With the exception of the gale spoken of in the last chapter, the
_Primrose_ had enjoyed fine weather for the greater part of the passage.
But dark, heavy clouds now rolled across the sky; the wind blew
fiercely, and the seas rose up in mountainous billows, such as Peter had
never before beheld. The wind, however, was fair, and with her
after-sails furled, and closely-reefed topsails only set, the ship flew
on before it. As Peter stood on deck he watched sea after sea rolling
up astern and threatening to break on board, but with a loud roar, just
as they reached her, their foaming summits came hissing down, and she
glided up the side of a huge billow ahead. For an instant she seemed to
hang on the top of the watery ridge, and then slid down into another
valley, up the opposite side of which she climbed as before.
She had thus run for some distance when the wind dropped, and she lay
rolling in the trough of the still heavy sea. The sky overhead was dark
and lowering, a drizzling rain fell, and the air was oppressive. The
captain and officers looked anxious. They had cause to be so, for
suddenly the wind again rose, now blowing from one quarter, now from
another, and all hands were kept on deck ready to brace round the yards
as might be required. For several days no observation had been taken,
and old Hixon told Peter that he feared the ship had been driven
considerably out of her course.
"Will the captain soon be able to get an observation to steer the right
way?" asked Peter.
"If the sky clears he may, but I have known it to remain like this for
days and weeks together, and though Captain Hauslar is as good a seamen
as I should wish to sail with, he may be out in his reckoning, and there
are some ugly rocks and shoals to the eastward, which on a dark night it
is a hard matter to see till one is right upon them," answered old
Hixon.
After the ship had been knocking about for some days, the wind again
came fair, though somewhat strong, and the captain, anxious to make up
for the long delay, and hoping to escape all dangers, with the ship
under moderate canvas steered to the eastward, ordering a bright
look-out to be kept. The middle watch had been called, and the fresh
look-outs, rubbing their eyes, had just gone to their posts. It was
Hixon's turn at the wheel. Peter, who was in the same watch, followed
him aft, for the old man had undertaken to give him lessons in steering.
As he stood by his side he frequently quoted passages of Scripture from
his Bible, and sometimes, by the light of the binnacle lamp, he referred
to the book, and read long portions.
Hixon having just received the course from the man he relieved had taken
hold of the spokes, when there came a sharp cry from the look-out
forward, of "Breakers ahead!" followed quickly by "Land! land!"
"Down with the helm!" shouted the officer of the watch. "All hands on
deck; brace up the yards!"
Almost before the ship's course could be altered, a fearful blow was
felt, which made the masts quiver and the ship tremble from stem to
stern--another and another followed. The sea dashed up wildly over her,
throwing her on her beam ends; then came a fearful crash, and the tall
masts fell over her side towards the dark rocks which rose close to her.
The captain and all below had rushed on deck. Awakened suddenly out of
their sleep they stood aghast, expecting instant death. Some seemed to
have lost their senses and cried wildly for help. The captain took his
post by the companion-hatch, gazing around and considering what orders
to issue.
Hixon, when he found that all hope of the ship moving off the rock was
gone, quitted the helm, and seizing Peter dragged him to the weather
bulwarks. The next instant loud shrieks were heard. A tremendous sea
washing across the deck had carried several of the crew overboard,
sweeping some away as it receded, and dashing others against the rocks.
The stern, which had been driven furthest in, afforded the most secure
place. The captain shouted to the crew to come aft; some heard him, but
the roaring of the breakers drowned his voice. Sea after sea struck the
devoted ship, and the crashing sound which followed each blow showed
that she was breaking up. Still the darkness was so great, and so
fiercely did the waters rage between the ship and the shore, that
destruction appeared to await any who might attempt to reach it.
Already the stern of the ship was quivering under the blows of the
fierce seas.
"Hold on where you are, Peter," said Hixon; "I will try if there's any
way of getting on shore."
"But you may be washed off," said Peter.
"My life is worth little," said the old man, "I am not afraid to die
now, and I may, if I succeed, help to save others."
Fastening a rope round his waist which he secured to a ring-bolt in the
deck, he struggled to the side of the ship nearest the shore. Peter
could no longer distinguish him.
The captain was standing still, undecided what to do, with the
third-mate and five or six seamen who had succeeded in getting aft, when
old Hixon was seen making his way along the deck from amid the mass of
wreck which cumbered it.
"The foot of the mainmast still hangs to the ship and the head rests on
a rock," he said; "what is beyond I cannot tell, it may be water or it
may be land, but the sea does not break over it; it is our only chance
if we can manage to reach it."
"Well, lads, we had better follow old Hixon's advice," said the captain.
"Those who wish it can go."
The mate and the other men hung back.
"Come, Peter," said Hixon, "you and I will set the example then. To my
mind the ship won't hold together many minutes longer; and if we
succeed, as I think we shall, they will follow if there's time. I'll go
sir," he cried to the captain, and grasping Peter, he led him along,
holding on to the rope. They reached the mast, when Peter, keeping
close to his companion, scrambled up it. Alone he felt that he might
have been unable to succeed, but supported by his old friend he made his
way along the mast, which all the time was swayed up and down by the
movement of the ship. He feared lest it should be hurled from its
position, and the rest might be unable to escape by it.
They gained a rugged rock of some extent, but the water washed round
them and the spray occasionally flew over their heads. They were still
at a distance from the mainland, but for the moment safer than on board
the ship. They shouted as loud as they could to induce the rest to
follow them. Every instant they feared that the mast would give way.
Again and again they shouted. At last they caught sight of some one
moving along the mast. He reached them, and it proved to be Emery, the
black steward.
"Are the rest coming?" asked Peter eagerly.
"Hope so; captain tell us to come first," was the answer; and soon
afterwards Bill the cook made his way to the rock. They all shouted
together to give notice of their safe passage. At length several seamen
were seen creeping along the mast, one after the other, as fast as they
could move.
"The ship is breaking up fast!" said one of them; "and if the skipper
don't make haste he will be lost."
"Oh, I wish you had all come at once!" cried Peter. "I'll go back and
hasten him."
"No, no, boy; you will lose your life if you do!" said Hixon. "It's his
own fault if he delays."
"That is no reason why we should not try to get him to come," said
Peter.
"You are right, boy," cried Hixon, "but if any one goes, I'll go."
Hixon was just getting on the mast, when he exclaimed that the skipper
and mate were coming along it. At that moment the end of the mast began
to rise. Hixon threw himself off it.
"Stand clear of the rigging," cried several voices. The mast moved more
rapidly, the end lifting up in the air, then with a crash came down on
the rock, against which it was at once violently dashed by a sea which
broke over the wreck. One of the poor fellows who had escaped was
dragged off into the seething waters.
"The captain is gone," cried several voices.
"I see a man close at hand," said Peter. "Will any one pass a rope
round my waist? I am sure I could clutch him."
There were several ropes scattered about the rock. Old Hixon did not
hear Peter, but two or three of the other men did. One of them fastened
a rope as he requested. While they held on, Peter sprung off from the
rock into the water close to where the person he saw was floating. He
clutched him tightly. The next sea which came roaring up would have
clashed him against the rock, and his burden must have been torn from
him had not his companions, roused by the example set by the young boy,
whom they had been in the habit of laughing at, rushed forward and
dragged them both up together.
"It is the captain," cried one. "But I am afraid he is gone," exclaimed
another.
"No! I trust he is still alive," said Peter, sitting down by the
captain's side, and taking his head on his lap. "He is breathing; he
will come to, I hope."
Peter rubbed the captain's chest while the steward and Bill moved his
arms gently up and down. He uttered a groan; it showed that he was in
pain, and had been injured against the rocks, but it was an encouraging
sign. They persevered, and at length the captain spoke in a low voice,
asking where he was.
"You are safe on a rock," answered Emery. "We shall know better when
sun rise."
Just then a voice was heard at no great distance, shouting.