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Peter the Whaler, a novel by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 10 |
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_ CHAPTER TEN. Fortunately a star had appeared in a break of the clouds, and by that we continued steering the same course as before. Once more we were alone on the world of waters, and in a worse condition than ever; for we had now no boats, and the sea was too high to permit us to hope for safety on a raft. Weary and sad were the hours till dawn returned. Often did I wish that I had followed my father's counsels, and could have remained at home. With aching eyes, as the pale light of the dull grey morning appeared, we looked out ahead for the _Mary_. Not a sail was to be seen from the deck. The lead-coloured ocean, heaving with foam-topped waves, was around us bounded by the horizon. On flew our burning ship before the gale, and we would have set more sail to try and overtake the _Mary_, but we had not strength for it. We steered as near as we could the same course as before. The ship plunged heavily; and as she tore her way through the waves, she rolled her yardarms almost into the water, so that it was difficult to keep the deck without holding on. Nearly at every roll the sea came washing over the deck, and sweeping everything away into the scuppers. One might have supposed that the water would have put out the fire, but it had no effect on it; and it was evident that the coals in the hold were ignited, and that they would go on burning till the ship was under the waves. I had sunk into a sort of stupor, when I heard Mr Bell from aloft hail the deck. I looked up and tried to comprehend what he was saying. It was the joyful intelligence that the _Mary_ was ahead, lying to for us; but I was too much worn out to care much about the matter. We again came up with her; but though the wind had somewhat fallen, the sea was too high to allow a boat to carry us off the wreck. We acquitted the kind master of the _Mary_ of any intention of deserting us. The officer of the watch had fancied that he saw us following, and had not, consequently, shortened sail. Oh that day of horrors, and the still more dreadful night which followed! The fire was gaining on us: every part of the deck was hot, and thick choking smoke issued from numberless crevices. With dismay, too, we saw the boats on which our safety so much depended dragged to pieces, as they towed astern of the _Mary_, as they could not be hoisted on board, and their wrecks were cut adrift. Even the crew, who, more inured to hardships, kept up their spirits the best, could but arouse themselves to take a short trick at the helm. What would we have given, I repeat, for a drop of water! A thousand guineas would willingly have been exchanged for it. The value of riches, and all else for which men toil and toil on while health and strength remain, were becoming as nothing in our sight. One thing alone called any of us to exertion. It was when some wretch, happier, perhaps, than we were, breathed his last, and the shrieks and wails of his relations or friends summoned us to commit his body to the ocean-grave, yawning to receive us all, the living as well as the dead. I must pass over that night. It was far more full of horrors than the last, except that the _Mary_, our only ark of safety, was still in sight. Another dawn came. The gale began to lull. I was near Derrick. I asked him if he thought we had a chance of escape. He lifted his weary head above the bulwarks. "I scarce know, lad," he replied. "The wind may be falling, or it may be gathering strength for a harder blow. It matters little, I guess, to most of us." And he again sunk down wearily on the deck. How anxiously we listened to the wind in the rigging! Again it breezed up. A loud clap was heard. I thought one of the masts had gone by the board; but it was the fore-topsail blown to ribbons. What next might follow we could not tell. The very masts began to shake; and it was evident that the fire had begun to burn their heels. Their working loosened the deck, and allowed more vent for the escape of smoke. There was again a lull. The foam no longer flew from the white-crested waves; gradually they subsided in height. The motion of the ship was less violent, though she still rolled heavily, as if unable to steady herself. We at length began to hope that the final effort of the gale was made. The day wore on--more persons died--the smoke grew thicker, and was seen streaming forth from the cabin windows. Towards evening there was a decided change for the better in the weather, and we saw the people in the _Mary_ making preparations to lower a boat, and to heave the ship to. Another difficulty arose: to enable the boat to come on board, we must likewise stop the way of our ship, but we had not strength to heave her to. We were too far gone to feel even satisfaction as we saw a boat pulling from the _Mary_ towards us. We put down the helm as she came near us, and the ship rounded to. The fresh crew scrambled on board, and, backing our main-topsail, our ship remained steady, a short distance to leeward of the _Mary_. A few of the emigrants were lowered into the boat; some of the crew remained to take care of us, and the remainder returned on board in safety. This experiment having been successful, another boat was lowered, and more of our people taken off. They brought us also a keg of water; and so eager were we for it, that we could scarcely refrain from snatching it from each other, and spilling the contents. It occupied a long time to transfer the emigrants from one ship to the other. They were so utterly unable to help themselves, that they had to be lowered like bales of goods into the boats, and even the seamen were scarcely more active. It was thus dark before all the emigrants were rescued; and, what was worse, the wind again got up, as did the sea, and prevented any communication between the ships. In one respect during that night the condition of those who remained was improved; for we had water to quench our burning thirst, and food to quell our hunger; besides which, a boat's crew of seamen belonging to the _Mary_ gallantly remained by us and navigated the ship, so that we were able to take a sounder rest than we had enjoyed for many days past. Still the flames did not burst forth, and another night and day we continued in that floating furnace. Towards the evening the wind suddenly dropped; and, while the remaining emigrants were being taken off the wreck, it fell a dead calm. The last man to leave the deck of the _Black Swan_ was Mr Bell. He made me and Derrick go down the ship's side just before him. I trust that we felt grateful to Heaven for our deliverance. Scarcely had we left the deck of the _Black Swan_ than the flames burst forth from her hold. They first appeared streaming out of the cabin windows, curling upwards round the taffrail. By this time it was quite dark; and the bright light from the burning wreck cast a ruddy glow on the sails and hull of the _Mary_, and topped the far surrounding waves with a bright tinge of the same hue. Soon the whole poop was on fire, and the triumphant flames began to climb up the mizzen-mast. As the ship lay head to wind, their progress was slow forward, nor did they ascend very rapidly; consequently the mizzen-mast fell before the main-mast was on fire. That shortly, however, followed with a loud crash before they even reached the main-topgallant-yard. Next down came the fore-mast, and the whole hull was a mass of flame. I felt sick at heart as I saw the noble ship thus for ever lost to the use of man. The fire was still raging when, overcome with fatigue and sickness, I sunk on the deck. As the _Mary_ sailed away from her, she was seen like a beacon blazing fiercely in mid-ocean. Long those on deck gazed till the speck of bright light was on a sudden lost to view, and the glow in the sky overhead disappeared. It was when her charred fragments sunk beneath the wave. _ |
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