Captain Penrose was very well pleased when he heard of the arrangements
the seamen had made with regard to little Billy. More than once,
however, he spoke to Dr Macbride and some of his officers about him in
whom he had most confidence.
"As you know," he remarked, "I am now childless, and have no kith or kin
depending on me; and if the boy turns out well, when old enough, I think
of getting him placed on the quarterdeck. The son of many a seaman
before the mast has risen to the top of his profession. My wife's
grandfather was a boatswain; my father-in-law, his son, was an Admiral
and a K.C.B. He won't have interest; but if he's a good seaman, and is
always on the watch to do his duty,--to run after it, not to let duty
come to him,--he'll get on well enough, depend on that."
The fleet of Sir George Rodney was now divided. While he despatched a
portion, under Josias Rowley, to reinforce Sir Peter Parker at Jamaica,
threatened by a powerful French squadron, he sailed with the greater
part of the remainder for New York. It must be remembered that the
American War of Independence was then going on, and that the French had
promised to aid the insurgent colonists.
The old _Terrible_ was still on the Jamaica station; but it was
understood that she would soon be sent to join the squadron off New
York. She and the gallant old _Thunderer_, 74, which had so long braved
the battle and the breeze, were together, the crews of both eagerly
looking out for an enemy.
There was an enemy approaching they little dreamed of. Cape Tiburon, at
the west end of the Island of Hispaniola, or San Domingo, the name by
which it is now better known, had been sighted the day before, so that
all knew well whereabouts they were. There was a perfect calm, and the
water was as smooth as the most polished glass--not a ripple was to be
seen on it; but yet it was not a plain, for huge undulations came
swelling up from the southern part of the Caribbean Sea, which made the
big ships roll till their lower yards almost dipped into the water.
Captain Walsingham and several of the officers of the _Thunderer_,
taking advantage of the calm, had come on board the _Terrible_ to visit
Captain Penrose and his officers. They were a merry party; they had
done their duty nobly, and they were anticipating opportunities of doing
it again, not to speak of gaining prize-money and promotion.
"Walsingham, my dear fellow," said Captain Penrose to his younger
brother Captain as they were taking a turn on the quarterdeck after
dinner, "I do not altogether like the look of the weather. I have, as
you know, been in these seas a good deal. These perfect calms are often
succeeded by sudden and violent storms, often by hurricanes; and though
we may have sea-room and stout craft, in such a commotion as I have more
than once witnessed, it will require all our seamanship to keep afloat."
"No fear," answered the younger Captain, smiling, "the _Thunderer_ is
not likely to fear the fiercest hurricane that ever blew;" and he looked
with all a true seaman's pride on the noble ship, which floated so
gallantly at the distance of a few hundred fathoms.
"At all events, take an old man's counsel," said Captain Penrose,
stopping in his walk. "I would not be so rude as unnecessarily to urge
you to leave my ship; but, my dear fellow, get on board as fast as you
can, and make her ready to encounter whatever may occur. If the
threatenings pass off, no harm is done. I must prepare the _Terrible_
for a gale."
Thus urged, the younger Captain could no longer decline to take the
proffered advice, but calling his officers, their boats were manned, and
they returned on board the _Thunderer_. In the meantime, everything
that could be done was done to prepare the _Terrible_ for a fierce
contest with the elements. Royal and topgallant-yards were sent down--
topmasts were struck, rolling tackles were made fast to all the lower
yards, and all the guns, and everything below that could move, were
secured. A thin mist pervaded the atmosphere; the heat grew excessive;
both sky and sea became the colour of lead; and an oppressive gloom hung
over the waste of waters. Still the wind did not stir, and even the
swell appeared to be going down. Hour after hour passed away.
"Our skipper is a good officer, there's no doubt about it," observed
some of the younger men as they walked the forecastle. "But he's
sometimes overmuch on the safe side, and if a moderate breeze were to
spring up, and an enemy appear in sight, she'd slip away long before we
could be in a fit state to go after her."
"You are very wise, mate, I daresay," said Abel Bush, who heard the
remark. "But just suppose the Captain is right and you wrong, how
should we look if the squall caught us with all our light sticks aloft
and our canvas spread? Old Harry Cane, when you meet with him in these
parts, is not a chap to be trifled with, let me tell you."
The younger seaman might have replied, but the force of Abel's argument
was considerably strengthened by a loud roaring sound which broke on
their ears. Far, too, as the eye could reach, the ocean appeared torn
up into a vast mass of foam, which rolled on with fearful rapidity,
preceded by still higher undulations than before, which made the ship
roll, and pitch, and tumble about in a way most unusual and alarming.
The officers, speaking trumpet in hand, were issuing the necessary
orders to try and get the ship's head away from the coming blast; but
the little wind there yet was refused to fill the head sails, and only
made them beat and flap against the masts.
"I told you so, mates," said Abel Bush as he passed Ned Marline, the
young seaman who had been criticising the Captain's arrangements; "never
do you fancy that you know better than your elders till you've had as
much experience as they."
Paul Pringle had been watching the _Thunderer_. He had served on board
her; he had many old shipmates now belonging to her; and he naturally
took a deep interest in all concerning her.
"She's a fine old ship, that she is!" he exclaimed as he cast a last
glance at the gallant seventy-four, before turning to attend to his
duty.
She was then not a quarter of a mile to leeward. Now down came the fury
of the hurricane; with a roar like that of a wild beast when it springs
on its prey, the tempest struck the _Terrible_. The headsails, which
alone were set, in an instant were blown from the boltropes, and flew
like fleecy clouds far away down to leeward. The helm was put up, but
the ship refused to answer it. The tempest struck her on the side. The
stout masts bent and quivered in spite of all the shrouds and stays
which supported them, and then over she heeled, till the yardarms
touched the seething ocean. Fore and aft she was covered with a mass of
foam, while the waters rushed exultantly into her ports, threatening to
carry her instantly to the bottom. The crew hurried to secure the
ports. Many poor fellows were carried off while making the attempt. In
vain Captain Penrose and his officers exerted themselves to wear the
ship. Like a helpless log she lay on the foaming ocean. While still
hoping to avoid the last extreme resource of cutting away the masts, the
carpenter appeared on the quarterdeck with an expression of
consternation on his countenance.
"What has happened below, Chips?" asked Captain Penrose.
"Twelve feet water in the hold, and rapidly gaining on us," was the
answer.
"It is probably the water which has got in through the ports; but man
the pumps: we must get it out again as fast as we can," answered the
Captain.
"They'll not work while the ship is in this position, sir," said the
carpenter.
"Oh, well, then, we must get her out of it!" cried Captain Penrose in a
cheerful voice, though his heart was heavy. "All hands stand by to cut
away the masts."
The order was repeated from mouth to mouth, for no voice could have been
heard along the deck. The carpenter once more went below to sound the
well. He shortly returned with even a worse report than the first. The
order was therefore given to cut away the masts. He sprang to his post
at the mizen-mast, which was to go first; but, just as he was about to
cut, the ship righted with a sudden jerk, which well-nigh sent everybody
off his legs. All believed that the dreaded resource would not be
required, but still the helm was useless, and therefore the ship could
not be got before the wind. Not a minute had passed before she was once
more struck on the opposite side with a still more furious blast of the
hurricane. Over the big ship heeled to it, till first the foremast went
by the head, carrying all the topmast rigging over the bows; the
mainmast followed, going by the board, and the mizen-mast was quickly
dragged after it, the falling masts wounding and killing many of the
crew, and carrying several overboard. Not a moment, however, was lost,
before, led by the officers, all were engaged with axes and knives in
clearing the wreck. But now the seas leaped up furiously round the
labouring ship, tossing her huge hull wildly here and there, as if she
had been merely some small boat left helplessly to become their sport.
Now, for the first time, Paul Pringle and others bethought them of
looking for the _Thunderer_. So full of salt spray was the air that
they could scarcely make her out, near as she was to them; then on a
sudden they saw her dark hull surrounded by the seething foam, but her
stout masts were not visible. She, as they had been, was on her
beam-ends. Suddenly she, too, righted; up rose the masts, in all their
height and symmetry it seemed.
"She has come off scatheless!" cried one or two.
"No, no, mates!" cried Paul Pringle in a tone of anguish. "See! see!
heaven have mercy on their souls!"
Down, down, sank the big hull; gradually tier after tier disappeared;
the foaming waters leaped over the decks--the tall masts followed--
down--down--down--and in another instant the spot where the brave old
_Thunderer_ had floated was vacant, and seven hundred human beings were
hurried at once into eternity. In vain could the crew of the _Terrible_
hope to render them assistance--the same fate at any moment might be
theirs. No one had even time to mourn the loss of their countrymen and
friends. Every nerve must be strained to keep their own ship afloat.
Still the water rushed in.
The opinion became general that a butt had been started, (that is, the
end of a plank), and that the ship must go down. Even Captain Penrose
could no longer conceal from himself that such was too probably the
case. He, however, and his officers exerted themselves to the utmost to
maintain discipline--no easy task under such circumstances in those
days, when men who had braved death over and over again in battle with
the greatest coolness and intrepidity, have been known to break open the
spirit stores with the object of stupefying their minds with liquor to
avoid facing the king of terrors.
Fiercer and fiercer raged the hurricane, and now all hopes of saving the
ship, or of preserving their own lives, were almost abandoned. Paul
Pringle, with Abel Bush and Peter Ogle, were seen to be very busy. They
were collecting such shattered spars and small ropes, and casks and
other articles, as they could most easily lay hands on. These they
quickly converted into a small but very strong raft, with a sort of
bulwark all round it. In one of the casks they stowed a keg of water,
and some biscuits and beef; and in another they stuffed the bedding of a
hammock and some blankets; and they stepped a mast on the little raft,
and secured a flag to it. The raft might, probably, have borne four or
five men, but there was only sitting room for one just alongside the
cask which had the bedding in it. When all was ready, Paul Pringle
disappeared into the Captain's cabin, and returned carrying in his arms
Billy True Blue, followed by Sam Smatch, who had his fiddle and bow
tucked under his arm.
"Now, Sam," said Paul, pointing to the raft, "you see that. You didn't
enter to do a seaman's duty; so you, if any one ought, may quit the
ship. Now, you see, none on us knows what moment she may be going down;
and so, Sam, just jump into this raft and make yourself fast, so that no
sea can wash you off, and take Billy True Blue with you. Though he's on
the ship's books, he isn't entered to do duty; so he may quit her
without any shame or disgrace, d'ye see. Bear a hand now, Sam."
The black did as he was bid; and having secured his beloved fiddle in
one of the casks, held out his arms to receive little True Blue. Paul
for some instants could not bring himself to part with the child. He
pressed his lips to its little mouth as a fond mother might do; and then
Peter and Abel followed his example with no less signs of affection; but
a cry which ascended from below, that the ship was settling down fast,
hurried their proceedings.
"There, Sam, take him," said Paul with a tone of deep feeling, giving up
the child to the black. "Watch over him, Sam, for he's a jewel, mind
that. You may be driven ashore on that island out there, and as you
know the lingo of the people, you may do bravely among them. Your
fiddle will stand you in good stead wherever you go, and you may play
them into good humour. But mind you, Sam, as soon as you can, you are
to get to a British port, and to go aboard a man-of-war, and say who the
boy is, and what he is, and how he's to be brought up; and try and find
out any old shipmates of mine, or Peter's, or Abel's, or the Captain's--
for I know he'll join us--and say that it was our last dying message,
just before the waters closed over us, that they would stand in our
shoes and look after the boy. We trust you, Sam. You loves the boy. I
knows you do. You'll be faithful, lad?"
"Yes, Paul; so help me, I will," answered Sam with much feeling,
pressing his shipmate's hand held out to him.
"Stay," said Paul suddenly, "you shall not go alone, Sam. There's
another who loves little True Blue, and as he's one of the youngest in
the ship, no one will complain that he has a chance of his life given
him. It's Natty Garland. Has any one seen Natty Garland?"
The young midshipman was nowhere to be found. The Captain highly
approved of Paul's proposals, and men hurried off in every direction to
look for the lad.
The Captain retired to his cabin to write a hasty despatch, describing
the condition of his ship. He expected that it would be the last he
should ever indite. "I will entrust this with the young boy," he said
to himself. "I am sure the explanations it will give will exonerate me
for the loss of the ship."
When he returned on deck, the midshipman had not been found. The
Captain was about to give his despatch to Sam, when two men returned,
bringing young Garland with them. They found him between two of the
guns on the middle deck almost stunned from a fall. Had they not
arrived when they did, he very likely would have been washed through a
port and drowned. He soon recovered in the air, and was told what was
proposed.
"To leave the ship while others stay?" he exclaimed. "No, no. I am an
officer, and it is my duty to stick by the ship to the last."
"Right, Garland," said the Captain, taking his hand warmly. "But I do
not propose that you should leave the ship till she will no longer
float; and then I have to entrust you with a despatch, which you must
deliver to the Admiral, and explain how the ship was lost."
"I will obey your orders, sir," cried the boy, bursting into tears; "but
I would rather stick to the ship like the rest and go down in her, if go
she must."
"Maybe the ship won't go down, though," said Sam.
As Sam spoke, the fury of the hurricane seemed slightly to decrease.
The Captain and officers again felt some hopes of saving the ship, by
heaving overboard the upper deck guns which could be most easily got at.
It was a desperate resource, as the ship would thus be left utterly
helpless and a prey to the meanest enemy; still it was better than
allowing her to go to the bottom. As she rolled, now one gun, now
another, was cast loose, run out, and let slip through the ports. It
was difficult work, for one gun slipping on board and getting loose
might create the most desperate havoc and confusion. Several guns had
been sent plunging into the ocean, when the Captain gave the order to
hold fast. Suddenly, as the hurricane began, it ceased. The ship
rolled and tumbled about as violently as ever, having no masts to steady
her; but some minutes passed and she had not sunk lower in the water;
her pumps were got to work steadily; all hands which could be spared
were sent with buckets to the lower-deck to bale away; and though at
first the impression they made did not appear on so large a bulk of
water, it was soon evident they assisted the pumps in gaining on the
leaks.
No one, with but one exception, was idle. Everybody was straining every
nerve to keep the ship afloat, and to clear her of the wreck of her
masts. The only exception was Sam Smatch. Not aware that the state of
affairs had much improved, he sat, as ordered, on the raft, holding
little True Blue, and expecting every moment to feel the ship sinking
from under him.
Bravely and energetically the men laboured on. Once more the ship
floated nearly at her usual level; but the continued clank of the pumps
showed that it was only while they were kept going constantly that she
would do so. The hurricane, with loud mutterings in the distance, died
away, and the jury-masts being got up, a light wind from the eastward
enabled a course to be steered for Jamaica. Paul had come and released
Sam, and sent him with the child into the cabin.
"Gentlemen," said the Captain to his officers assembled round him, "a
merciful Providence has preserved our lives. Every man has done his
duty; but let us not boast that it is owing to our own strength or
exertions that our ship is still afloat. Our fate might have been that
which I fear has overtaken the _Thunderer_. Alas! we shall have a sad
account to give of her." Captain Penrose surmised too truly what had
happened. Neither the _Thunderer_ nor a single man of her crew was ever
heard of again.