The Phantom Ship

by Frederick Marryat

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

  But their difficulties were not surmounted--the fire now hadcommunicated to the main-deck and burst out of the port-holesamid-ships--and the raft which had been forming alongside was obliged tobe drifted astern where it was more exposed to the swell. This retardedtheir labour, and, in the mean time the fire was making rapid progress;the main-mast which had long been burning, fell over the side with thelurching of the vessel, and the flames out of the main-deck ports soonshowed their points above the bulwarks, while volumes of smoke werepoured in upon the upper-deck almost suffocating the numbers which werecrowded there; for all communication with the fore-part of the ship hadbeen for some time cut off by the flames, and every one had retreatedaft. The women and children were now carried on to the poop; not onlyto remove them farther from the suffocating smoke, but that they mightbe lowered down to the raft from the stern.

  It was about four o'clock in the morning when all was ready, and by theexertions of Philip and the seamen, notwithstanding the swell, the womenand children were safely placed on the raft where it was considered thatthey would be less in the way, as the men could relieve each other inpulling when they were tired.

  After the women and children had been lowered down, the troops were nextordered to descend by the ladders; some few were lost in the attempt,falling under the boat's bottom and not re-appearing; but two-thirds ofthem were safely put on the berths they were ordered to take by Krantz,who had gone down to superintend this important arrangement. Such hadbeen the vigilance of Philip, who had requested Captain Barentz to standover the spirit-room hatch, with pistols, until the smoke on themain-deck rendered the precaution unnecessary, that not a single personwas intoxicated, and to this might be ascribed the order and regularitywhich had prevailed during this trying scene. But before one-third ofthe soldiers had descended by the stern ladder, the fire burst out ofthe stern windows with a violence that nothing could withstand; spoutsof vivid flame extended several feet from the vessel, roaring with theforce of a blowpipe; at the same time the flames burst through all theafter-ports of the main-deck, and those remaining on board foundthemselves encircled with fire, and suffocated with smoke and heat. Thestern ladders were consumed in a minute and dropped into the sea theboats which had been receiving the men were obliged also to back asternfrom the intense heat of the flames; even those on the raft shrieked asthey found themselves scorched by the ignited fragments which fell onthem as they were enveloped in an opaque cloud of smoke, which hid fromthem those who still remained on the deck of the vessel. Philipattempted to speak to those on board, but he was not heard. A scene ofconfusion took place which ended in great loss of life. The only objectappeared to be who should first escape; though, except by jumpingoverboard, there was no escape. Had they waited, and (as Philip wouldhave pointed out to them) have one by one thrown themselves into thesea, the men in the boats were fully prepared to pick them up; or hadthey climbed out to the end of the latteen mizen-yard which was lowereddown, they might have descended safely by a rope, but the scorching ofthe flames which surrounded them, and the suffocation from the smoke wasoverpowering, and most of the soldiers sprang over the taffrail at once,or as nearly so as possible. The consequence was, that there werethirty or forty in the water at the same time, and the scene was asheart-rending as it was appalling; the sailors in the boats draggingthem in as fast as they could--the women on the raft, throwing to themloose garments to haul them in; at one time a wife shrieking as she sawher husband struggling and sinking into eternity; at another, curses andexecrations from the swimmer who was grappled with by the drowning man,and dragged with him under the surface. Of eighty men who were left ofthe troops on board at the time of the bursting out of the flames fromthe stern windows, but twenty-five were saved. There were but fewseamen left on board with Philip, the major part having been employed inmaking the raft or manning the three boats; those who were on boardremained by his side, regulating their motions by his. After allowingfull time for the soldiers to be picked up, Philip ordered the men toclimb out to the end of the latteen yard which hung on the taffrail, andeither to lower themselves down on the raft if it was under, or to givenotice to the boats to receive them. The raft had been dropped fartherastern by the seamen, that those on board of it might not suffer fromthe smoke and heat; and the sailors one after another lowered themselvesdown and were received by the boats. Philip desired Captain Barentz togo before him, but the captain refused. He was too much choked withsmoke to say why, but no doubt but that it would have been something inpraise of the Vrow Katerina. Philip then climbed out; he was followedby the captain, and they were both received into one of the boats.

  The rope, which had hitherto held the raft to the ship, was now castoff, and it was taken in by the boats; and in a short time the VrowKaterina was borne to leeward of them; and Philip and Krantz now madearrangements for the better disposal of the people. The sailors werealmost all put into boats that they might relieve one another inpulling; the remainder were placed on the raft, along with the soldiers,the women, and the children. Notwithstanding that the boats were all asmuch loaded as they could well bear, the numbers on the raft were sogreat, that it sunk nearly a foot under water, when the swell of the seapoured upon it; but stanchions and ropes to support those on board hadbeen fixed and the men remained at the sides, while the women andchildren were crowded together in the middle.

  As soon as these arrangements were made, the boats took the raft in tow,and just as the dawn of day appeared, pulled in the direction of theland.

  The Vrow Katerina was, by this time, one volume of flame: she haddrifted about half a mile to leeward, and Captain Barentz, who waswatching as he sat in the boat with Philip, exclaimed--"Well, there goesa lovely ship, a ship that could do everything but speak--I'm sure thatnot a ship in the fleet would have made such a bonfire as she has--doesshe not burn beautifully--nobly? My poor Vrow Katerina! perfect to thelast, we never shall see such a ship as you again! Well, I'm glad myfather did not live to see this sight, for it would have broken hisheart, poor man."

  Philip made no reply; he felt a respect even for Captain Barentz'smisplaced regard for the vessel. They made but little way, for theswell was rather against them, and the raft was deep in the water. Theday dawned, and the appearance of the weather was not favourable; itpromised a return of the gale. Already a breeze ruffled the surface ofthe water, and the swell appeared to increase rather than go down. Thesky was overcast and the horizon thick. Philip looked out for the land,but could not perceive it, for there was a haze on the horizon, so thathe could not see more than five miles. He felt that to gain the shorebefore the coming night was necessary for the preservation of so manyindividuals of whom more than sixty were women and children, who withoutany nourishment, were sitting on a frail raft, immersed in the water.No land in sight--a gale coming on, and in all probability, a heavy seaand dark night. The chance was indeed desperate, and Philip wasmiserable--most miserable--when he reflected that so many innocentbeings might, before the next morning, be consigned to a watery tomb,--and why?--yes, there was the feeling--that although Philip could reasonagainst--he never could conquer; for his own life he cared nothing--eventhe idea of his beloved Amine was nothing in the balance at thesemoments. The only point which sustained him, was the knowledge that hehad his duty to perform, and, in the full exercise of his duty, herecovered himself.

  "Land ahead!" was now cried out by Krantz, who was in the headmost boat,and the news was received with a shout of joy from the raft and theboats. The anticipation and the hope the news gave was like manna inthe wilderness--and the poor women on the raft, drenched sometimes abovethe waist by the swell of the sea, clasped the children in their armsstill closer, and cried--"My darling, you shall be saved."

  Philip stood upon the stern-sheets to survey the land, and he had thesatisfaction of finding that it was not five miles distant and a ray ofhope warmed his heart. The breeze now had gradually increased, andrippled the water. The quarte
r from which the wind came was neitherfavourable nor adverse, being on the beam. Had they had sails for theboats, it would have been otherwise, but they had been stowed away, andcould not be procured. The sight of land naturally rejoiced them all,and the seamen in the boat cheered, and double-banked the oars, toincrease their way; but the towing of a large raft sunk under water wasno easy task; and they could not, with all their exertions, advance morethan half a mile an hour.

  Until noon they continued their exertions not without success; they werenot three miles from the land; but, as the sun passed the meridian achange took place; the breeze blew strong; the swell of the sea roserapidly; and the raft was often so deeply immersed in the waves as toalarm them for the safety of those upon her. Their way wasproportionably retarded, and by three o'clock they had not gained half amile from where they had been at noon. The men not having hadrefreshment of any kind during the labour and excitement of so manyhours, began to flag in their exertions. The wish for water wasexpressed by all--from the child who appealed to its mother, to theseaman who strained at the oar. Philip did all he could to encouragethe men but finding themselves so near to the land, and so overcome withfatigue, and that the raft in tow would not allow them to approach theirhaven they murmured, and talked of the necessity of casting loose theraft and looking out for themselves. A feeling of self prevailed, andthey were mutinous; but Philip expostulated with them, and out ofrespect for him, they continued their exertions for another hour, when acircumstance occurred which decided the question, upon which they hadrecommenced a debate.

  The increased swell and the fresh breeze had so beat about and tossedthe raft, that it was with difficulty, for some time, that its occupantscould hold themselves on it. A loud shout, mingled with screams,attracted the attention of those in the boats, and Philip looking back,perceived that the lashings of the raft had yielded to the force of thewaves, and that it had separated amidship. The scene was agonising;husbands were separated from their wives and children--each floatingaway from each other--for the part of the raft which was still towed bythe boats had already left the other far astern. The women rose up andscreamed, and held up their children; some, more frantic, dashed intothe water between them, and attempted to gain the floating wreck uponwhich their husbands stood, and sank before they could be assisted. Butthe horror increased--one lashing having given way, all the rest soonfollowed; and, before the boats could turn and give assistance, the seawas strewed with the spars which composed the raft, with men, women, andchildren clinging to them. Loud were the yells of despair, and theshrieks of the women, as they embraced their offspring, and inattempting to save them were lost themselves. The spars of the raftstill close together, were hurled one upon the other by the swell, andmany found death by being jammed between them. Although all the boatshastened to their assistance, there was so much difficulty and danger inforcing them between the spars, that but few were saved, and even thosefew were more than the boats could well take in. The seamen and a fewsoldiers were picked up, but all the females and the children had sunkbeneath the waves.

  The effect of this catastrophe may be imagined, but hardly described.The seamen who had debated as to casting them adrift to perish, wept asthey pulled towards the shore. Philip was overcome, he covered hisface, and remained for some time without giving directions, and heedlessof what passed.

  It was now five o'clock in the evening; the boats had cast off thetow-lines and vied with each other in their exertions. Before the sunhad set, they all had arrived at the beach, and were safely landed inthe little sand bay into which they had steered; for the wind was offthe shore and there was no surf. The boats were hauled up, and theexhausted men lay down on the sands, till warm with the heat of the sun,and forgetting that they had neither eaten nor drunk for so long a time,they were soon fast asleep. Captain Barentz, Philip, and Krantz; assoon as they had seen the boats secured, held a short consultation, andwere then glad to follow the example of the seamen; harassed and wornout with the fatigue of the last twenty-four hours, their senses weresoon drowned in oblivion.

  For many hours they all slept soundly, dreamt of water, and awoke to thesad reality that they were tormented with thirst, and were on a sandyheath with the salt waves mocking them; but they reflected how many oftheir late companions had been swallowed up, and felt thankful that theyhad been spared. It was early dawn when they all rose from the formswhich they had impressed on the yielding sand; and by the directions ofPhilip, they separated in every direction, to look for the means ofquenching their agony of thirst. As they proceeded over sand-hills,they found growing in the sand a low spongy-leaf sort of shrub,something like what in our greenhouses is termed the ice-plant; thethick leaves of which were covered with large drops of dew. They sankdown on their knees, and proceeded from one to the other licking off themoisture which was abundant, and soon felt a temporary relief. Theycontinued their search till noon without success, and hunger was nowadded to their thirst; they then returned to the beach to ascertain iftheir companions had been more successful. They had also quenched theirthirst with the dew of heaven but had found no water or means ofsubsistence; but some of them had eaten the leaves of the plant whichhad contained the dew in the morning, and had found them, although acid,full of watery sap and grateful to the palate. The plant in question isthe one provided by bounteous Providence for the support of the cameland other beasts in the arid desert, only to be found there, anddevoured by all ruminating animals with avidity. By the advice ofPhilip they collected a quantity of this plant and put it into theboats, and then launched.

  They were not more than fifty miles from Table Bay; and although theyhad no sails, the wind was in their favour. Philip pointed out to themhow useless it was to remain, when before morning they would, in allprobability arrive at where they would obtain all they required. Theadvice was approved of and acted upon; the boats were shoved off and theoars resumed. So tired and exhausted were the men, that their oarsdipped mechanically into the water, for there was no strength left to beapplied; it was not until the next morning at daylight, that they hadarrived opposite False Bay, and they had still many miles to pull. Thewind in their favour had done almost all--the men could do little ornothing.

  Encouraged, however, by the sight of land which they knew, they rallied;and about noon they pulled, exhausted, to the beach at the bottom ofTable Bay, near to which were the houses, and the fort protecting thesettlers, who had for some few years resided there. They landed closeto where a broad rivulet at that season (but a torrent in the winter)poured its stream into the bay. At the sight of fresh water, some ofthe men dropped their oars, threw themselves into the sea when out oftheir depth--others when the water was above their waists--yet they didnot arrive so soon as those who waited till the boat struck the beachand jumped out upon dry land. And then they threw themselves into therivulet, which coursed over the shingle, about five or six inches indepth allowing the refreshing stream to pour into their mouths till theycould receive no more, immersing their hot hands, and rolling in it withdelight.

  Despots and fanatics have exerted their ingenuity to invent torments fortheir victims--how useless--the rack, the boot, tire,--all that theyhave imagined are not to be compared to the torture of extreme thirst.In the extremity of agony the sufferers cry for water, and it is notrefused: they might have spared themselves their refined ingenuity oftorment, and the disgusting exhibition of it, had they only confined theprisoner in his cell, and refused him _water_.

  As soon as they satisfied the most pressing of all wants, they rosedripping from the stream, and walked up to the houses of the factory;the inhabitants of which, perceiving that boats had landed when therewas no vessel in the bay, naturally concluded that some disaster hadhappened, and were walking down to meet them. Their tragical historywas soon told. The thirty-six men that stood before them were all thatwere left of nearly three hundred souls embarked, and they had been morethan two days without food. At this intimation no further questionswere asked
by the considerate settlers, until the hunger of thesufferers had been appeased when the narrative of their sufferings wasfully detailed by Philip and Krantz.

  "I have an idea that I have seen you before," observed one of thesettlers. "Did you come on shore when the fleet anchored?"

  "I did not," replied Philip; "but I have been here."

  "I recollect now," replied the man; "you were the only survivor of theTer Schilling, which was lost in False Bay."

  "Not the only survivor," replied Philip; "I thought so myself; but Iafterwards met the pilot, a one-eyed man, of the name of Schriften, whowas my shipmate: he must have arrived here after me. You saw him, ofcourse?"

  "No, I did not. No one belonging to the Ter Schilling ever came hereafter you; for I have been a settler here ever since, and it is notlikely that I should forget such a circumstance."

  "He must, then, have returned to Holland by some other means."

  "I know not how. Our ships never go near the coast after they leave thebay; it is too dangerous."

  "Nevertheless, I saw him," replied Philip, musing.

  "If you saw him, that is sufficient; perhaps some vessel had been blowndown to the eastern side, and picked him up; but the natives in thatpart are not likely to have spared the life of a European. The Caffresare a cruel people."

  The information that Schriften had not been seen at the Cape was asubject of meditation to Philip. He had always had an idea as thereader knows, that there was something supernatural about the man; andthis opinion was corroborated by the report of the settler.

  We must pass over the space of two months during which the wreckedseamen were treated with kindness by the settlers, and at the expirationof which a small brig arrived at the bay, and took in refreshments: shewas homeward bound, with a full cargo, and being chartered by theCompany, could not refuse to receive on board the crew of the VrowKaterina. Philip, Krantz, and the seamen embarked; but Captain Barentzremained behind to settle at the Cape.

  "Should I go home," said he to Philip, who argued with him, "I havenothing in the world to return for. I have no wife--no children. I hadbut one dear object, my Vrow Katerina, who was my wife, my child, myeverything;--she is gone, and I never shall find another vessel likeher; and if I could, I should not love it as I did her. No, myaffections are buried with her,--are entombed in the deep sea. Howbeautifully she burnt!--she went out of the world like a phoenix, as shewas. No! no! I will be faithful to her--I will send for what littlemoney I have, and live as near to her tomb as I can--I never shallforget her as long as I live. I shall mourn over her, and `VrowKaterina,' when I die, will be found engraven on my heart."

  Philip could not help wishing that his affections had been fixed upon amore deserving object, as then, probably, the tragical loss had nottaken place; but he changed the subject, feeling that, being no sailor,Captain Barentz was much better on shore than in the command of avessel. They shook hands and parted--Philip promising to executeBarentz's commission, which was to turn his money into articles mostuseful to a settler, and have them sent out by the first fleet whichshould sail from the Zuyder Zee. But this commission it was notPhilip's good fortune to execute. The brig, named the Wilhelmina sailedand soon arrived at St. Helena. After watering she proceeded on hervoyage. They had made the Western Isles, and Philip was consolinghimself with the anticipation of soon joining his Amine, when to thenorthward of the islands, they met with a furious gale before which theywere obliged to scud for many days, with the vessel's head to thesouth-east; and as the wind abated, and they were able to haul to it,they fell in with a Dutch fleet of five vessels, commanded by anadmiral, which had left Amsterdam more than two months, and had beenbuffeted about by contrary gales for the major part of that period.Cold, fatigue, and bad provisions, had brought on the scurvy; and theships were so weakly manned, that they could hardly navigate them. Whenthe captain of the Wilhelmina reported to the admiral that he had partof the crew of the Vrow Katerina on board, he was ordered to send themimmediately to assist in navigating his crippled fleet. Remonstrancewas useless. Philip had but time to write to Amine, acquainting herwith his misfortunes and disappointment; and, confiding the letter tohis wife, as well as his narrative of the loss of the Vrow Katerina forthe directors, to the charge of the captain of the Wilhelmina, hehastened to pack up his effects, and repaired on board of the admiral'sship with Krantz and the crew. To them were added six of the menbelonging to to Wilhelmina, whom the admiral insisted on retaining; andthe brig, having received the admiral's despatches, was then permittedto continue her voyage.

  Perhaps there is nothing more trying to the seaman's feelings than beingunexpectedly forced to recommence another series of trials, at the verytime when they anticipate repose from their former; yet how often doesthis happen! Philip was melancholy. "It is my destiny," thought he,using the words of Amine, "and why should I not submit?" Krantz wasfurious, and the seamen discontented and mutinous; but it was useless.Might is right on the vast ocean, where there is no appeal--no trial orinjunction to be obtained.

  But hard as their case appeared to them, the admiral was fully justifiedin his proceeding. His ships were almost unmanageable with the fewhands who could still perform their duty; and this small increase ofphysical power might be the means of saving hundreds who lay helpless intheir hammocks. In his own vessel, the Lion which was manned with twohundred and fifty men when she sailed from Amsterdam, there were notmore than seventy capable of doing duty; and the other ships hadsuffered in proportion.

  The first captain of the Lion was dead, the second captain in hishammock, and the admiral had no one to assist him but the mates of thevessel, some of whom crawled up to their duty more dead than alive. Theship of the second in command, the Dort, was even in a more deplorableplight. The commodore was dead; the first captain was still doing hisduty; but he had but one more officer capable of remaining on deck.

  The admiral sent for Philip into his cabin, and having heard hisnarrative of the loss of the Vrow Katerina, he ordered him to go onboard the commodore's ship as captain, giving the rank of commodore tothe captain at present on board of her; Krantz was retained on board hisown vessel, as second captain; for by Philip's narrative, the admiralperceived at once that they were both good officers and brave men.