"Well, Thudicumb, I hope by noon we may at last get a glimpse of the
sun," said Captain Davenport to his first officer, as they walked the
deck of the _Bussorah Merchant_, homeward bound from the East Indies,
and at that time rolling on over the long heaving seas of the Atlantic.
The sky was overcast, but ever and anon a gleam of light burst forth
amid the clouds, playing on the foaming crest of a wave. It was blowing
hard, but had evidently been blowing much harder, of which fact the
condition of the Indiaman gave evidence. A portion of the starboard
bulwarks were stove in, one of her quarter boats was shattered, and
other slight damages were visible.
"We must be ready for him, sir, at all events," said the first officer,
looking at his watch. "It is not far off noon now."
"Tell Oliver to bring me my sextant," said the captain, as the mate
descended from the poop into his cabin.
Mr Thudicumb soon returned, bringing his own instrument, and followed
by a boy with the captain's. Continuing their walk, they looked
anxiously every now and then at the spot in the heavens where they
expected the sun to appear. They were accompanied by one who seemed to
take as much interest as they did in what was going forward. When they
turned, he turned; when they looked up at the sky, he looked up also;
balancing himself when the ship rolled as they did, by leaning over to
the opposite direction to which she was heeling. He, however, could not
have afforded them any assistance in their observation, for though his
eye and the expression of his countenance exhibited much sagacity, he
was of the canine species--a large dog--a magnificent-looking fellow,
who could, the crew declared, for he was a great favourite with them, do
everything but talk--and, they might have added, take a meridional
observation, or a lunar.
Mr Thudicumb again looked at his watch. "There he is, sir," he
exclaimed at length.
He and the captain stopped in their walk; their sextants were quickly at
their eyes; and there they stood, their feet planted firmly on the
heaving deck, in an attitude long practice alone could have enabled them
to maintain. A clear space was seen in the sky, increasing rapidly, and
yet not altogether blue, but the vapour which drove across it was not
sufficiently thick to prevent the sun's rays descending upon the sea.
"She has dipped, sir," said the first officer.
"She has," observed the captain.
The sun's elevation was read off on the index, and the instruments were
returned to their cases. The calculation was very quickly worked out on
a scrap of card.
"Make it noon, Mr Thudicumb," said the captain, as, returning the case
to the young cabin-boy, he directed him to take it below. While the
captain and his first officer were making their observation, a group of
midshipmen had collected on the deck with their quadrants in their
hands, doing their best to shoot the sun, but their less experienced
eyes could make but little of it in that heavy sea; and when they came
to read off their observations, they were somewhat surprised at the
wonderful difference which existed among them. Stopping to listen to a
few remarks made to them by the captain, they hurried off the deck to
deposit their quadrants in places of safety. The dog all the time stood
with his feet firmly planted on the deck, watching the captain, as if he
fully understood what was going on. Captain Davenport, as he turned,
patted him on the head. "You are a wise dog, Merlin," he observed; "but
you cannot take an observation yet." Merlin wagged his tail as if he
had received a compliment, or, at all events, well pleased at the notice
taken of him.
The captain was a tall man of spare figure, his white locks and
weather-beaten countenance making him appear considerably older than his
firm, yet light and active step, seemed to warrant. His eye, too, was
still full of life and fire, and his voice clear and strong, evidence of
which had been given when he issued his orders in the late gale, and
when, by his promptitude and decision, he had saved the ship, seemingly
on the point of destruction.
Scarcely had eight bells been struck, when the voice of the boatswain
from the forecastle was heard shouting, "A vessel on the lee bow, sir!
A dismasted ship! It can be nothing else!"
Captain Davenport went forward, followed by Merlin.
"Where away is she, Mr Tarbox?" he asked of the boatswain.
"There, sir, you will catch her over the bumkin-head," answered the
boatswain. "I saw her again just as you stepped on the forecastle. She
cannot have gone down in the meantime!"
"I hope not indeed," said the captain, looking out eagerly in the
direction towards which the boatswain pointed. At last he too caught
sight of a dark object lifted on the top of a sea. "A dismasted ship;
no doubt about that," he observed. "We will keep away for her. There
are probably people on board, and although it would be a difficult
matter to take them off while this sea is running, we may do so if it
goes down, as it has been gradually doing since daylight."
The Indiaman stood on, now rising to the summit of a sea, now gliding
into the valley below, gradually approaching the dark object which had
been discovered. The boatswain had gone aloft, and quickly returned.
"No doubt about it, Captain Davenport. She is a big ship--lost her
masts, no doubt, in the gale; and from the way she is rolling, I have a
notion she has no small amount of water in her. If we had not sighted
her, it is my opinion that those on board would be fathoms down in the
ocean, as she will be before another sun rises."
"We will do what we can to save any people on board her," said Captain
Davenport. "Get the life-boat ready for lowering, Mr Tarbox."
"Ay, ay, sir; I am ready to go in her," answered the boatswain.
"Perhaps Mr Thudicumb may wish to go, or the second officer; but if
not, Tarbox, I would intrust her to you more readily than to anybody."
The news that a dismasted ship was in sight brought all the passengers
who were below on deck, and numerous glasses were now turned towards
her. No signs, however, of any one being on board were discovered. She
was a complete wreck; the masts had gone by the board, the bulwarks were
stove in, the caboose and booms and everything on deck had been swept
clear away. The Indiaman stood on, passing close to leeward of her.
"She is deserted, sir; little doubt about that," said Mr Thudicumb,
examining the ship. "The people thought she was going down, and took to
their boats. Better have stuck to her in such a sea as they must have
had to encounter. Little chance of any boat living."
"Haul the tacks aboard then, Mr Thudicumb; down with the helm," said
the captain. "Unless for the sake of rescuing any fellow-creatures, I
would not risk a boat to board her, while the sea runs as high as it now
does."
As he was speaking, Merlin had been eagerly watching the wreck; and now,
stretching out his fore-feet and neck towards her, he uttered a loud
mournful howl or wail, which sounded strangely wild and sad to all who
heard it.
"What is the matter, Merlin?" asked the captain, bending down and
patting the dog's head.
"That dog has got more sense than many human beings," observed the
boatswain. "Now, I should not be surprised but what he knows there is
somebody on board that craft--dead or dying, may be--just as well as if
he saw them. If I was our skipper, I would not leave that wreck without
an overhauling."
Just then a human head was seen issuing from the companion-hatch. It
was that of a young boy. He sprang on deck and waved a handkerchief
wildly, apparently shouting with all his power, though his voice could
not be heard amidst the roaring of the sea and the lashing of the ropes
as the ship was luffed up close to the wind. Captain Davenport seized
his speaking-trumpet and shouted, "We will keep by you! Do not fear!"
Just then another head was seen. "A young girl!" cried several of those
looking on. A mere child she seemed at that distance, her light hair
blowing about in the wind.
"Bless them!" said old Tarbox; "I would go to help them if there was
twice the sea there is on."
Preparations were now made for heaving the ship to, but the captain was
anxious to wait, in the hopes of the sea going down still more before
night, when there might be less risk in bringing the people from off the
wreck. A great risk under similar circumstances is run when those on
board a ship on fire or likely to sink leap hurriedly in too great
numbers into the boat alongside. In many such instances the boat has
been swamped, and the lives of all in her sacrificed. Here, such a
danger was not likely to occur, as no crew apparently remained on board.
The question, however, was, whether the wreck would float till the sea
had sufficiently gone down to enable a boat to board her without risk.
As the ship gradually receded from the wreck, the young boy was seen to
lift up his hands imploringly, as if to beg for assistance. At length
the boatswain came aft and addressed the captain.
"If you will let me have the life-boat, sir, there are six hands ready
to go in her; and I will undertake to board that craft, and bring off
any people we may find alive. To my mind, from the way she rolls, she
has not got many hours longer to swim; and if she was to go down, those
young people we saw would have to go down in her, and that's what my
eyes would not like to watch."
"No indeed, Tarbox," said the captain. "Mr Thudicumb, what do you
say?"
"I was going to volunteer, sir," said the first officer; "but though I
yield to no other man on board in the management of a boat, I
acknowledge that Tarbox can handle one in a sea better than any man I
have ever met with; and on that account, and not because I am afraid of
risking my life, I yield to him."
"Thank you, Mr Thudicumb," said the boatswain. "I should have said the
same thing of you, sir; but you have a wife and children at home, and it
matters little what becomes of old Dick Tarbox."
Once more the ship was brought up as close as she could be to the wreck,
and again being hove to, the life-boat, with the six hands selected by
the boatswain, was carefully lowered. And now everybody on board
watched her with anxious eyes, as she pulled towards the wreck. The
young lad saw her coming, and was observed to be bending down as if to
announce the event to some one below. Again the little girl's head
appeared above the deck, but the lad would not allow her to come up
further, evidently being afraid of her being jerked overboard--an event
but too likely to occur, from the way the ship was rolling. On pulled
the boat, now sinking down deep into the trough of the sea, which curled
into mountain billows, and seemed about to overwhelm her; now she rose
up high on the crest of a wave. Many of those who gazed at her held
their breath, scarcely believing that she could possibly live amid the
tumult of waters. Slowly she proceeded, guided by the well-practised
hand of the old boatswain. She was close to the wreck. Now she seemed
to sink far down below the deck, now to rise up, as if the next instant
she would be thrown upon it. Could any human being ever manage to gain
the wreck from that tossing boat? Yes, yes! a man stands up in the
boat. He makes a spring! He has gained the deck, hauling himself up by
a rope which he has clutched. He waves off the boat till he is ready to
return to her.
Dick Tarbox was the man. He was seen to leap down the hatchway. For
some time he did not appear. What could have become of him? "There he
is! there he is!" shouted several voices. He came, bearing a young girl
in his arms. The boat again drew near the dismasted ship. Those who
looked on held their breath, for how could he manage to convey his
burden to the tossing boat? He stood for a minute or more waiting, but
not irresolute. His eye was watching the boat. He was calculating the
rolling of the ship. He made a signal to one of the men to be ready to
receive the girl. Then, quick as lightning, he leaped across the deck,
and dropped her--so it seemed--into the man's arms. The boat again kept
away from the ship, and the boatswain disappeared once more down the
hatchway.
"He will bring the boy this time!" But no; he came up carrying a far
heavier burden--a man wrapped in a cloak, and apparently unable to help
himself. Dick shouted to one of the crew to go aboard and help him.
Together they got the sick man into the boat. The little girl clasped
her hands in her anxiety as she saw him lowered down. Sorrowfully she
stooped over him, supporting his head in her arms; forgetting,
apparently, where she was, and the fearful danger to which she was still
exposed. The boy had followed the boatswain, apparently with the
intention of leaping into the boat by himself. Dick was seen to hold
him back: then he lifted him in his arms, and, waiting for the right
moment, sprang into the boat.
No one on board had watched these proceedings with more apparent
eagerness than Merlin; and as the boat came alongside the ship, he ran
to the gangway to receive those whom she brought. The little girl was
first lifted up the side, and received by the captain, Merlin instantly
coming up to lick her hands and attract her attention. She had no
thought, however, for any one round her, but endeavoured to look down
into the boat to watch her companions. The sick man was next hoisted
up; the boy, till he was safe, refusing to leave the boat. He then,
aided by Dick Tarbox, hauled himself up on deck.
"We will carry him aft, and take him at once to my cabin," said the
captain. "He looks very ill."
This was done; the young people keeping by the sick man's side,
anxiously gazing on his countenance, apparently scarcely aware where
they were, and paying no attention to any one else.
"Is he your father, young gentleman?" asked the captain, as the sick man
was placed on the bed.
"Oh yes, yes!" answered the boy. "But can you do nothing for him? He
is, I am afraid, very, very ill."
At that moment the surgeon, who had been attending on a patient below,
came up, and entering the cabin, looked at the sick man's countenance
and felt his pulse. The look he gave the captain was observed by the
little girl: she seemed to understand it.
"Oh do, sir, tell me what is the matter with him! Will he die?" she
asked, bursting into tears.
"There is no time to be lost," observed the surgeon, hurrying away to
his own cabin without answering the question.
"Our lives are in God's hands, young lady," said the captain, in a kind
tone. "The doctor will do all he can for your papa; be assured of
that."
The surgeon instantly returned with a restorative; after taking which
the sick man recovered slightly, and was able to utter a few words in a
faint voice. He recognised his children, and beckoned them to approach.
"I am leaving you, I fear," he whispered; "for I feel as I have never
felt before. Walter, take care of Emily; never leave her. Think of
your dear mother and me sometimes." Then he turned his glance towards
the captain. "These, sir, will be orphans before many hours have
passed," he said, in a faltering voice. "You, perhaps, are a father,
and can feel for me. As a fellow-creature, you can do so. You have
been the means of preserving the lives of those children; watch over
them, and do what you can for them. They will tell you about
themselves. I cannot speak more."
While he was uttering these words, he seemed about to relapse into a
state of insensibility. His eye was growing dim. He stretched out his
hands, however, and took those of his children; and thus, almost without
uttering another word, his spirit passed away.
"We will leave your father now," said the surgeon; and made a sign to
the captain, who led the boy and girl out of the cabin.
The boy seemed to understand what had happened; but there was an
anxious, scared, and inquiring expression on the countenance of the
little girl, which showed that even now she was not certain that her
father had been taken from her.
Captain Davenport was a father, and a kind, affectionate one, and knew
how to sympathise with the bereaved children. He had been in the cabin
but a few minutes when a midshipman entered.
"She is sinking, sir!" he exclaimed.
Captain Davenport hurried on deck. The boy had caught the words, and
followed him. Just then Merlin uttered a low, mournful howl. They were
just in time to see the after-part of the dismasted ship, as, plunging
head first, she went down beneath the foaming billows.
"We were but just in time to save you, my lad," said the captain,
turning to the boy, whose hand Merlin was licking, as if to congratulate
him on his escape.
"Indeed you were, sir," answered the boy; "and we are very, very
grateful to you, and to that brave sailor who carried my father and
Emily out of the ship, and helped me into the boat. I want to thank him
more particularly, and so would my father; but oh, sir, do you think he
will soon recover out of that fearful swoon? Or do, do tell me, for I
did not like to ask you before my sister, is he--is he really--dead?"
The boy's voice dropped as he spoke.
"I fear, Walter, that he is dead," answered the captain. "But we will
do our best to comfort your little sister; and so, I am sure, will you.
You have reason to be thankful that he was permitted thus to die quietly
in bed, and to know that your lives were spared."
"Oh yes, yes! I know," answered the boy, hiding his face in his hands.
It was some hours before Emily could understand that her father could
never again speak to her or caress her. Her brother's anxiety to
console her probably prevented him from so poignantly feeling his own
loss.
The captain and all on board treated the young orphans with the greatest
kindness and consideration. The following day their father's body was
committed to its ocean grave; and Walter and Emily felt that for the
future they must be all in all to each other.
"Yes," thought Walter, as he gazed at his sister's fair and gentle
countenance, "I will watch over her--and die for her, if needs be--to
protect her from harm."