There were plenty of spars below, and I soon selected some which I
thought would serve for the masts and yards we required. I had to call
Jim to help me get them up on deck.
"There'll be no use for these till we can find some canvas to spread on
them," I observed.
"Nor till we get a breeze to fill the sails," said Jim. "However, we'll
get them set while the calm lasts, and no doubt you'll find as many as
we can carry in the sail-room."
This was right aft, down a small hatchway. While Jim went again to his
pump, I hunted about and hauled out two topgallantsails and royals, a
fore-staysail, a second jib, and a main-trysail. If we could set all
these we should do well, supposing we got a fair breeze. It would be no
easy job, however, I knew, to get up the masts. We had one advantage.
The proper masts had been carried away some six or seven feet from the
deck, so that we might lash the spars to them. Before setting to work I
again went below to hunt for rope. I got more than I expected from
different parts of the vessel, and we had also saved some of the
rigging, which had been entangled in the bulwarks.
"We shall want every scrap of rope we can find!" cried Jim, panting and
still pumping away.
"I'll take a spell with you," I said. "Then we'll turn to and rig the
ship."
I pumped till I could pump no longer, and then, after a short rest, we
commenced in earnest. We first lashed a short spar, with a tackle
secured to its head, to the stump of the foremast, and then, having
fitted two shrouds on a side, with a forestay and backstays, and blocks
for the halliards, to the spar we had chosen for a foremast, we swayed
it up my means of the short spar and tackle. We could not possibly in
any other way have accomplished our object. We next lashed the spar to
the stump of the mast. No time was lost in setting up the standing
rigging. Our foremast being thus fixed, we surveyed it with infinite
satisfaction, and then turned to and fitted the brig with a mainmast in
the same fashion. This we made somewhat stronger, as we intended it to
carry a mainsail should we have to haul on a wind. Our work, as may be
supposed, was not especially neat--indeed, we had to knot most of the
shrouds, as it was necessary to keep all the longer lengths of rope for
halliards, and we had none to spare.
I cannot stop to explain how we accomplished all this; we could not have
done it without employing tackles, which we brought to the windlass, and
thus gained twenty times as much power as we by ourselves possessed.
We were now pretty well tired and hungry, for, except some bread and
cheese and a jug of cold water, we had taken nothing all day.
It was with a feeling of awe that we went down into the cabin where the
old captain lay. Jim, however, closed the door of the state-room, so
that we could not see him. We then lighted the fire and cooked some
dinner--or rather supper, for evening was drawing on. Anxious to be
again at work, we hurried over the meal.
"I say, Peter, don't you think we ought to bury the skipper?" asked Jim,
after a long silence.
"Not for some days to come," I answered; "I hope that we may get into
port first, so as to lay him in a grave on shore."
"I don't think it will make much odds to him; and, to say the truth, now
he's dead, I'd rather he were out of the ship," said Jim; "they say it's
unlucky to have a dead man on board."
I had some difficulty in persuading Jim of the folly of such a notion,
but we finally agreed that we would try to carry the captain's body to
land.
Before bending sails we took a look down forward to see the condition of
the leaks. The handspikes were in their places, and, except a slight
moisture round the holes, we could not discover that any water was
getting in. Still there was a great deal too much in the brig for
safety, so we took another spell at the pumps before going on with the
rigging.
Darkness found us hard at work. We were too tired and sleepy to attempt
keeping a look-out, but I bethought me of hoisting a lantern at each
masthead, which would save us from being run down should a breeze spring
up during the night Jim thought the idea capital, and promised to get up
and trim the lamps.
Fortunately, the nights were short, so that there was not much necessity
for that. Our chief wish now was that the calm would continue for a few
hours during the next day, that we might get the brig to rights.
"One spell more at the pumps!" cried Jim.
We seized the brakes, worked till we could work no longer, then went
below, ate some food from the pantry, and lying down in the two larboard
berths in the cabin, were fast asleep in a few seconds.
People talk of sleeping like tops. A hard-worked ship-boy will beat any
top in the world at sleeping soundly.
For a second night the brig lay becalmed. I doubt that if even a fierce
gale had sprung up it would have awakened us. The sun was shining when
I opened my eyes. It might have been shining for hours for what I could
tell.
I roused up Jim, and we sprang on deck, vexed at having, as we supposed,
lost so much precious time. By the height of the sun above the horizon,
however, we judged that it was not so late as we had at first fancied.
The clock in the cabin had been unshipped when the brig went over, and
the captain's watch had stopped, so that we had otherwise no means of
knowing how the hours passed by. It was still perfectly calm. We
looked round in all directions. Not a sail was in sight.
"We must get ready for the breeze, Jim, when it does spring up," I said.
"It will come before many hours are over, I've a notion."