A GREAT CATASTROPHE
THE next few days were spent in making final preparations for the
"Fortuna's" passage to the open sea. By the removal of her ballast,
and partial emptying of the water-tanks, her draught was reduced to 8
feet 6 inches.
Fenders and some stout trunks of palm-trees were lashed alongside and
underneath her bilges to prevent damage in the event of the yacht
touching bottom, and hawsers were prepared to warp her through the
narrow opening in the reef.
Meanwhile a party of men under Uncle Herbert's directions had bored
and prepared a chamber in the rock to receive nearly the whole of the
remaining blasting powder, a small quantity being retained to form a
"necklace"--to use the professional term--to assist in the complete
dismemberment of the rock.
The work of placing the charge into the receptacle was performed by
my uncle, as he preferred to take the risk alone. At dead low water
springs the lagoon still remaining tidal, he took the gig, with its
dangerous freight, and rowed close to the low cliff that formed the
barrier between the lagoon and the open sea. Working quickly, yet
cautiously, he transferred the blasting powder to the chamber, and
placed a double necklace in two parallel lines in grooves over the
tongue of rock. The charge was to be fired by means of a time fuse,
the length of the period between the lighting of the fuse and the
explosion being timed at twenty minutes. A quarter of a mile off lay
the whaler, well equipped with sounding lines and rods to take the
depths of the newly formed channel, and the crew anxiously awaited
the appearance of the gig.
Three hours after low water the fuse was lit, and my uncle rowed back
to the whaler. All eyes were fixed on the spot where the explosion
was to take place, and every one who possessed a watch consulted it
with feverish attention.
The twenty minutes passed, yet no explosion occurred. Five more
minutes, and still no result. We began to get anxious, and my father
and his brother exchanged grave looks. At the expiration of half an
hour they came to the conclusion that the fuse, by some means or the
other, had been extinguished, and Uncle Herbert proposed to row back
and find out the cause.
"No, no," replied my father. "Give it an hour at the very least," and
reluctantly my uncle agreed to defer his visit to the scene of his
failure.
Directly the hour was up he rowed towards the little channel, taking
two more fuses with him, but hardly had he completed half the
distance when a column of smoke and dust rose into the air, followed
by a deep roar. Masses of rock flew in all directions, some falling
close to the gig.
"Give way, lads!" shouted the bos'n excitedly, and, bending to their
oars with a will, the men urged the whaler through the water at a
great pace, the heavy boat overtaking the gig before Uncle Herbert
had reached the opening of the little creek, much to his chagrin.
At the head of this creek, where formerly the tongue of hard rock had
been, a channel twenty feet in width communicated with the sea, and
already the flood tide was swirling through. With a loud cheer, the
men pulled towards the gap.
"Easy now," said the bos'n; "there might still be shallow water"; and
with the blades of the oars almost touching the walls of rock on
either side, the whaler breasted the tide and gained the deep water
beyond.
Here we anchored, and, paying out a long grass warp, the boat was
allowed to drift back into the channel, where, by careful soundings,
a depth of not less than one fathom was found throughout its entire
length. The action of the explosive had not only blown away the rock,
but had excavated a trench with an almost even bottom.
"Two hours more to slack water," said the bos'n, consulting his
watch. "We shan't get her out this tide, sir. Do you propose to try
tonight?"
"No, I prefer to see what we are up to, unless it is absolutely
necessary. How long will it be before the springs begin to slacken,
do you think?"
"Two days at the most, sir."
"Very well; we'll make an attempt to-morrow."
Shortly after low water on the following day, the "Fortuna" weighed
anchor, and with a man at the masthead to look out for shoals, and
the motor softly humming, she forged slowly ahead through the calm
waters of the lagoon, rolling sluggishly with the lessened draught.
On approaching the gully, two warps were laid out from the bows, one
on either side, and held ashore by a party of men, and, the motor
having stopped running, the yacht was slowly and carefully warped
into the natural channel. Directly she was safely inside, two more
warps were led from her quarters, so that those on shore had her in
perfect control, only the bos'n and four seamen remaining on board.
At a snail's pace the "Fortuna" was headed for the cut that had
recently been blasted, and here the yacht was made fast to await high
water.
The flood now made slowly through the cutting, but, held securely by
the warps, the "Fortuna" breasted the current without yawing in the
eddies that swirled on either side, while my father, giving frequent
glances to a rough tide-gauge, awaited the critical moment in which
to make the attempt.
Gradually the current slackened, till it was barely perceptible, and
the signal was given to continue warping. With a cheery "Yo-ho!" all
the hands ashore, including the doctor and myself, bent to their
task, and the "Fortuna" started on her final bid for freedom.
Suddenly there was a slight jar, and the yacht, trembling like a live
creature, brought up. With feverish anxiety, my father jumped into
the gig, which had already been brought through the gap, and examined
the water around the yacht's bows. A rough sounding gave him five
fathoms, while aft, where she had taken ground, there was not one and
a half fathoms.
"We must move her," he shouted. "If she's caught on a falling tide on
the ledge, she'll break her back."
"Tide's ebbing already, sir," exclaimed the bos'n. "Send every man
aboard and start the motor. 'Tis a last chance."
With the utmost haste we jumped into the boats and boarded the
"Fortuna," and, leaving one man as boat-keeper, every available
member of the crew, gathered on the fo'c'sle, all jumping in time to
help to free the yacht from the tenacious ledge.
The motor was set running, at full speed, and the bos'n alone
remained aft at the wheel.
"Altogether; shake her up!" was the cry, and we all jumped with
renewed energy. There was a dull grating sound, and the "Fortuna,"
slipping off the rock, glided into deep water and headed with
increasing speed towards the open sea.
In obedience to an order the men rushed aft, for the propeller was
almost out of the water, while Mr. Wilkins had the greatest
difficulty in keeping the yacht on her course; nor did she bring up
till she had passed without the natural breakwaters and over the
patch of deep water.
As she passed the whaler and the gig, the boat-keeper had dexterously
thrown a line on board, and both boats were safely in tow of the
yacht.
A sounding gave five fathoms, and the anchors were let go, and the
"Fortuna" was safely moored well clear of the dangerous reef.
"There's no time to be lost, sir," said the bos'n. "We are in an
exposed berth, and a gale might spring up at an hour's notice."
"That's true," replied my father. "And though the glass is steady, I
prefer to take no risks. It's a pity, though, that we are so far from
shore."
"It's as near as we can lie in safety, sir. There's foul ground close
to the reef, and the deep water between it and the bank on which
we've brought up is far too deep to anchor in. There's no bottom at a
hundred fathoms.
"Another freak of nature, I suppose. However, we must make the best
of things. Pipe away both boats, if you please, Mr. Wilkins, and
we'll start loading up at once."
Delighted with their success, the crew worked with a will, and both
boats put off for the lagoon to load up the silver pigs and
money-chests, only my father, Dr. Conolly, Yadillah, and myself
remaining on the yacht.
In a little over two hours' time we saw them returning through the
cutting. The whaler, deeply laden with its precious cargo, was
leading, the gig, also carrying some of the specie, being towed
astern, with only one man to steer.
"I don't like the look of that boat," remarked the doctor, pointing
to the whaler. "She's far too deep in the water."
"Oh, it's safe enough," replied my father. "The sea's calm, and,
besides, Wilkins knows what he's about."
We continued watching the progress of the boats as they slowly
approached the "Fortuna." They had cleared the seaward arms of the
natural breakwaters, and were entering the dark-blue patch that
indicated the deep water, when about a hundred or two hundred yards
off a column of water flew up in the air, and amidst the descending
spray a huge black shape appeared above the surface. "A whale!"
exclaimed my father and the doctor simultaneously.
"I hope it won't attack the boats," added Dr. Conolly.
"I think not. I've never known or heard of a whale attacking a boat
unless when struck by a harpoon."
"You haven't? Begorra!" exclaimed the doctor excitedly, bursting into
a Hibernian expression for the first time during his stay on the
yacht. "Then ye'll see it now."
As he spoke the whale made directly for the boats as if it recognized
in the whaler the shape of an enemy.
With a furious exclamation, my father sprang towards the Q.-F., which
happened to be uncovered, and, wrenching open the breech-block,
thrust a cartridge into the chamber; then, placing his shoulder
against the shoulder-piece, he swung the gun round towards the
advancing monster, but before his finger could touch the trigger the
doctor grasped his arm and forcibly dragged him away.
"We can do nothing," he muttered grimly. "See, the boats are already
in the line of fire." My father, realizing that the discharge of the
gun would result in the destruction of the boats in addition to the
annihilation of the whale, rushed to the side and awaited the
inevitable onslaught.
With great rapidity the huge monster made straight for its prey, and
from the boats shouts and cries of terror arose when the men became
aware of their peril. Some of the crew stood up, brandishing their
oars, to offer a puny resistance to the oncoming mass of animal
energy, others jumped overboard, and swam in all directions, while
the bos'n, with admirable presence of mind, drew his knife and cut
the painter that led from the stern of the whaler to the gig.
The next instant the whale seemed to lift its ponderous carcass clear
of the water; then, diving deeply beneath the downed boat, it struck
it an irresistible blow with its massive tail.
A shower of splinters and spray rose in the air, and amidst a
veritable maelstrom, the whaler, with its priceless freight,
disappeared beneath the waves, and the troubled water was dotted with
the heads of the swimmers and a jumble of floating oars and pieces of
broken wood.
The bulk of the treasure of the "San Philipo" was irrecoverably
lost.
Satisfied with the mischief it had wrought, the whale had
disappeared. The crew of the lost boat swam towards the gig, and
several began climbing over the low sides of the deeply laden little
craft.
"Why, if they are not careful, they'll sink her, too," exclaimed my
father in blank despair, but, fortunately, the swimmers realised the
risk, for, taking hold of the gunwales and lightly supporting
themselves, they allowed the men who had already clambered on board
to take the oars, and the gig made slowly for the "Fortuna."
Happening to look towards Dr. Conolly, I noticed he had his eyes
fixed on the boat and was counting in an audible voice "... eight,
nine, ten, eleven," and simultaneously the awful truth flashed in our
minds--there was one man missing.
"Surely not!" exclaimed my father in a horrified voice. "Surely not!
Count again, Conolly. Perhaps we cannot see every one. Isn't that a
man's head just showing above the boat's quarter?"
"... nine, ten, eleven."
There was no mistake in the numbers. Another man had gone to his last
account, and who was it? Not my uncle; he was in the water, holding
on to the side of the boat; nor the bos'n, nor Lord, the
quartermaster. Dailey, Stainer, and Mills were in the boat. Hinks,
Money, Lewis, Burbidge, and Alec Johnston, they were safe. Then only
Joe Dirham remained to be accounted for.
"Where's Dirham?" shouted my father as the boat crept alongside and
was made fast.
"Gone, sir," replied the survivors in a chorus. "Dragged down by the
whaler as she sank."
The men came in over the side, and the gig, with four of the boxes of
specie, was hauled up in the davits, and despondently, the crew went
for'ard to change their saturated garments.
For a while my father remained lost in thought, gazing blankly at the
spot where the whaler had sunk, the blue now peaceful and unruffled.
At length, overcome by the bitterness of his emotion, he turned on
his heel and sought the solitude of his cabin.
But pressing work had to be done. The whole of the iron ballast,
including the quantity which we had hoped would be supplanted by the
pigs of silver, had to be replaced with the utmost dispatch; the
water tanks had to be refilled, and stores procured from the island.
Working day and night in relays, the crew accomplished their task
within forty hours, and the "Fortuna" was ready for her long homeward
voyage.