by Louis Tracy
THE WINGS OF THE MORNING
by
LOUIS TRACY
Author of _A Son of the Immortals_, _The Stowaways_, _The Message_,_The Wheel o' Fortune_, etc.
New York Grosset & Dunlap Publishers
1903.
_If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost partsof the sea; even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand shallhold me. Psalm CXXXIX, 9, 10_
INVOLUNTARILY SHE CAUGHT HIS ARM. HE STEPPED A HALF-PACEIN FRONT OF HER TO WARD OFF ANY DANGER THAT MIGHT BE HERALDED BY THISUNCANNY PHENOMENON. _Frontispiece_]
CONTENTS
I The Wreck of the _Sirdar_II The SurvivorsIII DiscoveriesIV Rainbow IslandV Iris to the RescueVI Some ExplanationsVII SurprisesVIII PreparationsIX The Secret of the CaveX Reality v. Romance--The Case for the PlaintiffXI The FightXII A TruceXIII Reality v. Romance--The Case for the DefendantXIV The Unexpected HappensXV The Difficulty of Pleasing EverybodyXVI Bargains, Great and SmallXVII Rainbow Island Again--and Afterward
CHAPTER I
THE WRECK OF THE _SIRDAR_
Lady Tozer adjusted her gold-rimmed eye-glasses with an air ofdignified aggressiveness. She had lived too many years in the Far East.In Hong Kong she was known as the "Mandarin." Her powers of mercilessinquisition suggested torments long drawn out. The commander of the_Sirdar_, homeward bound from Shanghai, knew that he was about tobe stretched on the rack when he took his seat at the saloon table.
"Is it true, captain, that we are running into a typhoon?" demanded herladyship.
"From whom did you learn that, Lady Tozer?" Captain Ross was wary,though somewhat surprised.
"From Miss Deane. I understood her a moment ago to say that you hadtold her."
"I?"
"Didn't you? Some one told me this morning. I couldn't have guessed it,could I?" Miss Iris Deane's large blue eyes surveyed him with innocentindifference to strict accuracy. Incidentally, she had obtained theinformation from her maid, a nose-tilted coquette who extracted ship'ssecrets from a youthful quartermaster.
"Well--er--I had forgotten," explained the tactful sailor.
"Is it true?"
Lady Tozer _was_ unusually abrupt today. But she was annoyed bythe assumption that the captain took a mere girl into his confidenceand passed over the wife of the ex-Chief Justice of Hong Kong.
"Yes, it is," said Captain Ross, equally curt, and silently thankingthe fates that her ladyship was going home for the last time.
"How horrible!" she gasped, in unaffected alarm. This return tofemininity soothed the sailor's ruffled temper.
Sir John, her husband, frowned judicially. That frown constituted hislegal stock-in-trade, yet it passed current for wisdom with the HongKong bar.
"What evidence have you?" he asked.
"Do tell us," chimed in Iris, delightfully unconscious of interruptingthe court. "Did you find out when you squinted at the sun?"
The captain smiled. "You are nearer the mark than possibly you imagine,Miss Deane," he said. "When we took our observations yesterday therewas a very weird-looking halo around the sun. This morning you may havenoticed several light squalls and a smooth sea marked occasionally bystrong ripples. The barometer is falling rapidly, and I expect that, asthe day wears, we will encounter a heavy swell. If the sky looks wildtonight, and especially if we observe a heavy bank of cloud approachingfrom the north-west, you see the crockery dancing about the table atdinner. I am afraid you are not a good sailor, Lady Tozer. Are you,Miss Deane?"
"Capital! I should just love to see a real storm. Now promise mesolemnly that you will take me up into the charthouse when this typhoonis simply tearing things to pieces."
"Oh dear! I do hope it will not be very bad. Is there no way in whichyou can avoid it, captain? Will it last long?"
The politic skipper for once preferred to answer Lady Tozer. "There isno cause for uneasiness," he said. "Of course, typhoons in the ChinaSea are nasty things while they last, but a ship like the _Sirdar_is not troubled by them. She will drive through the worst gale she islikely to meet here in less than twelve hours. Besides, I alter thecourse somewhat as soon as I discover our position with regard to itscenter. You see, Miss Deane--"
And Captain Ross forthwith illustrated on the back of a menu card thespiral shape and progress of a cyclone. He so thoroughly mystified thegirl by his technical references to northern and southern hemispheres,polar directions, revolving air-currents, external circumferences, anddiminished atmospheric pressures, that she was too bewildered toreiterate a desire to visit the bridge.
Then the commander hurriedly excused himself, and the passengers saw nomore of him that day.
But his short scientific lecture achieved a double result. It rescuedhim from a request which he could not possibly grant, and reassuredLady Tozer. To the non-nautical mind it is the unknown that is fearful.A storm classed as "periodic," whose velocity can be measured, whoseduration and direction can be determined beforehand by hours anddistances, ceases to be terrifying. It becomes an accepted fact, akinto the steam-engine and the electric telegraph, marvelous yetcommonplace.
So her ladyship dismissed the topic as of no present interest, andfocused Miss Deane through her eye-glasses.
"Sir Arthur proposes to come home in June, I understand?" she inquired.
Iris was a remarkably healthy young woman. A large banana momentarilyengaged her attention. She nodded affably.
"You will stay with relatives until he arrives?" pursued Lady Tozer.
The banana is a fruit of simple characteristics. The girl was able toreply, with a touch of careless hauteur in her voice:
"Relatives! We have none--none whom we specially cultivate, that is. Iwill stop in town a day or two to interview my dressmaker, and then gostraight to Helmdale, our place in Yorkshire."
"Surely you have a chaperon!"
"A chaperon! My dear Lady Tozer, did my father impress you as one whowould permit a fussy and stout old person to make my life miserable?"
The acidity of the retort lay in the word "stout." But Iris was notaccustomed to cross-examination. During a three months' residence onthe island she had learnt how to avoid Lady Tozer. Here it wasimpossible, and the older woman fastened upon her asp-like. Miss IrisDeane was a toothsome morsel for gossip. Not yet twenty-one, the onlydaughter of a wealthy baronet who owned a fleet of stately ships--the_Sirdar_ amongst them--a girl who had been mistress of herfather's house since her return from Dresden three years ago--young,beautiful, rich--here was a combination for which men thanked ajudicious Heaven, whilst women sniffed enviously.
Business detained Sir Arthur. A war-cloud over-shadowed the two greatdivisions of the yellow race. He must wait to see how mattersdeveloped, but he would not expose Iris to the insidious treachery of aChinese spring. So, with tears, they separated. She was confided to thepersonal charge of Captain Ross. At each point of call the company'sagents would be solicitous for her welfare. The cable's telegraphic eyewould watch her progress as that of some princely maiden sailing inroyal caravel. This fair, slender, well-formed girl--delightfullyEnglish in face and figure--with her fresh, clear complexion, limpidblue eyes, and shining brown hair, was a personage of some importance.
Lady Tozer knew these things and sighed complacently.
"Ah, well," she resumed. "Parents had different views when I was agirl. But I assume Sir Arthur thinks you should become used to beingyour own mistress in view of your approaching marriage."
"My--approaching--marriage!" cried Iris, now genuinely amazed.
"Yes. Is it not true that you are going to marry Lord Ventnor?"
A passing steward heard the point-blank question.
It had a curious effect upon him. He
gazed with fiercely eager eyes atMiss Deane, and so far forgot himself as to permit a dish of water iceto rest against Sir John Tozer's bald head.
Iris could not help noting his strange behavior. A flash of humorchased away her first angry resentment at Lady Tozer's interrogatory.
"That may be my happy fate," she answered gaily, "but Lord Ventnor hasnot asked me."
"Every one says in Hong Kong--" began her ladyship.
"Confound you, you stupid rascal! what are you doing?" shouted SirJohn. His feeble nerves at last conveyed the information that somethingmore pronounced than a sudden draught affected his scalp; the ice wasmelting.
The incident amused those passengers who sat near enough to observe it.But the chief steward, hovering watchful near the captain's table,darted forward. Pale with anger he hissed--
"Report yourself for duty in the second saloon tonight," and he hustledhis subordinate away from the judge's chair.
Miss Deane, mirthfully radiant, rose.
"Please don't punish the man, Mr. Jones," she said sweetly. "It was asheer accident. He was taken by surprise. In his place I would haveemptied the whole dish."
The chief steward smirked. He did not know exactly what had happened;nevertheless, great though Sir John Tozer might be, the owner'sdaughter was greater.
"Certainly, miss, certainly," he agreed, adding confidentially:--"It_is_ rather hard on a steward to be sent aft, miss. It makes sucha difference in the--er--the little gratuities given by thepassengers."
The girl was tactful. She smiled comprehension at the official and bentover Sir John, now carefully polishing the back of his skull with atable napkin.
"I am sure you will forgive him," she whispered. "I can't say why, butthe poor fellow was looking so intently at me that he did not see whathe was doing."
The ex-Chief Justice was instantly mollified. He did not mind theapplication of ice in that way--rather liked it, in fact--probably icewas susceptible to the fire in Miss Deane's eyes.
Lady Tozer was not so easily appeased. When Iris left the saloon sheinquired tartly: "How is it, John, that Government makes a shipowner abaronet and a Chief Justice only a knight?"
"That question would provide an interesting subject for debate at theCarlton, my dear," he replied with equal asperity.
Suddenly the passengers still seated experienced a prolonged sinkingsensation, as if the vessel had been converted into a gigantic lift.They were pressed hard into their chairs, which creaked and tried toswing round on their pivots. As the ship yielded stiffly to the sea awhiff of spray dashed through an open port.
"There," snapped her ladyship, "I knew we should run into a storm, yetCaptain Ross led us to believe---- John, take me to my cabin at once."
From the promenade deck the listless groups watched the rapid advanceof the gale. There was mournful speculation upon the _Sirdar's_chances of reaching Singapore before the next evening.
"We had two hundred and ninety-eight miles to do at noon," saidExperience. "If the wind and sea catch us on the port bow the ship willpitch awfully. Half the time the screw will be racing. I once made thistrip in the _Sumatra_, and we were struck by a south-east typhoonin this locality. How long do you think it was before we dropped anchorin Singapore harbor?"
No one hazarded a guess.
"Three days!" Experience was solemnly pompous. "Three whole days. Theywere like three years. By Jove! I never want to see another gale likethat."
A timid lady ventured to say--
"Perhaps this may not be a typhoon. It may only be a little bit ofa storm."
Her sex saved her from a jeer. Experience gloomily shook his head.
"The barometer resists your plea," he said. "I fear there will be agood many empty saddles in the saloon at dinner."
The lady smiled weakly. It was a feeble joke at the best. "You think weare in for a sort of marine steeple-chase?" she asked.
"Well, thank Heaven, I had a good lunch," sniggered a rosy-facedsubaltern, and a ripple of laughter greeted his enthusiasm.
Iris stood somewhat apart from the speakers. The wind had freshened andher hat was tied closely over her ears. She leaned against thetaffrail, enjoying the cool breeze after hours of sultry heat. The skywas cloudless yet, but there was a queer tinge of burnished copper inthe all-pervading sunshine. The sea was coldly blue. The life had goneout of it. It was no longer inviting and translucent. That morning,were such a thing practicable, she would have gladly dived into itscrystal depths and disported herself like a frolicsome mermaid. Nowsomething akin to repulsion came with the fanciful remembrance.
Long sullen undulations swept noiselessly past the ship. Once, after asteady climb up a rolling hill of water, the _Sirdar_ quicklypecked at the succeeding valley, and the propeller gave a couple ofangry flaps on the surface, whilst a tremor ran through the stout ironrails on which the girl's arms rested.
The crew were busy too. Squads of Lascars raced about, industriouslyobedient to the short shrill whistling of jemadars and quartermasters.Boat lashings were tested and tightened, canvas awnings stretchedacross the deck forward, ventilator cowls twisted to new angles, andhatches clamped down over the wooden gratings that covered the holds.Officers, spotless in white linen, flitted quietly to and fro. When thewatch was changed. Iris noted that the "chief" appeared in an old bluesuit and carried oilskins over his arm as he climbed to the bridge.
Nature looked disturbed and fitful, and the ship responded to her mood.There was a sense of preparation in the air, of coming ordeal, ofrestless foreboding. Chains clanked with a noise the girl never noticedbefore; the tramp of hurrying men on the hurricane deck overheadsounded heavy and hollow. There was a squeaking of chairs that wasabominable when people gathered up books and wraps and staggeredungracefully towards the companion-way. Altogether Miss Deane was notwholly pleased with the preliminaries of a typhoon, whatever therealities might be.
And then, why did gales always spring up at the close of day? Couldthey not start after breakfast, rage with furious grandeur duringlunch, and die away peacefully at dinner-time, permitting one to sleepin comfort without that straining and groaning of the ship which seemedto imply a sharp attack of rheumatism in every joint?
Why did that silly old woman allude to her contemplated marriage toLord Ventnor, retailing the gossip of Hong Kong with such maliciousemphasis? For an instant Iris tried to shake the railing in comicanger. She hated Lord Ventnor. She did not want to marry him, oranybody else, just yet. Of course her father had hinted approval of hislordship's obvious intentions. Countess of Ventnor! Yes, it was a nicetitle. Still, she wanted another couple of years of careless freedom;in any event, why should Lady Tozer pry and probe?
And finally, why did the steward--oh, poor old Sir John! What_would_ have happened if the ice had slid down his neck?Thoroughly comforted by this gleeful hypothesis, Miss Deane seized afavorable opportunity to dart across to the starboard side and see ifCaptain Ross's "heavy bank of cloud in the north-west" had put in anappearance.
Ha! there it was, black, ominous, gigantic, rolling up over the horizonlike some monstrous football. Around it the sky deepened into purple,fringed with a wide belt of brick red. She had never seen such abeginning of a gale. From what she had read in books she imagined thatonly in great deserts were clouds of dust generated. There could not bedust in the dense pall now rushing with giant strides across thetrembling sea. Then what was it? Why was it so dark and menacing? Andwhere was desert of stone and sand to compare with this awful expanseof water? What a small dot was this great ship on the visible surface!But the ocean itself extended away beyond there, reaching out to theinfinite. The dot became a mere speck, undistinguishable beneath acelestial microscope such as the gods might condescend to use.
Iris shivered and aroused herself with a startled laugh.
A nice book in a sheltered corner, and perhaps forty winks untiltea-time--surely a much more sensible proceeding than to stand there,idly conjuring up phantoms of affright.
The lively fanfare of the d
inner trumpet failed to fill the saloon. Bythis time the _Sirdar_ was fighting resolutely against a stiffgale. But the stress of actual combat was better than the eeriesensation of impending danger during the earlier hours. The strong,hearty pulsations of the engines, the regular thrashing of the screw,the steadfast onward plunging of the good ship through racing seas andflying scud, were cheery, confident, and inspiring.
Miss Deane justified her boast that she was an excellent sailor. Shesmiled delightedly at the ship's surgeon when he caught her eye throughthe many gaps in the tables. She was alone, so he joined her.
"You are a credit to the company--quite a sea-king's daughter," hesaid.
"Doctor, do you talk to all your lady passengers in that way?"
"Alas, no! Too often I can only be truthful when I am dumb."
Iris laughed. "If I remain long on this ship I will certainly have myhead turned," she cried. "I receive nothing but compliments from thecaptain down to--to----
"The doctor!"
"No. You come a good second on the list."
In very truth she was thinking of the ice-carrying steward and hisqueer start of surprise at the announcement of her rumored engagement.The man interested her. He looked like a broken-down gentleman. Herquick eyes traveled around the saloon to discover his whereabouts. Shecould not see him. The chief steward stood near, balancing himself inapparent defiance of the laws of gravitation, for the ship was nowpitching and rolling with a mad zeal. For an instant she meant toinquire what had become of the transgressor, but she dismissed thethought at its inception. The matter was too trivial.
With a wild swoop all the plates, glasses, and cutlery on the saloontables crashed to starboard. Were it not for the restraint of thefiddles everything must have been swept to the floor. There were one ortwo minor accidents. A steward, taken unawares, was thrown headlong ontop of his laden tray. Others were compelled to clutch the backs ofchairs and cling to pillars. One man involuntarily seized the hair of alady who devoted an hour before each meal to her coiffure. The_Sirdar_, with a frenzied bound, tried to turn a somersault.
"A change of course," observed the doctor. "They generally try to avoidit when people are in the saloon, but a typhoon admits of no laboredpoliteness. As its center is now right ahead we are going on thestarboard tack to get behind it."
"I must hurry up and go on deck," said Miss Deane.
"You will not be able to go on deck until the morning."
She turned on him impetuously. "Indeed I will. Captain Ross promisedme--that is, I asked him----"
The doctor smiled. She was so charmingly insistent. "It is simplyimpossible," he said. "The companion doors are bolted. The promenadedeck is swept by heavy seas every minute. A boat has been carried awayand several stanchions snapped off like carrots. For the first time inyour life, Miss Deane, you are battened down."
The girl's face must have paled somewhat. He added hastily, "There isno danger, you know, but these precautions are necessary. You would notlike to see several tons of water rushing down the saloon stairs; now,would you?"
"Decidedly not." Then after a pause, "It is not pleasant to be fastenedup in a great iron box, doctor. It reminds one of a huge coffin."
"Not a bit. The _Sirdar_ is the safest ship afloat. Your fatherhas always pursued a splendid policy in that respect. The London andHong Kong Company may not possess fast vessels, but they are seaworthyand well found in every respect."
"Are there many people ill on board?"
"No; just the usual number of disturbed livers. We had a nasty accidentshortly before dinner."
"Good gracious! What happened?"
"Some Lascars were caught by a sea forward. One man had his legbroken."
"Anything else?"
The doctor hesitated. He became interested in the color of someBurgundy. "I hardly know the exact details yet," he replied. "Tomorrowafter breakfast I will tell you all about it."
An English quartermaster and four Lascars had been licked from off theforecastle by the greedy tongue of a huge wave. The succeeding surgeflung the five men back against the quarter. One of the black sailorswas pitched aboard, with a fractured leg and other injuries. The otherswere smashed against the iron hull and disappeared.
For one tremulous moment the engines slowed. The ship commenced to veeroff into the path of the cyclone. Captain Ross set his teeth, and thetelegraph bell jangled "Full speed ahead."
"Poor Jackson!" he murmured. "One of my best men. I remember seeing hiswife, a pretty little woman, and two children coming to meet him lasthomeward trip. They will be there again. Good God! That Lascar who wassaved has some one to await him in a Bombay village, I suppose."
The gale sang a mad requiem to its victims. The very surface was tornfrom the sea. The ship drove relentlessly through sheets of spray thatcaused the officers high up on the bridge to gasp for breath. They heldon by main force, though protected by strong canvas sheets bound to therails. The main deck was quite impassable. The promenade deck, even thelofty spar deck, was scourged with the broken crests of waves thattried with demoniac energy to smash in the starboard bow, for the_Sirdar_ was cutting into the heart of the cyclone.
The captain fought his way to the charthouse. He wiped the salt waterfrom his eyes and looked anxiously at the barometer.
"Still falling!" he muttered. "I will keep on until seven o'clock andthen bear three points to the southward. By midnight we should bebehind it."
He struggled back into the outside fury. By comparison the sturdycitadel he quitted was Paradise on the edge of an inferno.
Down in the saloon the hardier passengers were striving to subdue theennui of an interval before they sought their cabins. Some talked. Onehardened reprobate strummed the piano. Others played cards, chess,draughts, anything that would distract attention.
The stately apartment offered strange contrast to the warring elementswithout. Bright lights, costly upholstery, soft carpets, carved panelsand gilded cornices, with uniformed attendants passing to and frocarrying coffee and glasses--these surroundings suggested a floatingpalace in which the raging seas were defied. Yet forty miles away,somewhere in the furious depths, four corpses swirled about withhorrible uncertainty, lurching through battling currents, and perchanceconvoyed by fighting sharks.
The surgeon had been called away. Iris was the only lady left in thesaloon. She watched a set of whist players for a time and then essayedthe perilous passage to her stateroom. She found her maid and astewardess there. Both women were weeping.
"What is the matter?" she inquired.
The stewardess tried to speak. She choked with grief and hastily wentout. The maid blubbered an explanation.
"A friend of hers was married, miss, to the man who is drowned."
"Drowned! What man?"
"Haven't you heard, miss? I suppose they are keeping it quiet. AnEnglish sailor and some natives were swept off the ship by a sea. Onenative was saved, but he is all smashed up. The others were never seenagain."
Iris by degrees learnt the sad chronicles of the Jackson family. Shewas moved to tears. She remembered the doctor's hesitancy, and her ownidle phrase--"a huge coffin."
Outside the roaring waves pounded upon the iron walls.
Were they not satiated? This tragedy had taken all the grandeur out ofthe storm. It was no longer a majestic phase of nature's power, but animplacable demon, bellowing for a sacrifice. And that poor woman, withher two children, hopefully scanning the shipping lists for news of thegreat steamer, news which, to her, meant only the safety of herhusband. Oh, it was pitiful!
Iris would not be undressed. The maid sniveled a request to be allowedto remain with her mistress. She would lie on a couch until morning.
Two staterooms had been converted into one to provide Miss Deane withample accommodation. There were no bunks, but a cozy bed was screwed tothe deck. She lay down, and strove to read. It was a difficult task.Her eyes wandered from the printed page to mark the absurd antics ofher garments swinging on their hooks. At times the shi
p rolled so farthat she felt sure it must topple over. She was not afraid; butsubdued, rather astonished, placidly prepared for vague eventualities.Through it all she wondered why she clung to the belief that in anotherday or two the storm would be forgotten, and people playing quoits ondeck, dancing, singing coon songs in the music-room, or grumbling atthe heat.
Things were ridiculous. What need was there for all this external fury?Why should poor sailors be cast forth to instant death in such awfulmanner? If she could only sleep and forget--if kind oblivion would blotout the storm for a few blissful hours! But how could one sleep withthe consciousness of that watery giant thundering his summons upon theiron plates a few inches away?
Then came the blurred picture of Captain Ross high up on the bridge,peering into the moving blackness. How strange that there should behidden in the convolutions of a man's brain an intelligence that laidbare the pretences of that ravenous demon without. Each of the ship'sofficers, the commander more than the others, understood the why andthe wherefore of this blustering combination of wind and sea. Iris knewthe language of poker. Nature was putting up a huge bluff.
What was it the captain said in his little lecture? "When a ship meetsa cyclone north of the equator on a westerly course she nearly alwayshas the wind at first on the port side, but, owing to the revolution ofthe gale, when she passes its center the wind is on the starboardside."
Yes, that was right, as far as the first part was concerned. Evidentlythey had not yet passed the central path. Oh, dear! She was so tired.It demanded a physical effort to constantly shove away an unseen forcethat tried to push you over. How funny that a big cloud should travelup against the wind! And so, amidst confused wonderment, she lapsedinto an uneasy slumber, her last sentient thought being a quietthankfulness that the screw went thud-thud, thud-thud with such firmdetermination.
After the course was changed and the _Sirdar_ bore away towardsthe south-west, the commander consulted the barometer each half-hour.The tell-tale mercury had sunk over two inches in twelve hours. Theabnormally low pressure quickly created dense clouds which enhanced themelancholy darkness of the gale.
For many minutes together the bows of the ship were not visible.Masthead and sidelights were obscured by the pelting scud. The enginesthrust the vessel forward like a lance into the vitals of the storm.Wind and wave gushed out of the vortex with impotent fury.
At last, soon after midnight, the barometer showed a slight upwardmovement. At 1.30 a.m. the change became pronounced; simultaneously thewind swung round a point to the westward.
Then Captain Ross smiled wearily. His face brightened. He opened hisoilskin coat, glanced at the compass, and nodded approval.
"That's right," he shouted to the quartermaster at the steam-wheel."Keep her steady there, south 15 west."
"South 15 west it is, sir," yelled the sailor, impassively watching themoving disk, for the wind alteration necessitated a little less helpfrom the rudder to keep the ship's head true to her course.
Captain Ross ate some sandwiches and washed them down with cold tea. Hewas more hungry than he imagined, having spent eleven hours withoutfood. The tea was insipid. He called through a speaking-tube for afurther supply of sandwiches and some coffee.
Then he turned to consult a chart. He was joined by the chief officer.Both men examined the chart in silence.
Captain Ross finally took a pencil. He stabbed its point on the paperin the neighborhood of 14 deg. N. and 112 deg. E.
"We are about there, I think."
The chief agreed. "That was the locality I had in my mind." He bentcloser over the sheet.
"Nothing in the way tonight, sir," he added.
"Nothing whatever. It is a bit of good luck to meet such weather here.We can keep as far south as we like until daybreak, and by thattime--How did it look when you came in?"
"A trifle better, I think."
"I have sent for some refreshments. Let us have another_dekko_[Footnote: Hindustani for "look"--word much used by sailorsin the East.] before we tackle them."
The two officers passed out into the hurricane. Instantly the windendeavored to tear the charthouse from off the deck. They looked aloftand ahead. The officer on duty saw them and nodded silentcomprehension. It was useless to attempt to speak. The weather wasperceptibly clearer.
Then all three peered ahead again. They stood, pressing against thewind, seeking to penetrate the murkiness in front. Suddenly they weregalvanized into strenuous activity.
A wild howl came from the lookout forward. The eyes of the three menglared at a huge dismasted Chinese junk, wallowing helplessly in thetrough of the sea, dead under the bows.
The captain sprang to the charthouse and signaled in fierce pantomimethat the wheel should be put hard over.
The officer in charge of the bridge pressed the telegraph lever to"stop" and "full speed astern," whilst with his disengaged hand hepulled hard at the siren cord, and a raucous warning sent stewardsflying through the ship to close collision bulkhead doors. The "chief"darted to the port rail, for the _Sirdar's_ instant response tothe helm seemed to clear her nose from the junk as if by magic.
It all happened so quickly that whilst the hoarse signal was stillvibrating through the ship, the junk swept past her quarter. The chiefofficer, joined now by the commander, looked down into the wretchedcraft. They could see her crew lashed in a bunch around the capstan onher elevated poop. She was laden with timber. Although water-logged,she could not sink if she held together.
A great wave sucked her away from the steamer and then hurled her backwith irresistible force. The _Sirdar_ was just completing herturning movement, and she heeled over, yielding to the mighty power ofthe gale. For an appreciable instant her engines stopped. The mass ofwater that swayed the junk like a cork lifted the great ship high bythe stern. The propeller began to revolve in air--for the third officerhad corrected his signal to "full speed ahead" again--and the cumbrousChinese vessel struck the _Sirdar_ a terrible blow in the counter,smashing off the screw close to the thrust-block and wrenching therudder from its bearings.
There was an awful race by the engines before the engineers could shutoff steam. The junk vanished into the wilderness of noise and tumblingseas beyond, and the fine steamer of a few seconds ago, replete withmagnificent energy, struggled like a wounded leviathan in the grasp ofa vengeful foe.
She swung round, as if in wrath, to pursue the puny assailant which haddealt her this mortal stroke. No longer breasting the storm withstubborn persistency, she now drifted aimlessly before wind and wave.She was merely a larger plaything, tossed about by Titantic gambols.The junk was burst asunder by the collision. Her planks and cargolittered the waves, were even tossed in derision on to the decks of the_Sirdar_. Of what avail was strong timber or bolted iron againstthe spleen of the unchained and formless monster who loudly proclaimedhis triumph? The great steamship drifted on through chaos. The typhoonhad broken the lance.
But brave men, skilfully directed, wrought hard to avert furtherdisaster. After the first moment of stupor, gallant British sailorsrisked life and limb to bring the vessel under control.
By their calm courage they shamed the paralyzed Lascars into activity.A sail was rigged on the foremast, and a sea anchor hastily constructedas soon as it was discovered that the helm was useless. Rockets flaredup into the sky at regular intervals, in the faint hope that shouldthey attract the attention of another vessel she would follow thedisabled _Sirdar_ and render help when the weather moderated.
When the captain ascertained that no water was being shipped, thedamage being wholly external, the collision doors were opened and thepassengers admitted to the saloon, a brilliant palace, superblyindifferent to the wreck and ruin without.
Captain Ross himself came down and addressed a few comforting words tothe quiet men and pallid women gathered there. He told them exactlywhat had happened.
Sir John Tozer, self-possessed and critical, asked a question.
"The junk is destroyed, I assume?" he said.
/> "It is."
"Would it not have been better to have struck her end on?"
"Much better, but that is not the view we should take if we encountereda vessel relatively as big as the _Sirdar_ was to the unfortunatejunk."
"But," persisted the lawyer, "what would have been the result?"
"You would never have known that the incident had happened, Sir John."
"In other words, the poor despairing Chinamen, clinging to their littlecraft with some chance of escape, would be quietly murdered to suit ourconvenience."
It was Iris's clear voice that rang out this downright exposition ofthe facts. Sir John shook his head; he carried the discussion nofurther.
The hours passed in tedious misery after Captain Ross's visit. Everyone was eager to get a glimpse of the unknown terrors without from thedeck. This was out of the question, so people sat around the tables tolisten eagerly to Experience and his wise saws on drifting ships andtheir prospects.
Some cautious persons visited their cabins to secure valuables in caseof further disaster. A few hardy spirits returned to bed.
Meanwhile, in the charthouse, the captain and chief officer weregravely pondering over an open chart, and discussing a fresh risk thatloomed ominously before them. The ship was a long way out of her usualcourse when the accident happened. She was drifting now, theyestimated, eleven knots an hour, with wind, sea, and current allforcing her in the same direction, drifting into one of the mostdangerous places in the known world, the south China Sea, with itsnumberless reefs, shoals, and isolated rocks, and the great island ofBorneo stretching right across the path of the cyclone.
Still, there was nothing to be done save to make a few unobtrusivepreparations and trust to idle chance. To attempt to anchor and rideout the gale in their present position was out of the question.
Two, three, four o'clock came, and went. Another half-hour wouldwitness the dawn and a further clearing of the weather. The barometerwas rapidly rising. The center of the cyclone had swept far ahead.There was only left the aftermath of heavy seas and furious butsteadier wind.
Captain Ross entered the charthouse for the twentieth time.
He had aged many years in appearance. The smiling, confident, debonairofficer was changed into a stricken, mournful man. He had altered withhis ship. The _Sirdar_ and her master could hardly be recognized,so cruel were the blows they had received.
"It is impossible to see a yard ahead," he confided to his second incommand. "I have never been so anxious before in my life. Thank God thenight is drawing to a close. Perhaps, when day breaks----"
His last words contained a prayer and a hope. Even as he spoke the shipseemed to lift herself bodily with an unusual effort for a vesselmoving before the wind.
The next instant there was a horrible grinding crash forward. Eachperson who did not chance to be holding fast to an upright was thrownviolently down. The deck was tilted to a dangerous angle and remainedthere, whilst the heavy buffeting of the sea, now raging afresh at thisunlooked-for resistance, drowned the despairing yells raised by theLascars on duty.
The _Sirdar_ had completed her last voyage. She was now a batteredwreck on a barrier reef. She hung thus for one heart-breaking second.Then another wave, riding triumphantly through its fellows, caught thegreat steamer in its tremendous grasp, carried her onward for half herlength and smashed her down on the rocks. Her back was broken. Sheparted in two halves. Both sections turned completely over in the utterwantonness of destruction, and everything--masts, funnels, boats, hull,with every living soul on board--was at once engulfed in a maelstrom ofrushing water and far-flung spray.
