Wild Adventures round the Pole
Page 9
deluge. The main-yard had come down,and one whaler was smashed into matchwood. I wish I could say this wasall, but two poor fellows lost for ever the number of their mess. Onewas seen floating about dead and unwounded on the deck ere the water gotclear; the other, with sadly splintered brow, was still clutching in adeath-grasp a rope that had bound a tarpaulin over a grating.
But away ahead appeared a long yellowish streak of clear sky, close tothe horizon. The danger had passed.
All hands were now called to clear away the wreck and make good repairs.The pumps, too, had to be set to work, and as soon as the wind camedown on them from the clear of the horizon, sail was set, for the fireshad been drowned out.
The wind increased to a gale, and there was nothing for it but to layto. And so they did all that night and all next day; then the weathermoderated, and the wind coming more easterly they were able to show morecanvas, and to resume their course with something akin to comfort.
The bodies of the two poor fellows who had met with so sad a fate werecommitted to the deep--the sailor's grave.
"Earth to earth and dust to dust."
There was more than one moist eye while those words were uttered, forthe men had both been great favourites with their messmates.
Rory was sitting that evening with his elbows resting on the saloontable, his chin on his hands, and a book in front of him that he was notlooking at, when McBain came below.
"You're quieter than usual," said McBain, placing a kindly hand on hisshoulder.
Rory smiled, forced a laugh even, as one does who wants to shake off anincubus.
"I was thinking," he said, "of that awful black forest of waterspouts.I'll never get it out of my head."
"Oh! yes you will, boy Rory," said McBain; "it was a new sensation,that's all."
"New sensation!" said Allan, laughing in earnest; "well, captain, I mustsay that is a mild way of putting it. _I_ don't want any more suchsensations. Steward, bring some nice hot coffee."
"Ay!" cried Ralph, "that's the style, Allan. Some coffee, steward--and,steward, bring the cold pork and fowls, and make some toast, and bringthe butter and the Chili vinegar."
Poor Irish Rory! Like every one with a poetic temperament, he waseasily cast down, and just as easily raised again. Ralph's wondrousappetite always amused him.
"Oh, you true Saxon!" said Rory--"you hungry Englishman!" But, tenminutes afterwards, he felt himself constrained to join the party at thesupper table.
You see, reader mine, a sailor's life is like an April day--sunshine nowand showers anon.
"How now, Stevenson?" said McBain, as the mate entered with a kind of apuzzled look on his face.
"Well, sir, we are, as you said, off the Faroes. The night is preciousdark, but I can see the lights of a village in here, and the lights of avessel of some size, evidently lying at anchor."
"Then, mate," said the captain, "as we don't know exactly where we are,I don't think we can do wrong to steam in and drop anchor alongside thiscraft. We can then board her and find out. How is the weather?"
"A bit thick, sir, and seems inclined to blow a little from theeast-south-east."
"Let it, Stevenson--let it. If the other vessel can ride it out I don'tthink the _Arrandoon_ is likely to lose her anchors. Hullo! Mitchell,"he continued, as the second mate next entered hat in hand, "what's inthe wind now, man?"
"Why, sir," said Mitchell, "I'm all ashore like, you see; I can't makeit out. But here is a boat just been a-hailing of us, and thepassenger--there is only one, a comely lass enough--has just come onboard, and wants to see you at once. Seems a bit cranky. Here she be,sir;" and Mitchell retired.
A young girl. She was probably not over seventeen, fair-faced, and withwild blue eyes, and yellow hair, dripping with dew, floating over hershoulders.
"Stop the ship!" she cried, seizing McBain by the arm. "Go no farther,or her ribs will be scattered over the waves, and your bones will bleachon the cliffs of the rocks."
"Poor thing!" muttered McBain. "Oh, you heed me not!" continued thegirl, wringing her hands in despair. "It will be too late--it will betoo late! I tell you here is no harbour, here is no ship. The lightsyou see are placed there to lure your vessel on shore. They arewreckers, I tell you; they will--"
"By the deep three!" sung the man in the chains.
Then there was a shout from the man at the foretop.
"Breakers ahead!"
Then, "Stand by both anchors. Ready about."
CHAPTER SIX.
A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE--ON THE ROCKS--MYSTERY--A HOME ON THE ROLLINGDEEP.
Has the reader ever been to sea? The first feeling that a landsmanobjects to at sea is that of the heaving motion of the ship; to yourtrue sailor the cessation of that motion, or its absence undercircumstances, is disagreeable in the extreme. To me there is always acertain air of romance about the old ocean, and about a ship at sea; butwhat can be less romantic than lying in a harbour or dull wet dock, withno more life nor motion in your craft than there is in the slopshopround the corner? To lie thus and probably have to listen to thegrating voices and pointless jokes of semi-inebriated stevedores, asthey load or unload, soiling, as they do, your beautiful decks withtheir dreadful boots, is very far from pleasant. In a case like thishow one wishes to be away out on the blue water once more, and to feellife in the good ship once again--to feel, as it were, her very heartthrob beneath one's feet!
But disagreeable as the sensation is of lying lifeless in harbour ordock, still more so is it to feel your vessel, that one moment beforewas sailing peacefully over the sea, suddenly rasp on a rock beneathyou, then stop dead. Nothing in the world will wake a sailor sooner,even should he be in the deepest of slumber, than this sudden cessationof motion. I remember on one particular occasion being awakened thus.No crew ever went to sleep with a greater feeling of security than wehad done, for the night was fine and the ship went well. But all atonce, about four bells in the middle watch,--
Kurr-r-r-r! that was the noise we heard proceeding from our keel, thenall was steady, all was still. And every man sprang from his hammock,every officer from his cot.
We were in the middle of the Indian Ocean, or rather the MozambiqueChannel, with no land in sight, and we were hard and fast on the dreadedLyra reef. A beautiful night it was, just enough wind to make a rippleon the water for the broad moon's beams to dance in, a cloudless sky,and countless stars. We took all this in at the first glance. Safeenough we were--for the time; _but_ if the wind rose there was thecertainty of our being broken up, even as the war-ship _Lyra_ was, thatgave its name to the reef.
At the first shout from the man on the outlook in the _Arrandoon_,McBain rushed on deck. "Stand by both anchors. Ready about." Butthese orders are, alas! too late. Kurr-r-r-r! The stately _Arrandoon_is hard and fast on the rocky bottom.
The ship was under easy sail, for although there was hardly any wind,what little there was gave evident signs of shifting. It might come onto blow, and blow pretty hard, too, from the south-east oreast-south-east, and Mr Stevenson was hardly the man to be caught in atrap, to find himself on a lee shore or a rock-bound coast, with a crowdof canvas. Well for our people it was that there was but little sail onher and little wind, or, speedily as everything was let go, the masts--some of them at least--would have gone by the board.
Half an hour after she struck, the _Arrandoon_ was under bare poles andsteam was up.
The order had been given to get up steam with all speed. Both theengineer and his two assistants were brawny Scots.
"Man!" said the former, "it'll take ye a whole hour to get up steam ifyou bother wi' coals and cinders alone. But do your best wi' what yehae till I come back."
He wasn't gone long ere he came staggering down the ladder again,carrying a sack.
"It's American hams," he said; "they're hardly fit for anything else butfuel, so here goes."
And he popped a couple into the fire.
"That's the style," he said, as they began to frizzle
and blaze. "Look,lads, the kettle'll be boilin' in twa seconds."
"Thank you, Stuart," said McBain, when the engineer went on the bridgeto report everything ready; "you are a valuable servant; now stand by toreceive orders."
All hands had been called, and there was certainly plenty for them todo.
It wanted several hours to high-water, and McBain determined to make thebest of his time.
"By the blessing of Providence on our own exertions, Stevenson," thecaptain said, "we'll get her off all right. Had it been high-water,though, when we ran on shore, eh!"
Stevenson laughed a grim laugh. "We'd leave her bones here," he said,"that would be