THE SURAT CASTLE--OUR HERO--A ROUGH NIGHT IN THE ATLANTIC--AFTER THE
GALE--LAND HO!
In the early summer of the year of grace 1844 the _Surat Castle_, a fine
clipper barque of 400 tons burthen, left the London docks on a voyage to
the Cape of Good Hope, with a valuable cargo and several passengers,
including a small draft of volunteers and recruits for the Saint Helena
regiment. The _Surat Castle_ traded regularly between the port of
London and Table Bay, and so well-known was she as a fast-sailing,
seaworthy vessel, with excellent accommodation, and such was the
popularity and reputation of her commander and part-owner, Captain John
Ladds, that many Cape gentlemen, who had occasion to make the trip to
the old country and back every two or three years, preferred taking
their passage in her rather than in the ordinary mail-packets.
Amongst the cabin passengers who were now returning to the Cape in the
_Surat Castle_ was a good-looking lad of sixteen--a fine, well-built
youngster, with a cleanness of make and shape that bespoke muscular
strength and activity combined, and whose sun-burned healthy face and
clear well-set eye bore ample evidence that he was in capital condition;
in fact, sound in wind as well as limb.
Thomas Flinders, for that was the lad's name, was the only son of a
retired major of the Cape Mounted Riflemen, who had, with the money
realised by the sale of his commission, purchased a farm in the
neighbourhood of Cape Town, and there settled down with his family,
"turning his sword into a ploughshare." On this farm Master Tom first
saw the light of day, and there he lived until within a few weeks of his
eleventh birthday, when Major Flinders, finding that his son and heir
was becoming somewhat troublesome and self-willed, packed him off to
England to be educated at Rugby, under the great and good Doctor Arnold,
who was then in the zenith of his fame. Five years of public-school
life--three under Doctor Arnold [Arnold died in 1842], and two under his
successor--worked wonders with young Flinders, and developed him into a
plucky, straightforward English lad, full of fun and exuberant spirits,
but without a spark of vice in his composition; a gentleman in the
truest and noblest sense of the word, holding in hearty contempt aught
that savoured of meanness or "bad form." Nor had the lad's physical
education been neglected, for he became a very fair hand at most outdoor
games and sports; from fives to football, from quoits to
hare-and-hounds, and could play rough-and-tumble with any boy of his own
weight. And now Tom Flinders, having imbibed the regulation quantum of
Latin and Greek and a modicum of mathematics, together with a very
proper notion of his position as an ex-school-house boy and a member of
the upper-fifth, had left Rugby for good, and was returning to the land
of his birth under the nominal charge of Captain Ladds, who was an old
friend of the major's.
The early part of the voyage of the _Surat Castle_ was unmarked by any
incident worth recording. Stress of weather detained her in the Downs
for some few days, but once clear of the Channel she met with favourable
winds and (except in the Bay of Biscay) smooth seas, and so made a quick
run to the island of Saint Helena, where she anchored off James Town in
order to disembark her military passengers and replenish her fresh-water
tanks and sea stock. At Saint Helena Tom had the opportunity of
enjoying a run ashore and of visiting the empty tomb of the great
Napoleon Buonaparte, whose remains had recently been removed from
beneath the weeping-willows in Slane's Valley (whither, nineteen years
before, they had been carried by the grenadiers of the 66th Regiment) to
their honoured resting-place within the walls of the Invalides.
But the _Surat Castle_ remained at anchor only a short time, for as soon
as the soldiers were clear of the ship, and the fresh provisions and
water had been taken on board, Captain Ladds put to sea and shaped his
course for Table Bay.
On the sixth evening after the barque left Saint Helena there was every
indication of a change for the worse in the weather; away to the
north-east the clouds were thick and threatening at sundown, and Captain
Ladds, judging that a heavy gale lay behind them, ordered sail to be
reduced. The breeze stiffening into a gale, everything was made snug
for the night; the top-gallant masts and yards sent down,
preventer-braces rove, the hatches battened down, and dead-lights
shipped--preparations which bespoke no good tidings to the passengers;
many of whom retired to their berths at a much earlier hour than usual.
Nor did these preparations prove unnecessary, for gradually the wind
increased until it blew with almost hurricane force, and before long the
_Surat Castle_ was scudding under bare poles, not a stitch of canvas
showing, her storm-sails having been blown from their bolt-ropes or
split into ribands.
The storm raged throughout the long hours of the night with undiminished
fury, the lightning darting forth from the dark clouds illumined the
whole firmament, and the thunder rolled continuously; whilst the sea,
running mountains high, threatened every instant to engulf the gallant
barque.
Tom Flinders had remained on deck, not caring to go to his cabin. This
was the first big storm he had experienced, and he stood watching the
gigantic and angry billows with mingled interest and awe.
"You had much better go below and turn in, my boy," said Captain Ladds
kindly, as a huge wave "pooped" the barque, and, sweeping along the
deck, drenched Tom to the skin. "We have not had the worst of it yet, I
can assure you. You might get washed overboard like poor Jennings was
just now."
"What! the bos'un?" exclaimed Tom, who was clinging to the brass
handrail of the companion. "I _am_ sorry to hear that! Do you think
there's much danger, Captain Ladds?" he added. "If so, I'd rather stop
on deck--that is if you don't object. I shouldn't like to be drowned
like a rat in a hole!"
Before the captain could reply to his young friend's question a
tremendous squall, with a shift of the wind, struck the barque, and
immediately afterwards another heavy sea broke over her weather quarter,
causing her to shiver from stem to stern. The half-doors of the
companion burst open, and poor Tom, losing his grasp of the handrail,
shot down the ladder head foremost, whilst it was only by a supreme
effort that Captain Ladds saved himself from a similar mishap.
"The boy must have broken his neck!" was the captain's anxious
exclamation when he recovered himself. "Below there!" he continued,
raising his voice and peering down the hatch. "Steward! Jackson, see
to Mr Flind--oh, there you are, Tom! Are you much hurt?"
"Made my nose bleed, that's all," Tom replied, picking himself up. "I
landed on a heap of blankets and was then pitched against the
pantry-door. All the same I sha'n't come on deck again; I think I had
better turn in."
"I think so too," was the rejoinder. "A pretty figure you'll cut
to-morrow morning! Good night!"
"Good night, captain!" replied Tom, mopping away at his nose; and off he
staggered to his berth.
It blew "great guns" for the next fifty-six hours, and the unfortunate
passengers--Tom Flinders included--were reduced to a state of misery
pitiable to behold. One and all were frightfully ill, and the steward
and his assistant were run off their legs, and could no longer attend to
their duties. The cabin now presented a scene of confusion and disorder
that contrasted woefully with its usual comfortable appearance; the
floor was strewn with the debris of the breakfast and dinner services--
shattered plates and dishes, cups and saucers, glasses and decanters,
whilst the piano had fetched away from the ring-bolts and lay on its
"beam ends" with its front stove in.
At length the weather began to moderate, the heavy storm-laden clouds
rolled away, and on the fourth night of the gale the stars shone out
bright and clear. The wind continued to slacken, and the sea to go
down, until dawn of day, when the sun rose once more in all his wonted
splendour, and the sky was blue and cloudless.
At noon Captain Ladds and his chief mate brought out their quadrants and
took an observation, when it was found that the storm had driven the
barque far out of her course; much further indeed than the captain had
thought. However, there was no help for it, the lost ground must be
recovered, so all hands set to work to repair damages, and after many
hours' arduous toil through the night the _Surat Castle_ had once more a
taut ship-shape appearance, and was running before a favourable breeze
which most opportunely sprang up in the morning.
And now by twos and threes the passengers appeared on deck to breathe
again the invigorating sea air. Very pale and woebegone did those
helpless mortals look, and listless was the manner in which they lolled
about, until they were suddenly startled into a semblance of life and
action by the unexpected cry:
"Land! land on the port bow!"