The calm which I described at the commencement of my narrative had
continued for many hours, and when the sun sank beneath the horizon
there was not the slightest sign of a coming breeze. It was my first
watch, and before Harry went below he charged me to keep a careful
look-out, and to call him should there be any sign of a change of
weather. The schooner still floated motionless on the water; scarcely a
sound was heard, except the cheeping of the main boom, and the low
voices of the men forward, as they passed the watch spinning their
oft-told yarns to each other.
I slowly paced the deck, enjoying the comparative coolness of the night,
after the intense heat of the day. The stars in the southern hemisphere
were shining brilliantly overhead, reflected in the mirror-like ocean.
The watch at length were silent, and had apparently dropped off to
sleep, though I could see the figure of the man on the look-out as he
paced up and down or leaned over the bulwarks. Suddenly, the stillness
was broken by a dull splash. I started; it seemed to me as if some one
had fallen overboard, but it was only one of the monsters of the deep
poking its snout for an instant above the surface, and when I looked
over the side it had disappeared. Occasionally I heard similar sounds
at various distances. I had some difficulty in keeping myself awake,
though by continuing my walk I was able to do so; but I was not sorry
when the old mate turned out, without being called, to relieve me.
"We have not got a breeze yet," I observed as he came on deck.
"No, Master Ned, and we shan't get one during my watch either; and maybe
not when the sun is up again," he answered.
Tom was right. When I came on deck the next morning the sea was as calm
as before. Though it appeared impossible that we could have moved our
position, I was greatly surprised, on looking away to the westward, to
see what I at first took to be the masts of a vessel rising above the
horizon. I pointed them out to my brother who had just come on deck.
He told me to go aloft with a telescope and examine them more minutely.
I then discovered that they were trees growing on a small island,
apparently cocoanuts, or palms of some sort. Beyond, to the south and
west, were several islands of greater elevation, some blue and
indistinct, but others appeared to be covered with trees like the nearer
one, while between us and them extended from north to south a line of
white surf distinctly marked on the blue ocean. On reporting to Harry
what I had seen, he said that the surf showed the existence of a barrier
reef surrounding the islands. "We may find a passage through it, but
sometimes these reefs extend for miles without an opening through them.
A strong current must be setting from the eastward towards it, or we
should not have been drawn so far during the night, for certainly there
was no appearance of an island in that direction at sundown."
We soon had convincing proof that Harry was right in his conjecture.
There could be no doubt that a current was setting us towards the land,
for the trees gradually rose higher and higher above the water, and at
length we could see them from the deck, while the white line of surf
breaking on the reef became more and more distinct. At the same time a
slowly moving, at first scarcely perceptible swell, which Fanny called
the breathing of the ocean, passed ever and anon under the vessel,
lifting her so gently that the sails remained as motionless as before.
It was difficult indeed to discover that there was any movement in the
mirror-like surface of the deep, and yet we could feel the deck rise and
fall under our feet. The awning was rigged, and Mary and Fanny were
seated in their easy-chairs under it, Mary reading aloud while her
sister worked. Nat, who had placed himself near them, cross-legged on a
grating, to listen, with a marline-spike and a piece of rope, was
practising the art of splicing, in which he had made fair progress. "I
say, Ned, I wish you would show me how to work a Turk's head," he
exclaimed.
I went to him and did as he asked me. This made Mary stop reading; and
Fanny, looking out towards the island, remarked, "How near we are
getting. I am so glad, for I want to see a real coral island, and that
of course is one. I suppose we shall anchor when we get close to it,
and be able to go on shore." Harry, who overheard her, made no reply,
but looked unusually grave, and told me to bring the chart from below.
Spreading it out on the companion-hatch, we again, for the third or
fourth time, gave a careful look at it.
"I cannot understand the set of this current," he said. "It probably
sweeps round the island. But we are being carried much closer than I
like to be in so perfect a calm. If we get a breeze it will be all
right, but--"
Just then the sails gave several loud flaps, as if some one had shaken
them out, and the schooner rolled now to one side, now to the other.
Her head had moved so as to bring the swell abeam. Once having begun,
she went on making the same unpleasant movements. It was evident that
the swell had increased.
"Is there no way to stop her from doing that?" asked Mary.
"Not till the wind fills her sails," answered Harry. "I hope, however,
that we shall get a breeze before long."
Harry did not say this in a very cheerful tone. He soon afterwards
beckoned Tom Platt to him, and I saw them talking earnestly together for
some minutes. I joined them. They were discussing the probable set of
the current, which was at present sweeping us at the rate of at least
three knots an hour towards the reef.
"We might keep her off it, at all events, until a breeze springs up,"
remarked Tom.
"We'll have the boats out, then, and do our best," said my brother, and
he gave the order "Out boats."
We carried two boats on the davits, but as they were too light to be of
much service, we hoisted out the long-boat, which was stowed amidships.
We also lowered one of the gigs. The two boats were at once made fast
to the tow-line. The men gave way, and the schooner's head was kept off
from the threatening reef, against which the sea was breaking with
tremendous force. The men bent to their oars, for they knew the danger
as well as we did.
We all watched the reef with anxious eyes. Should the vessel be driven
against it, we should, in a few seconds, we well knew, be dashed to
pieces; and, though we might escape in the boats before that catastrophe
occurred, we should be left to make a long voyage before we could reach
any civilised people. All around us were islands, most of them, we had
reason to fear, inhabited by treacherous and blood-thirsty savages.
We, of course, did not express our anxiety to the ladies, who, however,
I thought, began to suspect that the vessel was in danger, although they
said nothing. The men had been pulling fully an hour against the
current, and yet, as I looked at the reef, I could not help
acknowledging to myself that the vessel was nearer than at first. The
swell, at the same time, began to increase, and we could now hear the
roar of the breakers as they dashed against the wall of coral which
interrupted their progress.
"We'll send the other boat ahead, Platt," said my brother.
"Ay, ay, sir," answered Tom; and he and I with the two remaining men
lowered her, and, jumping in, joined our shipmates in towing, leaving
only my brother with Dick and Nat to take charge of the vessel. He now
ordered us to pull across the current, in the hopes of thus in time
getting out of it. We all pulled away with a will, making the schooner
move faster through the water than she had done for many hours.
"We must manage it somehow," shouted Tom to the other boats. "Give way,
lads--give way. We shall soon be clear of the current."
It was of little use urging the men, as they were already straining
every nerve. My brother walked the deck, stopping every now and then,
casting his eyes frequently around the horizon in the hopes of
discovering signs of a coming breeze. Then he would look towards the
reef, but there was nothing encouraging to be seen in that direction.
Still Tom shouted every now and then, "Pull away, lads--pull away!"
"We are pulling, mate, as hard as we can," answered the men from the
other boats.
If we had any doubts of it before it was now clear enough that an
unusually strong current was setting us towards the reef, even faster
than we could pull away from it. Whenever the men showed any signs of
relaxing their efforts Harry came to the bows and cheered them on,
leaving Dick to steer. It was somewhat trying work for all of us, for
the hot sun was beating down on our heads, the perspiration streaming
from every pore; but our lives depended upon our exertions, and pull we
must to the last moment. I heard some of the men talking of going
alongside the schooner and asking the captain for a glass of grog
apiece.
"Don't be thinking of that, lads," cried Tom. "It would be so much
precious time lost. We can pull well enough if we have the will. The
grog would not give you any real strength, and you'd be as thirsty as
before a few minutes afterwards. Can't one of you strike up a tune, and
see if that don't help us along."
There was no response to this appeal, so Tom himself at once began
shouting a no very melodious ditty. First one man joined in, then
another and another, until the whole of the boats' crews were singing at
the top of their voices. It appeared to me that the vessel was moving
somewhat faster than before through the water, but looking towards the
wall of foam that seemed no further off. Still we knew that our efforts
were of use, as we thus considerably delayed the destruction which
awaited our vessel should she once get within the power of the breakers.
Hour after hour passed by. The swell had increased, and, combined with
the current, made our task still more difficult, but Harry had too much
at stake to let any consideration for our fatigue induce him to allow us
to rest for a moment. "Pull on, lads, pull on," he shouted. "We shall
have the breeze before long, and we'll not let the schooner be cast
away."
The roar of the breakers sounded in our ears between each dip of the
oars. I looked round, but no sign of a breeze could I discover. My
heart sank within me as I thought of how Harry must be _feeling_ with
the dear ones under his charge in so great a peril. As I again looked
towards the reef it seemed that, since we could not tow the vessel off,
no power could save her. I knew that the depth of water close up to
these coral reefs is generally so great that there would not be a
possibility of anchoring, nor did I see any opening through which we
could pass and get into smooth water.
At last Harry shouted out, "Mr Platt, in the second gig, come alongside
and help trim sails." We at once obeyed him.
"What do you think we shall get out of that, Platt," he asked, pointing
to a small cloud which was seen rising above the horizon.
"A stiffish breeze, to my mind, and I hope we shall get it before long,"
answered Tom.
We at once trimmed sails, and while we were so employed I saw several
cats'-paws playing over the surface. The sails filled.
"Let the boats come alongside, and we'll hoist them in before the breeze
catches us," cried Harry. "We shall do now, without their help, I
hope."
This was speedily done, but scarcely had we secured the larger boat, the
first gig having already been hoisted on board, than the wind filling
our canvas, the vessel heeled over almost to her gunwale. But the
danger was not past, we had still that fearful wall of surf under our
lee. It would be no easy matter to beat off it.
The awning had been quickly unrigged, and the schooner, with as much
canvas as she could bear, was tearing through the fast rising seas. We
stood on, still nearing the reef. Old Tom went to the helm. The wind
increasing, the vessel heeled over before it, but it would not do to
shorten sail. The men were at their stations.
"We'll go about, Platt, and see if she'll do better on the other tack,"
said Harry. "Helm's a lee!" About she came, but scarcely had she
gathered way when a more furious blast than before laid her over. I
looked aloft--the top masts were bending like willow wands. I feared
every instant that they would go, but it was not a moment to shorten
sail. Presently the wind headed us, and we had once more to go about.
We now stood on almost parallel with the reef, Tom watching for every
slight variation of the wind to edge the schooner off it. All this
time, though the current no longer carried us towards the reef, the
heavy swell rolling in threatened to set us on it. Night was
approaching. It would add greatly to the danger of our position. The
ladies had hitherto remained on deck, fully aware of our peril, but
showing no signs of fear. Harry, who from the moment the gale sprang up
had stood holding on to the weather backstay, now watching the canvas,
now the fast rising seas, urged them and Nat to go below.
"I will summon you, if necessary," he said, in a calm tone. "But we
will hope for the best. Remain in the cabin, and keep your cloaks and
hats ready to put on."
They went without remonstrance. I helped them down the
companion-ladder.
"Is there much danger, do you think, Ned?" asked Mary. "Harry seems
unusually grave."
"We must, as he says, hope for the best," I answered, though I myself
knew that the danger was imminent. Should a spar go or the gale
increase, there would be but scant time, before the schooner would be
among the breakers, to get into the boats; and even should we escape in
them, would they live in that stormy sea? I saw Mary and Fanny kneel
down at the sofa as I left the cabin, and Mary drawing Nat to her side.
"Their prayers will help us," I thought, as I sprang on deck.
The wind was increasing, the foam-topped seas rolled in quick succession
towards us, the sky to windward looked threatening in the extreme; that
terrible wall of foam loomed higher through the gloom of night. Still,
as long as the schooner's head could be kept turned away from the reef,
we might hope to claw off from it. The chart had shown us that a reef
existed, but its form was indistinctly marked. Hitherto we had found it
running in a direct line, north and south, but it might suddenly trend
to the east, and if so, without a moment's warning, we might be upon it.
Harry, knowing this, had stationed two of the men with the sharpest
sight forward, to look out for breakers ahead, that should they be seen,
we might go about and have a chance of escaping them; but, owing to the
heavy sea rolling in, there was a great risk of the schooner missing
stays, and should she do so, our fate would be sealed: there, would be
no time to get the boats out before she would be among the breakers.
Harry now told me to go forward to assist the other men on the look-out.
"We'll not go about, if we can help it," he said. "The water is deep
close up to the reef, and a miss is as good as a mile."
Not a word was spoken; the crew were at their stations ready to execute
the orders they might receive. The increased roar of the ceaseless
breakers showed me that we were nearer than hitherto, though the vessel
was tearing along through the seas at her fastest speed, taking the
water over the bows in dense showers which often prevented me from
seeing ahead.
"Shall we never get to the end of this terrible reef?" I said to
myself. Just then I saw close on the starboard bow the snowy wall of
surf. "Luff! Luff all you can!" I shouted out, my cry being echoed by
the men. The next moment we appeared to be in the very midst of the
seething waters, which fell foaming down on our deck. I gave up all for
lost, but again the schooner dashed on and we were free. The reef was
yet, however, on our starboard side, but as I peered through the
darkness I observed a gap in the wall of foam. I ran aft to Harry. He
had seen it.
"We must venture through," he said. "Square away the fore-yard. Ease
off the main-sheet; up with the helm."
His orders were obeyed, while he hurried aft to direct Tom how to steer.
The hissing breakers rose on either hand not twenty fathoms from the
vessel; the seas roared up astern; now a huge billow lifted us, and then
down we glided into comparatively smooth water.
"Stand by to shorten sail!" shouted Harry. "Port the helm!"
"Port it is," cried Tom.
The headsails were handed, the schooner was rounded to, the anchor let
go, and she rode in safety inside the reef. Harry, with a light heart,
sprang below to assure his wife and her sister that the danger was past.
We could but dimly make out the low shore on the other side of the
lagoon; but what was the character of the island, or whether or not it
was inhabited, we could not tell. The wind was still blowing with great
force, the breakers dashing with terrific roars against the reef outside
of us, so that at any moment we might be driven from our anchor. We
both of us therefore intended to stay on deck during the remainder of
the night, to be ready should any accident occur. We, however, went
down to supper, for which we were very ready, as we had eaten nothing
since the commencement of the gale. Very pleasant the cabin looked
after the gloomy deck, with Mary and Fanny seated at the table, and the
swinging lamp shedding a bright light around. It was difficult to
believe that not many minutes before there was a fearful prospect of our
vessel being dashed to pieces on the rocks. We could, however, remain
below but a very short time, and had again to hurry on deck.
"I'm afraid she's dragging her anchor, sir," said Tom, who was getting a
lead line ready to ascertain whether this was the case.
The lead was dropped to the bottom, the line ran out slowly, showing
that his surmise was correct. More cable was paid out in the hope of
bringing her up. We looked anxiously astern, fearing that she might
strike on some mass of coral between us and the shore. At length, to
our great relief, the line hung up and down, showing that the anchor was
holding. The night passed slowly on. Seldom have I more anxiously
wished for the return of day.