The Burning Ship
Within an hour or so we had approached sufficiently near to the
conflagration to prove the truth of Captain Jeremy's assertion.
It was a large vessel burning from bow to stern, the flames mounting
to a tremendous height and casting a lurid glow on a thick column of
smoke that blew miles to leeward. The masts and spars of the ship
were still standing, though licked by the devouring fire, while her
double line of ports shone like a line of gigantic glow-worms.
Even at the distance we were from her we could hear the crackling of
the burning woodwork, and the subdued roar of the flames as they
issued from the bowels of that floating inferno.
"Near enough!" exclaimed Captain Jeremy. "'Twill not do to get to
leeward of her. Heave-to and lower away a boat; we may be able to
render assistance, though I fear 'tis too late."
These orders were promptly carried out, and the _Golden Hope_ was
brought-to at about three-quarters of a mile from the burning ship.
'Enery, with a willing crew, took one of the quarter-boats and rowed
boldly towards the vessel, while lanterns were hung on our rigging
and guns were fired at frequent intervals to attract the attention
of any boat-load of survivors that might have managed to effect an
escape.
Spellbound, I, with the rest of our remaining crew, watched the
conquering progress of the devouring element. Yard after yard came
crashing down from aloft, the blazing timber plunging into the sea
with a loud hiss as the flames were extinguished in the water. The
tarred and hempen shrouds, long since severed at the deadeyes, were
dangling like fiery serpents from the swaying masts; while ever and
anon the shotted guns of her broadside would discharge their
dangerous contents, the balls ricochetting on the surface of the sea
with a series of fountain-like jets. Some of the shots passed
unpleasantly close to the _Golden Hope_, and orders were given to
forge ahead till we were well in line with the stern of the burning
ship, where, being still to windward, we were in no danger.
Meanwhile we could perceive 'Enery and his men pulling slowly round
the ship at a respectful distance, the shot whizzing well over their
heads; and though the mate was to be seen standing up in the stern
sheets and carefully examining whatever floating piece of wreckage
they came across, we knew that none of the unfortunate crew had been
taken into the boat. If still alive, where were they?
The roar of our ordnance, fired at regular intervals, added to the
din; yet this signal seemed useless, for no strange craft was to be
seen rowing for the shelter offered by the _Golden Hope_.
Suddenly, with a loud crash, the foremast of the vessel went by the
board, and lay, still burning fiercely, across the fo'c'sle. The
mainmast soon followed, but, falling clear of the ship, it drifted
close alongside, the damp timber still emitting a dense cloud of
smoke.
By now the vessel had burned almost to the water's edge amidships,
and crash after crash could be heard as the guns plunged through the
burning planks into the hold. The fo'c'sle and poop still reared
themselves high above the sea, the latter surmounted by a pillar of
fire that encircled the mizen-mast.
Suddenly the dazzling glare of the flames was eclipsed by a flash so
brilliant that I was obliged to close my eyes to shut out its
brightness. Then came the deafening roar of an explosion, and
opening my eyes, I saw the air filled with flying pieces of
shattered timber. The magazine had taken fire.
Almost immediately the fire was extinguished; a thick cloud of smoke
hovered over the spot where the ship had been, while aloft a
thousand fitful streaks of light marked the downward course of the
burning timbers that had been shot up to an immense height.
For a full half minute the meteor-like flight continued, till the
hiss of the last of the burning timbers ceased and a great darkness,
intensified by the sudden cessation of the glare, overspread the
agitated sea.
We were now considerably concerned for the safety of 'Enery and the
boat's crew, for they were exposed to a great danger from the
falling wreckage, till the gleam of the boat's lantern showed that
they were at least still afloat.
At length the men rowed back to the brig, having sustained no
damage, though their faces were blackened with the smoke and
particles of dust that enveloped everything within half a mile of
the burning vessel.
"No sign of anyone," reported 'Enery, as he came over the side,
"though they may have taken to the boats long before we arrived."
"That's true," assented Captain Jeremy, "so keep the signal guns
firing till dawn."
"'Tis well that there's no sea running," said the mate. "A few hours
in an open boat will do no harm on a night like this, e'en though
the air is sharp."
"Not if we pick them up," added Captain Jeremy; "but I should not
wonder if they have already shaped a course for land. Yet do you
keep the brig hove-to till daylight."
The day broke with a red, angry sky that betokened foul weather. The
wind, hitherto light, began to strengthen, and an ominous swell
presaged rough water within a few miles of us.
Sunrise revealed no trace of the boats of the ill-fated ship, so,
ordering the _Golden Hope_ to be again placed on her course, Captain
Jeremy retired to his cabin to enjoy a well-earned repose.
Hardly had he turned in when, just as seven bells was striking, the
look-out reported four boats ahead.
Instantly there was a rush to see what manner of craft they were,
and it was soon evident that they were indeed the boats from the
burning ship.
By this time there was a fairly high sea running, and the boats,
having perceived our approach, had turned and lay on their oars,
with their bows facing us, the men giving an occasional stroke to
keep the boats so that they met the rollers bows on.
"She was no ordinary trader," observed Silas Touchstone, pointing to
the little flotilla. "Yon boats are crowded to excess. There's a
couple of hundred aboard 'em, or I'm a Dutchman."
"They would never reach land with the wind piping up as it is
doing," said Captain Jeremy, who had been roused from his cabin,
giving a hasty glance to windward. "Stand by to shorten sail."
Already three of the boats had shipped several seas, for we could
see the men bailing vigorously. There was not a moment to be lost.
It being now eight bells, we hoisted our ensign, according to
custom, and the sight of the Cross of St. George was hailed by a
cheer that was faintly borne to our ears from the still distant
boats. If the survivors had had any doubts as to our nationality,
they were now set at rest.
"Hands shorten sail!" Hardly had the last notes of the bos'n's
mate's whistle died away, when the topmen were flying away aloft;
the courses were taken up, the topsail yards lowered, and slowly the
_Golden Hope_ began to lose way.
"Women and children too, by Jove!" ejaculated Captain Jeremy, as the
boats made towards us. "'Tis well we are close to land, or we would
be hard put to it to feed them."
"'Twill mean half rations, in any case," replied 'Enery, "though the
men will not mind that."
"I'm sure they won't," assented the Captain. "But stand by; let the
men prepare bowlines, or we'll never get the women aboard without
mishap."
A long-boat, with most of its passengers huddled on the bottom
boards, was the first to get alongside, and willing hands helped the
weary men to climb our heaving sides. This done, 'twas easier for
our people to board the boat and fix the bowlines round the waists
of the female passengers; and without a hitch, though the frightened
women made no little commotion, we had them safely aboard. The crew
followed, and we having no further use for the boat, she was cast
adrift.
The second and third boats were also relieved of their human loads
and likewise sent adrift, but the fourth gave us more trouble.
Being handled with less skill than her consorts, she crashed
broadside on to the _Golden Hope_ just as the brig was recovering
from a heavy roll, with the result that some of the boat's planks
were stove in and she commenced to fill.
In the confusion several of the passengers, despite the assurances
of the officers and seamen in the boat, jumped to their feet, so
that the already heavily laden craft was in imminent danger of
capsizing.
Ropes were thrown from the towering sides of the _Golden Hope_
amidst a loud shout of "Women first!" Yet (though some excuse must
be made for their cowardice) several of the men sprang for our
bulwarks. Others, with more presence of mind, assisted in slipping
the bowlines over the shoulders of the women; and as each one was
hoisted aboard the danger of the boat being swamped became less.
Just as the last female passenger was being hauled up, the knot in
the rope that held her became unhitched-no doubt 'twas a landlubber
who tied it--and the next instant she was struggling in the sea.
It so happened that at that moment I was standing in the main chains
with a coil of rope in my hands, ready to throw it into the boat.
Fastening one end of the line round my waist, and calling to some of
our men to tail on to the other end, I took a flying leap into the
water. In my haste I miscalculated the distance that the brig
rolled, and ere I struck the surface I came into violent contact
with the side of the _Golden Hope_ as she swung back to larboard.
Half-dazed with the blow and well-nigh breathless, I plunged, or
rather rolled, into the water. The shock of the immersion recovered
me some what, and I struck out to where I had seen the girl sink for
the second time.
Guided by the bubbles that rose to the surface, I swam downwards for
nearly two fathoms, till just beneath me I saw her feebly struggling
form.
Grasping her by the hair--the only time I have ever served a woman
thus--I reached the surface in a few strokes, and called to the men
to haul handsomely on the rope. Then disengaging my hand and
throwing my left arm tightly round the girl's waist, I waited for
the _Golden Hope_ to come to the end of a roll, and shouted to the
men to heave roundly. This they did, and in a trice we were on the
deck of the brig.
By this time the work of rescuing the other occupants of the boat
had been completed. The female passengers had been sent into the
after cabins, there to be rigged out in motley garments of blankets,
sailcloth, and what not. The male passengers were sent willy-nilly
into the fo'c'sle, where they and the crew of the lost ship were
accommodated with the spare clothing of our men. The captain of the
vessel, a short, red-faced man, was almost beside himself at the
loss of his vessel, asserting in no mild tones that she had been
fired maliciously, and that he knew the culprit and would hand him
up to justice at the first port we touched. Strangely enough, he
uttered no expression of gratitude for the deliverance of the ship's
company and passengers from the perils of the deep, nor did he seem
sensible of the services we had rendered.
The ill-fated vessel was the _Phoenix_ of London, bound for Richmond
and other parts of Virginia with a full cargo and a great number of
settlers, mostly men of means who were dissatisfied with the state
of things at home, and hoped to live with greater freedom in the New
World. Many of them had lost their all, yet the worst sufferers
seemed by far the most stouthearted of the forlorn crowd.
The _Phoenix_ was but four days out from the Downs when, just after
sunset, the alarm of fire was raised, and soon dense volumes of
smoke were seen issuing from the fore hatch, apparently from the
lamp and oil room. Already the flames had taken a good hold, and in
spite of the utmost efforts of the crew, aided by many of the
passengers, the fire steadily gained, till just before midnight the
order was given to abandon the ship.
Directly the whole of the passengers and crew were embarked, the
boats pushed off and shaped a course for the Lizard, and having the
burning ship 'twixt them and us, they were prevented by the thick
cloud of smoke and the roar of the flames from seeing our lights or
hearing our signal guns.
Daylight showed them our sails well down to the west'ard, so, on
making sure that we were proceeding in their direction, they
abandoned the attempt to reach land, and waited for us to come up.
'Twas as well they did so, for all were of the opinion that none of
the boats would have reached shore.
Having been unable to change my saturated clothing, the after cabins
being, as I have said, given over to the women, I borrowed some
clothes from one of the men, putting on a thick pilot coat over all,
for the air was raw, especially after our lengthy sojourn in the
Tropics.
Then, to regain warmth, I began to pace the deck vigorously. In the
midst of my walk the poop door opened, and a girl appeared. In spite
of her quaint appearance--for she wore a skirt fashioned from a red
blanket and a coat that belonged to Captain Jeremy--my heart gave a
sudden bound, for I was face to face with my sister Constance!