"Do I think it would be wise to put on a life-belt, Mr Lane?"
"Yes."
The words were shouted into the ear of one of the speakers, and yelled
back as, like others about the vessel, they clung to the side, now to be
raised high, now to be plunged down again, as the _Planet_, with only a
rag or two of storm canvas set, rode over a huge wave and seemed as if
turned into some new and ponderous kind of diving apparatus about to
seek the wonders at the bottom of the eastern seas. But after her
tremendous plunge right into a hollow she rose again, shook off the
water which deluged the deck and staggered on.
Just then a dimly seen figure sidled up to the two speakers, held on
tightly, and shouted--
"I say, Mr Rimmer, isn't that man steering very wildly?"
"Who's to steer tamely, sir, in a sea like this? Man has enough to do
to keep from being washed overboard."
The newcomer nodded and took a fresh grip of the top of the bulwark as a
sea came over the bows again, and swept along the deck, leaving them
breathless and panting, with the water streaming from oilskin and
mackintosh.
"Don't you want to put on a life-belt, too?" shouted the first speaker,
as in the darkness of that terrible night his words seemed to be
snatched away as soon as uttered.
"Yes; it would be safer; where are they?"
"Bah! Nonsense! Look down there. Suppose you had on a life-belt, what
could you do in such a sea? You'd both be knocked to pieces or have the
breath choked out of you in five minutes. Stick to the ship while you
can. That's good advice."
"Is there any danger?" shouted the young man who was nearest the last
speaker.
"Of course there is. No one could be in such a tornado without being in
danger."
"But shall we be wrecked?" asked the fresh-comer.
"Heaven only knows, sir. We're all amongst the islands and reefs, and
if one of them is in our way nothing can save us."
No words were spoken then for some time, and every man on board the
_Planet_ brig, which after a short stay at Singapore was off on a voyage
of discovery along the coast of New Guinea, clung to bulwark, shroud and
stay, or sheltered himself the best way he could from the waves which,
like the wind, seemed ready to pluck them from their hold.
Everything possible in the way of navigation had been done when the
frightful storm came on, after scant warning in the way of a falling
barometer. Then nothing was left for the unfortunates on board but to
hold on and wait for the end of the hurricane as they were swept along
swiftly in its course.
Three days before, they had been sailing gently within sight of the
towering volcanoes of Java. Now, as Mr Rimmer, the chief mate, said,
they were "anywhere," the wind having veered round as if blowing in a
vast circle, and all government of the brig being pretty well at an end.
Matters had been bad enough while it was daylight. When darkness came
on the little hope which had remained was pretty well quenched; and
Oliver Lane began to think of the home in England that he might never
see again, and of how different the reality of the expedition was from
all that he had pictured in his rather vivid imagination.
When the trip was planned, and he obtained permission to join it through
the influence of his father, a famous naturalist, he saw himself sailing
amid glorious islands, with gorgeous tropical foliage hanging over seas
of intense blue, glittering like precious stones in the burning
sunshine; coral reefs seen through transparent water with their groves
of wondrous seaweeds, and fish of brilliant tints flashing their scale
armour as they swam here and there. Then, too, his thoughts had run
riot over the shore trips among lands where the birds were dazzling in
colour, and the insects painted by nature's hand with hues impossible to
describe; but, instead of these delights to one of eager temperament,
they had encountered this fearful storm. The captain and man after man
had been disabled, and for the rest as they tore onward through the
spray, mist and darkness, grim death seemed to be just ahead, for a
touch upon one of the many reefs which studded those seas meant instant
destruction, since no boat could have been lowered to live.
"Never say die," shouted Ezra Rimmer, the mate, in his ear. "We may
ride it out."
Oliver Lane made no reply. He was half stunned by the deafening roar,
and his mind after the many hours of suffering had grown confused; but
as the last comer twisted a line about his waist and secured it to the
belaying-pins close at hand, the mate went on shouting a few words from
time to time as he tried to make out their unfortunate companions.
"These storms end suddenly," he shouted. "Don't understand 'em--
electricity or something to do with the volcanoes. Keep a stout heart,
sir. If we do have to die, I don't think it will be very bad. Hold
tight whatever you do. As aforesaid, `Never say die.'"
Oliver Lane turned his head to him and tried to make out the expression
on the face of a man who could speak so coolly about death. But it was
too dark, and turning back to the companion who had joined them, he
reached his arm farther round the shroud he was clinging to and touched
him.
The young man raised his drooping head.
"Where's Drew?" shouted Oliver Lane; but the wind bore away his words,
and he yelled out his question again.
"Cabin!" came back in a temporary cessation of the turmoil of roaring
wind, hissing spray, and creaking and groaning of the vessel's timbers.
Oliver Lane tried to ask another question, but the wind caught him full
in the face with such force that for a few moments he could only gasp
and try to recover his breath, while directly after the vessel gave so
tremendous a pitch and roll, he was jerked from his footing and hung by
his hands with the sensation of having his arms jerked from their
sockets.
But the young Englishman had been engaged in similar struggles for
hours, and recovering himself he shouted, "Panton?"
"Hullo!"
"Is Drew hurt?"
"Yes. So am I."
"So we are all, Mr Panton," yelled the mate. "If we get through this
we shall all be covered with bruises, let alone broken ribs and other
bones--Yah!--Hold on."
The advice was not needed, for the two young men with him had suddenly
seen something grey loom up in front, and taught by experience that it
was a mass of foaming water, they clung for dear life, sheltering
themselves as well as they could beneath the bulwark as the wave curled
over and thundered along the deck with a hideous crashing din that
literally stunned them. When it had passed over Oliver Lane shook his
head and tried with his smarting eyes to get rid of the water and make
out whether his companions were safe.
To his horror Arthur Panton was hanging from the belaying pin to which
he had lashed himself, with his head down and his hands close to his
feet, apparently lifeless, while the mate was gone.
It is good medicine for the mind to see others in peril, for it rouses
to action the best feelings in our nature and subdues the love of self.
In an instant Oliver had forgotten his own sufferings, and, holding on
by one hand, he tried to raise his companion to his old position, but
for a few moments in vain. Then the reaction came, and the young man
made a brave effort to assist, and soon after he was upright and
clinging with his arms over the bulwark, gasping heavily to recover his
breath.
Oliver Lane's next movement was to help the mate, whom he could dimly
see lying across the deck half buried and wedged in amongst ropes,
gratings, and the smashed-up wreck of one of the boats, which had been
torn from the davits by the weight of the water.
He had to crawl to him, and then dragged away a great tangle of rope and
several pieces of broken woodwork before the mate moved. Then he began
to struggle, dragged himself out by the help of Oliver Lane's hands, and
crawled back with him to the side, where he crouched down under the
bulwark.
"Nice lark this, sir," he groaned.
"Much hurt?" shouted Oliver Lane.
"Tidy," came back. "Don't know yet, sir. Hah! Don't think I could
stand much more of it, nor the old _Planet_, neither."
These words were uttered during a temporary lull. Then the wind came
along with a fiercer rush than ever, bearing with it a perfect deluge of
spray in great stinging, blinding drops torn from the surface of the
waves, and forcing all on board to shelter their faces from its
violence.
There was no more possibility of making one another heard for the
furious blast. Every nerve and muscle had to be devoted to the task of
holding on, and in this way hour after hour of that awful night slowly
passed away till one and all of the crew strained their eyes, though
vainly, for the coming of the day.
"At last!" shouted the mate.
Oliver Lane looked up in his direction, so thoroughly exhausted and weak
that he could not comprehend the meaning of his companion's words. Then
by slow degrees he began to realise that the wind was falling fast,
though the vessel was labouring as much as ever.
Then he managed to grasp the fact that it was some time since the deck
had been flooded by a wave, and with a faint gleam of hope crossing the
darkness which had enshrouded them, he said with an effort--
"Lulling a little?"
"Lulling?" cried the mate. "You couldn't have talked to me like that a
couple of hours ago."
"Then we have escaped?"
"I don't know yet. All that I know is that we are getting through the
storm, and the sooner it is daylight the better I shall be pleased."
Some hours passed. The wind had died out and the sea was rapidly going
down, but a strange feeling of uneasiness had come upon the occupants of
the little vessel. Visit after visit had been paid to the cabins, and
the watches which had been consulted and doubted were now acknowledged
to be trusty and truth-telling, for the chronometers supported their
evidence and announced that it was well on toward noon of the next day.
Though to all appearance it was midnight of the blackest, dense clouds
shutting out the sky, while the long-continued darkness had a singularly
depressing effect upon men worn out by their struggle with the storm.
Arthur Panton, the mineralogist of the little expedition, had pretty
well recovered from the battering he had received, and he at once gave
his opinion as to the cause of the darkness.
"I cannot speak learnedly upon the subject," he said, "but these
terrible storms, as Mr Rimmer says, do appear to be somehow connected
with electric disturbances, and often enough these latter seem to be
related to volcanic eruptions."
"And you think there is a volcanic eruption somewhere near?" asked Lane.
"I do not say somewhere near, for the wind may have brought this dense
blackness from hundreds of miles distant but certainly I should say that
one of the many volcanoes in this region is in eruption."
"If it were, sir, we should be having fine ashes coming down upon us,"
said the mate, gruffly, "and--"
"What's that?" cried Panton, holding up his hand.
"Thunder," said the mate, as a deep, apparently distant concussion was
heard.
"No, the explosion from some crater," said Panton. "Hark!"
Another deep muttering report was heard, and soon after another and
another.
"Only a bad thunderstorm," cried the mate. "There, let's go and get
some food, gentlemen, and see how our friends are. I daresay we shall
be having a deluge of rain before long, and then the sun will come out
and I can take an observation."
He led the way to the cabin, where the steward had prepared a meal and
retrimmed the lamps, going about with a scared look on his countenance,
and turning his eyes appealingly from one to the other as the
thunderlike reports kept on; but, getting no sympathy from those to whom
he appealed silently, for they were as nervous as himself, he sought his
opportunity and, following Oliver Lane into a corner, he began,--
"Oh, sir, the destruction's awful."
"But the ship is sound yet, and making no water."
"I mean my china and glass, sir," said the man, "I shan't have a whole
thing left."
"Never mind that if our lives are saved."
"No, sir, I don't; but will they be saved?"
"Oh, yes, I hope so."
"But it's so dark, sir. Oh, why did I leave London with its safety and
its gas? Why am I here, sir? I want to know why I am here?"
"Because you were not a coward," said Lane.
"Eh? You're not joking me, sir."
"No, I am serious."
"Then thank you, sir. You're quite right. That's it, I'm not a coward,
and I won't say another word."
The man nodded and smiled and went about his work, while Lane turned to
a young man of seven or eight and twenty, who sat evidently suffering
and looking pale and strange in the sickly light.
"I say, Lane," he said, "is this the end of the world?"
"Not to-day, Mr Drew," cried the mate: "Is no end to the world, it's
round."
"To-day! It's noon, and as black as night."
"Mr Rimmer thinks we are going to have a tremendous rain storm now,"
said Oliver Lane, wincing with pain as he sat down.
"Then it is going to be a rain of black ink."
"Oh, no, sir, heavy thunderstorm and then the light will come. The
clouds look almost solid."
"But surely that cannot be thunder," cried Oliver Lane, excitedly.
"Hark!"
"No need to, sir," said the mate, smiling. "It makes itself heard
plainly enough. By George!"
He sprang from the table and hurried out on deck, for a roar like that
of some terrific explosion close at hand was heard, and Lane and Panton
followed, expecting to see the lurid light of a fire or the flash of
lightning forerunning the next roar.
But all was blacker than ever, and the sailing lights and a ship's
lantern or two swung to and fro as the vessel rose and fell on the
unquiet sea.
"What do you make of it, Smith?" cried the mate to one of the watch.
"Can't make nothing on it at all, sir," said the man, taking off his cap
and scratching his head, while his face, like those of his companions'
had a peculiar scared aspect. "'Tar'nt like a thunderstorm, cause there
ar'n't a drop o' lightning."
"_Bit_, matey," said one of the man's comrades.
"Get out," growled the first man, "how can it be a bit, Billy Wriggs,
when yer can't touch it? I said a drop and I mean it."
"Don't argue," said the mate, sharply. "Do you mean to say, all of you,
that you saw no flash?"
"Not a sign o' none, sir," said the first man. "There?"
Another fearful detonation came with startling violence to their ears,
and as they stood upon the deck the report seemed to jar them all in a
dull, heavy way.
"Warn't no flash o' lightning there, sir."
"No, I saw no flash," said Oliver Lane, uneasily.
"No, there aren't been none, sir. Lightning allus flickers and blinks
like, 'fore you hear any thunder at all."
"These dense black clouds might hide the flashes," said Lane.
"No," said Panton. "I should say that a flash of lightning would pass
through any cloud. I don't think it's thunder."
"What, then, a naval action going on?"
"No war," said the mate, "it must be thunder."
Another detonation, louder than any they had heard before, made the ship
literally quiver, and the men pressed together and turned their startled
faces towards the mate as if for help and protection.
"World's coming to a hend," muttered one of the men.
"If I was skipper here," said another, "I'd just 'bout ship and run for
it."
"Where to?" said Wriggs.
"Can't run your ship out o' the world, matey," grumbled the first sailor
who had spoken, while the mate and the cabin passengers stood gazing in
the direction from which the detonations seemed to come, and tried to
pierce the dense blackness ahead. "Sims to me as there's something
wrong in the works somewhere. I never see anything like this afore."
"Nor you can't see nothing like it behind, matey," said Wriggs. "It's
like playing at Blind Man's Buff shut up in a water tank."
Another awful roar, ten times as deafening as that of the loudest peal
of thunder, now struck them heavily--short, quick--sudden, but there was
no echoing reverberation or rolling sound as with thunder, and now
convinced that it could not be the effects of a thunderstorm, the mate
turned to his companion, and said,--
"It's a big volcano hard at it somewhere, gentlemen, and these are not
rain clouds shutting us in, but smoke."
"But what volcano can it be?" said Lane, as a peculiar nervous tremor
attacked him.
"You tell me whereabouts we are, and I'll tell you what burning mountain
that is. If you can't tell me, I can't tell you. Wait till the clouds
open, and I'll get an observation. First thing, though, is to make sail
and get away."
He knew the folly of his remark as he spoke, for the wind had completely
dropped now, and it was noted as strange that no rush of air came after
each explosion. There was the heavy concussion and then a terrible
stillness, the air being perfectly motionless, and this appearing the
more strange after the frightful tornado through which they had passed.
Silence absolute, and a darkness as thick as that of the great plague of
Egypt--a darkness that could be felt. And now, making no headway
whatever, the vessel rolled heavily in the tossing waves, which boiled
round them as it were, as if there were some violent disturbance going
on far beneath the keel.
"I never see nought like this," whispered the first sailor Smith, as if
he were afraid of his words being heard. "Ship's going it like a
dumpling in a pot."
"And I never felt anything like it, gentlemen," said the mate in a low
awe-stricken tone. "But we mustn't show any white feathers, eh, Mr
Lane? Ah, Mr Drew, come to give us your opinion?"
This to the gentleman they had left in the cabin.
"I have come to bring terrible news, Mr Rimmer," said the fresh-comer,
gravely. "A few minutes after you had left the cabin, Captain White
rose suddenly upon his elbow. `Fetch Mr Rimmer,' he said; `no: don't
leave me. He can do no good. It's all getting dark. Tell Mr Rimmer
to do his best but I know he will. Stay with me to the last, Mr Drew.'
I should have run and called for help, but it was all too plain, Mr
Rimmer. He was dying, and directly after he sank back on his pillow,
gave me one sad look as if to say good-bye, and all was over."
The terrible silence seemed to be more profound at this announcement,
which came like a chill upon the little group already sufficiently
unnerved.