CHAPTER XI--Of the Manner of my Homecoming
Bad weather dogged us during our homeward voyage. Crossing the Bay ofBiscay we were battened down for three days, and, save on one occasion,I did not go on deck the whole time the storm raged.
That occasion called for every available hand, for the securing bolts oftwo of our deck guns had broken adrift, and the huge ungainly weaponscharged to and fro across the ship, carrying destruction in theirpassage. After strenuous efforts the guns were secured, but at a costof four men washed overboard and five injured, either by the heavy seasthat came tumbling inboard, or else by the wild career of the derelictweapons. After the gale came a fog, so thick and continuous that fortwo days we could scarce see the end of our jibboom.
Captain Poynings, after deliberating with the master, came to theconclusion that land was not far off, but the weather did not allow ofthe use of either sextant or quadrant. The lead, then, was our onlyguide; so a man was stationed in the chains, and minute-guns were firedin the hope that we might hear an answering and reassuring sound.
With the first cast a depth of thirty fathoms was obtained, and shortlyafterwards the fog cleared, disclosing a bold headland on our larboardbow.
"Land! land!" was the cry, and amongst the men for'ard there was almosta wrangle, some affirming that the headland was the Start, others theLizard or "The Bill", while a few sanguine men expressed their beliefthat it was the coast of the Wight.
"Keep the lead going," shouted the master, as the fog again swept downupon us like a pall, shutting us out of the sight of the land we soeagerly desired.
With great regularity the lead gave a gradual shoaling till twenty-fourfathoms were announced.
Suddenly we were startled by the lookout shouting: "Breakers ahead!"
"'Bout ship!" ordered the master, and with a creaking of blocks and aslatting of sails the _Gannet_ stood off on the other tack.
We could hear the dull roar of rushing water, but how far the sound camewe could not determine..
"Keep her as she is, bos'n's mate," commanded the master. "Faith, as ifI did not know; this is none other than the Race of Portland!"
As night came on, the wind, hitherto steady, increased into a gale, andbefore midnight it blew a hurricane such as had not been known foryears; and to sheer off a dangerous coast we had to keep under stormcanvas, though had we had searoom the master would have had the ship tolay to.
An hour after midnight our mainsail, though treble-reefed, parted with areport that was heard above the storm, the torn canvas streaming out tolee'ard like so many whips; and simultaneously our bowsprit carried awayclose to the gammonings, with the result that the ship yawed, then shotup into the wind.
With a shuddering crash the foremast went by the board, and we werehelpless in the midst of the raging sea.
I kept close to Captain Poynings, who gave no sign of the presentimentthat the _Gannet's_ last hour had come.
Rapidly we drifted shorewards, where, in the inky blackness, a line ofphosphorescent light denoted the breaking of the boiling water upon anironbound coast.
The master came aft and shouted in the captain's ear. What he said Icould not tell, the noise of the elements deadening all other sound, butto his question the captain merely shook his head. Again the masterappealed, pointing to the now rapidly nearing cliffs. A deprecatoryshrug was the reply, and Captain Poynings, turning on his heel, walkedto the shelter of the poop.
The master made his way for'ard, and, turning out some of the seamen,bade them let go the anchor. With a rush and a roar the stout hempencable ran through the hawsepipe, the vessel snubbed, swung round, andthe next moment the cable parted as if made of pack thread.
Anticipating the worst, we all gripped the first object that came to ourhands and awaited the shock.
It was not long in coming. There was a crash that shook the ship fromstem to stern; her keel had struck a rock. Again she swung till herbows pointed inshore. Then came another crash, the main and mizzenmasts went over the side, and after one or two violent motions the_Gannet_ remained hard and fast, the heavy seas pouring right over her.
By this time the day had dawned, and we could see that the ship's bowswere close inshore, so that had our bowsprit and jibboom remained theywould have been touching the rocks, up which the broken water dashed ina terrific manner that made any attempt to swim ashore a matter of utterimpossibility.
The after part of the ship was now breaking up fast. Our gallantcaptain still remained on the quarterdeck, having buckled on his swordas if going into action. Grasping his speaking-trumpet he shouted hislast order: "Look to yourselves, men, and God have mercy on us all!"Then came a huge, tumbling, white-crested wave that swept the doomedvessel from the stern as far for'ard as the foremast.
When it had passed, not a sign was to be seen of the brave and ill-fatedcaptain, who, with a score of his men, had been swept against thepitiless rocks.
Clustered in blank despair on the fo'c'sle were all that remained of theonce smart crew of the _Gannet_. I remember seeing the lieutenant, thebos'n, Greville Drake, and about a score of the men, but, huddled on thelee side of the bulwarks, I remained, chilled to the bone and drenchedby the drifting spray, hardly conscious of my peril or the presence ofmy shipmates in distress.
Above the slight motion caused by the heavy seas striking the hull therecame a greater shock --the _Gannet_ had parted amidships.
The bos'n's voice was heard faintly above the roar of the elements, andlooking up I saw that, by the breaking of the ship, the forepart of the_Gannet_ was raised in consequence of the 'midship portion subsiding,and that her bows were nearly level with a flat, rocky ledge but twentyfeet away.
At the same time several men appeared on shore, looking at us intently,yet making no offer of assistance. We waved, making signs to them tothrow a rope, but, to our astonishment, our appeals were met with acallous indifference. "You miserable wretches!" yelled the bos'n,shaking his fist in the direction of the inhospitable men. "Would Icould get at you, ye cowardly landlubbers!"
Then a seaman close to me cried out: "Never a helping hand will we getfrom they, bos'n. I know where we be, for yon's the Tilly Whim Caves,and nought but smugglers and wreckers bide hereabouts."
Smugglers and wreckers! Instantly my mind harked back to the scene inthe court at Winton, when Master Joseph Hawkes gave testimony againstthe two rascally Dorset smugglers.
"Now, men, bestir yourselves," said the bos'n, turning towards us."Bear a hand with that spar, and with the help of Providence we'll saveour skins yet."
The prospect of safety lashed the worn-out crew to action. By theircombined efforts a fore-t'gallant spar was dragged to the spot where thebroken bowsprit formed a secure support. With a hoarse "Yo ho!" the sparwas thrust forward, and just as its weight was on the point ofoverbalancing the weight of the seamen on the inboard part, theextremity touched the edge of the rocks. With another effort it wasthrust securely on to the ledge, and the bos'n, with a line round hiswaist, crawled carefully ashore.
The rope served as a guideline to the rest, and without further mishapthe twenty-two survivors of the _Gannet_ made the perilous passage,though after three years' knocking about on the high seas it was a sorryhomecoming.
The inhuman spectators of our plight had vanished, and not a singlebeing was to be seen. In our wretched and half-starved condition we werenearly exhausted; in fact, many of the seamen dropped on the ground fromsheer want of strength.
The bos'n, who was the life and soul of the survivors, then picked outthe more active men to explore the locality. The old seaman who hadrecognized the coast said that two villages were within easydistance--Worth Matravers and Swanage--though a lofty barren line ofrugged hills separated us from both of them.
By this time I had recovered sufficiently to look around. We were on aflat ledge some fifty yards in length and about ten broad, thirty feetfrom the water, and close on a hundred from the top of the cliffs thattowered above us. Running back into the
cliff were two or three smallcaves, but there was nothing in them save a few broken barrels and acoil of rope. The ledge itself, though level, was encumbered bynumerous massive boulders that had at one time fallen from the beetlingcliffs, while to the left ran a path which undoubtedly led to the top ofthe dizzy heights above us.
All the while the spray dashed over us, while swiftly the irresistiblebreakers were grinding to pieces the wreck of the ill-fated _Gannet_.
But there was no time for mournful reveries on the untimely end of ournoble craft and her gallant captain, for already the exploring party hadreturned with the news that the cliff path had been found, and that avillage was not far distant.
The sorry remnant moved forward, those whose strength failed themsupported by the arms of their stronger companions.
The path was steep and rugged. After having been so long on board, andbeing weak in body through the hardships I had undergone, I felt wearyand ill before half the ascent was completed; so, while my shipmatesproceeded, I was obliged to sit down to recover my breath.
In a few moments I felt better; then, starting to my feet, I hurriedafter them, half running, half walking up the path.
I had not gone farther than twenty paces when my ankles turned under me,and I fell sideways, crashing into a thick bush.
Vainly endeavouring to save myself, I clutched at the bush, but theground all around seemed to be flying upwards. The daylight gave way topitch darkness, and I was falling, falling,...
Then I dimly remember striking on some hard substance, and with that Ilost consciousness.
A Lad of Grit: A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea in Restoration Times Page 11
