"Here's another coming," roared Bostock, hoarsely. "Back into shelter,
or we shall be swept away."
He set the example, still bearing the insensible boy, and the next
minute they had reached the comparative security of the saloon, where
the water was now washing to and fro, coming in with a rush and pouring
out again.
The first efforts of the two men were now directed towards carefully
placing Carey high and dry in an upper berth of one of the state-room
cabins, where a lamp was still burning steadily as it swung to and fro.
"Hasn't killed him, has it, sir?" growled Bostock, excitedly, as the
doctor examined his patient.
"No; he is breathing easily, and the bandages have not shifted," replied
the doctor, who then turned upon his companion in misfortune and said in
a hard, defiant way: "Well, my man, this seems hard luck; we're left in
the lurch. I suppose the captain will not come back to take us off."
"Come back and take us off, sir?" said the old sailor, with a bitter
laugh. "Not him. He's got his work cut out to keep that barge afloat.
Lord help 'em all, I say, all on 'em in those open boats. There they
are afloat among reefs and breakers in a storm like this. For aught we
know, sir, they're all capsized and washing about like so much chaff by
now."
"Then you think we're better off than they are?"
"No, I don't," growled the old man, sourly, as a wave came thundering
over the vessel, shaking it from bow to stern. "It won't be long before
one of them breakers'll make a way in and bust up part of the deck; and
after that it won't be long before she's ripped in pieces. Lor' a
mussy! the power of a thousand tons o' water going miles an hour's
awful. Shreds beams into matches, and twists ironwork like wire. It
only means a few minutes more to live, doctor; and, as you say, it do
seem hard. Poor boy!" he continued, laying his great rough hand
tenderly on Carey's breast. "All his young life before him, and nipped
off sudden like this."
"Poor boy, yes," said the doctor, gently. "But I'm thankful that he is
quite insensible, and will not know the agony we have to face."
The old sailor looked curiously in his companion's face.
"Agony!" he said, slowly; "agony! Well, I suppose it is, but I've been
face to face with the end so many times that I suppose I've got a bit
blunt. Do you know, sir, it seems to nip me more about that poor young
chap than it does about myself."
The doctor looked at the speaker searchingly for a few moments, and then
said, quietly:
"Can we do anything to try and save his life, my man? Life-preservers,
raft, or anything of that sort?"
The old sailor laughed softly.
"Life-preserver in a sea like this means being smothered in a few
minutes, and such a raft as we could make would be knocked to pieces and
us washed off. No, sir; we're in shelter where we can die peaceably,
and all we can do is to meet it like men."
The doctor's brow knit, and he looked as if in horrible pain for a few
moments. Then a calm, peaceful look came over his countenance, and he
smiled and held out his hand.
"Yes," he said, quietly; "meet it like men."
The old sailor stared at him for a moment, and then snatched and gripped
the extended hand in perfect silence.
"Ha!" he ejaculated at last. "I feel better, sir, after that. Now
let's talk about the youngster there."
The huge breakers had kept on steadily thundering at the side of the
steamer, rising over her and crashing down on her decks with the
greatest regularity; but now, as the old sailor spoke and turned towards
the insensible boy, it seemed as if a billow greater than any which had
come before rolled up and broke short on the reef, with the result that
the immense bank of water seemed to plunge under the broad side of the
steamer, lifting her, and once more they were borne on the summit of the
wave with a rush onward. There was a fierce, wild, hissing roar, and
the great vessel seemed to creak and groan as if it were a living
creature in its final agony, and old Bostock gripped the doctor's hand
again.
"It's come, my lad," he shouted, "and we'll meet it like men. We shall
strike again directly, and she'll go to pieces like a bundle of wood."
The two men had risen to their feet, and to steady themselves they each
laid the hand at liberty upon the berth which held their young
companion.
How long they stood like this neither of them could afterwards have
said, but it seemed an hour, during which the steamer was borne
broadside on by the huge roller, each listener in the deafening turmoil
and confusion bracing himself for the shock when she struck, till the
rate at which she progressed began to slacken into a steady glide, the
deafening roar of breakers grew less, and at last she rode on and on,
rising and falling gently, and with a slow rolling motion each minute
growing steadier.
But she did not strike.
The doctor was the first to speak.
"What does this mean?" he said, loudly, for the hissing and shrieking of
the wind kept on.
"The rollers have carried her right over the reef into one of they broad
lagoons, or else into the quieter water on the lee of the rocks, sir.
She mayn't strike now, only settle down, and sink in deep water."
As he spoke there was a grinding sound, a sudden stoppage, the vessel
having lifted a little and been set down with a great shock which threw
the two men heavily against the bulkhead of the cabin in which they
stood, and extinguished the lamp.
"We aren't in deep water, sir," roared Bostock, scrambling to his feet.
"Hold on; here we go again."
For the great steamer was lifted and glided steadily on for a while, to
ground once more with a crashing sound.
"That's scraping holes in her, sir," cried Bostock.
Then again she lifted and was borne on, apparently hundreds of yards, to
go crashing over the rough rocks again with a strange, deep, grinding
sound which lasted for some moments, before they were at rest on nearly
an even keel.
"Fast!" cried Bostock. "She'll never stir again, sir. Ground her way
all among the jagged coral rock, and she's held as fast now as a ship's
boat pitched in a sea o' spikes."
Doctor Kingsmead made no reply for some little time, while the old
sailor waited in vain for him to speak.
"Hurt, sir?" he cried at last.
"No," was the reply, followed by a deep sigh but faintly heard in the
roar of the wind.
"Then I'll try if I can't get a light, sir, afore one of us is. Seems
nice to be still once more. Do you know, sir, as we may reckon as we're
saved?"
"Yes," said the doctor, almost inaudibly; "but I can hardly believe it
true."
There was a clicking noise, and spark after spark of faint
phosphorescent light across the black darkness.
This was repeated again and again, but without further effect.
"No go, sir," cried Bostock then. "Got my matches wet, sir. If I lives
to get through this I'll allus keep 'em corked up in a bottle."
There was another streak of light directly after, followed by a flash
and a wax match burned brightly in the doctor's fingers, for those he
carried in a little silver box proved to be dry.
"Ha!" ejaculated Bostock, reaching up to the lamp, which was slowly
subsiding from its pendulum-like motion. "I hate being in the dark,
even if it's only a fog. You never know which way to steer."
"Can you light the lamp?"
"Yes, sir, all right, in a minute. Wick's got shook down. That's
better; give me hold, or you'll burn your fingers; mine's as hard as
horn. Well done; first go."
For the wick caught and burned brightly, the glass was replaced, and the
doctor was able to examine his patient once more.
"How is he, sir?"
"Just the same," replied the doctor.
"Well done; that's better than being worse, sir. And I say, it's
blowing great guns still, but nothing like what it was an hour ago.
Dessay it'll pass over before long. Come and let's see what it's like
on deck."
They went up together into a storm of blinding spray, which swept by
them with a hissing rush; but there were no raging billows striking the
steamer's sides and curling over in turns to sweep the deck, and,
getting into shelter, they tried vainly to make out their position.
They had no difficulty in stepping to the side of the saloon deck, for
there was no water to wade through, and the great vessel was as steady
now as if built upon a foundation of rock, and as soon as they had wiped
the spray from their eyes they tried hard to pierce the gloom.
But in vain. It was not very dark, but there was a thick mist which
seemed to glow faintly with a peculiar phosphorescent light that was
horribly weird and strange, and after a few minutes' effort they turned
to descend to the cabin again.
"This won't last long, sir," shouted the old sailor in the doctor's ear;
"these sort o' storms seldom do. Dessay it'll be all bright sunshine in
the mornin'. We're safe as safe, with the reef and the breakers far
enough away, but the old _Chusan_ will never breast the waves again."
"And all our friends?"
"Don't talk about it, sir. They were in sound boats, well manned, and
with good officers to each, but--oh dear! oh dear!--the sea's hard to
deal with in a storm like this."
"Do you think, then, that there is no hope?"
"Oh no, sir, I don't say that, for, you see, the waves didn't run high.
They may weather it all, but where they're carried to by the wind and
the awful currents there are about here no one knows."
"But are they likely to get back to us?"
"Not a bit, sir. They don't know where we are, and they'll have their
work cut out to find where they are themselves."
"Have you any idea where we are--what shore this is?"
"Hardly, sir. All I do know is that from the time the typhoon struck us
we must have been carried by wind and the fierce currents right away to
the west and south."
"And that means where?"
"Most like off the nor'-west coast o' 'Stralia, among the reefs and
islands there. It's like it is on the nor'-east coast, a reg'lar coral
sea.
"Ha!" continued Bostock, when they were once more in shelter. "S'pose
we take turn and turn now to watch young Master Carey. We're both worn
out, sir. You take fust rest; you're worst."
"No; lie down till I call you, my man."
"Do you order me to, sir?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Well, sir, I can't help it; I'm dead-beat."
The next minute the old sailor was down on the floor in his drenched
clothes, sleeping heavily, while, in thankfulness for the life which
seemed to have been given back when they were prepared to die, Doctor
Kingsmead watched by his patient's side, waiting for the cessation of
the storm and the light of day, which seemed as if it would never come.