Chapter 5. "Iceberg Ahead!"

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_ CHAPTER FIVE. "ICEBERG AHEAD!"

A GALE SPRINGS UP--A DARK NIGHT--SOUND OF BREAKERS--SHIP RUNNING ON AN ICEBERG--THE "RANGER" SCRAPES ALONG THE BERG--PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE-- ENSIGN HOLT'S ALARM--THE CARPENTER REPORTS A LEAK--THE CHAIN-PUMPS RIGGED--THE "RANGER" ON HER BEAM-ENDS--THE MASTS CUT AWAY--RUNNING BEFORE THE GALE--ALL HANDS AT THE PUMPS--THE WEATHER MODERATES--PREPARE TO RIG JURY-MASTS.

Once more a strong breeze had sprung up from the westward, and the ship was making good way through the water.

Though it was the summer time in the southern hemisphere, the weather was very variable; now, when the wind came from the antarctic pole, bitterly cold; or drawing round and blowing from the north, after it had passed over the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, it was soft and balmy.

It was Harry Shafto's morning watch; he had just relieved the second-lieutenant. Willy was for'ard. It was blowing somewhat fresh, and the ship had a reef in her topsails and her courses set. The night was very dark. Willy having just been aroused from a midshipman's sound sleep, was rubbing his eyes to get them clear. Now he peered out ahead into the darkness, now he rubbed them again, and shut and opened them, to satisfy himself that they were in good order. He could not distinguish who was on the forecastle, but he knew by the voice that one of the best men in the ship, Paul Lizard, was by his side.

"I have seen many a dark night, Mr Dicey, but this pretty well beats them all," observed Paul. "It's not one I should like to be caught in on a lee-shore or a strange coast; though out here, in the open sea, there is nothing to fear, as the highway is a pretty wide one, and we are not likely to fall in with any other craft crossing our course."

"Very true," answered Willy; "but there is one thing I have been told to do, and that is to keep a bright look-out, though it may be difficult enough to see an object; even should one be ahead."

"On course, sir," said Paul, "what is our duty must be done, though it would be a hard matter to see the 'David Dunn' of Dover, even if our jibboom were over her taffrail."

"What ship is that?" asked Willy. "I never heard of her."

"The biggest ship that ever was or ever will be, sir," answered Paul, who was fond of a joke. "When she went about going up Channel once, her spanker pretty nigh swept away one of the towers of Calais, while her jibboom run right into Dover Castle."

"She must have been a big ship, then," said Willy.

The voice of the officer of the watch hailing the forecastle put a stop to Paul's wit. "Ay, ay, sir," he answered, in his usual stentorian voice; then he added, "It seems to be growing darker than ever." So Willy thought, but still he tried his best with his sharp young eyes to penetrate the gloom.

"I wish it would clear," observed Willy. "It is dark."

"It couldn't well be darker, sir," said Paul; "to my mind it would be wise to shorten sail, or heave the ship to. The captain knows best, though."

"It is getting very cold, though," said Dicey. "I can feel the difference since the last five minutes."

"I can't say I feel it," said Paul; "but hark, sir; I fancy I heard the sound of breakers."

Willy listened, bending forward in his eagerness. "Yes," he thought he heard a sound, and it seemed to be almost ahead, but yet it seemed to come from a long way off.

"It is only fancy after all," observed Paul. The other men for'ard could hear nothing.

A few minutes passed. "What is that?" exclaimed Willy, with startling energy. "There seems to be a great white wall rising up before us."

"Iceberg ahead!" shouted Paul, and he never hallooed louder in his life, "a little on the starboard bow."

"Starboard the helm," cried Harry from the quarterdeck. "Man the starboard braces. Brace the yards sharp up; call the captain; all hands on deck to save ship." Such were the orders he issued in rapid succession. In an instant the boatswain's whistle and the hoarse bawling of his mates was heard along the lower decks, and the ship, lately so silent and deserted, teemed with life. The crew came tumbling up from below, some with their clothes in their hands; the soldiers quickly followed, hurrying from their berths. Commander Newcombe and the other officers were on deck a few instants after the order to summon them had been given. He now took command, issuing his orders with the calmness of a man well inured to danger. Another voice was heard; it was that of Colonel Morley. "Soldiers, keep to your quarters," he shouted out. The men, who had been rushing on deck, without a murmur obeyed the command.

The danger was indeed imminent. Sheer out of the ocean rose a huge white mountain, directly against which the ship appeared to be running headlong; but, answering her helm, she came up to the wind, though not in sufficient time altogether to avoid the danger. As Willy looked up, he expected to see the yards strike the sides of the iceberg, for such it was. A grating sound was heard: now it seemed as if the ship would be thrown bodily on to the icy mass; still she moved forward; now she heeled over to the wind, the yards again almost touching the frozen cliffs. An active leaper might have sprung on to the berg, could footing have been found. Every moment the crew expected to find their ship held fast by some jutting point, and speedily dashed to pieces; the bravest held their breath, and had there been light, the countenances of those who were wont to laugh at danger might have been seen blanched with terror.

Again and again the ship struck, as she scraped by the berg. It seemed wonderful, indeed, to those ignorant of the cause, that she should continue to move forward, and be driven ever and anon actually away from the ice. This was caused by the undertow, which prevented her from being thrown bodily on to the berg. Not a word was spoken, not an order issued, for all that could be done had been done. All were aware, however, that, even should she scrape clear of the berg, the blows her sides were receiving might at any moment rip them open, and send her helplessly to the bottom of the cold ocean.

The voyager on such an occasion may well exclaim, "Vain is the help of man!"

Harry, with the second-lieutenant, had gone for'ard among the men stationed on the forecastle, all eagerly looking out in the hopes of seeing the extreme end of the berg. Suddenly the white wall seemed to terminate, the ship glided freely forward, rising to the sea, which came rolling in from the north-west.

"Sound the well, Mr Chisel," said the commander to the carpenter. All on deck stood anxiously waiting his report.

The berg appeared on the quarter, gradually becoming less and less distinct, till what seemed like a thin white mist alone was seen, which soon melted away altogether in the thick darkness. Still all well knew that other bergs might be in the neighbourhood, and a similar danger might have to be encountered.

The officers paced the deck, looking out anxiously, and those who, while the danger lasted, had not felt the cold, hurried below to finish dressing as best they could, or buttoned up their flushing coats, and wrapped comforters round their necks.

Colonel Morley returned to the cabin to tell his wife and daughters that the danger had passed. He found them pale and anxious, but neither trembling nor fainting. The two girls were seated on each side of their mother, holding her hands. They had been fully aware of the danger in which the ship had been placed, and they had together been offering up their prayers for their own safety and for that of all on board.

Peter Patch, finding himself near Willy, whispered that he should like to go and see how Ensign Holt had behaved himself. He would have found the ensign seated on the deck of his cabin with his bed-clothes pulled over his head, much too alarmed to think, or to utter any sounds but "Oh! oh! oh! what is going to happen? Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, I wish I had not come!"

The other officers had collected in the main cabin, where Captain Power had taken his seat at the head of the table, giving encouragement to those around him, while their well-disciplined men, according to orders, kept to their quarters, the sergeants moving among them to see that no one went on deck. Mrs Rumbelow had taken the poor women under her charge, and did her best to comfort them.

"I told you so," she exclaimed, when the ship was found to be moving easily forward, and those fearful grating sounds had ceased. "Just trust in God, and all will come right. Never cry out that all is lost while there is life, and even at the last moment hope that a way of deliverance may be found."

The wind had increased, the courses had been taken off the ship, and she stood out under her topsails. It might have been supposed that nothing particular had occurred. All hands were at their stations, however, both watches being kept on deck; indeed, no one, even the most careless, felt inclined to go below.

The commander was walking the poop, awaiting the report of the carpenter; he had taken one or two turns, when a figure approached him.

"I don't like the state of things," said a voice which he recognised as that of Mr Chisel. "The ship is making water very rapidly; it's coming in in several places, though the worst leaks are for'ard."

"We must do our best to stop them, however," answered the commander. "And, Mr Chisel, do not let more than necessary know this." The first-lieutenant and master instantly hurried below to assist the carpenter in discovering the leaks. That they were high up seemed certain, and thus some hope existed that they might be reached. In time the chief injuries were discovered, and every effort was made to stop the leaks, old sails and blankets being used for the purpose. The pumps were immediately manned by the soldiers, who were told off to work them. Their clanking sound echoed along the decks, while, at the same time, the loud gush of the clear water rushing through the scuppers gave fearful proof of the large amount which must be rushing in. How eagerly all on board longed for daylight. The wind, however, was rising, and the ship heeled over on the side which had received the injury; she was accordingly put on the other tack, although it would take her out of her proper course.

All on board felt it to be a solemn time. The only sounds heard were those of the clanking pumps, and the gush of water as it was forced up from below. The wind was every instant increasing. The topsails were closely reefed, and the "Ranger" went plunging on into the fast-rising seas.

At length the cold light of early morn broke on the countenances of the crew; many looked pale and haggard. The past hours had been trying ones, and the soldiers, some in their shirts and trousers only, were labouring away manfully at the pumps; the crew at their stations, ready to obey the commands which any sudden emergency might demand. At length the carpenter reported that he had so far conquered the leaks that the ship might safely be put again on the port tack.

"Helm a-lee!" was heard. "Shift tacks and sheets! Mainsail haul! of all haul!" shouted Commander Newcombe; but at that instant, before the words were well out of his mouth, while the yards were in the act of being swung round, a terrific blast laid the ship over, a heavy sea striking her at the same time. For an instant it seemed as if she would never rise again. Shrieks were heart! rising from the foaming waters under her lee; several poor fellows were seen struggling amid them. No help could be given; no boat would have lived in that sea, had there been time to lower one, before they had sunk for ever. Their fate might soon be that of all on board.

The commander, after a moment's consultation with the first-lieutenant and master, had summoned the carpenter, who appeared directly afterwards with his crew and several picked men with axes in their hands. They stood round the mizen-mast. "Cut," he cried. The mizen shrouds were severed, a few splinters were seen to fly from the mast, and over it fell into the seething sea. Still the ship did not rise. They sprang to the mainmast. "That, too, must go," said the commander, and issued the order to cut. In another instant the tall mast fell into the sea. For a moment it seemed doubtful whether that would have any effect. Suddenly the ship rose with a violent motion to an even keel, carrying away, as she did so, her fore-topmast. The helm was put up. Onwards she flew before the still-increasing gale. The seas rolled savagely up with foaming crests, as if trying to overwhelm her. To attempt to heave her to without any after-sail would now be hopeless.

Willy Dicey, who had gone aft, heard the commander remark to the first-lieutenant, that he hoped the gale would not last long, as otherwise they might be driven in among the ice, which would be found in heavy packs to the south-east. "With a moderate breeze we might reach New Zealand in ten days or a fortnight," he observed. "I trust we can keep the old ship afloat till then."

"Chisel thinks the injuries very severe, though," said the first-lieutenant; "still, with the aid of the soldiers, we can keep the pumps going without difficulty, and we may be thankful that we have them on board."

All day long the "Ranger" ran on, the wind and sea rather increasing than in any way lessening. Night once more approached, but no sign appeared of the gale abating. The soldiers relieved each other bravely at the pumps. Had it not been for them, the seamen well knew that the ship must have gone down; for though they might have worked them well, their strength must in time have given in. Mrs Rumbelow continued her kind ministrations to the women and children below; she had a word, too, for the seamen and soldiers, who were allowed half-a-watch at a time to take some rest. "You see, laddies," she observed, "how you can all help each other. If the ship is to be kept afloat, and our lives saved, it will be by all working together with a will; you soldiers, by labouring at the pumps, and the sailors by taking care of the ship. If all do their duty there's he fear, boys. I only wish people could learn the same in the everyday concerns of life--the world would get on much more happily than it does."

While the sea continued rolling and the ship tumbling about, there were no hopes of getting up jury-masts. That night was even more trying than the previous one. It was not quite so dark, for now and then the clouds cleared away, and the bright stars shone forth; but still it was impossible to say whether some big iceberg might not be ahead, or whether the ship might not be driven into the midst of a field of ice, which would be scarcely less dangerous. All night long she ran on before the gale. It would be hopeless to attempt bringing her on a wind while the storm continued, and yet she was running into unknown dangers. Before, when she almost ran into the iceberg, she had had her masts standing, and was under easy steering canvas; now, with her after-masts gone, should an iceberg rise in her course, it would be scarcely possible for her to escape it.

Not a single officer of the ship, and but few of the men, went below that night. The military officers took their turn at the pumps to relieve their men; for, although so many were ready for the duty, so great was the exertion required, that they could continue at it but a few minutes together. As soon as one man was knocked up, another sprang into his place.

Another day dawned. It is easy to imagine how anxiously the night had been spent by all on board, especially by the poor ladies and soldiers' wives. Happy were those who knew the power and effect of prayer. Wonderfully had they been supported. Those who knew not how to pray had been seated with hands clasped, or lying down with their heads covered up, endeavouring to shut out all thought of the future. Mrs Morley and her daughters had remained in their cabin, calm, though not unmoved, visited every now and then by the colonel; yet he could afford them but little consolation with regard to the safety of the ship. All he could say was that the men were doing their duty, and that they must hope for the best.

Ensign Holt had been missed by his brother officers, and roused up, not very gently, and had been compelled to take his turn at the pumps. He ought to have been very much obliged to them, as those are best off who are actively engaged in times of danger, though he grumbled considerably, declaring that it was not in the articles of war, and that he did not see why he should be made to work at the pumps like the common men.

As the day advanced, though the weather remained thick and lowering, the wind began to abate; yet the sea ran still very high, and the ship laboured greatly. The seamen were making preparations, however, to set up jury-masts, the carpenter and his crew were busy in lashing the spars together for the purpose, and the boatswain and his party in preparing the rigging; but while the ship continued pitching and rolling as she was then doing, it would be impossible to set up the masts. "I often wished to encounter a gale of wind," observed Peter Patch to Willy; "but, to confess the honest truth, now I know what it is, especially in these cold regions, I would rather have been excused." _

Read next: Chapter 6. More Ice

Read previous: Chapter 4. A Seaman's Superstition

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