A TERRIBLE POSITION--A PROPHETIC VISION--SINKING!
When I had rubbed my eyes, and began to take in the surroundings, I
felt drenched by the rain and sea. My hands were sticky, and cold and
damp. My clothes clung to my limbs, which were stiff under me. My
straw hat, with the ribbon of which I had been so proud--a yacht-club
ribbon--was sopped, out of shape, and off-colour like my drenched face.
The squall was still passing, but the thunder had ceased.
The sea was very lively, and the wind boisterous. We were running
close-hauled and fast, dipping and slapping; the mainsail stretched
stiffly over the boat, reefed still, and the jib was as taut as a
board. Daddy, I thought, was steering splendidly in such a sea, but I
at once perceived that the cliffs had sunk deep into the water behind
us, and that the line of the horizon was continually broken with the
rolling waves. A change, indeed, and in a few moments! A great change!
I sat up, feeling a peculiar sensation of dizziness, and a
breathlessness, a desire to gasp for breath--a taste, moreover, of
something unpleasant, almost sulphurous, but not of sulphur. Something
had happened! I looked around me; astern I saw Tim gripping the sheet
in one hand, the tiller in the other, and dragging at the sail, half in
the boat, half out.
"What's the matter, Tim? Is the skipper asleep?"
I often called Murry the "skipper" for fun, as he called me his "young
gentleman," meaning midshipman.
Tim made no reply. Perhaps my voice had not reached him, so I shouted
at him--
"Tim, ahoy! Whither bound? What ship's this, anyhow?"
"The Dead-ship," replied the young sailor. "Come aft, if ye can, and
bear a hand. I can't manage the sail and steer this way."
Feeling alarmed, I scrambled up, and in an instant I saw that some
fearful accident had occurred. The mainsail was lying half in and half
out of the boat, dipping and lashing the waves, and bringing the
_Osprey_ down by the quarter and stern, deeply. No wonder I felt
drenched, no wonder the boat was uneasy; and Tim had need of all his
nerve and skill to keep his course.
I clambered astern and hauled in the sail which had come down full,
with the gaff, upon the stern-sheets, and nearly swamped us. I
recollected the cry I had heard. What had happened?
My cheerfulness was quenched in a second. I was face to face with
death for the first time! I could not credit it!
Yet I knew it I could see nothing but the sail, the blackened spar, the
tangled ropes, the mainsheet still gripped in Tim's hand, held, too, I
fancied, _by another hand--the hand of his dead father_!
This impression suddenly seized me, and the idea burned into my brain
like a dart--a hot nerve-thrill. Murry had been struck by that fearful
flash, and I must have been laid out senseless. The peculiar feeling
and sensation caused by the "electric fluid" I still remember, and do
not wish to experience them again.
I felt afraid as I seated myself silently and with carefulness beside
Tim. I questioned him with a look; he replied with a nod. Neither of
us made an attempt to speak. He kept the boat's head close to the wind
as possible, but we drifted out farther and farther all the time. We
had no grapnel, and had we shipped an anchor we had not line to hold
the boat there. All Tim could do was to keep up until a fishing-smack
or some other craft could assist us.
Meantime we hauled the sail in board, and then, having lashed the
tiller, we managed to roll it up and get it away from the body, which
lay in the small, sunk, stern-sheets, still half supported. Murry was
dead! My heart thumped in my throat, and a horrible feeling of
hysteria attacked me. I suddenly burst out crying, and then sniggered
in shame amid sobs.
"That's how mother was took," said Tim at length. "Can't we carry him
in to the cabin place, think ye?"
I nodded assent. With great difficulty we managed to place the fine
old man upon the lockers; the rolling and jumping of the boat was
excessive, and imparted a weird movement to the body of the sailor.
He lay perfectly uninjured to all appearance. There was a blue mark on
his neck, and his jersey had been split. Those were the only signs of
dissolution. Poor Murry! He was a fine hearty sailor, and I am sure
all his mates missed him for many a day.
This terrible incident affected us both deeply. Tim said a few words
only, but I could perceive that he was feeling deeply, though his
training and habit did not tend to sentiment. My intention was to get
back as quickly as possible, and I said so. Let us get home!
"Whatever course are you steering, Tim?" I asked. "We're making _out_,
not home."
"We shall never get home unless by land--unless we run ashore," replied
Tim grimly. "She's leakin' like old boots."
"Leaking! What do you mean?" I asked in alarm.
"I means leakin', that's plain enough, I think. She's takin' the sea
in fine, and I dessay in a few hours we'll see her beached."
"Where?" I asked quickly. "You're keeping off shore now."
"Can't land under these cliffs, anyhow. We must bail and run soon.
That's our only chance I take it, Mister Jule. 'Spose you looks and
bails; there's a dipper there. See to the well. Come, we'll lash the
tiller, and she'll lie up a while in the wind if the mainsel catches
her astern."
"But surely we can get ashore well enough. There are several vessels
yonder; let us run out and board one."
"And be swamped likely. No, sir; let's weather the point and then we
may get in on the eddy a bit. See here, we're driftin' now; we can't
signal, the weather's thick a'ready, and likely as not a fog will come
up to-night. There's bad weather about now. So let's try for the leak
anyhow, and fix it."
We made an investigation which occupied some little time. We found the
vessel was leaking, not badly; and if we could set the mainsail we
could sail fairly well. The wind was unfortunately rising fast, and
the day had completely changed.
I was surprised to find that time had passed so rapidly; it was three
o'clock already. We were some miles out then, and still drifting out.
We determined to repair the gaff as a preliminary, so Tim set to work,
and I assisted him as much as I could. That was not much, however, and
all the time the day declined, the sea rose, the wind increased, and
the _Osprey_ jumped so that our efforts were not quickly successful.
"I say, Tim, can't we rig up the sail on the stump, and let her drive?
We shall surely run against something bound homewards, or to London, or
somewhere, and get ashore."
"I'm thinkin' we must chance it! The drift is dashing up too thick,
and I'm feelin' like tea-time. Tell ye the truth, Mister Jule, I ain't
the spirit for this. Think o' father there! How can we go back with
that story? I'm gettin' 'down' over it."
"Oh, I say, Tim, none of that, please! Cheer up! we mustn't say die,
you know. We have had a bad time, I know that, but we can't alter the
_facts_. It's Providence, you know."
"Ye didn't say that this mornin' when you was savage about your
eyesight," retorted Tim. "There was no 'Providence' in that. It was
bad words and hanging people then."
"I was savage then, I know, and sick of things. But 'there's worse
things happen at sea,' remember; and this is the worst I ever knew.
Besides, it's a matter of self-defence and preservation, Tim. So let
her drive; we'll be picked up certain. Let's do our best!"
"Very well, sir; you're master! Only, just see the weather! If we
gets out yonder we'll never get back!"
"And if we lie here dipping and leaking we shall get nowhere! We can't
hoist the sail, can we? No; well, then, loose the jib-sheet and drive
out, there's plenty of steamers in the offing. I don't want to go home
in such a hurry, and if it was not for"--
I stopped suddenly, my eyes had rested upon the outline of the poor old
skipper's form, covered with the tarpaulin, amidships.
"Beg your pardon, Tim; do as you think best. I'll say no more. Let us
lay to as you say, and try it."
There was a pause for a few moments. The spin-drift drenched us anew.
"Mister Jule," said he,--Jule being, of course, short for Julius,--"I
think I understand ye. But, sir, you're the 'boss,' and arter all, the
old dad--he can't hurt. He's 'done his bit,' and done it well! We'm
alive-like, and we mustn't give in, must us? No, sir; we'll trim the
boat, and run into the sea-way, and take what the Lord sends us. What
d'ye say?"
"Done with you, Tim! Here's my hand on it. We'll sink or swim
together. Is that right?"
"Yes, sir; that's hearty! I rather thinks it's sink more than swim.
What you says I dessay's right; we may sink, and lay-to that way.
Let's drive!"
"Ay, indeed! I am inclined to make a run for it, and _do_ something."
Before I had finished speaking this _ultimatum_ Tim had loosed the
jib-sheet, and I shifted the helm a bit. The wind was lashing us then
across Channel; the afternoon was glooming, the sun had disappeared to
our starboard beam, and the sea became higher as the tide turned and
carried us away from the "dirty cliffs."
"We shall smile at our fears to-morrow," I said, in an effort to be
cheerful which my heart did not respond to.
Tim Murry made no reply, and we still ran seaward silently. Then I
suddenly became dreamy--listless. I did not realise the circumstances,
the sea seemed rocking me to sleep. Tim approached and looked at me,
took the tiller from me, and I fell into a calm dream of home. I
remember it well even now. The whole dream was for me a reality. My
stepfather was looking at me, while I appeared to be on board a large
ship like a man-of-war. Guns were mounted fore and aft, a number of
men were running about, there was some great excitement. Yet I was not
on the large vessel long; I was on a steamship next. The large
man-of-war attacked us, I could not say how, and the ship I was in sank
with a roar of steam and whistling and--
"Rouse up, sir, look alive! Steamer close aboard of us. She's
whistling; she's seen us. I waved to her. Now we must leave this
sinking boat."
I started up. The evening had fallen. The _Osprey_ was half full of
water. I had been dreaming of sinking--the reality was very near.
"Let us shout," I cried. "Say we're sinking, Tim."
"That's no lie, Mister Jule. The steamer sees us right enough. Will
she be in time?"
"What a time she takes," I muttered. "Somehow I can't believe it all.
Is it _really_ true, Tim?"
"Rather!" replied Tim. "There's the boat launched! Don't you believe
the water's up to your boots now? Look at it!"
I suppose I was still half asleep. I gazed at the swishing sea, and
had no fear.
"All right, I can swim! You said we wouldn't, Tim!"
"You're nearer sinkin'," he answered. "Dad will never see the home
again, arter all. Well, well, it's the Lord's will, that it is."
It was a sad and painful ending to a boating excursion. But at least
we were saved, and going home. How delightful it would be to see
mother again, to tell her all my adventures, to confess my temper, and
to try to do all she had told me to please Mr. Bentham. Yes, I made up
my mind to behave well, and give up the sea--if I must.
"Step in youngster," said someone.
My reverie had been suddenly cut short. I looked up, the steamer's
boat was alongside.
"Just in the nick," remarked the officer. "How did you lads get into
this pickle o' fish? Lucky we sighted you."
"Yes," I responded in a sleepy voice. "Is Tim there?"
"Aye, I'm here," he said.
"And your father's--body?" I asked. "Bring him out, please."
"What?" exclaimed the steersman. "A body--a dead body! Not for us.
Push off, lads."
"You won't take it?" I cried. "Won't you bring it ashore?"
"No time to go ashore, youngster! There, you see, just in time!
See!--she's sinking!"
I looked. The _Osprey_ began to lurch and dip as the men pulled away.
I stared in dread suspense, half dead, I fancied. Then we increased
our distance. The _Osprey_ lifted and fell, appeared again,
disappeared; rose again, and just when one expected to see it once more
the sea hid it and bore it out of sight for ever.
I think I shouted; I know I leaped up in haste, but a firm hand was
placed upon my collar, and I sank back unconscious of all around me
save the darkness of sea and sky. My senses left me!
So Murry had gained a sailor's grave. "There in the lone, lone sea--in
a spot unmarked but holy," he lies at rest until the last call for "all
hands" is piped.