Sailors are never discouraged by danger as long as they have any chance
of relieving themselves by their own exertions. The loss of their
shipmates, so instantaneously summoned away, - the wrecked state of the
vessel, - the wild surges burying them beneath their angry waters, -
the howling of the wind, the dazzling of the lightning, and the pealing
of the thunder, did not prevent them from doing what their necessity
demanded. Mackintosh, the first mate, rallied the men, and contrived to
fix a block and strap to the still smoking stump of the foremast; a
rope was rove through the block, and the main-topgallant sail hoisted,
so that the vessel might run faster before the gale, and answer her
helm better than she did.
The ship was again before the wind, and comparatively safe,
notwithstanding the heavy blows she now received from the pursuing
waves. Night again came on, but there was no repose, and the men were
worn out with exposure and fatigue.
The third day of the gale dawned, but the appearances were as alarming
as ever: the continual breaking of the seas over the stern had washed
away the binnacles, and it was impossible now to be certain of the
course the ship had been steered, or the distance which had been run;
the leaky state of the vessel proved how much she had already suffered
from the violent shocks which she had received, and the certainty was
apparent, that if the weather did not abate, she could not possibly
withstand the force of the waves much longer.
The countenance of Captain Osborn showed great anxiety: he had a heavy
responsibility on his shoulders - he might lose a valuable ship, and
still more valuable cargo, even if they did not all lose their lives;
for they were now approaching where the sea was studded with low coral
islands, upon which they might be thrown by the waves and wind, without
having the slightest power to prevent it in their present disabled
condition.
Ready was standing by him when Captain Osborn said--
"I don't much like this, Ready; we are now running on danger and have
no help for it."
"That's true enough," replied Ready: "we have no help for it; it is
God's will, sir, and His will be done."
"Amen!" replied Captain Osborn solemnly; and then he continued, after a
pause, "There were many captains who envied me when I obtained command
of this fine ship, - would they change with me now?"
"I should rather think not, Captain Osborn, but you never know what the
day may bring forth. You sailed with this vessel, full of hope - you
now, not without reason, feel something approaching to despair; but who
knows? it may please the Almighty to rebuke those angry winds and
waves, and to-morrow we may again hope for the best; at all events you
have done your duty - no man can do more."
"You are right," replied Captain Osborn; "but hold hard, Ready, that
sea's aboard of us."
Ready had just time to cling with both hands to the belaying-pins when
the sea poured over the vessel, with a volume of water which for some
time swept them off their legs: they clung on firmly, and at last
recovered their feet.
"She started a timber or two with that blow, I rather think," said
Ready.
"I'm afraid so; the best vessel ever built could not stand such shocks
long," replied Captain Osborn; "and at present, with our weak crew, I
do not see that we can get more sail upon her."
All that night the ship flew in darkness before the gale. At daybreak
the wind abated, and the sea went down: the ship was, however, still
kept before the wind, for she had suffered too much to venture to put
her broadside to the sea. Preparations were now made for getting up
jury-masts; and the worn-out seamen were busily employed, under the
direction of Captain Osborn and his two mates, when Mr. Seagrave and
William came upon deck.
William stared about him: he perceived, to his astonishment, that the
tall masts, with all their rigging and sails, had disappeared, and that
the whole deck was in a state of confusion and disorder.
"See, my child," said Mr. Seagrave, "the wreck and devastation which
are here. See how the pride of man is humbled before the elements of
the great Jehovah."
"Ay, Master Willy," said old Ready, "look around you, as you well may.
Do you remember the verses in the Bible? - if not, I remember them
well, for I have often read them, and have often felt the truth of
them: 'They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great
waters, these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep'."
"But, father," said Willy, after a pause, "how shall we ever get to
Sydney without masts or sails?"
"Why, William," replied Ready, "we must do what we can: we sailors are
never much at a loss, and I dare say before night you will find us
under some sort of sail again. We have lost our great masts, so we must
put up jury-masts, as we call them; that is, little ones, and little
sails upon them; and, if it pleases God, we shall see Sydney yet. How
is Madam, sir?" continued Ready to Mr. Seagrave. "Is she better?"
"I fear she is very weak and ill," replied Mr. Seagrave; "nothing but
fine weather will do her any good. Do you think that it will be fine
now?"
"Why, sir, to tell you the truth, I fear we shall have more of it yet:
I have not given my thoughts to the captain, as I might be mistaken;
but still I think so - I've not been fifty years at sea without
learning something. I don't like the gathering of that bank there, Mr.
Seagrave, and I shouldn't wonder if it were to blow again from the very
same quarter, and that before dark."
"God's will be done," replied Mr. Seagrave, "but I am very fearful
about my poor wife, who is worn to a shadow."
"I shouldn't think so much about that, sir, as I really never knew of
people dying that way, although they suffer much. William, do you know
that we have lost some of our men since you were down below?"
"No - I heard the steward say something outside about the foremast."
"We have lost five of our smartest and best men - Wilson was washed
overboard, Fennings and Masters struck dead with the lightning, and
Jones and Emery crushed by the fall of the foremast. You are young,
Master Willy, but you cannot think too early of your Maker, or call to
mind what they say in the burial service, - 'In the midst of life we
are in death'."
"Thank you, Ready, for the lesson you have given my son," said Mr.
Seagrave; "and, William, treasure it up in your memory."
"Yes, William, they are the words of an old man who has seen many and
many a one who was full of youth and spirits called away before him,
and who is grateful to God that he has been pleased to preserve his
life, and allow him to amend his ways."
"I have been thinking," said Mr. Seagrave, after a silence of a minute
or two, "that a sailor has no right to marry."
"I've always thought so, sir," replied Ready; "and I dare say many a
poor deserted sailor's wife, when she has listened to the wind and rain
in her lonely bed, has thought the same."
"With my permission," continued Mr. Seagrave, "my boys shall never go
to sea if there is any other profession to be found for them."
"Well, Mr. Seagrave, they do say that it's no use baulking a lad if he
wishes to go to sea, and that if he is determined, he must go: now I
think otherwise - I think a parent has a right to say no, if he
pleases, upon that point; for you see, sir, a lad, at the early age at
which he goes to sea, does not know his own mind. Every high-spirited
boy wishes to go to sea - it's quite natural; but if the most of them
were to speak the truth, it is not that they so much want to go to sea,
as that they want to go from school or from home, where they are under
the control of their masters or their parents."
"Very true, Ready; they wish to be, as they consider they will be,
independent."
"And a pretty mistake they make of it, sir. Why, there is not a greater
slave in the world than a boy who goes to sea, for the first few years
after his shipping: for once they are corrected on shore, they are
punished ten times at sea, and they never again meet with the love and
affection they have left behind them. It is a hard life, and there have
been but few who have not bitterly repented it, and who would not have
returned, like the prodigal son, and cast themselves at their fathers'
feet, only that they have been ashamed."
"That's the truth, Ready, and it is on that account that I consider
that a parent is justified in refusing his consent to his son going to
sea, if he can properly provide for him in any other profession. There
never will be any want of sailors, for there always will be plenty of
poor lads whose friends can do no better for them; and in that case the
seafaring life is a good one to choose, as it requires no other capital
for their advancement than activity and courage."