that first discovered the iceberg from which we so providentially escaped.”

“Thank you,” said Willy; “but I was only just doing my duty in keeping a bright look-out.”

“Exactly,” said Harry; “that’s the utmost we can do, and all that is expected of any man; just go on, Willy, doing that, and you’ll do well. But see, there is a light streak in the horizon; the clouds are clearing away. Though the ocean looks black enough at present, it will soon be sparkling with brightness.”

The two friends made their way along the deck to the forecastle, where they found the officers who were stationed there eagerly looking out. One declared that he saw land ahead. “If it is, daylight will soon show it,” observed another. While the discussion was going on, the sea seemed on a sudden to go down, and the ship glided on in comparatively smooth water.

“It may or may not be land ahead,” exclaimed the master; “but I tell you what—we are under the lee of a large field of ice, and it is a mercy we did not run on it in the dark. See, there! What do you think of that?”

Stretching far round in the eastern horizon, appeared a white line, clearly marked on the dark ocean. All hands were now called and set to work to get up jury-masts. Every one worked with a will, from the smallest boy on board. No time was to be lost. The soldiers were summoned on deck to lend a hand in pulling and hauling. Gradually the light increased, and, as it did so, the work went on more rapidly. Willy had but little time to look about him, but he could not help every now and then glancing towards the east, which was now illuminated by a rich, ruddy glow, extending far and wide, gradually melting into a yellow tint, that again vanished in the dark-blue sky overhead. Presently the sun itself rose out of the ocean, at first like a fiery arch, till, springing rapidly upwards, the whole circle appeared in view. Just then he turned his eyes to the right. He could not refrain from uttering an exclamation of astonishment; for there appeared, not a mile away to the westward, what seemed like a vast island of alabaster, covered with countless edifices—towers and columns, and embattled walls, glowing with numberless brilliant and varied hues. Colonel Morley, who had just then come on deck, observed it also, and pointing it out to the commander, hastened below to summon his wife and daughters to witness the beautiful spectacle. Commander Newcombe’s countenance did not show that he was as pleased with the sight as the colonel had apparently been. Casting an anxious glance round, he summoned the first-lieutenant to his side, who seemed to be holding earnest conversation with him. Willy, who had gone aft on some duty, heard the latter remark, “We are embayed, sir, there is no doubt about it. All we can hope for is a breeze from the southward to get out again.” Willy heard no more.

“Oh, how beautiful! oh, how magnificent!” exclaimed the Miss Morleys, as they reached the deck; “it is worth making a voyage to witness such a scene as that!”

Willy could now observe what he had only before partially seen. The whole ocean to the west was ofa deep-purple hue, from out of which rose several superb icebergs; some could not have been less than a third of a mile in length, and from two to three hundred feet in height. The sides of one appeared perfectly smooth, as if carefully chiselled all over. In one of the nearest were seen bold projecting bluffs, with deep caverns beyond, into which the sea forced its way, rushing out again with a loud sound. On the summits of others appeared the towers and pinnacles, the ruined arches and buttressed walls, which had at first caught Willy’s sight. It seemed, indeed, as if a large city of alabaster had once stood there, reduced to ruins by a convulsion of nature. Here appeared huge piles of buildings grouped together, with long lanes and streets winding irregularly through them, with what had been the citadel rising in their midst. As the sun rose, the whole mass became bathed in a red light. No words, however, can convey a full idea of the beauty and grandeur of the spectacle.

“I was thinking for a moment that I should like to get out my drawing-book and colour-box,” said Emma Morley to her sister; “but I am sure it would be impossible to do anything like justice to such a scene.”

“Those who have not witnessed it would believe that you had taken a painter’s licence,” answered her sister; “and yet I believe that you might produce a very fair idea of the scene. Let me go and get your drawing things.”

Mrs Morley was afraid her daughters might suffer from the cold if they remained much longer on deck. Cloaks were, however, brought, and what her parents considered a masterly sketch was quickly produced by their young daughter. Little did they think at the time of the dangerous position in which the ship was still placed.

While the drawing was going on, numerous sea-birds were seen to be passing in and out of the caverns, now plunging down into the ocean to seek their breakfasts, now rising again and pitching upon the icy points and pinnacles as if they were their accustomed home.

“Don’t you think we have drawn nearer to that magnificent iceberg?” said Fanny to her sister.

“Yes, I am almost sure we have,” was the answer. “Papa, what do you think?”

“It is possible, but perhaps the changing light may have deceived us; it is difficult to calculate distances in this atmosphere.”

As may be supposed, they had been several times interrupted by the crew, who now and then came by leading aft the stays of the mast now at length set up. Scarcely any of the men cast more than a momentary glance at the icebergs, but this glance showed that they looked on them with no favourable eyes. All the time, too, it must be remembered, the pumps were kept clanking away as before. No human beings ever worked harder than the crew of the “Ranger;” they well knew, indeed, that they were labouring for their lives. Hour after hour passed by—there was no knocking off even for breakfast; it would be time enough to take their food when the sails were spread, and the ship was standing away from the beautiful but fearfully dangerous icebergs.

By the time the sun had risen high in the sky the water around had become of a dark-green hue, and now not only icebergs and the distant fields of ice were seen, but vast masses of drift ice were observed floating about. Already two or three yards had been got across, and the sails were being bent.

Willy found himself close to his friend Harry. “Shafto, you look unusually grave,” he observed; “you seem pretty well knocked up.”

“We all of us have reason to be grave,” answered Harry; “there is evidently a strong in-draught towards that big berg, and unless we can get the sails bent and a breeze to take us off, no human power can save us from driving against it, and then we shall be worse off than we were when we struck the berg the other night.”

“But don’t you think we shall get the sails bent in time?” asked Willy.

“We may get the sails bent, but the wind to fill them may not come; we must depend on Heaven’s mercy for that.”

Harry Shafto would not generally have spoken so despondingly, but he was well-nigh worn-out; and yet he probably did not see matters in a worse light than most of the other officers.

The passengers had been sometime before summoned below to breakfast, and only the crew and soldiers engaged in active duty remained on deck. They were all working away as hard as ever.

The foremast, which had stood, had been well stayed, and a fresh fore-topmast had also been got up. The captain and officers were watching anxiously for a breeze. It came at length from the southward. Sail was made, the ship was put before the wind, and it seemed that she was now about to move out of her dangerous position. “Let the people go below and get their breakfasts, Mr Tobin,” said the commander to the first-lieutenant; “they are well-nigh knocked up, and may still have heavy work before them.” The boatswain’s whistle was soon heard piping to the welcome meal, and the men gladly hurried below, though with less of the elasticity which they exhibited generally on such occasions.

The lofty icebergs were still dangerously near on the port side. Shafto and Willy, who had snatched a hurried meal in the midshipmen’s berth, were quickly again on deck, as were indeed many of the officers and men, those who had remained on duty going below. The ship made but slow way. In the far distance could still be seen a field of ice, which had hitherto sheltered them from the tumbling sea, which came in from the north-east; several large pieces were also floating about, and it required much watchful care to avoid them. But the chief danger evidently lay from the icebergs to the west; they, too, it appeared, were slowly moving and slightly changing their relative positions. The most northern of a line of bergs was much the largest, its summit towering far above the ship’s masts. The anxious glances which the commander and first-lieutenant occasionally cast towards it showed that they wished they were farther off. Still, as Willy looked over the side, and saw the calm waters and the clear space ahead, he could not fancy but that the ship would soon be out in the open sea. “I shall be quite sorry to lose sight of these beautiful icebergs,” he observed to Shafto; “it may be a long time before we again shall see anything like them.”

“And I shall be very thankful to bid farewell to them for ever,” answered Harry. “Just fancy what it would be to have the ship driven in under one of them. Should there be any sea at the time she would speedily be ground to pieces, or, as sometimes happens, the whole mass might come tumbling over and crush her, without a prospect of a human being on board escaping.”

“Very dreadful!” said Willy; “and I am thankful there is no chance, of that. In another ten minutes we shall be well clear of them.”

“I hope so,” said Harry; but still he looked grave.

They had just then reached the forecastle, where the master was standing.

Though the ship was moving on parallel to the side of the berg, the in-draught was evidently carrying her nearer and nearer it. The master had gone on to the end of the bowsprit, where he stood holding on by the stay, and looking anxiously ahead; still it seemed as if no danger need be apprehended.

“What can the master be looking out for?” asked Peter Patch, who had just then come up to Willy; “we are all right enough at last.”

The words were scarcely out of the young midshipman’s mouth when a loud crash was heard. The ship trembled from stem to stern, and it appeared as if the masts were going by the board. Orders were instantly given to brace round the yards, so as to box the ship off. In so doing she made a stern-board, and drove rapidly in towards the berg. The sound of the first shock had brought all hands on deck. For a moment discipline was well-nigh lost: the soldiers, women, and children came rushing up from below, the poor women frantically shrieking and clinging to their husbands; even some of the seamen, who understood the danger, evidently thought that all hope was gone. The passengers, too, came hurrying up out of their cabins, with dismay on their countenances. Their alarm was still further increased when, in another instant, the stern of the ship struck with tremendous force against the mass of ice concealed below the surface; it seemed indeed as if the stern was completely stove in. At this juncture the voice of Colonel Morley was heard ordering the soldiers below. “Take your wives with you, and remain till you receive fresh orders; they will be safer there than on deck,” he exclaimed.

“To your stations, men,” shouted Commander Newcombe. “We are not going to lose the ship yet.”

The officers hurrying among the men soon brought them back to a sense of their duty. It was found, however, that the damage the ship had received was very severe. The rudder had been torn from its position; the starboard tiller rope had been carried away, and the neck of the rudder was wrenched off so as to render it unserviceable. Believing tackles were at once applied to the tiller, in hopes that the rudder might be made to work; but after several attempts it was found to be utterly useless. In vain were the yards braced round. Without the use of the rudder the ship could not be got sufficiently off to give her head-way. Slowly she continued to drive towards the monstrous berg, which threatened, should she strike it, to overwhelm her in an instant.

“A slight shift of wind would take her off,” observed the first-lieutenant to the commander.

“I pray that it may come, then,” was the answer.

Again and again the ship struck, evidently on each occasion receiving fearful damage. The soldiers who had been stationed at the pumps had knocked off, forgetting their duty in their alarm, when the ship first struck. The officers now went among them, and urged them to return; Colonel Morley had himself, however, to go before his orders were obeyed. The carpenter, who had been sent to sound the well, reported two feet in the hold. “We may keep that under,” observed the commander, “if the men do their duty.”

Mrs Rumbelow was not idle all this time. She had been from the first tending to the other women; but when she found that the men were inclined not to obey orders, she was in their midst in an instant. “What, my lads!” she exclaimed; “is this like you, to let the ship sink with your wives and children, and the good colonel, and his lady and daughters, and not do your best to keep her afloat? Shame on you! I would not have believed it if it had been told me!” In another moment the pumps were heard clanking away, and sending out the water as rapidly as before.

The ship was moving at a fearfully rapid rate towards the side of the vast iceberg. The crew, after the first alarm had subsided, exerted themselves manfully, and arrangements were being made for the dreaded encounter. Spars were got out and secured to the sides and quarters, but still some hope remained that the wind might catch her headsails, and pay her off in time to avoid it. Every instant, however, that hope lessened, and on she drove, stern foremost, till the summit of the berg appeared almost overhead. Close at hand was seen, between two bluffs, a vast cavern, into which it seemed more than probable that the ship would drive, and if so, her escape would be impossible.

Such moments try the stoutest hearts. Many countenances became pale, and some eyes were turned away from the danger; but the commander and officers faced it boldly, while the crew remained steadily at their stations. Willy Dicey fully understood the terrific danger in which they were placed. He looked at the blue sky, at the sun shining brightly, at the waters dancing gaily, and he thought of the loved ones at home, and of the little prospect which existed of their ever hearing of him again. But, boy though he was, even his young heart did not quail; he was at the post of duty, he knew that; and he knew that there was One all-powerful watching over him, who would carry him safely through the danger, if He thought fit.

Nearer and nearer the “Ranger” drew to the iceberg—the bravest held their breath as they saw that she must inevitably strike. Then came a fearful crash. So perpendicular was the side of the berg that the stern davits drove right against it. The stern boat was crushed in, a portion of the taffrail and the upper part of the spar-deck bulwarks wrenched off. It seemed as if the whole stern of the ship was about to be carried away. Her larboard quarter next came in contact with the ice, but the severity of the shock saved her; for after the damage which has been described was received, she again bounded off with a cant to starboard. The jib was instantly run up, and it and the other headsails catching the wind, away she glided from the berg. Those who had their eyes turned aft, however, could not refrain from uttering a cry of horror, for at that instant the berg, shaken by the concussion, threatened to fall over and crush them. From its summit down came rushing an avalanche of ice and snow, a portion of the mass even striking the poop. Still the ship glided on; the after-sails were trimmed, and again she was clear of another threatened danger. Yet, with the rudder gone, her stern crushed in, with numberless rents in her side, and two of her masts carried away, the “Ranger” was indeed in a perilous condition.

The first thing to be done was to get the rudder repaired. The breeze had increased, and rendered the operation difficult. The weather, too, had far from a satisfactory appearance. Whatever Commander Newcombe thought of the prospect of ultimately saving the ship, he was not the man to relax in his efforts till the last. It was no easy matter to steer the ship while the rudder was being repaired; the only means of doing so was by keeping the yards swinging to and fro, in order to direct the ship’s head towards the opening between the bergs.

Mrs Rumbelow insisted on lending a hand in pulling and hauling. “Why, boys,” she exclaimed, “I can do it as well as any of you, and I don’t see why a woman should be idle because she is a woman.” She well knew that by acting thus she should assist in keeping up the men’s spirits.

At length the rudder was shipped, but even then it could be only worked by relieving tackles, which required a number of hands for the purpose.

The carpenter had been so busy with the rudder that he had not for some time sounded the well. He now did so.

“Are we keeping the leaks under, Mr Chisel?” asked the commander, when he came to make his report.

“No, sir, I am sorry to say we are not,” he answered. “There are three feet of water in the hold, and I fear, from the damages the ship has received, that no power can keep her afloat much longer. If we cannot repair them, you know, sir, that it won’t be for want of our doing our best.”

“I am very sure of that, Mr Chisel, and hope that we may still overcome the leaks, if the sea continues tolerably smooth,” observed the commander. “But we must not let the pumps be idle.” He said this in a cheerful tone, that those who overheard the carpenter’s report might not lose heart.

The ship was now standing out clear of the ice, and being thus more exposed than before to the sea, which rolled in from the northward, began to labour heavily. In a short time the carpenter again reported that the water had gained another foot on the pumps in spite of the incessant way they had been kept going. The commander now summoned the superior officers round him, though what was said was not generally known. The first-lieutenant instantly collecting a party of men, led them between-decks, where, aided by some of the soldiers, they at once set to work to heave overboard such heavy stores and provisions as could be got at. Everything that had been received at the Cape was thrown overboard. The purser was in despair. “Remember, Tobin,” he observed, “we have got all these mouths to feed. We may as well drown at first as starve.”

“You are right, purser,” answered the first-lieutenant. “We will get up what provisions we can, and place them on the upper deck. They will soon be destroyed if they remain where they are.”

At length the ship got clear of the ice, and now the crew were piped below to snatch a hasty meal, those only required to work the rudder and the pump gangs remaining on duty. Matters did not change much till the sun went down in a bank of dark clouds, its rays casting a ruddy glow across the western sky. As darkness came on, the wind increased, the waters becoming covered with crests of foam, which danced and hissed around the ship. No one could be ignorant of their dangerous position; but in spite of it, most of the weary seamen and soldiers not actually on duty turned into their berths to sleep. The officers did so likewise, though they were aware that it might perhaps be the last sleep they should ever enjoy. Two persons, however, did not for a moment retire to their berths, the commander of the ship and the colonel of the regiment. Both felt that the lives of the people under them had been committed to their charge. The commander remained on deck to take advantage of any change for the better which might occur, or to guard against any fresh accident; and the colonel, that he might go among his men labouring at the pumps, and encourage them to persevere in their duty. The hammocks had been piped down as usual, and most of the men turned into them all standing. Willy Dicey had done the same, though, weary as he was, he could not for some time go to sleep—an unusual event in a midshipman’s career. He was thinking of home and the loved ones there, and those voyaging like himself; and when he did sleep, he continued dreaming of, that same home, and of his brother and sisters, now probably far distant from it. He fancied in his troubled dreams that he saw their ship tempest-tossed. Now her masts and yards were shattered. Onward she drove towards a rocky shore. He was there himself; he stretched out his arms, imploring them to keep at a distance. Still on came the ship; her destruction seemed inevitable. Wildly he waved his arms—he shrieked loudly. A dreadful crash was heard—the ship was split into a thousand fragments. He awoke. That loud crash rang in his ears; he sprang from his hammock, and rushed on deck. One of the jury-masts had gone.

Morning was breaking, the faint grey light exhibiting the destruction which had taken place, and the wild leaden-coloured sea, which rose in foaming billows around, now leaping here, now there, threatening destruction to the ship. At the same moment the boatswain’s whistle sounded shrilly, calling all hands on deck. While one party was endeavouring to secure the jury-mast which had been carried away, another was employed in fothering a sail: this, filled with oakum, was lowered over the bows and drawn under the keel, where it was hoped the water rushing in would suck it into the leaks, and thus contribute to stop them. It seemed, however, to have but little effect.

“We must try another sail,” said the commander. The sail was prepared, and, like the first, with great difficulty dragged under the ship’s bottom. The seamen employed in the work were drenched to the skin by the heavy seas which frequently broke over the hapless ship; still they persevered, no one flinching from the work. Harry Shafto attracted the notice of the commander by his activity. Willy Dicey imitated him to the best of his power. Although not so strong as a man, by his intelligence and comprehension of what was to be done he was able to direct others, and thus rendered good service.

“I say, Dicey,” exclaimed Peter Patch, who was standing near him, “do you think really the ship will go down? I feel awfully queer. I wish that I’d followed your advice about some things long ago. I should like to say my prayers, but I don’t know how to begin, and there isn’t time for it now.”

“That’s it,” answered Willy. “Had you said them morning and night, and not have been afraid of our messmates laughing at you, you would have known how to say them even while you are hard at work. I don’t think God would be well pleased if we all were to knock off, and go down on our knees to pray and ask Him for help while we were neglecting to help ourselves.”

“I must work now, at all events,” said Peter.

“Of course you must,” answered Willy, “or praying would be mockery; but you can pray out of your heart while you are pulling and hauling, or while you are running along the deck with a message.”

“I daresay you are right, Dicey,” sighed Peter; “but it’s very terrible. I had no thought, when we left England, that we should get into such a scrape as this. For what I see, we may all be drowned, or be driven on those fearful icebergs, and be frozen to death before many days are over.”

“Very true, Peter. I have been thinking the same; but it is our duty to struggle to the end—first to try and save the ship, and then our own lives.”

Matters did not mend as the day advanced. Again and again the carpenter sounded the well, and reported that the water had rather increased than diminished. The after-part of the deck was now scuttled, so that more provisions and stores could be got up and hove overboard. The pumps continued to be worked as energetically as at first, but still the water gained on them, till it reached the orlop-deck.

The fearful condition of the ship could no longer be concealed from the people. Even the most sanguine began to lose heart. Many cast wistful glances at the boats. Notwithstanding this, the commander kept them labouring at the pumps, still hoping against hope that the wind and sea might go down, and that the ship might be kept afloat. At length, however, some of the crew showed signs of giving in. Willy saw several of them steal off to hide themselves away, but he instantly followed and drove them up again; they grumbled, but obeyed.

“What’s the use of working when we shall have to go to the bottom in a few hours?” exclaimed one.

“I only wish we had a chance of getting to the spirit room,” cried another. “A short life and a merry one for me.”

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” cried the young midshipman. “Are you men with souls, and do you wish to die like dogs?” The seamen, astonished at a mere boy thus addressing them, felt ashamed, and returned to their duty. Others, however, soon afterwards were seen behaving in the same manner. Willy, falling in with Mr Bolland, reported what he had observed.

“We will soon put a stop to that,” observed the boatswain, seizing a rope’s end. He was not long in hunting out the fellows.

The water continuing to rise, the poor women and children were now collected on the poop cabins.

There they sat, crouching down on the deck, holding their children in their arms, and hiding their pallid faces. Mrs Rumbelow was the only one who remained calm. She might have been a little more excited than usual, as she went among them, trying to cheer them up. “Do not be downhearted, my dear women,” she exclaimed. “There is a God in heaven, remember, who takes care of us. He may make the storm to cease, and keep the old ship afloat notwithstanding all the leaks she has got in her bottom. Do you think the men of our regiment are not going to do their duty, and work away at the pumps as long as the pumps will work? If they do not, we will go and handle them ourselves, and put them to shame. Hurrah, lasses! you think better of your young husbands than to suppose that, and we old ones have tried ours, and know that they will not shirk their duty.” Still, though Mrs Rumbelow spoke thus cheerfully, she had a heavy weight at her heart. She had been too often at sea not to know the danger the ship was in, and she observed no signs of the weather improving.

The night was again drawing on; Commander Newcombe had done his utmost. The ship was kept under easy sail, to relieve her as much as possible. He would get another sail fothered, which might help to keep out the water a few hours longer. “Should that fail,” he observed to Mr Tobin, “we must get the boats ready, and endeavour to save the lives of as many as they can hold.”

“Too true, sir,” was the answer. “I see no other prospect for us.”

“We must trust in God, Mr Tobin; He is our only hope,” observed the commander with a sigh.

Darkness came down once more upon the hapless ship as she lay rolling and pitching heavily in that cold antarctic sea. The pumps kept clanking away the whole night; the gush of water was heard even amid the roar of the waves, as it rushed from her sides. The men crouched down in groups at their stations in different parts of the ship, many a stout heart knowing full well that at any moment the fearful cry might be heard, “She is sinking! she is sinking!”

The colonel was in his cabin with his wife and daughters. Captain Power sat at the table reading, or endeavouring to read, and every now and then addressing a few remarks to the officers around him. They were mostly behaving as English gentlemen generally do behave under such circumstances, with calm courage, ready to perform any duty which might be required of them. The only person who did not show his face was the unhappy Ensign Holt, who kept himself shut up in his cabin for most of the time. Now and then he appeared, with a pale face, to inquire whether the leaks were being got under; and on being told that they were still gaining on the pumps, he rushed back again, with a look of dismay on his countenance.

Chapter Seven.The “Crusader” in the Tropics.Fine weather—Lights on the ocean—Flying-fish come on board—Tropic-birds—A shark caught—Southern constellations—A calm—Fever breaks out—Deaths among the emigrants—Mr Paget’s activity—The Diceys assist the sick—Signs of a coming breeze—A gale comes on—Jack-o’-lantern—Job Mawson’s alarm—Reefs shaken out—A man overboard—Charles and Windy go off in boat—Boat lost sight of—Search in vain for the boat—Emily and May’s grief.Little did Charles Dicey and his sisters think of the fearful dangers to which their brother Willy was exposed. The “Crusader” sailed on over the smooth sea, with her white canvas spread out, towering to the sky, studding-sails on either side reaching to the very surface of the water.An awning had been spread over the after-part of the ship, and beneath it the cabin passengers assembled, sheltered from the hot rays of the sun. Neither Charles nor Mr Paget were ever idle, and their example generally induced many of their companions to work also. Mrs Clagget, if she did nothing else, always contrived to keep her tongue going. Emily and May were usually well employed. Their attention, however, was frequently called to the various objects which appeared around them. They enjoyed watching the flights of flying-fish which darted with the speed of arrows out of the water, hovered like birds in the air for a few seconds, scarcely touching the foam-crested seas, and then sunk quickly again beneath the surface. “How beautiful and blue are the reflections on their glittering wings, how transparent their tiny bodies, how light their movements!” observed Emily; “they look like ocean elves, as they float through the air. What a happy life they must lead—now in the pure ocean, now getting an uninterrupted sight of the glorious sun and the clear sky above them.”“They would have a very different tale to tell, Miss Dicey, if they could speak to you,” observed Mr Paget. “Could your eyes pierce through the surface, you would see some savage bonitos or dolphins pursuing the hapless fish who visit the air, not for amusement, but in the hopes of escaping from their persecutors.”Just then a large covey was seen to rise abeam close to the ship. They flew high into the air, and in an instant the deck was covered with their floundering bodies; their wings, dried by the heat of the sun, no longer spread out, they looked like ordinary fish.“Catch them, catch them,” cried Mrs Clagget; “they will make a delightful dish for dinner.”“Poor creatures—how unromantic you are,” said Emily.“I am practical, my dear. I pride myself on being practical,” answered Mrs Clagget. “I prefer eating them myself to allowing the dolphins to have them for their supper.” Jumbo, the cook’s mate, seemed to be of Mrs Clagget’s opinion, for in an instant he was among the poor fish, tumbling them into his bucket as fast as he could pick them up.“That’s a wise lad,” observed the loquacious lady. “If any of you happened to be in a boat far away from land without provisions, you would be very glad to have a dish of those fish fly on board.”“But we happen to have plenty of provisions, and are not in want of the poor fish,” said Charles. “However, if they were thrown overboard again, I suspect that they would have very little reason to thank us, as the bonitos would speedily swallow them up.”“Get them while you can, Mr Charles,” said Mrs Clagget, nodding her head. “Some day, perhaps, you would be very thankful if you could only catch a single one, and be ready to eat it raw.” Mrs Clagget’s tongue was apt to run on so fast that she now and then said things, among the many she uttered, which came true, in which instances she never failed to boast of her prophetic powers. Shortly afterwards, a number of those beautiful inhabitants of tropical seas, the little Portuguese men-of-war, were seen floating round the ship on the crest of the waves, their out-spread fans sparkling and glistening with the transparent brightness of crystal; as the wind blew them gently through the sea, their wings reflected all the colours of the rainbow. As Emily and May were admiring them, they saw the terrible dismay the ship created among them, as she passed through their midst. As the ship sailed on, the sea-gulls of the northern ocean were succeeded by the high towering tropic-birds, several of which were seen; appearing at first like mere specks in the blue sky, where, with the wonderful balloon apparatus with which they are furnished, they floated calmly at their ease, then suddenly descending like bolts from the skies, they pounced down upon the nether world, to seize some hapless fish swimming unconscious of danger near the surface of the ocean. Beautiful creatures they appeared, with two long streamer-like feathers floating behind their wide-spreading wings. Now and then a sword-fish of a bright hue shot with gold darted by, and huge sharks might be seen turning up their evil eyes with longing glances toward the ship. Bill Windy did not fail to point them out to the boys who were sky-larking in the rigging, and to bid them take care not to fall overboard to become a prey of the monsters. One of the savage creatures continued to follow the ship so pertinaciously that the mate vowed he would punish him for his audacity.“Either the brute will be catching some of us, or we must catch him,” he observed, as he prepared a harpoon and line. Descending by the dolphin-striker, he stood on the bob-stay, watching with keen eye and lifted arm for the shark, which now dropped astern, now swam lazily alongside. Bill ordered one of the men to get out to the jibboom end with a piece of pork, and heave it as far ahead as he could fling. No sooner did the creature see the tempting bait than he darted forward, and turning round to seize it exposed the white under side of his body to a blow from Bill’s harpoon, driven home with right good will. The men on deck who held the line hauled away on the slack, while others stood by with bowlines in their hands ready to slip them over the shark’s head and tail.“Haul away,” cried the mate, who was on deck in a moment; and the savage creature, in spite of its convulsive struggles, was hoisted up, and lay a helpless captive on the forecastle. Here it continued to plunge and strike out with its tail, keeping the seamen at a respectful distance. Now and then one would rush in with a handspike and endeavour to give it a blow, which might have settled it; but so rapid were its movements that it was necessary to be wary, as one stroke of that tail would have been sufficient to break a man’s leg. The shark was at length killed and cut up. In spite of its cannibal propensities, many of the emigrants gladly accepted portions, and even the seamen did not refuse to eat a slice of their hated foe.While the day presented much to occupy the attention, the night also afforded many objects of interest. The constellations of the northern hemisphere were now sinking one by one in the ocean; the Great Bear disappeared, followed by the Polar Star, and in their stead, towards the south, rose the Southern Cross, each night appearing higher and higher in the firmament. Charles and his sisters gazed at the beautiful constellation with deep interest. Beneath its glittering light they expected to pass the greatest portion of their future life; and it seemed to welcome them to the new world to which they were bound. Charles confessed that, interesting as it was, it scarcely equalled in beauty several of the northern constellations on which he had been accustomed to gaze. Now, too, the Magellanic clouds appeared in the heavens, composed probably of countless millions of worlds, so far away that the human mind can scarcely calculate their distance from this tiny world of ours. At night, also, Charles, with his sisters at his side, often watched the track of the ship on the ocean, which appeared like a broad road dotted with brilliant and innumerable stars; while on either side the waves were lighted up by thousands of electric sparks, appearing here and there; now lost altogether, now dispersed, as the waves rose and fell. Sometimes, when the wind freshened, and a huge sea broke against the bows with a tremendous crash, the spray appeared all alight, rising in the air to fall on deck like drops of fire.“Who would not wish to come to sea to witness such a spectacle as this?” exclaimed Emily, with enthusiasm, as the whole ocean appeared glowing with flashes of brilliant light. The remark was made not to Mrs Clagget, but to Mr Paget, who stood by her side.“You would scarcely suppose that this glorious illumination of the ocean is caused by countless numbers of minute living creatures,” he observed. “As the telescope reveals to us some of the wonders of the heavens, so the microscope enables to inspect many of the smallest of created beings.”“What, Mr Paget, is every spark of light we see a living creature?” asked May.“Yes, indeed,” was the answer. “And probably we see at a time not a thousandth part of the number of those which are floating around.”The ship all this time had been standing over towards the coast of South America, then to steer parallel with it, till, feeling the influence of the trade winds, she was to keep eastward towards her destination. Hitherto good progress had been made, and a rapid passage was expected; but near the Tropic of Capricorn the wind fell, till a dead calm rested on the ocean; gradually every ripple was (as Mrs Clagget expressed it) smoothed out of the water. The sails hung idly down against the masts, chips of wood thrown overboard floated alongside, the sun struck down with terrific force, the whole sea shining like a sheet of burnished gold. The passengers could no longer bear the heat below; and when they came on deck, and sought whatever shade could be found, they gained but little by the change. Though the sky, after a time, became overcast, and a light steamy mist pervaded the atmosphere, the heat, rather than moderating, increased. Few on board could resist complaining. Night brought no relief. People who had appeared active enough before sat listless about the decks. Books, if open, were unread. The seamen even exhibited the same listlessness as the rest of those on board. Emily and May did their best to keep up their spirits, but their efforts were unavailing. Captain Westerway and Bill Windy were among the few who appeared unaffected. Mr Paget, also exerting himself to the utmost, went about his usual occupations, and endeavoured to revive the spirits of his companions. It was evident, however, that unless a breeze should spring up some evil consequences would too probably ensue. Day after day the ship floated on the glassy sea, no sail in sight, the only object ever visible beyond her deck being some wandering tropic bird, which might be seen hovering on high, watching with keen sight for its prey.The surgeon appeared one morning with a grave face, to make his report to the captain. Several of the steerage passengers were on the sick list. As the day wore on, others were added to them: some, he feared, were cases of malignant fever. They were removed to a part of the ship screened off to serve as an hospital. Nothing else could be done except to fumigate the “between-decks,” that operation rather adding to the heat than otherwise. The cabin passengers at length became alarmed.“Oh, dear, what shall we do if there is fever?” exclaimed Mrs Clagget to her young companions. “We must take care that no one ever comes near us.”No one was more alarmed than Mr Job Mawson; for, in spite of the heat, he shut himself up in his cabin, and was afraid of coming in contact even with the steward, lest he should have passed near any of the sick emigrants. Mr Paget, on the contrary, was more active than ever; he, without hesitation, spent many hours of each day visiting those stricken down by disease, and endeavouring to rouse the spirits of those who had hitherto escaped. Charles Dicey, in spite of Mrs Clagget’s warnings, accompanied him, and gave every assistance in his power to the surgeon. Day after day others were added to the numbers already suffering from fever. One poor woman, the mother of a family, sank beneath it, and it was a sad spectacle to all on deck as the body, secured in canvas, and heavily weighted, was committed to the deep. The voice of Captain Westerway, generally so firm, trembled as he read the funeral service. Another and another followed. At last the good captain entreated Mr Paget to perform the painful duty for him. How every one longed for a breeze to carry the fever-stricken ship out of that inhospitable region! It was supposed that the disease must have been brought on board, and had only now developed itself, as the poor woman who had just died had been ill when she left England.Emily and May had at first listened to Mrs Clagget’s advice, but when so many women and children became ill, they could no longer refrain from assisting in nursing them. Fearlessly they sat by the side of the sick, reading to the elder ones, and trying to soothe and comfort the younger children. Several children of the first poor woman who had died followed their mother to her watery grave.Charles at first tried to persuade his sisters that they were not called upon to risk their health.“Then why do you risk yours, brother?” asked Emily. “Your life, surely, is as precious as ours. You would get on very well without us, but we should be forlorn creatures indeed if left alone. I am sure we are but doing our duty, and there is One above who will protect us.”“But I am more hardy than you are,” argued Charles. “I can go aloft, too, and get any germs of fever which I might have contracted blown away.”“There is no wind to blow them away,” said Emily, “and we are not more likely to catch the fever than you are. Let us do our duty, and leave the rest to God.”Still, though Charles was not thoroughly convinced, his sisters gained their object. That very day they visited the hospital, nursed the poor children, gave them their medicine and food, and rendered all the assistance they could to the sick mothers. Charles used to look anxiously at them every morning as they appeared at breakfast, fearful of hearing them complain of illness; but the bloom of health still glowed on their cheeks, and though grave, and sometimes sad when another victim had been added to those already taken off by the disease, they retained their spirits and courage.“Really, Dicey, you are a brave fellow,” said Jack Ivyleaf one day, while Charles was taking his usual walk on deck for exercise. “I cannot bring myself to go among those sick people as you do. It’s all very well to go forward and amuse them when they are in health, and inclined to be jolly; but to go and sit in the hot, sweltering atmosphere between-decks is quite another thing.”“Possibly, Mr Ivyleaf, you do not reflect that those poor sick people have immortal souls like ourselves,” observed Mr Paget, who had that instant joined them. “If we profess to be Christians we should look upon them as brothers in distress, and do our utmost for their souls as well as their bodies.”“Ah, no, to be sure,” said Jack, keeping his mouth agape, and gazing at Mr Paget. “I should have thought that sort of work might be left to the parson and doctor.”“But as we have no parson on board, and the doctor is overworked, does it not strike you that the poor people have a right to our assistance?” asked Mr Paget.“Right! I don’t see that they can have any right!” said Jack; “though it’s very kind in you and Dicey to attend to them.” Jack Ivyleaf looked as if he was afraid that his companions wished to enlist him in the service he dreaded, and was evidently trying to make his escape from them.The captain and first officer were on deck. The latter had been casting an eager look for some time to the north-west.“We shall have it soon, sir,” he observed, pointing with his hand.“Turn the hands up, Mr Windy, and trim sails,” said the captain in a cheerful voice. “See there, gentlemen, those clouds yonder are the pleasantest sight I have seen for many days.” A low bank of clouds could be observed resting on the horizon. It grew higher and higher every instant, while a dark line could be seen extending across the ocean in the same direction. The sea, however, continued as calm as before; around the ship not a ripple could be seen on its surface. The crew, hurrying from below, went to their stations, all eyes being turned in the direction of the approaching clouds. Presently cats’-paws began to play over the mirror-like expanse, and then to disappear; the sails slowly bulged out, and speedily again hung down as listlessly as before against the masts. The dark line grew brighter and brighter; presently the loftier sails swelled out, and the ship began to glide smoothly over the ocean. The joyful news was communicated below, and all who were not in their beds came up on deck. The ship, at length feeling the power of the helm, was put before the wind. The dark line now increased gradually in width, and seemed covered with sparkling foam; a rushing noise was heard; in another instant almost the aspect of the whole ocean was changed; the sails bulged out steadily; waves, at first but small, danced up astern, and on either side their crests hissing and foaming, while the spray in broad sheets flew off from their summits. Now the stout ship dashed forward, every instant increasing her speed, as if eager to make up for the time lost. On she went, faster and faster, rising to the seas, and plunging into them as they rolled around her. The lighter sails were taken in. A strong gale was blowing—it was increasing too. The clouds now rapidly gathered in dense masses across the sky; the seamen were busy in all directions securing the boats, the spars, and other articles hitherto left about the deck.“We shall have a heavy gale, gentlemen, before long,” observed the captain, in answer to Mr Paget’s and Charles’ inquiries respecting the weather. “It’s what I have been wishing for, as nothing else is likely to clear us of this terrible fever.” Before night his predictions were verified, and the ship, under close-reefed topsails, was running on at the rate of twelve knots or more an hour.Emily and May found it far more difficult to attend to their charges than during the calm; but they still persevered; and though it was very hot between-decks, yet the sick people felt sensibly the change which had occurred in the atmosphere.For several days the “Crusader” ran on before the gale; sometimes, indeed, the wind blew so hard, and the ship rolled and tossed and tumbled about so much, that many wished the calm back again. One night the thunder roared and rattled overhead with crashing peals; bright lightning darted from the skies. All hands were on deck, for it was impossible to say what might next occur. The masts strained and cracked, and it seemed every instant that the canvas would be blown out of the boltropes. The dark seas came rolling up astern, their crests hissing and foaming, threatening to break over the poop. Several of the gentlemen passengers were collected on deck. Suddenly a voice was heard, exclaiming in a tone of terror, “What is that? Oh mercy, mercy!” They looked aloft; at the end of the yardarm was a mass of bluish light like a small globe. Charles saw Job Mawson standing not far off; his knees were knocking together, his arms outstretched. Presently the light began to move, and suddenly it appeared at the mainmast head; there it remained stationary for some time.“What is it?” exclaimed Job Mawson. “Oh, captain, do make it go away!”“It is nothing very terrible,” answered Bill Windy, who overheard him. “We might easily box up that fellow, if it were worth while to go aloft and catch him.”“Let no one make the attempt,” said the captain. “I must not have you, Mr Windy, or the men, risk your lives to catch a jack-o’-lantern. I hope it’s a sign that the gale is breaking, and that we shall have moderate weather again before long.”Job Mawson did not appear as satisfied with this explanation of the captain’s as the rest of the passengers; he continued watching the light with a terror-stricken glance, as if he expected something dreadful was about to happen. At length, now travelling to one mast-head, now to the other, and back again to the yardarm, it finally disappeared. The wind, however, continued blowing for some time as hard as ever. When morning broke, it had somewhat moderated, and as the day wore on, a strong breeze only was blowing. The sea, notwithstanding this, continued as high as ever, and consequently the ship rolled and tumbled about fully as much as before. The captain, who had been on deck all the night and a great part of the forenoon, at length retired to his berth.Bill Windy had the watch, Charles was standing near him.“What do you think of the weather now?” he asked.“Can’t say that I think it settled yet,” answered Bill. “There’s a stormy look away there to the nor’ard, but the captain ordered me to shake the reefs out of the topsails if it grows no worse; though, to my mind, we shall have to take them in again before nightfall.”Bill took a turn on deck, then ordered the hands aloft to shake out the reefs. The topsails were sheeted home; the ship felt the fresh impulse given to her, and went bounding on over the tossing ocean. The mate walked the deck keeping a watchful eye to windward.“I don’t know what to make of it, Mr Dicey,” he observed to Charles. “It is always well to take a reef in in good time, and better seamanship, too, to my mind, than to wait till the squall is down upon one. Still, we have lost so much time in that calm that it won’t do to be shortening sail before it is necessary. The surgeon, too, wishes the captain, unless the sickness abates, to put into the Cape, that the people may be landed and the ship fumigated.”“I am thankful to hear that,” said Charles; “a few days on shore may, I hope, restore all to health.”Although no deaths had occurred for several days, a considerable number of the people still remained on the sick list, many of the cases being very severe. Even to people in health, the steerage of an emigrant ship is not a desirable place, especially in a hot climate; and now the poor sufferers were not only confined below with closed hatches, but the ship was tumbling and rolling fearfully about, the masts were groaning, the bulk-heads creaking, the stamping of feet was heard overhead, the waves were constantly dashing against the sides, while now and then came the heavy blow of a sea, as it fell on board and deluged the decks.Bill Windy and Charles had continued their walk for some time, when the mate, looking to windward, exclaimed, “It’s high time to shorten sail, or we shall have the masts whipped out of the ship. Boy, call the captain! Hands aloft—two reefs in the topsails.” The crew were running up the rigging, when Captain Westerway made his appearance. The men quickly laid out on the yards, and were busily employed in gathering up the sails. An active young topman, whom Charles had seen just before laughing and joking with his shipmates, was on the lee-yardarm; while, with earing in hand, he was passing the point through the cringle, the ship gave a heavy lurch, he lost his hold, and was jerked off the yard. For an instant he was seen hanging on to the earing; but it would have required superhuman strength to maintain his hold with the ship pitching and rolling as she was doing; in another moment he fell headlong into the foaming sea. Scarcely had he touched the water when Bill Windy ran to the falls of the lifeboat on the starboard side, crying out for volunteers. Charles followed him. The most active men were aloft; but several gathered at the falls. The captain took the helm, relieving the man at the wheel, who hurried to assist the mate. Bill, with three hands, was already in the boat. Charles leaped in also.“You had better not, Mr Dicey,” exclaimed Bill. “Get up the side again, and let another hand come. You don’t know the danger you are running.”“Not more than you,” answered Charles.“It’s my duty, sir,” said Bill, “and not yours; do be advised by me.”Charles, however, was eager to go to the assistance of the young seaman. There were in all six stout hands in the boat. The lifebuoy had been let go. Some time passed before the seaman saw it; at last he made towards it, but his strength seemed insufficient to buffet with that rough sea. The attention of most on board was for the moment engaged rather with the boat endeavouring to carry help to the drowning man than to the man himself. The greater number of the crew, too, were occupied in handing the sails. This task had to be accomplished before the ship could be brought to. That was itself a manoeuvre of no small danger, yet the sea was not sufficiently high, nor the wind too strong, to make it altogether impracticable. The boat at length got clear off, and pulled away in the direction the man had last been seen, Mr Paget and other passengers pointing with their hands to guide them. Charles seized an oar—there were only four in the boat; the mate took the helm. They had not pulled far when one of the oars broke. This was seen from the ship. Mr Paget observed that the boat had rapidly dropped a long way to leeward. While he was watching her, a huge wave rose up between her and the ship. He looked anxiously, expecting to see her on the crest of the sea. She was nowhere visible. It was some time before another hand came aft to the helm to relieve the captain. The second and third mates were forward. Not a seaman had been able to keep his eye upon the boat. Mr Paget, however, felt sure he knew where she could be found. The captain was now able to look about for her. Mr Paget told him his fears.“I am afraid you are right, sir,” he said, after he had continued for some time looking out all around.“The boat has been swamped. I have no doubt about it.” Mr Paget’s heart sank within him at these words; he had formed a sincere regard for Charles Dicey; he felt still more for the poor girls who were thus deprived of their brother.“I hoped better things of that boat,” observed the captain; “but a very heavy sea is running even for her. Poor fellows, I would to heaven this had not happened. Still she may have escaped.”He hailed the men aloft, and desired them to look out. No one could see the boat; and neither the lifebuoy nor the young sailor, who, it was supposed, had got hold of it, were anywhere to be seen. The captain continued looking out for some time, ordering those aloft also to keep a bright look-out. At length he gave the order to brace round the yards, and the ship once more gathered way. “We must not give them up yet; so I will wear ship, and run over the ground we have passed.”While this manoeuvre was being carried out the Miss Diceys and several other ladies, followed by Mrs Clagget, appeared on deck.“What is the matter, captain?” exclaimed the latter. “They tell me that a man has fallen overboard, and that a boat has gone to look for him. How could you let a boat go away while the sea is tumbling about in this terrible fashion; and, pray, who has gone in her? Ah, Mr Paget, I am glad to see you have not risked your life. But where is Charles Dicey? Just like him, to do such a madcap trick. My dear girls, your brother jumped into the boat to pick up a silly man who tumbled overboard, and they cannot find him or any of those who went with him.”“Our brother!” exclaimed Emily and May in a tone of alarm. “Where is the boat? Oh! do tell us, Captain Westerway; we do not see her.”“We are somewhat anxious about the boat, I confess, Miss Dicey,” said Mr Paget, approaching Emily and May; “but still we may hope to find her. In this mountainous sea she might be easily concealed between the waves, though at no great distance.”In vain, however, every one on board kept looking out for the missing boat. The ship was standing back exactly over the spot where she had been lowered. The only sign of her was a broken oar, which tossed up and down—for a moment was seen, and then disappeared. Mrs Clagget continued to abuse Charles for his foolhardiness, as she called it.“Poor young man, I wish he had not gone,” said the good captain; “but it was a brave deed. I ought not to have allowed the boat to be lowered; but I could not bear to let one of my fellows perish without an attempt to save him; and I thought that lifeboat could be trusted.”“Very wrong in all concerned,” exclaimed Mrs Clagget. “But surely, captain, you don’t think poor Charles is really lost, and your worthy mate too. I had a great respect for that honest man.”“Indeed, madam, I fear such is the case,” said the captain with a sigh; “and I trust you will do your best to console those dear young ladies. It will break their hearts, I am afraid, for it is easy to see what affection they have for their brother.”Emily and May were, as may be supposed, almost stricken down by grief when they were told, though as cautiously as possible by Mr Paget, of what had occurred. Not till night had arrived, and all hopes had been abandoned, could they be induced to leave the deck. They stood with their hands clasped together, looking out over the tossing sea as though they expected the boat which contained him they loved so much would appear again in sight.

Little did Charles Dicey and his sisters think of the fearful dangers to which their brother Willy was exposed. The “Crusader” sailed on over the smooth sea, with her white canvas spread out, towering to the sky, studding-sails on either side reaching to the very surface of the water.

An awning had been spread over the after-part of the ship, and beneath it the cabin passengers assembled, sheltered from the hot rays of the sun. Neither Charles nor Mr Paget were ever idle, and their example generally induced many of their companions to work also. Mrs Clagget, if she did nothing else, always contrived to keep her tongue going. Emily and May were usually well employed. Their attention, however, was frequently called to the various objects which appeared around them. They enjoyed watching the flights of flying-fish which darted with the speed of arrows out of the water, hovered like birds in the air for a few seconds, scarcely touching the foam-crested seas, and then sunk quickly again beneath the surface. “How beautiful and blue are the reflections on their glittering wings, how transparent their tiny bodies, how light their movements!” observed Emily; “they look like ocean elves, as they float through the air. What a happy life they must lead—now in the pure ocean, now getting an uninterrupted sight of the glorious sun and the clear sky above them.”

“They would have a very different tale to tell, Miss Dicey, if they could speak to you,” observed Mr Paget. “Could your eyes pierce through the surface, you would see some savage bonitos or dolphins pursuing the hapless fish who visit the air, not for amusement, but in the hopes of escaping from their persecutors.”

Just then a large covey was seen to rise abeam close to the ship. They flew high into the air, and in an instant the deck was covered with their floundering bodies; their wings, dried by the heat of the sun, no longer spread out, they looked like ordinary fish.

“Catch them, catch them,” cried Mrs Clagget; “they will make a delightful dish for dinner.”

“Poor creatures—how unromantic you are,” said Emily.

“I am practical, my dear. I pride myself on being practical,” answered Mrs Clagget. “I prefer eating them myself to allowing the dolphins to have them for their supper.” Jumbo, the cook’s mate, seemed to be of Mrs Clagget’s opinion, for in an instant he was among the poor fish, tumbling them into his bucket as fast as he could pick them up.

“That’s a wise lad,” observed the loquacious lady. “If any of you happened to be in a boat far away from land without provisions, you would be very glad to have a dish of those fish fly on board.”

“But we happen to have plenty of provisions, and are not in want of the poor fish,” said Charles. “However, if they were thrown overboard again, I suspect that they would have very little reason to thank us, as the bonitos would speedily swallow them up.”

“Get them while you can, Mr Charles,” said Mrs Clagget, nodding her head. “Some day, perhaps, you would be very thankful if you could only catch a single one, and be ready to eat it raw.” Mrs Clagget’s tongue was apt to run on so fast that she now and then said things, among the many she uttered, which came true, in which instances she never failed to boast of her prophetic powers. Shortly afterwards, a number of those beautiful inhabitants of tropical seas, the little Portuguese men-of-war, were seen floating round the ship on the crest of the waves, their out-spread fans sparkling and glistening with the transparent brightness of crystal; as the wind blew them gently through the sea, their wings reflected all the colours of the rainbow. As Emily and May were admiring them, they saw the terrible dismay the ship created among them, as she passed through their midst. As the ship sailed on, the sea-gulls of the northern ocean were succeeded by the high towering tropic-birds, several of which were seen; appearing at first like mere specks in the blue sky, where, with the wonderful balloon apparatus with which they are furnished, they floated calmly at their ease, then suddenly descending like bolts from the skies, they pounced down upon the nether world, to seize some hapless fish swimming unconscious of danger near the surface of the ocean. Beautiful creatures they appeared, with two long streamer-like feathers floating behind their wide-spreading wings. Now and then a sword-fish of a bright hue shot with gold darted by, and huge sharks might be seen turning up their evil eyes with longing glances toward the ship. Bill Windy did not fail to point them out to the boys who were sky-larking in the rigging, and to bid them take care not to fall overboard to become a prey of the monsters. One of the savage creatures continued to follow the ship so pertinaciously that the mate vowed he would punish him for his audacity.

“Either the brute will be catching some of us, or we must catch him,” he observed, as he prepared a harpoon and line. Descending by the dolphin-striker, he stood on the bob-stay, watching with keen eye and lifted arm for the shark, which now dropped astern, now swam lazily alongside. Bill ordered one of the men to get out to the jibboom end with a piece of pork, and heave it as far ahead as he could fling. No sooner did the creature see the tempting bait than he darted forward, and turning round to seize it exposed the white under side of his body to a blow from Bill’s harpoon, driven home with right good will. The men on deck who held the line hauled away on the slack, while others stood by with bowlines in their hands ready to slip them over the shark’s head and tail.

“Haul away,” cried the mate, who was on deck in a moment; and the savage creature, in spite of its convulsive struggles, was hoisted up, and lay a helpless captive on the forecastle. Here it continued to plunge and strike out with its tail, keeping the seamen at a respectful distance. Now and then one would rush in with a handspike and endeavour to give it a blow, which might have settled it; but so rapid were its movements that it was necessary to be wary, as one stroke of that tail would have been sufficient to break a man’s leg. The shark was at length killed and cut up. In spite of its cannibal propensities, many of the emigrants gladly accepted portions, and even the seamen did not refuse to eat a slice of their hated foe.

While the day presented much to occupy the attention, the night also afforded many objects of interest. The constellations of the northern hemisphere were now sinking one by one in the ocean; the Great Bear disappeared, followed by the Polar Star, and in their stead, towards the south, rose the Southern Cross, each night appearing higher and higher in the firmament. Charles and his sisters gazed at the beautiful constellation with deep interest. Beneath its glittering light they expected to pass the greatest portion of their future life; and it seemed to welcome them to the new world to which they were bound. Charles confessed that, interesting as it was, it scarcely equalled in beauty several of the northern constellations on which he had been accustomed to gaze. Now, too, the Magellanic clouds appeared in the heavens, composed probably of countless millions of worlds, so far away that the human mind can scarcely calculate their distance from this tiny world of ours. At night, also, Charles, with his sisters at his side, often watched the track of the ship on the ocean, which appeared like a broad road dotted with brilliant and innumerable stars; while on either side the waves were lighted up by thousands of electric sparks, appearing here and there; now lost altogether, now dispersed, as the waves rose and fell. Sometimes, when the wind freshened, and a huge sea broke against the bows with a tremendous crash, the spray appeared all alight, rising in the air to fall on deck like drops of fire.

“Who would not wish to come to sea to witness such a spectacle as this?” exclaimed Emily, with enthusiasm, as the whole ocean appeared glowing with flashes of brilliant light. The remark was made not to Mrs Clagget, but to Mr Paget, who stood by her side.

“You would scarcely suppose that this glorious illumination of the ocean is caused by countless numbers of minute living creatures,” he observed. “As the telescope reveals to us some of the wonders of the heavens, so the microscope enables to inspect many of the smallest of created beings.”

“What, Mr Paget, is every spark of light we see a living creature?” asked May.

“Yes, indeed,” was the answer. “And probably we see at a time not a thousandth part of the number of those which are floating around.”

The ship all this time had been standing over towards the coast of South America, then to steer parallel with it, till, feeling the influence of the trade winds, she was to keep eastward towards her destination. Hitherto good progress had been made, and a rapid passage was expected; but near the Tropic of Capricorn the wind fell, till a dead calm rested on the ocean; gradually every ripple was (as Mrs Clagget expressed it) smoothed out of the water. The sails hung idly down against the masts, chips of wood thrown overboard floated alongside, the sun struck down with terrific force, the whole sea shining like a sheet of burnished gold. The passengers could no longer bear the heat below; and when they came on deck, and sought whatever shade could be found, they gained but little by the change. Though the sky, after a time, became overcast, and a light steamy mist pervaded the atmosphere, the heat, rather than moderating, increased. Few on board could resist complaining. Night brought no relief. People who had appeared active enough before sat listless about the decks. Books, if open, were unread. The seamen even exhibited the same listlessness as the rest of those on board. Emily and May did their best to keep up their spirits, but their efforts were unavailing. Captain Westerway and Bill Windy were among the few who appeared unaffected. Mr Paget, also exerting himself to the utmost, went about his usual occupations, and endeavoured to revive the spirits of his companions. It was evident, however, that unless a breeze should spring up some evil consequences would too probably ensue. Day after day the ship floated on the glassy sea, no sail in sight, the only object ever visible beyond her deck being some wandering tropic bird, which might be seen hovering on high, watching with keen sight for its prey.

The surgeon appeared one morning with a grave face, to make his report to the captain. Several of the steerage passengers were on the sick list. As the day wore on, others were added to them: some, he feared, were cases of malignant fever. They were removed to a part of the ship screened off to serve as an hospital. Nothing else could be done except to fumigate the “between-decks,” that operation rather adding to the heat than otherwise. The cabin passengers at length became alarmed.

“Oh, dear, what shall we do if there is fever?” exclaimed Mrs Clagget to her young companions. “We must take care that no one ever comes near us.”

No one was more alarmed than Mr Job Mawson; for, in spite of the heat, he shut himself up in his cabin, and was afraid of coming in contact even with the steward, lest he should have passed near any of the sick emigrants. Mr Paget, on the contrary, was more active than ever; he, without hesitation, spent many hours of each day visiting those stricken down by disease, and endeavouring to rouse the spirits of those who had hitherto escaped. Charles Dicey, in spite of Mrs Clagget’s warnings, accompanied him, and gave every assistance in his power to the surgeon. Day after day others were added to the numbers already suffering from fever. One poor woman, the mother of a family, sank beneath it, and it was a sad spectacle to all on deck as the body, secured in canvas, and heavily weighted, was committed to the deep. The voice of Captain Westerway, generally so firm, trembled as he read the funeral service. Another and another followed. At last the good captain entreated Mr Paget to perform the painful duty for him. How every one longed for a breeze to carry the fever-stricken ship out of that inhospitable region! It was supposed that the disease must have been brought on board, and had only now developed itself, as the poor woman who had just died had been ill when she left England.

Emily and May had at first listened to Mrs Clagget’s advice, but when so many women and children became ill, they could no longer refrain from assisting in nursing them. Fearlessly they sat by the side of the sick, reading to the elder ones, and trying to soothe and comfort the younger children. Several children of the first poor woman who had died followed their mother to her watery grave.

Charles at first tried to persuade his sisters that they were not called upon to risk their health.

“Then why do you risk yours, brother?” asked Emily. “Your life, surely, is as precious as ours. You would get on very well without us, but we should be forlorn creatures indeed if left alone. I am sure we are but doing our duty, and there is One above who will protect us.”

“But I am more hardy than you are,” argued Charles. “I can go aloft, too, and get any germs of fever which I might have contracted blown away.”

“There is no wind to blow them away,” said Emily, “and we are not more likely to catch the fever than you are. Let us do our duty, and leave the rest to God.”

Still, though Charles was not thoroughly convinced, his sisters gained their object. That very day they visited the hospital, nursed the poor children, gave them their medicine and food, and rendered all the assistance they could to the sick mothers. Charles used to look anxiously at them every morning as they appeared at breakfast, fearful of hearing them complain of illness; but the bloom of health still glowed on their cheeks, and though grave, and sometimes sad when another victim had been added to those already taken off by the disease, they retained their spirits and courage.

“Really, Dicey, you are a brave fellow,” said Jack Ivyleaf one day, while Charles was taking his usual walk on deck for exercise. “I cannot bring myself to go among those sick people as you do. It’s all very well to go forward and amuse them when they are in health, and inclined to be jolly; but to go and sit in the hot, sweltering atmosphere between-decks is quite another thing.”

“Possibly, Mr Ivyleaf, you do not reflect that those poor sick people have immortal souls like ourselves,” observed Mr Paget, who had that instant joined them. “If we profess to be Christians we should look upon them as brothers in distress, and do our utmost for their souls as well as their bodies.”

“Ah, no, to be sure,” said Jack, keeping his mouth agape, and gazing at Mr Paget. “I should have thought that sort of work might be left to the parson and doctor.”

“But as we have no parson on board, and the doctor is overworked, does it not strike you that the poor people have a right to our assistance?” asked Mr Paget.

“Right! I don’t see that they can have any right!” said Jack; “though it’s very kind in you and Dicey to attend to them.” Jack Ivyleaf looked as if he was afraid that his companions wished to enlist him in the service he dreaded, and was evidently trying to make his escape from them.

The captain and first officer were on deck. The latter had been casting an eager look for some time to the north-west.

“We shall have it soon, sir,” he observed, pointing with his hand.

“Turn the hands up, Mr Windy, and trim sails,” said the captain in a cheerful voice. “See there, gentlemen, those clouds yonder are the pleasantest sight I have seen for many days.” A low bank of clouds could be observed resting on the horizon. It grew higher and higher every instant, while a dark line could be seen extending across the ocean in the same direction. The sea, however, continued as calm as before; around the ship not a ripple could be seen on its surface. The crew, hurrying from below, went to their stations, all eyes being turned in the direction of the approaching clouds. Presently cats’-paws began to play over the mirror-like expanse, and then to disappear; the sails slowly bulged out, and speedily again hung down as listlessly as before against the masts. The dark line grew brighter and brighter; presently the loftier sails swelled out, and the ship began to glide smoothly over the ocean. The joyful news was communicated below, and all who were not in their beds came up on deck. The ship, at length feeling the power of the helm, was put before the wind. The dark line now increased gradually in width, and seemed covered with sparkling foam; a rushing noise was heard; in another instant almost the aspect of the whole ocean was changed; the sails bulged out steadily; waves, at first but small, danced up astern, and on either side their crests hissing and foaming, while the spray in broad sheets flew off from their summits. Now the stout ship dashed forward, every instant increasing her speed, as if eager to make up for the time lost. On she went, faster and faster, rising to the seas, and plunging into them as they rolled around her. The lighter sails were taken in. A strong gale was blowing—it was increasing too. The clouds now rapidly gathered in dense masses across the sky; the seamen were busy in all directions securing the boats, the spars, and other articles hitherto left about the deck.

“We shall have a heavy gale, gentlemen, before long,” observed the captain, in answer to Mr Paget’s and Charles’ inquiries respecting the weather. “It’s what I have been wishing for, as nothing else is likely to clear us of this terrible fever.” Before night his predictions were verified, and the ship, under close-reefed topsails, was running on at the rate of twelve knots or more an hour.

Emily and May found it far more difficult to attend to their charges than during the calm; but they still persevered; and though it was very hot between-decks, yet the sick people felt sensibly the change which had occurred in the atmosphere.

For several days the “Crusader” ran on before the gale; sometimes, indeed, the wind blew so hard, and the ship rolled and tossed and tumbled about so much, that many wished the calm back again. One night the thunder roared and rattled overhead with crashing peals; bright lightning darted from the skies. All hands were on deck, for it was impossible to say what might next occur. The masts strained and cracked, and it seemed every instant that the canvas would be blown out of the boltropes. The dark seas came rolling up astern, their crests hissing and foaming, threatening to break over the poop. Several of the gentlemen passengers were collected on deck. Suddenly a voice was heard, exclaiming in a tone of terror, “What is that? Oh mercy, mercy!” They looked aloft; at the end of the yardarm was a mass of bluish light like a small globe. Charles saw Job Mawson standing not far off; his knees were knocking together, his arms outstretched. Presently the light began to move, and suddenly it appeared at the mainmast head; there it remained stationary for some time.

“What is it?” exclaimed Job Mawson. “Oh, captain, do make it go away!”

“It is nothing very terrible,” answered Bill Windy, who overheard him. “We might easily box up that fellow, if it were worth while to go aloft and catch him.”

“Let no one make the attempt,” said the captain. “I must not have you, Mr Windy, or the men, risk your lives to catch a jack-o’-lantern. I hope it’s a sign that the gale is breaking, and that we shall have moderate weather again before long.”

Job Mawson did not appear as satisfied with this explanation of the captain’s as the rest of the passengers; he continued watching the light with a terror-stricken glance, as if he expected something dreadful was about to happen. At length, now travelling to one mast-head, now to the other, and back again to the yardarm, it finally disappeared. The wind, however, continued blowing for some time as hard as ever. When morning broke, it had somewhat moderated, and as the day wore on, a strong breeze only was blowing. The sea, notwithstanding this, continued as high as ever, and consequently the ship rolled and tumbled about fully as much as before. The captain, who had been on deck all the night and a great part of the forenoon, at length retired to his berth.

Bill Windy had the watch, Charles was standing near him.

“What do you think of the weather now?” he asked.

“Can’t say that I think it settled yet,” answered Bill. “There’s a stormy look away there to the nor’ard, but the captain ordered me to shake the reefs out of the topsails if it grows no worse; though, to my mind, we shall have to take them in again before nightfall.”

Bill took a turn on deck, then ordered the hands aloft to shake out the reefs. The topsails were sheeted home; the ship felt the fresh impulse given to her, and went bounding on over the tossing ocean. The mate walked the deck keeping a watchful eye to windward.

“I don’t know what to make of it, Mr Dicey,” he observed to Charles. “It is always well to take a reef in in good time, and better seamanship, too, to my mind, than to wait till the squall is down upon one. Still, we have lost so much time in that calm that it won’t do to be shortening sail before it is necessary. The surgeon, too, wishes the captain, unless the sickness abates, to put into the Cape, that the people may be landed and the ship fumigated.”

“I am thankful to hear that,” said Charles; “a few days on shore may, I hope, restore all to health.”

Although no deaths had occurred for several days, a considerable number of the people still remained on the sick list, many of the cases being very severe. Even to people in health, the steerage of an emigrant ship is not a desirable place, especially in a hot climate; and now the poor sufferers were not only confined below with closed hatches, but the ship was tumbling and rolling fearfully about, the masts were groaning, the bulk-heads creaking, the stamping of feet was heard overhead, the waves were constantly dashing against the sides, while now and then came the heavy blow of a sea, as it fell on board and deluged the decks.

Bill Windy and Charles had continued their walk for some time, when the mate, looking to windward, exclaimed, “It’s high time to shorten sail, or we shall have the masts whipped out of the ship. Boy, call the captain! Hands aloft—two reefs in the topsails.” The crew were running up the rigging, when Captain Westerway made his appearance. The men quickly laid out on the yards, and were busily employed in gathering up the sails. An active young topman, whom Charles had seen just before laughing and joking with his shipmates, was on the lee-yardarm; while, with earing in hand, he was passing the point through the cringle, the ship gave a heavy lurch, he lost his hold, and was jerked off the yard. For an instant he was seen hanging on to the earing; but it would have required superhuman strength to maintain his hold with the ship pitching and rolling as she was doing; in another moment he fell headlong into the foaming sea. Scarcely had he touched the water when Bill Windy ran to the falls of the lifeboat on the starboard side, crying out for volunteers. Charles followed him. The most active men were aloft; but several gathered at the falls. The captain took the helm, relieving the man at the wheel, who hurried to assist the mate. Bill, with three hands, was already in the boat. Charles leaped in also.

“You had better not, Mr Dicey,” exclaimed Bill. “Get up the side again, and let another hand come. You don’t know the danger you are running.”

“Not more than you,” answered Charles.

“It’s my duty, sir,” said Bill, “and not yours; do be advised by me.”

Charles, however, was eager to go to the assistance of the young seaman. There were in all six stout hands in the boat. The lifebuoy had been let go. Some time passed before the seaman saw it; at last he made towards it, but his strength seemed insufficient to buffet with that rough sea. The attention of most on board was for the moment engaged rather with the boat endeavouring to carry help to the drowning man than to the man himself. The greater number of the crew, too, were occupied in handing the sails. This task had to be accomplished before the ship could be brought to. That was itself a manoeuvre of no small danger, yet the sea was not sufficiently high, nor the wind too strong, to make it altogether impracticable. The boat at length got clear off, and pulled away in the direction the man had last been seen, Mr Paget and other passengers pointing with their hands to guide them. Charles seized an oar—there were only four in the boat; the mate took the helm. They had not pulled far when one of the oars broke. This was seen from the ship. Mr Paget observed that the boat had rapidly dropped a long way to leeward. While he was watching her, a huge wave rose up between her and the ship. He looked anxiously, expecting to see her on the crest of the sea. She was nowhere visible. It was some time before another hand came aft to the helm to relieve the captain. The second and third mates were forward. Not a seaman had been able to keep his eye upon the boat. Mr Paget, however, felt sure he knew where she could be found. The captain was now able to look about for her. Mr Paget told him his fears.

“I am afraid you are right, sir,” he said, after he had continued for some time looking out all around.

“The boat has been swamped. I have no doubt about it.” Mr Paget’s heart sank within him at these words; he had formed a sincere regard for Charles Dicey; he felt still more for the poor girls who were thus deprived of their brother.

“I hoped better things of that boat,” observed the captain; “but a very heavy sea is running even for her. Poor fellows, I would to heaven this had not happened. Still she may have escaped.”

He hailed the men aloft, and desired them to look out. No one could see the boat; and neither the lifebuoy nor the young sailor, who, it was supposed, had got hold of it, were anywhere to be seen. The captain continued looking out for some time, ordering those aloft also to keep a bright look-out. At length he gave the order to brace round the yards, and the ship once more gathered way. “We must not give them up yet; so I will wear ship, and run over the ground we have passed.”

While this manoeuvre was being carried out the Miss Diceys and several other ladies, followed by Mrs Clagget, appeared on deck.

“What is the matter, captain?” exclaimed the latter. “They tell me that a man has fallen overboard, and that a boat has gone to look for him. How could you let a boat go away while the sea is tumbling about in this terrible fashion; and, pray, who has gone in her? Ah, Mr Paget, I am glad to see you have not risked your life. But where is Charles Dicey? Just like him, to do such a madcap trick. My dear girls, your brother jumped into the boat to pick up a silly man who tumbled overboard, and they cannot find him or any of those who went with him.”

“Our brother!” exclaimed Emily and May in a tone of alarm. “Where is the boat? Oh! do tell us, Captain Westerway; we do not see her.”

“We are somewhat anxious about the boat, I confess, Miss Dicey,” said Mr Paget, approaching Emily and May; “but still we may hope to find her. In this mountainous sea she might be easily concealed between the waves, though at no great distance.”

In vain, however, every one on board kept looking out for the missing boat. The ship was standing back exactly over the spot where she had been lowered. The only sign of her was a broken oar, which tossed up and down—for a moment was seen, and then disappeared. Mrs Clagget continued to abuse Charles for his foolhardiness, as she called it.

“Poor young man, I wish he had not gone,” said the good captain; “but it was a brave deed. I ought not to have allowed the boat to be lowered; but I could not bear to let one of my fellows perish without an attempt to save him; and I thought that lifeboat could be trusted.”

“Very wrong in all concerned,” exclaimed Mrs Clagget. “But surely, captain, you don’t think poor Charles is really lost, and your worthy mate too. I had a great respect for that honest man.”

“Indeed, madam, I fear such is the case,” said the captain with a sigh; “and I trust you will do your best to console those dear young ladies. It will break their hearts, I am afraid, for it is easy to see what affection they have for their brother.”

Emily and May were, as may be supposed, almost stricken down by grief when they were told, though as cautiously as possible by Mr Paget, of what had occurred. Not till night had arrived, and all hopes had been abandoned, could they be induced to leave the deck. They stood with their hands clasped together, looking out over the tossing sea as though they expected the boat which contained him they loved so much would appear again in sight.

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