_How Dawson counts himself an unlucky man who were best dead; and so he
quits us, and I, the reader._
The galley bent over to the wind and sped away, and I watched her go
without regret, not thinking of our own hapless condition, but only of
the brutal ferocity of that mad crew aboard her.
Their shouts of joy and diabolical laughter died away, and there was no
sound but the lapping of the waves against the felucca's side. They had
done their work thoroughly; not a moan arose from the heaps of butchered
men, not a limb moved, but all were rigid, some lying in grotesque
postures as the death agony had drawn them. And after the tumult that
had prevailed this stillness of death was terrific. From looking over
this ghastly picture I turned and clutched at Dawson's hand for some
comforting sense of life and humanity.
We were startled at this moment by a light laugh from the cabin, whither
Mr. Godwin had carried Moll, fainting with the horror of this bloody
business, and going in there we found her now lying in a little crib,
light-headed,--clean out of her wits indeed, for she fancied herself on
the dusty road to Valencia, taking her first lesson in the fandango from
Don Sanchez. Mr. Godwin knelt by the cot side, with his arm supporting
her head, and soothing her the best he could. We found a little cask of
water and a cup, that he might give her drink, and then, seeing we could
be of no further service, Dawson and I went from the cabin, our thoughts
awaking now to the peril of our position, without sail in mid-sea.
And first we cast our eyes all round about the sea, but we could descry
no sail save the galley (and that at a great distance), nor any sign of
land. Next, casting our eyes upon the deck, we perceived that the thick
stream of blood that lay along that side bent over by the broken mast,
was greatly spread, and not so black, but redder, which was only to be
explained by the mingling of water; and this was our first notice that
the felucca was filling and we going down.
Recovering presently from the stupor into which this suspicion threw us,
we pulled up a hatch, and looking down into the hold perceived that this
was indeed true, a puncheon floating on the water there within arms'
reach. Thence, making our way quickly over the dead bodies, which failed
now to terrify us, to the fore part of our felucca, we discovered that
the shot which had hit us had started a plank, and that the water leaked
in with every lap of a wave. So now, our wits quickened by our peril, we
took a scimitar and a dirk from a dead janizary, to cut away the cordage
that lashed us to the fallen mast, to free us of that burden and right
the ship if we might. But ere we did this, Dawson, spying the great sail
lying out on the water, bethought him to hack out a great sheet as far
as we could reach, and this he took to lay over the started plank and
staunch the leakage, while I severed the tackle and freed us from the
great weight of the hanging mast and long spar. And certainly we thought
ourselves safe when this was done, for the hull lifted at once and
righted itself upon the water. Nevertheless, we were not easy, for we
knew not what other planks below the water line were injured, nor how to
sink our sheet or bind it over the faulty part. So, still further to
lighten us, we mastered our qualms and set to work casting the dead
bodies overboard. This horrid business, at another time, would have made
me sick as any dog, but there was no time to yield to mawkish
susceptibilities in the face of such danger as menaced us. Only when all
was done, I did feel very weakened and shaky, and my gorge rising at the
look of my jerkin, all filthy with clotted blood, I tore it off and cast
it in the sea, as also did Dawson; and so, to turn our thoughts (after
washing of our hands and cleaning our feet), we looked over the side,
and agreed that we were no lower than we were, but rather higher for
having lightened our burden. But no sail anywhere on the wide sea to add
to our comfort.
Going into the cabin, we found that our dear Moll had fallen into a
sleep, but was yet very feverish, as we could see by her frequent
turning, her sudden starts, and the dreamy, vacant look in her eyes,
when she opened them and begged for water. We would not add to Mr.
Godwin's trouble by telling him of ours (our minds being still restless
with apprehensions of the leak), but searching about, and discovering
two small, dry loaves, we gave him one, and took the other to divide
betwixt us, Dawson and I. And truly we needed this refreshment (as our
feeble, shaking limbs testified), after all our exertions of the night
and day (it being now high noon), having eaten nothing since supper the
night before. But, famished as we were, we must needs steal to the side
and look over to mark where the water rose; and neither of us dared say
the hull was no lower, for we perceived full well it had sunk somewhat
in the last hour.
Jack took a bite of his loaf, and offered me the rest, saying he had no
stomach for food; but I could not eat my own, and so we thrust the bread
in our breeches pockets and set to work, heaving everything overboard
that might lighten us, and for ever a-straining our eyes to sight a
ship. Then we set to devising means to make the sheet cling over the
damaged planks, but to little purpose, and so Dawson essayed to get at
it from the inside by going below, but the water was risen so high there
was no room between it and the deck to breathe, and so again to wedging
the canvas in from the outside till the sun sank. And by that time the
water was beginning to lap up through the hatchway. Then no longer able
to blink the truth, Jack turns to me and asks:
"How long shall we last?"
"Why," says I, "we have sunk no more than a foot these last six hours,
and at this slow pace we may well last out eight or nine more ere the
water comes over the bulwarks."
He shook his head ruefully, and, pointing to a sluice hole in the side,
said he judged it must be all over with us when the water entered there.
"Why, in that case," says I, "let us find something to fill the sluice
hole."
So having nothing left on deck, we went into the cabin on a pretence of
seeing how Moll fared, and Jack sneaked away an old jacket and I a stone
bottle, and with these we stopped the sluice hole the best we could.
By the time we had made a job of this 'twas quite dark, and having
nothing more to do but to await the end, we stood side by side, too
dejected to speak for some time, thinking of the cruelty of fate which
rescued us from one evil only to plunge us in a worse. At length, Jack
fell to talking in a low tone of his past life, showing how things had
ever gone ill with him and those he loved.
"I think," says he in conclusion, "I am an unlucky man, Kit. One of
those who are born to be a curse against their will to others rather
than a blessing."
"Fie, Jack," says I, "'tis an idle superstition."
"Nay," says he, "I am convinced 'tis the truth. Not one of us here but
would have been the happier had I died a dozen years ago. 'Tis all
through me that we drown to-night."
"Nay, 'tis a blessing that we die all together, and none left to mourn."
"That may be for you and me who have lived the best years of our life,
but for those in there but just tasting the sweets of life, with years
of joy unspent, 'tis another matter."
Then we were silent for a while, till feeling the water laving my feet,
I asked if we should not now tell Mr. Godwin of our condition.
"'Twas in my mind, Kit," answers he; "I will send him out to you."
He went into the cabin, and Mr. Godwin coming out, I showed him our
state. But 'twas no surprise to him. Only, it being now about three in
the morning, and the moon risen fair and full in the heavens, he casts
his eyes along the silver path on the water in the hope of rescue, and
finding none, he grasps my hand and says:
"God's will be done! 'Tis a mercy that my dear love is spared this last
terror. Our pain will not be long."
A shaft of moonlight entered the cabin, and there we perceived Dawson
kneeling by the crib, with his head laid upon the pillow beside his
daughter.
He rose and came out without again turning to look on Moll, and Mr.
Godwin took his place.
"I feel more happy, Kit," says Jack, laying his hand upon my shoulder.
"I do think God will be merciful to us."
"Aye, surely," says I, wilfully mistaking his meaning. "I think the
water hath risen no higher this last hour."
"I'll see how our sheet hangs; do you look if the water comes in yet at
the sluice hole."
And so, giving my arm a squeeze as he slips his hand from my shoulder,
he went to the fore part of the vessel, while I crossed to the sluice
hole, where the water was spurting through a chink.
I rose after jamming the jacket to staunch the leak, and turning towards
Jack I perceived him standing by the bulwark, with the moon beyond. And
the next moment he was gone. And so ended the life of this poor, loving,
unlucky man.
I know not whether it was this lightening of our burden, or whether at
that time some accident of a fold in the sail sucking into the leaking
planks, stayed the further ingress of waters, but certain it is that
after this we sank no deeper to any perceptible degree; and so it came
about that we were sighted by a fishing-boat from Carthagena, a little
after daybreak, and were saved--we three who were left.
* * * * *
I have spent the last week at Hurst Court, where Moll and her husband
have lived ever since Lady Godwin's death. They are making of hay in the
meadows there; and 'twas sweet to see Moll and her husband, with their
two boys, cocking the sweet grass. And all very merry at supper; only
one sad memory cast me down as I thought of poor Jack, sorrowing to
think he could not see the happiness which, as much as our past
troubles, was due to him.