Chapter Seven.Historical but not Heavy.There can be no question of the fact that authentic history sends its roots into the subsoil of fabulous antiquity. In turning to the records of submarine exploration we are staggered on the very threshold of the question with obvious absurdity. We are depressed. We seek to dive into our subject, but find it too deep for us. If we were to put on the latest “patent improved diving-dress,” with all its accompaniments of double-extra pumps, pipes, powers, and purchases, and descend to a depth of antiquity that would suffice to collapse a whale, we should find nothing but idiotic speculation in the midst of chaotic darkness.In this chapter we shall give a mere outline, and even that somewhat disjointed, of the subject of diving. We feel tempted to pass by the fabulous period altogether, but fear lest, in our effort to eschew the false, we do damage to the true. Perhaps, therefore, it were well to walk humbly in the beaten path of our forefathers, and begin at the beginning.It is not certain whether Adam was a diver. There is reason to believe that he wore no “dress” of any kind at first, so that, if he dived at all, he must have used his natural powers alone. These powers, we learn from the best authorities, are barely sufficient to enable a man to stay under water for two minutes at the furthest. Experience corroborates these “best authorities.” It has been asserted that pearl-divers can sometimes stay under water as long as three, four, and even five minutes, but we don’t believe the assertion. If the reader does, we have no hesitation in pronouncing him—or her—credulous.To return to Adam. We have no doubt whatever that he—perhaps Eve also—could dive. It is possible, though not probable, that they “guddled” small trout in the streams of Paradise, and dived for the big ones in the deeper pools. Wemaybe wrong in supposing that they did, but he would certainly be bold who should assert that they didnot. Unfortunately neither Adam nor Eve used the pen, therefore we have no authentic records as to the art of diving at that period of the world’s history.The first writer who makes reference to diving is Homer, who is supposed to have lived somewhere about a thousand years before the Christian era, and he refers to it not as a novelty but in an off-hand way that proves it to have been at that time a well-known art, practised for the purpose of obtaining oysters. Then we find Aeschylus comparing mental vision to the strong natural eye of the “deep diver.” But Thucydides speaks more definitely of divers having been employed at the siege of Syracuse to cut down barriers which had been constructed below water; to damage the Grecian vessels while attempting to enter the harbour, and, generally, to go under and injure the enemy’s ships. All this inclines us to think they must at that time have learned to supplement their natural powers with artificial.Livy mentions the fact that the ancients employed divers for the purpose of recovering property from the sea. The Rhodians had a law fixing the share of the recovered treasure which was due to the divers who saved it. According to this law the remuneration was in proportion to the depth from which it was brought up, and the risk incurred. But as these divers considered four fathoms or thereabouts an extreme and dangerous depth, it is probable that they did their work in the natural way without the aid of apparatus.For the benefit of the credulous we may mention several statements which have been more or less received. The Dutch were once celebrated divers, and it is reported that some of them have remained under water more than an hour! From this report some have argued that these Dutchmen must have possessed artificial means of maintaining life below water. To this we reply, if that were so, is it likely that the reporter who made reference to the length of time spent below water was ignorant as to the means—if any—by which this apparent miracle was accomplished? And if he was not ignorant, would he have passed over such means in silence? The idea is absurd. The probability is rather that the reporter had been gulled, or was fond of drawing the “long bow.”Again, mention is made by one Mersennius of a man who could remain six hours under water! If Mersennius were in a position to become acquainted with that diver’s powers, how comes it that he failed to become acquainted with his apparatus? Simply because there was no such apparatus, and the whole affair is a fable.But the most remarkable of these stories is recorded by a certain Father Kircher, who might appropriately be styled a father of lies! Here ishisfabrication:—In the time of Frederick of Sicily there lived a man named Nicolo Pesce,—Nicholas the Fish. This man’s powers seem to have been decidedly superhuman. He was evidently an amphibious animal. He appears to have acted the part of ocean-postman in these old times, for it is related of him that he used to carry letters for the king far and wide about the Mediterranean. On one occasion a vessel found him out of sight of land in the discharge of ocean-postal duty—bearing despatches of the king from Sicily to Calabria. They took him on board and had a chat with him. It is not said that they smoked a friendly pipe with him or gave him a glass of grog, but we think it probable that they did! After a little rest and refreshment Nicholas the Fish bade them good-bye, jumped overboard, and continued his voyage. The end of this poor man was very sad. The king, being seized with an insane desire to know something about the depths of the terrible gulf of Charybdis, offered Nicholas a golden cup if he would dive down and explore them. He dived accordingly, remained below nearly an hour, and brought back a glowing account of the wonders and horrors of the seething whirlpool. The king, far from being satisfied, became more than ever desirous of knowledge. He asked Nicholas to dive again, and tempted him with the offer of another and larger cup, as well as a purse of gold. The poor Fish, after some hesitation, again dived into the gulf and was never more heard of!We don’t wonder at it. The greatest wonder is, that Nicolo Pesce ever obtained a place in the encyclopaedias of the world. From the fact, however, that he has been thus rescued from oblivion, we conclude, that although much that is said of him is false, the man himself was not a myth, but a fact; that he was a man of the Captain Webb type, who possessed extraordinary powers of swimming, perhaps of diving, to the extent, it may be, of nearly three minutes, and that he possibly lost his life by rashly venturing into the vortex of some dangerous whirlpool. That he did not use diving apparatus of any kind is clear from the fact that nothing is said about such apparatus, which, had it really existed, would have claimed as much attention and caused as much talk as did the man himself.The earliest authentic records we have of the use of diving apparatus belong to the beginning of the sixteenth century. In an edition of Vegetius on theArt of War, published in 1511, there is an engraving of a diver walking in the sea with a cap over his head and shoulders, from which a flexible tube rises to the surface. This was, no doubt, the embryo of our “diving-dress.” John Taisner, in 1538, says that he saw two Greeks, at Toledo in Spain, make experiments with diving apparatus, in presence of the Emperor Charles the Fifth and ten thousand spectators. Gaspar Schott of Numberg, in 1664, refers to this Greek machine as an “aquatic kettle;” but mentions, as preferable in his estimation, a species of “aquatic armour,” which enabled those who wore it to walk under water. The “aquatic kettle” was doubtless the embryo of the diving-bell.From that time onward inventive minds have been turned, with more or less success, towards the subject of submarine operations, and many are the contrivances—clever, queer, absurd, and useful—which have been the outcome. Not content with “kettles” and “bells,” by means of which they could descend into the deep and remain there for an hour or more at a time, and with “armour” and “dresses” with which they could walk about at the bottom of the sea, men have constructed several submarine boats and machines, in which, shut up like Jonah in the whale, they purposed to move about from place to place, sink to the bottom and rise to the surface, at will, or go under the bottoms of enemy’s ships and fix torpedoes wherewith to blow them up, and otherwise do them damage. These latter machines have not attained to any noteworthy degree of success—at least they have not yet done either much good or much harm to the human race; but the former—the “kettles” and the “armour,”—in other words, the “diving-bells” and “dresses”—have attained to a high degree of perfection and efficiency, and have done incalculable good service.The diving-bell was so styled owing to the first machines being made in the shape of a gigantic bell. An inverted wine-glass, thrust mouth downwards into water, will not fill with water, owing to the air which it contains keeping the water out. It will partially fill, however, because air is compressible, and the deeper down it is thrust the more will the air be compressed. At a depth of thirty-three feet the air will be compressed to half its bulk—in other words, the glass will be half-full of water. It is clear that a fly or any small insect could live in the air thus confined although thrust to great depths under water. But it could not live long, because air becomes unfit for use after being breathed a certain time, and cannot sustain life. Hence, if we are to preserve the life of our fly, we must send fresh air down to it.The first diving-bells were made so large that the air contained in them sufficed for a considerable period—an hour or more. When this air had lost its life-sustaining qualities, the bell had to be drawn up and the air renewed. This was so inconvenient that ingenious men soon hit on various plans to renew the air without raising the bells. One plan, that of Dr Halley, was to send air down in tight casks, which were emptied into the bell and then sent up, full of water, for a fresh supply of air, while the foul air was let out of the bell by a valve in the top. Another plan was to have tubes from the bell to the surface by which air was made to circulate downwards, at first being forced down by a pair of bellows, and afterwards by means of air-pumps.Round the inside of the bell ran a seat for the divers. One or more holes fitted with thick plate-glass, gave them light and enabled them to use the various tools and implements required in their vocation. From some of these bells, a man could be sent out, when at or near the bottom, having on a water-tight head-piece connected by a tube with the air inside the bell. He could thus move about with more freedom than his comrades inside, but of course could not travel further than the length of his tube, while, being wet, he could not endure the cold for any great length of time.As time went on the form of the bell was improved until that of a square or oblong box of iron came to be generally adopted. The bell now in use is that which was made in 1788 by the celebrated engineer Smeaton, who applied the air forcing-pump to it, and otherwise brought the machine to a high degree of perfection. He used it with great advantage in the works at Ramsgate harbour, and Smeaton’s diving-bell, improved by Rennie, has continued in constant and general use on all submarine works until a very recent period. It has now been almost entirely superseded—except in the case of some special kinds of work—by the diving-dress—the value and the use of which it is the province of our tale to illustrate and expound.In regard to the diving-dress, we may say that it has grown out of the “aquatic armour” of the olden time, but no great advance in its improvement was made until the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the present centuries, when the names of Rowe, Halley, Spalding, Bushwell, and Colt, appear in connection with various clever contrivances to facilitate diving operations. Benjamin Martin, a London optician, made a dress of strong leather in 1778 which fitted his arms and legs as well as his trunk, and held half a hogshead of air. With this he could enter the hold of a sunk vessel, and he is said to have been very successful in the use of it. Mr Kleingert of Breslau, in 1798, designed a dress somewhat like the above, part of which, however, was made of tin-plate. The diving-dress was greatly improved by Mr Deane, and in the recovery of guns, etcetera, from the wreck of theRoyal George, in 1834 to 1836, as well as in many other operations, this dress—much improved, and made by Mr Siebe, under Deane’s directions—did signal service.It has now been brought to a high state of perfection by the well-known submarine engineers Siebe and Gorman, Heinke and Davis, and others, of London, and Denayrouze of Paris. It encases the diver completely from head to foot, is perfectly water-tight, and is made of thick sheet india-rubber covered on both sides with tanned twill—the helmet and breast-plate being metal.For further information on this subject we refer the inquisitive reader to theEncyclopaedia Britannica, to the descriptive pamphlets of the submarine engineers above named, and to an admirable little book styledThe Conquest of the Sea, by Henry Siebe, which contains a full and graphic account in detail of almost everything connected with diving and submarine engineering. (See Note 1.)Note 1. It may interest practical spirits to know that they canseethe diving-dress and apparatus in operation, by going to Number 17 Mason Street, Westminster Bridge Road, London, where Messrs Siebe and Gorman have erected a large Tank for the purpose of illustrating their apparatus. At the Alexandra Palace, also, Messrs Denayrouze and Company have a tank for the same purpose.
There can be no question of the fact that authentic history sends its roots into the subsoil of fabulous antiquity. In turning to the records of submarine exploration we are staggered on the very threshold of the question with obvious absurdity. We are depressed. We seek to dive into our subject, but find it too deep for us. If we were to put on the latest “patent improved diving-dress,” with all its accompaniments of double-extra pumps, pipes, powers, and purchases, and descend to a depth of antiquity that would suffice to collapse a whale, we should find nothing but idiotic speculation in the midst of chaotic darkness.
In this chapter we shall give a mere outline, and even that somewhat disjointed, of the subject of diving. We feel tempted to pass by the fabulous period altogether, but fear lest, in our effort to eschew the false, we do damage to the true. Perhaps, therefore, it were well to walk humbly in the beaten path of our forefathers, and begin at the beginning.
It is not certain whether Adam was a diver. There is reason to believe that he wore no “dress” of any kind at first, so that, if he dived at all, he must have used his natural powers alone. These powers, we learn from the best authorities, are barely sufficient to enable a man to stay under water for two minutes at the furthest. Experience corroborates these “best authorities.” It has been asserted that pearl-divers can sometimes stay under water as long as three, four, and even five minutes, but we don’t believe the assertion. If the reader does, we have no hesitation in pronouncing him—or her—credulous.
To return to Adam. We have no doubt whatever that he—perhaps Eve also—could dive. It is possible, though not probable, that they “guddled” small trout in the streams of Paradise, and dived for the big ones in the deeper pools. Wemaybe wrong in supposing that they did, but he would certainly be bold who should assert that they didnot. Unfortunately neither Adam nor Eve used the pen, therefore we have no authentic records as to the art of diving at that period of the world’s history.
The first writer who makes reference to diving is Homer, who is supposed to have lived somewhere about a thousand years before the Christian era, and he refers to it not as a novelty but in an off-hand way that proves it to have been at that time a well-known art, practised for the purpose of obtaining oysters. Then we find Aeschylus comparing mental vision to the strong natural eye of the “deep diver.” But Thucydides speaks more definitely of divers having been employed at the siege of Syracuse to cut down barriers which had been constructed below water; to damage the Grecian vessels while attempting to enter the harbour, and, generally, to go under and injure the enemy’s ships. All this inclines us to think they must at that time have learned to supplement their natural powers with artificial.
Livy mentions the fact that the ancients employed divers for the purpose of recovering property from the sea. The Rhodians had a law fixing the share of the recovered treasure which was due to the divers who saved it. According to this law the remuneration was in proportion to the depth from which it was brought up, and the risk incurred. But as these divers considered four fathoms or thereabouts an extreme and dangerous depth, it is probable that they did their work in the natural way without the aid of apparatus.
For the benefit of the credulous we may mention several statements which have been more or less received. The Dutch were once celebrated divers, and it is reported that some of them have remained under water more than an hour! From this report some have argued that these Dutchmen must have possessed artificial means of maintaining life below water. To this we reply, if that were so, is it likely that the reporter who made reference to the length of time spent below water was ignorant as to the means—if any—by which this apparent miracle was accomplished? And if he was not ignorant, would he have passed over such means in silence? The idea is absurd. The probability is rather that the reporter had been gulled, or was fond of drawing the “long bow.”
Again, mention is made by one Mersennius of a man who could remain six hours under water! If Mersennius were in a position to become acquainted with that diver’s powers, how comes it that he failed to become acquainted with his apparatus? Simply because there was no such apparatus, and the whole affair is a fable.
But the most remarkable of these stories is recorded by a certain Father Kircher, who might appropriately be styled a father of lies! Here ishisfabrication:—
In the time of Frederick of Sicily there lived a man named Nicolo Pesce,—Nicholas the Fish. This man’s powers seem to have been decidedly superhuman. He was evidently an amphibious animal. He appears to have acted the part of ocean-postman in these old times, for it is related of him that he used to carry letters for the king far and wide about the Mediterranean. On one occasion a vessel found him out of sight of land in the discharge of ocean-postal duty—bearing despatches of the king from Sicily to Calabria. They took him on board and had a chat with him. It is not said that they smoked a friendly pipe with him or gave him a glass of grog, but we think it probable that they did! After a little rest and refreshment Nicholas the Fish bade them good-bye, jumped overboard, and continued his voyage. The end of this poor man was very sad. The king, being seized with an insane desire to know something about the depths of the terrible gulf of Charybdis, offered Nicholas a golden cup if he would dive down and explore them. He dived accordingly, remained below nearly an hour, and brought back a glowing account of the wonders and horrors of the seething whirlpool. The king, far from being satisfied, became more than ever desirous of knowledge. He asked Nicholas to dive again, and tempted him with the offer of another and larger cup, as well as a purse of gold. The poor Fish, after some hesitation, again dived into the gulf and was never more heard of!
We don’t wonder at it. The greatest wonder is, that Nicolo Pesce ever obtained a place in the encyclopaedias of the world. From the fact, however, that he has been thus rescued from oblivion, we conclude, that although much that is said of him is false, the man himself was not a myth, but a fact; that he was a man of the Captain Webb type, who possessed extraordinary powers of swimming, perhaps of diving, to the extent, it may be, of nearly three minutes, and that he possibly lost his life by rashly venturing into the vortex of some dangerous whirlpool. That he did not use diving apparatus of any kind is clear from the fact that nothing is said about such apparatus, which, had it really existed, would have claimed as much attention and caused as much talk as did the man himself.
The earliest authentic records we have of the use of diving apparatus belong to the beginning of the sixteenth century. In an edition of Vegetius on theArt of War, published in 1511, there is an engraving of a diver walking in the sea with a cap over his head and shoulders, from which a flexible tube rises to the surface. This was, no doubt, the embryo of our “diving-dress.” John Taisner, in 1538, says that he saw two Greeks, at Toledo in Spain, make experiments with diving apparatus, in presence of the Emperor Charles the Fifth and ten thousand spectators. Gaspar Schott of Numberg, in 1664, refers to this Greek machine as an “aquatic kettle;” but mentions, as preferable in his estimation, a species of “aquatic armour,” which enabled those who wore it to walk under water. The “aquatic kettle” was doubtless the embryo of the diving-bell.
From that time onward inventive minds have been turned, with more or less success, towards the subject of submarine operations, and many are the contrivances—clever, queer, absurd, and useful—which have been the outcome. Not content with “kettles” and “bells,” by means of which they could descend into the deep and remain there for an hour or more at a time, and with “armour” and “dresses” with which they could walk about at the bottom of the sea, men have constructed several submarine boats and machines, in which, shut up like Jonah in the whale, they purposed to move about from place to place, sink to the bottom and rise to the surface, at will, or go under the bottoms of enemy’s ships and fix torpedoes wherewith to blow them up, and otherwise do them damage. These latter machines have not attained to any noteworthy degree of success—at least they have not yet done either much good or much harm to the human race; but the former—the “kettles” and the “armour,”—in other words, the “diving-bells” and “dresses”—have attained to a high degree of perfection and efficiency, and have done incalculable good service.
The diving-bell was so styled owing to the first machines being made in the shape of a gigantic bell. An inverted wine-glass, thrust mouth downwards into water, will not fill with water, owing to the air which it contains keeping the water out. It will partially fill, however, because air is compressible, and the deeper down it is thrust the more will the air be compressed. At a depth of thirty-three feet the air will be compressed to half its bulk—in other words, the glass will be half-full of water. It is clear that a fly or any small insect could live in the air thus confined although thrust to great depths under water. But it could not live long, because air becomes unfit for use after being breathed a certain time, and cannot sustain life. Hence, if we are to preserve the life of our fly, we must send fresh air down to it.
The first diving-bells were made so large that the air contained in them sufficed for a considerable period—an hour or more. When this air had lost its life-sustaining qualities, the bell had to be drawn up and the air renewed. This was so inconvenient that ingenious men soon hit on various plans to renew the air without raising the bells. One plan, that of Dr Halley, was to send air down in tight casks, which were emptied into the bell and then sent up, full of water, for a fresh supply of air, while the foul air was let out of the bell by a valve in the top. Another plan was to have tubes from the bell to the surface by which air was made to circulate downwards, at first being forced down by a pair of bellows, and afterwards by means of air-pumps.
Round the inside of the bell ran a seat for the divers. One or more holes fitted with thick plate-glass, gave them light and enabled them to use the various tools and implements required in their vocation. From some of these bells, a man could be sent out, when at or near the bottom, having on a water-tight head-piece connected by a tube with the air inside the bell. He could thus move about with more freedom than his comrades inside, but of course could not travel further than the length of his tube, while, being wet, he could not endure the cold for any great length of time.
As time went on the form of the bell was improved until that of a square or oblong box of iron came to be generally adopted. The bell now in use is that which was made in 1788 by the celebrated engineer Smeaton, who applied the air forcing-pump to it, and otherwise brought the machine to a high degree of perfection. He used it with great advantage in the works at Ramsgate harbour, and Smeaton’s diving-bell, improved by Rennie, has continued in constant and general use on all submarine works until a very recent period. It has now been almost entirely superseded—except in the case of some special kinds of work—by the diving-dress—the value and the use of which it is the province of our tale to illustrate and expound.
In regard to the diving-dress, we may say that it has grown out of the “aquatic armour” of the olden time, but no great advance in its improvement was made until the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the present centuries, when the names of Rowe, Halley, Spalding, Bushwell, and Colt, appear in connection with various clever contrivances to facilitate diving operations. Benjamin Martin, a London optician, made a dress of strong leather in 1778 which fitted his arms and legs as well as his trunk, and held half a hogshead of air. With this he could enter the hold of a sunk vessel, and he is said to have been very successful in the use of it. Mr Kleingert of Breslau, in 1798, designed a dress somewhat like the above, part of which, however, was made of tin-plate. The diving-dress was greatly improved by Mr Deane, and in the recovery of guns, etcetera, from the wreck of theRoyal George, in 1834 to 1836, as well as in many other operations, this dress—much improved, and made by Mr Siebe, under Deane’s directions—did signal service.
It has now been brought to a high state of perfection by the well-known submarine engineers Siebe and Gorman, Heinke and Davis, and others, of London, and Denayrouze of Paris. It encases the diver completely from head to foot, is perfectly water-tight, and is made of thick sheet india-rubber covered on both sides with tanned twill—the helmet and breast-plate being metal.
For further information on this subject we refer the inquisitive reader to theEncyclopaedia Britannica, to the descriptive pamphlets of the submarine engineers above named, and to an admirable little book styledThe Conquest of the Sea, by Henry Siebe, which contains a full and graphic account in detail of almost everything connected with diving and submarine engineering. (See Note 1.)
Note 1. It may interest practical spirits to know that they canseethe diving-dress and apparatus in operation, by going to Number 17 Mason Street, Westminster Bridge Road, London, where Messrs Siebe and Gorman have erected a large Tank for the purpose of illustrating their apparatus. At the Alexandra Palace, also, Messrs Denayrouze and Company have a tank for the same purpose.
Chapter Eight.The Grinding of the Screw.It is proverbial that incidents in themselves trivial frequently form the hinges on which great events turn. When Edgar Berrington went to London he learned that the owners of the fine ocean-steamer theWarriorwished him to become their chief engineer for that voyage, the previous chief having been suddenly taken ill and obliged to leave them. Although flattered by the proposal, and the terms in which it was made, Edgar declined it, for, having acquired all the knowledge he desired about marine engines during the voyage out and home, he did not wish to waste more time at sea. The owner, however, being aware of his worth, was not to be put off with a first refusal. He took Edgar into his private room and reasoned with him.“Come now, Mr Berrington, consider my proposal again. You’ll go, won’t you?”“Impossible,” replied Edgar. “You are very kind, and I assure you that I fully appreciate your offer, but—”He was interrupted by a clerk who entered at the moment and spoke a few words in an under tone to the owner.“Excuse me one minute, Mr Berrington,” said the latter, rising quickly. “I shall return immediately. There is a newspaper, to look—no—where is it? Ah! No matter: here is a list of the passengers going out to China in theWarrior. It may amuse you. Perhaps you may find a friend amongst them.”Left alone, Edgar ran his eye carelessly over the names—thinking the while of the disagreeables of another long sea-voyage, and strengthening his resolves not to be tempted to go.Now, the careless glance at this passenger-list was the apparently trifling incident on which hinged the whole of our hero’s future career; his careless glance became suddenly fixed and attentive; his eyebrows lifted to their utmost elevation and his face flushed crimson, for there he beheld the names of Charles Hazlit, Esquire, and his daughter, Miss Aileen Hazlit.Just at that moment the owner of theWarriorreturned. This owner was an intelligent, shrewd man—quick to observe. He noted the flush on Edgar’s countenance, and Edgar immediately blew his nose with violence to account for the flush.“Well now, Mr Berrington, what say you?” he resumed.Poor Edgar knew not what to say. A reply had to be given at once. He had no time to think. Aileen going to China! An offer of a situation in the same vessel!“Well, sir,” said our hero, with sudden decision, “I will go.”Of course the owner expressed himself well pleased, and then there followed a deal of nautico-scientific talk, after which Edgar ventured to say—“I observe the name of Mr Charles Hazlit on your list. He is an acquaintance of mine. Do you happen to know what takes him so far from home?”“Can’t say exactly,” replied the other. “I think some one told me his affairs in China require looking after, and his daughter’s health necessitates a long sea-voyage.”“Health!” exclaimed Edgar, striving to look and speak in a comparatively indifferent manner. “She was quite well when I saw her last.”“Very likely,” said the owner, with a smile, “but it does not take long to make a young lady ill—especially when her heart is touched. Some sort of rumour floats in my mind to the effect that Miss Hazlit is going out to China to be married, or requires to go out because she doesn’t want to be married—I forget which. But it comes pretty much to the same thing in the end!”“Hah!” said Edgar shortly.If he had said “Oh!” in tones of agony, it would have been more truly expressive of his feelings.The moment he got out of the office and felt the cool air of the street he repented of his decision and pronounced himself to be a consummate donkey!“There,” thought he, “I’ve made a fool of myself. I’ve engaged for a long voyage in a capacity which precludes the possibility of my associating with the passengers, for not only must nearly all my waking hours be spent down beside the engine, but when I come up to cool myself I must perforce do so in dirty costume, with oily hands and face, quite in an unfit state to be seen by Aileen, and without the slightest right to take any notice of her. Oh! Donkey—goose that you are, Eddy! But you’ve done it now, and can’t undo it, therefore you must go through with it.”Thinking of himself in this lowly strain he went home to the solitude of his lodging, sat down before his tea-table, thrust both hands into his pockets, and, in a by no means unhappy frame of mind, brooded over his trials and sorrows.Let us change the scene now. We are out upon the sea—in a floating palace. And oh how that palace rushes onward, ever onward, without rest, without check, night and day, cleaving its way irresistibly through the mighty deep. Mighty! Ah!howmighty no one on board can tell so well as that thin, gentle, evidently dying youth who leans over the stern watching the screws and the “wake” that seems to rush behind, marking off, as it were mile by mile, the vast and ever-increasing space—never to be re-traversed he knows full well—that separates him from home and all that is dear to him on earth.The palace is made of iron—hard, unyielding, unbeautiful, uncompromising iron,—but her cushions are soft, her gilding is gorgeous, her fittings are elegant, her food is sumptuous, her society—at least much of it—is refined. Of course representatives of the unrefined are also there—in the after-cabin too—just as there are specimens of the refined in the fore-cabin. But, taking them all in all, they are a remarkably harmonious band, the inhabitants of this iron palace, from the captain to the cabin-boy inclusive. The latter is a sprightly imp; the former is—to use the expression of one of the unrefined—“a brick.” He is not tall—few sea-captains seem to be so—but he is very broad, and manly, and as strong as an elephant. He is a pattern captain. Gallant to the lady passengers, chatty with the gentlemen, polite to the unrefined, sedately grave among the officers and crew, and jocular to the children; in short, he is all things to all men—and much of the harmony on board is due to his unconscious influence. He has a handsome face, glittering black eyes, an aquiline nose that commands respect, and a black beard and moustache that covered a firm mouth and chin.Grinding is one of the prominent ideas that are suggested on board the iron palace. There are many other ideas, no doubt. Among seventy or eighty educated and intelligent human beings of both sexes and all ages it could not be otherwise. We allude, however, to the boat—not to the passengers. The screw grinds and the engine grinds incessantly. When one thinks of a thing, or things, going round and round, or up and down, regularly, uninterruptedly, vigorously, doggedly, obstinately, hour after hour, one is impressed, to say the least; and when one thinks of the said thing, or things, going on thus, night and day without rest, one is solemnised; but when one meditates on these motions being continued for many weeks together, one has a tendency to feel mentally overwhelmed.The great crank that grinds the screw, and is itself ground by the piston—not to mention the cylinder and boiler—works in a dark place deep down in the engine-room, like a giant hand constantly engaged on deeds of violence and evil.Here Edgar Berrington, clothed in white canvas and oil, finds genial companionship. He dotes on the great crank. It is a sympathetic thing. It represents his feelings wonderfully. Returning from the deck after inhaling a little fresh air, he leans against the iron bulkhead in these clanking depths and gazes gloomily and for prolonged periods at the crank while it grinds with a sort of vicious energy that seems in strange harmony with his soul. Sometimes he grinds his teeth as a sort of obbligato accompaniment—especially if he has while on deck, during a wistful gaze at the distant perspective of the aft-regions, beheld, (or fancied he has beheld) a familiar and adored form.At first the passengers were sick—very sick, most of them—insomuch that there were some who would gladly, if possible, have surrendered their lives with their dinners; but by degrees they began to improve, and to regard meals with anticipation instead of loathing. When the sunny and calm latitudes near the line were reached, every one grew well and hearty, and at last there was not a sad soul on board except the poor sick lad who studied the screw and measured the ever-increasing distance from home. One of the first evidences of the return of health was the sound of song. When the nights were clear and calm, and naught was audible save the grinding of the screw, the passengers crystallised naturally into groups in the same way that ice-particles arrange themselves in sympathetic stars; and from several such constellations the music of the spheres was naturally evolved.One of these crystals was formed, usually in a tent on deck, by the attractive influence of smoke. It was consequently not a bright crystal, and included particles both refined and otherwise. Its music was gruff for the most part, sometimes growly. There was another crystal which varied its position occasionally—according to the position of the moon, for it was a crystal formed of romantic elements. One of its parts was a Scottish maiden whose voice was melodious, flexible, and very sweet. Her face and spirit had been made to match. She had many admirers, and a bosom-friend of kindly heart and aspect, with wealth of golden hair, in some respects like herself.Our heroine Aileen, being passionately fond of music, and herself a sweet singer, attached herself to this crystal, and became as it were another bosom-friend.Two bearded men were also much given to seek attachment to this crystal. They also seemed knit to each other in bosom-friendship—if we may venture to use such a term with reference to bearded men. One was amateurly musical, the other powerfully sympathetic. A pastor, of unusually stalwart proportions, with a gentle pretty wife and lovable family, also had a decided leaning to this crystal.One evening the group, finding its favourite part of the deck occupied, was driven to a position near the tent of the smoky crystal, and, sitting down not far from the engineer’s quarters, began to indulge in song. Grave and gay alternated. Duets followed; trios ensued, and miscellaneous new forms of harmony sometimes intervened.“Do sing a solo, Miss Hazlit,” said the Scottish maiden. “I like your voicesomuch, and want to hear it alone. Will you sing?”Aileen had an obliging spirit. She at once began, in a low contralto voice, “I cannot sing the old songs.”Sometimes in private life one hears a voice so sweet, so thrilling, with a “something” so powerful in it, that one feels, amid other sensations of pleasure, great satisfaction to think that none of the public singers in the world could “bat that” if they were to try their best, and that few of them could equal it!Such a voice was that of our heroine. It drew towards her the soul, body, and spirit of the music-lovers who listened. Of course we do not deny that there were some who could not be drawn thus. There were a few, among the smoky crystals, for whom a draw of the pipe or a mildly drawn pot of bitter beer had greater charms than sweet sounds, however melting. With the exceptions of these, nearly all who chanced to be within hearing drew near to the musical group, and listened while that most, beautiful of songs was being warbled in tones not loud but inexpressibly pathetic.Among the listeners was our friend Edgar Berrington. Seated, as usual, in front of the great crank, with bare muscular arms folded on his broad chest and a dark frown on his forehead, he riveted his eyes on the crank as if it were the author of all his anxieties. Suddenly the terminating lines, “I cannot sing the old songs, they are too dear to me,” rising above the din of machinery, floated gently down through iron lattice-work, beams, rods, cranks, and bars, and smote upon his ear.Like a galvanised man he sprang on his legs and stood erect. Then, if we may say so, like a human rocket, he shot upwards and stood on the margin of the crowd. Being head and shoulders over most of them he observed a clear space beside the singer. The night was dark, features could not be discerned, even forms were not easily recognisable. He glided into the open space, and silently but promptly sat down on the deck beside Aileen. His elbow even touched one of the folds of her garment. He went straight into paradise and remained there!As for Aileen, if she observed the action at all, she probably set it down to the enthusiasm of a more than usually musical member of the ship’s crew.While she was still dwelling on the last note, a grinding sound was heard and a slight tremor felt that not only stopped the song abruptly but checked the applause that was ready to burst from every lip and hand. Edgar vanished from the spot where he sat quite as quickly as he had appeared, and in a moment was at his station. The captain’s voice was heard on the bridge. The signal was given to stop the engines—to back them—to stop again. Eager inquiries followed—“What’s that? Did you feel it? Hear it? Could it be a rock? Impossible, surely?” No one could answer with knowledge or authority, save those who were too busy to be spoken to. Accustomed as they all were for many weeks past to the ceaseless motion of the engines, the sudden stoppage had a strange and solemnising effect on most of the passengers. Presently the order was given to steam ahead, and once more they breathed more freely on hearing again the familiar grinding of the screw.To the anxious inquiries afterwards made of him, the captain only smiled and said he could not tell what it was—perhaps it might have been a piece of wreck. “But it did not feel like that, captain,” objected one of the passengers, who, having frequently been to sea before, was regarded as being semi-nautical; “it was too like a touch on something solid. You’ve heard, I suppose, of coral reefs growing in places where none are marked on our charts?”“I have,” answered the captain drily.“Might it not be something of the kind?”“It might,” replied the captain.“We are not far from the coast of China, are we?” asked the semi-nautical passenger.“Not very far.”Seeing that the captain was not disposed to be communicative, the semi-nautical passenger retired to persecute and terrify some of the ladies with his surmises. Meanwhile the well was sounded and a slight increase of water ascertained, but nothing worth speaking of, and the pumps were set to work.The anxiety of the passengers was soon allayed, everything going on as smoothly as before. The evening merged into night. The moon rose slowly and spread a path of rippling silver from the ship to the horizon. The various groups began to un-crystallise. Sleepy ones went below and melted away somehow. Sleepless ones went to their great panacea, smoke. Lights were put out everywhere save where the duties of the ship required them to burn continually. At last the latest of the sleepless turned in, and none were wakeful through the iron palace except the poor youth who mentally measured the distance from home, and the officers and men on duty. Among the latter was Edgar Berrington, who, standing at his accustomed post down in his own iron depths, pondered the events of the evening while he watched the motions of the great crank and listened to the grinding of the screw.
It is proverbial that incidents in themselves trivial frequently form the hinges on which great events turn. When Edgar Berrington went to London he learned that the owners of the fine ocean-steamer theWarriorwished him to become their chief engineer for that voyage, the previous chief having been suddenly taken ill and obliged to leave them. Although flattered by the proposal, and the terms in which it was made, Edgar declined it, for, having acquired all the knowledge he desired about marine engines during the voyage out and home, he did not wish to waste more time at sea. The owner, however, being aware of his worth, was not to be put off with a first refusal. He took Edgar into his private room and reasoned with him.
“Come now, Mr Berrington, consider my proposal again. You’ll go, won’t you?”
“Impossible,” replied Edgar. “You are very kind, and I assure you that I fully appreciate your offer, but—”
He was interrupted by a clerk who entered at the moment and spoke a few words in an under tone to the owner.
“Excuse me one minute, Mr Berrington,” said the latter, rising quickly. “I shall return immediately. There is a newspaper, to look—no—where is it? Ah! No matter: here is a list of the passengers going out to China in theWarrior. It may amuse you. Perhaps you may find a friend amongst them.”
Left alone, Edgar ran his eye carelessly over the names—thinking the while of the disagreeables of another long sea-voyage, and strengthening his resolves not to be tempted to go.
Now, the careless glance at this passenger-list was the apparently trifling incident on which hinged the whole of our hero’s future career; his careless glance became suddenly fixed and attentive; his eyebrows lifted to their utmost elevation and his face flushed crimson, for there he beheld the names of Charles Hazlit, Esquire, and his daughter, Miss Aileen Hazlit.
Just at that moment the owner of theWarriorreturned. This owner was an intelligent, shrewd man—quick to observe. He noted the flush on Edgar’s countenance, and Edgar immediately blew his nose with violence to account for the flush.
“Well now, Mr Berrington, what say you?” he resumed.
Poor Edgar knew not what to say. A reply had to be given at once. He had no time to think. Aileen going to China! An offer of a situation in the same vessel!
“Well, sir,” said our hero, with sudden decision, “I will go.”
Of course the owner expressed himself well pleased, and then there followed a deal of nautico-scientific talk, after which Edgar ventured to say—
“I observe the name of Mr Charles Hazlit on your list. He is an acquaintance of mine. Do you happen to know what takes him so far from home?”
“Can’t say exactly,” replied the other. “I think some one told me his affairs in China require looking after, and his daughter’s health necessitates a long sea-voyage.”
“Health!” exclaimed Edgar, striving to look and speak in a comparatively indifferent manner. “She was quite well when I saw her last.”
“Very likely,” said the owner, with a smile, “but it does not take long to make a young lady ill—especially when her heart is touched. Some sort of rumour floats in my mind to the effect that Miss Hazlit is going out to China to be married, or requires to go out because she doesn’t want to be married—I forget which. But it comes pretty much to the same thing in the end!”
“Hah!” said Edgar shortly.
If he had said “Oh!” in tones of agony, it would have been more truly expressive of his feelings.
The moment he got out of the office and felt the cool air of the street he repented of his decision and pronounced himself to be a consummate donkey!
“There,” thought he, “I’ve made a fool of myself. I’ve engaged for a long voyage in a capacity which precludes the possibility of my associating with the passengers, for not only must nearly all my waking hours be spent down beside the engine, but when I come up to cool myself I must perforce do so in dirty costume, with oily hands and face, quite in an unfit state to be seen by Aileen, and without the slightest right to take any notice of her. Oh! Donkey—goose that you are, Eddy! But you’ve done it now, and can’t undo it, therefore you must go through with it.”
Thinking of himself in this lowly strain he went home to the solitude of his lodging, sat down before his tea-table, thrust both hands into his pockets, and, in a by no means unhappy frame of mind, brooded over his trials and sorrows.
Let us change the scene now. We are out upon the sea—in a floating palace. And oh how that palace rushes onward, ever onward, without rest, without check, night and day, cleaving its way irresistibly through the mighty deep. Mighty! Ah!howmighty no one on board can tell so well as that thin, gentle, evidently dying youth who leans over the stern watching the screws and the “wake” that seems to rush behind, marking off, as it were mile by mile, the vast and ever-increasing space—never to be re-traversed he knows full well—that separates him from home and all that is dear to him on earth.
The palace is made of iron—hard, unyielding, unbeautiful, uncompromising iron,—but her cushions are soft, her gilding is gorgeous, her fittings are elegant, her food is sumptuous, her society—at least much of it—is refined. Of course representatives of the unrefined are also there—in the after-cabin too—just as there are specimens of the refined in the fore-cabin. But, taking them all in all, they are a remarkably harmonious band, the inhabitants of this iron palace, from the captain to the cabin-boy inclusive. The latter is a sprightly imp; the former is—to use the expression of one of the unrefined—“a brick.” He is not tall—few sea-captains seem to be so—but he is very broad, and manly, and as strong as an elephant. He is a pattern captain. Gallant to the lady passengers, chatty with the gentlemen, polite to the unrefined, sedately grave among the officers and crew, and jocular to the children; in short, he is all things to all men—and much of the harmony on board is due to his unconscious influence. He has a handsome face, glittering black eyes, an aquiline nose that commands respect, and a black beard and moustache that covered a firm mouth and chin.
Grinding is one of the prominent ideas that are suggested on board the iron palace. There are many other ideas, no doubt. Among seventy or eighty educated and intelligent human beings of both sexes and all ages it could not be otherwise. We allude, however, to the boat—not to the passengers. The screw grinds and the engine grinds incessantly. When one thinks of a thing, or things, going round and round, or up and down, regularly, uninterruptedly, vigorously, doggedly, obstinately, hour after hour, one is impressed, to say the least; and when one thinks of the said thing, or things, going on thus, night and day without rest, one is solemnised; but when one meditates on these motions being continued for many weeks together, one has a tendency to feel mentally overwhelmed.
The great crank that grinds the screw, and is itself ground by the piston—not to mention the cylinder and boiler—works in a dark place deep down in the engine-room, like a giant hand constantly engaged on deeds of violence and evil.
Here Edgar Berrington, clothed in white canvas and oil, finds genial companionship. He dotes on the great crank. It is a sympathetic thing. It represents his feelings wonderfully. Returning from the deck after inhaling a little fresh air, he leans against the iron bulkhead in these clanking depths and gazes gloomily and for prolonged periods at the crank while it grinds with a sort of vicious energy that seems in strange harmony with his soul. Sometimes he grinds his teeth as a sort of obbligato accompaniment—especially if he has while on deck, during a wistful gaze at the distant perspective of the aft-regions, beheld, (or fancied he has beheld) a familiar and adored form.
At first the passengers were sick—very sick, most of them—insomuch that there were some who would gladly, if possible, have surrendered their lives with their dinners; but by degrees they began to improve, and to regard meals with anticipation instead of loathing. When the sunny and calm latitudes near the line were reached, every one grew well and hearty, and at last there was not a sad soul on board except the poor sick lad who studied the screw and measured the ever-increasing distance from home. One of the first evidences of the return of health was the sound of song. When the nights were clear and calm, and naught was audible save the grinding of the screw, the passengers crystallised naturally into groups in the same way that ice-particles arrange themselves in sympathetic stars; and from several such constellations the music of the spheres was naturally evolved.
One of these crystals was formed, usually in a tent on deck, by the attractive influence of smoke. It was consequently not a bright crystal, and included particles both refined and otherwise. Its music was gruff for the most part, sometimes growly. There was another crystal which varied its position occasionally—according to the position of the moon, for it was a crystal formed of romantic elements. One of its parts was a Scottish maiden whose voice was melodious, flexible, and very sweet. Her face and spirit had been made to match. She had many admirers, and a bosom-friend of kindly heart and aspect, with wealth of golden hair, in some respects like herself.
Our heroine Aileen, being passionately fond of music, and herself a sweet singer, attached herself to this crystal, and became as it were another bosom-friend.
Two bearded men were also much given to seek attachment to this crystal. They also seemed knit to each other in bosom-friendship—if we may venture to use such a term with reference to bearded men. One was amateurly musical, the other powerfully sympathetic. A pastor, of unusually stalwart proportions, with a gentle pretty wife and lovable family, also had a decided leaning to this crystal.
One evening the group, finding its favourite part of the deck occupied, was driven to a position near the tent of the smoky crystal, and, sitting down not far from the engineer’s quarters, began to indulge in song. Grave and gay alternated. Duets followed; trios ensued, and miscellaneous new forms of harmony sometimes intervened.
“Do sing a solo, Miss Hazlit,” said the Scottish maiden. “I like your voicesomuch, and want to hear it alone. Will you sing?”
Aileen had an obliging spirit. She at once began, in a low contralto voice, “I cannot sing the old songs.”
Sometimes in private life one hears a voice so sweet, so thrilling, with a “something” so powerful in it, that one feels, amid other sensations of pleasure, great satisfaction to think that none of the public singers in the world could “bat that” if they were to try their best, and that few of them could equal it!
Such a voice was that of our heroine. It drew towards her the soul, body, and spirit of the music-lovers who listened. Of course we do not deny that there were some who could not be drawn thus. There were a few, among the smoky crystals, for whom a draw of the pipe or a mildly drawn pot of bitter beer had greater charms than sweet sounds, however melting. With the exceptions of these, nearly all who chanced to be within hearing drew near to the musical group, and listened while that most, beautiful of songs was being warbled in tones not loud but inexpressibly pathetic.
Among the listeners was our friend Edgar Berrington. Seated, as usual, in front of the great crank, with bare muscular arms folded on his broad chest and a dark frown on his forehead, he riveted his eyes on the crank as if it were the author of all his anxieties. Suddenly the terminating lines, “I cannot sing the old songs, they are too dear to me,” rising above the din of machinery, floated gently down through iron lattice-work, beams, rods, cranks, and bars, and smote upon his ear.
Like a galvanised man he sprang on his legs and stood erect. Then, if we may say so, like a human rocket, he shot upwards and stood on the margin of the crowd. Being head and shoulders over most of them he observed a clear space beside the singer. The night was dark, features could not be discerned, even forms were not easily recognisable. He glided into the open space, and silently but promptly sat down on the deck beside Aileen. His elbow even touched one of the folds of her garment. He went straight into paradise and remained there!
As for Aileen, if she observed the action at all, she probably set it down to the enthusiasm of a more than usually musical member of the ship’s crew.
While she was still dwelling on the last note, a grinding sound was heard and a slight tremor felt that not only stopped the song abruptly but checked the applause that was ready to burst from every lip and hand. Edgar vanished from the spot where he sat quite as quickly as he had appeared, and in a moment was at his station. The captain’s voice was heard on the bridge. The signal was given to stop the engines—to back them—to stop again. Eager inquiries followed—“What’s that? Did you feel it? Hear it? Could it be a rock? Impossible, surely?” No one could answer with knowledge or authority, save those who were too busy to be spoken to. Accustomed as they all were for many weeks past to the ceaseless motion of the engines, the sudden stoppage had a strange and solemnising effect on most of the passengers. Presently the order was given to steam ahead, and once more they breathed more freely on hearing again the familiar grinding of the screw.
To the anxious inquiries afterwards made of him, the captain only smiled and said he could not tell what it was—perhaps it might have been a piece of wreck. “But it did not feel like that, captain,” objected one of the passengers, who, having frequently been to sea before, was regarded as being semi-nautical; “it was too like a touch on something solid. You’ve heard, I suppose, of coral reefs growing in places where none are marked on our charts?”
“I have,” answered the captain drily.
“Might it not be something of the kind?”
“It might,” replied the captain.
“We are not far from the coast of China, are we?” asked the semi-nautical passenger.
“Not very far.”
Seeing that the captain was not disposed to be communicative, the semi-nautical passenger retired to persecute and terrify some of the ladies with his surmises. Meanwhile the well was sounded and a slight increase of water ascertained, but nothing worth speaking of, and the pumps were set to work.
The anxiety of the passengers was soon allayed, everything going on as smoothly as before. The evening merged into night. The moon rose slowly and spread a path of rippling silver from the ship to the horizon. The various groups began to un-crystallise. Sleepy ones went below and melted away somehow. Sleepless ones went to their great panacea, smoke. Lights were put out everywhere save where the duties of the ship required them to burn continually. At last the latest of the sleepless turned in, and none were wakeful through the iron palace except the poor youth who mentally measured the distance from home, and the officers and men on duty. Among the latter was Edgar Berrington, who, standing at his accustomed post down in his own iron depths, pondered the events of the evening while he watched the motions of the great crank and listened to the grinding of the screw.
Chapter Nine.Treats of a Leak and consequent Difficulties.It turned out, on investigation, that, whatever the object by which the vessel had been touched, some degree of injury had been done to her iron-plating, for the pumps were found to be insufficient to prevent the rising of water in the hold. This was a serious matter, because although the rise was very slow, it was steady, and if not checked would sooner or later sink the ship. Everything that could be done was attempted in order to discover and stop the leak, but without success.Fortunately it happened that theWarriorhad among her other goods a quantity of diving apparatus on board, consigned to a firm in Hong-Kong that had lost valuable property in a wreck, and meant to attempt the recovery of it by means of divers. The men had gone out by a previous vessel, but their dresses, having been accidentally delayed, had been sent after them in theWarrior. Bethinking himself of these dresses, the captain conceived that he was justified, in the circumstances, in making temporary use of them; but he was disappointed to find, on inquiry, that not a man of his ordinary crew had ever seen a diving-dress put on, or its attendant air-pumps worked. In these circumstances he sent for the chief engineer.Edgar Berrington was busy about some trifling repairs to the machinery when the message reached him. The place being very hot, he was clad only in shirt and trousers, with a belt round his waist—a by no means unbecoming costume for a well-made figure! His shirt-sleeves were rolled up to the shoulders, displaying a pair of very muscular and elegantly moulded arms—such as Hercules might have been pleased with, and Apollo would not have disdained. His hands were black and oily, and his face was similarly affected.Expecting to meet the captain at the entrance to his domains, Edgar merely rolled down his sleeves, and seized a bundle of waste with which he hastily wiped his hands and face, thereby drawing on the latter, which had previously been spotty, a series of varied streaks and blotches that might have raised the envy of a Querikoboo savage. But the captain was not where he expected to find him, and on looking aft he saw him on the quarter-deck in converse with one of the passengers. Edgar would rather not have appeared in public in such guise, but being in haste to return to the work from which he had been called, he pulled on a light linen jacket and forage-cap, and walked quickly aft. To his horror he saw Aileen seated on a basket-work easy-chair close to the captain. It was too late, however, to retreat, for the latter had already observed him. Fortunately Aileen was deeply engaged with a book. Edgar quickly advanced and took such a position that his back was turned to her.“Excuse my appearance, sir,” he said in a low voice, touching his cap to the captain; “I am in the midst of a job that requires to be—”“No matter,” interrupted the captain, with a laugh, “you look very well in your war-paint. We’ll excuse you.”Attracted by the laugh, Aileen looked up at the tall form in front of her.“What averyhandsome figure!” she whispered to her bosom-friend, who sat beside her reading.The bosom-friend put her book in front of her mouth and whispered—“Yes,very. I wish he would turn round and show his face.”But her wish was not granted, for the captain walked slowly forward in conversation with the “veryhandsome figure,” which obstinately,—we might almost say carefully,—kept its back turned towards them.Great was the satisfaction of the captain when he found not only that one of the subordinate engineers understood a good deal about diving, but that the chief himself was a diver! It was accordingly arranged that a descent should be made without delay. The dresses were got up and unpacked, and one was found suitable for a large man.Soon the air-pumps were set up and rigged on deck. One of the sub-engineers was set to work them, with one of the crew, while another sub and an officer, having been previously instructed by our hero, were detailed to the important duty of holding the life-line and air-pipe. Thereafter the engines were stopped, and the dead-calm that followed,—that feeling of unnatural quietude to which we have referred elsewhere,—did more perhaps to arouse all the sleepers, readers, and dreamers on board, than if a cannon had been fired. Of course the descent of a diver over the side was a point of great interest to the passengers, coupled as it was with some anxiety as to the leak, of the existence of which all were fully aware, though only a select few had been informed of its serious nature—if not checked. They crowded round the apparatus therefore, and regarded its arrangement with the deepest interest.When all was ready Edgar issued from the deck-cabin, in which he meant to dress, to take a final look at the air-pumps. In the flutter of excitement he had for one moment, and for the first time since the beginning of the voyage, totally forgotten the existence of Aileen. Now, she and Lintie, the Scottish maiden who sang so well, chanced to be looking with much interest at the helmet which lay on the deck, when his eye fell on them. At once he turned on his heel and retreated towards his cabin.“That’s the man who is to go down, I believe,” observed one of the passengers, pointing to him.Lintie looked up and saw his back.“Oh!” she whispered to Aileen, “it is theveryhandsome man!”“Is it?” replied Aileen, with indifference, for she was engrossed with the helmet just then.Greatly perplexed as to how he should escape observation, poor Edgar began to dress—or, rather, to be dressed by his assistants,—delaying the operation as long as possible; but delay did not seem to increase his inventive powers, and could not prevent the completion of the process.The guernsey, drawers, and outside stockings were drawn on, and Edgar’s brain worked the while like the great crank of his own engine; but no feasible plan of escape was evolved. Then the “crinoline” was drawn on, but it added no feminine sharpness to his wits, though it seriously modified and damaged the shape of his person. The crinoline, as we have said elsewhere, is seldom used except at great depths, where the pressure of water is excessive. It was put on Edgar at this time partly because it formed a portion of the dress, and partly because, his mind being preoccupied, he did not observe with sufficient care what his attendants were about.After this came the shoulder-pad, and then the thick dress itself was drawn on, and the attendants hitched it up with difficulty over his spreading shoulders, but they could not hitch up an idea along with it. The forcing of his hands through the tight india-rubber wrists of the sleeves was done with tremendous power, but it was nothing compared with the energy he put forth to force himself through his mental difficulty—yet all in vain! The outside stockings and the canvas “overalls” followed, and he finally put on the red night-cap, which seemed to extinguish all capacity for thought.“You seem to be a little nervous, sir,” remarked one of the attendants, as he affixed the back and chest weights, while the other put on his ponderous boots.“Am I,—eh!” said Edgar, with a grim smile; then he added, as a sudden idea flashed on him; “go fetch me the dirtiest bundle of waste you can find below, and give it a good scrape on the blackest part of the boiler as you pass.”“Sir!” exclaimed the attendant.“Go; do what I bid you.” said Edgar, in a tone that did not brook delay.The attendant vanished and speedily returned with the desired piece of waste.Edgar at once rubbed it over his face and became so piebald and hideous that both the attendants laughed.Not heeding them, and only half sure of the completeness of the disguise, Edgar issued boldly from his cabin, and walked with heavy tread towards the place where he had to sit down to have the helmet screwed on.A loud roar of laughter greeted him.“Why, you’ve been kissing the funnel,” exclaimed one of the mates.“That’ll do me no harm,” growled Edgar, stooping to catch hold of the air-tube, and making an excuse for sidling and backing towards his seat.“Oh! What a fright! Andsucha figure!” exclaimed Lintie; “come round, let us try to get a nearer view of him.”She dragged the laughing Aileen with her, for she was an impulsive little woman; but at whatever opening in the crowd she and her friend presented themselves, they were sure to find the diver’s ridiculously broad and now inelegant back turned towards them.“Plague on him!” she exclaimed, for she was an impatient little woman, just then, “I don’t believe he’s got a front at all! Come round again—quick.”“Why, what are you turning about like that for?” exclaimed one of the exasperated attendants, who stood ready with the helmet.“His head’s turned wi’ fear, an’ he’s a-follerin’ of it,” growled the boatswain.“Why don’t you sit down?” said the attendant.“Are you ready?” asked Edgar, in a low gruff voice.“Of course I am—don’t you see me?”Another happy idea came into Edgar’s head at that moment. He pulled his red night-cap well down over his eyes, and sat down with a crash, while another hearty laugh greeted his supposed eccentricity.“Hallo, I say, you’re not going to be hanged—no need to draw it down like that,” said the first officer.“Drowning comes much to the same thing; let’s do it decently—according to rule,” retorted Edgar, with a grin that displayed a brilliant set of teeth.“H’m! We shan’t see himnow,” whispered Lintie, in disappointment, forcing her way once more to the front.This time there was no reply from Aileen, for a strange shock passed through her as she observed the momentary smile—and no wonder, for many a time had that same mouth smiled upon her with winning tenderness.Of course she did not for a moment suspect the truth, but she thought it strange, nevertheless, that the diver’s mouth should have such a strong resemblance to—she knew not precisely what! Afterwards she confided to Lintie that it had struck her as bearing a faint—very faint—resemblance to the mouth of a friend.“Of a very particular friend?” inquired Lintie, who was sharp-witted.Aileen blushed and hid her face on the neck of her friend, and suddenly poured out her soul, which the other drank up with avidity.That same night, lying in her berth, which was a top one, and looking languidly over the side at her friend, who lay in the berth below looking sympathetically up, she revealed her hopes and fears and sentiments, to the edification, (it is to be hoped) of a mean-spirited passenger in the saloon, who stood on the other side of the very thin partition, and tried to overhear. If he succeeded it must have been a new sensation to him to listen to the gentle streams of hope and love that flowed through to him—for Aileen’s thoughts were gems, as pure and beautiful as the casket which contained them. We are not quite sure, but we more than half suspect that if his presence there had been discovered, and himself had been within easy reach, the casket’s palm would have evoked something resembling a pistol-shot from his dirty cheek!But to return to our diver. The moment his helmet was on he breathed freely, recovered his equanimity, and went down the rope-ladder that hung over the side, with an air of easy decision that checked the criticisms of the men and aroused the admiration—not to mention the alarm—of the women.“The puir felly’ll be droon’d,” pitifully observed a fore-cabin passenger from Edinburgh, as she gazed at the mass of air-bubbles that arose when Edgar’s iron head had disappeared.“Nothink of the sort,” responded a fore-cabin passenger from London, who had taken an immense liking to the fore-cabin passenger from Edinburgh, in virtue of their total mental, moral, and physical dissimilarity; “divers are never drownded.”We need scarcely observe to the intelligent reader that both females were wrong—as such females, in regard to such matters, usually are. Edgar wasnot“droon’d,” and diversaresometimes “drownded.”So far from being drowned, he was remarkably successful in discovering the leak on his first descent.It was caused by one of the iron-plates near the keel having been badly torn by a coral rock.Thoroughly to repair this was a difficulty. Our diver did indeed stuff it with oakum in a way that at once diminished the influx of water; but this was merely a makeshift. It now became a question whether it were possible to effect the necessary repairs while at sea. Our young engineer removed the difficulty. He undertook to rivet an iron-plate over the hole—at least to make the attempt.In order to effect this, a rope-ladder was constructed long enough to pass entirely under the ship’s bottom, to which it was tightly pressed by means of tackle at both ends. The rounds of this ladder were made of wood, and all along its course were fastened rough balls or blocks of wood about four inches in diameter, which prevented it coming too close to the ship’s bottom. Thus there was secured space for the diver to place his feet on the rounds. This ladder having been affixed, so as to pass close to the injured plate, a boat was lowered, and from this boat descended a small ladder, hung in such a way that the diver, when a few feet under water, could easily step from it to the fixed rope-ladder. In addition to this, a small plank suspended to a rope, somewhat after the fashion of a familiar style of bed-room bookshelf, was taken down by the diver and hung to the rope-ladder by a hook, so that he could sit on it while at work, and move it about at pleasure.All having been prepared, our engineer descended with the necessary tools, and, to make a long story short, riveted a new plate over the old one in such a way as effectually to close the leak, so that thereafter it gave no further trouble or anxiety.But for this the vessel would certainly have been lost, unless they had succeeded in beaching her before the final catastrophe, on some part of the neighbouring coast; in which case they would have run the chance of being taken by the pirates who at that time infested the China seas.Delivered from this threatened danger, the good ship sped merrily on her course; most of the crystallised groups grew closer together—in some instances, however, they burst asunder! Musical tendencies also developed, though in some cases the sublime gave place to the ridiculous, and music actually, once or twice, became a nuisance. As the end of the voyage drew near, the hearty captain grew heartier, the bosom-friends drew closer; the shy passengers opened up; the congenial passengers began to grieve over the thought of parting; charades were acted; concerts were given: the mean-spirited passenger became a little less vile; the fore-cabin passenger from Edinburgh observed to her friend that the “goin’s on a’boord were wonderfu’;” to which the fore-cabin passenger from London replied that “they certainly was;” flying-fish and porpoises, and sharks and albatrosses, and tropical heat, ceased to furnish topics of interest, and men and women were thrown back on their mental resources, which were, among other things, largely wid pleasantly—sometimes even hotly!—exercised on religious discussion. In short the little community, thus temporarily thrown together, became an epitome of human life. As calm and storm alternated outside the iron palace, so, inside, there was mingled joy and sorrow. Friendships were formed and cemented. Love and folly, and hate and pride, and all the passions, were represented—ay, and Death was also there.In the silent night, when nothing was heard save that ceaseless music of the screw, the destroying angel came—so silently that only a few were aware of his dread presence—and took away the youth whose sole occupation seemed to have been the watching of the ever-increasing distance from that home which he was destined never again to see. It was inexpressibly sad to those left behind when his coffin was committed to the deep amid the solemn silence that once again ensued on the stoppage of the engines, while the low voice of a pastor prayed for those who wept his departure; but it was not sad for him who had been taken—he had reached the “better home,” and, sitting by the side of Jesus, could doubtless afford to think, at last without longing, of the old home beyond the sea.
It turned out, on investigation, that, whatever the object by which the vessel had been touched, some degree of injury had been done to her iron-plating, for the pumps were found to be insufficient to prevent the rising of water in the hold. This was a serious matter, because although the rise was very slow, it was steady, and if not checked would sooner or later sink the ship. Everything that could be done was attempted in order to discover and stop the leak, but without success.
Fortunately it happened that theWarriorhad among her other goods a quantity of diving apparatus on board, consigned to a firm in Hong-Kong that had lost valuable property in a wreck, and meant to attempt the recovery of it by means of divers. The men had gone out by a previous vessel, but their dresses, having been accidentally delayed, had been sent after them in theWarrior. Bethinking himself of these dresses, the captain conceived that he was justified, in the circumstances, in making temporary use of them; but he was disappointed to find, on inquiry, that not a man of his ordinary crew had ever seen a diving-dress put on, or its attendant air-pumps worked. In these circumstances he sent for the chief engineer.
Edgar Berrington was busy about some trifling repairs to the machinery when the message reached him. The place being very hot, he was clad only in shirt and trousers, with a belt round his waist—a by no means unbecoming costume for a well-made figure! His shirt-sleeves were rolled up to the shoulders, displaying a pair of very muscular and elegantly moulded arms—such as Hercules might have been pleased with, and Apollo would not have disdained. His hands were black and oily, and his face was similarly affected.
Expecting to meet the captain at the entrance to his domains, Edgar merely rolled down his sleeves, and seized a bundle of waste with which he hastily wiped his hands and face, thereby drawing on the latter, which had previously been spotty, a series of varied streaks and blotches that might have raised the envy of a Querikoboo savage. But the captain was not where he expected to find him, and on looking aft he saw him on the quarter-deck in converse with one of the passengers. Edgar would rather not have appeared in public in such guise, but being in haste to return to the work from which he had been called, he pulled on a light linen jacket and forage-cap, and walked quickly aft. To his horror he saw Aileen seated on a basket-work easy-chair close to the captain. It was too late, however, to retreat, for the latter had already observed him. Fortunately Aileen was deeply engaged with a book. Edgar quickly advanced and took such a position that his back was turned to her.
“Excuse my appearance, sir,” he said in a low voice, touching his cap to the captain; “I am in the midst of a job that requires to be—”
“No matter,” interrupted the captain, with a laugh, “you look very well in your war-paint. We’ll excuse you.”
Attracted by the laugh, Aileen looked up at the tall form in front of her.
“What averyhandsome figure!” she whispered to her bosom-friend, who sat beside her reading.
The bosom-friend put her book in front of her mouth and whispered—
“Yes,very. I wish he would turn round and show his face.”
But her wish was not granted, for the captain walked slowly forward in conversation with the “veryhandsome figure,” which obstinately,—we might almost say carefully,—kept its back turned towards them.
Great was the satisfaction of the captain when he found not only that one of the subordinate engineers understood a good deal about diving, but that the chief himself was a diver! It was accordingly arranged that a descent should be made without delay. The dresses were got up and unpacked, and one was found suitable for a large man.
Soon the air-pumps were set up and rigged on deck. One of the sub-engineers was set to work them, with one of the crew, while another sub and an officer, having been previously instructed by our hero, were detailed to the important duty of holding the life-line and air-pipe. Thereafter the engines were stopped, and the dead-calm that followed,—that feeling of unnatural quietude to which we have referred elsewhere,—did more perhaps to arouse all the sleepers, readers, and dreamers on board, than if a cannon had been fired. Of course the descent of a diver over the side was a point of great interest to the passengers, coupled as it was with some anxiety as to the leak, of the existence of which all were fully aware, though only a select few had been informed of its serious nature—if not checked. They crowded round the apparatus therefore, and regarded its arrangement with the deepest interest.
When all was ready Edgar issued from the deck-cabin, in which he meant to dress, to take a final look at the air-pumps. In the flutter of excitement he had for one moment, and for the first time since the beginning of the voyage, totally forgotten the existence of Aileen. Now, she and Lintie, the Scottish maiden who sang so well, chanced to be looking with much interest at the helmet which lay on the deck, when his eye fell on them. At once he turned on his heel and retreated towards his cabin.
“That’s the man who is to go down, I believe,” observed one of the passengers, pointing to him.
Lintie looked up and saw his back.
“Oh!” she whispered to Aileen, “it is theveryhandsome man!”
“Is it?” replied Aileen, with indifference, for she was engrossed with the helmet just then.
Greatly perplexed as to how he should escape observation, poor Edgar began to dress—or, rather, to be dressed by his assistants,—delaying the operation as long as possible; but delay did not seem to increase his inventive powers, and could not prevent the completion of the process.
The guernsey, drawers, and outside stockings were drawn on, and Edgar’s brain worked the while like the great crank of his own engine; but no feasible plan of escape was evolved. Then the “crinoline” was drawn on, but it added no feminine sharpness to his wits, though it seriously modified and damaged the shape of his person. The crinoline, as we have said elsewhere, is seldom used except at great depths, where the pressure of water is excessive. It was put on Edgar at this time partly because it formed a portion of the dress, and partly because, his mind being preoccupied, he did not observe with sufficient care what his attendants were about.
After this came the shoulder-pad, and then the thick dress itself was drawn on, and the attendants hitched it up with difficulty over his spreading shoulders, but they could not hitch up an idea along with it. The forcing of his hands through the tight india-rubber wrists of the sleeves was done with tremendous power, but it was nothing compared with the energy he put forth to force himself through his mental difficulty—yet all in vain! The outside stockings and the canvas “overalls” followed, and he finally put on the red night-cap, which seemed to extinguish all capacity for thought.
“You seem to be a little nervous, sir,” remarked one of the attendants, as he affixed the back and chest weights, while the other put on his ponderous boots.
“Am I,—eh!” said Edgar, with a grim smile; then he added, as a sudden idea flashed on him; “go fetch me the dirtiest bundle of waste you can find below, and give it a good scrape on the blackest part of the boiler as you pass.”
“Sir!” exclaimed the attendant.
“Go; do what I bid you.” said Edgar, in a tone that did not brook delay.
The attendant vanished and speedily returned with the desired piece of waste.
Edgar at once rubbed it over his face and became so piebald and hideous that both the attendants laughed.
Not heeding them, and only half sure of the completeness of the disguise, Edgar issued boldly from his cabin, and walked with heavy tread towards the place where he had to sit down to have the helmet screwed on.
A loud roar of laughter greeted him.
“Why, you’ve been kissing the funnel,” exclaimed one of the mates.
“That’ll do me no harm,” growled Edgar, stooping to catch hold of the air-tube, and making an excuse for sidling and backing towards his seat.
“Oh! What a fright! Andsucha figure!” exclaimed Lintie; “come round, let us try to get a nearer view of him.”
She dragged the laughing Aileen with her, for she was an impulsive little woman; but at whatever opening in the crowd she and her friend presented themselves, they were sure to find the diver’s ridiculously broad and now inelegant back turned towards them.
“Plague on him!” she exclaimed, for she was an impatient little woman, just then, “I don’t believe he’s got a front at all! Come round again—quick.”
“Why, what are you turning about like that for?” exclaimed one of the exasperated attendants, who stood ready with the helmet.
“His head’s turned wi’ fear, an’ he’s a-follerin’ of it,” growled the boatswain.
“Why don’t you sit down?” said the attendant.
“Are you ready?” asked Edgar, in a low gruff voice.
“Of course I am—don’t you see me?”
Another happy idea came into Edgar’s head at that moment. He pulled his red night-cap well down over his eyes, and sat down with a crash, while another hearty laugh greeted his supposed eccentricity.
“Hallo, I say, you’re not going to be hanged—no need to draw it down like that,” said the first officer.
“Drowning comes much to the same thing; let’s do it decently—according to rule,” retorted Edgar, with a grin that displayed a brilliant set of teeth.
“H’m! We shan’t see himnow,” whispered Lintie, in disappointment, forcing her way once more to the front.
This time there was no reply from Aileen, for a strange shock passed through her as she observed the momentary smile—and no wonder, for many a time had that same mouth smiled upon her with winning tenderness.
Of course she did not for a moment suspect the truth, but she thought it strange, nevertheless, that the diver’s mouth should have such a strong resemblance to—she knew not precisely what! Afterwards she confided to Lintie that it had struck her as bearing a faint—very faint—resemblance to the mouth of a friend.
“Of a very particular friend?” inquired Lintie, who was sharp-witted.
Aileen blushed and hid her face on the neck of her friend, and suddenly poured out her soul, which the other drank up with avidity.
That same night, lying in her berth, which was a top one, and looking languidly over the side at her friend, who lay in the berth below looking sympathetically up, she revealed her hopes and fears and sentiments, to the edification, (it is to be hoped) of a mean-spirited passenger in the saloon, who stood on the other side of the very thin partition, and tried to overhear. If he succeeded it must have been a new sensation to him to listen to the gentle streams of hope and love that flowed through to him—for Aileen’s thoughts were gems, as pure and beautiful as the casket which contained them. We are not quite sure, but we more than half suspect that if his presence there had been discovered, and himself had been within easy reach, the casket’s palm would have evoked something resembling a pistol-shot from his dirty cheek!
But to return to our diver. The moment his helmet was on he breathed freely, recovered his equanimity, and went down the rope-ladder that hung over the side, with an air of easy decision that checked the criticisms of the men and aroused the admiration—not to mention the alarm—of the women.
“The puir felly’ll be droon’d,” pitifully observed a fore-cabin passenger from Edinburgh, as she gazed at the mass of air-bubbles that arose when Edgar’s iron head had disappeared.
“Nothink of the sort,” responded a fore-cabin passenger from London, who had taken an immense liking to the fore-cabin passenger from Edinburgh, in virtue of their total mental, moral, and physical dissimilarity; “divers are never drownded.”
We need scarcely observe to the intelligent reader that both females were wrong—as such females, in regard to such matters, usually are. Edgar wasnot“droon’d,” and diversaresometimes “drownded.”
So far from being drowned, he was remarkably successful in discovering the leak on his first descent.
It was caused by one of the iron-plates near the keel having been badly torn by a coral rock.
Thoroughly to repair this was a difficulty. Our diver did indeed stuff it with oakum in a way that at once diminished the influx of water; but this was merely a makeshift. It now became a question whether it were possible to effect the necessary repairs while at sea. Our young engineer removed the difficulty. He undertook to rivet an iron-plate over the hole—at least to make the attempt.
In order to effect this, a rope-ladder was constructed long enough to pass entirely under the ship’s bottom, to which it was tightly pressed by means of tackle at both ends. The rounds of this ladder were made of wood, and all along its course were fastened rough balls or blocks of wood about four inches in diameter, which prevented it coming too close to the ship’s bottom. Thus there was secured space for the diver to place his feet on the rounds. This ladder having been affixed, so as to pass close to the injured plate, a boat was lowered, and from this boat descended a small ladder, hung in such a way that the diver, when a few feet under water, could easily step from it to the fixed rope-ladder. In addition to this, a small plank suspended to a rope, somewhat after the fashion of a familiar style of bed-room bookshelf, was taken down by the diver and hung to the rope-ladder by a hook, so that he could sit on it while at work, and move it about at pleasure.
All having been prepared, our engineer descended with the necessary tools, and, to make a long story short, riveted a new plate over the old one in such a way as effectually to close the leak, so that thereafter it gave no further trouble or anxiety.
But for this the vessel would certainly have been lost, unless they had succeeded in beaching her before the final catastrophe, on some part of the neighbouring coast; in which case they would have run the chance of being taken by the pirates who at that time infested the China seas.
Delivered from this threatened danger, the good ship sped merrily on her course; most of the crystallised groups grew closer together—in some instances, however, they burst asunder! Musical tendencies also developed, though in some cases the sublime gave place to the ridiculous, and music actually, once or twice, became a nuisance. As the end of the voyage drew near, the hearty captain grew heartier, the bosom-friends drew closer; the shy passengers opened up; the congenial passengers began to grieve over the thought of parting; charades were acted; concerts were given: the mean-spirited passenger became a little less vile; the fore-cabin passenger from Edinburgh observed to her friend that the “goin’s on a’boord were wonderfu’;” to which the fore-cabin passenger from London replied that “they certainly was;” flying-fish and porpoises, and sharks and albatrosses, and tropical heat, ceased to furnish topics of interest, and men and women were thrown back on their mental resources, which were, among other things, largely wid pleasantly—sometimes even hotly!—exercised on religious discussion. In short the little community, thus temporarily thrown together, became an epitome of human life. As calm and storm alternated outside the iron palace, so, inside, there was mingled joy and sorrow. Friendships were formed and cemented. Love and folly, and hate and pride, and all the passions, were represented—ay, and Death was also there.
In the silent night, when nothing was heard save that ceaseless music of the screw, the destroying angel came—so silently that only a few were aware of his dread presence—and took away the youth whose sole occupation seemed to have been the watching of the ever-increasing distance from that home which he was destined never again to see. It was inexpressibly sad to those left behind when his coffin was committed to the deep amid the solemn silence that once again ensued on the stoppage of the engines, while the low voice of a pastor prayed for those who wept his departure; but it was not sad for him who had been taken—he had reached the “better home,” and, sitting by the side of Jesus, could doubtless afford to think, at last without longing, of the old home beyond the sea.
Chapter Ten.Anxieties; Disasters; Hopes.Standing in his accustomed place on the iron floor of the iron chamber, Edgar Berrington watched the grinding of the great crank, and pondered.He had now been many weeks at sea, and had not once spoken a word to Aileen—had not even seen her more than half-a-dozen times in the far vista of the quarter-deck. Each Sabbath-day, indeed, dressed like his former self, he had worshipped with her in the same saloon, but on these occasions he had kept carefully in the background, had crept quietly down after the others had assembled, had kept in the shadow of the door, and had left before the worshippers had time to rise.An event, however, was now pending, which was destined to remove his present difficulties in a very unexpected manner, and to saddle on the shoulders of Charles Hazlit, Esquire, difficulties which he had never in all his previous business calculations taken into account.During most part of the voyage out to China Mr Hazlit’s visage had presented a sea-green aspect, edged with yellow. The great Demon of the sea had seized upon and held him with unwonted avidity and perseverance. It appeared to regard him as fair game—as one whose life had been largely devoted to ploughing up its peculiar domain—or rather, inducing others to plough there—and who was therefore worthy of special attention. At all events, the wealthy merchant did not appear above-board until the lapse of two weeks after leaving his native land. At the end of that period something like the ghost of him crawled on deck one rather fine day, but a demoniac squall rudely sent him below, where he remained until those charming regions of the Equatorial calms were entered. Here a bad likeness—a sort of spoiled photograph—of him again made its appearance, and lay down helplessly on a mattress, or smiled with pathetic sarcasm when food was offered. But soon the calm regions were passed; the Cape of Storms was doubled, and the fierce “south-easters” of the Indian seas were encountered, during which period Mr Hazlit passed away, as one of the things thathadbeen, from the memory of all on board, with the exception of Aileen, the captain, the bed-room steward, and a Christian pastor, who, with his amiable wife, had done much during the voyage for their fellow-passengers.At last, when the shores of China were approached, and people began to talk earnestly about the end of the voyage, Mr Hazlit’s shade once more made its appearance, with a spot of dark red on each cheek and on the point of his nose. These spots were hopefully regarded as signs of returning health. They did not appear too soon, for the shade would infallibly have vanished altogether if it had been subjected to further attenuation.“Oh, papa dear, you look somuchbetter to-day!” said Aileen, arranging his shawls as he lay on deck—“quite rosy.”If she had said port-winy it would have been more in accordance with truth, but Aileen was rather apt to diverge from truth, unintentionally, in speaking of her father.“I am thankful, dear,” replied the shade in a faint voice, and with a fainter smile. “The captain says we shall be in port in a few days, and then we shall be all right, and—”“Ha! Shall you?” exclaimed the Demon of the sea, giving the ship a little lurch to starboard, which cut short the merchant’s remarks abruptly; “you think so, do you? Ho! We shall see!”Following up this inaudible speech with one of those audible howls for which demons are so justly celebrated, he went off in a gust of wind, and summoned to his aid one of those simooms, or monsoons, or typhoons which are in the habit of ravaging the southern seas.These spirits, quickly obeying the summons, sent not only Mr Hazlit but many of the other passengers to their berths, blew into ribbons the few sails that chanced to be hoisted, boiled up the sea as if in a huge caldron, caused the blackened sky to mingle with the world of waters, rent the firmament with gleaming fire and crashing thunder, and hissed or yelled everywhere in the spirit of wildest revelry.TheWarriorwas a splendid steamer, and her commander an able seaman, but neither splendour of material nor power of mind can avert what is decreed.The storm was prolonged, and raged with unwonted fury, the captain did his best, the good ship behaved nobly, and things went well until the night of the third day. It was at that time so very dark that nothing could be seen farther off than a few yards beyond the bulwarks, where the white-crested waves loomed high in air in a sort of ghostly fashion as if they meant to fall on the deck unawares and sink the ship.The passengers had by degrees got used to the mad plunging and rolling of their iron home, and even the timid among them began to feel hopeful that after all the gale would be weathered, and the harbour gained.What the captain thought no one could tell. He remained on the bridge night and day, clad from head to foot in oil-skin garments, facing the furious blast as if it were his native air, watching every motion of his vessel, and gazing intently into the world of ebony ahead as if trying to read his fate there.The darkness around was almost palpable. Sometimes it seemed as if the vessel were rushing against a mighty rock, that towered high above the masts, but this was only optical illusion, or, perhaps, a denser storm-cloud than usual passing by, for the steamer continued to plough her onward way unchecked, save, now and then, by the bursting on her bows of a monster billow, which caused her to quiver from stem to stern, and swept the decks with green seas fore and aft. One such sea had carried away part of the bulwarks, and swept overboard all the loose material on the decks. Presently, there was a slight diminution in the force of the seas. The captain noted this, and gave orders to get the lead ready to heave.Deep in the iron chambers below, Edgar Berrington stood—not in his wonted dreamy mood, beside the great crank, but close to the steering-wheel of the engine,—alert, steady, with his hand on the wheel, his eye on the index.Suddenly the order came, “Half-speed,”—then abruptly followed, “Stop.”These orders were obeyed instantly.The lead was hove—the result, “no bottom at thirty fathoms.”Again Edgar was signalled—“Half-speed,” then—as the captain looked into the darkness ahead, and saw, or thought he saw, it deepen horribly—came the sharp order, “Astern, full-speed!”Full well did Edgar know that this implied imminent danger. Quick as lightning he reversed the engines.Next moment there was an appalling crash that overturned everything in the vessel. Our hero was himself wrenched from his position, and hurled against the bulkhead of the boiler-room; the masts went over the sides as if they had been pipe-stems, and the wire-ropes snapt like pack-thread. A moment of appalling silence followed, as if the very elements had suspended their strife, then there came shriek and cry from fore and aft as the passengers rushed frantically about, while above all yelled the escaping steam when Edgar opened the safety-valves.The spot where they had struck was partially protected by cliffs, that rose like a wall in front. These cliffs turned off the direct force of the gale, but the general turmoil of the sea raised a surf around them which rendered the prospect of effecting a landing a very poor one, even if the vessel should hold together for any length of time. They had not struck on the shore of the mainland, but on a solitary islet or rock, not far from the coast, which rose abruptly out of deep water. Hence the silence of “the lead” as to its presence.It were vain to attempt a description of the confusion that followed. The few cool and collected men in the ship were powerless at first, but gradually they succeeded in restoring some degree of order. Then the captain explained that being hard and fast on the rocks they could not sink, and that the vessel being strong was likely to hold together, perhaps, for several hours.“We’renothard and fast, captain,” said the semi-nautical passenger in an undertone, as he stood by the after-hatch, where most of the cabin passengers were assembled.He referred to a swinging motion of the wreck, which, however, was so very slight as to be almost imperceptible.“I know that,” replied the captain, also in an undertone, but somewhat sternly, “wemayslip back into deep water, but we’re hard and fastjust now, and I shall do my best to keep her so. Don’t you go, sir, and raise needless alarm in the minds of the passengers. See,” he added aloud, pointing towards the east, “day is already breaking; we shall soon have light enough to commence landing. Go below, ladies, and get your bonnet-boxes packed.”The captain’s mind was far enough from jesting at that moment, but he knew that a quiet joke, possessing a modicum of truth in it, would do more to calm the fears of the timid than solemn advice or reasoning. He was right. Many went to their cabins to look after their most precious treasures, while the officers and men commenced active preparations for escaping to the islet, whose towering cliffs now began to loom heavily through the driving mist and foam.From the first it was evident that only one mode of escape offered, namely, by means of a rope to the shore, and a running tackle. This material was easily procured and arranged, but the connecting of the rope with the shore was another question. As daylight increased, the island was recognised as a mere uninhabited rock, from which, therefore, no assistance could be expected, and the terrible turmoil of waters that leaped and seethed between the wreck and the cliffs, seemed to all on board, including the captain himself, to be impassable.At last it became necessary to make an effort, for it was soon discovered that the vessel hung on the edge of a ledge, outside of which the water deepened suddenly to twenty fathoms, and a slip back into that would have been equivalent to certain and immediate death to all on board.“My lads,” said the captain to the crew, most of whom were assembled with the passengers near the port bow, where the preparations for escaping were going on, “we must have a man to go ashore with that line. I cannot swim myself, else I would not ask for a volunteer. Come; who has got the heart to do a gallant deed, and save these women and children?”He turned as he spoke, and glanced at the female passengers and children, who crowded under the lee of the cook-house, wet, dishevelled, and terrified, Aileen and her musical friend being among them.There was no response at first. The men turned with doubtful looks at the furious sea, in the midst of whose white surges black forbidding rocks seemed to rise and disappear, and the surface of which had by that time become much cumbered with portions of wreckage.“If I could only swim,” growled the boatswain, “I’d try, but I can’t float no more than a stone.”Others, who looked stout and bold enough to make the venture, seemed to think it might be better to stick to the ship until the sea should go down. Indeed one of them said as much, but the captain interrupted him, and was about to make another appeal, when there was a movement in the crowd, and one of the sub-engineers pushed towards him with the information that a volunteer was ready, and would appear immediately.“Who is it?” asked the captain.“Mr Berrington, sir; he’s getting ready.”“The chief engineer!” exclaimed the captain. “Good; if there’s a man in the ship can do it, he is the man.”Aileen, standing somewhat back in the crowd, thought she had caught a familiar sound!“Who is going to make the venture?” she inquired of a man near her.“The chief engineer, Miss, I believe.”At the moment the crowd opened and our hero came forward, clothed only in a shirt and duck trousers. His face was not streaked with professional paint onthisoccasion. It beamed with the flush and the latent fire of one who feels that he has made up his mind deliberately to face death.“Oh! It’s the man with the handsome figure,” gasped Lintie, with a wild look of surprise.Aileen did not now require to be told who it was. Unlike heroines, she neither screamed nor fainted, but through the wonder which shone in her eyes she shot forth another look,—one of proud confidence,—which Edgar caught in passing, and it rendered his power and purpose irresistible. The stern work before him, however, was not compatible with soft emotions. Seizing the end of the light line which was ready, he tied it firmly round his waist and leaped into the raging sea, while an enthusiastic cheer burst from the crew.At first it seemed as if the youth had been endowed with superhuman powers, so vigorously and with such ease did he push through the surf and spurn aside the pieces of wreck that came in his way; but as his distance from the vessel increased, and the surging foam bore him in among the rocks, he received several blows from a piece of the floating bulwarks. Once also he was launched with terrible violence against a rock. This checked him a little. Still, however, he swam on, apparently unhurt, while the people on board the wreck gazed after him with inexpressible eagerness. They not only thought of the imminent danger of the gallant youth, but fully realised the probability that his failure would be the sealing of their own doom.As he drew near to the rocks on shore, a mass of wreck was seen to rise on the crest of the surf close to the swimmer’s side and fall on him. An irresistible cry of despair burst from those in the ship. Some one shouted to haul on the line and pull him on board, and several seamen sprang to do so, but the captain checked them, for through his glass he could see Edgar struggling to free himself from the wreck. In a few minutes he succeeded, and the next wave hurled him on the rocky shore, to which he clung until the retreating water had lost its power. Then he rose, and struggling upwards, gained a ledge of rock where he was safe from the violence of the waves.It need scarcely be said that his success was hailed with three tremendous cheers, and not a few deep and fervent exclamations of “Thank God” from some who regarded the young engineer’s safety as a foretaste of their own. Some there were, however, who knew that the work which yet remained to be done was fraught with danger as well as difficulty. This work was commenced without delay.By means of the light line which he had carried ashore, Edgar hauled the two ends of a stouter line or small rope from the wreck. These two ends he quickly spliced together, thus making the rope an endless one, or, as seamen have it, an endless fall. The other loop, or bight, of this endless double-rope was retained on the wreck, having been previously rove through a block or pulley which was attached to the broken fore-mast about ten feet above the deck—in accordance with our “rocket apparatus” directions. In fact, the whole contrivance, got up so hastily at this time, was just an extemporised rocket apparatus without the rocket—Edgar having already performed the duty of that projectile, which is to effect communication between wreck and shore.By means of the endless fall our hero now hauled a heavy rope or cable from the wreck, the end of which he fastened round a large boulder. This rope, being hauled taut, remained suspended between the wreck and the cliffs some feet above the sea. Previous to fixing it a large block had been run upon it, and to this block was suspended one of those circular cork life-preservers which one usually sees attached to the bulwarks of ships. It was made into a sort of bag by means of a piece of canvas. The endless fall was then attached to this bag so that it could travel with its block backwards and forwards on the thick cable.The first who passed from the wreck to the shore by means of this contrivance was a stout seaman with two very small children in charge. The man was sent partly to give the passengers confidence in the safety of the mode of transit, and partly that he might aid Edgar in the working of the tackle. The next who passed was the mother of the children. Then followed Aileen, and after her the sweet singer. Thus, one by one, all the females and children on board were borne in safety to land.After these the male passengers commenced to go ashore. A few of the older men were sent first. Among them was Mr Hazlit.The unfortunate merchant was so weak as to be scarcely equal to the exertion of getting over the side into the life-buoy or bag, and he was so tall that, despite the efforts he made to double himself together, there was so much of him above the machine that he had a tendency to topple over. This would have mattered nothing if he had possessed even a moderate degree of power to hold on, but his hands were as weak as those of a child. However, the case being desperate, he made the attempt, and was sent away from the wreck with many earnest cautions to “hold on tight and keep cool.”You may be sure that his progress was watched with intense anxiety by Aileen, who stood close to Edgar as he hauled in the rope carefully.“Oh! He will fall out,” she cried in an agony as the rope dipped a little, and let him just touch the roaring surf, when he was somewhat more than half way over.Edgar saw that her fears were not unlikely to be realised. He therefore gave the rope to the seaman who had first come ashore, with orders to haul steadily.Owing to its position and the dipping of the life-buoy with its burden, the cable formed a pretty steep slope from the shore. Throwing himself on the cable, Edgar slid swiftly down this incline until stopped by the buoy. The effect of course was to sink the machine deeper than ever, insomuch that poor Mr Hazlit, unable any longer to withstand the buffeting, threw up his arms with a cry of despair. Edgar caught him as he was falling over.“Here, put your arms round my neck,” he cried, struggling violently to fix himself firmly to the life-buoy.The merchant obeyed instantly, giving the youth an embrace such as he had never expected to receive at his hands! Even in that moment of danger and anxiety, Edgar could not help smiling at the gaze of unutterable wonder which Mr Hazlit cast on him through the salt water—if not tears—that filled his eyes, for he had not seen the youth when he jumped overboard.“Haul away!” shouted our hero; but the words were stifled by a sea which at the moment overwhelmed them.The man at the line, however, knew what to do. He and some of the passengers hauled steadily but swiftly on the line, and in a few seconds the buoy, with its double freight, was brought safe to land. Mr Hazlit was carried at once by his rescuer to a recess in the cliffs which was partially protected from the storm, and Edgar, after doing what he could to place him comfortably on the ground, left him to the care of his daughter.On his return to the beach he found the passengers who had been saved in a state of great alarm because of the slipping backwards of the wreck, which strained the cable so much that it had become as rigid as a bar of iron. He began, therefore, to ply the means of rescue with redoubled energy, for there were still some of the passengers and all the crew on board; but suddenly, while the buoy was being sent out for another freight, the cable snapt, the wreck slid off the shelf or ledge on which it had hung so long, and sank in deep water, leaving nothing save a momentary whirlpool in the surf to tell where the splendid ocean palace had gone down.The horror that filled the minds of those who witnessed the catastrophe cannot be described. A feeling of dreary desolation and helplessness followed the sudden cessation of violent energy and hopeful toil in which most of them had been previously engaged. This was in some degree changed, if not relieved, by the necessity which lay on all to lace the vicissitudes of their new position.That these were neither few nor light soon became apparent, for Edgar and the seaman, after an hour’s investigation, returned to their friends with the information that they had been cast on a small rocky islet, which was uninhabited, and contained not a vestige of wood or of anything that could sustain the life of man. Thus they were left without shelter or food, or the means of quitting the inhospitable spot—not, however, without hope, for one of the seamen said that he knew it to be an isle lying not very far from the mainland, and that it was almost certain to be passed ere long by ships or native boats.On further search, too, a spring of fresh water was discovered, with sufficient grass growing near it to make comfortable beds for the women and children. The grass was spread under the shelter of an overhanging cliff, and as the weather was warm, though stormy, the feelings of despair that had at first overwhelmed young and old soon began to abate. During the day the gale decreased and a hot sun came out at intervals, enabling them to dry their soaking garments.That night, taking Edgar aside, Mr Hazlit thanked him warmly for preserving his life.“But,” said he, seriously, “forgive me if I at once broach a painful subject, and point out that our positions are not changed by this disaster. Much though I love my life I love my daughter’s happiness more, and I would rather die than allow her to marry—excuse me, Mr Berrington—a penniless man. Of course,” continued the merchant, with a sad smile as he looked around him, “it would be ridiculous as well as ungrateful were I to forbid your holding ordinary converse with herhere, but I trust to your honour that nothing more thanordinaryconverse shall pass between you.”“My dear sir,” replied the youth, “you greatly mistake my spirit if you imagine that I would for one moment take advantage of the position in which I am now placed. I thank God for having permitted me to be the means of rendering aid to you and Ai— your daughter. Depend upon it I will not give you reason to regret having trusted my honour. But,” (he hesitated here) “you have referred to my position. If, in time and through God’s goodness, I succeed in improving my position; in gaining by industry a sufficiency of this world’s pelf to maintain Aileen in a condition of comfort approaching in some degree that in which she has been brought up, may I hope—may I—”Mr Hazlit took the young man’s hand and said, “You may;” but he said it sadly, and with a look that seemed to imply that he had no expectation of Edgar ever attaining to the required position.Satisfied with the shake of the hand, our hero turned abruptly away, and went off to ruminate by the sea-shore. At first he was filled with hope; then, as he thought of his being penniless and without influential friends, and of the immense amount of money that would have to be made in order to meet the wealthy merchant’s idea of comfort, he began to despair. Presently the words came to his mind—“Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass.” This revived him, and he began to run over in his mind all sorts of wild plans of making a huge fortune quickly! Again a word came to him—“Make not haste to be rich.”“But whatismaking haste?” he thought, and his conscience at once replied, “Taking illegitimate courses—venturesome speculation without means—devotion of the soul and body to business in such a way as to demoralise the one and deteriorate the other—engaging in the pursuit of wealth hastily and with eager anxieties, which imply that you doubt God’s promise to direct and prosper all works committed to Him.”“My plan, then,” thought Edgar, “is to maintain a calm and trusting mind; to be diligent in fulfillingpresentduty, whatever that may be; to look about for the direction that is promised, and take prompt advantage of any clear opportunity that offers. God helping me, I’ll try.”Strong in his resolves, but, happily, stronger in his trust, he returned to the cavern in which his companions in misfortune had already laid them down to rest, and throwing himself on a bed of grass near the entrance, quickly fell into that profound slumber which is the perquisite of those who unite a healthy mind to a sound body.
Standing in his accustomed place on the iron floor of the iron chamber, Edgar Berrington watched the grinding of the great crank, and pondered.
He had now been many weeks at sea, and had not once spoken a word to Aileen—had not even seen her more than half-a-dozen times in the far vista of the quarter-deck. Each Sabbath-day, indeed, dressed like his former self, he had worshipped with her in the same saloon, but on these occasions he had kept carefully in the background, had crept quietly down after the others had assembled, had kept in the shadow of the door, and had left before the worshippers had time to rise.
An event, however, was now pending, which was destined to remove his present difficulties in a very unexpected manner, and to saddle on the shoulders of Charles Hazlit, Esquire, difficulties which he had never in all his previous business calculations taken into account.
During most part of the voyage out to China Mr Hazlit’s visage had presented a sea-green aspect, edged with yellow. The great Demon of the sea had seized upon and held him with unwonted avidity and perseverance. It appeared to regard him as fair game—as one whose life had been largely devoted to ploughing up its peculiar domain—or rather, inducing others to plough there—and who was therefore worthy of special attention. At all events, the wealthy merchant did not appear above-board until the lapse of two weeks after leaving his native land. At the end of that period something like the ghost of him crawled on deck one rather fine day, but a demoniac squall rudely sent him below, where he remained until those charming regions of the Equatorial calms were entered. Here a bad likeness—a sort of spoiled photograph—of him again made its appearance, and lay down helplessly on a mattress, or smiled with pathetic sarcasm when food was offered. But soon the calm regions were passed; the Cape of Storms was doubled, and the fierce “south-easters” of the Indian seas were encountered, during which period Mr Hazlit passed away, as one of the things thathadbeen, from the memory of all on board, with the exception of Aileen, the captain, the bed-room steward, and a Christian pastor, who, with his amiable wife, had done much during the voyage for their fellow-passengers.
At last, when the shores of China were approached, and people began to talk earnestly about the end of the voyage, Mr Hazlit’s shade once more made its appearance, with a spot of dark red on each cheek and on the point of his nose. These spots were hopefully regarded as signs of returning health. They did not appear too soon, for the shade would infallibly have vanished altogether if it had been subjected to further attenuation.
“Oh, papa dear, you look somuchbetter to-day!” said Aileen, arranging his shawls as he lay on deck—“quite rosy.”
If she had said port-winy it would have been more in accordance with truth, but Aileen was rather apt to diverge from truth, unintentionally, in speaking of her father.
“I am thankful, dear,” replied the shade in a faint voice, and with a fainter smile. “The captain says we shall be in port in a few days, and then we shall be all right, and—”
“Ha! Shall you?” exclaimed the Demon of the sea, giving the ship a little lurch to starboard, which cut short the merchant’s remarks abruptly; “you think so, do you? Ho! We shall see!”
Following up this inaudible speech with one of those audible howls for which demons are so justly celebrated, he went off in a gust of wind, and summoned to his aid one of those simooms, or monsoons, or typhoons which are in the habit of ravaging the southern seas.
These spirits, quickly obeying the summons, sent not only Mr Hazlit but many of the other passengers to their berths, blew into ribbons the few sails that chanced to be hoisted, boiled up the sea as if in a huge caldron, caused the blackened sky to mingle with the world of waters, rent the firmament with gleaming fire and crashing thunder, and hissed or yelled everywhere in the spirit of wildest revelry.
TheWarriorwas a splendid steamer, and her commander an able seaman, but neither splendour of material nor power of mind can avert what is decreed.
The storm was prolonged, and raged with unwonted fury, the captain did his best, the good ship behaved nobly, and things went well until the night of the third day. It was at that time so very dark that nothing could be seen farther off than a few yards beyond the bulwarks, where the white-crested waves loomed high in air in a sort of ghostly fashion as if they meant to fall on the deck unawares and sink the ship.
The passengers had by degrees got used to the mad plunging and rolling of their iron home, and even the timid among them began to feel hopeful that after all the gale would be weathered, and the harbour gained.
What the captain thought no one could tell. He remained on the bridge night and day, clad from head to foot in oil-skin garments, facing the furious blast as if it were his native air, watching every motion of his vessel, and gazing intently into the world of ebony ahead as if trying to read his fate there.
The darkness around was almost palpable. Sometimes it seemed as if the vessel were rushing against a mighty rock, that towered high above the masts, but this was only optical illusion, or, perhaps, a denser storm-cloud than usual passing by, for the steamer continued to plough her onward way unchecked, save, now and then, by the bursting on her bows of a monster billow, which caused her to quiver from stem to stern, and swept the decks with green seas fore and aft. One such sea had carried away part of the bulwarks, and swept overboard all the loose material on the decks. Presently, there was a slight diminution in the force of the seas. The captain noted this, and gave orders to get the lead ready to heave.
Deep in the iron chambers below, Edgar Berrington stood—not in his wonted dreamy mood, beside the great crank, but close to the steering-wheel of the engine,—alert, steady, with his hand on the wheel, his eye on the index.
Suddenly the order came, “Half-speed,”—then abruptly followed, “Stop.”
These orders were obeyed instantly.
The lead was hove—the result, “no bottom at thirty fathoms.”
Again Edgar was signalled—“Half-speed,” then—as the captain looked into the darkness ahead, and saw, or thought he saw, it deepen horribly—came the sharp order, “Astern, full-speed!”
Full well did Edgar know that this implied imminent danger. Quick as lightning he reversed the engines.
Next moment there was an appalling crash that overturned everything in the vessel. Our hero was himself wrenched from his position, and hurled against the bulkhead of the boiler-room; the masts went over the sides as if they had been pipe-stems, and the wire-ropes snapt like pack-thread. A moment of appalling silence followed, as if the very elements had suspended their strife, then there came shriek and cry from fore and aft as the passengers rushed frantically about, while above all yelled the escaping steam when Edgar opened the safety-valves.
The spot where they had struck was partially protected by cliffs, that rose like a wall in front. These cliffs turned off the direct force of the gale, but the general turmoil of the sea raised a surf around them which rendered the prospect of effecting a landing a very poor one, even if the vessel should hold together for any length of time. They had not struck on the shore of the mainland, but on a solitary islet or rock, not far from the coast, which rose abruptly out of deep water. Hence the silence of “the lead” as to its presence.
It were vain to attempt a description of the confusion that followed. The few cool and collected men in the ship were powerless at first, but gradually they succeeded in restoring some degree of order. Then the captain explained that being hard and fast on the rocks they could not sink, and that the vessel being strong was likely to hold together, perhaps, for several hours.
“We’renothard and fast, captain,” said the semi-nautical passenger in an undertone, as he stood by the after-hatch, where most of the cabin passengers were assembled.
He referred to a swinging motion of the wreck, which, however, was so very slight as to be almost imperceptible.
“I know that,” replied the captain, also in an undertone, but somewhat sternly, “wemayslip back into deep water, but we’re hard and fastjust now, and I shall do my best to keep her so. Don’t you go, sir, and raise needless alarm in the minds of the passengers. See,” he added aloud, pointing towards the east, “day is already breaking; we shall soon have light enough to commence landing. Go below, ladies, and get your bonnet-boxes packed.”
The captain’s mind was far enough from jesting at that moment, but he knew that a quiet joke, possessing a modicum of truth in it, would do more to calm the fears of the timid than solemn advice or reasoning. He was right. Many went to their cabins to look after their most precious treasures, while the officers and men commenced active preparations for escaping to the islet, whose towering cliffs now began to loom heavily through the driving mist and foam.
From the first it was evident that only one mode of escape offered, namely, by means of a rope to the shore, and a running tackle. This material was easily procured and arranged, but the connecting of the rope with the shore was another question. As daylight increased, the island was recognised as a mere uninhabited rock, from which, therefore, no assistance could be expected, and the terrible turmoil of waters that leaped and seethed between the wreck and the cliffs, seemed to all on board, including the captain himself, to be impassable.
At last it became necessary to make an effort, for it was soon discovered that the vessel hung on the edge of a ledge, outside of which the water deepened suddenly to twenty fathoms, and a slip back into that would have been equivalent to certain and immediate death to all on board.
“My lads,” said the captain to the crew, most of whom were assembled with the passengers near the port bow, where the preparations for escaping were going on, “we must have a man to go ashore with that line. I cannot swim myself, else I would not ask for a volunteer. Come; who has got the heart to do a gallant deed, and save these women and children?”
He turned as he spoke, and glanced at the female passengers and children, who crowded under the lee of the cook-house, wet, dishevelled, and terrified, Aileen and her musical friend being among them.
There was no response at first. The men turned with doubtful looks at the furious sea, in the midst of whose white surges black forbidding rocks seemed to rise and disappear, and the surface of which had by that time become much cumbered with portions of wreckage.
“If I could only swim,” growled the boatswain, “I’d try, but I can’t float no more than a stone.”
Others, who looked stout and bold enough to make the venture, seemed to think it might be better to stick to the ship until the sea should go down. Indeed one of them said as much, but the captain interrupted him, and was about to make another appeal, when there was a movement in the crowd, and one of the sub-engineers pushed towards him with the information that a volunteer was ready, and would appear immediately.
“Who is it?” asked the captain.
“Mr Berrington, sir; he’s getting ready.”
“The chief engineer!” exclaimed the captain. “Good; if there’s a man in the ship can do it, he is the man.”
Aileen, standing somewhat back in the crowd, thought she had caught a familiar sound!
“Who is going to make the venture?” she inquired of a man near her.
“The chief engineer, Miss, I believe.”
At the moment the crowd opened and our hero came forward, clothed only in a shirt and duck trousers. His face was not streaked with professional paint onthisoccasion. It beamed with the flush and the latent fire of one who feels that he has made up his mind deliberately to face death.
“Oh! It’s the man with the handsome figure,” gasped Lintie, with a wild look of surprise.
Aileen did not now require to be told who it was. Unlike heroines, she neither screamed nor fainted, but through the wonder which shone in her eyes she shot forth another look,—one of proud confidence,—which Edgar caught in passing, and it rendered his power and purpose irresistible. The stern work before him, however, was not compatible with soft emotions. Seizing the end of the light line which was ready, he tied it firmly round his waist and leaped into the raging sea, while an enthusiastic cheer burst from the crew.
At first it seemed as if the youth had been endowed with superhuman powers, so vigorously and with such ease did he push through the surf and spurn aside the pieces of wreck that came in his way; but as his distance from the vessel increased, and the surging foam bore him in among the rocks, he received several blows from a piece of the floating bulwarks. Once also he was launched with terrible violence against a rock. This checked him a little. Still, however, he swam on, apparently unhurt, while the people on board the wreck gazed after him with inexpressible eagerness. They not only thought of the imminent danger of the gallant youth, but fully realised the probability that his failure would be the sealing of their own doom.
As he drew near to the rocks on shore, a mass of wreck was seen to rise on the crest of the surf close to the swimmer’s side and fall on him. An irresistible cry of despair burst from those in the ship. Some one shouted to haul on the line and pull him on board, and several seamen sprang to do so, but the captain checked them, for through his glass he could see Edgar struggling to free himself from the wreck. In a few minutes he succeeded, and the next wave hurled him on the rocky shore, to which he clung until the retreating water had lost its power. Then he rose, and struggling upwards, gained a ledge of rock where he was safe from the violence of the waves.
It need scarcely be said that his success was hailed with three tremendous cheers, and not a few deep and fervent exclamations of “Thank God” from some who regarded the young engineer’s safety as a foretaste of their own. Some there were, however, who knew that the work which yet remained to be done was fraught with danger as well as difficulty. This work was commenced without delay.
By means of the light line which he had carried ashore, Edgar hauled the two ends of a stouter line or small rope from the wreck. These two ends he quickly spliced together, thus making the rope an endless one, or, as seamen have it, an endless fall. The other loop, or bight, of this endless double-rope was retained on the wreck, having been previously rove through a block or pulley which was attached to the broken fore-mast about ten feet above the deck—in accordance with our “rocket apparatus” directions. In fact, the whole contrivance, got up so hastily at this time, was just an extemporised rocket apparatus without the rocket—Edgar having already performed the duty of that projectile, which is to effect communication between wreck and shore.
By means of the endless fall our hero now hauled a heavy rope or cable from the wreck, the end of which he fastened round a large boulder. This rope, being hauled taut, remained suspended between the wreck and the cliffs some feet above the sea. Previous to fixing it a large block had been run upon it, and to this block was suspended one of those circular cork life-preservers which one usually sees attached to the bulwarks of ships. It was made into a sort of bag by means of a piece of canvas. The endless fall was then attached to this bag so that it could travel with its block backwards and forwards on the thick cable.
The first who passed from the wreck to the shore by means of this contrivance was a stout seaman with two very small children in charge. The man was sent partly to give the passengers confidence in the safety of the mode of transit, and partly that he might aid Edgar in the working of the tackle. The next who passed was the mother of the children. Then followed Aileen, and after her the sweet singer. Thus, one by one, all the females and children on board were borne in safety to land.
After these the male passengers commenced to go ashore. A few of the older men were sent first. Among them was Mr Hazlit.
The unfortunate merchant was so weak as to be scarcely equal to the exertion of getting over the side into the life-buoy or bag, and he was so tall that, despite the efforts he made to double himself together, there was so much of him above the machine that he had a tendency to topple over. This would have mattered nothing if he had possessed even a moderate degree of power to hold on, but his hands were as weak as those of a child. However, the case being desperate, he made the attempt, and was sent away from the wreck with many earnest cautions to “hold on tight and keep cool.”
You may be sure that his progress was watched with intense anxiety by Aileen, who stood close to Edgar as he hauled in the rope carefully.
“Oh! He will fall out,” she cried in an agony as the rope dipped a little, and let him just touch the roaring surf, when he was somewhat more than half way over.
Edgar saw that her fears were not unlikely to be realised. He therefore gave the rope to the seaman who had first come ashore, with orders to haul steadily.
Owing to its position and the dipping of the life-buoy with its burden, the cable formed a pretty steep slope from the shore. Throwing himself on the cable, Edgar slid swiftly down this incline until stopped by the buoy. The effect of course was to sink the machine deeper than ever, insomuch that poor Mr Hazlit, unable any longer to withstand the buffeting, threw up his arms with a cry of despair. Edgar caught him as he was falling over.
“Here, put your arms round my neck,” he cried, struggling violently to fix himself firmly to the life-buoy.
The merchant obeyed instantly, giving the youth an embrace such as he had never expected to receive at his hands! Even in that moment of danger and anxiety, Edgar could not help smiling at the gaze of unutterable wonder which Mr Hazlit cast on him through the salt water—if not tears—that filled his eyes, for he had not seen the youth when he jumped overboard.
“Haul away!” shouted our hero; but the words were stifled by a sea which at the moment overwhelmed them.
The man at the line, however, knew what to do. He and some of the passengers hauled steadily but swiftly on the line, and in a few seconds the buoy, with its double freight, was brought safe to land. Mr Hazlit was carried at once by his rescuer to a recess in the cliffs which was partially protected from the storm, and Edgar, after doing what he could to place him comfortably on the ground, left him to the care of his daughter.
On his return to the beach he found the passengers who had been saved in a state of great alarm because of the slipping backwards of the wreck, which strained the cable so much that it had become as rigid as a bar of iron. He began, therefore, to ply the means of rescue with redoubled energy, for there were still some of the passengers and all the crew on board; but suddenly, while the buoy was being sent out for another freight, the cable snapt, the wreck slid off the shelf or ledge on which it had hung so long, and sank in deep water, leaving nothing save a momentary whirlpool in the surf to tell where the splendid ocean palace had gone down.
The horror that filled the minds of those who witnessed the catastrophe cannot be described. A feeling of dreary desolation and helplessness followed the sudden cessation of violent energy and hopeful toil in which most of them had been previously engaged. This was in some degree changed, if not relieved, by the necessity which lay on all to lace the vicissitudes of their new position.
That these were neither few nor light soon became apparent, for Edgar and the seaman, after an hour’s investigation, returned to their friends with the information that they had been cast on a small rocky islet, which was uninhabited, and contained not a vestige of wood or of anything that could sustain the life of man. Thus they were left without shelter or food, or the means of quitting the inhospitable spot—not, however, without hope, for one of the seamen said that he knew it to be an isle lying not very far from the mainland, and that it was almost certain to be passed ere long by ships or native boats.
On further search, too, a spring of fresh water was discovered, with sufficient grass growing near it to make comfortable beds for the women and children. The grass was spread under the shelter of an overhanging cliff, and as the weather was warm, though stormy, the feelings of despair that had at first overwhelmed young and old soon began to abate. During the day the gale decreased and a hot sun came out at intervals, enabling them to dry their soaking garments.
That night, taking Edgar aside, Mr Hazlit thanked him warmly for preserving his life.
“But,” said he, seriously, “forgive me if I at once broach a painful subject, and point out that our positions are not changed by this disaster. Much though I love my life I love my daughter’s happiness more, and I would rather die than allow her to marry—excuse me, Mr Berrington—a penniless man. Of course,” continued the merchant, with a sad smile as he looked around him, “it would be ridiculous as well as ungrateful were I to forbid your holding ordinary converse with herhere, but I trust to your honour that nothing more thanordinaryconverse shall pass between you.”
“My dear sir,” replied the youth, “you greatly mistake my spirit if you imagine that I would for one moment take advantage of the position in which I am now placed. I thank God for having permitted me to be the means of rendering aid to you and Ai— your daughter. Depend upon it I will not give you reason to regret having trusted my honour. But,” (he hesitated here) “you have referred to my position. If, in time and through God’s goodness, I succeed in improving my position; in gaining by industry a sufficiency of this world’s pelf to maintain Aileen in a condition of comfort approaching in some degree that in which she has been brought up, may I hope—may I—”
Mr Hazlit took the young man’s hand and said, “You may;” but he said it sadly, and with a look that seemed to imply that he had no expectation of Edgar ever attaining to the required position.
Satisfied with the shake of the hand, our hero turned abruptly away, and went off to ruminate by the sea-shore. At first he was filled with hope; then, as he thought of his being penniless and without influential friends, and of the immense amount of money that would have to be made in order to meet the wealthy merchant’s idea of comfort, he began to despair. Presently the words came to his mind—“Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass.” This revived him, and he began to run over in his mind all sorts of wild plans of making a huge fortune quickly! Again a word came to him—“Make not haste to be rich.”
“But whatismaking haste?” he thought, and his conscience at once replied, “Taking illegitimate courses—venturesome speculation without means—devotion of the soul and body to business in such a way as to demoralise the one and deteriorate the other—engaging in the pursuit of wealth hastily and with eager anxieties, which imply that you doubt God’s promise to direct and prosper all works committed to Him.”
“My plan, then,” thought Edgar, “is to maintain a calm and trusting mind; to be diligent in fulfillingpresentduty, whatever that may be; to look about for the direction that is promised, and take prompt advantage of any clear opportunity that offers. God helping me, I’ll try.”
Strong in his resolves, but, happily, stronger in his trust, he returned to the cavern in which his companions in misfortune had already laid them down to rest, and throwing himself on a bed of grass near the entrance, quickly fell into that profound slumber which is the perquisite of those who unite a healthy mind to a sound body.