CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
DARK DEEDS ARE DONE UPON THE SEA--TOMMY BOGEY IN GREAT DANGER.
"Well, Bluenose, hoo d'ye find yerself to-day?" inquired Supple Rodgerone fine morning, as the Captain sauntered slowly along the beach infront of his hut, with his hands deep in the pockets of his pilot-coat.
"Thankee, I amongst the middlings. How's yerself?"
"I like myself," said Rodgers; "how's old Jeph?"
"Rather or'nary; but I dessay he'll come all square after a day or twoin dock," answered the Captain; "I left him shored up in bed withbolsters."
"So Tommy's slipped his cable, I'm told?" said Rodgers interrogatively.
"Ay, he's off, an' no mistake. I thought he was jokin', for I heard himtalk o' goin' after Bax some time past, but nothin' more come of it tillyesterday, when he comes to me and bids me good day, and then off like agalley after a French smuggler. It's o' no use tryin' to catch him.That boy'll make his way and have his will somehow, whether we let himor no. Ay, ay," said Bluenose, lighting his pipe with a heavy sigh,"Tommy Bogey's gone for good."
That was the last that was heard of poor Tommy for many a long day onthe beach of Deal. But as there is no good reason why the readersshould be kept in the dark regarding his movements, we shall follow himon the rugged path he had selected, and leave the men of Deal to wonderfor a time, and talk, and then forget him.
Having waited as long as his patience could hold out, and no letterhaving come from Bax, Tommy at last prepared to carry out his plan. Bydint of hard labour among the boats at any odd jobs that people wouldgive him, and running messages, and making himself generally useful tothe numerous strangers who visited that fine and interesting part of thecoast, he had scraped together a few pounds. By persevering study atnights he had acquired a fair knowledge of figures and a smattering ofnavigation. Thus equipped in mind and purse he went off to seek hisfortune.
His intention was in the first place to go to London and visit the"Three Jolly Tars," where, he doubted not, every possible andconceivable sort of information in regard to shipping could be obtained.
There chanced at the time to be a certain small collier lying in thedowns, awaiting a fair wind to carry her into the port of London. Thiscollier (a schooner) was named the "Butterfly," perhaps because theowner had a hazy idea that there was some resemblance between an insectflitting about from flower to flower and a vessel sailing from port toport! Black as a chimney from keelson to truck, she was as like to abutterfly as a lady's hand is to a monkey's paw.
The skipper of the "Butterfly" was a friend of Bluenose, and knew Tommy.He at once agreed to give him a passage to London, and never thought ofasking questions.
Soon after the boy went aboard the wind changed to the south-west; the"Butterfly" spread her black wings, bore away to the nor'ard, anddoubled the North Foreland, where she was becalmed, and left to driftwith the tide just as night was closing in.
"I'm tired, Jager" (this was the skipper's name); "I'll go below andtake a snooze," said Tommy, "for I've lots o' work before me to-morrow."
So Tommy went below and fell asleep. The three men who formed the crewof this dingy craft lay down on the deck, the night being fine, and alsofell asleep, Jager being at the helm.
Now Jager was one of those careless, easy-going, reckless seamen, who,by their folly, ignorance, and intemperance are constantly bringingthemselves to the verge of destruction.
He sat near the tiller gazing up at the stars dreamily for some time;then he looked round the horizon, then glanced at the compass and up atthe sails, which hung idly from the yards, after which he began tomutter to himself in low grumbling tones--
"Goin' to blow from the nor'ard. Ay, allers blows the way I don't wantit to. Driftin' to the southward too. If this lasts we'll drift on theSands. Comfr'able to think on, that is. Come, Jager, don't you go forto git into the blues. Keep up yer sperits, old boy!"
Acting on his own suggestion, the skipper rose and went below to aprivate locker, in which he kept a supply of rum,--his favouritebeverage. He passed Tommy Bogey on the way. Observing, that the boywas sleeping soundly, he stopped in front of him and gazed long into hisface with that particularly stupid expression which is common to men whoare always more or less tipsy.
"Sleep away, my lad, it'll do ye good."
Accompanying this piece of unnecessary advice with a sagacious nod ofthe head, the skipper staggered on and possessed himself of acase-bottle about three-quarters full of rum, with which he returned tothe deck and began to drink.
While he was thus employed, a breeze sprang up from the north-east.
"Ease off the sheets there, you lubbers!" shouted the drunken man, as heseized the tiller and looked at the compass. "What! sleeping again,Bunks? I'll rouse ye, _I_ will."
With that, in a burst of anger, he rushed forward and gave one of thesleepers a severe kick in the ribs. Bunks rose sulkily, and with aterrible imprecation advised the skipper "not to try that again"; towhich the skipper retorted, that if his orders were not obeyed moresharply, he would not only try it again, but he would "chuck himoverboard besides."
Having applied a rope's-end to the shoulders of one of the othersleepers, he repeated his orders to ease off the sheets, as the wind wasfair, and staggered back to his place at the helm.
"Why, I do believe it is a sou'-wester," he muttered to himself,attempting in vain to read the compass.
It was in reality north-east, but Jager's intellects were muddled; hemade it out to be south-west and steered accordingly, almost straightbefore it. The three men who formed the crew of the little vessel wereso angry at the treatment they had received, that they neither cared norknew how the ship's head lay. A thick mist came down about the sametime, and veiled the lights which would otherwise have soon revealed thefact that the skipper had made a mistake.
"Why, wot on airth ails the compass?" muttered Jager, bending forwardintently to gaze at the instrument, which, to his eye, seemed to pointin all directions at once; "come, I'll have another pull at the b-bottleto steady me."
He grasped the bottle to carry out this intention, but in doing sothrust the helm down inadvertently. The schooner came up to the wind atonce, and as the wind had freshened to a stiff breeze and a great dealof canvas was set, she heeled violently over to starboard. The skipperwas pitched into the lee scuppers, and the case-bottle of rum wasshivered to atoms before he had time to taste a drop.
"Mind your helm!" roared Bunks, savagely. "D'ye want to send us to thebottom?"
The man sprang to the helm, and accompanied his remark with severalfierce oaths, which need not be repeated, but which had the effect ofrousing Jager's anger to such a pitch, that he jumped up and hit thesailor a heavy blow on the face.
"I'll stop your swearin', I will," he cried, preparing to repeat theblow, but the man stepped aside and walked forward, leaving hiscommander alone on the quarter-deck.
Bunks, who was a small but active man, was a favourite with the othertwo men who constituted the crew of the "Butterfly," and both of whomwere strong-limbed fellows. Their anger at seeing him treated thussavagely knew no bounds. They had long been at deadly feud with Jager.One of them, especially (a tall, dark, big-whiskered man named Job), hadmore than once said to his comrades that he would be the death of theskipper yet. Bunks usually shook his head when he heard these threats,and said, "It wouldn't pay, unless he wanted to dance a hornpipe onnothing," which was a delicate reference to being hung.
When the two men saw Bunks come forward with blood streaming from hismouth, they looked at each other and swore a tremendous oath.
"Will ye lend a hand, Jim?" sputtered Job between his clenched teeth.
Jim nodded.
"No, no," cried Bunks, interposing, but the two men dashed him aside andrushed aft.
Their purpose, whatever it might have been, was arrested for a moment byBunks suddenly shouting at the top of his lungs--
"Light on the starboard bow!"
"That's a lie,"
said Jager, savagely; "use yer eyes, you land-lubber."
"We're running straight on the North Foreland," cried Job, who, with hiscompanion, suddenly stopped and gazed round them out ahead in alarm.
"The North Foreland, you fool," cried the skipper roughly, "who ever sawthe North Foreland light on the starboard bow, with the ship's head duenorth?"
"I don't believe 'er head _is_ due north," said Job, stepping up to thebinnacle, just as Tommy Bogey, aroused by the sudden lurch of the vesseland the angry voices, came on deck.
"Out o' the way," cried Jager roughly, hitting Job such a blow on thehead that he sent him reeling against the lee bulwarks.
The man, on recovering himself, uttered a fierce yell, and rushing onthe skipper, seized him by the throat with his left hand, and drove hisright fist into his face with all his force.
Jager, although a powerful man, and, when sober, more than a match forhis antagonist, was overborne and driven with great violence against thebinnacle, which, being of inferior quality and ill secured, likeeverything else in the miserable vessel, gave way under his weight, andthe compass was dashed to pieces on the deck.
Jim ran to assist his comrade, and Bunks attempted to interfere.Fortunately, Tommy Bogey's presence of mind did not forsake him. Heseized the tiller while the men were fighting furiously, and steeredaway from the light, feeling sure that, whatever it might be, the wisestthing to be done was to steer clear of it.
He had not got the schooner quite before the wind when a squall struckher, and laid her almost on her beam-ends. The lurch of the vessel sentthe struggling men against the taffrail with great violence. Theskipper's back was almost broken by the shock, for his body met the sideof the vessel, and the other two were thrown upon him. Job tookadvantage of his opportunity: seizing Jager by the leg, he suddenlylifted him over the iron rail, and hurled him into the sea. There wasone wild shriek and a heavy plunge, and the miserable man sank to riseno more.
It is impossible to describe the horror of the poor boy at the helm whenhe witnessed this cold-blooded murder. Bold though he was, andaccustomed to face danger and witness death in some of its mostappalling forms, he could not withstand the shock of such a scene ofviolence perpetrated amid the darkness and danger of a stormy night atsea. His first impulse was to run below, and get out of sight of themen who had done so foul a deed; but reflecting that they might, intheir passion, toss him into the sea also if he were to show his horror,he restrained himself, and stood calmly at his post.
"Come, out o' the way, younker," cried Job, seizing the helm.
Tommy shrank from the man, as if he feared the contamination of histouch.
"You young whelp, what are ye affeared on? eh!"
He aimed a blow at Tommy, which the latter smartly avoided.
"Murderer!" cried the boy, rousing himself suddenly, "you shall swingfor this yet."
"Shall I? eh! Here, Jim, catch hold o' the tiller."
Jim obeyed, and Job sprang towards Tommy, but the latter, who was litheand active as a kitten, leaped aside and avoided him. For five minutesthe furious man rushed wildly about the deck in pursuit of the boy,calling on Bunks to intercept him, but Bunks would not stir hand orfoot, and Jim could not quit the helm, for the wind had increased to agale; and as there was too much sail set, the schooner was flying beforeit with masts, ropes, and beams creaking under the strain.
"Do your worst," cried Tommy, during a brief pause, "you'll never catchme. I defy you, and will denounce you the moment we got into port."
"Will you? then you'll never get into port alive," yelled Job, as heleaped down the companion, and returned almost instantly, with one ofthe skipper's pistols.
He levelled it and fired, but the unsteady motion of the vessel causedhim to miss his aim. He was about to descend for another pistol, whenthe attention of all on board was attracted by a loud roar of surf.
"Breakers ahead!" roared Bunks.
This new danger--the most terrible, with perhaps the exception of fire,to which a seaman can be exposed--caused all hands to forget the past inthe more awful present. The helm was put down, the schooner flew upinto the wind, and sheered close past a mass of leaping, roaring foam,the sight of which would have caused the stoutest heart to quail.
"Keep her close hauled," shouted Job, who stood on the heel of thebowsprit looking out ahead.
"D'ye think it's the North Foreland?" asked Bunks, who stood beside him.
"I s'pose it is," said Job, "but how it comes to be on our lee bow, withthe wind as it is, beats me out and out. Anyhow, I'll keep her well offthe land,--mayhap run for the coast of Norway. They're not so partiklerabout inquiries there, I'm told."
"I'll tell ye what it is, Bunks," said Tommy, who had gone forward andoverheard the last observation, but could not bring himself to speak toJob, "you may depend on it we're out of our course; as sure as you standthere the breakers we have just passed are the north end of the GoodwinSands. If we carry on as we're going now, and escape the sands, we'llfind ourselves on the coast o' France, or far down the Channel in themorning."
"Thank'ee for nothin'," said Job, with a sneer; "next time ye've got togive an opinion wait till it's axed for, an' keep well out o' the reacho' my arm, if ye don't want to keep company with the skipper."
Tommy made no reply to this. He did not even look as if he had heardit; but, addressing himself to Bunks, repeated his warning.
Bunks was disposed to attach some weight to it at first, but as thecompass was destroyed he had no means of ascertaining the truth of whatwas said, and as Job laughed all advice to scorn, and had taken commandof the vessel, he quietly gave in.
They soon passed the breakers, and went away with the lee-gunwaledipping in the water right down the Channel. Feeling relieved fromimmediate danger, the murderer once more attempted to catch Tommy, butwithout success. He then went below, and soon after came on deck withsuch a flushed face and wild unsteady gaze, that it was evident to hiscompanions he had been at the spirit locker. Jim was inclined to rebelnow, but he felt that Job was more than a match for him and Bunks.Besides, he was the best seaman of the three.
"Don't 'ee think we'd better close-reef the tops'l?" said Bunks, as Jobcame on deck; "if you'll take the helm, Jim and me will lay out on theyard."
There was truly occasion for anxiety. During the last hour the gale hadincreased, and the masts were almost torn out of the little vessel, asshe drove before it. To turn her side to the wind would have insuredher being thrown on her beam-ends. Heavy seas were constantly breakingover the stern, and falling with such weight on the deck that Tommyexpected to see them stove in and the vessel swamped. In othercircumstances the boy would have been first to suggest reefing thesails, and first to set the example, but he felt that his life dependedthat night (under God) on his watchfulness and care.
"Reef tops'l!" cried Job, looking fiercely at Bunks, "no, we shan't;there's one reef in't, an' that's enough." Bunks shuddered, for he sawby the glare of the murderer's eyes that the evil deed, coupled with hisdeep potations, had driven him mad.
"P'raps it is," said Bunks, in a submissive voice; "but it may be aswell to close reef, 'cause the weather don't seem like to git better."
Job turned with a wild laugh to Tommy:
"Here, boy, go aloft and reef tops'l; d'ye hear?"
Tommy hesitated.
"If you don't," said Job, hissing out the words in the extremity of hispassion, and stopping abruptly, as if unable to give utterance to hisfeelings.
"Well, what if I don't?" asked the boy sternly.
"Why, then--ha! ha! ha!--why, I'll do it myself."
With another fiendish laugh Job sprang into the rigging, and was soonout upon the topsail-yard busy with the reef points.
"Why, he's _shakin' out_ the reef," cried Jim in alarm. "I've half amind to haul on the starboard brace, and try to shake the monster intothe sea!"
Job soon shook out the reef, and, descending swiftly by one of thebackstays, seized the topsail-halyards.
But no one would obey, so, uttering a curse upon his comrades, he passedthe rope round a stanchion, and with his right hand partially hoistedthe sail, while with his left he hauled in the slack of the rope.
The vessel, already staggering under much too great a press of canvas,now rushed through the water with terrific speed; burying her bows infoam at one moment, and hurling off clouds of spray at the next as sheheld on her wild course. Job stood on the bowsprit, drenched withspray, holding with one hand to the forestay, and waving the other highabove his head, cheering and yelling furiously as if he were daring theangry sea to come on, and do its worst.
Jim, now unable to speak or act from terror, clung to the starboardbulwarks, while Bunks stood manfully at the helm. Tommy held on to themainmast shrouds, and gazed earnestly and anxiously out ahead.
Thus they flew, they knew not whither, for several hours that night.
Towards morning, a little before daybreak, the gale began to moderate.Job's mood had changed. His wild yelling fit had passed away, and henow ranged about the decks in moody silence, like a chained tiger; goingdown every now and then to drink, but never resting for a moment, andalways showing by his looks that he had his eye on Tommy Bogey.
The poor boy knew this well, and watched him intently the whole of thatterrible night.
Bunks, who had never once quitted his post, began to yawn, and suggestedto Jim that he might take a spell at the helm now, when the progress ofthe schooner was suddenly arrested with a shock so violent that those onboard were hurled prostrate on the deck, the fore-topmast snapped andwent over the side, carrying the main-topmast and the jib-boom alongwith it, and the sea made a clean breach over the stern, completelysweeping the deck.
Job, who chanced to have gone down below, was hurled against the cabinbulkhead, and the glass bottle he held to his lips was shivered toatoms. With his face cut and bleeding he sprang up thecompanion-ladder.
"On the rocks!" he shouted.
"On the sand, anyhow," answered Bunks.
"The boat! the boat! she won't last ten minutes," cried Jim.
One of the two boats belonging to the "Butterfly" had been washed awayby the last wave, the other remained in its place. To this the threemen rushed, and launched it quickly into the water. Job was first toget into it.
"Jump in, jump in," he cried to the others, who were prompt enough toobey.
Tommy Bogey stood motionless and silent close to the main-mast. Hisface was very pale; but a stern pursing of the lips and compression ofthe eyebrows showed that it was not cowardly fear that blanched hischeek.
"The boy! the boy!" cried Bunks, as Job let go his hold of the schooner.
A wild stern laugh from Job showed that he had made up his mind to leaveTommy to perish.
"Shame!" cried Jim, seizing one of the oars; "pull, Bunks, pull towind'ard a bit; we'll drop down and save him yet. Pull, you murderer!"shouted Jim, with a burst of anger so sudden and fierce that Job wascowed. He sat down and obeyed.
The boat was very small, and might have been easily pulled by so stronga crew in ordinary circumstances; but the strength of wind and seatogether was so great, that they were in great danger of being swamped,and it required their utmost efforts to pull a few yards to windward ofthe schooner.
"Now then, look out!" cried Jim, endeavouring to turn the boat.
As he said this a wave caught its side and upset it. The men uttered aloud cry; a moment later, and they were swept against the bow of the"Butterfly." Tommy had sprung to the side, caught up a rope, and castit over. Bunks did not see it; he made a wild grasp at the smooth wetside of the vessel, but his hands found nothing to lay hold of, and hewas carried quickly away to leeward. Jim caught the rope, but wasbrought up so suddenly by it that it was torn from his grasp. He alsowent to leeward and perished.
Job had caught hold of the cutwater, and, digging his fingers into thewood, held on by main strength for a few minutes.
"Here, lay hold o' the rope," cried Tommy, whose only desire now was tosave the life of the wretched man; "there, don't you feel it?"
He had rubbed the rope against Job's face in order to let him know itwas there, but the man seemed to have lost all power to move. He simplymaintained his death-grip until his strength gave way. Tommy understoodhis case, and looked quickly round for one of those ring-shapedlifebuoys which we are accustomed to see in our passenger steamers tiedup so securely that they would in most cases of sudden emergency beutterly useless. But the owners of the "Butterfly" were economists.They did not think life-preserving worth the expenditure of a fewshillings, so there was no lifebuoy to be found. There was a round corkfender, however, which the boy seized and flung into the sea, just asJob's grasp loosened. He uttered a wild shriek, and tossed up his armsimploringly, as he was carried away. The buoy fell close beside him,and he caught it. But it was scarce sufficient to sustain his weight,and merely prolonged the agonising struggle. Tommy soon lost sight ofhim in the darkness. Soon after there arose a wild fierce cry, so loudand strong that it seemed to have been uttered at the boy's elbow.Tommy shuddered, for it suggested the idea of a despairing soul.
He listened intently, and twice again that thrilling cry broke on hisear, but each time more faintly. Still he continued to listen for itwith a feeling of horror, and once or twice fancied that he heard itrising above the turmoil of wind and waves. Long before he ceased tolisten in expectancy, the murderer's dead body lay tossing in that greatwatery grave in which so many of the human race--innocent and guiltyalike--lie buried.
Ere long Tommy was called to renewed exertion and trial.
The tide happened to be rising when the schooner struck. While theincidents above related were taking place, the "Butterfly" was beingdashed on the sand so violently, that her breaking up in the course of ashort time was a matter of certainty. Tommy knew this well, but he didnot give way to despair. He resolved not to part with his young lifewithout a struggle, and therefore cast about in his mind what was bestto be done.
His first idea was to construct a raft. He had just begun thislaborious work when the rising tide lifted the schooner over thesand-bank, and sent her off into deep water. This raised Tommy's hopesand spirits to an unnaturally high pitch; he trimmed the foresail--theonly one left--as well as he could, and then, seizing the tiller, keptthe vessel running straight before the wind.
Standing thus at the helm he began to reflect on his position, and thereflection did not tend to comfort him. He was out in a gale on thestormy sea, without companions, without compass to guide him, andsteering he knew not whither--possibly on rocks or shoals. This latteridea induced him to attempt to lie-to till day-break, but the crippledcondition of the schooner rendered this impossible. There was nothingfor it, therefore, but to run before the gale.
In a short time his attention was attracted to a peculiar sound in thehold. On examination he found that the vessel had sprung a leak, andthat the water was rising slowly but steadily. The poor boy's heartsank, and for the first time his courage began to give way; but quicklyrecovering himself he lashed the helm in position, and manfully set towork at the pump. He was somewhat relieved to find that the leak wassmall. In an hour he had pumped out nearly all the water. Then hereturned to the helm and rested there for an hour, at the end of whichthe water in the hold had increased so much that he had to ply the pumpagain.
The day broke while he was thus engaged, but the morning was so thickthat he could see no land. On returning to the helm the second time,Tommy felt that this state of things could not go on much longer. Theexcitement, the watching, the horrors of the past night were beginningto tell on him. His muscles were exhausted, and he felt an irresistibledesire to sleep. He struggled against this till about noon, by whichtime the wind had moderated to a steady breeze, and the sun shonethrough the mist as if to cheer him up a little.
He had eaten nothing for many hours, as he did not dare to quit his postto go below for fo
od, lest the schooner should come suddenly on someother vessel and be run down. Hunger and exhaustion, however, soonrendered him desperate; he ran below, seized a handful of biscuit,filled a can with water, and returned hastily on deck to break his fast.It was one of the sweetest meals he ever ate, and refreshed him so muchthat he was able to go on alternately steering and pumping till late inthe afternoon. Then he suddenly broke down. Exhausted nature couldbear up no longer. He lashed the helm, pumped out the water in the holdfor the last time, and went below to rest.
He was half asleep as he descended the companion-ladder. A strange andsad yet dreamy feeling that everything he did was "for the last time,"weighed heavily on his spirit, but this was somehow relieved by theknowledge that he was now at last about to _rest_! There was delight inthat simple thought, though there mingled with it a feeling that therest would terminate in death; he lay down to sleep with a feeling thathe lay down to die, and a half-formed prayer escaped his lips as hiswearied head fell upon the pillow.
Instantly he was buried in deep repose.
The sun sank in the ocean, the stars came out and spangled all the sky,and the moon rose and sank again, but Tommy lay, regardless ofeverything, in profound slumber. Again the sun arose on a sea so calmthat it seemed like oil, ascended into the zenith, and sank towards itssetting. Still the boy continued to sleep, his young head restingquietly on the pillow of the dead skipper; his breath coming gently andregularly through the half-opened lips that smiled as if he were restingin peace on his mother's bosom.
Being dashed on the rocks, or run into by steamers, or whelmed in thewaves, were ideas that troubled him not, or, if they did, they wereconnected only with the land of dreams. Thus the poor boy rested calmlyin the midst of danger--yet in safety, for the arm of God was aroundhim.
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