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Ben Hadden; or, Do Right Whatever Comes Of It, a fiction by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 13. Ben Is Shipwrecked |
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_ Chapter Thirteen. Ben Is Shipwrecked
Several of the officers went at once aloft, to have a look at the stranger. She was not a large vessel, that was certain; she might be one of the slavers. She must be overhauled at all events; all sail was accordingly made on the frigate. The stranger seemed not to have much wind where she lay; the frigate therefore came rapidly up with her. She was soon seen to be a schooner, and pronounced to have a Spanish look about her. The frigate brought the breeze along with her, and as soon as the schooner felt it, she too made all sail, close-hauled, with an evident intention of escaping. This left little doubt of her character. She was a fast-looking craft, but the Ajax was also noted for her speed, and few on board doubted that the schooner would be overtaken. Everybody was eager to come up with her. What a satisfaction it would be to release the poor savage islanders, and many others of whom they had heard! The schooner made every effort to escape, and, at last, kept away, finding how fast her pursuer was on a wind, and endeavoured to run back towards the island, her crew probably expecting to be able to escape among the reefs which surrounded it. Fortunately, the island having been well surveyed, a good chart of it existed on board. Captain Bertram was able to stand close in after her without fear. The Ajax came quickly up after the schooner before the wind. "Try her with a shot, Mr Charlton," said the captain; "but fire high, to injure no one on board." Mr Sponge, the gunner, with alacrity fired one of the bow chasers. The shot was admirably aimed, and the schooner's maintopmast fell over her side. The frigate's crew uttered a shout of satisfaction. The slaver, for so she was, did not wait for another, but instantly hauled down her flag. It was that of Chili. The schooner was forthwith hove up in the wind. This done, two boats were seen to leave her side. Captain Bertram, on this, hove the frigate to, and ordered two boats to be manned and to bring the fugitives back, while two others pulled on board the schooner. Ben was in one of the latter, with the interpreter. The crew gave way with a will, for they were eager to get on board. No one was to be seen on deck as they climbed up the sides, but Tatai's hail was at once answered by shouts from below. The hatches were quickly knocked off, and a number of men and women came rushing up, showing, by evident signs, their joy at being liberated. Their first impulse, however, was to fall down on their knees on the deck, and return thanks to Jehovah for having freed them from the barbarians by whom they had been captured. They knew, from having several times before seen the British flag, that they would be kindly treated. They described through Tatai, in pathetic language, the way that they had been treated after having been captured. They had been ordered not to pray aloud, or to sing, and, when off the farther end of this island, to their grief they heard the voices of several of their countrymen, who had come on board. In vain they shouted to warn them. Some at length heard them, and endeavoured to escape. Many sprang overboard into the sea in the hope of swimming on shore, when the inhuman wretches fired on them and killed several; others were knocked down, and, being recaptured, were forced below to join their poor countrymen. This treatment was more than even the patient islanders could stand. By violent efforts, with the aid of a piece of timber they found below, they forced off the hatch and rushed on deck. Some of them threw themselves into the water in the hopes of swimming on shore, though now far from it. At length, the slaver sailed away from the spot, with her cargo of victims to be offered up at the shrine of Mammon; or, in other words, to be destroyed in the silver mines of Peru. Even then, did these till lately savages curse their oppressors? No; even as they sailed away, torn from home and country, wives and children, to die in a foreign land--when they all knelt down at the usual hour to offer up prayer and praise to the God of love and mercy, who had brought them out of darkness into His marvellous light, they did not omit to pray for their cruel oppressors, that their hearts might be converted, and that they might turn to their Maker and live. Meantime, the boats of the frigate which had gone in chase of the slaver's overtook them, and brought them on board the Ajax. Their guilt was so evident, that Captain Bertram had no doubt about the propriety of detaining them as prisoners. It was necessary, therefore, to send a prize crew to take charge of the schooner. She was called the Andorina (the Swallow). Mr Owen, the third lieutenant of the frigate, was directed to take charge of the prize, to land the natives at the islands from which they had been taken, and then to follow the frigate to Callao. Mr Manners was to go as his mate. Ben and Tom hoped that they would be among those chosen to form her crew, as boys would certainly be required. Ben wished it, because he should thus be able to make more inquiries for Ned at the places they might touch at, and he made bold to tell his wish to Mr Martin, who suggested it to Mr Charlton. The two boys were therefore delighted when their names were called out to go on board the prize. They quickly mustered with the rest of the prize crew, with their bags ready. The captain addressed them kindly before they left the frigate, urged them to maintain discipline, to obey Mr Owen and Mr Manners, and hoped that he should have a good report of them all when they rejoined the frigate. All arrangements being made, the frigate stood to the eastward with the slaver's crew on board, while the schooner made sail for Samoa, Tonga, and Savage Islands. The new crew of the schooner had a long voyage before them, but they were in good spirits; they had an abundance of provisions, having been well supplied by the frigate, in addition to what the schooner had before, and they were engaged in a just and humane cause. It was pleasant to observe the gentle, kind manners of the liberated natives. They were courteous and polite to each other, and they seemed evidently anxious to conform to all the rules and regulations formed for their management. One of them, who had lived some time in the house of a missionary, spoke a little English, and he was thus able to act as interpreter. Although the crew of the slaver had taken away and thrown overboard one or two Bibles and some other small books, which had been found in the girdles of the captives, they were very far from being deprived of all spiritual comfort, for they could nearly all repeat large portions of the Scripture by heart, many of them entire chapters. They would happily pass many hours of each day repeating these to each other, singing hymns, and offering up prayers. Two or three among them, who were elders of their respective churches, also occasionally addressed and exhorted the rest; indeed, it was a pity that their language was not understood by the white men, who might undoubtedly have learned many an important truth from them. Mr Manners, who was, as has been said, a very sincere Christian, took great interest in their proceedings, and got the young native who spoke English, and who was called Marco, to explain what was said. Ben frequently stood by and listened, and then began to pick up a knowledge of the language. Thus several days passed by very pleasantly on board the schooner. It has been remarked that this world is a very good and beautiful world, but it is the people who live in it that are bad. In this case the schooner was a very ordinary vessel, and had till lately been filled with very bad people, and a great deal of misery and suffering had existed on board her. Now she was manned with God-fearing and religious people, and so her whole character was changed, and prayers and songs of praise ascended daily from her decks. The weather, however, was far from satisfactory. The stormy season had set in, and rains and gales of wind might be expected. Mr Owen proved himself a good and careful officer, and, assisted by Mr Manners, was constantly on the watch for the dangers which might befall them. The wind had hitherto been light and contrary, and the schooner had made but little progress. The weather now again became threatening, and caused considerably anxiety to the young officers. It was evident from the look of the sky, and the sudden way in which the sea got up, that another gale was coming on; not so violent, perhaps, as the former, but still requiring every possible preparation to be made for it. The boats and spars, and everything on deck, were doubly secured; the hatches and skylights were fastened down; the topmasts were struck; the lighter sails furled, and storm sails set; and in a short time the schooner was in a state to encounter the expected gale. It came on more gradually than the former one: at first in heavy squalls, and then more and more violently. The sea got up at the same time, and the vessel heeled over to the furious blast Mr Owen and Mr Manners consulted together what course to steer: the schooner could just lie her proper course, and on that course there were no dangers which could not be seen in time, and avoided, as far as they knew. On the other hand, should the gale increase still more, as there was every prospect of its doing, it would be necessary to put her before the wind, as it would be dangerous, if not indeed impossible, to keep her close-hauled as she then was. Should she run for any distance before the gale, she would be carried into a part of the ocean studded thickly with islets. Once among the archipelago, it might be impossible to avoid being dashed on the rock-bound shore of one of them. Here, then, was sufficient cause for anxiety to the young officers. As long as possible, the schooner was kept on a wind, plunging through the seas. Their only other resource was to heave-to; but there was danger in that where neither spars nor rigging could be trusted. The seas came breaking over her bows, and sweeping her decks. Another huge billow, larger and more foam-covered than any of its predecessors, was seen ahead. "Up with the helm, lower the peak, ease away the main-sheet, square away the maintopsail!" cried Mr Owen, with rapid utterance. The crew quickly obeyed his orders. The effect of these orders was to take the pressure off the after-part of the vessel, and round her head flew from the wind and the coming sea. It struck her, however, and from the way it swept along her side, tearing away part of her bulwarks, and doing other damage as it came on board, it was evident that it would have caused far greater disaster had her bow encountered its full force. On she now flew before the hurricane, for such it was rather than a common gale. There was no choice now as to heaving-to. The officers scanned the chart with anxious eyes. They saw, with regret they could scarcely conceal, that, unless the gale should cease, no skill of theirs could save the schooner from destruction, or unless, guided by an unseen Power, she should thread her way amid the labyrinth of islets and reefs ahead of her. Night was coming on. There was no moon. The dark clouds shut out all light from the stars. On flew the schooner. The unfortunate islanders were invited to come on deck, that, should the vessel strike suddenly, they might have some chance of escaping by swimming on shore. The danger was explained to them through Marco. "We are in the hands of Jehovah," was the answer. "He will do with us what He sees best." Through the pitchy darkness the vessel rushed on. More than once the quick ears of the seamen detected, they thought, the well-known sound of breakers; but each time the sound died away to leeward: the vessel must have passed at a distance from them. Hour after hour thus passed by. How all on board longed for daylight! Yet daylight would only enable them to see the threatening danger, scarcely to avoid it. Once more the sound of breakers was heard. This time it was ahead. In vain, with straining eyeballs, the seamen looked into the darkness to discover, if they could, whether the breakers were on the starboard or port bow. All held their breath. The stoutest hearts might then have quailed. The foretopsail was alone set; to have lowered that would have caused the vessel to be pooped, and so more speedily to have sealed her fate. On she flew to destruction. The dreaded crash came. She quivered from stem to stern. Both the masts went by the board, carrying several of the seamen with them, as well as the young commander. Another sea came hissing on astern, threatening to dash the vessel to pieces; but no! it lifted her up, and bore her on its summit far along over the reef. Mr Manners found himself at that awful moment in command of the schooner. He ordered the well to be sounded. It was not necessary; for the water, it was soon evident, was rushing in through numerous large rents made by the sharp coral. Still the vessel drove on, now among rocks, now in clear water. She was, however, rapidly filling. "Out boats!" was the cry. Fortunately these had escaped injury. Again, however, the schooner was exposed to the fury of the sea, which came sweeping round through a passage in the reef. At that moment a sudden panic seized the crew. Ben felt himself grasped by the arm, and dragged into one of the boats which had just been lowered. Five men only were in her. Either intentionally or by accident, the painter was let go, and the boat drifted rapidly away from the sinking vessel. The men searched for the oars, which they supposed to be in the boat; only one was to be found. To return to the schooner was therefore impossible. Their only prospect of safety was to get the boat before the wind with the oar. This was done, and farther and farther away she drifted from the vessel. The men said but little. They regretted being driven away from the schooner without receiving more on board; and Ben heard, with sorrow, that there was but little chance of any of their shipmates being saved. Their own prospects also were gloomy enough. They had no water, no provisions, on board, and one oar alone to guide the boat. One of the most dreadful fates which seamen have sometimes to endure seemed in store for them--to be out on the wide ocean, exposed to the heat of the sun by day and chills by night, without a drop of water to cool their burning thirst. The poor fellows knew too well that this might be their lot; but still they were thankful that they had hitherto escaped the destruction which had overtaken so many of their shipmates. Two or three of the men at a time were employed in baling out the boat, while one steered as well as he could before the seas. Again the sound of breakers was heard: it was right ahead. "It is all up with us!" cried one of the men. "God be merciful to us!" cried another. Scarcely had they spoken, when the boat was lifted on the foaming summit of a sea, the crest of which nearly filled her with water, and down she came with a crash on the rocks, which dashed her to pieces. Ben clung to one of the fragments. The despairing shrieks of his shipmates sounded in his ears, and he felt himself borne onward into smoother water. He clung tightly to the shattered plank, and thought that he saw trees rising before him. It was not fancy. The dawn had broken, and he was drifting along the shore. He could swim well, and felt sure that he could reach it. A few vigorous strokes, and his feet touched the firm sand. He waded up, and sank exhausted on the dry ground. The sun was shining brightly on his head before the shipwrecked lad awoke. He sat up, and, as he recovered his senses, he looked round, hoping to see his companions; but no one was visible. He rose to his feet, and shouted out their names. No reply came to him. He ran along the beach, calling to them; and then discovered that he was on a small island. His voice could, he fancied, have reached from one end to the other. With a sad heart, he found that he was alone--the only human being, as far as he knew, saved from the wreck. _ |
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