by G. A. Henty
They were now in the Knob Channel, and the sea, although still heavy, was more regular. As they passed the Mouse Light-ship there were several large steamers at anchor there, but it was now a straight run down to the Nore and they held on.
Ben Tripper had already asked the captain where he would like to be landed. “I can put you either into Sheerness, Southend, or Leigh,” he said. “Tide is high now, and you can land at any of them without difficulty. But you would get more quickly up to town from Southend or Leigh; and I should recommend our side, because tide will be running out from the Medway pretty strong before we get there, and when that is the case there is a nasty sea at the mouth.”
“I think we cannot do better than Leigh,” the captain said. “Of course I am anxious to get on shore as soon as I can to get the women into dry clothes.”
“It will not make more than twenty minutes’ difference whether you land at Leigh or Southend; and it is much handier for landing at Leigh, and no distance to the inn, where they can get between blankets while their things are being dried.”
“Then Leigh let it be. A few minutes will make no difference one way or the other, and if they have not caught cold already they will not do so in that warm cabin.”
The wind was blowing far too strongly to admit of conversation, except in shouted sentences. Fortunately there was a good supply of tobacco on board, and the rescued sailors, who had almost all a pipe in their pockets, had, after the smack was once clear of the broken water, enjoyed the consolation of a smoke.
Accustomed to look down on the water from the high deck of a large ship, they had at first felt some doubt as to the ability of the low bawley to struggle safely through the towering waves; but as soon as they saw how well she behaved, and how little water she took over the sides, they felt that all danger was over, and became disposed to look at things more cheerfully.
The steward had, as soon as he came on board, relieved Jack of his duties at the galley, and had kept the kettles going; he now served out a second supply of cocoa all round, and hung up as many of the ladies’ things as they could dispense with round the fire to dry.
The passenger had remained below with the ladies. He was suffering from a broken leg, having been knocked down and swept along by the sea soon after the vessel struck. Six of the sailors and two of the mates had either been washed overboard or crushed to death when the masts went over the side.
As they passed the Nore a perfect fleet of steamers and sailing-vessels were at anchor there. Tide had turned strongly now, and there was a nasty heavy choppy sea until the Bessy passed the end of Southend Pier, when she entered comparatively smooth water. In less than half an hour the sails were lowered, and she anchored some fifty yards from the coast-guard station.
The look-out there had already observed the number of people on her deck, and had guessed at once that she had taken the crew off a wreck of some kind, and as soon as the anchor was dropped their boat came alongside.
The captain had as they neared the shore asked Tripper about inns, and at once sent the crew ashore in charge of the mate, with orders to go to the “Bell,” and to see that they had everything they required, saying that he would himself, as soon as the ladies were on shore, go to one of the shops and order a supply of clothes to be sent up for them.
The ladies were next taken ashore, and then the injured man carried up and placed in a boat, a stretcher being sent off for him to be laid on. A messenger had been already sent up to the doctor on the top of the hill to come down to the Ship Inn, where the party now went. The ladies had become so thoroughly warmed by the heat in the little cabin that they declined to go to bed, and having been supplied with dry garments by the landlady, they were soon comfortable.
The surgeon on his arrival pronounced the fracture of the passenger’s leg, which was a few inches above the ankle, to be a simple one, and not likely to be attended with any serious consequences whatever. After setting it he bandaged it in splints, and said that although he should recommend a few days’ perfect quiet, there was no actual reason why the patient should not be taken up to London if he particularly wished it.
Ben Tripper had gone with the captain, and a pile of flannel shirts, stockings, guernseys, trousers, and shoes had at once been sent up to the “Bell.” Furious as was the gale, it was possible to speak so as to be heard in the street of Leigh, and Ben now learned for the first time some particulars about the wreck.
“The Petrel was a seven hundred ton ship,” the captain said, “and on her way home from Australia. She belongs to James Godstone & Son. There is no James Godstone now. The son is the passenger you saved; he is the owner of a dozen vessels all about the same size as the Petrel. His wife and daughter are two of the ladies saved. They went out with us to Australia. The girl was not strong, and had been recommended a sea voyage.
“I had been married when I was at home last time, and was taking my wife out with me; so Mr. Godstone arranged that his wife and daughter should go with me. We carried no other passengers; the other woman saved is the stewardess. Mr. Godstone himself did not go out with us, but went across by Suez and joined us there for the homeward voyage. We made a fine run home; and took our pilot on board off Deal. The gale was blowing up then; but as it looked as if it was coming from the north-east we did not care about riding it out in the Downs, or going back so as to be under shelter of the South Foreland.
“It did not come on really heavy till we were nearly off Margate, and then we got it with a vengeance. Still, as the wind was free, we kept on. Then, as you know, it came on almost pitch dark, and I think the pilot lost his head. Anyhow, as he was one of those who were drowned, we need not say whether he was to blame or not. I thought we were getting too close to the broken water, and told him so, but he said we were all right. He didn’t make allowance enough, I think, for the leeway she was making, and a minute later she struck, and you can guess the rest. Her back broke in a few minutes, and her mizzen went over the side, carrying with it the pilot, my first mate, and six sailors.
“She soon after began to break up at the stern. I cut away the other two masts to relieve her, but the sea made a clear breach over her. I got the ladies and Mr. Godstone, who had been on deck when she struck and got his leg broken by the first sea which pooped her, forward as soon as I could, and managed to fire one of her guns three times. I had no hope of rescue coming from shore, but there was a chance of some ship coming up helping us; though how she was to do it I could not see. However, nothing came near until I saw your sail. I expect that any steamers coming up from the south brought up under the Foreland, while those from the north would of course take the Swin. Anyhow, it would have been all over with us had you not come to our rescue. Even when I saw you making over towards us I had not much hope, for I did not see how you could get close enough to us to aid us, and I was quite sure that no open boat could have lived in that broken water.”
CHAPTER VI
ALTERED PROSPECTS
As soon as the shipwrecked crew were on shore, Jack Robson landed and made his way homeward. At the railway-crossing he met his mother hurrying down, for the news that the Bessy had arrived with a number of shipwrecked people had spread rapidly through the place.
“Well, Jack, so I hear the Bessy has been helping a wreck. I had no idea that you would be home to-day. What in the world induced your uncle to make the run in such weather as this?”
“It was nothing like so bad when we started, mother, and as we had both wind and tide with us there was nothing to fear for the Bessy. We are accustomed to wet jackets, and should have got nothing worse if it had not been for our hearing guns and making for the wreck. Then we certainly had a tremendous sea, the heaviest I have ever been out in. However, we were under storm-sails and did very well. It was nasty work when we anchored in broken water near the wreck, and she jumped about so I thought the mast would have gone. However, everything held, and we managed to save nineteen people from the wreck. That is a pleasant thought, mother, and I would
go through it again twenty times to do it.” By this time they had reached the door of the house.
“There, run upstairs and change, Jack. I will get you some tea ready by the time you come down.”
“I have had some hot cocoa, mother, and am as right as possible. Still, I shall not object to a cup of tea and something to eat with it. We had breakfast before we started at eight, and it is seven now. We thought when we hoisted sail we should be down here under the six hours, but of course going off to the wreck made all the difference. And, anyhow, we could not have driven her fast in such a sea.”
By the time Jack had had his tea a comfortable glow had come over him. Now that it was all over he felt bruised and stiff from the buffeting he had gone through, and after half an hour’s chat with his mother and sister, in which he told them more fully the events of the wreck, he turned into bed and slept soundly till the morning. Captain Murchison, for that was his name, came round half an hour after Jack had gone up to bed to ask him to go round to the inn, as the ladies wished to see him and thank him for his share in rescuing them, but on hearing that he had gone up to bed asked his mother to request him to come round in the morning at ten o’clock.
“You have reason to be proud of your son, Mrs. Robson,” he said. “His leaping over in such a sea as that to get hold of the line from our ship was a most gallant action.”
“He told me the line was tied round him, sir, so that there was no danger in it at all.”
“There is always danger in such a business as that, Mrs. Robson. The force of the waves in shallow water is tremendous, and will beat a man to death if they do not drown him. Then there is the difficulty of his getting on board again when a vessel is rolling and pitching so tremendously, and the danger of his being struck by a piece of drift-wood from the wreck. I can assure you that it was a very grand action, whatever your son may have told you about it.”
The next morning the gale was still blowing fiercely, although with less strength than on the previous day. Jack had heard from his mother of his appointment to go to the “Ship” with much discontent, and had at first positively refused to go.
“I hate going up to see strange people, mother, anyhow; and I am sure that I do not want to be thanked. I am glad enough to have had a share in saving all their lives, but of course it was all Uncle Ben and Tom’s handling the boat that did it; I had nothing to do with it whatever, except that little swim with the rope tied safely round me. Why, it was nothing to that affair that I had with Bill and Joe Corbett.”
“But you must go, Jack; the ladies naturally wish to thank you for what you did for them, and whether you like it or not you must go. It would be very rude and uncivil not to do so. They would be sure to send round here if you did not come, and what should I say except that you were so unmannerly that you would not go.”
Jack twisted himself on his chair uncomfortably.
“I don’t see why they shouldn’t thank Uncle Ben for the lot and have done with it,” he grumbled. “It is his boat and he was the skipper, and he did it all; besides, I expect the Bessy will have to be overhauled before she goes out again. She came down with a tremendous crash on her forefoot, and the water was just coming up through the boards in the fo’castle when we came in. Of course it may have come in from above, but I expect she sprang a leak somewhere forward. I thought she was very low in the water when she came in, and I expect that she must have been half full aft, for she was very much down by the stern.
“We had the pump going all the time, and it was always clear water. I did not think of it at the time. We had had such a lot of water over us it was likely it might have got in through the hatches; but I feel sure now that it was a leak. Well, I suppose if I must go, I must, mother; but I hate it for all that.”
However, just before Jack was about to start there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Robson opening it saw two ladies and a girl. Immediately on their arrival the evening before, Mrs. Godstone had telegraphed home for a servant to come down in the morning by the first train, with clothes for herself and daughter, and she had arrived with them an hour before. Mrs. Godstone had therefore been enabled to resume her usual attire, and to lend an outfit to Mrs. Murchison. Jack did not in the least recognize in the three ladies the soaked and draggled women, of whose faces he had caught but a slight glimpse on the previous day.
“We have come round, Mrs. Robson,” Mrs. Godstone began, “to thank your son for his share in saving our lives yesterday. We thought that it would be more pleasant to him than coming round to us at the inn.”
“Thank you, madam,” Mrs. Robson replied. “It was kind of you to think of it. I have had a good deal of trouble in persuading Jack to go round. He was just starting; but it was very much against the grain, I can assure you. Come in, please.”
Mrs. Godstone was surprised at the tone in which this fisher lad’s mother spoke, for during her thirteen years of married life Bessy Robson had lost the Essex dialect, and acquired the manners of her husband’s friends. She was still more surprised at the pretty furniture of the room, which was tastefully decorated, and the walls hung with pictures of marine subjects, for Bessy had brought down bodily her belongings from Dulwich. Mrs. Godstone at once walked up to Jack with outstretched hand.
“I hope you are none the worse for your exertions of yesterday,” she said. “My daughter and I have come round to thank you for the very great service you rendered us.”
Mrs. Murchison and Mildred Godstone also shook hands with Jack. The former added her thanks to Mrs. Godstone’s.
Jack coloured up hotly and said, “It is my uncle you have to thank, ma’am. It was his bawley, and he and Tom sailed it, and I had nothing to do with it one way or the other.”
“Except when you swam out for the line,” Mrs. Godstone said smiling.
“I had one tied round me, and was all right,” Jack protested.
“My husband does not think it was nothing, as you seem to consider,” Mrs. Murchison said; “and as he has been a sailor all his life he ought to know. He says that it was a very gallant action in such a sea as that, and, you see, we are bound to believe him.”
The ladies had now taken seats. Mrs. Godstone felt a little at a loss. Had Jack’s home and Jack’s mother been what they had expected to find them the matter would have been simple enough, but she felt at once that any talk of reward for the service Jack had rendered them would be at present impossible.
“What a pretty room you have got, Mrs. Robson, and what charming pictures!”
“They are my husband’s painting,” Mrs. Robson said quietly. “He was an artist.”
“Oh! I know the name,” Mrs. Godstone said. “I have four of Mr. Robson’s pictures in my drawing-room. I am very fond of marine subjects.”
This served as an introduction, and for half an hour the conversation proceeded briskly. Then Mrs. Godstone rose.
“My husband’s leg is very painful this morning,” she said, “and I fear that he will have to keep his bed for the next two or three days. When he is well enough to lie down on the sofa I will come down and fetch your son, for Mr. Godstone is of course anxious to see him, and I am afraid that if I do not come round myself we shall not get Jack to the inn.”
“Well, that was not so very bad, was it, Jack?” Mrs. Robson asked after her visitors had left.
“No, mother, it wasn’t. You see, it was ever so much better their coming here than it would have been if I had gone to the inn, because there was you for them to talk to, so that really there was not much said to me. If it had been at the inn there would have been nothing to talk about at all, except about the wreck. Well, now that is over I will go down and see how the bawley is; but I had best change my things first. Uncle was going to get her up as high as he could at the top of the tide, so as to be able to look at her keel.”
Jack found that his uncle and Tom had turned out at three o’clock in the morning, and had got theBessy as high up as possible on the sloping shore, just beyond the houses. They were sta
nding beside her now, while Benting, the local boat-builder, was examining her bottom.
“Well, Jack, you have taken it out in sleep this morning,” his uncle said.
“That I have, uncle. I never woke until eight o’clock, so I had just twelve hours’ sleep.”
“Nothing like a good sleep, Jack, when you have had a hard day’s work; and yesterday was enough to take it out of anyone.”
“Is she damaged at all?” Jack asked.
“Yes, her forefoot is sprung just where it joins the keel; she came down just on the joint.”
“That will be a rather nasty job to get right, won’t it?”
“Yes, Jack, Benting says she must have a new stem altogether. He does not think the keel is damaged, but the stem is cracked right through.”
“That will cost a lot, won’t it?” Jack said.
“Yes, it is a nasty job, Jack; because, of course, she will want a lot of fresh planks in her. In fact, she will want pretty well rebuilding forward of the mast.”
“It will cost about twenty pounds to make a good job of it,” Benting said as he joined them. “I shouldn’t like to take the job for less, not on contract. If I did day-work it might come to a little less or a little more, I cannot say.”
Jack looked anxiously up into his uncle’s face, for he knew that twenty pounds was a serious matter.
“It won’t be at my expense, Jack,” Ben replied to his look. “Captain Murchison came down at seven o’clock this morning and had a look at her with me. I told him yesterday that I was afraid she had damaged herself on the sand, as she had made a lot of water on her way up. He said that I was to have her examined at once and get an estimate for repairing her thoroughly, and that he would undertake it should be paid. He asked what her age was. Of course I told him she was only four years old, and that I had only finished paying off the money I borrowed when I had her built, last year. He said that as she was only four years old she was worth spending the money on; but if she had been an old boat, it would not have been worth while throwing money away on her. But Benting says he can make her as good as new again.”
