THE DRIFTING HULK.
As the fog settled down upon the turtle-catchers, shutting out from
their view the surrounding waters and enveloping them as with a misty
veil which was more bewildering than the blackness of night, no one
spoke for several moments. Silent and motionless they sat, gazing
blankly at the vapor, which confused by its density, until there was a
dim idea even in the minds of Gertie and Ben of the peril which had so
suddenly come upon them.
“Do you suppose the folks on the schooner can find us?” Ben asked
suddenly, his voice sounding strange and unreal in that cloud of wavy
moisture which rendered the occupants of the boat indistinct to each
other.
“There is just a chance of it,” Jake replied hoarsely. “Most likely
somebody had our bearings before the fog shut down over them; but then
again the turtle might have towed the boat a couple of miles on another
course before the smother reached us.”
“How are we to get on board?” Gertie asked, and there was a long pause
before Jake replied:
“That’s what I don’t exactly know. We may as well make up our minds
that we’ll be on this ’ere craft quite a spell, for I reckon it’ll be
mighty near dark before the fog lifts. I’m goin’ to run the risk of
pullin’ up toward where I think the schooner is, and if we miss her we
know that wherever mornin’ finds us the land won’t be very far away.”
Then Jake kicked the turtle, as if holding it responsible for all
their trouble, and seating himself on the middle thwart, took up the
oars with the air of a man who is thoroughly convinced his labor will
be useless. Both the children understood from the expression of his
face that he was seriously alarmed, and they sat in silent terror,
alternately gazing at him and trying to peer through the vapor which
seemed to grow more dense each moment.
It was a long time before the silence was broken, and then Gertie asked
in a low tone:
“Please can I have a drink of water?”
“We haven’t got a drop on board,” Jake replied almost sharply, “and
unless the schooner picks us up we can’t get any till we reach the
land.”
“And there’s nothing to eat,” Ben added.
“It doesn’t make any difference about the water,” Gertrude said
bravely. “I only fancied I would like some, but I’m not so very
thirsty.”
Ben thought it strange that this remark, made simply for the purpose of
showing that she could bear privation as well as her companions, should
dishearten Jake, for it surely seemed to have that effect. Instead of
replying, he dropped the oars and covered his face with his hands as if
in utter despair.
“Don’t, please don’t feel so badly,” she said pleadingly. “I’m sure
the ship will come after us, and how do we know but that we are close
beside her now.”
“Well, if children can keep their hearts up it don’t seem as if an A
No. 1 cook like me oughter give in, does it?” and Jake sat erect once
more, straightening himself so quickly that he almost fell backward,
which caused Gertie and Ben to laugh as if no danger menaced.
“You must have a spring in your backbone,” Ben cried, and then all
three began to laugh again, which was the very best medicine they could
have had just at that time.
“I haven’t been allowin’ that we could be very near the schooner,” Jake
said as the mirth subsided, “but Gertie may be right after all, so
instead of rowin’ any more with a chance of goin’ directly away from
the Sea Queen, I reckon we’d better make all the noise we can, an’ if
there’s anybody round here lookin’ for us they’ll know where we are.”
Then he began to shout at the full strength of his lungs, while the
others joined their weaker voices with his. Now and again he would stop
a few seconds to listen for a reply, and as none came, would do his
best to make a yet louder outcry, until he was so hoarse that further
effort was useless. It seemed as if the thick cloud of vapor confined
the sound to the vicinity of the boat, preventing it from penetrating
very far in either direction.
“It ’pears like as if my voice was givin’ out,” he said in a hoarse
whisper when it was no longer possible to speak aloud. “Time was that I
could keep it up as hearty as our own quack doctor, but now I no sooner
begin than I’m done.”
“Gertie and I can make a good deal of noise yet,” Ben said, and for
fifteen minutes more the two children did their best to attract the
attention of those who might aid them.
At the end of that time the fog began to assume a darker hue, and Jake
announced the unwelcome fact that night was settling down over the
vapor-covered waters.
“There’s one thing about it that’s a satisfaction,” he said grimly, “we
can’t see the fog even if we can feel it, an’ I reckon darkness is more
wholesome for the eyes than that gray stuff.”
While they were shouting Ben had crept past the turtle into the extreme
bow of the boat, much as if he believed the sound of his voice would
be sent a greater distance from that point, and as Jack spoke he was
gazing ahead where the mist appeared to be darker than on either side.
At first he thought it might be the shadow of a vessel; but after he
had hailed twice without getting any reply, he concluded it was due
to a particularly dense cloud of fog, therefore he did not call his
companions’ attention to it.
He had half-turned to listen to the cook, and when Jake ceased speaking
he looked ahead once more, this time leaping to his feet as he shouted:
“See there! That must be the Sea Queen! Ahoy! Schooner ahoy!”
It was possible only to distinguish a large, dark object, but a short
distance from the boat, and knowing it could not be land, Jake was
positive they had unwittingly approached the craft all were so anxious
to find.
“That is her!” he cried, and then he shouted in his hoarse voice, which
was almost drowned by Gertie’s clear tones, but no reply was made.
“What’s the matter?” Ben asked. “Do you suppose they can’t hear us?”
“They’re all below sojerin’; but that don’t make such a very great
difference to us, seein’ as how a dozen strokes will take us
alongside,” Jake said as he seized the oars. “Stand by to fend off,
Ben, an’ we’ll soon be aboard the old hooker agin.”
There was no necessity of issuing this command to Master Clark. He
was standing in the bow with his arm outstretched, and as the little
craft forged ahead under the impulse of Jake’s vigorous strokes, it was
hardly more than sixty seconds before he had grasped the bobstay and
was calling loudly for some one to heave him a line.
Jake had turned as the boat’s headway was thus checked, and gazed in
bewilderment at the vessel’s bow, which did not look at all familiar.
“Make the painter fast an’ climb aboard,” he said to Ben, after a short
pause. “It seems as if all hands must a’ gone turtle huntin’ about the
same time we did.”
Master Clark tied the painter to the chains and was on the point of
scrambling over the high bow when he was confronted by a coal-black
face which looked almost unearthly, coming suddenly as it did from out
the fog. For an instant he was on the point of leaping down, regardless
whether he struck the boat or the water, and that brief time of
hesitation prevented him from committing a very foolish act, for almost
immediately he heard a voice which was anything rather than terrifying
in its naturalness, say devoutly:
“Bress de Lawd for hearin’ a po’ ole nigger’s prayar! What town is dis
h’yar, chile? Hab yer done gone foun’ de captin?”
“I--I don’t know what you mean,” Ben stammered, thinking it was an
insane woman who was gazing at him.
“What craft is this?” Jake asked, as he begun clambering on board,
stopping when he was where he could swing one leg over the rail, and
looking curiously around at such portions of the vessel as were visible
in the fog.
“What vessel, sah?” the old woman repeated, beginning now in turn to
look bewildered.
“Yes, what’s her name! I s’pose she’s got one.”
“Oh! You kinder flustered me, honey. Dis ship was called the Cy Moon
fore she done gone blowed mos’ to pieces, an’ I don’t know if it’s got
a name left now.”
“Cy Moon!” Jake repeated reflectively, as he sat on the rail looking
earnestly at the negress until she approached nearer to gaze down
on the boat in which Gertie was anxiously awaiting the result of
the interview, and then the cook saw the name “Simoon” painted on a
fire-bucket, which had been hidden by the woman’s clothing.
In this name there was nothing peculiar; he had seen it several
times on craft ranging in size from a small fishing schooner to a
full-rigged ship, and he began to feel that there was far less reason
for superstitious fears than if the word had been spelled according to
the pronunciation given by the negress.
“Where are the crew?” he asked as he leaped on deck.
“They all done gone lef’ me, an’ I spec’ they went on shore de oder
night when de wind blowed powerful bad.”
“Do you mean to say that they abandoned the ship an’ left you to take
care of yourself?” Jack asked as he walked amidships, where he could
see that both masts had been blown out of the vessel, the splintered
ends of the timbers showing but a few feet above the deck.
“I don’ know what dey did, sah; but it’s mos’ a week sence the wind
blowed terrible, an’ Cap’en Dingley say, ‘Go to bed, aunty, till fair
wedder comes.’ It ’peared like the ship was sinkin’ every minute, an’
once she rolled ober on her side till I prayed mighty loud. When I
come up stairs in de mawnin’ I couldn’t fin’ de cap’en or men, an’ I’se
bin right here ebber sence.”
“The old hooker was dismasted in that gale we caught outside Sandy
Hook, I s’pose,” Jake said in a low tone to Ben, “an’ all hands were
swept away, or thought they had to take to the boats mighty lively, so
they didn’t stop for the old woman. Where did you come from?” he asked
the negress.
“Savannah, sah, an’ I was goin’ straight up Norf to see my boy Moses.
’Pears like you might----”
“Why, I live in Savannah!” Ben cried, seizing the old woman’s hand as
if the mere fact of her residing in his native city was sufficient to
constitute her an intimate friend.
“Does you, chile? Wall, I’se ready to go back now, an’ if Moses wants
to see his ole mammy he can come whar she is. We’ll go dere right
straight, an’ when Cap’en Dingley gits back it’ll larn him not to leave
anudder ole nigger woman to take keer ob his boat.”
“I wish you could go there as easy as you think, aunty, but the way
things are fixed I reckon you’ll have to stay here a while longer,
an’ we’ll all be lucky if this hulk drifts near enough to one of the
keys for us to land. Ben, you help Gertie on board an’ then we’ll look
around a bit to see what kind of a craft we’ve run into in the fog.”
It was now growing dark rapidly, and such preparations as were to
be made for the night ought to be hurried forward while it was yet
sufficiently light for them to see what should be done. Ben clambered
down into the boat, and in a few moments, thanks to the aid Jake gave
from above, Gertie was brought on deck, where she was delivered into
the old negress’ charge, with instructions that she be taken to the
cabin.
To ascertain the condition of the upper portion of the Simoon was
neither a long nor a difficult task. She had been a brig-rigged vessel
of about five hundred tons burden, and was loaded quite deep in the
water. Both masts and the jib-boom had been carried away, while a
portion of the port rail was crushed where the heavy spar had fallen
upon it. The hatches were on, the steering-gear uninjured, the galley
yet in a condition to be used, and from the appearance of the cabin and
forecastle, it was evident the crew had believed her to be sinking,
when they abandoned her so hastily that they made no attempt to take
the negress with them.
“She was most likely thrown on her beam ends by a sudden slant of the
wind, an’ as she didn’t right after the spars went, the men thought it
was a case of every one for himself,” Jake said when he and Ben had
walked rapidly fore and aft. “We’ll try the well, an’ if she hasn’t got
too much water aboard we can settle down half-way comfortable for the
night.”
The sounding-rod was yet in the socket, showing that it had been used
before the hurried departure of the men, and, as near as Jake could
learn, there was no more water in the brig than might have been shipped
while she was on her beam-ends.
“If the plankin’ had been started she would a-gone to the bottom long
before this, providin’ the old woman is right about havin’ been here
a week, an’ we can reckon on plenty of provisions, ’cause she has the
look of bein’ well fed.”
“Then I don’t see why we’re not pretty nicely off for folks who have
lost their own vessel in the fog.”
“We’ve got a chance to stretch our legs an’ lie down in some kind of
comfortable style,” Jake said slowly and gravely; “but other ways we’re
fixed no better on this driftin’ hulk than we would be in the boat, an’
perhaps not so well.”
“We can leave in the morning, if the wind don’t come on and blow too
hard.”
“That’s just it, my boy, _if_ the wind _don’t_ spring up; but if we
should fall in with a norther, an’ there are plenty of ’em skulkin’
round here, we’d stand a chance of makin’ a long cruise with no port
this side Davy Jones’ locker.”