of the several ships had not been idle during the night was shown by the
scattered appearance of the fleet. Six of the fifteen sail counted by
Captain Blyth on the previous evening were hull-down to the northward,
in which direction three more vessels had put in an appearance during
the hours of darkness; but these three were all in a bunch and about
twelve miles to the northward and westward of the _Flying Cloud_. A
solitary sail had also hove up above the southern horizon during the
same period, and the remaining nine were scattered over an area of about
seven miles; the barque before referred to being nearest the _Flying
Cloud_, but a shade to the southward of her, showing how partial had
been the light airs encountered during the night.
About four bells in the forenoon watch, that day, a few light cats'-paws
were seen stealing over the surface of the water from the southward, and
the sails of the several vessels were properly trimmed to meet them.
The _Flying Cloud_ happened to be heading to the westward, whilst the
barque was heading east when the little breeze reached them, in
consequence of which the two vessels began to approach each other on
opposite tacks as soon as their canvas filled. Captain Blyth had been
informed of the mysterious incident of the previous night on board the
barque, and he now announced his intention of speaking her if the breeze
lasted long enough to bring the two vessels within speaking distance.
It was at first doubtful if this would be the case, but when the two
vessels were within about a cable's-length of each other a somewhat
stronger puff came up, dying away again just as the _Flying Cloud_ was
slowly passing under the barque's stern.
The usual hails were exchanged, by means of which each captain was made
acquainted with the name, destination, port sailed from, number of days
out, and so on, of the other vessel (the barque turning out to be the
_Ceres_, of Liverpool, bound from that port to Capetown); and then
Captain Blyth continued:
"Was anything wrong on board you last night? Some of my people thought
they heard some sort of a commotion in your direction."
"Yes," answered the skipper from the barque. "I am grieved to say that
we lost one of our best men. The poor, foolish fellow--unknown to me,
of course--took the notion into his head to jump overboard, with the
idea of swimming round the ship. He jumped from the starboard cat-head,
and had very nearly completed his journey when he was seized by a shark
and carried off from under our very eyes, as it might be. We lowered
the gig and gave chase, but the boat could not get near him, and at last
the fish dived, taking the man down with him, and we never saw any more
of either. Good-bye! if we don't meet again I'll be sure to report you
when we get in!"
The vessels gradually drifted apart, and the short colloquy was brought
to a close.
"Good heavens, how horrible!" ejaculated Gaunt, turning to his fellow-
passengers, who, with himself, had heard the short history of the
tragedy. "That must, undoubtedly, have been the identical shark we saw.
Being in the water he, of course, heard the plunge of the unfortunate
man before the sound reached our ears, and at once made off, as we saw,
in that direction. How little we dreamed of the fatal errand on which
he was bound as we watched him disappear! Truly, `in the midst of life
we are in death.'"
Shortly before noon a black, heavy, thunderous-looking cloud worked up
from the southward, and, when immediately over the ship, burst with a
tremendous downpour of rain, but with no wind. Seeing that the fall was
likely to be heavy, Captain Blyth ordered a couple of studding-sails to
be opened out and spread to catch the water as it fell, and so copious
was the shower that not only did they succeed in completely refilling
all the tanks, but, by plugging up the scupper-holes the men were
actually enabled to enjoy the unwonted luxury of a thorough personal
cleansing in the warm soft water, and also to wash a change of clothing.
The ladies and children, had, of course, been driven below by the heavy
downpour; but they were not forgotten, Messrs. Henderson and Gaunt
taking care to promptly secure a sufficiency of water to afford each of
them the treat of a copious fresh-water bath.
Between sunrise and sunset that day, the _Flying Cloud_ contrived to
make nearly eight miles of southing, and a small slant of wind during
the night enabled her to make about fourteen more. When morning dawned
they were again becalmed; but the sky was overcast, and it was evident
that a heavy thunder-squall was working up from the eastward, and
Captain Blyth was in hopes that when it came it would do them good
service. He was on deck at daylight, eager to see if he could discover
any traces of the _Southern Cross_; and great was his jubilation when,
after a most careful scanning of the horizon from the main-topgallant-
yard, he failed to detect anything at all like her in sight.
By breakfast-time the aspect of the sky was so threatening that Captain
Blyth gave instructions to have all the lighter canvas taken in, leaving
the ship under topsails, courses, fore-topmast staysail, jib, and mizen.
It was well that he took this precaution, for just as they sat down to
breakfast it began to thunder and lighten heavily, and about ten minutes
later, a terrific downpour of rain followed. The rain suddenly ceased,
and the murky darkness of the atmosphere as suddenly gave place to a
vivid yellow light, a change which caused the skipper to spring to his
feet and rush out on deck without even the pretence of an apology to his
passengers for so abrupt a movement. On reaching the deck his first
glance was to the eastward, the direction from which the light emanated,
and he then saw that the heavy veil of black cloud--which now completely
overspread the heavens--was in that quarter rent asunder, leaving a
great gap through which was revealed a momentarily increasing patch of
pale straw-coloured sky. The water was every where black as ink save
beneath this livid streak, but there it presented the appearance of a
long line of snow-white foam advancing toward the ship with terrific
rapidity.
The second-mate, who was in charge of the deck, was standing on the poop
regarding this phenomenon with a doubtful expression of visage, which
gave place to one of unmistakable relief when he saw the skipper on
deck.
"That looks like a squall coming down, sir"--he began. But Captain
Blyth had no time to attend to him just then; he saw that there was not
a moment to be lost, and turning his back unceremoniously upon Mr
Willoughby he shouted:
"Stand by your topsail-halliards here, the watch! Hurry up, my lads, or
we shall lose the sticks! Let run, fore and aft!"
The men, who saw what was coming, and had been expecting the call,
sprang at once to their stations, let go the halliards, and then helped
the revolving yards down by manning the topsail-clewlines, by which
means the three topsails were snugly close-reefed by the moment that the
squall burst upon them. There was no time to do more or Captain Blyth
would have taken the courses off the ship. As it was she had to bear
them; and so heavy was the squall that during its height the vessel was
compelled to run dead before it. Her head was, however, brought to the
southward the moment that it was safe to do so, and away she went like a
frightened thing, tearing through the surges with her lee gunwale under.
The first fury of the squall was spent in about a quarter of an hour,
but it continued to blow with great violence until noon, when the gale
broke and the crew were able to take a pull of a few feet upon the
topsail-halliards. By eight bells in the afternoon watch the ship was
under whole topsails once more, with a clear sea all round her and a
rapidly clearing sky; and at ten o'clock that same evening, when Captain
Blyth entered the saloon, after personally superintending the setting of
the topgallant-sails, he announced not only that there was every
prospect of a fine night and a steady breeze, but also that he believed
they had caught the south-east trades.
CHAPTER FIVE.
THE DERELICT BARQUE.
The next morning demonstrated the correctness of Captain Blyth's
surmise; for daylight found them with the breeze still steady at about
east by south, and so fresh that they were compelled to keep all their
skysails and the mizen-royal stowed. Needless to say, everybody was
delighted at having slipped through the Doldrums so easily; even the
chief-mate almost allowed himself now and then to be betrayed into an
expression of dawning amiability; and, as for Captain Blyth, his
exuberance of spirits threatened at times to pass all bounds. He
believed it quite impossible that the _Southern Cross_ could now cross
the line in less than three days, at least, after himself; and the way
in which the _Flying Cloud_, against a fair amount of head sea and on a
taut bowline, was steadily reeling off her eight, nine, and sometime
even ten knots per hour, with her really extraordinary weatherliness,
quite convinced him that he could beat his antagonist in any weather
which would permit him to show his topgallant-sails to it.
This state of general satisfaction and good humour was at its height,
when about ten o'clock on that same morning, a man who was at work on
the weather fore-topsail-yard-arm hailed the deck with:
"On deck, there! There is a wreck, or something like it, broad on our
weather-beam, and about nine mile off."
Captain Blyth was on deck, and so was Ned; and the skipper immediately
ordered that young gentleman to go aloft with his glass to see if he
could make out the object.
Ned was soon in the main-topmast cross-trees, from which elevated stand-
point he was at once enabled to make out the whereabouts of the supposed
wreck with the naked eye, and he was not long in bringing his glass to
bear upon it.
"Well, Ned, my hearty," hailed the skipper, when the lad had been
working away in a puzzled manner with his telescope, "that you see
something is perfectly evident. What d'ye make her out to be?"
"It is not very easy to say, sir," replied Ned. "The light is so
dazzling in that quarter that I can see nothing but a dark patch; but it
looks more like a vessel on her beam-ends than anything else. But, if
it is so, she is lying over so much that her sails are in the water."
"Phew!" whistled the skipper. "We must have a look at her; it will
never do to leave a ship in such a fix as that. Can you see any people
on board her, Ned?"
"No, sir," was the answer. "But if there _are_ people on board it would
be impossible to make them out from our present position."
"No, no," muttered the skipper, "I don't suppose it would; of course
not. Hark ye, Ned; just stay where you are, my lad, and let me know
when we have brought the wreck a good couple of points abaft our beam,
and in the meantime take a look round with your glass and see if you can
make out anything like a boat anywhere."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied Ned, settling himself into a comfortable, easy
position in the cross-trees, somewhat to the secret trepidation of Miss
Stanhope, who was watching his movements with a great deal of
undemonstrative interest, and who every moment dreaded that the young
man's careless attitude, coupled with the pitching of the ship, would
result in a fall. Nothing of the kind, however, happened; and in due
time Ned hailed:
"I think we can fetch her now, sir. I can make her out much better than
I could a quarter of an hour ago; and I believe she _is_ a ship on her
beam-ends. I can see nothing of boats in any direction, sir."
"Very well," replied Captain Blyth. "Stay where you are, nevertheless,
and continue to keep a bright look-out. We will tack the ship, if you
please, Mr Bryce."
"Ay, ay, sir. Hands 'bout ship!" responded the chief-mate; and in a
minute or two the men were at their stations.
"All ready, sir!" reported Mr Bryce Captain Blyth walked aft to the
mizen-rigging, signed to the helmsman, and gave the word:
"Helm's a-lee!"
"Helm's a-lee," responded the men, lifting the coiled-up braces and so
on from the pins and throwing them down on the deck all ready for
running.
The ship shot handsomely up into the wind; and the word was given to
"raise tacks and sheets," quickly followed by the other commands; and in
a couple of minutes the _Flying Cloud_ was round and heading well up for
the wreck, whilst the crew bowsed down the fore and main tacks
simultaneously with the aid of a couple of watch tackles.
To the honour of Captain Blyth be it said that, though his interest in
the race between his own ship and the _Southern Cross_ was as ardent as
though his very life depended upon its result, not one single murmur
escaped him on account of this delay; for delay it certainly was. No;
apart, perhaps, from the passengers, he of all on board betrayed the
most anxiety respecting the crew of the distressed vessel.
In an hour the _Flying Cloud_ was hove-to abreast and close to leeward
of the wreck, which proved to be a fine wooden barque, copper-bottomed,
on her beam-ends, as Ned had reported, with her masts lying prone in the
water. There was no sign of any one on board her; nevertheless Captain
Blyth ordered one of the gigs to be lowered, and instructed Mr Bryce to
proceed to the wreck and give her a careful overhaul. At Mr Gaunt's
own request that gentleman accompanied the mate.
The little party had some difficulty in boarding the derelict, for she
was lying broadside-on to the wind, with her masts pointing to windward;
and though there was no very great amount of sea running, there was
still sufficient to make boarding from to windward an awkward if not an
absolutely dangerous matter, in consequence of the raffle of spars and
cordage in the water. But they succeeded at last; Mr Gaunt and the
mate contriving to gain a footing in the main-rigging, whilst the boat
with her crew backed off again out of harm's way. The task of examining
the vessel, now that they were actually on board her, was even more
difficult and dangerous than that of boarding, the ship lying so far
over that her deck was perpendicular. By getting out on her weather
side, however, and by means of ropes'-ends, they eventually succeeded in
penetrating first to the cabin, and then to the forecastle (both of
which were on deck); but in neither was there any one to be found.
There were, however, in the cabin, signs--such as open and partially
empty boxes and trunks, with articles of wearing apparel scattered
about--which seemed to indicate that the vessel had been very hurriedly
abandoned; and the state of these articles was such as to lead Mr Gaunt
to the conclusion that the abandonment had taken place within the
previous twenty-four hours.
Having so far completed their examination, the boat was signalled to
again approach, and a few minutes later the party found themselves once
more on the deck of the _Flying Cloud_, the chief-mate briefly reporting
that the barque was undoubtedly abandoned.
"Then," said Captain Blyth, hesitatingly, "I suppose there is nothing
more to be done but to hoist up the boat and fill away upon our course
again?"
"No; I suppose not, sir," replied Bryce, in a tone of voice which very
sufficiently indicated his supreme indifference.
"Very well," said the skipper, "man the--"
"Excuse me, Captain Blyth, but may I offer a suggestion?" interrupted
Mr Gaunt.
"Assuredly, my dear sir," responded the skipper; "what suggestion would
you offer?"
"Well," said Mr Gaunt, "if I may be permitted to say so, it seems a
great pity to leave that fine ship there, to be possibly run into by and
perhaps to occasion the loss of another ship; or, as an alternative, to
eventually founder. So far as I could perceive, the hull is as sound
and tight as ever it was, and, by the way she floats, I do not believe
she has very much water in her; and with regard to her spars, her fore
and main-topgallant masts are snapped off short by the caps, which
appears to be about all the damage done in that direction. Now, why
should you not right her, pump her out, man her, and send her into port?
If her cargo is valuable, as is likely to be the case, it would put a
handsome sum of salvage money into your pocket."
"So it would, sir," replied the skipper. "I was thinking of that just
now, but couldn't exactly see how the thing is to be done; and as Mr
Bryce seemed to have no idea of any such thing, why I concluded it must
be impracticable."
"By no means, I should say," observed Mr Gaunt. "We engineers, you
know, are constantly accomplishing things which other people would be
disposed to pronounce impossible; and I confess I see no great
difficulty in this case. I believe the barque is only held down in her
present position by the weight of the water in her canvas."
Mr Gaunt then indicated to the skipper the means which he thought would
be likely to prove successful; and Captain Blyth, though somewhat
doubtful of the result, was sufficiently impressed to express his
willingness to try the experiment, Mr Gaunt volunteering--to his wife's
secret dismay--to assist by taking charge of a small working party on
board the derelict.
To work all hands accordingly went. The gig once more shoved off for
the barque, which was boarded by the energetic engineer and four men,
who took with them a coil of light line, an axe, and, of course, their
clasp knives. The little party got out on the weather side of the ship,
in the main-chains, uncoiled their line, and were then all ready to
commence operations. The gig, meanwhile, returned to the ship, and
received on board a large but light new steel towing hawser, which was
coiled down in long flakes fore and aft the boat, and with this she once
more went alongside the barque, to leeward of her this time, however--
that is to say, alongside the vessel's upturned bilge. A rope's-end was
hove into her by the little working party in the main-chains, and by
this means the end of the hawser was hauled on board, and, with some
labour and difficulty, eventually made fast round the mainmast head,
just above the truss of the main-yard. This done, a signal was made to
the _Flying Cloud_, which had meanwhile drifted some distance away, and
the ship thereupon filled her main-topsail and bore up, waring short
round upon her heel. At the same time the crew hauled up the courses,
clewed up royals and topgallant-sails, and, in short, reduced the canvas
to the three topsails, jib, and spanker. She was now upon the larboard
tack. Having stood on a sufficient distance, Captain Blyth went in
stays, and the ship was again headed for the barque. Now came the only
delicate part of the operation. But the skipper was an accomplished
seaman, and he managed his part of the work to perfection, bringing the
_Flying Cloud_ up alongside the barque so close to leeward that there
was only bare room for the boat between the two hulls; and at the proper
moment the main-topsail was backed and the way of the ship stopped. A
rope's-end, to which the other end of the hawser was attached, was then
promptly hove from the boat alongside and smartly hauled inboard over
the ship's bows, and several turns of the hawser were taken round the
windlass-bitts. Then, by carefully manipulating the canvas, the _Flying
Cloud_ was brought head to wind, or with her bows towards the derelict,
until, dropping to leeward all the time, the hawser was tautened out and
a strain brought upon it. The topsails were then laid flat aback, and
the result was awaited with some anxiety; the boat meanwhile remaining
alongside the derelict to take off Mr Gaunt and his little party in the
event of any accident happening. For a few minutes no visible result
attended these manoeuvres; but at length a shout from Mr Gaunt of
"Hurrah, there she rises! Be ready to let go the hawser on board there
when I give the word" was followed by a barely perceptible indication
that the vessel was righting. The movement increased; and then, still
gradually, the masts rose out of the water until they were at an angle
of about forty-five degrees with the horizon, when the vessel recovered
herself so suddenly that the little party on board had to cling on for
their lives or they would have been flung into the sea. A heavy roll or
two followed, and the vessel then settled upon an even keel once more,
with the water pouring in torrents out of the canvas down on to the
deck, and wetting Mr Gaunt and his crew to the skin. Captain Blyth was
personally superintending his share of the operations from the _Flying
Cloud's_ forecastle, and at the proper moment the end of the hawser was
cast off and let fly overboard, to be recovered later on by the gig.
The first thing the engineer now did was to heave-to the barque as well
as he could with his scanty crew; his next act was to sound the well,
with the result that a depth of five feet of water was found in the
hold. This, however, was not so formidable a matter as it at first
sight appeared; for, the hold being tightly packed with cargo, the water
could only get into the interstices, and a comparatively small quantity
would consequently show a large rise in the pump-well.
A strong gang was now sent on board the barque, with the chief-mate in
command; and the pumps were at once manned. A quarter of an hour's work
at these sufficed to show that the vessel was making no water (that
which was already in her having doubtless made its way in through the
top-sides and down the pump-well whilst the craft was on her beam-ends);
the men therefore went to work with a will, and by eight bells in the
afternoon watch it was reported that the ship was dry.
Mr Gaunt, meanwhile, made his way into the cabin as soon as the mate
took charge, and proceeded to give the place a general overhaul, with
the object of ascertaining who and what the vessel was. He succeeded in
finding the log-book, log-slate, and the captain's desk, with all of
which he proceeded on board the _Flying Cloud_. The articles were
placed in the hands of Captain Blyth, who forthwith sat down to examine
them, with the result that the barque was found to be the _Umhloti_ of
Aberdeen, her commander's name being Anderson. She was from Port Natal,
bound to London, thirty-three days out when discovered; and her cargo
consisted of hides, ivory, indigo, coffee, sugar, and wool. She was
therefore a very valuable find, well worth the time and trouble they
were devoting to her. The last entry on the log-slate had been made at
eight o'clock on the previous morning; and the log-book had been
written-up as far as noon on the day preceding that. Captain Blyth had
therefore no difficulty in arriving at the conclusion that the vessel
must have been capsized in a very similar squall to that which had
struck the _Flying Cloud_ on the previous day, and at about the same
moment. This surmise was confirmed by the fact that when Mr Gaunt had
entered the captain's state-room he had found the chronometers still
going, though nearly run down. He had, of course, at once taken the
precaution to wind them afresh.
Having brought the pumps to suck, the next task of the men on board the
_Umhloti_ was to clear away and send down on deck the wreck of the fore
and main-topgallant masts, with all attached, a couple of hands being at
the same time deputed to give the store-room an overhaul to ascertain
whether the contents had been damaged or not by water. Everything was
luckily found to be in perfect order there, the water not having risen
high enough in the hull to reach the lazarette. This being found to be
the case, nothing now remained but to man the vessel and dispatch her on
her homeward way.