One evening Miss Gentle and rotund little Mr Blurt were seated on two
camp-stools near the stern, conversing occasionally and gazing in a
dreamy frame of mind at the milky-way over which they appeared to
travel.
"I wonder much, Miss Gentle," said Mr Blurt, "that you were not more
afraid during that gale we had just before crossing the line?"
"I was a good deal afraid, though perhaps I did not show it. Your
remark," she added, with an arch glance at her companion, "induces me to
express some surprise that you seemed so much afraid."
"Afraid!" echoed Mr Blurt, with a smile; "why, I wasn't afraid--eh! was
I?"
"I beg pardon," hastily explained Miss Gentle, "I don't mean frightened,
of course; perhaps I should have said alarmed, or agitated--"
"Agitated!" cried Mr Blurt, pulling off his hat, and rubbing his bald
head--he was prematurely bald, being only forty, though he looked like
fifty--"agitated! Well, Miss Gentle, if you had diamonds--"
He stopped short, and looked at his companion with a confused smile.
"Diamonds, Mr Blurt," said Miss Gentle, slightly surprised; "what do
you mean?"
"Well--ha! hem!" said the other, rubbing his forehead; "I see no reason
why I should make a mystery of it. Since I have mentioned the thing, I
may as well say that a man who happens to have a packet of diamonds in
the mail-bags worth about twenty thousand pounds, may well be excused
showing some little agitation lest the ship containing them should go to
the bottom."
"I don't quite see that," returned Miss Gentle. "If the owner is on
board, and goes to the bottom with his diamonds, it does not matter to
_him_, does it?"
"Ah!" said Mr Blurt, "it is the inconsiderateness of youth which
prompts that speech. (Miss Gentle looked about twenty, though she was
in reality twenty-seven!) Do you think I have no anxiety for any one
but myself? Suppose I have a wife and family in England who are
dependent on these diamonds."
"Ah! that did not occur to me," returned the lady.
"Have you any objection to become a confidante?" asked Mr Blurt.
"None whatever," replied Miss Gentle, laughing.
"Well, then, to let you understand my feelings, I shall explain. I have
a brother--a dear little fellow like mys--ah, excuse me; I did not mean
_dear_ like myself, but _little_. Well, he is a naturalist. He lives
in London, and is not a very successful naturalist; indeed, I may say
that he is an unfortunate and poor naturalist. Last year he failed. I
sent him a small sum of money. He failed again. I sent him more money.
Being a successful diamond-merchant, you see, I could afford to do so.
We are both bachelors; my brother being much older than I am. At last I
resolved to send home my whole fortune, and return to live with him,
after winding up my affairs. I did so: made up my diamonds into a
parcel, and sent it by mail as being the most secure method. Just after
doing this, I got a letter informing me of my brother being dangerously
ill, and begging me to come to England without delay. I packed up at
once, left my partner to wind up the business, and so, here I am, on
board the very steamer that carries my diamonds to England."
"How curious--and how interesting," said the sympathetic Miss Gentle.
Whatever more she intended to say was checked by a large parti-coloured
ball hitting her on the cheek, and falling into her lap. It was
followed up and captured with a shriek by the two little Todses and the
three little Podses. At the same moment the gong sounded for tea. Thus
the conversation came to a close.
The voyage of the _Trident_--with the exception of the gale before
referred to--was prosperous until her arrival in the waters of the
northern hemisphere. By that time the passengers had crystallised into
groups, the nobodies and self-forgetting-bodies fraternised, and became
more and more friendly as time went on. The uproarious-bodies got up
concerts and charades. The hatred of Pods for Tods intensified. The
arrogance of Major Beak, and the good-natured modesty of Mr Bright,
increased. The noise of Dr Bassoon made the manner of Mr Silky quite
agreeable by contrast, while the pride of Lady Tower and Mr Stiff
formed a fine, deep-shade to the neutral tint of Miss Gentle, and the
high-light of Miss Squeaker.
Gradually, however, feelings began to modify. The squalls and breezes
that ruffled the human breasts on board the _Trident_ moderated in exact
proportion as that vessel penetrated and experienced the storms of what
should have been named the _in_-temperate zone.
At last they drew near to the shores of Old England, and then there
burst upon them a nor-wester, so violent that within the first hour the
close-reefed topsails were blown to ribbons, and the foretopmast, with
the jib-boom, was carried away. Of course this was a comparatively
small matter in a steamer, but when it was afterwards discovered that
the vessel had sprung a leak, things began to look more serious.
"It's only a trifle, Miss Gentle; don't alarm yourself. We can put that
to rights in a few minutes," said Major Beak, with the confident air of
a man whose nautical education had begun with Noah, and continued
uninterruptedly down to the present time.
"He's a hooked-nosed humbug, Miss Gentle, an' knows nothing about it,"
growled the captain.
"Water rising rapidly in the hold, sir," said the carpenter, coming aft
and touching his cap.
"Rig the pumps," said the captain, and the pumps were rigged. What is
more to the purpose, they were wrought with a will by the crew; but in
spite of their efforts the water continued to rise.
It might have done a student of human nature good to have observed the
effect of this information on the passengers. Regarded as a whole the
little world became perceptibly paler in the cheeks, and strikingly
moderate in tone of voice and manner. Major Beak, in particular, began
to talk low, and made no reference whatever to nautical matters, while
Mrs Pods looked amiably--almost affectionately--at Mrs Tods.
Of course the passengers observed with breathless interest the action of
the captain at this crisis. That important personage did his best to
stop the leak, but only succeeded in checking it, and it required the
constant exertions of the crew night and day at the pumps to reduce the
water in the hold even by an inch. In these circumstances the young men
among the passengers readily volunteered their services to assist the
crew.
The gale continued and steadily increased. At night the ladies, and
such of the passengers as were not employed at the pumps, retired to the
cabin. Some of those who did not realise the danger of the situation
went to bed. Others sat up in the saloon and consoled each other as
best they might.
Morning came, but with it came no abatement of the storm. Water and sky
seemed mingled together, and were of one uniform tone. It was obvious
that the men at the pumps were utterly exhausted, and worst of all the
water was beginning to gain slowly on them. The elderly men were now
called on to help. It became necessary that all should work for their
lives. Miss Bluestocking, who was muscular as well as masculine, rose
to the occasion, and suggested that the ladies, so to speak, should man
the pumps. Her suggestion was not acted on.
At this point Mr Bright, who had been toiling night and day like an
inexhaustible giant, suggested that music might be called in to aid
their flagging powers. It was well known that fatigued soldiers on a
march are greatly re-invigorated by the band. Major Beak, soaking from
head to foot with salt water, almost blind with fatigue and want of
sleep, and with the perspiration dropping from the point of his enormous
nose, plucked up heart to raise himself and assert that that was true.
He further suggested that Colonel Blare might play to them on the
cornet. But Colonel Blare was incapable by that time of playing even on
a penny trumpet. Dr Bassoon was reduced so low as to be obliged to
half whisper his incapacity to sing bass, and as for the great tenor,
Lieutenant Limp--a piece of tape was stiffer than his backbone.
"Let the ladies sing to us," sighed Mr Fiery, who was mere milk and
water by that time. "I'm sure that Mrs Tods and Mrs Pods would be--"
A united shriek of protest from those ladies checked him.
"Or Miss Troolove," suggested Mr Blurt, on whose stout person the
labour told severely.
The lady appealed to, after a little hesitation, began a hymn, but the
time was found to be too slow, while the voice, although sweet and true,
was too weak.
"Come, let us have one of the `Christy Minstrels'," cried Mr Bright in
a lively tone. "I'm certain Miss Mist can sing one."
Poor Miss Mist was almost hysterical with fear and prolonged anxiety,
but she was an obliging creature. On being assured that the other
ladies would support her, she struck up the "Land of Dixey," and was
joined in the chorus with so much spirit that those who laboured at the
pumps felt like giants refreshed. Explain it how we may, there can be
no question that lively music has a wonderful power of sustaining the
energies of mankind. With the return of cheerful sensations there
revived in some of them the sense of the ludicrous, and it was all that
they could do to refrain from laughter as they looked at the forlorn
females huddled together, wrapped in rugs and cloaks, drenched to the
skin, almost blown from their seats, ghastly with watching and fear,
solemn-visaged in the last degree, and yet singing "Pop goes the
weasel," and similar ditties, with all the energy of despair.
We paint no fanciful picture. We describe facts, and there is no saying
how far the effect of that music might have helped in the saving of the
ship, had not an event occurred which rendered further efforts
unnecessary.
The captain, who had either lost his reckoning or his head, or both, was
seen to apply himself too frequently to a case-bottle in the cabin, and
much anxiety began to be felt as to his capacity to manage the vessel.
Owing, also, to the length of time that thick weather had prevailed, no
reliable observation had been obtained for several days. While the
anxiety was at its height, there came a sudden and terrible shock, which
caused the good ship to tremble. Then, for the first time, the roar of
breakers was heard above the howling of the storm. As if to increase
the horror of the scene, the fog lifted and revealed towering cliffs
close ahead of them.
The transition from a comparatively hopeful state to one of absolute
despair was overwhelming. The wild waves lifted the great hull of the
vessel and let it down on the rocks with another crash, sending the
masts over the side, while the passengers could only shriek in agony and
cling to the wreck. Fortunately, in taking the ground, the vessel had
kept straight, so that the forepart formed a comparative shelter from
the waves that were fast breaking up the stern.
In the midst of all this confusion the first mate and Mr Bright seemed
to keep quite cool. Between them they loaded and fired the bow
signal-guns several times, by which means they brought a few fishermen
and coastguard-men to the scene of disaster. And among these, as we
have seen, were our heroes, Philip Maylands and George Aspel.
On arriving, these two found that the rocket apparatus was being set up
on the beach.
"Phil," said Aspel in a quick low voice, "they'll want the lifeboat, and
the wind carries the sound of their guns in the wrong direction. Run
round, lad, and give the alarm. There's not a moment to lose."
The boy turned to run without a word of reply, but he could not help
observing, as he turned, the compressed lips, the expanding nostrils,
and the blazing eyes of his friend, who almost quivered with suppressed
excitement.
For some time George Aspel stood beside the men of the coastguard while
they set up their apparatus and fired the rocket. To offer assistance,
he knew, would only retard them. The first rocket was carried to the
right of the vessel, which was now clearly visible. The second went to
the other side. There was a reef of rocks on that side which lay a few
yards farther out from the beach than the wreck. Over this reef the
rocket-line fell and got entangled. Part of the shore-end of the
apparatus also broke down. While the men were quickly repairing it
Aspel said in a hurried manner:--"I'll clear the rocket-line," and away
he darted like a greyhound.
"Hold ha-a-rd! foolish fellow, you'll be drownded," roared one of the
men.
But Aspel heeded him not. Another minute and he was far away on the
ledge of rock jutting out from a high cape--the point of which formed
the outlying reef above referred to. He was soon at the extremity of
the ledge beyond which nearly a hundred yards of seething foam heaved
between him and the reef. In he plunged without a moment's halt. Going
with the rush of the waves through the channel he struck diagonally
across, and landed on the reef. Every billow swept over it, but not
with sufficient force to prevent his struggling towards the rocket-line,
which he eventually reached and cleared.
"Wasn't that nately done!" cried an enthusiastic young fisherman on the
beach; "but, och! what is he up to now?"
A few seconds sufficed to give an answer to his question. Instead of
letting go the line and returning, young Aspel tied it round his waist,
and ran or waded to the extreme edge of the reef which was nearest to
the wreck. The vessel lay partially to leeward of him now, with not
much space between, but that space was a very whirlpool of tormented
waves. Aspel gave no moment to thought. In his then state of mind he
would have jumped down the throat of a cannon. Next instant he was
battling with the billows, and soon reached the ship; but now his danger
was greatest, for the curling waves threw him so violently against the
side of the wreck that he almost lost consciousness and missed the
lifebuoy which, with a rope attached, had been thrown to him by the
anxious crew.
A great cry of anxiety arose at this, but Mr Bright had anticipated it,
and the first mate was ready to aid him. Leaping into the sea with a
rope round his waist, Mr Bright caught Aspel as he struggled past. The
mate's powerful hands held them both fast. Some of the crew lent a
ready hand, and in a few seconds George Aspel was hauled on board. He
had quite recovered by that time, and replied with a smile to the
ringing cheer that greeted him. The cheer was echoed again and again by
the men on shore. Major Beak attempted to grasp his hand, but failed.
Mr Blurt, feeling an irresistible impulse, tried to embrace him, but
was thrust aside, fell, and rolled into the lee-scuppers.
Scattering the people aside Aspel sprang on the bulwarks at the bow,
and, snatching Mr Stiff's travelling-cap from his head, held it up as a
signal to the men on shore.
Well did the youth know what to do in the circumstances, for many a time
had he talked it over with the men of the coastguard in former days. On
receiving an answering signal from the shore he began to haul on the
rocket-line. The men in charge had fastened to it a block, or pulley,
with two tails to it; a line was rove through this block. The instant
the block reached his hands Aspel sprang with it to the stump of the
foremast, and looking round cried, "Who'll lend a--"
"Here you are," said Mr Bright, embracing the mast with both arms and
stooping,--for Mr Bright also knew well what to do.
George Aspel leaped on his shoulders and stood up. Mr Bright then
raised himself steadily, and thus the former was enabled to tie the
block by its two tails to the mast at a height of about eleven feet.
The line rove through the block was the "whip," which was to be
manipulated by those on shore. It was a double, and, of course, an
endless line.
Again the signal was given as before, and the line began to run. Very
soon a stout hawser or cable was seen coming out to the wreck. Aspel
fastened the end of this to the mast several feet below the pulley.
A third time the signal was given.
"Now then, ladies, stand by to go ashore, and let's have no hesitation.
It's life or death with us all," said the mate in a voice so stern that
the crowd of anxious and somewhat surprised females prepared to obey.
Presently a ring-shaped lifebuoy, with something like a pair of short
breeches dangling from it, came out from the shore, suspended to a block
which traversed on the cable, and was hauled out by means of the whip.
A seaman was ordered to get into it. Mrs Tods, who stood beside the
mate, eyeing the process somewhat curiously, felt herself firmly but
gently seized.
"Come, Mrs Tods, step into it. He'll take care of you--no fear."
"Never! never! without my two darlings," shrieked Mrs Tods.
But Mrs Tods was tenderly lifted over the side and placed in the
powerful arms of the sailor. Her sons instantly set up a howl and
rushed towards her. But Mr Bright had anticipated this also, and, with
the aid of a seaman, arrested them. Meanwhile, the signal having been
given, the men on the land pulled in the cradle, and Mrs Tods went
shrieking over the hissing billows to the shore. A few minutes more and
out came the cradle again.
"Now, then, for the two `darlings'," growled the mate.
They were forcibly put over the side and sent howling to their mother.
After them went Mrs Pods, who, profiting by the experience of her
friend, made no resistance. This however, was more than counterbalanced
by the struggles of _her_ three treasures, who immediately followed.
But the shades of evening were now falling, and it was with an anxious
feeling at his heart that the mate surveyed the cluster of human beings
who had yet to be saved, while each roaring wave that struck the wreck
seemed about to break it up.
Suddenly there arose a cry of joy, and, looking seaward, the bright
white and blue form of the lifeboat was seen coming in like an angel of
light on the crests of the foaming seas.
We may not stay to describe what followed in detail. The lifeboat's
anchor was let go to windward of the wreck, and the cable paid out until
the boat forged under the vessel's lee, where it heaved on the boiling
foam so violently that it was difficult to prevent it being stove in,
and still more difficult to get the women and children passed on board.
Soon the lifeboat was full--as full as she could hold--and many
passengers yet remained to be rescued.
The officer in charge of the mail-bags had got them up under the shelter
of the companion-hatch ready to be put into the boat, but human life was
of more value than letters--ay, even than diamonds.
"Now, then, one other lady. Only room for one," roared the mate, who
stood with pistol in hand near the gangway.
Miss Gentle tried to get to the front, but Lady Tower stepped in before
her.
"Never mind, little woman," said Mr Bright, encouragingly, "the rocket
apparatus is still at work, and the wreck seems hard and fast on the
reef. You'll get off next trip."
"But I can't bear to think of going by that awful thing," said Miss
Gentle, shuddering and sheltering herself from the blinding spray under
the lee of Bright's large and powerful body.
"Well, then," he returned, cheerfully, "the lifeboat will soon return;
you'll go ashore with the mails."
Mr Bright was right about the speedy return of the lifeboat with her
gallant crew, who seemed to rejoice in danger as if in the presence of a
familiar friend, but he was wrong about the wreck being hard and fast.
The rising tide shifted her a little, and drove her a few feet farther
in. When the other women and children were got into the boat, Mr
Bright, who stood near the mail-bags looking anxiously at them, left his
position for a moment to assist Miss Gentle to the gangway. She had
just been safely lowered when a tremendous wave lifted the wreck and
hurled it so far over the reef that the fore part of the vessel was
submerged in a pool of deep water lying between it and the shore.
Mr Bright looked back and saw the hatchway disappearing. He made a
desperate bound towards it, but was met by the rush of the crew, who now
broke through the discipline that was no longer needed, and jumped
confusedly into the lifeboat on the sea, carrying Bright along with
them. On recovering his feet he saw the ship make a final plunge
forward and sink to the bottom, so that nothing was left above water but
part of the two funnels. The splendid lifeboat was partly drawn down,
but not upset. She rose again like a cork, and in a few seconds freed
herself from water through the discharging tubes in her bottom. The men
struggling in the water were quickly rescued, and the boat, having
finished her noble work, made for the shore amid cheers of triumph and
joy.
Among all the passengers in that lifeboat there was only one whose
visage expressed nothing but unutterable woe.
"Why, Mr Bright," said Miss Gentle, who clung to one of the thwarts
beside him, and was struck by his appearance, "you seem to have broken
down all at once. What has happened?"
"The mail-bags!" groaned Mr Bright.
"Why do you take so deep an interest in the mails?" asked Miss Gentle.
"Because I happen to be connected with the post-office; and though I
have no charge of them, I can't bear to see them lost," said Mr Bright
with another groan, as he turned his eyes wistfully--not to the shore,
at which all on board were eagerly gazing--but towards the wreck of the
Royal Mail steamer _Trident_, the top of whose funnels rose black and
defiant in the midst of the raging waves.