A CHANGE OF PROGRAMME.
“That’s the same ship we saw at the beginning of the cyclone,” said
Frank. “I know her by her white hull and the black stripe above her
water-line.”
“Heaven help her,” said Uncle Dick, “for we can’t.”
The rest of the schooner’s company could say nothing. They could only
stand and watch the hapless vessel, which the angry waves tossed about
as if she had been a boy’s plaything. Like the Stranger, she was
completely dismantled. The stump of her mizzenmast was standing, and
there was something in her bow that looked like a jury-mast, with a
little piece of canvas fluttering from it. This was probably the
remnants of the storm-sail that had been hoisted to give the vessel
steerageway, but it had been blown into shreds by the gale, and now the
great ship was helpless. As she drifted along before the waves she would
now and then disappear so suddenly when one broke over her, and remain
out of sight so long, that the anxious spectators thought they had seen
the last of her. But she always came up again, and nearer the
threatening reefs than before. Her destruction was only a question of
time, and a very few minutes’ time too, for she was too close to the
rocks now to reach the opening through which the schooner had passed,
even had her captain been aware of its existence, and able to get any
canvas on his vessel. The boys looked on with blanched cheeks and
beating hearts, and some of them turned away and went into the cabin
that they might not see the terrible sight.
In striking contrast to these exhibitions of sympathy from the
schooner’s company was the delight the natives on shore manifested when
they discovered the doomed ship. They gathered in a body on the beach
opposite the point on the reefs where the vessel seemed destined to
strike, and danced, and shouted, and flourished their weapons, just as
they had done when the Stranger first hove in sight. The ship and her
cargo, which the waves would bring ashore as fast as the hull was broken
up, would prove a rich booty to them. Perhaps, too, a few prisoners
might fall into their hands, and on these the relatives and friends of
those who had been killed by Frank’s shot could take ample vengeance.
“Mr. Baldwin,” said Uncle Dick, suddenly, “have the boats put into the
water. I don’t know that it will be of any use,” he added, turning to
Frank, “for it doesn’t look to me, from here, as though a human being
could pass through those breakers alive. But a sailor will stand a world
of pounding, and if one gets through with a breath in him, we must be on
hand to keep him from falling into the power of those wretches on
shore.”
“Are you going to send the boats out there, Uncle Dick?” exclaimed
Eugene. “You mustn’t go. The natives would fill you full of arrows and
spears.”
“Don’t be uneasy,” said the old sailor. “The mates will go, and Frank
will see that the savages are kept out of range of the boats.”
“Will you open fire on them? So you can. I didn’t think of that.”
The schooner’s boats, which were stowed on deck, and which had
fortunately been but slightly damaged by the gale, were quickly put into
the water. Then Uncle Dick, having mustered the crew, told them what he
wanted to do, and called for volunteers, and there was not a man who was
too weary to lend a hand to the distressed strangers. Every one of them
stepped forward. The best oarsmen were selected and ordered over the
side, the mates took command, and the boats pulled away behind the reefs
to place themselves in a position to assist any one who might survive
the wreck. Their departure was announced by another shrapnel from the
twenty-four pounder on the quarter-deck, which the natives on shore
regarded as Uncle Dick intended they should regard it—as a hint that
their presence on the beach was most undesirable. They took to their
heels in hot haste the instant they saw the smoke arise from the
schooner’s deck, but some of them were not quick enough in their
movements to escape the danger. The shrapnel ploughed through the sand
at their feet, and, exploding, scattered death on every side. Frank was
amazed at the effect.
“Never mind,” said Uncle Dick, who thought by the expression he saw on
the face of his young friend that he did not much like the work, “they
would serve us worse than that if they had the power. They are fifty or
a hundred to our one, and as we must remain here for a month at least,
our safety can only be secured by teaching them a lesson now that they
will not forget as long as the Stranger is in sight. Keep it up.”
And Frank did keep it up. He threw his shells at regular
intervals—firing slowly so as not to heat the gun—and dropped them first
in one part of the woods, and then in another, to show the natives that
there was no place of safety anywhere within range of his little
Dahlgren. Having found a safe passage for the boats along the beach, he
turned to look at the ship once more. She was close upon the reefs. Even
as he looked she was lifted on the crest of a tremendous billow and
carried toward them with lightning speed. Frank turned away his head,
for he could not endure the sight, and even Uncle Dick’s weather-beaten
face wore an expression of alarm that no one had seen there when his own
vessel was battling with the gale a short half hour before. The shock of
the collision must have been fearful, and Frank, who had thus far clung
to the hope that some of the crew might be saved, lost all heart now.
The sea made quick work with what was left of the ship. She began to go
to pieces at once, and portions of the hull, as fast as they were broken
off by the waves and the friction of the rocks, were hurled through the
breakers toward the beach.
“It is just dreadful, isn’t it?” said George, who had kept close at
Frank’s side. “I remember that the first time I saw a ship in New
Orleans, I looked at her beams and braces, and wondered how it was
possible for so strong a craft to be wrecked. This one is no more than a
chip in a millpond.”
“An element that sometimes exerts a force of six thousand pounds to the
square foot, and which has been known to move great rocks weighing forty
tons and over, is a terrible enemy to do battle with,” replied Frank.
“I am afraid the poor fellows are all gone, and that our boats will be
of no use out there,” said Uncle Dick, “I can’t see anybody.”
“I can,” exclaimed Archie, who had kept his glass directed toward the
ship. “Don’t you see his head bobbing up and down with that mast, or
spar, or whatever it is? He is the only one I have seen thus far.”
“One life is well worth saving,” returned Uncle Dick. “The boats have
discovered him, have they not? I see one of them pulling toward the
breakers.”
“Yes, sir; and now they’ve got him, or what the breakers have left of
him,” replied Archie, joyously. “They’re hauling him in.”
All the crew could see that now without the aid of glasses, and when the
half-drowned man was safe in the boat, their satisfaction found vent in
loud and long-continued cheers. After that more cheers were given, for,
as the hull went to pieces, the boys saw several heads bobbing about in
the angry waters; and although some of them did not pass the breakers,
others did, and those who reached the smooth water on the other side
were promptly rescued by the boats. Archie called out the number of the
saved as fast as he saw them taken from the water, and when he said,
“That makes eleven,” Uncle Dick’s surprise and delight were almost
unbounded.
“I don’t see how in the world they ever got through those breakers,”
said he, “but I’m glad all the same that they did. There’s no loss
without some gain. If we hadn’t been blown in here not one of those
eleven men, that we may be the means of restoring to home and friends
once more, would have been left to tell how his ship was destroyed.
We’re in a scrape that it will take us a good month to work out of, but
we have lost none of our little company, and are still able to be of
service to those who are worse off than ourselves. Do you see any more,
Archie?”
“No, sir. There are a good many pieces of the wreck going through, but I
see no more men. They are transferring all the rescued to one boat now.”
“That’s right. They’re going to bring them aboard. Doctor, keep up a
roaring fire in the galley, and you, men, go below and put on some dry
clothes, and lay out a suit apiece for these poor fellows who have none
of their own to put on.”
The second mate’s boat remained on the ground to pick up any other
unfortunates who might survive the passage of the breakers, while Mr.
Baldwin turned back to take those already rescued on board the schooner.
The boys awaited his approach with no little impatience. They wanted to
be the first to assist the strangers over the side; but when the boat
came up they drew back almost horrified. The rescued men lay motionless
on the bottom of the cutter, and there was only one among them who had
life enough left in him to hold up his head. Utterly exhausted with
their long conflict with the gale, and bruised and battered by the
rocks, they were hoisted aboard more dead than alive, and tenderly
carried into the forecastle and laid upon the bunks. Uncle Dick was kept
busy after that bandaging wounds and administering restoratives from the
schooner’s medicine-chest, and the boys, who wanted to help but did not
know what to do, stood on deck at the head of the ladder watching him.
“I wish we were all doctors,” said Archie, at length. “I don’t like to
stand here with my hands in my pockets, and if I were to go down there I
might be in the way.”
“No doubt you would,” said his cousin. “But still there is something we
can do. We can relieve the crew and give them a chance to sleep. I’ll
speak to Mr. Baldwin.”
So saying, Frank hurried off and held a short consultation with the
first officer. When he came forward again he announced with a great show
of dignity that he was the officer of the deck now, and expected to be
obeyed accordingly. With an assumption of authority that made all the
boys laugh, he ordered Archie to relieve the sentry on the quarter-deck,
placed Bob and Perk to act as anchor watch, and after telling the others
that they might lie down and take a nap if they chose, he placed his
hands behind his back and began planking the weather side of the
quarter-deck.
Mr. Baldwin was much pleased with this arrangement, for it gave him and
the rest of the crew an opportunity to obtain the rest and sleep of
which they stood so much in need. Uncle Dick was satisfied with it, too.
The latter came out of the forecastle about midnight, and when he called
for the officer of the deck was promptly answered by Frank, who in a few
words explained the situation to him. “Have we done right?” he asked.
“Perfectly,” replied Uncle Dick. “It was kind and thoughtful in you, and
I thank you for it. Our poor fellows are almost worn out, and it is a
pity they can’t have beds to sleep in,” he added, glancing at the
stalwart sailors who were stretched out on the deck, slumbering heavily.
“If you and the rest of the boys can stand it until morning they will be
refreshed, and a good breakfast will put them in a fit condition for
work.”
“Oh, we can stand it,” said Frank, “and will do the best we can.”
“I have no fears. I know you will do just what ought to be done. All you
have to do is to see that the anchor holds, and keep your weather eye
directed toward the island. The night is pretty dark, and you must look
out for a surprise, for these natives are bold and cunning. If you see
or hear anything suspicious, bang away without stopping to call me.”
“I will,” said Frank. “How are our friends below?”
“Pretty well pounded, some of them, but I think they will be about soon.
They must have had a hard time by all accounts, but the trouble is they
don’t all tell the same story, and there is no officer among them of
whom I can make inquiries. They are all foremast hands. One says their
ship, the Sea Gull, was just from Melbourne, and another says she was
from Hobart Town, Tasmania.”
“Tasmania!” repeated Frank. “That used to be called Van Diemen’s Land.”
“Yes; and if four of our new friends ought not to be back there at this
minute, I am very much mistaken.”
“Are they convicts?” asked Frank, drawing a long breath.
“I don’t know. Wait till you see them, and then tell me what you think
about it. This trouble is going to interfere with our arrangements a
trifle. This being our second break-up, we have but few spars and little
spare canvas left, so we can only refit here temporarily—in other words,
put up such rigging as will last until we can reach some port where we
can go into the docks and have a regular overhauling. If we are going to
Natal we must cross the Indian Ocean, and I don’t want to venture near
the Mauritius with a leaky vessel. It blows too hard there sometimes. We
have been driven a long way out of our course, and if my calculations
are correct, our nearest port is Hobart Town. We’ll go there, and while
the vessel is being refitted we’ll take a run back into the country and
see how the sheep and cattle herders live. We shall be obliged to stay
there a month or two, and perhaps by the time we are ready to sail again
you boys will decide that you don’t want to go to Japan. If you do, it
will suit me. By the way, I wish you would step into the forecastle
every half hour or so and see if those men want anything. Good-night.”
Uncle Dick went down into his cabin, and Frank walked off where Archie
stood leaning on his musket and watching the island, whose dim outlines
could just be seen through the darkness. “Do you hear or see anything?”
he asked.
“Nothing at all,” answered Archie. “It is dull business, this standing
guard when there’s nothing going on.”
“Well, I’ll relieve you.”
“Oh, no; you stay here and talk to me, and I will hold the musket. What
was it Uncle Dick said about going back to Japan?”
Frank repeated the conversation he had had with the captain, adding:
“You know his heart is set on going to Natal, and I believe that was one
reason why he undertook this voyage. He has often told me that he would
go a long distance just to see a wild elephant once more. If we waste
much more time on our journey we can’t stay a great while in Africa.
Uncle Dick’s wishes ought to be respected.”
“Of course they must be,” said Archie, quickly. “Well, I’d as soon go to
Australia as to Japan. Perhaps we’ll have a chance to knock over a
kangaroo, and that’s an animal I’ve never seen yet.”
“I am not sure that they are to be found in Van Diemen’s Land,” said
Frank.
“Van Diemen’s Land!” echoed Archie. “That’s a convict settlement.”
Frank nodded his head.
“Well, I am just as near the fine fellows who live there as I want to
be,” said his cousin.
“Perhaps you are nearer to some of them at this minute than you imagine.
What would you say if you should see four of them come on deck to-morrow
morning?”
Archie raised his musket to his shoulder, and looked at his cousin. “Did
Uncle Dick say that there are four of them among these strangers?”
“No, he didn’t say so, but I know he thinks so.”
“Whew!” whistled Archie; “here’s fun. I wonder if they wouldn’t be kind
enough to get up some excitement for us if we should ask them?”
“Haven’t you had enough during the last few days? I have.”
“There’s too much of a sameness about these gales and cyclones. We want
a change—something new.”
Archie afterward had occasion to recall this remark. Before many weeks
had passed over his head he found that the men of whom he was speaking
were quite willing to give him all the excitement he wanted, and that,
too, without waiting to be asked to do so.
“But, after all, what can they do?” asked Archie, after thinking a
moment. “They are only four in number, and Dick Lewis and Rodgers can
take care of them.”
With this reflection to comfort him, Archie once more turned his
attention to the island, and Frank went forward to see how the anchor
watch were getting on, and to tell them and the rest of the unwelcome
discovery Uncle Dick had made. Of course the boys were all interested
and excited, and wished that morning would come so that they might see
what sort of looking fellows the convicts were. Frank also told them of
the change Uncle Dick proposed to make in their route ahead, and they
were all satisfied with it.
Nothing happened that night that is worthy of record. The wearied
sailors slumbered in safety, while Frank and his companions looked out
for the vessel, and walked the deck, and told stories to keep themselves
awake. The Stranger dragged twice before morning, but each time a little
more chain was let out, and finally enough weight was added to her
anchor to make her ride securely. Frank visited the forecastle every
half hour to hand a glass of water to one of the rescued men, or moisten
the bandages of another, and during these visits he picked out four of
the patients whom he thought to be the escaped convicts. One of them was
the nearest approach to a giant he had ever seen. Even Dick Lewis would
have looked small beside him. He reminded Frank of Boson, the third mate
of the Tycoon, only he was a great deal larger and stronger. The man was
sleeping soundly, and Frank leaned against his bunk and took a good look
at him.
“If these four fellows should attempt any mischief, I don’t know whether
Dick and Rodgers could take care of them or not,” thought he. “I’m
afraid they’d have their hands full with this one man.”
Frank went on deck feeling as he had never felt before. He was not sorry
that the man had been saved from the breakers, but somehow he could not
help wishing that he had been picked up by some vessel besides the
Stranger. If there was any faith to be put in appearances, the man was
but little better than a brute, and Frank told himself that the sooner
they reached some port and put him ashore, the sooner he would feel at
his ease again.
Uncle Dick came on deck at 5 o’clock, and the boys all went below to
take a short nap; but their short nap turned out to be a long one, for
having had no sleep worth mentioning for four nights in succession, they
were lost in a dreamless slumber almost as soon as they touched their
bunks, and it was twelve o’clock before they awoke. Then they were
aroused by the roar of the twenty-four pounder over their heads. They
started up in great alarm, and pulling on their clothes with all
possible haste, rushed to the deck expecting to find the natives
approaching to attack the vessel, and perhaps clambering over the side.
But they were most agreeably disappointed. About half of the crew of the
Stranger, aided by some of the rescued men, were busy setting things to
rights, and a short distance from the schooner was the cutter, which was
pulling toward the beach.
“Did I frighten you?” asked Uncle Dick, as the boys crowded up the
ladder. “Your faces say I did. That boat out there is going ashore after
some timber for spars, and that shrapnel was a notice to the natives to
keep out of the way.”
“Oh!” said the boys, who were all greatly relieved.
They took another look at the boat, ran their eyes along the beach to
make sure that there were no natives in sight, and then turned their
attention to the rescued men, who were working with the crew. There were
five of them—Uncle Dick said the others were not yet able to leave their
bunks—and conspicuous among them was the giant whom Frank had picked out
as one of the escaped convicts. All the boys opened their eyes as they
looked at him. Even Frank was astonished. Now that he could see the
whole of him he looked larger than he did while he was lying in his
bunk. “What do you think of him, Mr. Baldwin?” asked Eugene, after
trying in vain to induce his uncle to express an opinion.
“I think there is only one place in the world that he’s fit for,” was
the reply.
“What place is that?”
“The place he came from.”
Some other conversation followed, and when the boys went below they told
one another that Mr. Baldwin fully expected that Waters—that was the
name the giant had given—would occasion trouble sooner or later. “And if
he once gets started it will take all the men in the vessel to subdue
him,” said Eugene, somewhat anxiously.
“Will it?” exclaimed Archie. “I can show you one who will manage him
alone.”
“Who is he?”
“Dick Lewis.”
“Now let me tell you what’s a fact,” said Perk. “Dick can’t stand up
against an avalanche.”
“You’ll see,” said Archie, who had unbounded confidence in his backwoods
friend. “You’ll see.”
And sure enough they did.