CHAPTER TWO.
THE "BETSY JANE."
Once fairly out of the breakers the fishermen--at great risk to theirlittle craft--opened the companion leading down into the _Seamew's_ tinyafter-cabin, and the poor souls from the wreck were conveyed below, outof the reach of the bitter blast and the incessant showers of icy spray.Bob and two or three others of the smack's crew also went below andbusied themselves in lighting a fire, routing out such blankets andwraps of various kinds as happened to be on board, and in other waysdoing what they could to ameliorate the deplorable condition of theirguests. Fortunately the wind, dead against them on the way out, wasfair for the homeward run, and the _Seamew_ rushed through the water ata rate which caused "Dicky" Bird to exclaim--
"Blest if the little huzzy don't seem to know as they poor innercentbabbies' lives depends on their gettin' into mother Salmon's hands andatween her hot blankets within the next hour! Just see how she'ssmoking through it."
Very soon the "Middle" lightship was reached, and as the smack sweptpast old Bill shouted to the light-keepers the joyful news of therescue. A few minutes afterwards three rockets were sent up at shortintervals from the smack, as an intimation to "mother" Salmon that hergood services were required; and in due time the gallant little smackfound her way back to her moorings in the creek.
The anchor was scarcely let go when three or four boats dashedalongside, and "Well, Bill, old man, what luck?" was the generalquestion.
"Five-and-twenty, thank God, men, women, and children," responded oldBill. "Did ye catch sight of our rockets, boys!"
"Ay, ay; never fear. And `mother' ashore there, she's never turned-inat all this blessed night. Said as she was _sure_ you'd bring somebodyin; and a rare rousing fire she's got roaring up the chimbley, andblankets, no end; all the beds made up and warmed, and everything ready,down to a rattlin' good hot supper; so let's have these poor souls up ondeck (you've got 'em below, I s'pose), and get 'em ashore; they must bepretty nigh froze to death, I should think."
At Bill's cheery summons the survivors from the wreck staggered to thesmack's deck--their cramped and frozen limbs scarcely able to sustainthem--and the bewildered glances which they cast round them at thescarcely ruffled waters of the creek glancing in the clear frostymoonlight, with the fishing smacks and other small craft riding cosilyat anchor on either side, the straggling village of Brightlingsea withina stone's throw--a tiny light still twinkling here and there in thecottage windows, and a perfect blaze of ruddy light streaming from thewindows of the "Anchor," and flooding the road with its cheerfulradiance--the bewildered glances with which they regarded this scene, Isay, showed that even now they were scarcely able to realise the fact oftheir deliverance.
But they were not left very long in doubt about it. As they emergedwith slow and painful steps from the smack's tiny companion, strong armsseized them, all enwrapped in blankets as they were, and quickly buttenderly passed them over the side into the small boats which had comeoff from the shore for them. Then, as each boat received itscomplement, "Shove off" was the word; the bending oars churned the waterinto miniature whirlpools, and with a dozen powerful strokes the boatwas sent half her length high and dry upon the shore. Then strong armsonce more raised the sufferers, and quickly bore them within the wide-open portal of the hospitable "Anchor," where "mother" Salmon waited toreceive them.
"Eh, goodness sakes alive!" she exclaimed, as the first man appearedwithin the flood of light which streamed from the "Anchor" windows."You, Sam; you don't mean to say as there's women amongst 'em."
"Ah! that there is, mother," panted Sam, "and children--poor littlehelpless babbies, some on 'em, too."
The quick warm tears of womanly sympathy instantly flashed into theworthy woman's eyes; but she was not one prone to much indulgence insentiment, particularly at a time like the present; so instead oflifting up her hands and giving expression to her pity in words, shefaced sharply round upon the maids who were crowding forward, with thecuriosity of their sex, to catch a first glimpse of the strangers, andexclaimed--
"Now then, you idle huzzies, what d'ye mean by blocking up the passageso that a body can get neither in nor out? D'ye want these poor soulsto be _quite_ froze to death before you lets 'em in? You, Em'ly, be offto Number 4 and run the warmin' pan through the bed, and give the fire agood stir. Emma, do wake up, child, and take a couple of buckets of hotwater up to Number 4, and put 'em in the bath. Run, Mary Jane, for yourlife, and see if the fire in Number 7 is burning properly; and you,Susan, be off and turn down all the beds."
The maids rushed off to their several duties like startled deer, whilethe mistress turned to Sam and directed him to convey his burden toNumber 4, herself leading the way.
A number of women, the mothers and wives of the fishermen, had gatheredat the "Anchor" as soon as it was known that the smack had gone out to awreck, in order that they might be at hand to render any assistancewhich might be required. They were all collected in the bar-parlour;and two of them now rose, in obedience to "mother" Salmon's summons, andfollowing her upstairs, took over from Sam their patient; and, shuttingthe door, lost not a moment in applying such restoratives and adoptingsuch measures as their experience taught them would be most likely toprove beneficial.
The rest of the survivors speedily followed; the women and childrenbeing promptly conveyed to the rooms already prepared for them; but themen, for the most part, proved to be very little the worse for theirexposure, seeming to need for their restoration a good hot supper morethan anything else; and this contingency also having by "mother"Salmon's experience and foresight been provided for, the rescued andtheir rescuers were soon seated together at the same table busilyengaged in the endeavour to restore their exhausted energies.
One man only of the entire party seemed unable to do justice to the mealspread before him, and this was the master of the wrecked ship. Heseated himself indeed at the table, and made an effort to eat and drink,but his thoughts were evidently elsewhere. He could not settlecomfortably down to his meal, but kept gliding softly out of the room,to glide as softly back again after an absence of a few minutes, when hewould abstractedly swallow a mouthful or two, and then glide out oncemore. At length, after a somewhat longer absence than before, hereturned to the room in which the meal was being discussed, the look ofcare and anxiety on his face replaced by an expression of almostoverwhelming joy, and, walking up to Bob, somewhat astonished thatindividual by exclaiming--
"Young man, let me without further delay tender you and your bravecomrades my most hearty thanks for the rescue of my passengers, my crew,and myself from a situation of deadly peril, a rescue which was onlyeffected at very great hazard to yourselves, and which was successfullyaccomplished mainly--I am sure your comrades will join me in saying--through _your_ indomitable courage and perseverance. The debt which Iowe you is one that it will be quite impossible for me ever to repay; Ican merely acknowledge it and testify to the overwhelming nature of myobligation, for to your gallant behaviour, under God, I owe not only thedeliverance of twenty-five human lives from a watery grave, but also thesafety of my wife and only child--all, in fact, that I have left to meto make life worth living. As I have said, it will be quite impossiblefor me ever to cancel so heavy a debt; but what I _can_ do I _will_.Your conduct shall be so represented in the proper quarter as to securefor you all the honour which such noble service demands; and, for therest, I hope you will always remember that Captain Staunton--that is myname--will deem no service that you may require of him too great to bepromptly rendered. And what I say to you especially, I say also to allyour gallant comrades, who will, I hope, accept the grateful thankswhich I now tender to them."
Poor Bob blushed like a girl at these warm outspoken praises, andstammered some deprecatory remarks, which, however, were drowned by themore vigorous disclaimers of the rest of the fishermen and theirsomewhat noisy applause of the shipwrecked captain's manly speech; inthe midst of which commotion "mother" Salmon entered to enjoin strictsilence an
d to announce the gratifying intelligence that all the womenand children were doing well, including the skipper's little daughter,the apparently lifeless body of whom Bob had recovered when first heboarded the wreck. A low murmur of satisfaction greeted thisannouncement, and then all hands fell to once more upon their supper,which was soon afterwards concluded, when old Bill and his mates,shaking hands heartily all round, retired to seek the rest which theyhad so well-earned, while the shipwrecked men were disposed of as wellas circumstances would allow in the few remaining unappropriated bed-rooms of the hospitable "Anchor."
By noon next day the shipwrecked party had all so far recovered thatthey were able to set out on the journey to their several homes.Captain Staunton sought out old Bill and arranged with him respectingthe salvage of the wrecked ship's cargo, after which he handed theveteran fisherman, as remuneration for services already rendered, adraft upon the owners of the _Diadem_, which more than satisfied thesmack's crew for all their perils and exertions of the previous night.He then left for London to perform the unpleasant duty of reporting tohis owners the loss of their ship, mentioning, before he left, theprobability of his speedy return to personally superintend the salvageoperations. In bidding adieu to Bob, who happened to be present whilethe final arrangements with old Bill were being made, Captain Stauntonremarked to him--
"I have been thinking a great deal about you, my lad. You are a finegallant young fellow, and it seems to me it would be a very great pityfor you to waste your life in pursuit of the arduous and unprofitableoccupation of fishing. What say you? Would you like to take to the seaas a profession? If so, let me know. I owe you a very heavy debt, as Ihave already said, and nothing would afford me greater pleasure than torepay you, as far as possible, by personally undertaking your training,and afterwards using what little interest I possess to advance you inyour career. Think the matter over, and consult with your father uponit"--he was not then aware of poor Bob's peculiar position--"and let meknow your decision when I return. Now, once more, good-bye for thepresent."
The weather having moderated by the next day, the _Seamew's_ crewcommenced salvage operations at the wreck, and for more than a week allhands were so busy, early and late, that Bob had literally no time tothink about, much less to consult with old Bill respecting, CaptainStaunton's proposal.
On the third day the chief mate of the _Diadem_ appeared atBrightlingsea, having been sent down by the owners to superintend thework at the wreck. He announced that he had been sent instead ofCaptain Staunton, in consequence of the appointment of the latter by hisowners to the command of a fine new ship then loading in the LondonDocks for Australia. It appeared that Captain Staunton stood so high inthe estimation of his employers, and possessed such a thoroughly-established reputation for skill and sobriety that, notwithstanding hisrecent misfortune, there had been no hesitation about employing himagain. A few days later a letter came from the captain himself to Bobconfirming this intelligence, and stating that he had then a vacancy forhis young friend if he chose to fill it.
Bob, however, as has already been remarked, was at the time too busy togive the matter proper consideration, so he wrote back saying as much,and hinting that perhaps on the return of the ship to England he mightbe glad to have a repetition of the offer.
To this letter a reply soon came, announcing the immediate departure ofthe ship, and containing a specific offer to receive Bob on board in thecapacity of apprentice on her next voyage.
The idea of taking to the sea as a profession was so thoroughly novel toBob that he had at first some little difficulty in realising all that itmeant. Hitherto he had had no other intention or ambition than topotter about in a fishing smack with old Bill, living a hard life,earning a precarious subsistence, and possibly, if exceptionallyfortunate, at some period in the far-distant future, attaining to theownership of a smack himself. But a month or two later on, when all hadbeen saved that it was possible to save from the wreck, and when nothingremained of the once fine ship but a few shattered timbers embedded inthe sand, and showing at low water like the fragment of a skeleton ofsome leviathan; when Bob found time to fully discuss the matter with oldBill Maskell and his mates, these worthies painted the advantages of aregular seaman's life over those of the mere fisherman in such glowingcolours, and dwelt so enthusiastically upon the prospects which wouldsurely open out before our hero under the patronage of a man likeCaptain Staunton, that Bob soon made up his mind to accept the captain'soffer and join him on his return to England.
Having once come to this decision the lad was all impatience for thetime to arrive when he might embark upon his career. As it is with mostlads, so it was with him, the prospect of a complete change in his modeof life was full of pleasurable excitement; and perhaps it was onlynatural that, now he had decided to forsake it, the monotonous humdrumfisher's life became almost unbearably irksome to him. Old Bill Maskellwas not slow to observe this, and with the unselfishness which was soeminently characteristic of him, though he loved the lad as his ownsoul, he decided to shorten for him as far as possible the weary time ofwaiting, and send him away at once.
Accordingly, on the first opportunity that presented itself, he remarkedto Bob--
"I say, boy, I've been turnin' matters over in my mind a bit, and itseems to me as a v'yage or two in a coaster 'd do you a power o' goodafore you ships aboard a `South-Spainer.' You're as handy a lad as aman need wish to be shipmates with, aboard a fore-and-aft-rigged craft;but you ought to know some'at about square-rigged vessels too afore yousails foreign. Now, what d'ye say to a trip or two in a collier brig,just to larn the ropes like, eh?"
Note: "South-Spainer"--A term frequently employed by seamen to designatea foreign-going ship, especially one sailing to southern waters.--H.C.
Life on board a collier is not, as a rule, a condition of unalloyedfelicity; but Bob was happily, or unhappily, ignorant of this; thesuggestion conveyed to his mind only the idea of _change_, and his facelighted joyfully up at his benefactor's proposition, to which he at onceeagerly assented.
Bob's slender wardrobe was accordingly at once overhauled and put into acondition of thorough repair; Bill, meantime, employing himselflaboriously in an effort to ascertain, through the medium of avoluminous correspondence, the whereabouts of an old friend of his--lastheard of by the said Bill as in command of a collier brig--with a viewto the securing for Bob a berth as "ordinary seaman" under a "skipper"of whom Bill knew something, and who could be trusted to treat the ladwell.
Old Bill's labours were at length rewarded with success, "Captain"--ashe loved to be styled--Turnbull's address in London being definitelyascertained, together with the gratifying intelligence that he stillretained the command of the _Betsy Jane_.
Matters having progressed thus far satisfactorily, old Bill's nextbusiness was to write to "Captain" Turnbull, asking him if he couldreceive Bob on board; and in about a month's time a favourable answerwas received, naming a day upon which Bob was to run up to London andsign articles.
Bob's departure from Brightlingsea was regarded by his numerous friendsin the village quite in the light of an event; and when the morningcame, and with it the market-cart which was to convey him and hisbelongings, together with old Bill, to Colchester, where they were totake train to London, nearly all the fishermen in the place, to saynothing of their wives and little ones, turned out to say farewell.
The journey was accomplished in safety and without adventure; andshortly after noon Bill and Bob found themselves threading their waythrough the narrow crowded streets to the "captain's" address, somewherein the neighbourhood of Wapping.
On reaching the house the gallant skipper was found to be at home, inthe act of partaking, together with his wife and family, of the mid-daymeal, which on that occasion happened to be composed of "pickled porkand taturs." Old Bill and Bob were gruffly but cordially invited tojoin the family circle, which they did; Bob making a thoroughly heartymeal, quite unmoved by the coquettish endeavours of Miss Turnbull, astout, good-tem
pered, but not particularly beautiful damsel of someseventeen summers, to attract the attention and excite the admiration of"pa's handsome new sailor."
"Captain" Turnbull proved to be a very stout but not very tall man, witha somewhat vacant expression of feature, and a singular habit of lookingfixedly and in apparent amazement for a full minute at anyone whohappened to address him. These, with a slow ponderous movement of body,a fixed belief in his own infallibility, and an equally firm belief inthe unsurpassed perfections of the _Betsy Jane_, were his chiefcharacteristics; and as he is destined to figure for a very brief periodonly in the pages of the present history, we need not analyse him anyfurther.
After dinner had been duly discussed, together with a glass of grog--sofar at least as the "captain," his wife, and old Bill were concerned--our two friends were invited by the proud commander to pay a visit ofinspection to the _Betsy Jane_. That venerable craft proved to be lyingin the stream, the outside vessel of a number of similar craft moored ina tier, head and stern, to great slimy buoys, laid down as permanentmoorings in the river. A wherry was engaged by the skipper, for whichold Bill paid when the time of settlement arrived, the "captain" beingapparently unconscious of the fact that payment was necessary, and thethree proceeded on board. The brig turned out to be about as bad aspecimen of her class as could well be met with--old, rotten, leaky, anddirty beyond all power of description. Nevertheless her skipper waxedso astonishingly eloquent when he began to speak her praises, that theidea never seemed to occur to either Bill or Bob that to venture to seain her would be simply tempting Providence, and it was consequently soonarranged that our hero was to sign articles, nominally as an ordinaryseaman, but, in consideration of his ignorance of square-rigged craft,to receive only the pay of a boy.
This point being settled the party returned to the shore, old Bill andBob going for a saunter through some of the principal streets, to enjoythe cheap but rare luxury, to simple country people like themselves, ofa look into the shop windows, with the understanding that they were toaccept the hospitality of the Turnbull mansion until the time forsailing should arrive on the morrow.
Bob wished very much to visit one of the theatres that evening--atheatre being a place of entertainment which up to that time he hadnever had an opportunity of entering; but old Bill, anxious tocultivate, on Bob's behalf, the goodwill of the _Betsy Jane's_commander, thought it would be wiser to spend the evening with thatworthy. This arrangement was accordingly carried out, the "bestparlour" being thrown open by Mrs Turnbull for the occasion. MissTurnbull and Miss Jemima Turnbull contributed in turn their share towardthe evening's entertainment by singing "Hearts of Oak," "The Bay ofBiscay," "Then farewell my trim-built wherry," and other songs of asimilar character, to a somewhat uncertain accompaniment upon adiscordant jangling old piano--the chief merit of which was that a largeproportion of its notes were dumb. Their gallant father meanwhilesipped his grog and puffed away at his "church-warden" in a high-backeduncomfortable-looking chair in a corner near the fire, utterly sunk,apparently, in a fit of the most profound abstraction, from which hewould occasionally start without the slightest warning, and in a mostalarming manner, to bellow out--generally at the wrong time and to thewrong tune--something which his guests were expected to regard as achorus. The chorus ended he would again sink, like a stone, as abruptlyback into his inner consciousness as he had emerged from it. So passedthe evening, without the slightest pretence at conversation, though bothBill and Bob made several determined efforts to start a topic; and so,as music, even of the kind performed by the Misses Turnbull, palls aftera time, about eleven p.m. old Bill hinted at fatigue from the unusualexertions of the day, proposed retirement, and, with Bob, was shown tothe room wherein was located the "shakedown" offered them by thehospitable skipper. The "shakedown" proved to be in reality two fair-sized beds, which would have been very comfortable had they been muchcleaner than they were, and our two friends enjoyed a very fair night'srest.
Bob duly signed articles on the following morning, and then, in companywith his shipmates, proceeded on board the _Betsy Jane_. CaptainTurnbull put in an appearance about an hour afterwards, when the orderwas given to unmoor ship, and the brig began to drop down the river withthe tide. Toward evening a fine fair wind sprang up, and the _BetsyJane_, being only in ballast, then began to travel at a rate which threwher commander into an indescribable state of ecstasy. The voyage wasaccomplished without the occurrence of any incident worth recording, andin something like a week from the date of sailing from London, Bob foundhimself at Shields, with the brig under a coal-drop loading again forthe Thames.
Some half a dozen similarly uneventful voyages to the Tyne and back toLondon were made by Bob in the _Betsy Jane_. The life of a seaman onboard a collier is usually of a very monotonous character, without asingle attractive feature in it--unless, maybe, that it admits offrequent short sojourns at home--and Bob's period of service underCaptain Turnbull might have been dismissed with the mere mention of thecircumstance, but for the incident which terminated that service.
It occurred on the sixth voyage which Bob had made in the _Betsy Jane_.The brig had sailed from the Tyne, loaded with coals for London asusual, with a westerly wind, which, however, shortly afterwards backedto S.S.W., with a rapidly falling barometer. The appearance of theweather grew very threatening, which, coupled with the facts that thecraft was old, weak, and a notoriously poor sailer with the windanywhere but on her quarter, seemed to suggest, as the most prudentcourse under the circumstances, a return to the port they had just left.The mate, after many uneasy glances to windward, turned to his superiorofficer, who was sitting by the companion placidly smoking, and proposedthis.
The skipper slowly withdrew his pipe from his mouth, and, afterregarding his mate for some moments, as though that individual were aperfect stranger who had suddenly and unaccountably made his appearanceon board, ejaculated--
"Why?"
"Well, I'm afeard we're goin' to have a very dirty night on it," was thereply.
"Umph!" was the captain's only commentary, after which he resumed hispipe, and seemed inclined to doze.
Meanwhile the wind, which had hitherto been of the strength of a fairworking breeze, rapidly increased in force, with occasional sharpsqualls preceded by heavy showers of rain, while the threatening aspectof the weather grew _every_ moment more unmistakable. The brig wasunder topgallant-sails, tearing and thrashing through the short choppysea in a way which sent the spray flying continuously in dense clouds inover her bluff bows, until her decks were mid-leg deep in water, and herstumpy topgallant-masts where whipping about aloft to such an extentthat they threatened momentarily to snap off short at the caps. It wasnot considered etiquette on board the _Betsy Jane_ for the mate to issuean order while the captain had the watch, as was the case on the presentoccasion; but seeing a heavy squall approaching he now waived etiquettefor the nonce and shouted--
"Stand by your to'gallan' halliards! Let go and clew up! Haul down thejib."
"Eh!" said the skipper, deliberately removing his pipe from his mouth,and looking around him in the greatest apparent astonishment.
Down rushed the squall, howling and whistling through the rigging,careening the brig until the water spouted up through her scuppers, andcausing the gear aloft to crack and surge ominously.
"Let fly the tops'l halliards, fore and main!" yelled the mate.
The men leapt to their posts, the ropes rattled through the blocks, theyards slid down the top-masts until they rested on the caps, and with aterrific thrashing and fluttering of canvas the brig rose to a moreupright position, saving her spars by a mere hair's-breadth.
Captain Turnbull rose slowly to his feet, and, advancing to where themate stood near the main-rigging, tapped that individual softly on theshoulder with his pipe-stem.
The mate turned round.
Captain Turnbull looked fixedly at him for some moments as though hethought he recognised him, but was not quite sure, and then observed--
&n
bsp; "I say, are you the cap'n of this ship?"
"No, sir," replied the mate.
"Very well, then," retorted the skipper, "don't you do it agen." Thento the crew, all of whom were by this time on deck, "Bowse down yerreef-tackles and double-reef the taups'ls, then stow the mains'l."
"Don't you think we'd better run back to the Tyne, afore we drops toofar to leeward to fetch it?" inquired the mate.
The captain looked at him in his characteristic fashion for a fullminute; inquired, "Are _you_ the cap'n of this ship?"
And then, without waiting for a reply, replaced his pipe between hislips, staggered back to his seat, and contemplatively resumed hissmoking.
The fact is that Captain Turnbull was actually pondering upon theadvisability of putting back when the mate unluckily suggested theadoption of such a course. Dull and inert as was the skipper of the_Betsy Jane_, he was by no means an unskilled seaman. The fact that hehad safely navigated the crazy old craft to and fro between the Thamesand the Tyne, in fair weather and foul, for so many years, wassufficient evidence of this. He had duly marked the portentous aspectof the weather, and was debating within himself the question whether heshould put back, or whether he should keep on and take his chance ofweathering the gale, as he had already weathered many others.Unfortunately his mind was, like himself, rather heavy and slow inaction, and he had not nearly completed the process of "making it up"when the mate offered his suggestion. _That_ settled the question atonce. The "captain" was as obstinate and unmanageable a man as everbreathed, and it was only necessary for some one to suggest a course andhe would at once adopt a line of action in direct opposition to it.Hence his resolve to remain at sea in the present instance.
Having finally committed himself to this course, however, he bracedhimself together for the coming conflict with the elements, and when thewatch below was called at eight bells all hands were put to the task ofplacing the ship under thoroughly snug canvas before the relieved watchwas permitted to go below. The brig was normally in so leaky acondition that she regularly required pumping out every two hours whenunder canvas, a task which in ordinary weather usually occupied some tenminutes. If the weather was stormy it took somewhat longer to make thepumps suck, and, accordingly, no one was very much surprised when, onthe watch going to the pumps just before eight bells, an honest quarterof an hour was consumed in freeing the old craft from the water whichhad drained in here and there during the last two hours. Their task atlength accomplished the men in the skipper's watch, of whom Bob was one,lost no time in tumbling into their berths "all standing," where theysoon forgot their wet and miserable condition in profound sleep.Captain Turnbull, contrary to his usual custom, at the conclusion of hiswatch retired from the deck only to change his wet garments and envelophimself in a suit of very old and very leaky oilskins, when he resumedonce more his favourite seat by the companion, stolidly resolved towatch the gale out, let it last as long as it might.
Note: "All standing" in this case means without removing any of theirclothing.
A _gale_ in good truth it had by this time become; the wind howlingfuriously through the brig's rigging, and threatening momentarily toblow her old worn and patched canvas out of the bolt-ropes. The dullleaden-coloured ragged clouds raced tumultuously athwart the moonlitsky; now veiling the scene in deep and gloomy shadow as they sweptacross the moon's disc, and anon opening out for an instant to flood thebrig, the sea, and themselves in the glory of the silver rays. The capsof the waves, torn off by the wind, filled the air with a dense saltrain, which every now and then gleamed up astern with all the magicalbeauty of the lunar rainbow; but though the scene would doubtless haveravished the soul of an artist by its weird splendour, it is probablethat such an individual would have wished for a more comfortable view-point than the deck of the _Betsy Jane_. That craft was now rolling andpitching heavily in the short choppy sea, smothering herself with sprayeverywhere forward of the fore-mast, filling her decks with water, which_swished_ and surged restlessly about and in over the men's boot-topswith every motion of the vessel, and straining herself until the noiseof her creaking timbers and bulkheads rivalled the shriek of the gale.
At four bells the _Betsy Jane_ gave the watch just half an hour ofsteady work to pump her out.
This task at length ended, the men, wet and tired, sought such partialshelter as was afforded by the lee of the longboat where she stood overthe main hatch, the lee side of the galley, or peradventure the interiorof the same, and there enjoyed such forgetfulness of their discomfort ascould be obtained in a weazel-like surreptitious sleep--with one eyeopen, on watch for the possible approach of the skipper or mate. All ofthem, that is, except one, who called himself the look-out. This man,well cased in oilskin, stationed himself at the bowsprit-end--whichbeing just beyond the reach of the spray from the bows, was possibly asdry a place as there was throughout the ship, excepting, perhaps, hercabin--and sitting astride the spar and wedging his back firmly inbetween the two parts of the double fore-stay, found himself socomfortably situated that in less than five minutes he was sound asleep.
Captain Turnbull, meanwhile, occupied his favourite seat near thecompanion, and smoked contemplatively, while the mate staggered fore andaft from the main-mast to the taffrail, on the weather side of the deck,it being his watch.
Suddenly the mate stopped short in his walk, and the skipper ejaculated"Umph!"
The attention of both had at the same moment been arrested by somethingpeculiar in the motion of the brig.
"Sound the pumps," observed the skipper, apparently addressing the moon,which at that moment gleamed brightly forth from behind a heavy cloud.
The mate took the sounding-rod, and, first of all drying it and the linecarefully, dropped it down the pump-well. Hauling it up again, he tookit aft to the binnacle, the somewhat feeble light from which showed thatthe entire rod and a portion of the line was wet.
"More'n three feet water in th' hold!" exclaimed the mate.
"Call the hands," remarked Captain Turnbull, directing his voice downthe companion as though he were speaking to some one in the cabin.
The crew soon mustered at the pumps, and manned them both, relievingeach other every ten minutes.
After three-quarters of an hour of vigorous pumping there was as littlesign of the pumps sucking as at the commencement.
They were then again sounded, with the result that the crew appeared tohave gained something like three inches upon the leak.
The men accordingly resumed pumping, in a half-hearted sort of way,however, which seemed to say that they had no very great hope of freeingthe ship.
Another hour passed, and the pumps were again sounded.
"Three foot ten! The leak gains on us!" proclaimed the mate in a lowvoice, as he and the skipper bent together over the rod at the binnacle-lamp.
Shortly afterwards the wheel was relieved; the man who had been steeringtaking at the pumps the place of the one who had relieved him.
A hurried consultation immediately took place amongst the men; andpresently one of them walked aft to where the skipper was seated, andremarked--
"The chaps is sayin', skipper, as how they thinks the best thing we cando is to `up stick' and run for the nearest port."
The skipper looked inquiringly at the man for so long a time that thefellow grew quite disconcerted; after which he shook his headhopelessly, as though he had been addressed in some strange and utterlyunintelligible language, and, withdrawing his pipe from his mouth,pointed solemnly in the direction of the pumps.
The man took the hint and retired.
The mate, who had witnessed this curious interview, then passed over tothe lee side of the deck, and steadying himself by the companion, bentdown and said in a low voice to his superior--
"After all, cap'n, Tom's about right; the old barkie 'll go down underour feet unless we can get her in somewheres pretty soon."
Captain Turnbull, with his hands resting on his knees, and hisextinguished pipe placed bowl downwards
between his teeth, regarded hismate with the blank astonishment we may imagine in one who believes heat last actually sees a genuine ghost, and finally gasped in sepulchraltones--
"Are you the cap'n of this ship?"
The mate knew that, after this, there was nothing more to be said, so hewalked forward to the pumps, and, by voice and example, strove toanimate the men to more earnest efforts.
Another hour passed. The pumps were again sounded; and now it becameevident that the leak was rapidly gaining. The general opinion of themen was that the labouring of the brig in the short sea had strained herso seriously as to open more or less all her seams, or that a butt hadstarted. They pumped away for another hour; and then, feeling prettywell fagged out, and finding on trial that the leak gained upon themwith increased rapidity, they left the pumps, and began to clear awaythe boats. The mate made a strong effort to persuade them to return totheir duty, but, being himself by that time convinced of theimpossibility of saving the ship, he was unsuccessful. Seeing this, he,too, retired below, and hastily bundling together his own traps andthose of the skipper, brought them on deck and placed them in the stern-sheets of the longboat. The men had by this time brought their bags andchests on deck; and finding that the brig had meanwhile settled so deepin the water that her deck was awash, they lost no time in getting theirbelongings, as well as a bag or two of bread and a couple of breakers ofwater, into the boat. The _Betsy Jane_ was then hove-to; and as she wasrolling far too heavily to render it possible to hoist the boat out, themen proceeded to knock the brig's bulwarks away on the lee side, withthe intention of launching her off the deck. This task they at lastaccomplished, aided materially therein by the sea, which by this timewas washing heavily across the deck. The crew then passed into her oneby one--Bob among the rest--and made their final preparations forleaving the devoted brig.
Seeing that all was ready the mate then went up to the skipper, whostill maintained his position on his favourite seat, and said--
"Come, skipper, we're only waitin' for you, and by all appearances wemustn't wait very long neither."
Captain Turnbull raised his head like one awakened from a deep sleep,glanced vacantly round the deserted decks, pulled strongly two or threetimes at his long-extinguished pipe, and then two tears welled slowly upinto his eyes, and, overflowing the lids, rolled one down either cheek.Then he rose quietly to his feet and, with possibly the only approach todignity which his actions had ever assumed, pointed to the boat andsaid--
"_I'm_ cap'n of this ship. You go fust." The mate needed no secondbidding. He sprang to the ship's side and stepped thence into the boat,taking his place at the tiller. Captain Turnbull, with his usualdeliberation, followed.
He was no sooner in the boat than the anxious crew shoved off, and,bending to their oars, rowed as rapidly as possible away from theirdangerous proximity to the sinking brig.
The short summer night was past, day had long since broken; and thoughthe gale still blew strongly, the clouds had dispersed, and away to theeastward the sky was ablaze with the opal and delicate rose tints whichimmediately precede the reappearance of the sun. A few minutes laterlong arrowy shafts of light shot upward into the clear blue sky, andthen a broad golden disc rose slowly above the wave-crests and tippedthem with liquid fire. The refulgent beams flashed upon the labouringhull and grimy canvas of the brig, as she lay wallowing in the trough ofthe sea a quarter of a mile away, transmuting her spars and rigging intobars and threads of purest gleaming gold, and changing her for themoment into an object of dream-like beauty. The men with one accordceased rowing to gaze upon their late home as she now glittered beforetheir eyes in such unfamiliar aspect; and, as they did so, her bows rosehigh into the air, dripping with liquid gold, then sank down againslowly--slowly--lower and lower still, until, with a long gracefulsliding movement, she plunged finally beneath the wave.
"There goes the old hooker to Davy Jones' locker, sparklin' like adi'mond--God bless her! Good-bye, old lass--good-bye!" shouted the men;and then, as she vanished from their sight, they gave three heartycheers to her memory.
At the same time Captain Turnbull rose in the stern-sheets of the boat,and facing round in the direction of the sinking brig, solemnly liftedfrom his head the old fur cap which crowned his somewhat scanty locks.He saw that her last moment was at hand, and his lips quiveredconvulsively for an instant; then in accents of powerful emotion heburst forth into the following oration:--
"`Then fare thee well, my old _Betty Jane_, Farewell for ever and a day; I'm bound down the river in an old steamboat, So pull and haul, oh! pull and haul away.'
"Good-bye, old ship! A handsomer craft, a purtier sea-boat, or asmarter wessel under canvas--whether upon a taut bowline or goin' free--never cleared out o' the port of London. For a matter of nigh uponforty year you've carried me, man and boy, back'ards and for'ards insafety and comfort over these here seas; and now, like a jade, you goesand founders, a desartin' of me in my old age. Arter a lifetime spentupon the heavin' buzzum of the stormy ocean--`where the winds do blow,do blow'--you're bound to-day to y'ur last moorin's in old Davy'slocker. Well, then, good-bye, _Betsy Jane_, my beauty; dear you are tome as the child of a man's age; may y'ur old timbers find a soft andeasy restin' place in their last berth? And if it warn't for the old'oman and the lasses ashore there, I'd as lief go down with thee as bewhere I am."
Then, as the brig disappeared, he replaced the fur cap upon his head,brushed his knotty hand impatiently across his eyes, flung his pipebitterly into the sea, and sadly resumed his seat. A minute afterwardshe looked intently skyward and exclaimed, "Give way, boys, and keep herdead afore it! _I'm_ cap'n of this boat."
The men, awe-stricken by the extraordinary display of deep feeling andquaint rugged eloquence which had just been wrung from their hithertophlegmatic and taciturn skipper, stretched to their oars in deadsilence, mechanically keeping the boat stern on to the sea, and soregulating her speed as to avoid the mischance of being pooped oroverrun by the pursuing surges.
About mid-day--by which time the gale had broken--they sighted aschooner bound for the Thames, the master of which received them andtheir traps on board. Four days afterwards they landed in London; andupon receiving their wages up to the day of the _Betsy Jane's_ loss,dispersed to their several homes.
The Pirate Island: A Story of the South Pacific Page 2
