THE WRECK.
ABOUT a fortnight subsequent to the period of the last chapter, Mrs.
Huntington and her daughter, with a single attendant found themselves
embarked on board the Bengal, a large, well-found Indiaman, bound for
Liverpool. The ship belonged to the East India Company, was a good
carrier, but calculated more for freight than speed. She was a new ship
and strong as iron and wood could be put together, and the widow and her
child found their quarters on board of an exceedingly comfortable
nature. They were the only passengers on board, but the vessel had a
heavy freight list, and as she moved out from her anchorage to lay her
course to sea, her draft of water was very deep.
The Bengal fortunately encountered none but the most favorable winds and
tides for many a long and to those on board somewhat monotonous days,
and the sun rose out of the sea clear and bright, and sunk again beneath
its surface in gorgeous splendor with every diurnal rotation, until at
length the ship touched at the Cape of Good Hope, where, having taken
fresh water and provisions on board, she cleared direct for Liverpool.
Every hour now seemed more especially to draw the ship nearer her port
of destination, and a fresh spirit was infused among passengers and
crew, in cabin and forecastle; but it was a long distance yet, and the
widow and her daughter found time for much study and reading, for which
they were amply supplied, and thus the time was lightened in its
progress and also well improved.
But the ocean is a treacherous element, and the fair weather which had
so long characterized their voyage, was to be varied now by fierce and
angry gales. It was the season of the year when they might expect this,
and the captain had kept a sharp lookout. It was the middle of a fine
afternoon that there was observed a singular phenomenon in the wind
which appeared to come from half a dozen points at the same moment. The
ship of course lost her steerage way, and the sea began most singularly
to get up from all points in heavy cross waves. It was evident that they
were either in the course of a whirlwind or close to its track, and
every now and then gusts came first larboard then starboard, and again
bows on and stern on, with a force that snapped the rigging like pipe
stems, and tore the canvass from the bolt ropes, notwithstanding the
prompt orders and nimble efforts of the seamen, before it could be
secured. Half an hour of this strange weather nearly stripped the ship
of her standing rigging, leaving her comparatively a helpless wreck upon
the waters, a mere log at the mercy of the wind and waves.
The worst had not yet come, however, for the ship was sound still in her
hull, and save that she was now wallowing in the trough of the sea, she
was comparatively safe; she had sprung no leak, but her heavy freight
tested her powers fearfully, and the captain was fain to acknowledge
that there was nought to be done but abide the raging of the storm until
it was over. His attempt to rig a jury mast, on which to bend sail
enough to give the ship steerage way, was perfectly fruitless; she
rolled and pitched so fearfully that no effort of the kind could
succeed, but the crew were kept busy throwing over the heavier at tiles
of freight to case the ship.
As right came on with its intense darkness relieved only by now and then
a terrible flash of liquid fire, all on board expected each moment might
be their last. Prayers were said, and all tried to compose their minds
as far as possible to meet that death which seemed to be fast
approaching them, when suddenly the cry ran, fore and aft that the
captain was lost overboard! This added to the general gloom; and now a
cry was heard "there goes the Flying Dutchman," as was seen by several
on board the Indiaman, during the interval of the vivid lightning, a
large ship dash by them almost within cable's length, with a single
topsail close reefed running before the gale with the speed of the wind.
It did indeed look like a phantom craft. All was snug on board, not a
soul was in sight, everything battened down, save one dark form
apparently lashed to the wheel stanchions and steadily bent upon keeping
the ship before the storm; it was a sight that added to the terror of
those on board the Indiaman, and its effect was at once visible.
The ignorant and superstitious seamen, ever ready to argue evil from any
strange occurrence, now felt assured of their destruction, declaring
that the strange appearance of the phantom-ship was but a warning to
foretell the fate that was preparing for them. Thus actuated, all
discipline was gone, and no connected efforts were further made to
protect the ship or render her in any degree safer from the power of the
storm. To add still more to the critical condition on board, the ship
after straining and laboring so long, now began to leak and rapidly to
fill. In this desperate state of affairs several of the crew, whose
numbers were already thinned by being washed overboard, got into the
spirit room and in a condition of wild desperation became beastly
intoxicated, resolving to die insensible to danger! and at intervals
their crazy oaths and incoherent songs were heard above the gale.
At this crisis, as is generally the case, two or three sterling spirits
among the crew (and there is never a ship's company without some such
among its members), one, the second mate, and a couple of foremast
hands, came into the cabin and assured the widow and her daughter that
they would protect them to the last, and that they were even now
preparing the long boat with compass, water and food, so that should the
storm abate and the sea become less agitated before the ship should fill
and go down, they might launch it, and with the ladies and such of them
as desired, attempt to save themselves in this frail bark. With
heartfelt gratitude the mother and child accepted their protection and
awaited the crisis; but not without solemnly kneeling together upon the
cabin floor and committing themselves to the care of Divine Providence.
The second mate of the Bengal was the only officer left, but he was a
good sailor, a man of cool nerve and great personal strength. He now
went calmly to work, sounded the well and found four feet of water in
the ship, made his calculations how long it would require for the ship
to fill at the rate she then made water, and then set to work with his
two companions to rig a triangle with spars above the long boat, so as
to lift and launch it just when the proper moment should arrive, but
this he found to be impracticable. As the morning broke in the cast the
gale subsided, but the sea still kept up its angry commotion, though
that too, gradually subsided, the waves growing less and less, and the
ship becoming more and more quiet, enabling those on board to keep at
least upon their feet.
In the meantime, the ship had gradually settled so that the water was
already on the cabin floor. In vain were the entreaties of the mate and
his companions for the four or five hands who had possessed themselves
of the key of the spirit room to come on deck and save themselves; they
could neither be persuaded nor forced to move, but lay in a state of
beastly intoxication. Everything had been done that was possible, to
prepare for launching the long boat, and the widow and her daughter had
already by the mate's sanction taken their seats within it, while one of
the seamen secured and carefully stored the few articles of necessity
which had been selected.
The two masts of the boat were stepped and carefully secured, the gripes
that secured the boat in its place were cut, leaving it standing upright
in its wooden bed, but entirely free from the deck of the ship. Already
had the ship sunk so low that all communication with the cabin was cut
off, and the poor inebriated wretches who had there sought oblivion in
intoxication also found their tomb. Food, water and compass were
properly disposed, so that any sudden movement of the boat should not
dislodge them, oars and sails in readiness, and a careful examination
had, lest some straggling rope might in some way connect the boat with
the wreck, so as to draw them under when the floundering mass should at
last go down. The crisis which they now expected seemed strangely
protracted, and their fearful suspense was almost unbearable. The mate
had placed one of his hands at the bows, another amidships, while
himself and the two passengers occupied the stern; the precaution having
also been taken to secure the ladies by ropes to the boat.
The weather had now entirely moderated, and the sea was comparatively
calm, except that now and then a heavy swell would lift the waterlogged
craft and surge about the hull, causing it to groan as though conscious
of its approaching fate. Moments assumed the length of hours now, and
the countenance of each was a picture of agonized suspense and momentary
expectation, no one spoke above their breath. Again the heavy swell
caused the hull to lurch and pitch until her bows were almost buried,
and the water was even with the scuppers--the moment was approaching.
"Steady, all," said the mate, calmly, as he saw another approaching
swell, which he knew must cause the vessel to lift and settle again, and
probably this time prove the signal for her final plunge altogether.
"Steady, I say, and hold on to the boat stoutly now. Don't let go,
ladies, for an instant!"
The seaman was right, the heavy hull was ful this surge came on, burying
her for an instant, and actually sweeping the boat clear of her bulwarks
out upon the sea, a most fortunate circumstance, which was instantly
taken advantage of, by pulling with the oars for a single instant, and
still further clearing the wreck, which now rose high at the bows for a
moment as the stern settled and gradually sunk, causing a vortex which
would certainly have engulfed the boat, had it not been able thus to
pull a short distance away, and which even now drew it rapidly back to
the spot where the ship had laid, and causing it to toss fearfully for a
while, but in a few moments more all was quiet.
"Thank God, that is over," said the mate, earnestly; "it was little
short of a miracle that we did not all of us go down with the ship."
The widow covered her face with her hands and breathed a silent prayer
of thankfulness. It was already night again, and steering by the stars
the mate laid his course, after affording a spare sail to cover the
mother and her daughter, who having partaken of some needed refreshment,
the first for many hours, were soon lost in sleep, induced by the great
bodily fatigue and physical exertion they had so lately encountered in
this emergency.
The men stood watch and watch, relieving each other at intervals
throughout the night, while the boat with its two lugger sails crept on
steadily upon its course.
It was remarkable to observe the delicacy observed by those three seamen
towards the widow and her daughter, to mark their assiduity towards them
as to their necessities and their wants; while they, on their part, were
patient, uncomplaining and grateful. The second and third day passed on,
when the mate calculated they were steering direct for the nearest point
of land which they could not fail to reach in another day, it being the
coast of Africa. His calculations were made under disadvantages, but he
felt confident of their correctness. The weather, fortunately, had been
very calm and pleasant thus far, since the gale had subsided, and the
frail craft thus exposed upon the ocean had really proved quite
comfortable and weatherly for the time being. A snug little apology for
a cabin had been constructed over the forward part of the boat, into
which the ladies could retire at nightfall, and become secure from the
weather and be entirely by themselves; and under the circumstances they
were really quite comfortable, that is to say, they experienced little
exposure to the elements at night, and slept securely in their narrow
quarters.
In leaving the ship, the mother had been more thoughtful than many
persons would have been, and had taken the box which contained her
valuables and such papers as comprised her heavy bills of credit on
England, in which way she was transporting the bulk of her husband's
late valuable estate to her native land. At first she had taken especial
pains not to have the fact known to the men that she had any great
amount of valuables with her, lest it should prove a temptation to them,
and lead to some tragical result as it regarded the safety of herself
and child. But she need not have feared, those hearty sons of the ocean
were true as steel; and it was only the second day that having laid the
casket down carelessly in the boat, she had retired to the little
forecastle forgetting it, when it was brought to her again by one of
them who remarked, that he presumed it was something of particular value
by its appearance.
According to the mate's reckoning, the time had already arrived when the
land should heave in sight, and the three seamen were constantly on the
lookout for it in the supposed direction where it should appear; but all
their search for it proved in vain, there was the same endless expanse
of ocean before them day after day, bounded only by the dim horizon, and
unrelieved by any object, while the same hope reigned in their hearts.
The exposure they endured, though not very severe, yet began to tell
upon them all, and especially the mate and two seamen, and the cheeks of
the seamen already looked sunken, their eyes less spirited. This was the
combined result of their feelings of disappointment with physical labor,
for they worked several hours at the oars every day, aiding the sailing
power of the boat, in the hopes of reaching the land before another gale
or storm should occur. Now, however, they began to discard the oars, and
to feel less and less courage to labor in propelling the boat.
The widow who was not a little of a philosopher and a woman of good
sound mind, determined to do something to amuse the men, and cheer them
up in their emergency; she saw how sadly they needed some such
influence, and telling her daughter of her purpose, when night again
came on she induced her to sing some of her sweetest airs with all her
power of execution, and to repeat them to the real joy and delight of
these hardy men, who at once gathered an agency from this music, and
declared it was the harbinger of good. Whether it was so in the way they
supposed or not, it certainly was a harbinger of good as it regarded its
cheering effects upon them, and their hearts were again filled with
hope, and their sinews bent once more to toil at the oars.