The wreck of the foremast was cleared from the ship; the gale continued,
but the sun shone brightly and warmly. The _Circassian_ was again
brought to the wind. All danger was now considered to be over, and the
seamen joked and laughed as they were busied in preparing jury-masts to
enable them to reach their destined port.
"I wouldn't have cared so much about this spree," said the boatswain,
"if it warn't for the mainmast; it was such a beauty. There's not
another stick to be found equal to it in the whole length of the
Mississippi."
"Bah! man," replied Oswald; "there's as good fish in the sea as ever
came out of it, and as good sticks growing as ever were felled; but I
guess we'll pay pretty dear for our spars when we get to Liverpool,--but
that concerns the owners."
The wind, which, at the time of its sudden change to the southward and
eastward, had blown with the force of a hurricane, now settled into a
regular strong gale, such as sailors are prepared to meet and laugh at.
The sky was also bright and clear, and they had not the danger of a lee
shore. It was a delightful change after a night of darkness, danger,
and confusion and the men worked that they might get sufficient sail on
the ship to steady her, and enable them to shape a course.
"I suppose now that we have the trysail on her forward, the captain will
be for running for it," observed one who was busy turning in a dead-eye.
"Yes," replied the boatswain; "and with this wind on our quarter we
shan't want much sail, I've a notion."
"Well, then, one advantage in losing your mast--you haven't much trouble
about the rigging."
"Trouble enough, though, Bill, when we get in," replied another,
gruffly; "new lower rigging to parcel and sarve, and every block to turn
in afresh."
"Never mind, longer in port--I'll get spliced."
"Why, how often do you mean to get spliced, Bill? You've a wife in
every State, to my sartin knowledge."
"I ain't got one at Liverpool, Jack."
"Well, you may take one there, Bill; for you've been sweet upon that
nigger girl for these last three weeks."
"Any port in a storm, but she won't do for harbour duty. But the fact
is, you're all wrong there, Jack, its the babbies I likes--I likes to
see them both together, hanging at the niggers' breasts, I always think
of two spider-monkeys nursing two kittens."
"I knows the women, but I never knows the children. It's just six of
one and half-a-dozen of the other; ain't it, Bill?"
"Yes; like two bright bullets out of the same mould. I say, Bill, did
any of your wives ever have twins?"
"No; nor I don't intend, until the owners give us double pay."
"By-the-bye," interrupted Oswald, who had been standing under the
weather bulk-head, listening to the conversation, and watching the work
in progress, "we may just as well see if she has made any water with all
this straining and buffeting. By the Lord I never thought of that.
Carpenter, lay down your adze and sound the well."
The carpenter, who, notwithstanding the uneasiness of the dismasted
vessel, was performing his important share of the work, immediately
complied with the order. He drew up the rope-yarn, to which an iron
rule had been suspended, and lowered down into the pump-well, and
perceived that the water was dripping from it. Imagining that it must
have been wet from the quantity of water shipped over all, the carpenter
disengaged the rope-yarn from the rule, drew another from the junk lying
on the deck, which the seamen were working up, and then carefully
proceeded to plumb the well. He hauled it up, and, looking at it for
some moments aghast, exclaimed, "_Seven feet_ of water in the hold, by
God."
If the crew of the _Circassian_, the whole of which were on deck, had
been struck with an electric shock, the sudden change of their
countenances could not have been greater than was produced by this
appalling intelligence.
Heap upon sailors every disaster, every danger which can be accumulated
from the waves, the wind, the elements, or the enemy, and they will bear
up against them with a courage amounting to heroism. All that they
demand is, that the one plank "between them and death" is sound, and
they will trust to their own energies, and will be confident in their
own skill: but _spring a leak_ and they are half paralysed; and if it
gain upon them they are subdued; for when they find that their exertions
are futile, they are little better than children.
Oswald sprang to the pumps when he heard the carpenter's report. "Try
again, Abel--it cannot be: cut away that line; hand us here a dry
rope-yarn."
Once more the well was sounded by Oswald, and the result was the same.
"We must rig the pumps, my lads," said the mate, endeavouring to conceal
his own fears; "half this water must have found its way in when she was
on her beam-ends."
This idea, so judiciously thrown out, was caught at by the seamen, who
hastened to obey the order, while Oswald went down to acquaint the
captain, who, worn out with watching and fatigue, had, now that danger
was considered to be over, thrown himself into his cot to obtain a few
hours' repose.
"Do you think, Bareth, that we have sprung a leak?" said the captain,
earnestly, "She never could have taken in that quantity of water."
"Never, sir," replied the mate; "but she has been so strained, that she
may have opened her top-sides. I trust it is no worse."
"What is your opinion, then?"
"I am afraid that the wrecks of the masts have injured her: you may
recollect how often we struck against them before we could clear
ourselves of them; once, particularly, the mainmast appeared to be right
under her bottom, I recollect, and she struck very heavy on it."
"Well, it is God's will: let us get on deck as fast as we can."
When they arrived on deck, the carpenter walked up to the captain, and
quietly said to him, "_Seven feet three, sir_." The pumps were then in
full action; the men had divided, by the direction of the boatswain,
and, stripped naked to the waist, relieved each other every two minutes.
For half an hour they laboured incessantly.
This was the half-hour of suspense: the great point to be ascertained
was, whether she leaked through the top-sides, and had taken in the
water during the second gale; if so, there was every hope of keeping it
under. Captain Ingram and the mate remained in silence near the
capstan, the former with his watch in his hand, during the time that the
sailors exerted themselves to the utmost. It was ten minutes past seven
when the half hour had expired; the well was sounded and the line
carefully measured--_Seven feet six inches_! So that the water had
gained upon them, notwithstanding that they had plied the pumps to the
utmost of their strength.
A mute look of despair was exchanged among the crew, but it was followed
up by curses and execrations. Captain Ingram remained silent, with his
lips compressed.
"It's all over with us!" exclaimed one of the men.
"Not yet, my lads; we have one more chance," said Oswald. "I've a
notion that the ship's sides have been opened by the infernal straining
of last night, and that she is now taking it in at the top-sides
generally: if so, we have only to put her before the wind again, and
have another good spell at the pumps. When no longer strained, as she
is now with her broadside to the sea, she will close all up again."
"I shouldn't wonder if Mr Bareth is not right," replied the carpenter;
"however, that's my notion, too."
"And mine," added Captain Ingram. "Come, my men! never say die while
there's a shot in the locker. Let's try her again." And, to encourage
the men, Captain Ingram threw off his coat and assisted at the first
spell, while Oswald went to the helm and put the ship before the wind.
As the _Circassian_ rolled before the gale, the lazy manner in which she
righted proved how much water there was in the hold. The seamen exerted
themselves for a whole hour without intermission, and the well was again
sounded--_eight feet_!
The men did not assert that they would pump no longer; but they too
plainly showed their intentions by each resuming in silence his shirt
and jacket, which had been taken off at the commencement of his
exertions.
"What's to be done, Oswald?" said Captain Ingram, as they walked aft.
"You see the men will pump no longer: nor, indeed, would it be of any
use. We are doomed."
"The _Circassian_ is, sir, I am afraid," replied the mate: "pumping is
of no avail; they could not keep her afloat till day-break. We must
therefore, trust to our boats, which I believe to be all sound, and quit
her before night."
"Crowded boats in such a sea as this!" replied Captain Ingram, shaking
his head mournfully.
"Are bad enough, I grant; but better than the sea itself. All we can do
now is to try and keep the men sober, and if we can do so it will be
better than to fatigue them uselessly; they'll want all their strength
before they put foot again upon dry land--if ever they are so fortunate.
Shall I speak to them?"
"Do, Oswald," replied the captain; "for myself I care little, God knows;
but my wife--my children!"
"My lads," said Oswald, going forward to the men, who had waited in
moody silence the result of the conference--"as for pumping any longer
it would be only wearing out your strength for no good. We must now
look to our boats; and a good boat is better than a bad ship. Still
this gale and cross-running sea are rather too much for boats at
present; we had therefore better stick to the ship as long as we can.
Let us set to with a will and get the boats ready, with provisions,
water, and what may be needful, and then we must trust to God's mercy
and our own endeavours."
"No boat can stand this sea," observed one of the men. "I'm of opinion,
as it's to be a short life, it may as well be a merry one. What d'ye
say, my lads?" continued he, appealing to the men.
Several of the crew were of the same opinion: but Oswald, stepping
forward, seized one of the axes which lay at the main-bits, and going up
to the seaman who had spoken, looked him steadfastly in the face:--
"Williams," said the mate, "a short life it may be to all of us, but not
a merry one; the meaning of which I understand very well. Sorry I shall
be to have your blood, or that of others, on my hands; but as sure as
there's a heaven, I'll cleave to the shoulder the first man who attempts
to break into the spirit-room. You know I never joke. Shame upon you!
Do you call yourselves men, when, for the sake of a little liquor now,
you would lose your only chance of getting drunk every day as soon as we
get on shore again? There's a time for all things; and I've a notion
this is a time to be sober."
As most of the crew sided with Oswald, the weaker party were obliged to
submit, and the preparations were commenced. The two boats on the booms
were found to be in good condition. One party was employed cutting away
the bulwarks, that the boats might be launched over the side, as there
were no means of hoisting them out. The well was again sounded. Nine
feet of water in the hold, and the ship evidently settling fast. Two
hours had now passed, and the gale was not so violent; the sea, also,
which at the change of wind had been cross, appeared to have recovered
its regular run. All was ready; the sailors, once at work again, had,
in some measure, recovered their spirits, and were buoyed up with fresh
hopes at the slight change in their favour from the decrease of the
wind. The two boats were quite large enough to contain the whole of the
crew and passengers; but, as the sailors said among themselves (proving
the kindness of their hearts), "What was to become of those two poor
babbies, in an open boat for days and nights, perhaps?" Captain Ingram
had gone down to Mrs Templemore, to impart to her their melancholy
prospects; and the mother's heart, as well as the mother's voice, echoed
the words of the seamen, "What will become of my poor babes?"
It was not till nearly six o'clock in the evening that all was ready:
the ship was slowly brought to the wind again, and the boats launched
over the side. By this time the gale was much abated; but the vessel
was full of water, and was expected soon to go down.
There is no time in which coolness and determination are more required
than in a situation like the one which we have attempted to describe.
It is impossible to know the precise moment at which a water-logged
vessel, in a heavy sea, may go down: and its occupants are in a state of
mental fever, with the idea of their remaining in her so late that she
will suddenly submerge, and leave them to struggle in the waves. This
feeling actuated many of the crew of the _Circassian_, and they had
already retreated to the boats. All was arranged; Oswald had charge of
one boat, and it was agreed that the larger should receive Mrs
Templemore and her children, under the protection of Captain Ingram.
The number appointed to Oswald's boat being completed, he shoved off, to
make room for the other, and laid-to to leeward, waiting to keep
company. Mrs Templemore came up with Captain Ingram, and was assisted
by him into the boat. The nurse, with one child, was at last placed by
her side; Coco was leading Judy, the other nurse, with the remaining
infant in her arms, and Captain Ingram, who had been obliged to go into
the boat with the first child, was about to return to assist Judy with
the other, when the ship gave a heavy pitch, and her forecastle was
buried in the wave: at the same time the gunwale of the boat was stove
by coming in contact with the side of the vessel. "She's down, by God!"
exclaimed the alarmed seamen in the boat; shoving off to escape from the
vortex.
Captain Ingram, who was standing on the boat's thwarts to assist Judy,
was thrown back into the bottom of the boat; and, before he could
extricate himself, the boat was separated from the ship, and had drifted
to leeward.
"My child!" screamed the mother: "my child!"
"Pull to again, my lads!" cried Captain Ingram, seizing the tiller.
The men, who had been alarmed at the idea that the ship was going down,
now that they saw that she was still afloat, got out the oars and
attempted to regain her, but in vain--they could not make head against
the sea and wind. Further and further did they drift to leeward,
notwithstanding their exertions; while the frantic mother extended her
arms, imploring and entreating. Captain Ingram, who had stimulated the
sailors to the utmost, perceived that further attempts were useless.
"My child! my child!" screamed Mrs Templemore, standing up, and holding
out her arms towards the vessel. At a sign from the captain, the head
of the boat was veered round. The bereaved mother knew that all hope
was gone, and she fell down in a state of insensibility.