ON THE SIMOON.
When he first stepped aboard the drifting hulk, Ben inclined to the
belief that all their troubles were over, since they were once more
on a vessel, even though she was dismasted; but his spirits fell very
rapidly as the cook briefly pointed out the dangers of the situation,
and he began to look upon the derelict simply as a trap which had been
placed in the gulf for the purpose of drowning those who sought shelter
upon her.
With Jake the case was different; the fact that he had good reason
for predicting evil seemed to make him quite contented with his
surroundings, and he set about his preparations for the night in a
sadly happy manner. His first care was to take, with Ben’s aid, the
turtle from the boat, and then to fasten the little craft securely
astern where she might readily be reached, for no one could say how
soon she would be required for the safety of those on board the
disabled brig.
After that had been done the Sea Queen’s cook busied himself with
putting the partially shattered galley in working order, and while
he was thus engaged Ben went into the cabin to learn whether the old
negress was making Gertie comfortable.
This portion of the brig offered a striking contrast to the deck,
where everything told of disaster. The lamps had been lighted, and the
interior wore a cheerful, home-like look that went very far toward
dispelling the boy’s gloomy thoughts caused by Jake’s dismal croaking.
The saloon was as large as an ordinary room, with four doors leading
to as many state-rooms on either side, and, according to Ben’s ideas,
furnished with an unusual degree of elegance, although had he been
more familiar with vessels of the Simoon’s class he would not have
been surprised at what he saw. A long dining-table with revolving,
upholstered chairs, ran nearly the entire length of the apartment, and
over it were two swinging lamps with silvered reflectors. Between the
state-room doors were sofas, and the panels of the walls and ceiling
were brilliant with gilt and inlaid woods of various colors. A thick
carpet on the floor, partially hidden by canvas coverings, the brass
plates on the companion-way stairs, and the swinging trays of glasses,
which sparkled in the light of the lamps that swayed slowly to and fro
as the wreck rose and fell sluggishly on the swell of the waves, made
up such a picture as Master Clark thought very beautiful.
Despite the glitter and color of the saloon, there were the same
palpable evidences of disaster as could be seen on deck. The carpet was
soaked with water which had entered the cabin while the brig was on
her beam ends, many of the glasses were broken, some of the furniture
was badly discolored, and the open doors of the state-rooms disclosed
wearing apparel swinging on the walls in a suggestively mournful way
when viewed in connection with the surroundings.
It is not to be supposed that Ben took note of all these things when
he first descended the stairs; he simply surveyed the place in a hasty
manner, and then his attention was centered upon the two who were
seated at the after end of the table.
The old woman had learned from Gertie the particulars of the capture
of the turtle and the disaster which befell the little party, and
had at once set about providing her with a lunch, of which the child
partook as if she had been without food for forty-eight instead of
only six hours. The sense of companionship, after having been so long
alone, cheered the solitary passenger of the Simoon quite as much as
the knowledge of temporary safety had the child, and the two looked
as happy as if they were making a voyage for pleasure on a sound,
fully-officered ship.
“Sit down and have something to eat, Ben,” Gertie said as the boy
entered. “It is much nicer here than on the Sea Queen, for that man
isn’t aboard, and Mammy Chloe knows where there are lots of good
things.”
“Come an’ fill yourself up, honey. Bress de Lawd, we’se got ’nuff to
eat, an’ bymeby we’se all gwine to toddle up Savannah streets lookin’
jes’ as fat as ’possums.”
“Jake is out in the galley rattling the pots an’ kettles as if he was
cookin’ dinner for an hundred, and I guess I’ll wait for the second
table,” Ben said merrily as he seated himself very stiffly on one of
the sofas, moving his body up and down to test the elasticity of the
springs. “I say, Gertie, this is regularly swell, ain’t it? It seems as
if we could go on living here just as long as we wanted to, an’ have an
awful good time into the bargain, but Jake says if the wind blows hard
we’ll be in a bad mess.”
“It’s wicked for him to hunt up trouble,” Gertie said indignantly. “I’m
sure we would be safer here in a storm than on the little boat, and
besides, we should have been awfully thirsty if we hadn’t found this
vessel.”
Just at this moment the cook’s voice was heard from the deck, as he
sung in anything rather than a mournful tone:
“For I’m the mate an’ the captain, too,
And the cook of the Simoon brig;
I’m the midship mite an’ the bo’sun tight,
And the crew of the captain’s gig.”
“He can’t be worried very much to sing like that,” Gertie said as the
sound of the voice was drowned by a furious clatter of pans, much as if
a whole load of tinware had suddenly been thrown on the deck. “No one
would begin to cook and make such horrid noises if the danger was very
great.”
“You’se safe ’nuff now, chile, so don’t fuss ’bout anything what ain’t
right afore you,” old Chloe said, as she brought more dishes from the
pantry and insisted on Ben sitting at the table, regardless of the
elaborate meal which Jake was supposed to be preparing.
It was half an hour before the cook had ready such a supper as he
thought necessary, and when he brought it into the cabin he was the
only one who could appreciate it, for the others no longer felt the
need of anything save sleep.
Old Chloe had made up a bed for Gertie in the room adjoining hers, and
when the child’s head begun to fall because of the weight of slumber
pressing upon the eyelids, the negress led her from the table, leaving
Jake and Ben to discuss the situation alone.
“Well, matey,” the cook asked as, having concluded his hearty meal,
he polished his mouth vigorously on his shirt-sleeve and sat resting
both elbows on the table, looking with evident satisfaction at his
surroundings, “will you an’ me turn in, leaving the old hooker to
navigate herself, or will we stump the deck all night like we was
keepin’ watch so’s to give the poor, tired crew a chance for a long
snooze?”
“I’m willin’ to stay up all night if it is necessary,” Ben replied
promptly, although he looked as if sleep was the one particular thing
he needed just then.
“We’ll take a squint around,” Jake said, rising from the table after
having gazed at the food as if undecided whether he should make another
effort to eat more. “If the smother is as thick as it was when I come
below, I don’t know as we can do any good by standin’ watch, though I
’spose we might hang out some lanterns.”
When the two went on deck they found that there was a decided change
in the weather. Owing to the darkness, the fog appeared to be as dense
as when it had first covered the waters of the gulf, but a breeze was
springing up and already were the waves putting on their white caps as
they dashed against the cutwater of the helpless vessel.
The cook no longer made any pretensions to being either the “captain or
mate of the Simoon brig,” but walked silently forward and then aft in a
manner which gave Ben to understand that he was seriously troubled in
mind.
“You ain’t going to fuss because this little breeze has come, are you?”
Ben asked anxiously. “Perhaps it’ll blow the fog away; but I don’t see
that it can do anything worse.”
“So long as it holds like this things will be snug enough,” Jake
replied slowly, “but if it keeps on growin’, as I reckon it will, we
shall have too much before mornin’. You see, we can’t do anything
toward helpin’ the old craft along; first, ’cause we don’t know where
the land lays, an’ second, on account of our not bein’ sailors such as
can make a full-rigged ship with a jackknife an’ a piece of pine wood.”
“Then if we can’t do anything we may as well wait till it gets really
bad before we cry,” Ben said, with an attempt at cheerfulness.
“I s’pose you’re right,” the cook replied sadly. “You go below an’ turn
into one of the empty bunks while I keep a little watch here all by
myself.”
“If there is anything to do I don’t want to go to sleep.”
“You might just as well as to stay here, for there is really no work
for anybody.”
Having thus been assured that he was not needed on deck, and feeling
quite positive that Jake’s delight in melancholy rather than the true
state of affairs caused these evil forebodings, Ben went into the
cabin. All the sleeping apartments, save the two occupied by old Chloe
and Gertie, were open, and he made a critical examination of each
before deciding which to use. The after one on the starboard side was
the largest and looked the most inviting, and this he entered without
thought that it might be well to take the dishes from the table, or
extinguish one of the lamps.
Partially undressing himself he laid down in the wide berth, and before
he had time to speculate as to what might be the result of this cruise
in a water-logged vessel, he was in the land of Nod, too weary even to
dream.
Meanwhile Jake was on deck with genuine fear in his heart. Although
having sailed many years as a cook he was far from being a seaman, and
the knowledge that if he knew how he might do something toward averting
danger in case of a storm, only served to make him more anxious. He
succeeded in finding two lanterns, which he lashed to the splintered
ends of the masts, and after this had been done he paced to and fro on
the deck as if believing that by so doing he would be able to prevent
any serious disaster.
The wind was rapidly increasing in force, and the fog had been so
nearly dispersed that he could see the sky, across which heavy clouds
were hurrying, like couriers of the coming storm. The motion of the
wreck was fast becoming violent, and the waves had already grown
so high as to dash, now and then, over the shattered rail when the
heavily-laden vessel could not rise with the swell.
Jake lighted the binnacle-lamp that he might see the compass, and from
it learned that the wind was blowing out of the northwest, inclining
rather more to the westward, and this knowledge had the effect of
increasing rather than allaying his fears, for he knew that the wreck
might be carried past the chain of keys into the open sea.
“The old hooker can’t live through many storms,” he muttered to himself
as he closed the forecastle hatch and made preparations for sounding
the well again. “If this wind holds strong two or three days we’ll find
ourselves knockin’ about with precious little chance of bein’ picked
up, unless we should have the good luck to strike the Cuban shore. If
land is in sight at sunrise, an’ the sea isn’t kickin’ up too much of a
bobbery, I believe the best thing we can do is to take our chances in
the small boat.”
Having expressed this opinion to himself he went, from sheer force of
habit, into the galley, remaining there even after the deck was awash
and the wreck plunging violently about as the waves struck heavy blows
which caused her to tremble from stem to stern.
In the cabin Gertie, Ben, and possibly old Chloe, were sleeping
soundly, heeding not the increased rolling of the hulk until it was
forced up by a wave and allowed to fall into the abyss of waters,
when the dishes were thrown from the table with a terrible clatter,
and everything movable was flung from one side to the other, crashing
against the swinging doors or rolling into the open rooms.
The uproar was so great that, weary though at least two of the
occupants of the cabin were, all three were out of their berths in an
instant, darting into the saloon in the belief that the brig had been
run down or struck a rock.
“What is the matter?” Gertie cried in alarm as Ben rushed from the
room aft of hers and darted toward the companion-way. “Is the vessel
sinking?”
“I don’t know,” was the hurried reply. “I’m going to find Jake.”
“You needn’t go any further, for I’m coming down.”
As he spoke the cook descended the stairs, arriving at the foot just as
old Aunt Chloe came from her room at full speed, and as the two were
moving directly toward each other when the vessel lurched again, they
quite naturally came in collision.
The shock was sufficient to throw both to the floor, but neither
Gertie or Ben saw anything comical in the unintentional encounter,
as would have been the case under other circumstances, for they were
so thoroughly frightened that they had no thought save for their own
danger.
After the cook scrambled to his feet he explained the cause of the
confusion, so far as the movements of the vessel was concerned, but he
could say nothing to cheer the anxious ones.
“A storm has come up, an’ the seas are breakin’ clean over us, owin’ to
our bein’ broadside to the wind. There isn’t a thing we can do to help
ourselves, an’ we’ve got to sit here an’ take what comes.”
The shrieking of the wind, the angry blows of the waves against the
helpless craft, and the swash of the water as it swept to and fro on
the deck, could plainly be heard by those in the cabin, telling of the
danger to which they were exposed. The full extent of the peril was now
apparent even to old Chloe, and she clasped Ben and Gertie in her arms
as she crouched on the floor alternately sobbing and praying.