CHAPTER XXII.
THE GREAT CYCLONE.
It was on the last day of September that the combined fleets--to thenumber of a hundred and forty ships--weighed anchor and set sail. Thesky was dark and threatening as they left Terceira, and they had notwell got out of sight of the island when a most terrible storm arose.The sea was suddenly whipped up into great mountainous waves, the wind,which seemed to come from all quarters at once, howled and shrieked likea thousand furies. The vast fleet was dispersed, each galleon being leftto take care of itself. Some tried to put back to Terceira, othersendeavoured to make for the island of St. Michael's. The whole seabetween these two islands was dotted over with struggling ships. It wassuch a storm as comes only once in a hundred years, and its effects wereterrible. Out of the hundred and forty galleons no more thanthree-and-thirty ever arrived in Spain and Portugal. All the rest werecast upon the rocky ribs of the islands or were overwhelmed in the sea.
It was off the island of Terceira that the _Revenge_--or what remainedof her--came to her end. She had been taken out in tow by the _SanAndrea_ galleon, but when the tempest rose to its height she was castoff and abandoned to her fate. Driven by the tremendous waves upon theoutlying rocks, she was shattered to splinters, so that not a trace ofher remained but a few balks of her stout oaken timbers that drifted asflotsam to the beach. There had been seventy men on board of her, manyof them Spaniards, some few of them captive Englishmen. Among the latterwere Jacob Hartop and Edward Webbe. Only one man reached the islandalive, and he, being sorely hurt, had but time to tell his tale to theislanders and be shriven before he died.
Roland Grenville, who had been drafted on board the _San Andrea_, wasthe only one of our friends who was not shipwrecked. He was taken toLisbon, where, after having endured great privations in prison (whereofmuch might be told), he fell in with the gallant Captain Monson, escapedto Cadiz, was again imprisoned, and finally rescued by the Earl of Essexon the occasion of the famous expedition against that Spanishstronghold.
For three days the _Santa Maria_ was buffeted about in the storm. Fromher watery decks Gilbert Oglander and Timothy Trollope saw many agalleon go down, and not only such galleons as had been of Don Alonzo DeBassan's fleet, but many others of the treasure-ships, which took withthem to the bottom their wealthy cargoes of silver and gold. On themorning of the fourth day, when the tempest was at its height, she fellin with the flag-ship, whose foremast was gone by the board, and whosesails were but so many ragged ribbons flying from her yards. Her rudderwas gone, and she was helpless. Nor was the _Santa Maria_ in any bettercase, for only her main-mast was standing, and the great waves washedover her, threatening to swamp her at every moment. The two ships cameclose together, and their white-faced and frightened seamen could seeeach other's faces from deck to deck. They drew apart when the deeperdarkness of night came on, but in the morning they were again withinsight, beating about in the perilous channel between the islands of St.George and Graciosa.
There was a slight lull in the storm in the afternoon, and the commanderof the _Santa Maria_ thought he might succeed in gaining some shelterunder the lee of the island of Graciosa. He had his ship put about, andapproaching the _St. Paul_ attempted to cross her bows, but a suddenchange in the wind drove him to leeward, and before anyone on boardrealized their peril the two vessels crashed together with fearfulforce. So great was the impact that Don Alonzo's galleon heeled overuntil her larboard bulwarks were for a moment under water. But sherighted herself again and sailed on, leaving many of her men who hadbeen upon her open decks floundering in the sea. Among these was PhilipOglander.
Philip was a good swimmer, and when he rose to the surface he struckout, shook the water from his dripping hair, and looked around. His ownship was now drawing away, forced onward by the storm. He turned and sawthe high bows of the _Santa Maria_ towering above him, with her timbersbroken and wrecked, and the water pouring into the yawning gap. Thegalleon plunged forward, staggered, rolled, then plunged forward againwith her bow buried deep in a sea of foam. She did not lift herself now,but first her forward part sank lower and lower, the waves swept overher, seeming to rejoice in their conquest, and presently, with a greatgurgling sound, the vessel disappeared.
Gilbert and Timothy had been on her mid-deck when the two ships crashedtogether. They were standing abaft her thick main-mast, with their armslinked. Timothy, watching the ship's onward course and noting theposition of the flag-ship, had foreseen the collision.
"Look you," said he, gripping Gilbert's arm more tightly, "we shallstrike her. Be ready, master; and if we should founder, cling to me, Iimplore you." And then, even as he spoke, the two ships crashedtogether, and the lads were thrown off their feet. Timothy flung hisarms around Gilbert and held him. They lay there waiting. They felt thedeck trembling beneath them, swaying to and fro.
"We are sinking!" cried Timothy. And for many moments--moments thatseemed like hours of suspense--he was silent. Suddenly there was a greatbreaking of timber. He saw the white foam leaping up over the steepincline of the deck. The tall main-mast swayed over and fell with acrash that was like a crack of thunder. And then all was dark, and hefelt himself being drawn below in the vortex with the sinking ship.
Still clinging to his companion, he opened his eyes. The water was allblack about him. He moved his legs, trying to force himself upward.Soon he began to rise; the darkness became less dense, it grew fromblack to dark green, and then to a lighter green, and at last thedaylight burst once more upon him. Striking out with his one free arm hekept himself afloat, then disengaged himself from Gilbert and took afresh hold of the lad, keeping his head up above the water. Gilbert'seyes greeted him with recognition.
"Hold on, hold on to me!" cried Timothy, as a great wave swept overthem, carrying with it a huge spar of wreckage.
The spar threatened to fall down upon Gilbert's head, but the waves keptit buoyant. Timothy stretched forth his arm and gripped some floatingcordage, and presently drew himself towards the drifting spar, which hefound to be the galleon's main-mast.
"Lay hold on't!" he cried. And Gilbert, releasing his grip of Timothy'sbelt, put his hand upon the mast, and, with infinite trouble and aftermany failures, at last succeeded in climbing up and getting astride ofit, while Timothy, working his way along to its end, also climbed up.
When they were both together again in comparative safety, they lookedabout them in the hope of saving some of the Spaniards.
"There is one!" cried Gilbert, as he saw a woolly black head appearwithin a couple of yards of him. "'Tis Jose, the blackamoor."
And Timothy stretched forth his leg for the negro, who speedily caughtit and clambered up. A second and a third man appeared, but both weretoo far off to be helped, and as neither could swim they were quicklylost to sight.
It was at this juncture that Philip Oglander, swimming about in searchof some wreckage by which he might hope to save himself, caught sight ofthe negro Jose. Timothy and Gilbert had their backs to him; he only sawthat they were human figures, and that they were for the time being on asecure refuge. Swimming towards Jose, he at last attracted the negro'sattention. The noise of the wind and waves was too great for a voice tobe heard, and he climbed upon the floating mast without either Gilbertor Timothy's knowledge. It was, indeed, as much as any one of them coulddo to retain his balance and keep himself from being washed off, for theponderous log upon which they rested rolled heavily upon the waves, andat times either plunged into them or was itself by them thrown upwardinto the air, and those who rode upon it might better have been upon amad horse, so difficult was it to keep a seat. Cold and hungry and palewith the terror of their situation, the boys clung tightly with legs andarms, hoping only that God would bring them out of their peril.
The night came on and darkness deepened their distresses. Timothy, whowas in front of Gilbert, had not thus far dared to turn round and facehim, but he had worked his way backward so that Gilbert might cling tohim, and the while t
he boy's hand touched him he was comforted. In thedarkness of the night Gilbert heard what he thought was a human cry--asin truth it was,--and putting his lips to Timothy's ear he called out:
"He hath fallen off! Jose hath fallen off!"
But later he felt that someone was moving behind him, and again he spoketo Timothy.
"Nay, I mistook," said he; "he is still with us."
Timothy made no response, satisfied only that his companion was able totake even so much interest in anything apart from the thought of his ownimmediate danger.
The storm subsided somewhat during the early morning. The spar floatedmore easily, and when a faint streak of gray light appeared in theeastern sky, Timothy ventured to alter his position and bring himselfround face to face with Gilbert. Glancing over Gilbert's shoulder, hesaw that the negro--or what he supposed to be the figure of thenegro--was still there, lying with his head upon his hands, and hishands gripping a strand of thick rope that was coiled about the mast. Asthe light grew stronger, however, he was astonished to notice that thosehands were not black, and that where he had expected to see a head ofwoolly black hair there was a head whose hair was long and straight.Further scrutiny revealed to him the fact that through a long rent intheir companion's jerkin there was a gleam of white skin. He waiteduntil the coming daylight should enable him to discover more of thismystery, and as yet he said nothing to Gilbert.
At last the dawn broke, and with its coming Timothy saw the pale haggardface of Philip Oglander turned towards him, with the dark hollow eyesgleaming in startled recognition.
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