AGROUND
For a brief instant Ellerton hesitated; ought he to return to his
friends or make his way for'ard? The _San Martin_, losing steerage
way, was rolling horribly in the trough of the sea; any instant she
might turn turtle.
There was a rush of terrified firemen from the grim inferno of the
stokeholds; the engineers, having taken necessary precautions against
an explosion of the boilers, hastened to follow their example,
scrambling in a struggling mass between the narrow opening of the
partially closed hatchway.
Clearly Ellerton had no means of gaining the deck in the rear of that
human press; so lurching and staggering along the alley-way he made his
way aft, where he met Mr. McKay, who, assisted by Andy, was about to go
on deck. Terence, looking a picture of utter misery in the yellow
light of the saloon, and Quexo, his olive skin ashy grey with fear, had
already joined the others.
"Come on, Hoppy," shouted Andy cheerfully. "Give me a hand with the
governor. Terence, you had better stay here."
Carefully watching their chance, the two lads managed to help Mr. McKay
to the shelter of the poop deck-house, and they were about to return
for Donaghue and the mulatto when they encountered Captain Perez and
the first mate. Both were in a state bordering on frenzy, the captain
rolling his eyes and calling for the protection of a thousand saints,
while the mate was mumbling mechanically the last compass course, "Sur
oeste, cuarto oeste" (S.W. by W.).
The cowardly officers had deserted their posts!
In an instant Fanshaw Ellerton saw his chance--and took it.
"Stop him, Andy!" he shouted, setting the example by throwing himself
upon the Peruvian skipper.
The man did not resist; he seemed incapable of doing anything.
"Don't bother about the other," hissed the apprentice. "Make this chap
come with us to the bridge. I'll be the skipper and he'll be the
figurehead."
The two chums dragged the captain across the heaving deck, up the
swaying monkey-ladder, and gained the lofty bridge.
Ellerton glanced to windward. His seamanship, poor though it was,
began to assert itself. The wind was going down slightly, but, veering
to the nor'ard, was causing a horrible jumble of cross-seas--not so
lofty as the mountainous waves a few hours ago, but infinitely more
trying.
The _San Martin_, swept on bow, quarter, and broadside, rolled and
pitched, the white cascades pouring from her storm-washed decks; yet
Ellerton realised that she possessed a considerable amount of buoyancy
by the way she shook herself clear of the tons of water that poured
across her.
The wheel was deserted. The steersman, finding that his officers had
fled and that the vessel carried no way, had followed his superior's
example.
Cowering under the lee of the funnel casing were about twelve of the
crew, including the bo'sun and quartermaster.
"Tell the captain," yelled Ellerton to his chum, "to order those men to
set the storm staysail, if they value their hides."
Andy interpreted the order, which the captain, gaining a faint
suspicion of confidence, communicated to the bo'sun.
The bare chance of saving their lives urged the men into action.
Unharmed, they succeeded in gaining the fo'c'sle, and in less than ten
minutes the stiff canvas was straining on the forestay.
Gathering way, the _San Martin_, no longer rolling, pounded sluggishly
through the foam-flecked sea.
Ellerton would not risk setting any canvas aft; he was content to let
the vessel drive.
"Ask him whether we have plenty of sea room--whether there is any
danger of running ashore during the next hour or so?"
Andy put the question.
"No, senor; there is plenty of sea room."
That was enough. The apprentice cared not what course he steered, so
long as he kept the waves well on the quarter. When the hurricane was
over they could carry on till they fell in with some passing vessel and
got a tow into port.
"That's right. Tell him to take his watch below," continued the
apprentice. "And you might get hold of some oilskins, Andy."
Obediently the skipper left the bridge, and, steeling himself for a
long trick at the helm, Ellerton grasped the spokes of the wheel with
firm hands.
At length the day broke, and with it a regular deluge of rain, pouring
from an unbroken mass of scudding, deep blue clouds. The rain beat
down the vicious crests, but the sea still ran "mountains high."
About noon Mr. McKay expressed his intention of joining Ellerton on the
bridge, and assisted by his son he left the shelter of the poop.
From the foot of the poop-ladder to that of the bridge a life-line had
been rigged to give the protection that the shattered bulwarks no
longer afforded.
When midway between the two ladders, a roll of the vessel caused Mr.
McKay to lurch heavily towards the rope. His wounded limb proved
unequal to the strain, and falling heavily upon the main rope his
weight broke the lashings that held it to the ring-bolt. Before Andy
could save him, Mr. McKay had crashed against the main hatchway.
"Hurt?" asked Andy anxiously.
"I'm afraid so," replied his father, manfully suppressing a groan. "My
leg is broken."
By dint of considerable exertion the sufferer was taken back to the
saloon, and the ship's surgeon, who had been routed out of his cabin,
pronounced the injury to be a double fracture.
Ellerton, his whole attention fixed upon keeping the vessel on her
course, had neither observed nor heard the noise of the accident, and
great was his concern when Andy mounted the bridge and informed him of
the catastrophe.
"I think I can leave the command," he remarked. "No doubt that
yellow-skinned johnny has recovered his nerve by now."
Five minutes later Captain Antonio Perez gained the bridge. He had
lost his suave, self-confident manner, and his general appearance
showed a change for the better in his moral and physical condition.
Yet, without a word of thanks to the English lad who had saved the
situation, he called up two of the seamen, and placed them at the wheel.
"He might have been a bit civil over the business," remarked Andy.
"Poor brute! I dare say he feels his position pretty acutely. I only
hope he won't break down in a hurry," replied Ellerton.
For the next two days the _San Martin_ fled before the storm, the
trysail keeping her steady and checking any tendency to broach-to. The
wind had increased to almost its former violence on the evening of the
first day, but the vessel was then close on the outer edge of the
storm-path.
Mr. McKay, who was suffering considerably, bore his injuries gamely,
while Terence, who had recovered from his bout of sea-sickness, began
to take a new interest in life. Quexo, however, still lay on the floor
of the stateroom, refusing to eat or drink, and groaning dismally at
intervals.
"I reckon he's sorry he followed the Americanos across the wide river
that tastes of salt," said Terence, quoting the Nicaraguan way of
speaking of the sea. "Even I can feel sorry for him."
"That's a good sign," remarked Andy. "Yesterday you hadn't the pluck
to feel sorry for yourself."
On the morning of the fourth day of the storm the wind piped down
considerably, and the Peruvian captain ordered the fore and aft canvas
to be set. The engine-room staff also began to take steps to attempt
the temporary repairing of the shafting, and had already removed a
considerable portion of the plating of the tunnel.
As yet the sky was completely overcast. At noon the officers, sextant
in hand, waited in vain for an opportunity of "shooting the sun."
Where the ship was, no one on board knew, though it was agreed that she
was driven several miles to the south'ard of her proper course.
The weather began to improve as night drew on. The setting sun was
just visible in a patch of purple sky, showing that fine weather might
be expected from that quarter. The glass, too, was rising; not
rapidly, but gradually and surely.
"Now for a good night's rest," exclaimed Andy, for throughout the gale
the lads had turned in "all standing."
But Andy was doomed to be disappointed, for at four bells in the middle
watch (2 a.m.) a sudden crash roused the sleepers from their berths.
The _San Martin_ was hard and fast aground.