"Three inches less. We're gaining on the leaks!" he exclaimed.
I sprang to my feet and seized the brake. Jim struck out with his arms
"to take the turns out of the muscles," as he said, while he sat for a
minute on the deck, and again went at it.
All this time the wind was falling and the sea going down. As we
laboured at the pumps we looked out anxiously for the appearance of a
vessel which might afford us assistance, but not a sail appeared above
the horizon. We must depend on our own exertions for preserving our
lives. Though a calm would enable us the better to free the brig of
water and to get up jury-masts, it would lessen our chance of obtaining
help. Yet while the brig was rolling and tumbling about we could do
nothing but pump, and pump we did till our strength failed us, and we
both sank down on the deck.
My eyes closed, and I felt that I was dropping off to sleep. How long I
thus lay I could not tell, when I heard Jim sing out--
"Hurrah! We've gained six inches on the leak," and clank, clank, clank,
went his pump.
I cannot say that I sprang up, but I got, somehow or other, on my feet,
and, seizing the brake, laboured away more like a person in his sleep
than one awake.
I saw the water flowing freely, so I knew that I was not pumping
uselessly. Presently I heard Jim cry out--
"Hillo! Look there!"
Turning my eyes aft, I saw the captain holding on by the
companion-hatch, and gazing in utter astonishment along the deck. His
head bound up in a white cloth, a blanket over his shoulders, his face
pale as death, he looked more like a ghost than a living man.
"Where are they, lads?" he exclaimed at length, in a hollow voice.
"All gone overboard, sir," answered Jim, thinking he ought to speak.
The old man, on hearing this, fell flat on the deck.
We ran and lifted him up. At first I thought he was dead, but he soon
opened his eyes and whispered--
"It was a passing weakness, and I'll be better soon. Trust in God,
laddies; go on pumping, and He'll save your lives," he said.
"We'll take you below first, sir. You'll be better in your berth than
here," I answered.
"No, no! I'll stay on deck; the fresh air will do me good," he said;
but scarcely had he uttered the words than he fell back senseless.
"We must get him below, or he'll die here," I said; so Jim and I carried
him down as before, and got him into his bed.
"He wants looking after," said Jim; "so, Peter, do you tend him, and
I'll go back to the pumps."
Thinking that he wanted food more than anything else, I lighted the
cabin fire, and collecting some materials from the pantry for broth in a
saucepan, put it on to boil.
Though I had been actively engaged, I felt able once more to work the
pumps. Jim said that he was certain the water in the hold was
decreasing, while, as the brig was steadier, less was coming in. This
increased our hopes of keeping her afloat, but we should want rest and
sleep, and when we knocked off the water might once more gain on us.
We did not forget, however, what the captain had said. When I could
pump no longer I ran below, freshly dressed the old man's head, and gave
him some broth, which was by this time ready. It evidently did him
good. Then, taking a basin of it myself, I ran up on deck with another
for Jim.
"That puts life into one," he said, as, seated on the deck with his legs
stretched out, he swallowed it nearly scalding hot. A draught of water
which he told me to bring, however, cooled his throat, and he again set
to, I following his example.
By this time the day was far advanced, and even Jim confessed that he
must soon give in, while I could scarcely stand.
The wind had continued to go down, but the sea still rolled the vessel
about too much to enable us to get up jury-masts, even if we had had
strength to move, before dark.
"It's no use trying to hold out longer, I must get a snooze," sighed
Jim.
He looked as if he were half asleep already.
"We had better go and lie down in the cabin, so that we may be ready to
help the captain," I answered; "but I'll tell you what, we'll take a
look into the fore-peak first, to see how the leaks are going on there."
"Oh, they are all right," said Jim. "We shouldn't have lessened the
water so much if anything had given way."
Still I persisted in going forward, and Jim followed me. Just then the
vessel gave a pitch, which nearly sent me head first down the
fore-hatchway. As we got below I heard the sound of a rush of water.
The handspike which secured the chief leak had worked out of its place,
and the blankets and boards were forced inwards. It required all our
remaining strength to put them back. Had we been asleep aft the brig
would have filled in a few minutes. Jim wanted to remain forward, but I
persuaded him to come aft, being sure that he would sleep too soundly to
hear the water coming in should the leaks break out afresh, and might be
drowned before he awoke. Having done all we could to secure the
handspikes, we crawled rather than walked to the cabin.
We were thankful to find that the captain was asleep, so, without loss
of time, Jim crept into one of the side berths, and I lay down on the
after locker. In half a minute I had forgotten what had happened and
where I was. As the old captain and we two lads lay fast asleep on
board the demasted brig out there in the wild North Sea, a kind
Providence watched over us. We might have been run down, or, the leaks
breaking out afresh, the vessel might have foundered before we awoke.
A voice which I supposed to be that of the captain aroused me. The sun
was shining down through the cabin sky-light. The vessel was floating
motionless. Not a sound did I hear except Jim's snoring. I tried to
jump up, but found my limbs terribly stiff, every joint aching. I made
my way, however, to the old man's berth.
"How are you, Captain Finlay?" I asked.
He did not reply. I stepped nearer. His eyes were closed. I thought
he was dead; yet I heard his voice, I was certain of that. I stood
looking at him, afraid to ascertain if what I feared was the case. A
feeling of awe crept over me. I did not like to call out to Jim, yet I
wanted him to come to me. At last I staggered over to the berth in
which Jim was sleeping. "Jim! Jim!" I said, "I am afraid the captain
is taken very bad."
Jim did not awake, so I shook him several times till he sat up, still
half asleep and rubbing his eyes.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Oh--ay, I know. We'll turn to at the
pumps, Peter."
I repeated what I had said. He was on his feet in a moment. He moved
at first with as much difficulty as I had done. "Come along," I said,
and together we went over to the state cabin. We looked at the old man
without speaking. After some time Jim mustered courage to touch his
hand. To my great relief the captain opened his eyes.
"Praise God, who has preserved us during the night, my lads!" were the
first words he spoke, and while we stood by his side he offered up a
short prayer.
He then told us to go on deck and learn the state of the weather.
We hurried up. The sun was shining brightly; the sea was smooth as
glass, unbroken by a single ripple. Jim did not forget the leak; he
sounded the well.
"We must turn to at the pumps, Peter," he exclaimed. "She's made a good
deal of water during the night, and it will take us not a few hours to
get it out of her, but we'll not give in."
"I should think not, indeed," I answered. "But I'll go down and hear
what the captain wants us to do."
Before I had got half way down the companion-ladder I heard the clank of
the pump. Jim had lost no time in setting to work.
I hastened to the state-room. I was startled by the changed appearance
of the captain's countenance during the short time I had been on deck.
His eyes were turned towards me with a fixed look. I spoke, but he did
not answer; I leant over him, no breath proceeded from his lips; I
touched his brow, then I knew that the good old man was dead. Presently
I closed his eyes, and with a sad heart returned on deck.
"He's gone, Jim," I cried.
"Gone! The captain gone! Then I am sorry," answered Jim, as he stopped
pumping for a moment, though he still held the brake in his hands.
"Then, Peter, you and I must just do our best to take the brig into port
by ourselves."
"I was thinking the same, Jim," I said. "He told us to get up
jury-masts and steer west, and that's just what we must do if the wind
will let us."
The death of our good captain made us feel very sad, for we had learned
to look upon him as our true friend. It caused us also to become more
anxious even than before about ourselves. With his assistance we had
had little doubt, should the weather remain fine, of reaching a port,
but as we were neither of us accustomed to the use of charts, and did
not know how to take an observation, we could not tell to what port we
should steer our course.
We had both, however, dauntless spirits, and had been accustomed from
our childhood to trust to our own resources. Our grand idea was to
steer west, if we could manage to get sail on the brig, but before this
could be attempted we must pump her free of water.
There was no time to mourn for our old captain, so without delay we
turned to at the pumps. My arms and legs and every part of my body felt
very stiff. Jim saw that I should not be able to continue long at it.
"Peter, do you go below and look out for some spars to serve as
jury-masts," he said; "I'll meantime keep on. We shall soon get the
water under; it's only a wonder more hasn't come in."
Jim and I never thought who was captain; if I told him to do a thing he
did it, or if he gave an order I did not stop to consider whether or not
he had the right to command. We worked together as if we had but one
will.