THE WRECK.
"I CAN see the buoy, uncle, over there on the weatherbow."
"That is right, Jack. I am always glad when we get that buoy; it is the
hardest to find of any of them. We shall have to jibe going round it.
You stand by to brail the sail up when I give the word; we might carry
away the gaff at the jaws if we let the sail go over all standing now."
As soon as they neared the buoy Tom Hoskins got in the oar with which
the mainsail was boomed out. "Now, Jack, brail up the sail as she comes
round. Haul in the sheet as fast as you can, Tom, and pay it out again
handsomely as it comes over. That is the way. Now fasten the sheet and
throw off the main-tack and trice the sail up pretty near to the throat.
"That will do. Slack the brail off, Jack. Now haul in the sheet a bit.
You had better let the foresail down, Tom; the wind is heavy, and there
is too much sea on here to drive her through it too fast."
The sea would have been far heavier than it now was in another two
hours' time, but the water was still very shallow on the sands, and this
broke the force of the waves. The boat was now running along the narrow
channel of deep water leading between the Spitway Buoy and the Bell
Buoy, and almost at right angles to the course they had before been
following. The wind was almost on their beam, and even under the reduced
canvas the _Bessy_ was lying far over, the water covering three planks
of her deck on the starboard side. They could see the buoy, and
presently could hear its deep tolling as the hammers struck the bell
with every motion of the buoy.
"Ah! here is another heavy rain squall coming down. I am glad we are
round the Bell Buoy before it came up. Jack, you may as well put the
tea-kettle on. A cup of tea will be a comfort."
All three were wrapped up in oil-skins; but in spite of this they had a
general sensation of dampness, for it had been raining more or less ever
since they started. Jack was below, when he heard a far louder roar of
the wind than before, and heard his uncle shout, "Brail up the main as
far as you can, Tom--the jib is about all we want now!"
Jack looked out from the fo'castle. The wind was blowing tremendously,
sweeping the heads off the waves and driving them into sheets of spray;
then great drops of rain struck the deck almost with the force of
bullets, and a minute later it came down almost in bucketfuls.
"Do you want me, uncle?" he shouted. His voice did not reach Ben's ears,
but he guessed what he had said and waved his hand to him to remain in
the fo'castle. Jack took off his sou'-wester and shook the water from
his oil-skin, and then opening the locker where the coke was kept
replenished the fire. It settled down so dark when the squall struck the
boat that he could scarce see across the little cabin. Regardless of the
howling of the wind and the motion of the vessel, he sat on the floor
putting in stick after stick to hasten up the fire. As soon as the
kettle boiled he put in a handful of tea and some sugar and took the
kettle off the fire, then he got a couple of large mugs and half-filled
them with tea, and sat balancing them until the fluid was sufficiently
cool to be drunk. Then tying on his sou'-wester again he made his way
out and gave a mug to each of the others.
"Go down below again, Jack!" his uncle shouted at the top of his voice,
and although Jack was within two or three feet of him, he scarcely heard
him. "There is nothing to be done at present here, and it is no use
looking out for the Swin Middle at present."
Jack took a look round before he went below. Away at some distance on
either hand were white masses of foam where the sea was breaking on the
sands. He went up to the bow and looked ahead through the darkness, then
he went back to his uncle. "I caught sight of a light right over the
bowsprit."
"Ah! they have lit up then," Tripper said. "I thought they would, for
it is almost as dark as night. You had best get the side-lights ready
and the flareup. I don't suppose we shall want them, for if we see a
steamer coming down we will give her a clear berth. They won't be able
to look far ahead in the face of this wind and rain." Jack went forward
again and lay down on the lockers. He thought little of the storm. It
was a severe one, no doubt, but with the wind nearly due aft, and a
weather tide, it was nothing to the _Bessy_, whose great beam in
comparison to her length enabled her to run easily before the wind, when
a long narrow craft would have been burying herself.
Presently he thought he heard his uncle shout, and getting up looked
aft. Tom Hoskins was now at the helm. Tripper was standing beside him,
and pointing at something broad away on the beam. Jack at once made his
way aft.
"What is it, uncle?"
"I saw the flash of a gun. Ah! there it is again. There is a ship ashore
on the Middle Sunk." Jack gazed in the direction in which his uncle was
pointing. In a minute there was another flash.
"It is all over with her," Ben Tripper said solemnly. "The strongest
ship that ever was built could not hold together long on that sand with
such a sea on as there will be there now."
"Cannot we do something?"
Tripper was silent for half a minute. "What do you think, Tom? We might
get there through the swashway. There is plenty of water for us, and we
could lay our course there. It is a risky business, you know, and we may
not be able to get near her when we get there; but that we cannot tell
till we see how she is fixed. Still, if we could get there before she
goes to pieces we might perhaps save some of them."
"I don't mind, Ben, if you don't," the other said. "I have neither wife
nor child, and if you like to take the risk, I am ready."
Ben Tripper looked at Jack. "I would not mind if it wasn't for the boy,"
he said.
"Don't mind me, uncle," Jack burst out. "I would not have you hang back
because of me, not for anything in the world. Do try it, uncle. It would
be awful to think of afterwards, when we hear of her being lost with all
hands, that we might have saved some of them perhaps if we had tried."
Ben still hesitated, when another bright flash was seen. It was an
appeal for aid he could not resist. "Put down the helm, Tom," he said.
"Now, Jack, help me to rouse in the sheet. That will do. Now then for a
pull on the jib-sheet. Now we will put the last reef in the foresail and
hoist it, slack the brail and haul down the main-tack a bit. We must
keep good way on her crossing the tide." Now that they were nearly
close-hauled instead of running before the wind, Jack recognized much
more strongly than before how heavy was the sea and how great the force
of the wind. Lively as the boat was, great masses of water poured over
her bow and swept aft as each wave struck her. Her lee bulwarks were
completely buried.
"Give me the helm, Tom," Tripper said; "and get those hatchways up and
cover the well, and lash the tarpaulin over it. It is bad enough here,
it will be worse when we get into broken water near the wreck." Most of
the bawleys are provided with hatches for closing the long narrow place
known as the 'well,' but it is only under quite exceptional
circumstances that they are ever used. Jack and the man got them up and
managed to fit them in their places, but getting the tarpaulin over them
was beyond their power.
"I will throw her up into the wind," Ben said. "Haul on the weather
fore-sheet as I do, and belay it with the foot of the sail just to
windward of the mast. Now rouse in the main-sheet. That is right."
Quitting the tiller as the boat lay-to to the wind, Ben lent his aid to
the other two, and in three or four minutes the tarpaulin was securely
lashed over the hatches, and the boat completely battened down.
"Now, Jack, you had best lash yourself to something or you will be swept
overboard; we shall have it a lot worse than this presently. Now, Tom,
before we get well away again get the last reef in the mainsail, then we
can haul the tack down taut again; the sail will stand much better so,
and we shall want to keep her all to windward if she is to go through
the swashway."
When all was ready the fore weather-sheet was let go, and the lee-sheet
hauled taut. The main-sheet was slacked off a little and the _Bessy_
proceeded on her way. It was a terrible half-hour; fortunately the dense
heavy clouds had broken a little, and it was lighter than it had been,
but this only rendered the danger more distinct. Once in the swashway,
which is the name given to a narrow channel between the sands, the waves
were less high. But on either hand they were breaking wildly, for there
were still but four or five feet of water over the sands. The sea was
nearly abeam now, and several times Jack almost held his breath as the
waves lifted the _Bessy_ bodily to leeward and threatened to cast her
into the breaking waters but a few fathoms away. But the skipper knew
his boat well and humoured her through the waves, taking advantage of
every squall to eat up a little to windward, but always keeping her
sails full and plenty of way on her. At last they were through the
swashway; and though the sea was again heavier, and the waves frequently
swept over the decks, Jack gave a sigh of relief. They could make out
the hull of the vessel now looming up black over the white surf that
surrounded it. She had ceased firing, either from the powder being
wetted or her guns disabled.
"Which way had we better get at her, Tom?" Ben Tripper asked. "She is
pretty near on the top of the sand."
"The only way we have a chance of helping her is by laying-to, or
anchoring on the edge of the sand to leeward of her. They may be able to
drift a line down to us. I do not see any other way. Our anchors
wouldn't hold to windward of her."
"No; I suppose that is the best way, Tom. We must make the best
allowance we can for the wind and the set of tide, otherwise they will
never drift a line down to us. She won't hold together long. Her stern
is gone as far as the mizzen, so we must be quick about it."
The wreck was evidently a sailing vessel. Her masts were all gone, her
bulwarks carried away, and she lay far heeled over. A group of people
could be seen huddled up in the bow as they neared her. Tom Hoskins and
Jack had for the last ten minutes been busy getting the spare anchor up
on deck and fastening to it the wrap of the trawl-net, which was by far
the strongest rope they had on board.
"What water is there on the sand, Ben?"
"Six or seven feet on the edge, but less further on. We do not draw over
five feet, so we will keep on till we touch. The moment we do so let the
two anchors go. Wind and tide will take her off again quick enough. Pay
out ten or twelve fathoms of chain, and directly she holds up drop the
lead-line overboard to see if she drags; if she does, give her some more
rope and chain."
The anchors were both got overboard and in readiness to let go at a
moment's notice, the instant the _Bessy_ took ground.
The foresail was lowered and the mainsail partly brailed up, so that she
had only way on her sufficient to stem the tide. As they entered the
broken water Jack was obliged to take a step back and hold on to the
mast. Her motion had before been violent, but to a certain extent
regular; now she was tossed in all directions so sharply and violently
that he expected every moment that the mast would go. Tom looked round
at Ben. The latter pointed to the sail and waved his hand. Tom
understood him, and going to the mast loosened the brail a little to
give her more sail, for the waves completely knocked the way out of her.
When she forged ahead again, Tom returned to his post.
Jack held his breath every time the boat pitched, but she kept on
without touching until within some eighty yards of the wreck; then as
she pitched forward down a wave there was a shock that nearly threw Jack
off his feet, prepared for it though he was. In a moment he steadied
himself, and crept forward and cut the lashing of the hawser just as Tom
severed that of the chain. The latter rattled out for a moment. There
was another shock, but less violent than the first, and then the renewed
rattle of the chain showed that she was drifting astern. Ben now left
the tiller and sprang forward. The jib was run in by the traveller and
got down, the foresail had been cast off and had run down the forestay
the moment she struck, and the three now set to work to lower the
mainsail.
"She is dragging," Tom said, examining the lead-line, "but not fast."
"Give her another five or six fathoms of chain," Ben said, himself
attending to the veering out of the hawser.
This done they again watched the lead-line. It hung straight down by the
side of the vessel.
"They have got her!" Ben said. "Now then for the ship."
For the first time since they entered the broken water they had leisure
to look about them. Those on board the ship had lost no time, and had
already launched a light spar with a line tied to it into the water.
"It will miss us," Ben said, after watching the spar for a minute. "You
see, I allowed for wind and tide, and the wind does not affect the spar,
and the tide will sweep it down thirty or forty yards on our port bow."
It turned out so. Those on board payed out the line until the spar
floated abreast of the smack, but at a distance of some thirty yards
away.
"What is to be done?" Ben asked. "If we were to try to get up sail again
we should drift away so far to leeward we should never be able to beat
back."
"Look here," Jack said; "if you signal to them to veer out some more
rope I could soon do it. I could not swim across the tide now, but if it
were twenty fathom further astern I could manage it."
"You could never swim in that sea, Jack."
"Well, I could try, uncle. Of course you would fasten a line round me,
and if I cannot get there you will haul me in again. There cannot be any
danger about that."
So saying Jack at once proceeded to throw off his oil-skins and
sea-boots, while Ben went to the bow of the boat and waved to those on
the wreck to slack out more line. They soon understood him, and the spar
was presently floating twenty yards further astern. Jack had by this
time stripped. A strong line was now fastened round his body under his
arms, and going up to the bow of the boat, so as to give himself as long
a distance as possible to drift, he prepared for the swim.