CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
THE YANKEE SKIPPER.
"And how on earth did you escape?" asked Fritz, when he and Eric hadsomewhat recovered from their first surprise and emotion at meetingagain in so unexpected a manner.
"Well, it's a long story to tell, brother," replied Eric, as soon as hecould speak calmly, putting his arm through that of Fritz and drawinghim towards a sort of long sofa, like a divan, which stretched acrossone side of the wide apartment where they had so strangely encountered--the other and opposite side of the room being occupied by the usual longhotel "bar," common in most American towns, in front of which variouslittle detached groups of people were standing up, drinking and chattingtogether. "Suppose we come to an anchor here awhile, and I'll reel youoff a yarn about all that has happened to me since I left Lubeck."
"All right, we may as well sit down, at all events," said Fritz. "Theywon't charge us for that, eh?"
"Oh no, I guess not," answered Eric, with that old light-hearted laughof his, which his brother had never thought he should ever hear again."This is a free country, they say, you know!"
"Now tell me all about yourself," said Fritz, when they had ensconcedthemselves comfortably in the furthest corner of the divan, or settee,which they had pretty much to themselves. "I'm dying to know how youwere saved!"
"Right you are, my hearty," replied Eric, in sailor fashion. "Here goesfor the log of my cruise in the poor old _Gustav Barentz_!"
"Fire away!" said Fritz; and then, the lad thereupon began his story.
The ship, Eric declared, was found to be terribly leaky almost as soonas they had started on the voyage, and this necessitated their having toput into Plymouth for repairs, which detained them a considerable time.Indeed, it was as much as they could do to patch her up at all; for, hertimbers were so rotten and the vessel had been strained so much fromoverloading that she was really unfit to be sent to sea. However, asFritz already knew, the _Gustav Barentz_ managed to clear out of theChannel, reaching the latitude of the Cape de Verde Islands all right,and it was shortly after passing Teneriffe that Eric had been enabled toforward that letter of his which had so gladdened his mother's heart, toLubeck by a homeward-bound ship. After that, however, all went wrongwith the ill-fated vessel. She had knocked about in the doldrums forweeks; and, after making a long leg over to the South American coast,had succeeded at last in getting round the Cape of Good Hope safely--although taking a terrible time over it, and dragging out a most tediouspassage from Plymouth--when she met a south-east gale, just as she hadentered the Indian Ocean and was shaping a course towards the Straits ofSunda, so as to fetch Java.
Leaky and strained and overladen as the ship was, she was in nocondition to fight the elements on fair terms; so the result of it was,that, after being buffetted by the gale for some four days and then,finally, pooped by a heavy following sea as she tried to run before thewind, it was discovered that she was making water too fast for the pumpsto be of any avail. Consequently, as nothing further could be done, itwas determined to abandon her. Accordingly, the jolly-boat and pinnacewere provisioned and launched over the side, the crew being dividedbetween the two, under the direction of the captain and chief officer;and they had hardly time to get into these frail craft, to encounteronce again on worse terms the perils of the ocean that had alreadyproved too strong for their vessel, and push off from her side, whenthey saw the old _Gustav Barentz_ go down before their eyes--founderingalmost without a moment's warning.
"It was terrible for you all to be left tossing about on the raging seain a couple of open boats!" said Fritz sympathisingly, pressing hisbrother's arm,--"worse than being in a leaky ship, I should think."
"Yes," answered Eric; "but we kept up our courage well, the captainsustaining us with brave words, saying that, as we were not many milessouth of Cape Arguilhas and had the wind blowing right on to the land,we must soon reach shore. But, I don't know, I'm sure, how he came toplace the ship where he did; for, according to my reckoning, we wereseveral degrees, at the least, to the eastward of the Cape. However, Isuppose he said what he did to prevent our giving way to despair, which,perhaps, we might otherwise have done, eh?"
"Most probably," said Fritz, agreeing with his brother. "It would bevery unlikely for the captain to make so great an error in hiscalculations as that. He was esteemed a good navigator, you know, byHerr Grosschnapper."
"Well, anyway," continued Eric, without waiting to argue this point withhis brother, "we did not reach land that day, which some of the menexpected from his words; nor did we the next morning, although, thenmuch to our sorrow, we could see the pinnace no longer near us, shehaving parted company in the night time and gone to the bottom, as wethought."
"You were wrong," interrupted Fritz; "the boat was picked up by anAustralian ship, the survivors being taken on to Melbourne. It wasthrough these that we heard later on of the loss of the _GustavBarentz_; and naturally, as you had not been rescued at the same time,we all gave you and the captain's party up."
"Oh, indeed!" said Eric. "I'm right glad to hear that! Why, we thoughtthat they were the lost ones, not us, lamenting them much accordingly!That Groots, the first mate, was a capital chap, as fine an officer asever stepped aboard a ship; so I'm pleased to know he's safe. But, togo on with my yarn, there we found ourselves alone in the morning on thewild waste of waters, dancing about in an angry sea that threatenedevery moment to overwhelm us, and with the gale increasing instead ofhaving blown itself out, as we hoped. We didn't feel very comfortable,I can tell you, Fritz."
"I should think not," responded his brother.
"No; for it was as much as we could do to prevent the boat from fillingevery moment, the waves were breaking over her so continually. It onlyescaped sinking by constantly baling her out with our boots and keepingher head to the wind with a floating anchor, which we rigged togetherout of all the spare oars and spars we had aboard, veering the littlecraft to leeward of this by the painter. All that day, too, the galekept up; and the sea, you may be sure, did not calm down, rollingmountains high, as it seemed to us just down to its level in the jolly-boat! So it was the next night, there not being the slightest lull, wehaving to ride it out all the while; but, on the third morning, the galemoderated sufficiently for us to be able to scud before it in thedirection of the Cape. It was lucky for us that the wind, by the way,did not shift once while we were lying-to, blowing steadily from thesame quarter it began in, from the south-east. If it had changed atall, especially during the night at any time, it would have been all upwith us!"
"Yes?" said Fritz interrogatively.
"Why, of course it would, for it was as dark as pitch, so that you couldnot see your hand before your face; and if the wind had chopped round,bringing us athwart the heavy rolling sea that was running, we shouldhave been swamped in a moment, without the chance of saving ourselves byturning the boat's head so as to meet the waves; do you see now?"
"I see," said Fritz, with a shudder. "It was bad enough to confrontyour peril in daylight, but it would have been awful to have beenengulfed in the darkness!"
"That was what was in our minds," proceeded Eric; "at least, I cananswer for my own thoughts. However, on the morning of the third day,as I've told you, the wind slackening down somewhat, although stillblowing steadily from the south-east, we hauled up to our floatinganchor, which we quickly proceeded to take to pieces, hauling on boardagain the oars and old boat-stretchers that had composed it, and whichhad served the purpose of fending off somewhat the rollers, thesebreaking over the spars, under whose lee we had comparatively stillwater. We then, with a great deal of difficulty, as it was a dangerousoperation on account of getting broadside on to the waves, managed toslew the jolly-boat's head round; when, rigging up a scrap of a sprit-sail amidships, so as not to bury the little craft's nose, which mighthave been the case if we had tried to step our proper mast more forward,with the captain steering with an oar out to windward to give himgreater command of her than the rudder would have done
, we scudded awaytowards the African coast, giving up the pinnace as lost, and lookingout only for ourselves."
"You had plenty to do," said Fritz, "without thinking of any one else."
"Yes," replied Eric; "but still, we could not forget them so easily asall that. Shore folk think sailors are heartless, and that when a poorchap is lost overboard, they only say that `So-and-so has lost thenumber of his mess!' and, after having an auction over his kit in thefo'c's'le, then dismiss him from their memory! But, I assure you, thisis not always the case. You see, a ship is a sort of little world, andthose on board are so closely bound together--getting to know each otherso thoroughly from not having any others to associate with--that whenone is taken away from amongst them, particularly by a violent death,his absence, cannot but be felt. A sailor often misses even a messmatewhom he may dislike. How much the more, therefore, did we feel the lossof the whole boat's crew of the pinnace, every man of whom was almost asmuch a brother to me as you!"
"I beg your pardon if I spoke thoughtlessly," said Fritz; "but I shouldhave imagined that being in such imminent danger, you would not have hadmuch time to mourn your lost comrades."
"Nor did we," continued Eric, "so long as we had something to do, eitherin helping to bale the boat out or keeping her head to wind; but, whenwe began to run before the gale, the men stretched out in the bottom andalong the stern-sheets, doing nothing,--for there was nothing for us todo,--we began to think of the poor fellows. This was only for a shorttime, however, as presently we had a more serious consideration on ourminds than even the fate of the others. During all the strain on us,when we were in such danger, none of us had thought of eating ordrinking; and, consequently, we had not examined the provisions--puthastily on board as we were leaving the sinking ship. But, now, feelingalmost famished, on proceeding to overhaul the lockers, we found to ourdismay that the sea water had spoilt everything, our biscuit being pasteand the other food rendered unfit for use."
"What a calamity!" exclaimed Fritz.
"Yes," said Eric, "it was. Fortunately, we had some water, although ourtwo barricoes did not contain an over-abundant supply for seven men asthere were of us in the jolly-boat all told, including me. The captain,too, had stowed away a bottle of rum in the pocket of his pea jacket;and this being served out all round in a little tin pannikin we had,diluted to the strength of about four-water grog, it strengthened us allup a bit, bracing up our energies for what lay before us."
"What did you do?" asked Fritz.
"Why, what could we do, save let the boat go where the wind chose totake us, and trust in providence!" said Eric, seemingly surprised at thequestion.
"Ah, we had an awful time of it," he resumed presently. "When you cometo being five days in an open boat, with nothing to eat and only a smallquantity of water to assuage your burning thirst with at statedintervals, exposed all the time, too, to rough seas breaking over you--encrusting your hair and skin and everything with salt that blisteredyou when the sun came out afterwards, as it did, roasting us almost assoon as the gale lessened--why it was a painful ordeal, that's all! Therum did not last out long; and soon after the final drop of this wasserved out, the captain succumbed to weakness, having been dying byinches, and the stimulant only sustaining him so long. We kept him acouple of days, and then flung the body overboard, along with those oftwo other men who had died in the meantime from exposure and want offood; thus, only three others were now left in the jolly-boat besidesme."
"And then?" interrupted Fritz anxiously.
"I don't know what happened afterwards," said Eric. "I got delirious, Isuppose, for I remember fancying myself at home again in Lubeck, withLorischen bending over me and offering me all sorts of nice things toeat! Really, I do not recollect anything further as to what occurred inthe boat."
"How were you saved, then?" asked Fritz.
"It was that good Captain Brown there, talking to the gentleman whom youcame in here with," replied Eric, pointing out the broad-shouldered,jolly-looking, seafaring man whom Fritz's friend, the deck hand of thesteamer, had accosted and was now conversing with, close to where thetwo brothers were seated on the divan.
"Oh, he rescued you!" said Fritz, looking at the seafaring man with someinterest. "I should like to thank him."
"Yes; he's a good fellow," Eric went on. "The first thing I saw when inmy right senses again, I think, after we had heaved the bodies of ourdead shipmates overboard the boat, was Captain Brown bending over me. Imust have confused his face with that of Lorischen, whom I had beendreaming of, for I thought it was hers, and called the captain by hername."
"You did?"
"Yes; I remember his laughing and saying, `poor little chap,' meaningme. He took care of me well, though; and it was only through his kindcare that they were able to bring me round again. They told meafterwards that I was in a most pitiable state of emaciation--askeleton, they said, with only fragments of burnt, blistered skincovering my poor bones!"
"And the others," inquired Fritz,--"did they recover too?"
"No; not one of the three was alive when Captain Brown's ship cameacross our boat. I was the only one who had any life remaining. Theythought me a corpse, too, and would have left me to die with the rest,if it hadn't been for the captain, who declared there was breath stillin my apparently dead body, and kindly had me hoisted on board andattended to."
"But how was it you never wrote home?" said Fritz after a bit, therecollection of what he had gone through overcoming Eric and making himsilent for a moment.
"How could I, when the first land I touched, since I was picked up inthe ocean south of the Cape, was when I stepped ashore here last week!"
"I can't make that out," said Fritz, puzzled at this.
"Why," replied the other, "you must know that Captain Brown's ship, the_Pilot's Bride_, is a whaling vessel; and she was on her usual cruisefor her fishing ground in the Southern Ocean, when I was rescued. Ifthere had been a boatload of us, or had our skipper been alive, perhapsCaptain Brown would have put in to the Cape to land us and so give newsof the loss of our ship; but, as there was only me, a boy, and I was fordays insensible and unable to give him any particulars about the vesselI belonged to, of course he continued his voyage. When I came tomyself, he promised to put me on board the first home-going ship we met;but, as we were far out of the track of these, we never came across asail. We did land at Tristan d'Acunha, about which I'll have to tellyou something bye-and-bye as to a plan I've got in my head, however, asno vessel with the exception of ourselves had been there for six months,there was not much use in my leaving a letter to be forwarded home, onthe chance of its being called for, was there?"
"No," said Fritz, laughing. "A bad sort of post office that!"
"So," continued Eric, "I had to wait till I landed here last Friday,when I wrote at once to dear mother and you, whom I thought would ofcourse still be at Lubeck."
"Ah, you don't know all that has happened since you left," said Fritzsolemnly.
"Nothing is the matter with mother, dear mutterchen?" asked Eric in afrightened voice.
"No; she's quite well, thank God," said Fritz, who then proceeded togive his brother a history of all that had transpired in his absence--the account taking all the longer from Eric's ignorance of the war andeverything connected with it, he not having seen a newspaper from thetime of his leaving home until his arrival at Rhode Island, when, theevents of the past memorable year being of course stale news, they hadno chance of being communicated to him.
"And now," said Fritz, when he had made an end of his confidences inreturn for his brother's story, "I want to know Captain Brown, and thankhim for all his kindness to you, Eric."
As Fritz said this, the broad-shouldered, jolly, seafaring man Eric hadpointed out--who was still talking to Fritz's acquaintance of thesteamboat, close to the divan and within sound of the brothers' voices--hearing his name spoken, looked towards Fritz, who at once raised hishat politely.
"Sarvint, sir," said he, coming forwa
rd and stretching out an open handabout the size of a small-sized ham.
"You're the brother, I reckon from the likeness, of this young shaver Ipicked up off the Cape, hey? My name's Brown, Cap'en Brown, sir, of the_Pilot's Bride_, the smartest whaling craft as ever sailed out o'Providence, I guess. Glad to know you, mister!"
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