IN ROUGH WEATHER.
It was the first of November when the _Francis_ got off, and Captain
Reefwell warned his passengers that they might expect a rather rough
voyage, as they were sure to have a storm or two in crossing at that
time of year. Eric protested that he would not mind; he was not afraid
of a storm. Indeed, he wanted to see one really good storm at sea,
such as he had often read about.
But he changed his tune when the _Francis_ began to pitch and toss in
the chops of the English Channel, and with pale face and piteous voice
he asked the major "if a real storm were worse than this." A few days
later, however, when he got his sea-legs all right, and the _Francis_
was bowling merrily over the broad Atlantic before a favouring breeze,
his courage came back to him, and he felt ready for anything.
The _Francis_ was not more than a week out before the captain's
prediction began to be fulfilled. One storm succeeded another with but
little rest between, the wind blowing from all quarters in turn.
Driven hither and thither before it, the _Francis_ struggled gallantly
toward her destination. So long as he was out in mid-Atlantic Captain
Reefwell seemed quite indifferent to the boisterous weather. He told
his passengers that he was sorry for the many discomforts they were
forced to endure, but otherwise showed no concern. He was a daring
sailor, and had crossed the ocean a score of times before. As they
approached the American side, however, and the storm still continued,
he grew very anxious, as his troubled countenance and moody manner
plainly showed. The truth was that he had been driven out of his
course, and had lost his reckoning, owing to sun and stars alike having
been invisible for so many days. He had no clear idea of his distance
from the coast, and unless he could soon secure a satisfactory
observation the _Francis_ would be in a perilous plight.
The first of December was marked by a storm more violent than any which
had come before, followed by a dense fog which swathed the ship in
appalling gloom. The captain evidently regarded this fog as a very
grave addition to his difficulties. He hardly left the quarter-deck,
and his face grew haggard and his eyes bloodshot with being constantly
on the look-out. Realizing that a crisis was at hand, and determined
to know the worst, Major Maunsell made bold to ask the captain to tell
him the real state of affairs. Captain Reefwell hesitated for a
moment, then muttering something about "might as well out with it," he
laid his hand upon the major's shoulder, and looking straight into his
eyes, with a strange expression of sympathy, said in his gravest
tones,--
"Major, it's just this: unless I'm clean lost, we must now be somewhere
near Sable Island. I'm expecting to hear the roar of its breakers any
minute, and once the _Francis_ gets amongst them, God help us all!
Sable Island makes sure work." And he turned away abruptly, as though
to hide his feelings.
Captain Reefwell's words sent a shudder straight and swift through
Major Maunsell's heart. The latter already knew of the bad reputation
of that strange island which scarcely lifts itself above the level of
the Atlantic, less than a hundred miles due east from Nova Scotia.
Stories that chilled the blood had from time to time floated up to
Halifax--stories of shipwreck following fast upon shipwreck, and no one
surviving to tell the tale.
But even more appalling than the fury of the storm that scourged the
lonely island were the deeds said to be done by monsters in human guise
who plied the wrecker's trade there, and, acting upon the principle
that dead men tell no tales, had made it their care to put out of the
way all whom even the cruel billows had spared.
With a heavy heart the major made his way back to the cabin, where he
found Eric, upon whose bright spirits the long and stormy voyage had
told heavily, looking very unhappy as he tried to amuse himself with a
book. The boy was worn out by the ceaseless pitching and tossing of
the vessel. He felt both home-sick and sea-sick, as indeed did many
another of the passengers, who with one accord were wishing themselves
safely upon land again. He looked up eagerly as the major entered.
"What does the captain say, major?" he asked, his big brown eyes open
their widest. "Will the storm soon be over, and are we near Halifax?"
Concealing his true feelings, the major replied with well-put-on
cheerfulness,--
"The captain says that if this fog would only lift, and let him find
out exactly where we are, Eric, he would be all right. There is
nothing to do but to wait, and hope for the best." And sitting down
beside Eric, he threw his arm about him in a tender, protecting way
that showed how strongly he felt.
So intense was the anxiety on board the _Francis_ that none of the
passengers thought of going to their berths or taking off their clothes
that night, but all gathered in the cabins, finding what cheer and
comfort they could in one another's company.
In the main cabin were other officers besides Major Maunsell--namely,
Captain Sterling of the Fusiliers, Lieutenant Mercer of the Royal
Artillery, and Lieutenants Sutton, Roebuck, and Moore of the 16th Light
Dragoons; while in the fore-cabin were household servants of the prince
and soldiers of the line, bringing the total number of passengers up to
two hundred.
During the night Captain Reefwell, seeing that it was no longer any use
to conceal the seriousness of the situation, sent word to all on board
to prepare for the worst, as the ship might be among the breakers at
any moment. The poor passengers hastened to gather their most precious
possessions into little bundles, and to prepare themselves for the
approaching struggle with death.
The night wore slowly on, the sturdy brig straining and groaning as the
billows made a plaything of her, tossing her to and fro as though she
was no heavier than a chip, while the fierce storm shrieked through the
rigging in apparent glee at having so rich a prize for the wreckers of
Sable Island.
It was a brave band that awaited its fate in the main cabin. The men
were borne up by the dauntless fortitude of the British soldier, and,
catching their spirit, Eric manifested a quiet courage well worthy of
the name he bore. He had Prince with him now, for the captain had
himself suggested that he had better have the dog near at hand. The
noble creature seemed to have some glimmering of their common peril,
for he kept very close to his young master, and every now and then laid
his huge head upon Eric's knee and looked up into his face with an
expression that said as plainly as words,--
"Nothing but death can ever part us. You can depend upon me to the
very uttermost."
And hugging him fondly, Eric answered,--
"Dear old Prince! You'll help me if we are wrecked, won't you?" at
which Prince wagged his tail responsively, and did his best to lick his
master's face.
Now and then some one would creep up on deck, and brave the fury of the
blast for a few moments, in hope of finding some sign of change for the
better; and on his return to the cabin the others would eagerly scan
his countenance and await his words, only to be met with a sorrowful
shake of the head that rendered words unnecessary.
Eric alone found temporary forgetfulness in sleep. He was very weary,
and, though fully alive to the danger so near at hand, could not keep
from falling into a fitful slumber, as he lay upon the cushioned seat
that encircled the cabin, Prince stationing himself at his side and
pillowing his head in his lap.
Poor Prince was by no means so handsome a creature now as when his good
looks and good manners won the captain's heart. The long stormy
passage had been very hard upon him. He had grown gaunt, and his
smooth, shiny skin had become rough and unkempt. Otherwise, however,
he was not much the worse, and was quite ready for active duty if his
services should be needed.
Awaking from a light sleep, in which he dreamed that he and Prince were
having a glorious romp on the lawn at Oakdene, which somehow seemed to
be undulating in a very curious fashion, Eric caught sight of Major
Maunsell returning to the cabin after a visit to the upper deck, and at
once ran up to him and plied him with eager questions.
"Is the storm getting any better, and will it soon be daylight again?"
The major did his best to look cheerful as he answered,--
"Well, the storm is no worse, Eric, at all events, and it will not be
long before daylight comes."
"But even if we should be wrecked," said Eric, looking pleadingly into
the major's face, "we might all get ashore all right, mightn't we?
I've often read of shipwrecks in which everybody was saved."
"Certainly, my boy, certainly," replied the major promptly, although
deep down in his heart he seemed to hear Captain Reefwell's ominous
words, "Sable Island makes sure work."
"And, major," continued Eric, "I'm going to keep tight hold of Prince's
collar if we do get wrecked. He can swim ever so much better than I
can, and he'll pull me ashore all right, won't he?"
"That's a capital idea of yours, my boy," said the major, smiling
tenderly upon him. "Keep tight hold of Prince, by all means. You
couldn't have a better life-preserver."
"I don't want to be wrecked, that's certain; but if we are, I'm very
glad I've got Prince here to help me--the dear old fellow that he is!"
And so saying, Eric threw himself down upon his dog and gave him a
hearty hug, which the mastiff evidently much enjoyed. Day broke at
last, if the slow changing of the thick darkness into a dense gray fog
could rightly be called daybreak.
The _Francis_ still bravely battled with the tempest. She had proved
herself a trusty ship, and, with Captain Reefwell on the quarter-deck,
more than a match for the worst fury of wind and wave.
But no ship that ever has been or ever will be built could possibly
pass through the ordeal of the Sable Island breakers, whose awful
thunder might at any moment be heard above the howling of the blast.
At breakfast-time the worn and weary passengers gathered around the
table for what would, in all probability, be their last meal on board
the _Francis_, and perhaps their last on earth. The fare was not very
tempting, for what could the cooks do under such circumstances? But
the passengers felt no disposition to complain. Indeed, they had
little appetite to eat, and were only making a pretence of doing so,
when a sailor burst into the cabin, his bronzed face blanched with
fear, as he shouted breathlessly,--
"Captain says for all to come up on deck. The ship will strike in a
minute."
Instantly there was wild confusion and a mad rush for the
companion-way; but Major Maunsell waited to take Eric's hand tightly
into his before pressing on with the others. When they reached the
deck an awful scene met their eyes. The fog had lifted considerably,
so that it was possible to see some distance from the ship; and there,
right across her bows, not more than a quarter of a mile away, a
tremendous line of breakers stretched as far as eye could see.
Straight into their midst the _Francis_ was helplessly driving at the
bidding of the storm-fiend. No possible way of escape! Not only did
the breakers extend to right and left until they were lost in the
shifting fog, but the nearest line was evidently only an advance-guard;
for beyond it other lines, not less formidable, could be dimly
descried, rearing their snowy crests of foam as they rolled fiercely
onward.
"Heaven help us!" cried Major Maunsell, as with one swift glance he
took in the whole situation; and drawing Eric close to him, he made his
way through the confusion to the foot of the main-mast, which offered a
secure hold for the time being.
A few minutes later the _Francis_ struck the first bar with a shock
that sent everybody who had not something to hold on to tumbling upon
the deck. But for the major's forethought, both he and Eric might at
that moment have been borne off into the boiling surges; for a
tremendous billow rushed upon the helpless vessel, sweeping her from
stern to stem, and carrying away a number of the soldiers, who, having
nothing to hold on by, were picked up like mere chips of wood and
hurried to their doom. Their wild cries for the help that could not be
given them pierced the ears of the others, who did not know but that
the next billow would treat them in like manner.
Again and again was the ill-starred ship thus swept by the billows,
each time fresh victims falling to their fell fury. Then came a wave
of surpassing size, which, lifting the _Francis_ as though she had been
a mere feather, bore her over the bar into the deeper water beyond.
Here, after threatening to go over upon her beam-ends, she righted once
more, and drove on toward the next bar.