FEVER STILL ON BOARD--PLANS FOR THE FUTURE--EMILY AND MAY ATTEND THE
SICK--MRS CLAGGET'S SUSPICIONS--SCENE ON DECK OF EMIGRANT SHIP--LAND IN
SIGHT--ARRIVAL AT CAPE TOWN--"CRUSADER" AGAIN READY FOR SEA--"CRUSADER"
MEETS ANOTHER SHIP--CHARLES AND BILL WINDY ON BOARD--THE LOST ONE
RECOVERED--CHARLES NARRATES HIS ADVENTURES--SEAMAN OVERBOARD RECOVERED--
ATTEMPTS TO FOLLOW THE SHIP--SHIP LOST SIGHT OF--WITHOUT FOOD OR WATER
IN BOAT--WINDY KEEPS UP THE MEN'S SPIRITS--THEY STEER FOR TRINIDADA--
LONG VOYAGE IN PROSPECT--SUFFERINGS FROM HUNGER AND THIRST--PICKED UP BY
HOMEWARD BOUND SHIP--GET ON BOARD SHIP BOUND FOR THE CAPE--END OF
CHARLIE'S NARRATIVE--"CRUSADER" STANDS TO THE SOUTH--A GALE COMES ON--
TREMENDOUS SEAS--SAIL BLOWN FROM BOLTROPES--MRS CLAGGET'S TONGUE IN THE
STORM--MRS CLAGGET BEGS THE CAPTAIN TO CHANGE HIS COURSE--SHIP THROWN
ON HER BEAM-ENDS--THE MASTS CUT AWAY--THE "CRUSADER" SPRINGS A LEAK.
The "Crusader" having sailed sufficiently far south to obtain the
assistance of the prevailing westerly winds, once more, with
studding-sails on either side, glided rapidly over the ocean towards the
southern end of Africa.
Besides the sickness which still prevailed, she had run short of water,
in consequence of her long detention in the calms of the Tropics; and
this made it doubly necessary for her to touch at the Cape, in order to
obtain a fresh supply before she continued her course across the
Southern Ocean.
Proudly as she sailed on, how different were the spirits of those on
board to what they had been at the commencement of the voyage. Jack
Ivyleaf no longer spouted or sang his comic songs. The poor steerage
passengers mourned for their lost friends. The seamen talked over the
good qualities of Bill Windy, the late mate, who was a general favourite
with them. The captain sincerely grieved for him, and felt his loss
acutely. But Emma and May Dicey, perhaps more than any one else, had
cause to mourn for their brother. Mr Paget endeavoured, with the most
delicate attention, to comfort them; and even Mrs Clagget's manner
softened when she attempted to soothe the grief of the poor girls.
Still her tongue would keep wagging, and they would frequently have been
glad had she kept silence.
"You see, my dear Emily, you and May have been deprived of your brother,
and I know what it is to lose a person one loves. When poor dear Mr
Clagget was taken from me, I thought my heart would break; but it
didn't, you see, and I got over my grief in time. Now, according to my
idea, it is wise to make the best of everything; and what I propose is,
when we reach New Zealand, that we should set up house together. You
cannot live alone, that's very certain, and I have no wish to reside by
myself. It is but natural, and right and proper, that an old friend of
your family, as I am, should remain with you, and afford you that
protection which you so much require."
Notwithstanding Mrs Clagget's kind intentions, neither Emily nor May
had any wish to have the sound of her tongue always in their ears. They
talked over her proposal, but agreed that they would rather do anything
than be compelled to accept it. Mr Paget did not offer any advice on
the subject, considering that there would be time enough to discuss the
matter when they were nearer New Zealand. He probably thought that they
would, when there, find some more desirable friend than the talkative
lady appeared to be. What was passing in his own mind, indeed, he did
not reveal. There were still so many sick on board that the young
ladies' services were almost as much required in attending to them as at
first. In this occupation they found their best solace. After two or
three days, they had aroused themselves to attend to their self-imposed
duties. They were now never idle, although tears unbidden often came
into their eyes when they thought of their young brother, cut off so
suddenly in his youth and strength. They endeavoured, on such
occasions, to turn their minds to the duties they had in hand, and, to
the casual observer, they appeared very soon to have recovered from
their loss.
"I have an idea," said Mrs Clagget to the lady who occupied the next
cabin to hers, "that it won't be long after we arrive in New Zealand
before my friend Emily replaces poor dear Charles. I should have given
those two girls credit for having more feeling; but ah, my dear Mrs
Jones, there's wonderful elasticity in the spirits of youth. I am sure
such was my case, when I was a girl--down one moment, up the next;
weeping and sighing, laughing and dancing, within a few minutes. I was
still in my youth when I was deprived of my dear Mr Clagget, and, as I
was telling them the other day, I thought my heart would break; but I
bore my loss with wonderful equanimity."
"Yes; but then you are a wonderful woman," observed Mrs Jones, who had
long since become weary of her neighbour's loquacity, and did not
observe that the Miss Diceys showed any want of feeling at the loss they
had suffered.
Although at first unwilling to encounter their fellow-passengers, the
two poor girls, feeling the importance of taking the fresh air, used to
come on deck at night, where they would stand, their hands clasped
together, watching the beautiful constellations, and gazing over the
dark ocean which they believed to be their beloved brother's grave. The
other passengers, respecting their grief, kept aloof from them, and
allowed them the part of the deck they chose to themselves. The old
captain and Mr Paget were the only people who spoke to them on such
occasions, and then only to advise them to retire to their cabins, when
the late hour made it desirable. Sometimes, notwithstanding this, Emily
lingered, and Mr Paget, finding that he was not intruding on her
sorrows, stood by her side, offering such subjects of consolation as he
thought likely to produce a good impression upon her mind. Emily felt
very grateful to him, and was thankful that she and her sister had a
friend on whose calm judgment and sympathy they could so thoroughly
rely.
The "Crusader" sailed on towards the east before a steady breeze. Often
for days together not a sheet nor tack was started; the crew had seldom
to go aloft, except to serve some of the rigging, or to keep the usual
lookout.
Although the sickness on board did not increase, the captain still
considered it necessary to put into Simon's Bay for water. One fine
calm morning, the passengers were scattered about in groups on deck, the
women belonging to the steerage attending to various domestic concerns,
the mothers dressing and nursing their children, the girls working or
pretending to work with their needles. Three or four of the men were
helping the cooks, some were mending their shoes, others were tailoring,
a few of both sexes were reading, a greater number arguing some knotty
point, or smoking their pipes, and several were sitting listlessly with
their hands between their knees, already wishing that the voyage was
over, and that they were once more engaged in the occupations to which
they had been accustomed. The crew were all busy in their various
duties about the ship. The captain was not a person to allow his men to
be idle. The carpenter was at his bench, scattering white shavings
around him; several were at work with heaps of oakum, spinning yarns.
The sailmakers, with canvas spread before them, were plying their
needles; others were making mats, or splicing or knotting ropes. The
painters, with their pots and brushes, were giving touches to the
bulwarks and other parts where the paint had been rubbed off; and every
particle of brass was getting a fresh polish from the ship's boys, who
whistled as they worked. The cabin passengers were collected under the
awning on the poop. In one part, Mr and Mrs Bolton, with their
children around them, were holding school; the younger ladies were
reading or working. Mr James Joel was laying down the law on some
agricultural subject to the young farmer, Luke Gravel. Tom Loftus and
Jack Ivyleaf were smoking their cigars, and arranging some plan of
proceeding which Jack had proposed as certain of success. Mrs Clagget,
though with work in her hands, had forgot all about it in her eagerness
to employ her tongue on her reluctant hearer, poor Mrs Jones. Emily
and May were reading together a book which Mr Paget had lent them. He
had wisely judged that the best way to restore their spirits was to draw
them off from themselves. He was standing near them, doing nothing, an
unusual occurrence for him. Now and then he glanced over the page, and
made some remark, and though perhaps he was not aware of it, he
continued watching Emily's countenance as she read.
"I thought so before, and now I am sure," whispered Mrs Clagget to her
companion. "Well, it's the best thing that could happen."
"But is he going to settle in New Zealand?" asked Mrs Jones. "He is a
mere traveller I fancy, or perhaps he has a wife already."
"I think too highly of him to suppose that," said Mrs Clagget; "though,
to be sure, I do wish he would talk more about himself. I like a person
to be communicative; those reticent people always puzzle me."
Such was the state of affairs on board the "Crusader" when a voice was
heard from aloft shouting the welcome cry of "Land ho! Land on the port
bow!" In an instant every one was on the alert, looking out in the
direction indicated; but though it could be seen from the mast-head, a
considerable time passed before it was visible from the deck.
The captain ordered the seamen to the starboard braces, and in an
instant, the deck, before so quiet, was full of bustle and life. The
ship was hauled up to the north, and at length the bold outline of the
Cape of Good Hope came into view. Before evening the "Crusader"
anchored in Simon's Bay.
The captain at once went on shore, and returned with the satisfactory
intelligence that the passengers would be allowed to land on the
following morning, though they would be kept in quarantine till all fear
of infection had passed away. This would detain the ship for some time;
but it was hoped that the residence on shore, with the advantages of an
abundant supply of fresh vegetables, would restore the sick to health.
Mrs Clagget was very indignant on finding that she would not be allowed
to visit the town, nor to travel into the country. She had, however, to
submit to regulations which were for the good of all. All the
passengers were indeed compelled to land, as it was considered necessary
thoroughly to fumigate every part of the "Crusader," an operation which
could not be carried on while they remained on board. When released
from quarantine, the Miss Diceys met with much sympathy from the
inhabitants of Cape Town, who had heard of the loss of the boat. Mr
Paget was received with great attention by the principal people in the
place.
"I am sure he must be somebody," observed Mrs Clagget, when she heard
of it. "I have always remarked a peculiarly aristocratic air about
him." However, as Mr Paget himself did not speak of any of his
acquaintances, the good lady began to doubt whether the report was true.
At length the "Crusader" was declared to be again ready for sea, the
steerage passengers were removed on board, and the following day the
rest again occupied their cabins. Captain Westerway had wished to
obtain another first mate in the place of Bill Windy, but he had been
unsuccessful. The second mate was a young man, and though a fair
sailor, was not as trustworthy a navigator as the captain desired; thus,
consequently, throwing more labour and responsibility on him. Once more
the sails were loosed, the anchor hove up, and the "Crusader" stood out
of Simon's Bay, the captain hoping to get a good offing before
nightfall. Sail after sail was loosed; and close-hauled, with the wind
to the westward, she glided swiftly over the blue sea. While the
passengers were on deck watching the receding shores, a shout was heard
that another ship was approaching under all sail, right ahead. Their
attention was turned towards the stranger. She was an object to be
admired, as, the sun glancing on her wide spread of canvas, she heeled
gracefully over to the breeze. The two ships rapidly neared each other,
the "Crusader" keeping to windward. Closer and closer they drew; it
seemed, indeed, as if they were about to run into each other. The
stranger, however, slightly deviated from the course on which she had
been steering, and then keeping as before, showed that she intended to
pass as near as possible to leeward of the "Crusader." The passengers
of the latter ship hurried to the side nearest her, and a number of
people were seen on board, some holding on to the shrouds, others
leaning over the bulwarks.
"Why, as I'm a live man, there's our mate, Bill Windy," exclaimed one of
the "Crusader's" seamen, "and there's Dick Hansom, and Tom Bowline, I do
believe! Yes, it's Tom himself!"
Emily and May heard these exclamations, and, eagerly gazing with beating
hearts, they saw their brother Charles in the main rigging. They looked
and looked again, scarcely trusting their eyes; but there could be no
mistake. He waved his hand; he had seen them, and Bill Windy discovered
them also.
"Heave to," cried the mate, "and we will come aboard you."
The two ships glided by each other. The helm of the stranger was put
down, and with her headsails backed against the masts, she lay, hove to.
Captain Westerway imitated the manoeuvre, and the "Crusader" likewise
became almost stationary. Scarcely even now crediting what they had
seen, and feeling as if they were in a dream, the two sisters watched
the stranger. A boat was lowered. Several people jumped into her, and
she rapidly approached. In a few minutes their dear brother Charles,
for whom they had so long grieved as lost, was in their arms. May hung
about his neck, and kissed him again and again. Bill Windy and the rest
of the boat's crew received the hearty greetings of their shipmates.
The good captain, with a tear in his eye, warmly shook his mate by the
hand. "I would rather see you here alive and well, my dear fellow, than
be told I had a fortune of a hundred thousand pounds left me, and need
no longer knock about the salt ocean. I had given you up as gone for
ever, Bill."
"I knew that you would do your best to look for us, captain," answered
the mate, "and that it was no fault of yours that you didn't pick us up.
We had a narrow squeak for it; but we had saved poor Tom, and that
cheered us during the dangerous time we had to go through."
"And how did it all happen, how did it all happen, Mr Charles?"
exclaimed Mrs Clagget, as soon as she thought he and his sisters had
kissed and welcomed him sufficiently, as she called it. "We're dying to
know how it happened, for we never expected to see you again."
"I hope soon to tell you my story," answered Charles, "but I must shake
hands first with the friends who are wishing to speak to me."
Mr Paget was among the foremost to welcome Charles, the rest of the
passengers following, and expressing their pleasure at seeing him again.
"Now, Charles, you must know that I am very angry with you for jumping
into that boat," exclaimed Mrs Clagget. "The only way you can make
your peace with me is to tell me your story at once. I can't let you go
and describe all to your sisters and other people, and allow me to have
it second-hand."
Charles laughed. "I must not disappoint you, then, Mrs Clagget," he
said. "But were I to give you more than the outline of my adventures, I
should have to spin you too long a yarn; so you must excuse me if I
somewhat curtail my story. Soon after we shoved off from the ship, we
saw the lifebuoy, and Tom Bowline, the man who had fallen overboard,
clinging to it, and driving away to leeward. We followed, and not
without difficulty got him at last on board. We then attempted to
secure the buoy, and while so doing, a heavy sea broke over us, and
nearly swamped the boat. She had, we found, so slight a hold of the
water that she drifted away even faster than the lifebuoy. One of the
oars had been broken, and another was carried away while we were trying
to haul in the lifebuoy. We thus in vain attempted to pull back to the
ship, and found ourselves every instant increasing our distance from
her. Sometimes, as we sank into the trough of the sea, she was hidden
from our sight, and we knew, consequently, that we could not be seen
from her deck; besides this, from the colour of the boat, when we were
on the crest of the sea, we were well aware that she could scarcely be
distinguished from the foaming water around. At length we saw the yards
swung round, and then we knew that we must have been given up for lost.
To reach her was impossible. You may fancy, my dear sisters, how
acutely I felt for you, knowing the grief my supposed loss must cause
you. That, indeed, was the hardest thing to bear. Our hopes revived
when we saw the ship wear round, and stand back again nearly across the
spot where Tom had fallen overboard; but she kept too far to windward.
Though we could not row with any effect, we determined to try and sail.
Happily, Jack Ivyleaf and Tom Loftus had in the morning been reclining
at their ease in the boat to smoke their cigars, and, to make themselves
comfortable, had thrown in some rugs and blankets. With these we
devised some sails, the broken oar was fitted as a bowsprit, and two
other oars were stepped as masts. Some of the emigrants had,
fortunately for us, also left a child's mattress in the boat. This,
split open, formed a jib and fore-staysail We had a coil of rope, with
which we fitted the stays and sheets. Our sails answered better than we
expected; but we found that we could not lie sufficiently close to the
wind to get up to the ship. Our disappointment was great when we saw
her again standing on her course. Night was approaching, and we were by
this time some five miles away; still, while the light lasted, we could
clearly trace the rise and fall of her bowsprit with the swell of the
sea. Bill Windy, however, did his best to keep up our spirits. `Never
fear, lads,' he exclaimed, `we are slipping along at a good rate through
the water, and we shall not be so very far astern of the old ship after
all; perhaps at daylight, when the sea goes down, as it is doing fast,
she will catch sight of us, and we shall be aboard again for breakfast.'
The word `breakfast' made us think of food, for we were feeling
somewhat hungry; but not a particle could be found in the boat. The
mate now divided us into two watches; he was in the one, I in the other.
While one of us steered, another kept a look-out, and the rest slept.
I confess that I felt from the first that the chance of catching the
ship was but small; still I hoped that we might do so, and hope kept up
my spirits during that long night. Sleep I could not for thinking of
you both, and what would become of you should I be lost. I knew we were
a long, long way from any land, without a drop of water or a particle of
food. We could scarcely, therefore, expect to survive till we should
reach even the nearest point. While I sat alongside the mate, talking
of the possibility of overtaking the ship, I asked him whether he really
thought we could do so.
"`That depends whether during the night she carries much sail or not.
The captain believes that the boat was swamped. To tell you the truth,
Mr Dicey, I don't think we shall overhaul her, however, we must not
give way to despair. If the worst comes to the worst, we must try and
make a little island which lies midway between the coast of South
America and Africa, called Trinidada. It is a barren spot, but I have
heard that water is to be procured there, and it is said that a few
runaway seamen, with negro wives, manage to pick up a livelihood on it.
If so, we shall not want for food, as where they exist we can manage to
support ourselves till a ship passes within hail.' By the mate's
calculation, the island he spoke of was about a hundred and twenty miles
away to leeward. It was, however, but a small dot in the ocean to hit
to a certainty; still he thought we should not fail to pass within sight
of it. `However,' he concluded, `mind, I don't think that it is
impossible we may, after all, be in sight of the ship at daylight.' The
boat was making fine weather of it, and slipping at the rate of five or
six knots an hour through the water, so that, had we possessed something
to eat and drink, we should have had less cause for anxiety.
Notwithstanding this, the men kept up their spirits wonderfully, and as
they were roused up one after the other to take their watch, each man
had a joke on his lips. The thing they chiefly seemed to sigh for was a
pipe of tobacco. Tom had had some in his pocket, he declared, when he
went overboard, but it must have slipped out, and he mourned its loss
more than that of his hat.
"When morning broke, you may be sure we eagerly looked out for the ship,
but she was nowhere to be seen. `Then, lads,' exclaimed the mate, in a
cheerful voice, `what we have now to do is to steer for the island I
have been telling Mr Dicey about. No fear as to getting there, and we
may live like Robinson Crusoe, the lords of all we survey, till some
craft comes by to take us off, and then we can go or not as we have a
mind to do.' `Hurra for Trinidada,' shouted the men, inquiring of the
mate what sort of a place it was. As the wind was right aft, we rigged
the square-sail with the boathook as a yard, and though the sea was
still running pretty heavily, we calculated that we were making a good
six knots an hour. The mate advised the men to take a reef in their
belts when they felt hungry. `Ay, ay, sir,' answered Tom, laughing,
`it's the best way to keep hunger out, when there happens to be no
plum-dough to stow aboard.' `I wonder who will have ours,' exclaimed
another of the men. `I'll lay anything Dick Handspike does his best to
get my share.' Thus the men joked and laughed as if we were not in the
middle of the Atlantic, with a fearful probability of being starved to
death. Bill Windy assured us that we should make the island by noon the
following day, whispering to me, however, that he had hopes of reaching
it by dawn, and we all made up our minds for another supperless night at
sea. I had little notion before what were the actual sensations of
thirst and hunger. I could not help thinking of your remark, Mrs
Clagget, to me a short time ago, and wished that a covey of flying-fish
would come on board. Some of the men had begun to scrape the broken
pieces of the oar, and chew the wood to stop the gnawing of hunger.
Another night, we all felt, would be very trying. The day wore on, and
though we had kept a bright look-out on either side, no sail had been
sighted. Believing that if I could get to sleep, I might better endure
the pangs of hunger, I at length threw myself down in the bottom of the
boat, and had been dozing away, though still conscious of where I was,
when I heard a shout of `Sail, ahoy!' We were all sitting up in a
moment, and saw, on the port bow, the topgallant sails of a ship rising
above the horizon. She was standing to the northward. We bore away and
rapidly neared her. As we approached, she altered her course still more
for us. We were seen, and had now every hopes of getting on board. At
length she hove to, and we were quickly alongside. She was an American
whaler, homeward bound. The captain received us with the greatest
kindness; our boat was hoisted up; and while Windy and I were
entertained in the cabin, the men were hospitably treated by the crew
forward. Although we were no longer in danger of starving, I could not
help still thinking of the grief you, my sisters, were suffering on my
account, and wishing that some aerial telegraph existed among the
wonders of nature by which I could send you a message to assure you of
my safety. Months might pass before I could find a ship to rejoin you
in New Zealand. When the captain heard of my anxiety, he promised to
keep a bright look-out for any ship bound for the Cape or the Australian
colonies, on board which he might put us. The mate and I spent most of
each day relieving each other at the mast-head, not willing to trust to
the eyes of others.
"Near a week had passed away, when Bill Windy, who was aloft, hailed the
deck. A ship was in sight, steering southward. We stood for her, with
a signal flying. She hove to. We did the same. She was bound out for
the Cape. Wishing good-bye to the kind master, who would not receive
even the boat which we offered him as payment for his hospitality, we
went on board the other ship. We were as kindly received as before. We
met with no accident, though we had a somewhat slow passage, till, to
our joy, we recognised the `Crusader' coming out of Simon's Bay. Thus,
Mrs Clagget, ends our adventures. I only wish you had heard them from
my friend Windy, as he would have given them in a more graphic manner."
"Oh, I intend to get them out of him before long," said Mrs Clagget.
"There are a number of things I want to ask him about, and remember, Mr
Charles, that you never go and do so foolish a thing again. You don't
know how angry I have been with you."
"I am much obliged to you, Mrs Clagget, and promise to remember your
advice," said Charles, laughing, as he descended with his sisters to
their cabin, where they might talk of their dear home and the loved ones
there. Charles greatly relieved their minds when he told them that he
had written home, and that he hoped his letter would reach England as
soon as that which conveyed the intelligence of his supposed loss. They
had thought of remaining at the Cape, but Mrs Clagget and Captain
Westerway had urged them to continue their voyage in the "Crusader."
Perhaps Mr Paget might have said something about the matter. At all
events, they had determined to go on to New Zealand, thence to return
home, should they find it desirable. Having recovered their brother,
they had now no longer any doubts about the future, but believed--and
surely that was but natural--that all would go smoothly and happily.
The ship stood to the south, till she again met with the steady westerly
wind, which had already carried her so many hundred miles on her voyage.
A change, however, again came over the ocean. Dark clouds were seen
hurrying across the sky; the sea, hitherto rolling in regular billows,
now began to foam, and hiss, and dance wildly about, the wind carrying
the spray in thick sheets from their curling summits over the deck.
Sail after sail was taken off the ship, till the topsails, closely
reefed, alone remained set, the gale howling and whistling in the
rigging. The waves continued to increase in height, and huge mountains
of water rose up on either side, whilst others came rolling astern, as
if about to break over the poop and sweep the decks of the stout ship.
The emigrants were desired to keep below, the hatches were battened
down, everything that could be washed away was secured. Lines were also
stretched along the deck, by the aid of which the seamen could make
their way from one end to the other. Four of the best hands, secured by
ropes, were at the helm, where they stood struggling and clinging to it
every now and then, in spite of all their efforts one or other being
thrown on either side from the violent jerks it made. The wind
increased every instant, low heavily laden clouds bounded the horizon,
circumscribed to a couple of miles. Sometimes the ship sank so low in
the trough of the sea that the curling summits of the waves appeared to
reach above her mast-heads; now she climbed a watery height, to remain
but for a moment, before she rushed down again on her impetuous course.
In vain the captain and his mates shouted to the men, their voices were
drowned by the loud uproar of the waves, the howling and whistling of
the wind in the rigging, the creaking of the bulk-heads, the flapping of
the canvas, the complaining of the masts and spars. A fierce hurricane
was blowing, such as Captain Westerway said he had never before
encountered in those seas. Charles and Mr Paget frequently made their
way on deck to witness the grand spectacle which the ocean presented. A
close-reefed fore-topsail, and a storm-staysail were the only sails set;
but even with these the masts bent as if they would go by the board, and
every moment it seemed likely that the canvas would be carried out of
the boltropes. Looking astern, they saw the huge waves following them,
now one came rolling up, its foaming crest towering over the taffrail,
while ahead appeared another, the summit of which could just be seen
above the fore-topmast-crosstrees. In an instant, the ship, escaping
from the watery mountain astern, rose to the crest of that before her,
and thus she careered onwards, again sinking so low down, that,
sheltered by the surrounding seas, the wind could not be felt on deck,
though still heard whistling aloft. Directly afterwards it came with a
force against which it seemed scarcely possible to withstand.
Frequently as the ship rolled, the ends of her yards flicked off the
crest of the waves which rose up on either side. For several days the
ship ran on, the gale in no way moderating. Emily and May longed to go
on deck, to witness, with their brother and Mr Paget, the wild tumult
of waters. They wisely entreated them not to make the attempt.
"No, no, young ladies," said Captain Westerway, "you had better stay
where you are. We are doing our best as seamen, but we cannot tell from
one moment to another what may happen. A mast may go, and one of those
waves following astern might break on board, and sweep the decks, and
you will be carried away like feathers without the possibility of saving
you."
This reply made them very anxious whenever Charles and Mr Paget went on
deck. One day they both had gone up as usual, promising to hold fast
and not run any risk of the danger the Captain had pictured. Just as
the ship had reached the crest of a sea a clap was heard like the sound
of thunder. The fore-topsail had split. In an instant the larger
portion was blown into ribbons, which, streaming out, flapped and
twisted and curled themselves round the yard.
"Fore-topmen, aloft!" cried the captain, and, led by Bill Windy, several
men mounted the rigging with axes in their belts. As the fragments of
the sail beat wildly about, the men ran a fearful risk of being caught
by them and hurled into the foaming sea. Bravely they faced the danger,
and, cutting away the remainder of the sail, off it flew like a gigantic
kite ahead of the ship. Now came the task of bending another sail.
Notwithstanding the difficulty, this was accomplished, the ship happily
escaping being pooped during the interval.
Several more days passed by and still the gale gave no sign of abating.
How different was the aspect of the cabin now to what it had been during
fine weather. The stern lights were closely shut in, the sky-light
battened down and covered over, to prevent any sea which might come on
board breaking through. A solitary lamp swung, both night and day, to
and fro, casting a pale, flickering light around. Most of the
passengers kept in their cabins, seldom venturing out, even at the
breakfast and dinner hour, at which time the table was partially covered
with dishes, firmly secured by puddings and fiddles, as the captain told
them the lines and sandbags fastened to it are called. Even Mrs
Clagget's tongue was more silent than usual; sometimes, however, it
could be heard amid the creaking of the bulk-heads, as she endeavoured
to make Mr Jones listen to her complaints; but, though the notes of her
voice were distinguishable, that much-enduring lady could but seldom
catch the meaning of her words. "Terrible!" then the ship rolled and
the bulk-heads creaked. "Deceitful!" and a blow on the quarter from the
sea prevented the remainder of the sentence being heard. "Ought to have
come another way,"--the increasing uproar drowned even her voice.
"Complain to authorities," showed that Mrs Clagget entertained strong
doubts of the captain's seamanship. Now and then, when he made his
appearance in the cabin, though he was but seldom off the deck, she
attacked him vigorously. He, however, only smiled at her complaints,
and assured her that, had he the management of the weather, he would
have arranged smooth seas and steady breezes for her sake, and for that
of the other fair ladies on board. "But you see, madam," he observed,
"though the wind blows pretty strong, it is carrying us at a good rate
on our course. In a few days we shall be at no great distance from the
southern end of New Zealand; and, once under the lee of the land, we
shall have, I hope, smooth water and a fair breeze to carry us into
port."
The gale, however, continued longer than the captain expected; but he
hoped soon to make the land which he had spoken of. This news raised
the spirits of all, and many who, during the continuance of the
hurricane, had shut themselves up in their cabins, now once more
appeared on deck.
"Do you really tell me that the sea has greatly gone down?" said Emily,
as she watched the still mountainous billows amid which the ship
laboured.
"Oh, they are mere mole-hills to what they have been," answered Bill
Windy, who was standing by. "The stout ship makes nothing of them.
See, we have our three topsails set again, and shall soon be shaking out
the topgallant sails and letting fall the courses." The mate, however,
was wrong in his prognostications. During the middle watch, while the
second mate had charge of the deck, the wind suddenly chopped round.
The ship heeled to the fearful blast. In an instant her lee-yardarms
were dipping in the foaming seas. Before he had time to issue any
orders the main topgallant mast was carried away, dragging the
fore-topmast, and with it the jibboom. Still the ship did not rise--she
was on her beam-ends. Captain Westerway and Bill Windy were on deck in
an instant. The watch below came hurrying up without being summoned.
Every one knew what had occurred.
"Cut away the mizen-mast, Windy," cried the captain.
The mate, with a gleaming axe in his hand, stood ready to obey the
order. The shrouds were cut.
"Cut," cried the captain, and a few strokes sent the tall mast into the
sea. The desired effect was not produced. The helm was put up, but the
ship refused to obey it. The mate sprang to the mainmast. That, too,
must go, or the ship might never rise from her dangerous position; but
it was a fearful alternative; for, deprived of her masts, she might be
driven at the mercy of the wind and waves, and cast helpless on some
rocky shore of that bleak region, towards which, should the gale
continue, she might be driven.
"Cut," again cried the captain. The mainmast fell into the seething
water, the seamen hurrying with axes to sever the ropes which kept it
still attached to the ship. With a sudden jerk the ship in another
instant rose to an even keel; but so violent was the motion that the
foremast, deprived of its accustomed support, went by the board, and the
"Crusader" lay a helpless wreck on the wild waste of waters.
It is needless to describe the dismay and anxiety of those below, though
only partly aware of the dangerous position to which the ship was
reduced. Now, answering her helm, she flew before the gale. While the
captain was issuing orders to clear the wreck, the carpenter appeared
with a face of dismay. He had been sounding the well.
"Three feet of water in the hold, sir," he said. "It will be a hard
job, with all the pumps going, to keep the leaks under."
Mr Paget heard the announcement. "I will get the emigrants to work
them," he said, "and the cabin passengers will, I feel confident, set
the example."
"Rig the pumps at once, then, Mr Gimlett," said the captain. "When the
gale moderates we will get up jury-masts, and do our best to save the
ship. Tell the poor people not to be downhearted, Mr Paget, but to put
their trust in Him who has carried us thus far on our voyage in safety."