A VOYAGE IN A COFFIN SHIP.
The early part of the voyage of the _Black Eagle_ was extremely
fortunate. The wind came round to the eastward, and wafted them
steadily down Channel, until on the third day they saw the Isle of
Ushant lying low upon the sky-line. No inquisitive gunboat or lurking
police launch came within sight of them, though whenever any vessel's
course brought her in their direction the heart of Ezra Girdlestone sank
within him. On one occasion a small brig signalled to them, and the
wretched fugitives, when they saw the flags run up, thought that all was
lost. It proved, however, to be merely some trivial message, and the
two owners breathed again.
The wind fell away on the day that they cleared the Channel, and the
whole surface of the sea was like a great expanse of quicksilver, which
shimmered in the rays of the wintry sun. There was still a considerable
swell after the recent gale, and the _Black Eagle_ lay rolling about as
though she had learned habits of inebriation from her skipper. The sky
was very clear above, but all round the horizon a low haze lay upon the
water. So silent was it that the creaking of the boats as they swung
at the davits, and the straining of the shrouds as the ship rolled,
sounded loud and clear, as did the raucous cries of a couple of gulls
which hovered round the poop. Every now and then a rumbling noise
ending in a thud down below showed that the swing of the ship had caused
something to come down with a run. Underlying all other sounds,
however, was a muffled clank, clank, which might almost make one forget
that this was a sailing ship, it sounded so like the chipping of a
propeller.
"What is that noise, Captain Miggs?" asked John Girdlestone as he stood
leaning over the quarter rail, while the old sea-dog, sextant in hand,
was taking his midday observations. The captain had been on his good
behaviour since the unexpected advent of his employers, and he was now
in a wonderful and unprecedented state of sobriety.
"Them's the pumps a-goin'," Miggs answered, packing his sextant away in
its case.
"The pumps! I thought they were only used when a ship was in danger?"
Ezra came along the deck at this moment, and listened with interest to
the conversation.
"This ship is in danger," Miggs remarked calmly.
"In danger!" cried Ezra, looking round the clear sky and placid sea.
"Where is the danger? I did not think you were such an old woman,
Miggs."
"We will see about that," the seaman answered angrily. "If a ship's got
no bottom in her she's bound to be in danger, be the weather fair or
foul."
"Do you mean to tell me this ship has no bottom?"
"I mean to tell you that there are places where you could put your
fingers through her seams. It's only the pumpin' that keeps her
afloat."
"This is a pretty state of things," said Girdlestone. "How is it that I
have not been informed of it before! It is most dangerous."
"Informed!" cried Miggs. "Informed of it! Has there been a v'yage yet
that I haven't come to ye, Muster Girdlestone, and told ye I was
surprised ever to find myself back in Lunnon? A year agone I told ye
how this ship was, and ye laughed at me, ye did. It's only when ye find
yourselves on her in the middle o' the broad sea that ye understan' what
it is that sailor folk have to put up wi'."
Girdlestone was about to make some angry reply to this address, but his
son put his hand on his arm to restrain him. It would never do to
quarrel with Hamilton Miggs before they reached their port of refuge.
They were too completely in his power.
"What the captain says has a great deal of truth in it," he remarked,
with a laugh. "You don't realize a thing until you've had to experience
it. The _Black Eagle_ shall certainly have an overhauling next time,
and we'll see if we can't give her captain an increase at the same
time."
Miggs gave a grunt which might be taken as expressing thanks or as
signifying doubt. Perhaps there was a mixture of both in his mind.
"I presume," Girdlestone said, in a conciliatory voice, "that there
would be no real danger as long as the weather was fine?"
"It won't be fine long," the captain answered gruffly. "The glass was
well under thirty when I come up, and it is fallin' fast. I've been
about here before at this time o' year in a calm, with a ground swell
and a sinkin' glass. No good ever came of it. Look there at the
norrard. What d'ye make o' that, Sandy?"
"In conjunction wi' the descending glass, it has an ominous appairance,"
the Scotchman answered, with much stress on the first syllable of the
adjective.
The phenomenon which had attracted their professional attention did not
appear to either of the Girdlestones to be a very important one.
The haze on the horizon to the north was rather thicker than elsewhere,
and a few thin streaky clouds straggled upwards across the clear cold
heaven, like the feelers of some giant octopus which lay behind the fog
bank. At the same time the sea changed in places from the appearance of
quicksilver to that of grained glass.
"There's the wind," Miggs said confidently. "I'd furl the top-gallant
sails and get her stay-sails down, Mr. McPherson." Whenever he gave an
order he was careful to give the mate his full title, though at other
times he called him indiscriminately Sandy or Mac.
The mate gave the necessary commands, while Miggs dived down into the
cabin. He came up again looking even graver than when he left the deck.
"The glass is nearly down to twenty-eight," he said. "I never seed it
as low since I've been at sea. Take in the mains'l, Mr. McPherson, and
have the topsails reefed down!"
"Ay, ay, sir."
There was no lack of noise now as the men hauled at the halliards with
their shrill strange cries, which sounded like the piping of innumerable
sea-birds. Half a dozen lay out on the yard above, tucking away the
great sail and making all snug.
"Take a reef in the fores'l!" the mate roared, "and look alive about
it!"
"Hurry up, ye swabs!" Miggs bellowed. "You'll be blown away, every
mother's son of ye, if you don't stir yourselves!"
Even the two landsmen could see now that the danger was no imaginary
one, and that a storm was about to burst over them. The long black
lines of vapour had lengthened and coalesced, until now the whole
northern heaven was one great rolling black cloud, with an angry, ragged
fringe which bespoke the violence of the wind that drove it. Here and
there against the deep black background a small whitish or
sulphur-coloured wreath stood clearly out, looking livid and dangerous.
The whole great mass was sweeping onwards with prodigious and majestic
rapidity, darkening the ocean beneath it, and emitting a dull, moaning,
muttering sound, which was indescribably menacing and mournful.
"This may be the same gale as was on some days ago," Miggs remarked.
"They travel in circles very often, and come back to where they start
from."
"We are all snug aloft, but this ship won't stand much knocking about,
an' that's a fact," observed the mate gloomily.
It was blowing now in short frequent puffs, which ruffled the surface of
the water, and caused the _Black Eagle_ to surge slowly forward over the
rollers. A few drops of rain came pattering down upon the deck.
The great bank of cloud was above the ship, still hurrying wildly across
the heavens.
"Look out!" cried an old quartermaster. "Here she comes!"
As he spoke the storm burst with a shriek, as though all the demons of
the air had been suddenly unchained and were rejoicing in their freedom.
The force of the blast was so great that Girdlestone could almost have
believed that he had been struck by some solid object. The barque
heeled over until her lee rail touched the water, and lay so for a
minute or more in a smother of foam. Her deck was at such an angle that
it seemed as though she never could right herself. Gradually, however,
she rose a little, staggered and trembled like a living thing, and then
plunged away through the storm, as a piece of paper is whirled before
the wind.
By evening the gale was at its height. The _Black Eagle_ was running
under maintopsail and foretopmast staysail. The sea had risen very
quickly, as it will when wind comes upon a swell. As far as the eye
could see from the summit of a wave there was a vista of dark towering
ridges with their threatening crests of foam. When the barque sank in
the hollow these gleaming summits rose as high as her mainyard, and the
two fugitives, clinging to the weather-shrouds, looked up in terror and
amazement at the masses of water which hung above them. Once or twice
waves actually broke over the vessel, crashing and roaring down the
deck, and washing hither and thither until gradually absorbed between
the planks or drained away through the scupper-holes. On each of these
occasions the poor rotten vessel would lurch and shiver in every plank,
as if with a foreknowledge of her fate.
It was a dreary night for all on board. As long as there was light they
could at least see what danger was to be faced, but now the barque was
plunging and tossing through an inky obscurity. With a wild scooping
motion she was hurled up on the summit of a great wave, and thence she
shot down into the black gulf beyond with such force that when checked
by meeting the next billow her whole fabric jarred from truck to
keelson. There were two seamen at the wheel and two at the relieving
tackles, yet it was all that they could do among the wild commotion to
keep her steady.
No one thought of going below. It was better to see and know the worst
than to be shut up in a coffin where one could not stretch out a hand to
help one's self. Once Captain Hamilton Miggs clawed his way along the
rail to where the Girdlestones were standing.
"Look there!" he roared, pointing to windward.
It was difficult to turn one's face straight to the wild rush of wind
and spray and hail. Shading their eyes, they peered into the storm.
Right in the heart of it, and apparently not more than a couple of
hundred yards from the barque, was a lurid glare of ruddy light, rising
and falling with the sea, but advancing rapidly through it. There was a
bright central glowing spot, with smaller lights glimmering above and
beside it. The effect of the single glare of light against the inky
darkness of the sea and sky would have made a study for a Turner.
"What's that?"
"It's a steamer," the captain shouted. It was only by great exertions
that he could make himself audible above the shrieking of the wind and
the dash of the waves.
"What do you think of it all?" Ezra asked.
"Very bad," Miggs answered. "Couldn't be worse;" and with that he
clawed his way aft again, grasping every stanchion or shroud on his way,
like a parroquet in a cage.
The clouds above broke somewhat towards morning, but there was no sign
of abatement in the tempest. Here and there through the rifts the
glimmer of the stars might be seen, and once the pale moon gleamed
through the storm wreath. The dawn broke cheerless and dreary,
disclosing the great turmoil of endless slate-coloured waves and the
solitary little barque, with her rag of canvas, like a broken-winged
seabird, staggering to the south.
Even the Girdlestones had noticed that, whereas towards the commencement
of the storm it had been a rare occurrence for a wave to break over the
ship, the decks were now continually knee-deep in water, and there was a
constant splashing and crashing as the seas curled over the weather
bulwark. Miggs had already observed it, and conferred gravely with his
mate on the point.
"I don't like the looks of her, Mac," he shouted. "She don't rise to
them."
"She's near water-logged, I'm thinkin'," the mate responded gravely.
He knew the danger, and his thoughts were wandering away to a little
slate-tiled cottage near Peterhead. It is true that there was not much
in it save a wife, who was said to give Sandy the rough side of her
tongue, and occasionally something rougher still. Affection is a
capricious emotion, however, and will cling to the most unlikely
objects; so the big Scotchman's eyes were damp with something else
beside the sea spray as he realized that he might never look upon
cottage or occupant again.
"No wonder," said Miggs, "when she's takin' in water above and below
too. The men are weary wi' pumpin', and it still gains."
"I doot it's our last v'yage thgither," the mate remarked, his Scottish
accent waxing broader under the influence of emotion.
"What d'ye say to heavin' her to?"
"I'd let her run on. She would na rise tae the waves, I'm fearin'.
We canna be vera fa' frae the Spanish coast, accordin' to my
surmisation. That wud gie us a chance o' savin' oorsels, though I'm a
feared na boat would live in siccan a sea."
"You're right. We have a better chance so than if we let her ride.
She'd founder as sure as eggs are eggs. Damn it, Mac, I could almost be
glad this has happened now we've got them two aboard. We'll teach 'em
what coffin ships is like in a gale o' wind." The rough seaman laughed
hoarsely as he spoke.
The carpenter came aft at this moment, balancing himself as best he
could, for the deck was only a few degrees off the perpendicular.
"The leak is gaining fast," he said. "The hands are clean done up.
There's land on the port bow."
The mate and the captain peered out through the dense wrack and haze.
A great dark cliff loomed out upon the left, jagged, inhospitable, and
menacing.
"We'd best run towards it," the mate said. "We've na chance o' saving
the ship, but we might run her ashore."
"The ship will go down before you reach it," the carpenter remarked
gloomily.
"Keep your heart up!" Miggs shouted, and then crawled along to the
Girdlestones. "There is no hope for the ship but we may save
ourselves," he said. "You'll have to take your turn at the pumps."
They followed him forward without a word. The crew, listless and weary,
were grouped about the pumps. The feeble clanking sounded like the
ticking of a watch amid the horrible uproar which filled the air.
"Buckle to again, boys!" cried Miggs. "These two will help you and the
carpenter and mate."
Ezra and his father, the old man's grizzled locks flying wildly from his
head, seized the rope and worked with the crew, hardly able to retain
their foothold upon the slippery sloping decks. Miggs went down into
the cabin. His behaviour during the gale had been most exemplary, but
he recognized now that there was nothing more to be done, and, having
thrown off his public responsibilities, he renewed his private
peculiarities. He filled out nearly a tumblerful of raw rum and took it
off at a gulp. Then he began to sing and made his way on deck in a very
hilarious and reckless mood.
The vessel was still flying towards the rugged line of cliffs, which
were now visible along the whole horizon, the great projection on the
left being their culminating point. She was obviously sinking lower in
the water, and she plunged in a heavy, sulky manner through the waves,
instead of rising to them as she did before. The water was steadily
gaining in her interior, and it was clear that she would not float long.
The straining of the gale had increased the long-neglected rifts between
her timbers, and no amount of pumping could save her. On the other
hand, the sky had broken above them, and the wind was by no means so
violent as before. The sun broke through between two great hurrying
clouds, and turned all the waves to the brightest emerald green, with
sparkling snow-white crests of foam. This sudden change and the
brightness of the scene made their fate seem all the harder to the
seamen aboard the sinking vessel.
"The gale is clearin'," remarked McPherson. "If we'd had a ship that
wasna rotten to the hairt, like her owners, we'd ha pu'ed through."
"Right you are, old Sandy! But we're all goin' together, captain and
owners and the whole bilin'," yelled Miggs recklessly.
The mate looked at him half in surprise and half in contempt.
"You've been at the bottle," he said. "Eh mun, mun, if we are a'
drooned, as seems likely, it's an awfu' thing to appear before your
Maker wi' your meeserable soul a' steeped in drink."
"You go down and have a drink yourself," Miggs cried huskily.
"Na, na. If I am to dee, I'll dee sober."
"You'll die a fool," the skipper shouted wrathfully.
"Well, old preacher, you've brought us into a nice hole with your damned
insurance cheating, cheese-paring business. What d'ye think of it now,
when the ship's settlin' down under our feet, eh? Would you repair her
if you had her back in the Albert Dock, eh?"
This speech was addressed to the old merchant, who had ceased pumping,
and was leaning against the cuddy and looking up hopelessly at the long
line of brown cliffs which were now only half a mile away. They could
hear the roar of the surf, and saw the white breakers where the
Atlantic stormed in all its fury against nature's break-water.
"He's not fit to command," said Ezra to the mate. "What would you
advise?"
"We'll bring her round and lower the boats on the lee side. They may
live or no, but it's the only chance for us. Them twa boats will hold
us a' easy."
The ship was settling down in the water so fast that it was no difficult
matter to let the boats down. They only hung a few feet above the
surface. The majority of the crew got safely into the long boat, and
the Girdlestones, with Miggs and four seamen, occupied the gig. It was
no easy thing to prevent the boats from being stove, as the waves
alternately drove them from the ship's side or brought the two together
with a force which seemed irresistible. By skilful management, however,
they both succeeded in casting off and getting clear without accident.
It was only when they emerged from under the shelter of the vessel that
they felt the full power of the sea. If it had appeared stupendous when
they trod the deck of the barque, how much more so now, when, by leaning
the arm over the side, they could touch the surface. The great glassy
green billows hurled them up and down, and tossed them and buffeted them
as though the two boats were their playthings, and they were trying what
antics they could perform with them without destroying them.
Girdlestone sat very grim and pale, with Ezra at his side. The young
fellow's expression was that of a daring man who realizes his danger,
but is determined to throw no chance of safety away. His mouth was set
firm and hard, and his dark eyebrows were drawn down over his keen eyes,
which glanced swiftly to right and left, like a rat in a trap.
Miggs held the tiller, and laughed from time to time in a drunken
fashion, while the four seamen, quiet and subdued, steadied the boat as
long as they could with their oars, and looked occasionally over their
shoulders at the breakers behind them. The sun was shining on the
rugged precipices, showing out the green turf upon their summit and a
little dark group of peasants, who were watching the scene from above,
but making no effort to assist the castaways. There was no alternative
but to row straight in for the nearest point of land, for the boats were
filling, and might go down at any moment.
"The ship's gone!" Ezra said, as they rose on the summit of a wave.
When they came up again all looked round, but there was no sign of the
ill-fated _Black Eagle_.
"We'll all be gone when we get among the breakers," shouted Captain
Hamilton Miggs. "Pull, ye devils, pull! Beat the mate's boat. It's a
race, my lads, and the winnin' post is hell."
Ezra glanced at his father, and saw that his lips were moving
tremulously as they pattered forth prayers.
"Still at it!" he said, with a sneer.
"Making my peace," the old man said solemnly. "My faith is now indeed a
staff and a comfort. I look back at my long life, and though I humbly
confess that I have erred, and erred grievously, still in the main I
have walked straight. From my youth I have been frugal and industrious.
Oh, my boy, look with candid eyes into your own heart, and see if you
are fit to be called away."
"Look to your own beam," Ezra answered, keeping his eye upon the line of
boiling surf, which came nearer and nearer every moment. "How about
John Harston's daughter, eh?" Even at that awful hour Ezra felt a
sinister pleasure at observing the spasm which shot across his father's
face at the mention of his ward.
"If I sinned I sinned for a worthy purpose," he answered. "It was to
preserve my business. Its fall was a blow to righteousness and a
triumph to evil. Into Thy hands I commend my spirit!"
As he spoke a great wave hurled the boat in upon its broad bosom, and
flung it down upon the cruel jagged rocks, which bristled from the base
of the cliff. There was a horrible rending crash, and the stout keel
snapped asunder, while a second wave swept over it, tearing out the
struggling occupants and bearing them on, only to hurl them upon a
second ridge beyond. The peasants upon the cliff gave piteous cries of
grief and pity, which blended with the agonized groans and screams of
drowning men and the thunder of the pitiless surge. Looking down they
could see the black dots, which indicated the heads of the poor wretches
below, diminishing one by one as they were hurled upon the rocks or
dragged down by the under-current.
Ezra was a strong swimmer, but when he had shaken himself free of the
boat, and kicked away a seaman who clung to him, he made no attempt to
strike out. He knew that the waves would bear him quickly enough on to
the rocks, and he reserved himself for the struggle with them. A great
roller came surging over the outlying reef. It carried him in like a
feather and hurled him up against the face of the cliff. As he
struggled upon its crest, he mechanically put out his hands and seized a
projecting portion of the rock. The shock of the contact was
tremendous, but he retained his grasp and found himself, when the wave
receded, standing battered and breathless upon a small niche in the
front of the rock which just gave him foothold. It was a marvellous
escape, for looking on either side he could not see any break in the
sheer declivity.
He was by no means safe as yet. If a wave had landed him there another
might come as high and drag him away. Looking down he saw one or two
smaller ones break into spray far below him, and then a second great
green billow came rolling majestically towards him. He eyed it as it
came foaming in, and calculated that it would come at least as high as
his knees. Would it drag him back with it, or could he hold his own?
He braced himself as firmly as he could, placing his feet apart, and
digging his nails into the inequalities of the rock until the blood
gushed from them. The water surged up upon him, and he felt it tugging
like some murderous demon at his legs, but he held on bravely until the
pressure decreased. Looking below the saw the wave sinking down the
face of the cliff. Another wave overtook it and welled it up again, and
then from the depths of the green waters Ezra saw a long white arm shoot
up, and grasp the edge of the ledge upon which he stood.
Even before the face appeared the young man knew that the hand was his
father's. A second followed the first, and then the old merchant's face
was uplifted from the waves. He was cruelly bruised and battered, and
his clothes had been partly torn away. He recognized his son, however,
and looked up at him beseechingly, while he held on with all his
strength to the ledge of rock. So small was the space that his clinging
fingers touched Ezra's toes.
"There's no room here," the young man said brutally.
"For God's sake!"
"Hardly room for one."
The merchant was hanging with the lower portion of his body in the
water. It was but a few instants, but the old man had time to think of
many an incident in his past life. Once more he saw the darkened
sick-room, and his own form standing by the bed of the dying man.
What are these words which ring in his ears above the crash of the surf?
"May your flesh and blood treat you as you treat her." He looked up
appealing at his son. Ezra saw that the next wave would lift him right
up on to the ledge. In that case he might be hustled off.
"Leave go!" he cried.
"Help me, Ezra."
His son brought down his heavy heel upon the bloodless hands. The old
African trader gave a wild shriek and fell back into the sea. Looking
down, Ezra saw his despairing face gazing at him through the water.
Slowly it sank until it was but a flickering white patch far down in the
green depths. At the same instant a thick rope came dangling down the
face of the cliff, and the young man knew that he was saved.