A RESCUE AT SEA
"THERE'S a power o' wind behind that mirk, sir," exclaimed Wilkins,
the bos'n, jerking his thumb in the direction of the dark,
ill-defined clouds that had shut out the sight of land.
"Yes, we are in for a good dusting," replied my father. "The glass is
rising far too rapidly. Make everything secure on deck, and put extra
lashings on the boats. And also," he added, as the bos'n saluted and
began to make his way for'ard, "have the jibs changed before it gets
too thick."
We were sufficiently far from land to prevent its affording much
shelter, and with the increasing wind, huge waves began to curl
viciously under our counter, threatening every moment to break over
our quarter. But the staunch little yacht rose splendidly to each
white crest, and, beyond a shower of spray that darkened our canvas
almost to the peak, hardly a drop of solid water reached our decks.
Astern, the trailing line of the Walker "Cherub" log was stretched to
almost the rigidity of an iron bar, and the indicator bell, sounding
at every quarter-knot with less than two minutes' interval, showed
our speed to be well over seven knots.
Suddenly, accompanied by a blinding downpour of hail that rolled on
our decks and clustered in white patches in our lee scuppers, a
furious squall struck us, making the "Fortuna" heel till I thought
she would never recover herself. But with a few rapid turns of the
wheel the helm was put hard up, till, relieved of the enormous
pressure on her canvas, the yacht shook herself free like a great
mastiff emerging from the water.
"Pay her head off a point now," shouted the bos'n to the seaman at
the wheel, and, without losing way, the yacht resumed her course,
churning the sea over her bows in swishing columns of spray.
While the squall lasted, I was dimly aware that I was gripping a
belaying-pin like grim death, swallowing mouthfuls of salt-laden air,
till it seemed that I was actually enveloped in water, while each
wave, as it flung itself against our quarter, shook the bulwarks till
it threatened to tear them bodily away.
In obedience to an order that was inaudible to me, several of the
crew came rushing along the deck, in spite of the terrific heel and
jerky motion of the vessel, and in a few moments the halliards of the
mainsail were paid out, and a dozen strong hands were struggling with
the cringles and reef-points of the mainsail. Directly the reef was
"knocked down," the "Fortuna" took things easier, yet with apparently
undiminished speed she threshed her way through the foam-crested
waves.
"Sail on the port bow, sir," repeated the bos'n, taking up the cry
from a seaman on the look-out for'ard; and through the driving rain
we could see a large topsail schooner, her close-reefed mainsail
streaming in ribbons, and only her foresail and inner jib set,
pounding heavily on the port-tack, the waves sweeping clean over her
sides, as, high in ballast, she listed dangerously, till one could
almost fancy that her weather bilges were showing.
"There's an old coffin!" shouted Uncle Herbert in my ear. "Four times
our size and nothing like so seaworthy."
"It's an absolute scandal to allow a ship to put to sea so high in
ballast," bawled my father, who overheard the remark. "If they insist
on a Plimsoll line to prevent overloading, why not a similar mark to
stop vessels putting to sea too light?"
"I don't know," replied my uncle, shaking the water from his
sou'-wester. "But yonder craft will be lucky if ever she makes port
in safety. Look at her now."
An extra vicious blast had come, sweeping down, making even the
"Fortuna," with her double-reefed canvas, reel; but the schooner
staggered as if struck by a solid substance, and heeled over till her
topsail yards almost touched the water, and I thought she had
actually capsized.
At length she slowly righted, and, staggering and plunging, she was
soon lost to sight in the rain-laden atmosphere.
Shortly afterwards two torpedo-boat destroyers came thrashing along
within a cable's length of our stern, their four squat funnels, caked
white with salt, belching out volumes of black smoke, through which
gleamed dark red flames, the indications of steaming under forced
draught. There was no attempt on the part of these dogs of war to
ride the waves: their sharp bows simply cut through the heaving
water, which fell in cascades from their turtle-back decks. On either
bridge could be discerned the glistening sou'-westers of the officers
on duty, as, to avoid the blinding spray, they crouched behind the
storm-dodgers, while, as the destroyers tore past, we had a momentary
glimpse of their weather-worn white ensigns, and both craft were
hidden in a chaos of spray and smoke.
"You had better get below and have something to eat," shouted my
father; but I shook my head.
"A bit queer, eh?"
"No," I replied, conscious at the same time that I did feel a trifle
uneasy.
"Then cut off down below," he repeated, "and keep out of the wet for
a time. Tell Johnston to make you some tea; you look pinched with
cold."
I obeyed, and, staggering across the slippery deck, I gained the
companion and reached the shelter of the saloon. The place was in
semi-darkness, for dead-lights had been placed over the scuttles and
the skylight covered over with tarpaulins, and the only illumination
was the dim daylight that filtered through the half-closed companion
hatch. Coming from the open air, the atmosphere of the saloon seemed
close and oppressive, and I would have willingly preferred to remain
on deck during the storm (which Uncle Herbert insisted on terming a
strong breeze) rather than be cooped up 'tween decks.
However, I lay down on one of the sofa-bunks on the lee side,
battling with a dizzy sensation that made me lose all interest in
life; but I could remember watching the antics of the swing table as
it oscillated, in spite of its construction, with the pitching of the
vessel, and wondering whether, a soda-water siphon, that was
continually sliding from one side of the table to the other, would
overbalance and explode.
How long I remained thus I have no idea, though it may have been
hours; but suddenly there was a hurried trampling of feet on deck, a
succession of orders, and the "Fortuna" went about on the other tack,
sending me flying from the berth (which was now on the weather side)
on to the floor, where I lay, covered with cushions, books, and
half-a-dozen wooden boxes which had been disgorged from a cupboard
through the lock being insecurely fastened.
In an instant my scattered senses returned, and, realizing that
something unusual must have happened for the yacht to be put on the
other tack when she was sailing free on her proper course, I sprang
to my feet and scrambled up the companion.
On gaining the deck I found the crew clustered along the lee
bulwarks, gazing intently upon a small craft barely a hundred yards
away. It was a yacht, apparently, of about three or four tons, with a
large rent in her mainsail, her storm-jib in ribbons, and only her
foresail intact.
As she fell into the trough of the huge seas she lost the wind, but
the moment she rose on the crest of a wave she was caught by the
furious gusts and heeled till we could almost see her keel and as she
heeled a long dark line showed on her white side close to her chain
plates.
"She's done for!" shouted the bos'n. "That last squall has burst one
of her seams." Crouched in her cockpit was a man whose white face was
drawn with the peril of the situation. With one hand he grasped the
tiller, and with the other he appeared to be trying to pump out the
water that was pouring into the doomed craft, occasionally desisting
to wave a frantic appeal for assistance.
Snatching a lifebuoy, my uncle rapidly bent a stout grass line to it,
and held it up for the unfortunate yachtsman to see, for shouting was
useless. In another moment the "Fortuna," which was tearing through
the water like a racehorse, had left the disabled craft far astern.
"Lee ho!" shouted the bos'n, and with a loud flapping of canvas the
"Fortuna" ran up into the wind, and, drawing on the other tack, ran
back on her errand of mercy. In spite of the sheets being slacked
well off, our stout little craft rushed towards the unfortunate
yacht, our intention being to pass as close to windward of her and as
slowly as possible, and to try and pick up the stranger with the
lifebelt, for any attempt at luffing would entail great risks to us
should the "Fortuna" drift or fall foul of the almost waterlogged
craft.
It seemed but a few seconds before we were again abreast of the
disabled yacht. My uncle, springing on to the lee bulwarks and
steadying himself with his left hand round the shrouds, poised the
lifebelt with his right, and prepared to make a cast.
"Jump for it! We'll pick you up!" shouted the men in a chorus, for we
were passing within a few yards of the stranger.
The man stood upright, and made ready to spring, but at the crucial
moment he hesitated, and the opportunity had passed. Even as he
returned to his former position in the cockpit, the little craft
flung her stern high out of the water, and with a splash and a
turmoil of escaping air she disappeared beneath the waves.
There was a general groan of dismay from the crew; then suddenly I
heard my father shout, "What's that man doing? Stop him, you
fellows!" But, before any one could raise a hand, one of the crew had
torn off his oilskins, flung a lifebelt overboard, and had plunged in
after it.
Instantly there was a rush towards the whaler. The crew stood by the
falls and waited for the order; but my father, glancing at the
mountainous waves, bade them desist.
"They must take their chance," he shouted. "The boat could never live
in such a sea. Up aloft one of you and keep a bright look-out. Lee,
ho! Hard down with your helm!"
The "Fortuna" flung about on the other tack, and with the ropes
coiled ready to throw to their comrade and the unfortunate yachtsman,
our crew anxiously awaited their opportunity.
One man with the agility of a monkey had swung himself aloft, and was
perched on the crosstrees. He shouted, but his voice was inaudible,
though by his gestures we knew that one at least of the men had been
sighted.
"Bear away a bit! Steady!"
Following the direction indicated by the look-out, I saw a dark
object on the crest of a wave. The next moment it was lost to sight
in the trough, but on the summit of the next roller I could make out
the head and shoulders of the yachtsman encircled by the lifebelt,
and our brave seaman steadying himself with one hand on the belt and
keeping afloat as unconcernedly as if in a swimming bath.
"Bear away a bit more! Stand by there, men!" shouted my father. "Be
sharp with those bowlines and haul them up roundly directly they
catch them!"
"Let's hope the poor fellow has strength to hold on," he added to
his brother. "I am afraid we are carrying too much way; yet if we
luff her, she will roll over on top of them and crush their skulls
like egg-shells."
"We must risk it. It's their only chance," replied my uncle.
"Very well, then, I will," said my father, and, raising his voice, he
gave the order: "Luff her up!"
Quivering like a wounded animal, the "Fortuna" ran up into the wind,
with sufficient way to bring, her up to the two well-nigh exhausted
men. One of the crew stationed at the main chains threw a bowline. It
missed, but the second was more successful, for it fell over the
shoulders of the stranger, and as the man paid out the line
handsomely a wave swept the unfortunate man against the ship's side,
raising him to within reach of half-a-dozen willing hands on deck. At
the same instant his rescuer grasped the bowline, and, with great
presence of mind, thrust his feet through the loop, and amid the
cheers of the crew both men were hauled over the side.
"Take both of them down to the saloon," said my father, "and tell
Johnston to get some hot water ready as soon as possible."
"Fire's out, sir," replied one of the crew. "We had to unship the
galley funnel."
"Then re-ship the funnel, and rig preventer stays to it. Should it be
carried away it can't be helped; if not, so much the better."
"Very good, sir."
"And what's this man's name?" asked my parent, indicating the gallant
rescuer, who was being assisted down the companion.
"Lewis, sir; Bill Lewis."
"Capital fellow! Capital fellow!" exclaimed my father; and, having
seen that the "Fortuna" once more lay on her proper course, he went
down into the saloon, I following him.
The excitement of the last half-hour had driven away all feelings of
sea-sickness, and, strangely enough, I felt no discomfort at being in
the cabin. The rescued yachtsman was lying motionless on one of the
berths, his body enveloped in blankets. I noticed that there was a
clean cut on his cheek, extending from the right ear nearly to the
chin, which had bled freely; and I also remarked that his hands,
though hardened by manual labour, were well cared for. Apparently he
had not swallowed much sea water, for he was sleeping soundly as if
tired out with sheer exhaustion.
His rescuer, Lewis, was little the worse for his gallant efforts, and
was sitting awkwardly in a deck chair as if out of place in the
saloon of a yacht. He rose as my father entered the cabin, and
shuffled with his feet in his embarrassment.
"I am proud of you, Lewis!" exclaimed my father, shaking him by the
hand.
"'Twas nothing, sir."
"It was a gallant deed."
"May be, sir; but I didn't stop to think. If I did I mightn't have
gone overboard."
"I'll not forget it, Lewis. I hope to send a report of your bravery
to the proper quarter at the first opportunity. Is there anything I
can do for you now?"
"No, sir, not as I knows of. Leastways, I'd like to go for'ard and
have a pipe. I'm just longing for a draw."
"Certainly, Lewis; but how did you get that bruise?" added the pater,
noticing the man's eye, which was considerably damaged and rapidly
turning a greenish black.
"While I was in the water, sir. Directly I saw the gent yonder I swam
for him, pushing the lifebelt afore me. Then I bore in mind the
instructions for saving drowning persons, to assure him with a loud
and firm voice that he was safe, though I'll allow my voice didn't
strike me as being particularly loud and firm, and neither did I feel
so very sure that he was safe. However, I did as was directed, and,
getting up behind him, I tugged at his hair to turn him on his back.
It's all very fine a-laying down regulations for saving a man, but I
reckon the fellow as wrote 'em never had to do the trick hisself, for
directly I laid hold of the young gent he twists round somehow and
plugs me in the eye. So I had to let go, and down he went again. The
next time he came up I pitched the belt over his head, and he grabbed
at it like grim death.
"After a bit he quieted down somewhat, and I took hold of the
lifebelt too, as I began to feel done up. There was no sign of the
ship, and I thought she had missed us and that I had lost the number
of my mess; but soon afterwards I saw her bearing down, and we were
taken aboard."
"Well, let's be thankful it's no worse," remarked my father, smiling.
"Now cut away for'ard and enjoy your smoke, and tell the bos'n that
it's your watch below to-night."
"Thank'ee, sir," said Lewis, saluting and backing out of the saloon
as if thankful for his release.
In obedience to an order, three of the seamen carried the still
sleeping yachtsman into my cabin and placed him in bed.
"He'll be comfortable there, Reggie," remarked the pater. "And you
can sleep on the spare bunk in my cabin to-night. To-morrow we may no
doubt hear an interesting story of his adventures. Now, tell Johnston
to hurry up with the dinner."