"All very fine for you, my lads," grumbled the coxswain, "but see what a
wetting I got."
"Vandean, my lad," whispered the lieutenant, "that idea of yours saved
us," and he caught and pressed the lad's cold hand. Then aloud: "Now,
my lads, get the oars in under the thwarts, so that they don't float
out, and then you, Dance, and you, Tom Fillot, in over the side and
begin baling."
The boat was floating with its gunwale level with the water, and the two
men had only to press the side a bit and literally roll in, to squat
down and begin baling; for, to the great delight of all, it was found
that the locker in the bows was unopened, though full of water, and a
couple of tin balers were fished out from amidst some tackle. Directly
after, working with all their might, the men began to make the water fly
out in showers.
Meanwhile the oars were collected and thrust down into the boat beneath
the thwarts, along with the hitcher, and the rest of the little crew
held on by the gunwale outside.
For a time this seemed to remain level with the surface, but the two
balers toiled so hard that in a short time the lieutenant turned to
Mark, and said shortly--"In with you."
The lad looked at him in wonder, but junior officers have to obey, and
he crept in over the side, and getting right aft, began to scoop out the
water with his joined hands.
A quarter of an hour later a fresh order was given, and two more men got
into the boat to seat themselves and take the balers, while the pair who
had been acting prepared to get out again and hang on.
But a short, sharp order checked them.
"There is no need, my lads," said the lieutenant. "You can begin
scooping out water as soon as you are a bit rested. The boat will hold
you now."
He was quite right, for, though the presence of four men weighed her
down heavily, and sent her gunwale once more nearly level with the
surface, it soon began to rise again as, pint by pint, the interior was
relieved, until another man crept in, and soon after another, till the
whole crew were back, and the lieutenant got in last.
Ten minutes later two men forward were steadily baling, whilst two
others seized their oars, under the lieutenant's direction, and getting
the boat's head round as they sat there with the water still well up
over their ankles, they began to pull steadily in the direction of the
_Nautilus_, now nearly invisible in the distant silvery haze.
They were still so heavily water-logged that progress was very slow, but
this was no discouragement, for their position improved minute by
minute, and the men were so much cheered that they put plenty of spirit
into their work.
But before they had taken many strokes the lieutenant gave the order to
stop, and Mark shuddered as he saw the reason. Mr Russell had turned
to the rudder-lines, and there was a terrible burden towing astern.
Those were solemn moments which followed. The lieutenant signed to the
coxswain to come, and then helped him to draw the lifeless body of the
poor fellow over the gunwale, and, as decently as was possible, laid the
remains of what had once been a big, strong man in the bottom of the
boat. A flag was then taken from the locker and covered over him, just
as, by a strange coincidence, and very faintly heard, came the report of
a gun.
The coxswain then went forward and helped with the baling, while the men
recommenced rowing in silence.
"The lads will think all this unnecessary, Vandean," said the lieutenant
in a low voice, as Mark sat by his side; "but it would be horribly
un-English to leave the poor wretch floating at the mercy of the waves.
He was free enough, poor fellow, before we shaded him with the British
flag. What would you have done?"
"As you have, sir," replied the lad. "I couldn't have left him behind,
though it seems very horrible to have taken him on board, and to have
him here with us in the night."
"All fanciful sentiment, Van, my lad. What is there in that poor fellow
now to excite our fear? Come, you must be more manly than that. Cold?"
"Yes; very, now."
"So am I, my lad. These wet things are not comfortable. We'll take to
the oars and row for a bit to keep off the chill. Why, Vandean, you
ought to be well praised for this night's work. I feel quite ashamed of
myself for letting you suggest a way out of our difficulty with the
capsized boat."
"Oh, it was nothing, sir. It just occurred to me," replied Mark.
"I wish it had just occurred to me, my lad; and what is more, I wish we
could see the _Nautilus_ coming towards us with the slave schooner
astern, but there is no such good fortune in store for us till morning."
By this time the water was getting very low in the bottom of the boat,
and ordering the coxswain aft to steer, the lieutenant took the oar of
Tom Fillot, who was rowing stroke, sent him forward, and then made Mark
take the oar of the next man. They both pulled steadily together for
the next half hour, Mr Russell telling the coxswain how to steer, so as
to keep steadily in the wake of the _Nautilus_, which had now for long
enough been out of sight.
The long row thoroughly circulated Mark's blood, driving away all the
feeling of chill, so that it was with a pleasant glowing sensation that
the lad took his place once more in the stern-sheets to sit beside the
lieutenant, and with him anxiously look-out ahead in the hope of seeing
some sign of the ship.
"She may send up a rocket, mayn't she, Mr Russell?" said Mark, after a
long silence, during which the boat had risen and fallen with the swell,
and felt beating with a living pulsation as the men toiled steadily on
at their oars.
"Rocket? Well, yes, she may, but I doubt whether we could see it at
this distance."
"Then she is very far-away?"
"Very, my lad. You see that she is out of sight."
"And suppose we have lost sight of her altogether, sir--what then?"
"What then? Oh, don't let's calculate upon things that are barely
possible. Captains in Her Majesty's service are too particular about
their juniors and ship's company to leave a boat's crew in the lurch."
"Yes, but Captain Maitland might not be able to find us again, sir."
"Come, come, my lad, don't croak like a raven. At your age you ought to
be hopeful, and set me an example of high spirits. Don't begin
imagining the worst."
"Who's going to be hopeful," muttered Tom Fillot to the man behind him,
"with the body o' that poor nigger aboard? Strikes me that we're in for
a spell o' bad luck, mates."
"What's that?" cried the lieutenant.
"Only having a bit of a grumble, your honour, about our luck," said the
man, respectfully. "We're all feeling as if it was time our watch
ended, and as though we'd like a bit o' something to eat and drink.
That's all, sir."
The man's oar dipped steadily as he spoke, and after that there was a
dead silence on board. The last drop of water had been swabbed up and
squeezed overboard, and the exercise had helped to dry the men's
saturated garments. A steady progress was kept up, and after fighting
back a heavy, drowsy feeling, Mark sat watching the setting stars away
straight before him in the direction in which the _Nautilus_ had
disappeared. Twenty times over it had seemed to him as if the night
would never end, and in spite of his officer's cheering utterances, his
spirits sank very low, as he wondered whether it would not have been
better if the boat's head had been turned, so that they might have rowed
due east, to make the land from which they had sailed.
Then the moon began to sink lower, and the sky to grow of a darker slaty
colour, while the regular beat of the men's oars sounded distant--then
very softly--and then ceased altogether, or so it appeared to Mark
Vandean, who suddenly opened his eyes with a start, and gazed
wonderingly about him at the sunlit sea, now all orange and gold.
"Have I been to sleep, sir?" he cried apologetically.
"Yes, my lad; sound asleep for hours."
"And the ship, sir--can you see the _Nautilus_?"
"No, my lad," said the lieutenant, in a voice which he tried to make
cheerful, but whose tones spoke of the deep despondency in his breast.
"She is not in sight yet."
The midshipman glanced sharply at the heavy, saddened countenances of
the men, and read there a reflection of his own thoughts, that they were
far-away on the wide ocean in an open boat without food or water,
exhausted by a long night's rowing, and in an hour the torrid sun would
be beating down upon their heads.
Hunger--thirst--heat--all three to fight; but there was a worse enemy
still--despair, as a torrent of recollections flashed through the lad's
brain, and he felt that unless the _Nautilus_ hove in sight, their
position was less to be envied than that of the poor negro lying dead
beneath the flat which hid his face from their sight.