_The Waters rise.--The Boys try Force.--Attach on Pat.--He is
overpowered.--My Name’s Wade.--An Irish Howl.--Solomon
immovable.--The Ancient Mariner at his Post.--The Boys fly.--Flight
of Solomon.--“Drefful Times.”--Captain Corbet sings his Death Song.--A
Rhapsody on the Antelope.--The rising Waters.--The doomed Schooner.--The
rolling Seas.--The Antelope sinking.--The Form of Corbet slowly
disappearing beneath the raging Seas._
THE waters continued to rise in the hold of the Antelope, and inch by
inch the doomed schooner settled slowly down into the depths beneath. On
the deck stood those four who still held aloof from the boat, and seemed
to be animated by some insane or unintelligible motive. By the side of
the schooner floated the boat, in which were Bruce, Arthur, Tom, Phil,
and Bart. They were all standing up, and holding the Antelope’s rail,
and shouting, bawling, yelling, entreating, threatening, and using every
possible means to save their unfortunate companions.
Suddenly Bart drew his knife.
“Boys!” said he, “we’ll have to drag them off. Bruce and Arthur, come
along. Tom and Phil, you mind the boat.”
With these words he jumped on board the Antelope, with his open knife in
his hand. Bruce and Arthur leaped on board after him.
The sight of Bart, with his open knife, thus bounding on board the
Antelope, astonished the other boys, who began to think that Bart, like
the others, had also lost his senses; but they did as he said--Tom and
Phil holding the boat to the side of the Antelope, and watching, while
Bruce and Arthur followed Bart.
Bart first rushed to Pat.
“We’re not going to stand this. You’re ruining us all. If you don’t go
aboard the boat, we’ll throw you overboard, and you’ll be glad to do it
then. Bruce and Arthur, catch hold, and pitch Pat overboard if he don’t
go to the boat.”
Speaking these words with breathless rapidity, Bart cut the rope with
which Pat had bound himself, giving long slashes up and down. Bruce
and Arthur seized him at the same moment, and as soon as the rope was
severed, dragged him to where the boat was, ordering him on board,
and threatening to throw him into the water if he refused. Pat was
powerless. A few words of remonstrance were offered, but he was sternly
silenced. He was thus overpowered, and so, yielding to necessity, he got
on board the boat. There he seated himself in the stern, and, bowing
his head, began a long, low, wailing Irish “keen,” which is a species of
lamentation in the presence of death.
This scene appeared to produce some effect upon Wade. It roused him
from his lethargy. It seemed as though this man was a mere machine; and
though in ordinary circumstances he was able of going through certain
routine duties, in any extraordinary case he was utterly helpless, and
his dull and inert nature became hopelessly imbecile. But now an idea
of his situation seemed at last to have penetrated to his brain, and
accordingly, rising to his feet, he went to the boat. Then he slowly and
solemnly passed over the Antelope’s side, and took his seat near Pat.
He looked at the others with a dull stare, and then turning to Pat, he
remarked, in a low, confidential tone, “My name’s Wade, an my ole
‘oman’s name’s Gipson; an you’ll not find many o’ that name in this
country. No, sir.”
After which he heaved a sigh, and relapsed into himself. As to Pat,
he took no notice of this confidence imparted to him, but went on with
his Irish lamentation.
“Ow--O-o-o-o-ow--to only think--this bit ov a boat sure--an in the
wide an impty say--an me a bindin meself to the only safety; for
the ship-wracked sayman must always bind himsilf to a mast. And,
O-o-o-b-o-o-o-w, but it was a bitter, crool thing, so it was, to tear
a poor boy from his solitary rifuge--an dhrive him here into a bit ov a
boat--to sail over the impty say--an from the last rifuge--where safety
was, an O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ow! but it’s the croolty ov it that braks me
heart!”
The summary treatment with which the boys had disposed of Pat, was
not to be applied to Solomon, or to Captain Corbet. They tried to coax
these, and persuade them.
Solomon, however, was obdurate.
“My ’vice to you, boys, an you, in tiklar, mas’r Bart,” said he, “is
to clar out ob dis yer sinkin schooner, ef yer don want to git a duckin
ob de wustest sort. She’s a goin down--you’d betta believe--dat’s so.”
“O, come, come, Solomon; we can’t wait. You’re making us all risk our
lives,” said Bart, imploringly, coaxing him as he would coax an insane
man. “Come along; don’t keep us here. The schooner’ll sink and drag the
boat down, if we don’t keep farther away.”
“Darsn’t,” said Solomon. “Couldn’t, darsn’t--no how.”
“O, come.”
“Darsn’t--fraid ob dat ar ole woman, wid de broomstick, de tongs, de
fence-pole, an de red-hot gridiron. Tell you what, it stings--it does,
dreadful--it does so--”
“O, come. She shall never trouble you. Never.”
“Who’s to go skewrity for dat ar statement? Nobody can skewer her. No.
Better be drown-ded, dan walloped to def with hay-forks. Nobody can
skewer dat ar ole woman, dough; gracious sakes, she knows how to skewer
me ebery time she lay hand on a pitchfork or a meat-skewer. Yah, yah,
yah!”
At this ill-timed levity Bart and the others turned away in despair and
disgust.
They hurried aft.
There stood the venerable Corbet. As they drew near he gave a start, and
a smile came over his reverend countenance.
“Wal, boys,” said he, in a tone of kindly welcome, “how d’ye do? Pleased
to see you.”
He spoke precisely as if he was receiving a call from some favorite
guests. The tone pained the boys, and distressed them greatly.
“Captain,” said Bruce, hurriedly, “the Antelope’s sinking. A moment more
and you’ll be lost. Come with us in the boat. Come.”
And, laying his hand on the captain’s arm, he sought to drag him away.
But the captain quietly though firmly, disengaged himself.
“Excuse me, young sir,” said the venerable navigator, very politely;
“but I’m captain of this here craft; an, being sich, I ain’t got no call
to leave her till the last man. You git to your boat, an I’ll retire
when the time comes.”
The captain spoke with dignity. He announced a principle which involves
the highest duty of every commander of a ship, and the boys knew it. His
dignity overawed them.
“But come now, captain,” said Bart, “there isn’t a moment to lose.”
“I ain’t, a goin ever to hev it written on my tume,” said the captain,
in a calm voice, “that me--Captain Corbet--ever desarted his post, or
forgot his umble dooty as commander of a vessel. No, the Antelope’ll see
that, her captain’s jist as much principle an honor as any of them
swell navigators that sail in clipper ships over the boosom of the briny
deep.”
At this moment there was a long-drawn, bubbling, gurgling sound,
that came up from the hold of the Antelope, and startled the boys
exceedingly.
“Come, come, captain,” cried Bruce. “She’s sinking now. There isn’t a
moment to spare.”
“Wal, boys, you jist hurry off into that thar boat, an don’t mind me. I
know my dooty. You can’t expect me to leave this here deck till the last
man. It don’t signify argufyin. Hurry off.”
At this moment there was another sound; something between a gasp and a
gurgle. It seemed like the death-rattle of the Antelope.
“She’s going down, boys!” cried Bart. Involuntarily they retreated
towards the boat. But here they paused yet again, for there was a brief
respite, and the Antelope was yet afloat.
“Won’t you come, captain?” cried Bart.
“O, all right,” said Captain Corbet, waving his hand; “all right. You
jest get aboard the boat. Don’t you mind me. Remember, I’m the captain,
an I’ve got to be the last man.”
This seemed to the boys like a promise to follow them.
“Come along, boys,” said Bart. “He’ll get into the boat if we do. He
wants to be last.”
Saying this, the three boys clambered over the Antelope’s side, and it
was with a feeling of relief that they found themselves once more in the
boat.
“Now, captain,” cried Bruce, “hurry up. Come, Solomon. Captain, make
Solomon come on board, and then you’ll be the last man.”
Captain Corbet smiled, and made no reply. As for Solomon, he merely
muttered something about “dat ar ole woman” and “gridiron.”
The Antelope was low in the water. The deck was near the level of the
sea. Instinctively, Tom, who was holding the rail, pushed away, and the
boat moved off a little distance. Yet they could not leave those two
infatuated men to their fate, though the instinct of self-preservation
made them thus move away slightly.
“Captain! Solomon! Captain! Solomon! Make haste! O, make haste!” Such
were the cries that now came from those in the boat.