IN WHICH IS SHIPWRECK OF OTHER SORT
After the fashion of these gulf storms, this one tarried not in its
coming, nor offered any clemency when it had arrived. Where but a
half-hour since the heavens had been fair, the sea rippling, suave and
kind, now the sky was not visible at all and the tumbling waves about
us rolled savagely as in a nature wholly changed. The wind sang
ominously overhead, as with lift and plunge we drove on into a bank of
mist. A chill as of doom swiftly had replaced the balm of the southern
sky; and forsooth, all the mercy of the world seemed lost and gone.
And as our craft, laboring, thrust forward blindly into this reek,
with naught of comfort on any hand, nor even the dimmest ray of hope
visible from any fixed thing on ahead, in like travail of going, in
like groaning to the very soul, the bark of my life now lay in the
welter, helpless, reft of storm and strife, blind, counseled by no
fixed ray ahead. I know not what purpose remained in me, that, like
the ship which bore us, I still, dumbly and without conscious
purpose, forged onward to some point fixed by reason or desire before
reason and desire had been engulfed by this final unkindness of the
world. For myself, I cared little or none at all. The plunge of the
boat, the shriek of the wind, the wild magic and mystery of it, would
have comported not ill with a strong man's tastes even in hours more
happy, and now, especially, they jumped with the wild protest of a
soul eager for some outlet of action or excitement. But for these
others, these women--this woman--these boys, all brought into this
danger by my own mad folly, ah! when the thought of these arose, a
swift remorse caught me; and though for myself I feared not at all,
for these I feared.
Needs must, therefore, use every cool skilled resource that lay at
hand. No time now for broken hearts to ask attention, the ship must be
sailed. Crippled or not, what she had of help for us must be got out
of her, used, fostered, nourished. All the art of the navigator must
be charged with this duty. We must win through. And, as many a man who
has seen danger will testify, the great need brought to us all a great
calm and a steady precision in that which needed doing.
I saw Peterson at the wheel, wet to the skin, as now and again a
seventh wave, slow, portentous, deadly-deliberate, showed ahead of us,
advanced, reared and pounded down on us with its tons of might. But he
only shook the brine from his eyes and held her up, waiting for the
slow pulse of our crippled engine to come on.
"Can't keep my pipe lit!" he called to me, as I stood beside him; and
at last, Peterson, in a real time of danger, seemed altogether happy
and altogether free of apprehension beyond that regarding his pipe.
At the first breaking of the storm I had, of course, ordered all ports
closed, and had sent both my young companions to the ladies' cabin
aft, as the driest part of the boat. Even there, the water that
sometimes fell upon our decks as the great waves broke, poured aft and
even broke about the cabin, drenching everything above deck. It was
man's work that was to be done now, yet none could bear a hand in it
save the engineer and the steersman. I was, therefore, ready sternly
to reprove Jean Lafitte when, presently, I saw him making the perilous
passage forward, clinging to the rail and wet to the skin before he
could reach the forward deck. But he protested so earnestly and seemed
withal so fit and keen, that I relented and allowed him to take his
place by us at the wheel, showing him as well as I could, on the
chart, the course we were trying to hold--the mouth of a long channel,
six miles or more, dredged by the government across a foot of the bay
and making through to deeper and more sheltered waters beyond.
"S'posin' we don't hit her, in this fog!" asked Jean Lafitte.
"It is our business to do that," was my reply. "In an hour or so more
we shall know. How did you leave the ladies, Jean?"
"Jimmy, he's sicker'n anything," was his reply, "except the old lady,
and she's sicker'n Jimmy! The young lady, Miss Emory, she's all right,
an' she's holdin' their heads. She says she don't get sick. Neither do
I--ain't that funny? But gee, this is rougher'n any waves ever was on
our lake. What're you goin' to do?"
"Hold straight ahead, Jean," I answered. "Now, wouldn't you better go
back to the others?"
"Naw, I ain't scared--much. I told Jimmy, I did, any pirate ought to
be ashamed to get sick. But they're all scared. So'm I, some," he
added frankly.
I might have made some confession of my own, had I liked, for I did
not, in the least, fancy the look of things; but after a time, I
compromised with sturdy Jean by sending him below into the dining
saloon, whence he could look out through the glass front and see the
tumbling sea ahead. Through the glazed housing I could see him
standing, hands in pockets, legs wide, gazing out in the simple
confidence that all was well, and enjoying the tumult and excitement
of it all in his boyish ignorance.
"He don't know!" grinned Peterson to me, and I only nodded in silence.
"Where are we, Peterson?" I asked, putting a finger on the wet chart
before us.
"I don't know," replied the old man. "It depends on the drift, which
we can't calculate. Soundings mean nothing, for she's shallow for
miles. If the fog would break, so we could see the light--there ain't
any fog-buoy on that channel mouth, and it's murder that there ain't.
It's this d----d fog that makes it bad."
I looked at my watch. It was now going on five o'clock, and in this
light, it soon would be night for us. Peterson caught the time, and
frowned. "Wish't we was in," said he. "No use trying to anchor unless
we must, anyhow--she'll ride mighty wet out here. Better buck on into
it."
So we bucked on in, till five, till five-thirty, till six, and all
the boat's lights revealed was a yellow circle of fog that traveled
with us. Wet and chilled, we two stood at the wheel together, in such
hard conditions that no navigator and no pilot could have done much
more than grope.
"We must have missed her!" admitted the old skipper at last. "I don't
fancy the open gulf, and I don't fancy piling her up on some shore in
here. What do you think we should do, Mr. Harry?"
"Listen!" said I, raising a hand.
"There's no bell-buoy," said he.
"No, but hark. Don't you hear the birds--there's a million geese and
swans and ducks calling over yonder."
"Right, by George!" said he. "But where?"
"They'd not be at sea, Peterson. They must be in some fresh-water lake
inside some key or island. On the Long Key there's such an inland
lake."
"It's beyond the channel, maybe?" said he. But he signaled Williams to
go slow, and that faithful unseen Cyclops, on whose precious engines
so much depended, obeyed and presently put out a head at his hatch,
quickly withdrawing it as a white sea came inboard.
"We'll crawl on in," said Peterson. "The light can't be a thousand
miles from here. If only there was a nigger man and a dinner bell
beside the light--that's the trouble. And now--good God! _There she
goes!_"
With a jar which shook the good boat to the core, we felt the bottom
come up from the depths and smite us. Our headway ceased, save for a
sickening crunching crawl. The waves piled clear across our port bow
as we swung. And so we hung, the gulf piling in on us in our yellow
rimmed world. And at the lift and hollow of the sea we rose and
pounded sullenly down, in such fashion as would have broken the back
of any boat less stanch than ours.
Here, in an eye's flash, was danger tangible and real. I heard a
shriek from the cabin aft, and called out for them all to keep below
and keep the ports closed. Peterson had the power off in an instant,
and swung her head as best he could with the dying headway; but it
only put her farther on the shoal.
"It's the Timbalier Shoals!" he screamed. "Oh, d---- it all! We'll
lose her, now." I recalled that his concern seemed rather for his boat
than the lives she carried.
Jean Lafitte came bounding up the companionway, his face pale, but
ready for ship's discipline. "Come," said I quickly, "help me with the
anchor." A moment later, we sprung the capstan clutch, and I heard the
brief growl of the anchor chain as the big hook ran free. Glad enough
I was to think of the extra size it had. We eased her down and made
fast under Peterson's orders now, and so swung into the head of the
sea, which mercilessly lifted us and flung us down like a monkey
seeking to crack a cocoanut shell. Williams joined us now, and Willie
and John, pale as Jean Lafitte, came up from the forecastle, all
shouting and jabbering. I ran aft as soon as might be, and only pulled
up at the cabin door to summon such air of calm as I might. I rapped,
but followed in, not waiting. Helena met me, pale, her eyes wide, her
hair disheveled, but none the less mistress of herself.
"What is it?" she demanded. "What makes it jolt?"
"We've gone aground," said I. "She does pound a little, doesn't she?"
She looked out into the wild night, across which the voices of the
confused wild fowl came like souls in torment.
"This is terrible!" said she simply. "Are we lost?"
"No," said I. "Let us hear no such talk. Go below, now, and keep
quiet. We may pass the night here, or we may conclude after a little
to go on ahead a little farther. We've just dropped the anchor. The
island's just over there a way." I did not care to be too specific.
"What is it, oh, what is it?" I heard the faint voice of Mrs. Daniver.
"Oh, this is awful. I--am--going--to--die, going to _die_!" The agony
of _mal de mer_ was hers now of full license, for the choppy sea was
sustained on the bosom of a long ground swell, coming we knew not
whence.
"Jimmy!" I called down. "Are you there?"
"Yes, Sir," answered L'Olonnois bravely, from his place on the floor.
"I'm feeling pretty funny, but I'll be all right--maybe."
"Stay right where you are--and you also, Miss Emory. I must go forward
now, and just came to tell you it's all right. If there should be any
need, we'll let you know. Now keep down, and keep the door shut."
"I'm--going--to--_die_!" moaned Mrs. Daniver as I left. Helena made no
outcry, but that horror possessed her I knew very well, for every
reason told us that our case was desperate. The boat might start her
seams or break her back, any instant, now.
I found the men trying to make soundings all about us as best they
could with boat hooks and a spare spar. But it came to little.
"Peterson," said I, "you're ship's master. What are your orders?"
"Unlash the boat covers," said he. "Get even the dingey ready.
Williams, close your hatch and bear a hand to swing the big boat out
in her davits. Set the bottom plugs in well. And Mr. Harry, you and
John, the Chink, had better get some stores and a case or so of
bottled water aboard the long boat. Have you got the slickers and rugs
ready, and plenty of clothes? We'll just be ready if it happens. I
don't know where that damned light or the damned channel is, but the
damned ducks maybe know where some damned thing is. We'll run for
them, if we can't ride her out."
We all hurried now, Jean Lafitte at my heels, silent and faithful as a
dog, aiding me as I piled blankets and coats and rugs from our cabin
into the ship's boat, which swayed and swung perilously at the davits.
What with the aid of John, the China boy, and Willy, the deck-hand, we
also got supplies aboard her, I scarce knew what, except that there
seemed abundance. And then we stood waiting for what might happen,
helpless in the hands of the offended elements, and silent all. I
held Jean's hand in my own. He was loyal to his mate, even now.
"Jimmy'd be here," he said. "'Course he would, only he's so awful
sick. I ain't sick--yet, but I feel funny, someway."
Peterson stood looking ahead, but was anxious. "She's coming up
stronger," said he, "and two points on the port quarter. We're going
on harder all the time. Anchor's dragging. Afraid we're going to lose
her, Mr. Harry."
"Hush!" said I, nodding to the boy. "And turn on the search-light. It
seems to me I hear breakers in there."
"That's so," said the old man. "Hook on the light's battery, Williams,
and let's see what we can see."
The strong beam, wavering from side to side, plowed a furry path into
the fog. It disclosed at first only the succession of angry incoming
waves, each, as it passed, thudding us down on the bar of shell and
mud and slime. But at last, off to starboard and well astern in our
new position, riding at anchor, we raised a faint white line of broken
water which seemed a constant feature; and now and then caught the low
boom of the surf.
"She ain't a half mile, over yonder," I heard Willy, the deck-hand,
say. "An' we could almost walk it if it wasn't for the sea."
"Yes, sir," said Williams, "we'd do fine in there now, with them
boats. When we hit that white water----"
"Shut up!" ordered Peterson. "Safe as a church, here or there, you
lubbers. Stand by your tackle, and keep your chin. Mr. Harry, tell the
ladies just to wrap up a bit, because--well, maybe, because----"
"Call me when it is time, Peterson," said I; and moved aft, holding
Jean Lafitte by the arm.
"Gee!" said he, as he dropped, wet and out of breath, into the cabin;
and "Gee!" remarked a very pale L'Olonnois in return, gamely as he
could. And Mrs. Daniver's moans went rhythmic with the pound of the
keel on the shoal.
"What shall we do?" asked Helena at last calmly. "Auntie is very sick.
I am beginning to fear for her, it is such a bad attack. This is as
rough as I ever saw it on the Channel."
"There is no danger," said I, "but Peterson and I just thought that if
she kept on pounding in this way, it might be better to go ashore."
I spoke lightly, but well enough I knew the risk of trying to launch a
boat in such a sea; and what the surf might be, none could say. Ah,
how I wished that my empty assurance might be the truth. For I knew
that, anyway we looked, only danger stared back at us now, on every
hand.