ADRIFT ON THE OCEAN
Night fell over the shipwrecked men, a strange one for the denizens of
the raft.
There, at least, was peace, and a hearty determination to make the best
of their position.
They had some sailcloth and a boat cloak. The men arranged the packages,
which had been turned out to disencumber the boat, so as to make a
tolerably comfortable back; they laid down a couple of planks close
together, rolled up the sailcloth into a kind of cushion above them, and
placed Mr. Gilchrist upon it, wrapped in the cloak.
That gentleman would gladly have shared these accommodations among some
of them, but the men would not hear of it.
"Lord love you, zur," said Osborn, "there's enough for one, but two
wouldn't zay thank'ee for a part. We'm used to roughing it. 'Tis fine
and cool after all the heat and pother to-day."
Ralph, upon whom his friend urged his wishes more strongly, only
laughed. He seated himself upon one leg on a packing-case, the other
foot dangling; he crossed his arms on the head of the biscuit-barrel
against which Mr. Gilchrist leaned, half-sitting, and, burying his face
upon them, said he should sleep like a top there, for he was so tired he
could not keep his eyes open.
The sailors squatted down, finding such ease as was possible, and quiet
fell over all. The night was a dark one, and very still; there was not a
breath of wind to fill the sail in the boat, half the men there were
getting what repose they could, and the others trusted more to the
current than to their oars through the darkness. Silence had fallen upon
all there as well as on the raft.
But Mr. Gilchrist could not sleep. He was a nervous, excitable man, and
the new and excessively perilous position in which he found himself
precluded all possibility of sleep. His senses seemed rather to be
preternaturally acute, and he could not even close his eyes.
The lapping of the sea against the raft, the occasional gleam of
something swiftly passing, and which he believed to be a shark
accompanying the crazy little craft,--for what purpose he shuddered to
think,--the occasional sounds which reached him from the boat, all kept
him awake.
He lay, half-reclining, with his face towards the boat, which was full
in his view. He could faintly see the oars dipping into the water,
keeping way on the boat, and Kershaw's slim figure holding the tiller
ropes. Presently he saw the one set of men relieved by the other, he
smiled to observe the mate's long arms tossed out, evidently
accompanying a portentous yawn, and then he was replaced by a shorter,
broader back, which Mr. Gilchrist knew must belong to Kirke.
A sort of half-doze succeeded for a short time, then Ralph changed his
position, which startled him into wakefulness once more, and
discontented tones reached him from the boat.
"What are you about? Steer straight. You will tip us all over. What's
the fellow doing?"
"Dropped my cap overboard. I was not going to lose it. Shut up!"
A few more murmurs, then all was still again; but, was he mistaken? did
his eyes, unaccustomed to judge of objects in the darkness, deceive him,
or were they farther from the boat than before?
He peered anxiously into the gloom, and felt certain that the motion of
the raft was changed. There was less ripple against its prow.
"Wills," said he softly to the old carpenter, who lay full length within
reach of his hand,--"Wills, there is something wrong."
The man was on the alert instantaneously.
"Zur?" he asked.
"I fear we have parted the towline," said Mr Gilchrist.
Wills cautiously moved to where the rope had been fastened--it hung
loose, there was no tension upon it, and he hauled it in hand over hand.
"My God!" he cried, "we are lost!"
They shouted to the men in the boat, but the distance was widening every
moment between them. Kirke did not seem to hear, to understand. The men
clamoured, the first mate arose, took the helm, and tried to turn her
head so as to row back, but the darkness was greater than ever. Those in
the raft could no longer distinguish the boat, what chance therefore
existed of those in the boat seeing the raft, which lay so much lower in
the water?
They raised a shout, hoping to direct their friends by means of sound,
but that hope failed them. They kept it up till they were exhausted,
till a long line of faint light illumined the east, till daylight leapt
out of the sea and all was bright about them. A little breeze sprang up
with the dawn, the water had not yet quite calmed down from the
disturbance caused by the tornado; they looked north, south, east, and
west, but saw the boat nowhere.
They were alone upon the sea, with but a plank between them and death;
with no means of helping themselves, with only enough food for one day,
and the sharks swimming around them in sure certainty of their meal
sooner or later.
One of the seamen took hold of the end of the towline, and held it up
for the rest to see.
It had been severed with a knife! It had not been so rotten as to give
of its own accord from the strain put upon it; it had not frayed itself,
or broken at any weak spot, it _had been cut_.
They had been cast adrift by their own companions, of malice prepense.
"God forgive him!" ejaculated Mr. Gilchrist.
"Who?" gasped Ralph.
"The unhappy wretch who did this."
Ralph made no further remark; there was but one among the boat's crew
who was malicious enough to be even suspected of such a crime, and the
boy could not bear to think it of him. But that _somebody_ had severed
the rope, was beyond doubt.
The fierce sun blazed down upon the waste of water, there was nothing to
be done but to sit still and bear it. Their limbs were cramped from
their inability to change their positions, there was no help for that.
Raging headache came on; there was a small tin pail, and Wills tried to
dip up sea-water and cast it over Mr. Gilchrist's fevered brow. With the
first movement such a rush of sharks was made to the place as caused
them all to shudder. What had they expected that they snapped so eagerly
at the pail?
The men were hungry, but thirst overpowered hunger, and they must
economise their little stock of biscuit and water. For how many days
would it avail to keep life in them were they not picked up?
About noon, as well as they could judge, Wills served out a biscuit
each, and about a half-pint of water.
Ralph sickened at thought of eating, and laid the biscuit down.
"That won't do, Ralph," said Mr. Gilchrist. "You must take what means
are in your power to keep your life, it is your plain duty. Your life is
not your own, you are only placed in charge of it, and will have to
render up an account of your stewardship. How can you tell for what your
Master wants you? He may be preparing you by this terrible trial for the
work He created you to do."
"Lord, zur, 'ee du spit it out like a buke," said Osborn admiringly.
"Eat it now, Maister Ralph, do 'ee now, like a good chield."
Ralph was fain to smile, and took up the biscuit again, feeling less
sick when he had swallowed it.
At nightfall another was given round, and a few mouthfuls more water;
then the long hours of darkness fell again upon them, only more
endurable in that they were cooler. They knew that but one more meal
remained, the pangs of starvation must then be theirs. It was no wonder
that they had not much to say to each other, although none slept.
They were in the track of ships going to Rangoon, that was their only
hope; but so low were they in the water, so impossible was it to raise a
signal in any manner, that even in broad daylight fifty ships might pass
within sight of them and never perceive their extremity. But there were
no ships to be seen, nothing to break the skyline, nothing of any sort
_upon_ that wide expanse of heaving water but themselves, while--the
sharks--the sharks were _beneath_ its surface.
Towards morning, when the light breeze brought something of coolness and
refreshment even to them, a little oblivion, a temporary
half-forgetfulness of all around came over most of them, deepening into
real sleep with some.
Ralph slept, and dreamed happily. He thought he saw his mother and
sisters walking together. He did not think it strange that they should
be walking on the sea; they were talking earnestly to each other, when
his youngest sister, a pretty flaxen-headed child of three years old,
popped a rosy face out of the waves at their feet, and bubbled over into
such merry laughter that he laughed too, and woke himself.
"Why, Ralph!" exclaimed Mr. Gilchrist, aroused by so unexpected a sound.
"Christ Jesus!" shrieked Wills at the same moment, awakened also.
"Christ Jesus! What is here?"
His yell was echoed by all the others, for a huge black mass reared
itself almost above their heads, and was bearing down upon them.
With the desperation of men at their last gasp they shrieked out, "Hoi,
hoi! Hallo! Hallo!"
Their voices seemed to make no noise, they raised them impotently to
their own ears; but that was only the fancy of despair, they had a
proper volume of sound in reality. They were heard, answered with an
English cheer; English faces rushed to look over the top of that great
thing; English voices clamoured; chains rattled; word of command was
given; paddles splashed; a boat was lowered; men dropped into it over
the side; a few strokes brought it to them; and they were taken on
board, among exclamations of wonder and welcome.
So stiff and spent were they that they had almost to be lifted into the
boat, and were assisted up from it into the steamer which had rescued
them; but movement eased them, and the joyous excitement of all around
helped to restore them.
Crew, firemen, officers, passengers, swarmed around them, to
congratulate them, to shake them by the hand, to clap them upon the
back. Hot coffee was brought as if by magic, and proved a wonderful
restorer; wine, food, fruit, were lavished upon them; dry, comfortable
clothes and beds were ready for their repose.
Oh, how exquisite to feel the cool, clean linen around them, to bathe
their scorched, blistered faces in fair water, to remove the dirt of
days' accumulation, to be revived with food so delicious to their
palates, to feel the sweetest sleep stealing over them as they laid
their heads down in security once more!
Until they had been fed, clothed, and rested, they were unable to give
or understand information as to their whereabouts; but so completely had
they lost their bearings, so utterly miscalculated the strength of the
current, that though they had hoped to make Diamond Island, they had
really passed that place, and missed all indications as to the entrance
of the Rangoon river.
The Krishna Shoal had been passed unseen, the Barogna Flats unheeded.
They had never perceived the lighthouse, or been aware that they were
near it, but were drifting aimlessly about just beyond that place.
The steamer was taking passengers from Rangoon to Moulmein, where they
were landed in the course of the next day, and carried straight into
hospital in high fever.
The seamen were tough fellows, and soon recovered. Mr. Gilchrist, though
considered so delicate a man, also suffered less than Ralph, who, having
kept up so bravely through the whole of their trials, now proved to have
received a severe shock to his constitution. His brain was violently
affected, and delirium was most distressing and persistent.
For some days the doctors feared whether he would ever recover his
reason even were his life spared to him; and, when the fever left him,
his prostration was great.
Youth and natural good health conquered at last, and he recovered. Then
he learnt that the news of their rescue had been sent to Rangoon, and
joyfully received by his uncle and shipmates. Rogers had made the pilot
station on Diamond Island, and been helped into Rangoon, where he was
cordially received by the friends of his owners, and business
connections.
The _Pelican of the North_ had been insured, though the cargo was not.
The Liverpool firm of Herford Brothers was a wealthy and liberal one,
Rogers and the other officers were to return home in another of its
ships then unloading in Rangoon; the seamen could obtain berths in any
homeward-bound vessel.
But there was bad news for Ralph. The firm of rice merchants to which he
was going had failed, and his hope of a situation in it doomed to
disappointment.
For some time the fate of the boat remained uncertain.