Chapter 2

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_ CHAPTER TWO.

The calm which I described at the commencement of my narrative had continued for many hours, and when the sun sank beneath the horizon there was not the slightest sign of a coming breeze. It was my first watch, and before Harry went below he charged me to keep a careful look-out, and to call him should there be any sign of a change of weather. The schooner still floated motionless on the water; scarcely a sound was heard, except the cheeping of the main boom, and the low voices of the men forward, as they passed the watch spinning their oft-told yarns to each other.

I slowly paced the deck, enjoying the comparative coolness of the night, after the intense heat of the day. The stars in the southern hemisphere were shining brilliantly overhead, reflected in the mirror-like ocean. The watch at length were silent, and had apparently dropped off to sleep, though I could see the figure of the man on the look-out as he paced up and down or leaned over the bulwarks. Suddenly, the stillness was broken by a dull splash. I started; it seemed to me as if some one had fallen overboard, but it was only one of the monsters of the deep poking its snout for an instant above the surface, and when I looked over the side it had disappeared. Occasionally I heard similar sounds at various distances. I had some difficulty in keeping myself awake, though by continuing my walk I was able to do so; but I was not sorry when the old mate turned out, without being called, to relieve me.

"We have not got a breeze yet," I observed as he came on deck.

"No, Master Ned, and we shan't get one during my watch either; and maybe not when the sun is up again," he answered.

Tom was right. When I came on deck the next morning the sea was as calm as before. Though it appeared impossible that we could have moved our position, I was greatly surprised, on looking away to the westward, to see what I at first took to be the masts of a vessel rising above the horizon. I pointed them out to my brother who had just come on deck. He told me to go aloft with a telescope and examine them more minutely. I then discovered that they were trees growing on a small island, apparently cocoanuts, or palms of some sort. Beyond, to the south and west, were several islands of greater elevation, some blue and indistinct, but others appeared to be covered with trees like the nearer one, while between us and them extended from north to south a line of white surf distinctly marked on the blue ocean. On reporting to Harry what I had seen, he said that the surf showed the existence of a barrier reef surrounding the islands. "We may find a passage through it, but sometimes these reefs extend for miles without an opening through them. A strong current must be setting from the eastward towards it, or we should not have been drawn so far during the night, for certainly there was no appearance of an island in that direction at sundown."

We soon had convincing proof that Harry was right in his conjecture. There could be no doubt that a current was setting us towards the land, for the trees gradually rose higher and higher above the water, and at length we could see them from the deck, while the white line of surf breaking on the reef became more and more distinct. At the same time a slowly moving, at first scarcely perceptible swell, which Fanny called the breathing of the ocean, passed ever and anon under the vessel, lifting her so gently that the sails remained as motionless as before. It was difficult indeed to discover that there was any movement in the mirror-like surface of the deep, and yet we could feel the deck rise and fall under our feet. The awning was rigged, and Mary and Fanny were seated in their easy-chairs under it, Mary reading aloud while her sister worked. Nat, who had placed himself near them, cross-legged on a grating, to listen, with a marline-spike and a piece of rope, was practising the art of splicing, in which he had made fair progress. "I say, Ned, I wish you would show me how to work a Turk's head," he exclaimed.

I went to him and did as he asked me. This made Mary stop reading; and Fanny, looking out towards the island, remarked, "How near we are getting. I am so glad, for I want to see a real coral island, and that of course is one. I suppose we shall anchor when we get close to it, and be able to go on shore." Harry, who overheard her, made no reply, but looked unusually grave, and told me to bring the chart from below. Spreading it out on the companion-hatch, we again, for the third or fourth time, gave a careful look at it.

"I cannot understand the set of this current," he said. "It probably sweeps round the island. But we are being carried much closer than I like to be in so perfect a calm. If we get a breeze it will be all right, but--"

Just then the sails gave several loud flaps, as if some one had shaken them out, and the schooner rolled now to one side, now to the other. Her head had moved so as to bring the swell abeam. Once having begun, she went on making the same unpleasant movements. It was evident that the swell had increased.

"Is there no way to stop her from doing that?" asked Mary.

"Not till the wind fills her sails," answered Harry. "I hope, however, that we shall get a breeze before long."

Harry did not say this in a very cheerful tone. He soon afterwards beckoned Tom Platt to him, and I saw them talking earnestly together for some minutes. I joined them. They were discussing the probable set of the current, which was at present sweeping us at the rate of at least three knots an hour towards the reef.

"We might keep her off it, at all events, until a breeze springs up," remarked Tom.

"We'll have the boats out, then, and do our best," said my brother, and he gave the order "Out boats."

We carried two boats on the davits, but as they were too light to be of much service, we hoisted out the long-boat, which was stowed amidships. We also lowered one of the gigs. The two boats were at once made fast to the tow-line. The men gave way, and the schooner's head was kept off from the threatening reef, against which the sea was breaking with tremendous force. The men bent to their oars, for they knew the danger as well as we did.

We all watched the reef with anxious eyes. Should the vessel be driven against it, we should, in a few seconds, we well knew, be dashed to pieces; and, though we might escape in the boats before that catastrophe occurred, we should be left to make a long voyage before we could reach any civilised people. All around us were islands, most of them, we had reason to fear, inhabited by treacherous and blood-thirsty savages.

We, of course, did not express our anxiety to the ladies, who, however, I thought, began to suspect that the vessel was in danger, although they said nothing. The men had been pulling fully an hour against the current, and yet, as I looked at the reef, I could not help acknowledging to myself that the vessel was nearer than at first. The swell, at the same time, began to increase, and we could now hear the roar of the breakers as they dashed against the wall of coral which interrupted their progress.

"We'll send the other boat ahead, Platt," said my brother.

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Tom; and he and I with the two remaining men lowered her, and, jumping in, joined our shipmates in towing, leaving only my brother with Dick and Nat to take charge of the vessel. He now ordered us to pull across the current, in the hopes of thus in time getting out of it. We all pulled away with a will, making the schooner move faster through the water than she had done for many hours.

"We must manage it somehow," shouted Tom to the other boats. "Give way, lads--give way. We shall soon be clear of the current."

It was of little use urging the men, as they were already straining every nerve. My brother walked the deck, stopping every now and then, casting his eyes frequently around the horizon in the hopes of discovering signs of a coming breeze. Then he would look towards the reef, but there was nothing encouraging to be seen in that direction. Still Tom shouted every now and then, "Pull away, lads--pull away!"

"We are pulling, mate, as hard as we can," answered the men from the other boats.

If we had any doubts of it before it was now clear enough that an unusually strong current was setting us towards the reef, even faster than we could pull away from it. Whenever the men showed any signs of relaxing their efforts Harry came to the bows and cheered them on, leaving Dick to steer. It was somewhat trying work for all of us, for the hot sun was beating down on our heads, the perspiration streaming from every pore; but our lives depended upon our exertions, and pull we must to the last moment. I heard some of the men talking of going alongside the schooner and asking the captain for a glass of grog apiece.

"Don't be thinking of that, lads," cried Tom. "It would be so much precious time lost. We can pull well enough if we have the will. The grog would not give you any real strength, and you'd be as thirsty as before a few minutes afterwards. Can't one of you strike up a tune, and see if that don't help us along."

There was no response to this appeal, so Tom himself at once began shouting a no very melodious ditty. First one man joined in, then another and another, until the whole of the boats' crews were singing at the top of their voices. It appeared to me that the vessel was moving somewhat faster than before through the water, but looking towards the wall of foam that seemed no further off. Still we knew that our efforts were of use, as we thus considerably delayed the destruction which awaited our vessel should she once get within the power of the breakers. Hour after hour passed by. The swell had increased, and, combined with the current, made our task still more difficult, but Harry had too much at stake to let any consideration for our fatigue induce him to allow us to rest for a moment. "Pull on, lads, pull on," he shouted. "We shall have the breeze before long, and we'll not let the schooner be cast away."

The roar of the breakers sounded in our ears between each dip of the oars. I looked round, but no sign of a breeze could I discover. My heart sank within me as I thought of how Harry must be _feeling_ with the dear ones under his charge in so great a peril. As I again looked towards the reef it seemed that, since we could not tow the vessel off, no power could save her. I knew that the depth of water close up to these coral reefs is generally so great that there would not be a possibility of anchoring, nor did I see any opening through which we could pass and get into smooth water.

At last Harry shouted out, "Mr Platt, in the second gig, come alongside and help trim sails." We at once obeyed him.

"What do you think we shall get out of that, Platt," he asked, pointing to a small cloud which was seen rising above the horizon.

"A stiffish breeze, to my mind, and I hope we shall get it before long," answered Tom.

We at once trimmed sails, and while we were so employed I saw several cats'-paws playing over the surface. The sails filled.

"Let the boats come alongside, and we'll hoist them in before the breeze catches us," cried Harry. "We shall do now, without their help, I hope."

This was speedily done, but scarcely had we secured the larger boat, the first gig having already been hoisted on board, than the wind filling our canvas, the vessel heeled over almost to her gunwale. But the danger was not past, we had still that fearful wall of surf under our lee. It would be no easy matter to beat off it.

The awning had been quickly unrigged, and the schooner, with as much canvas as she could bear, was tearing through the fast rising seas. We stood on, still nearing the reef. Old Tom went to the helm. The wind increasing, the vessel heeled over before it, but it would not do to shorten sail. The men were at their stations.

"We'll go about, Platt, and see if she'll do better on the other tack," said Harry. "Helm's a lee!" About she came, but scarcely had she gathered way when a more furious blast than before laid her over. I looked aloft--the top masts were bending like willow wands. I feared every instant that they would go, but it was not a moment to shorten sail. Presently the wind headed us, and we had once more to go about. We now stood on almost parallel with the reef, Tom watching for every slight variation of the wind to edge the schooner off it. All this time, though the current no longer carried us towards the reef, the heavy swell rolling in threatened to set us on it. Night was approaching. It would add greatly to the danger of our position. The ladies had hitherto remained on deck, fully aware of our peril, but showing no signs of fear. Harry, who from the moment the gale sprang up had stood holding on to the weather backstay, now watching the canvas, now the fast rising seas, urged them and Nat to go below.

"I will summon you, if necessary," he said, in a calm tone. "But we will hope for the best. Remain in the cabin, and keep your cloaks and hats ready to put on."

They went without remonstrance. I helped them down the companion-ladder.

"Is there much danger, do you think, Ned?" asked Mary. "Harry seems unusually grave."

"We must, as he says, hope for the best," I answered, though I myself knew that the danger was imminent. Should a spar go or the gale increase, there would be but scant time, before the schooner would be among the breakers, to get into the boats; and even should we escape in them, would they live in that stormy sea? I saw Mary and Fanny kneel down at the sofa as I left the cabin, and Mary drawing Nat to her side.

"Their prayers will help us," I thought, as I sprang on deck.

The wind was increasing, the foam-topped seas rolled in quick succession towards us, the sky to windward looked threatening in the extreme; that terrible wall of foam loomed higher through the gloom of night. Still, as long as the schooner's head could be kept turned away from the reef, we might hope to claw off from it. The chart had shown us that a reef existed, but its form was indistinctly marked. Hitherto we had found it running in a direct line, north and south, but it might suddenly trend to the east, and if so, without a moment's warning, we might be upon it. Harry, knowing this, had stationed two of the men with the sharpest sight forward, to look out for breakers ahead, that should they be seen, we might go about and have a chance of escaping them; but, owing to the heavy sea rolling in, there was a great risk of the schooner missing stays, and should she do so, our fate would be sealed: there, would be no time to get the boats out before she would be among the breakers. Harry now told me to go forward to assist the other men on the look-out.

"We'll not go about, if we can help it," he said. "The water is deep close up to the reef, and a miss is as good as a mile."

Not a word was spoken; the crew were at their stations ready to execute the orders they might receive. The increased roar of the ceaseless breakers showed me that we were nearer than hitherto, though the vessel was tearing along through the seas at her fastest speed, taking the water over the bows in dense showers which often prevented me from seeing ahead.

"Shall we never get to the end of this terrible reef?" I said to myself. Just then I saw close on the starboard bow the snowy wall of surf. "Luff! Luff all you can!" I shouted out, my cry being echoed by the men. The next moment we appeared to be in the very midst of the seething waters, which fell foaming down on our deck. I gave up all for lost, but again the schooner dashed on and we were free. The reef was yet, however, on our starboard side, but as I peered through the darkness I observed a gap in the wall of foam. I ran aft to Harry. He had seen it.

"We must venture through," he said. "Square away the fore-yard. Ease off the main-sheet; up with the helm."

His orders were obeyed, while he hurried aft to direct Tom how to steer. The hissing breakers rose on either hand not twenty fathoms from the vessel; the seas roared up astern; now a huge billow lifted us, and then down we glided into comparatively smooth water.

"Stand by to shorten sail!" shouted Harry. "Port the helm!"

"Port it is," cried Tom.

The headsails were handed, the schooner was rounded to, the anchor let go, and she rode in safety inside the reef. Harry, with a light heart, sprang below to assure his wife and her sister that the danger was past. We could but dimly make out the low shore on the other side of the lagoon; but what was the character of the island, or whether or not it was inhabited, we could not tell. The wind was still blowing with great force, the breakers dashing with terrific roars against the reef outside of us, so that at any moment we might be driven from our anchor. We both of us therefore intended to stay on deck during the remainder of the night, to be ready should any accident occur. We, however, went down to supper, for which we were very ready, as we had eaten nothing since the commencement of the gale. Very pleasant the cabin looked after the gloomy deck, with Mary and Fanny seated at the table, and the swinging lamp shedding a bright light around. It was difficult to believe that not many minutes before there was a fearful prospect of our vessel being dashed to pieces on the rocks. We could, however, remain below but a very short time, and had again to hurry on deck.

"I'm afraid she's dragging her anchor, sir," said Tom, who was getting a lead line ready to ascertain whether this was the case.

The lead was dropped to the bottom, the line ran out slowly, showing that his surmise was correct. More cable was paid out in the hope of bringing her up. We looked anxiously astern, fearing that she might strike on some mass of coral between us and the shore. At length, to our great relief, the line hung up and down, showing that the anchor was holding. The night passed slowly on. Seldom have I more anxiously wished for the return of day. _

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