THE RAFT
What were the occupants of the boats to do? What would become of them?
Twenty-six men in boats only meant to accommodate eighteen at most, and
these with but little food or water, no change of clothes, few comforts
of any kind, an insufficiency even of necessaries,--and they were within
the tropics.
The sun rose up in fierce majesty, and blazed down upon them like fire
itself. Some had no hats, and suffered terribly from this cause. The sea
was like molten metal heaving close around them; the crowd impeded all
proper use of the oars or sailing gear. Of this last the captain's gig
had none.
The men looked at each other with haggard eyes, despair in their faces.
It would require but a slight touch to make them abandon themselves to
hopelessness, losing heart altogether, and becoming demoralised.
They must be induced to do something, to strike a blow for their own
salvation, or all would be lost.
Rogers was the right man in the right place here. Out broke his cheerful
voice--
"Three cheers for the last of the old _Pelican_, my boys! She dies
gloriously after all. No ship-breaker's yard for the gallant old girl!"
He led the cheers, which were echoed but faintly.
"'Tis well," pursued he; "'tis a crowning mercy that we are in the
current which sets into the Barogna Flats. It will bear us along softly
and well, barring any more cyclones, but it is not likely that we shall
have another of those wild customers now. It has swept over for the
time, anyhow."
"Will you not make for Diamond Island, sir?" asked Mellish, the first
mate.
"By all means," said the captain, "if we are able to _make for_
anything. But, my good fellow," dropping his voice, "we must take our
chance of getting _anywhere_. In this crowd we cannot hold out long,
neither can we pick and choose our course. We can practically only
drift, and keep up our hearts."
"We are nearly sure to be met by some ship going into Rangoon," said
Mellish, speaking with more certainty than he felt.
"There is a light on the Krishna Shoal, if we could reach that," said
Kershaw, the third mate. "I was in Rangoon on my first voyage, and
remember it; a thing like the devil on three sticks instead of two."
A laugh followed this description of the lighthouse which all the old
salts knew.
"Ay, my lad," said the captain cheerily, "we'll make for your
three-legged devil, and let him take the hindmost."
"Zur," said old Wills, touching his forelock, "there'm a lot of spars
and timbers afloat, would it not be best to try and draw enough in to
make a catamaran, like az we used to be teached to make for a pinch when
I wor in the navy?"
"A catamaran!" exclaimed young Kershaw. "Why, man, what good would that
be so far to sea? You may see them by the dozen off shore, but how do
you propose to make one here?"
"From timber-heads and greenhorn, zur," replied the old fellow very
demurely.
"Do you think you can?" asked Rogers, who was thinking too intently to
have noticed this byplay. "The boats are of such different sizes."
"'Twon't be a fust-class affair, your honour," replied Wills. "Not az if
we had her blessed Majesty's resources to hand; but Osborn here, he du
knaw what I mean so well az any, and I daresay there's others too."
"Ay!" cried two or three.
"'Twould give more elbow-room d'ye zee, zur."
"It would," said the captain; "but you could not do it unless the boats
were nearer of a size, I am convinced."
"Maybe not, sir," said Mr. Mellish, "but there seem to be a lot of casks
among the wreckage. If we could haul in half a dozen oil hogsheads, and
put them three of a side, we might contrive what would relieve both
boats considerably. Then we might leave the big boat to keep that
company, and push ahead with the gig to fetch help."
"Right you be, zur," said Wills.
There was a coil of rope in the large boat, they made a running noose in
it, and endeavoured to fling it over some of the coveted casks; but the
difficulty was enormous, partly from want of room in which to work, and
partly from the danger that floating wreckage might swamp their boat,
and so destroy their only chance of life.
Some spars and staves were collected, suitable to the purpose, but the
sea was much agitated from the recent cyclone, and the difficulty of
approaching the hogsheads was apparently insurmountable. The things
might have been alive and spiteful, so persistently did they elude every
wile.
Just when the men, utterly disheartened, were inclined to abandon the
effort as hopeless, the noose caught, apparently more by haphazard than
by skill, and a hogshead of oil was drawn alongside.
In their excitement the men nearly upset the boat, and Rogers had to
repress them sternly.
"Have a care, men, have a care! look at the sharks all about us. You
don't want to fatten them, do ye?"
"Broach that cask," cried one among them. "Let the ile out, 'twill calm
the sea."
"Ay!" said Rogers, "let it out."
Another hogshead was brought in now, and, strange to say, the oil being
emptied did make the water smoother as far as it reached around them.
While the men in one boat redoubled their efforts to obtain more of
these casks, old Wills and his mate Osborn connected the two empty ones
by a spar laid across and firmly affixed to each end. They did this at
the imminent risk of their lives, for it was necessary to get upon the
spar, in a kneeling position, so as to secure the ropes firmly, and any
slip into the sea would probably have been followed by a rush of white
light to the spot, and the disappearance of the man, or at least of one
of his members.
Those in the boats watched anxiously the while, crying out now and then,
"'Ware shark!"
As these alarms were half of them false ones, the old fellows became too
well accustomed to them for more than a passing glance from their work,
which became safer for them as the casks were firmly fastened.
In the meantime a third cask was obtained, but it seemed all but
impossible to attach a fourth. There was one within approachable
distance, but it bobbed a little farther off with each effort to cast
the noose over it. Seeing the impunity which had attended the efforts of
Wills and Osborn, a man called Whittingham, a strong active young
daredevil, got upon the spar, and made his careful way out to its far
end, rope in hand, coiled up, ready for a cast.
He worked himself astride the spar with considerable difficulty, for the
thing was up in the air at one moment, so that the lookers-on expected
to see him flung backwards into the sea; then down the length would
plunge, as if about to bury itself in some great green cavern, into
which he must go headlong.
It was like riding a kicking horse, but the hardy fellow kept his hold,
reached the hogshead farthest from the boat, flung the coil, and it fell
short though actually touching the cask.
Reclaiming the length of cord, Whittingham, in defiance of all prudence,
flung himself into the boiling sea and swam towards the coveted object.
"Come back, man! Come back!" shouted the captain.
"A shark! A shark!" roared the sailors.
Whittingham paid no heed, he reached the cask and got the rope around
it. He had a cord passed round his waist, and prepared to be hauled back
by it, when his awful shriek rent the air, and a groan burst from the
white lips of his comrades.
A huge shark had rushed swiftly up, and taken the poor fellow's legs off
at his middle. The sea was crimsoned with his blood, as his head was
seen turned, with an agonised expression, at sight of the certain death
come upon him. In another minute the tension of the strong hands
relaxed, and the man's upper half also disappeared from sight.
Ralph hid his face, trembling with horror.
But the men knew well that this was the fate which awaited them all did
the boats capsize before rescue arrived, and they redoubled their
efforts to help themselves.
The fatal cask was drawn in, reddened still with the lifeblood of poor
Whittingham, which had splashed all over it, and it enabled Wills and
his assistants to construct a sort of oblong frame, supported at each
corner by the buoyant empty vessels. Pieces of wood were laid athwart,
the short way of the raft, which became safer with each fresh plank as
it was affixed.
The chief difficulty was to obtain the wherewithal for making these
planks and timbers secure. There was but very little rope, and only such
nails as clung to the riven timbers, with a few which Wills, like all
carpenters, happened to have in his pocket. The spars and planks were
irregular in length and thickness, neither was it possible to rig up
even a cord run around the raft, or any manner of bulwark wherewith to
increase its safety.
It could not be navigated by any means, but it could be towed at the
stern of the larger boat, and serve to reduce the crush of people there,
so as give free scope either to step the mast and sail her, or for the
men to use their oars.
Both boats being thus relieved, the captain's gig would then row away,
with a light complement of men, and try to make Diamond Island, upon
which a pilot station was well known to exist; or the Krishna Shoal,
where it was probable that help might be either obtained or signalled
for by those in the lightship.
With help of the current this was possible, provided the weather
remained calm.
The question now arose as to who should be transferred to the raft,--who
could best be spared from the boats.
Mellish must remain in command of the large boat, with Kershaw. The
second mate must go with the captain. The four officers must be thus
divided to ensure a head in case of accident to either one among them.
The crew of the captain's gig must also be retained. They were picked
men, and the most likely to hold out in case of long-continued exertion
or another gale of wind.
"Uncle," said Ralph, "I will go on the raft. I cannot help in the boat,
I do not know enough, but I can make room for a better man."
"You are right, my boy," said the captain a little huskily. "You are a
plucky chap, and your mother shall hear of this if any of us live."
"I go on the raft, equally of course," said Mr. Gilchrist firmly.
"Let we go, maister," proposed Wills, usually spokesman for himself and
Osborn. "Uz will keep an eye on the young 'un, ef it be only because
he'm Miss Amy's chield."
The captain grasped the old fellow's hand in silence, and two of the
ordinary seamen, of less use than the A.B.'s, were added to the little
gimcrack craft's crew.
The biscuit was apportioned out to each as far as it went, and the gig
parted company from its fellows. When nearly out of sight, the men
lifted their oars in the air as a farewell greeting, and the fast
gathering shades of night engulfed them.
Their companions, both in the boat and on the raft, watched their
disappearance in silence. They were exhausted with the emotions of the
last few days, and the heavy work of the last twenty-four hours. Little
could be done through the night but wait for the dawn. They set a watch,
and each tried to get some rest in turn.
There had been a question as to whether Kirke should not have gone on
the raft. It would have been fitter for him to have done so than for Mr.
Gilchrist, who, always delicate, had recently been so ill. He was a
guest, if not a passenger, and should have had the best place.
He had, however, settled the question for himself, allowing no demur,
and the men were grateful to him for so doing. Most of them were married
men, with young children or other helpless ones dependent upon them. The
safety of the raft was bound up in the safety of the boat. If anything
happened to swamp the boat, the raft was doomed to share the same fate;
whereas, were the raft lost, those in the boat still had a chance. Those
who could work the oars and sails best were the right men to remain in
it.
But Kirke was not one of these; neither his strength nor his knowledge
made him as useful as an O. S. would have been, but he claimed his place
in the boat as an officer, and there was no time for debate. Captain
Rogers let it pass,--perhaps he had his own private reasons for so
doing.
The men owned no reasons, public or private, for keeping this much
disliked young man among them; they would far rather have had Ralph of
the two; and thought that Mr. Gilchrist should have been kept in the
best place.
They murmured; they made remarks to each other aimed at the selfish
apprentice, and which he perfectly understood; while Kershaw openly
taunted him with selfishness and cowardice.
Kirke maintained a dogged silence, but his brow became more lowering,
and his mouth more set in a kind of vicious sullenness every moment.
So night fell.