The first night we spent aboard the hulk was far from convincing us of
her seaworthiness. I had been in--a sailor is never "on board"--two ships
that had seen fit to leave me above them, but their last throes were no
more trying to the nerves than the ugly rooting of the _Sovereign_ into
the swell during that night. At each roll she appeared to be on the way
to turn her keel toward the sky, and, at a plunge slowly down a
sea-slope, she made us hold our breaths. Down, down, and under she would
gouge, the water roaring and seething over sunken decks amidships, and
even pouring over the topgallant rail until it would seem certain she was
making her way to the bottom, and I would instinctively start to rise
from the cabin transom to make a break for the deck. Then she would
finally stop and take a slow heave to windward, which started a Niagara
thundering below the deck, where the cargo was torn loose and sent
crashing about in a whirlpool.
I once read a description by an English landsman of a shipwreck, and he
told how the water would rest for an instant level with the rail, seeming
to pause motionless for a fraction of a second before flowing over and
sinking the ship, I lay a long time wondering vaguely at an imagination
that could make such a description possible, and as a heaving swell would
start along the rail at the waist, and go thundering along in a roaring
surf the entire length of the midship section over the edge, fetching up
with a crash against the forward cabin bulkhead, I heartily wished the
writer were aboard to share our sufferings. There was no spoon and teacup
business about that ship, and it sometimes seemed as though seven or
eight seas were rolling over her rails from all directions at once.
We were still below the thirty-eighth parallel, and consequently the
morning broke early, for it was January and midsummer. I arose from the
transom and went on deck at dawn, and found that the fog had lifted.
Andrews met me as I came from below, and gave me a nod as I took in the
horizon line at a glance.
"I reckon old hook-nose didn't care to wait any longer," he
growled sourly.
I took up the glass from the wheel box, and scanned the line carefully.
There was not a thing in sight save the smooth swell, ruffled now by
the slight breeze, and turning a deep blue-gray in the light of the
early morning. The sun rose from a cloudless horizon and shone warmly
upon the wreck. The foam glistened and sparkled in the rosy sunlight,
and looking over the rail I could see deep down into the clear depths.
The copper on the ship's bilge looked a light gray, and even the tacks
were visible. She drifted slowly along with just steering way, and the
spar alongside, which the men had tried to get aboard again, made a
gurgling wake with its heel.
"What do you make of it, Chips?" I asked, as the carpenter waded out in
the waist and came up the poop ladder.
"Long cruise an' plenty o' water, that's about th' size av ut, don't ye
think, sir?" the carpenter answered. "Trunnell has been took off, fer
sure. I don't mind stickin' aboard th' bleedin' hooker if there was a
chanst to get th' salvage; but no fear o' that while Andrews is here.
He'll block any argument to divvy up. Seems as we might even get down
under her bilge durin' this spell av weather, an' see where th' leak is
located. 'Tis a butt started, most like. Them English stevedores
generally rams th' stuffin' out av a ship in spite av th' marks they
puts on 'em."
Captain Sackett came from below and joined us.
"I'd like to get that foremast aboard while it holds calm," said he; "and
if you'll start the men, we'll have it done by noon. The sooner we all
work together, the better. We ought to get sail on forward in less than a
week, and then, with a jury topmast, make enough way to get in while the
grub holds out."
The steward got breakfast in the after-cabin, and as soon as the men had
eaten they were turned to rigging tackles to hoist the dragging foremast
aboard. It was trailing by the lee rigging, which had held, and it had
thumped and pounded along the ship's side to such an extent during the
blow that several of her strakes were nearly punched through. It was a
beautiful morning,--the blue sky overhead and the calm, blue ocean all
around us. The men worked well, and even the sour ruffian, Andrews, who
stood near and took charge of part of the work,--for he was an expert
sailor,--seemed to brighten under the sun's influence. Chips went to work
at the stump of the foremast, and cut well into it at a point almost
level with the deck. This he fashioned into a scarf-joint for a
corresponding cut in the piece of mast which had gone overboard. Tackles
were rigged from the main-topmast head, and, by a careful bracing with
guys forward and at both sides, the wreck of the foremast was slowly
raised aboard.
The _Sovereign_ forged ahead faster when relieved of this load. On the
second day, when we had the foremast fished, and the yards, which had
held to it, safe on deck, ready to be hoisted and slung again, we found
that the vessel had made over seventy miles to the westward along the
thirty-eighth parallel. This was over a mile an hour; but of course some
of this drift was due to the edge of the Agullas current, which was
setting somewhat to the southward and westward.
Andrews had little to say to me or to Chips. In fact, he appeared to be
satisfied with his lot now that he seemed sure of getting salvage money.
Only Jim, who seemed to have eyes everywhere, distrusted the man, and
spoke to me about him. We had now been on the wreck five days, working
and rigging away at the foremast, and the calm, beautiful weather held
with no signs of a change. Jim was hanging over the side, resting his
feet on the fore channels while he helped Chips to bolt in a deadeye
which had been torn out when the mast had gone. The sun was warm and
shone brilliantly, and Chips sweated and grunted as he pounded away at
the iron. There were no other men in our immediate vicinity, so after
pounding away in silence for a quarter of an hour, the carpenter spoke.
"'Tis bloody well we've been treated to get no share av the wreck, whin
here we are sweatin' our brains out wid th' work av refittin'," said he.
"And what the devil is a few hundred pounds of salvage to me?" growled
Jim, hot with his exertion. "See here, man! I've left ten thousand behind
me on the _Pirate_."
"And a pious regard fer the truth along wid it," added Chips, smiting the
lug-bolt heavily.
Jim's face was so serious that I asked what he meant, and with the heat
of the work upon him and the absolute hopelessness of ever getting back
aboard our ship before his eyes, he spoke out:--
"Did you ever hear of Jackwell, the fellow who cracked the Bank of
Sydney?" he asked.
Chips and I both admitted that we had. He was the most notorious burglar
in the southern hemisphere.
"But what are ye askin' sich a question fer?" asked Chips. "What's
burglars got to do wid losin' salvage?"
"He was aboard the _Pirate_, and a reward awaits the lucky dog who lands
him. Just a trifle of ten thousand dollars," said Jim, fiercely.
Chips turned on him.
"Is it sure 'nuff truth ye're tellin', or jest a yarn to soothe our
feelin's?" he demanded. "I don't call to mind any gallus-lookin' chap in
th' watch."
"He never stood watch, and I wasn't certain of him until we were out to
sea and it was too late. What d'ye suppose I tried to get Trunnell to go
back for? 'Twas the old man, you stupid wood-splitter. You don't think
I'm a sailor, do you?"
"'Pon me sowl, how cud I? I niver had th' heart to hurt yer feelings,
Jim, me son, or ye'd have heard from me before. But what are ye, thin?"
And Chips leaned back against the rail.
"Nothing but a--" and Jim opened his coat which he had always worn since
coming aboard the _Pirate_. On the inside was a silver shield stamped
handsomely with the insignia of the detective corps of Melbourne.
"A sea lawyer aboard a derelict. Ye do fairly well, considerin'. An' th'
old man? You don't really mean it?"
"What?" I asked; "do you mean that Thompson's a burglar; and that he's
Jackwell himself?"
"Nothing else, and I'm out for the reward, which I won't get now. You
know now how he came aboard. If I'd only been a few hours sooner, it
would have been all right. He was about to buy his passage when he found
the real Captain Thompson wasn't there, and would probably not be down
until the last minute. That was enough for him. Trunnell was taken clear
aback by his nerve. It was a risky thing to do, but Jackwell takes risks.
The man has more real cheek and impudence than any above ground, or water
either, for that matter. He ain't much afraid of a fight when it comes to
it, although he'd rather use his wits than his gun. That's just what
makes me feel sore. But that isn't all. Andrews is going to get clear of
some of us."
"He's tried it several times on me," I said, with a smile. "What makes
you think he'll try again?"
"I heard enough of what was passing between that third mate and steward
last night to know it. But I don't want to scare you fellows," he added,
with a smile.
Chips gave a grunt of disgust, and I spat contemptuously over the side
without further remark. Our manner was not lost on Jim. He sobered
instantly.
"You know we're in the way aboard, if we land the hooker all right," he
said slowly. "That's clear as mud. You know also that Trunnell and the
rest aboard the _Pirate_ know we don't belong here and haven't any right
to stay except as passengers. Trunnell saw us put off in the boat. He
could see us plainly when we started and was, of course, looking at us
all the time until the fog closed in. You follow this lay, don't you?"
Chips and I nodded.
"Well, if the _Sovereign_ turns up with our boat load missing and Sackett
dead, she'll be in good evidence of what all hands aboard the _Pirate_
saw, won't she?"
It dawned suddenly upon us that this was a fact. Trunnell and Thompson,
and in fact all hands, were looking after us, waiting for us to come back
aboard before swinging the yards and standing away again on our course.
There wasn't a man aboard the _Pirate_, we felt certain, who had not seen
the boat start away from the ship with our men and Miss Sackett aboard
her, for they had nothing in the world to do but watch. Then they had
seen the fog envelop us on our way. We had not turned up, and the only
thing to infer, if the _Sovereign_ came in without us, was that we had
missed our way and had gone adrift in the southern ocean. The word of
Andrews and the rest aboard the English ship could hardly be doubted
under the circumstances. If we cut adrift in the small boat or were done
away with as Jim suggested, our friends would be witnesses who would help
our enemies by any testimony they might give.
Chips dropped his hammer and drew a hand across his forehead, thinking.
"What did the third mate say in regard to our going?" I asked Jim.
"I couldn't hear the talk, only part of a sentence whispered by that
man-woman when the steward came into the cabin during the mid-watch last
night with a can of salmon and some ship's bread. They stood near the
door of the alleyway, talking, and I suddenly came bulging into them with
rubber boots on. He said something about Andrews being a fine captain and
perfectly capable of taking this ship in or out any port on the African
coast. That's all."
I stopped serving the end of the lanyard I was at work on and looked
across the deck to where Andrews stood with several men. His sinister
face with its sour smile was turned toward us as though he studied
our thoughts.
"You're not over busy, Mr. Rolling," said Sackett, coming along the rail
to the rigging. "I wish you and the carpenter would try to get a gantline
over the side and look along under her for the butt. In this clear water
the chances are good for getting a sight of it if it's well up on her
bilge. We ought to stop her up some while the calm lasts."