"Where away, my man?" shouted Commander Nesbitt, who, at the same
moment, came up on the poop and was scanning the horizon on his own
account. "How does she bear, eh?"
"Two points off the weather bow, sir," replied the lookout from the
foretopsail yard. "We're rising her now, sir; and I can see one of her
masts, though the rest of her spars seem to have gone by the board."
"All right, my man, keep her in your eye," sang back the commander, who
then turned to the helmsman. "Give her more lee helm, quartermaster;
and see if you can't luff her up a couple of points! Watch, trim sails!
Head lee braces! Brace up your head yards!"
With this, we hauled our wind; and, by bracing the yards sharp up and
keeping her full and bye, we were able to bring the ship's head a bit
more to the westward than we had been previously sailing, steering now
south-west by south instead of sou'-sou'-west as before, which was as
near as we could get her to proceed in the direction where the lookout
man had reported the vessel.
By Eight Bells, we could make out the derelict clearly from the deck;
and, shortly after breakfast when we had closed her within half-a-mile,
we could see that somehow or other she had got terribly knocked about,
her bulwarks having been carried away, as well as most of her spars and
rigging, only the stump of her mainmast being left still standing, with
the yard, which had parted at the slings, hanging down all a-cockbill.
There was a portion of the shrouds left, also, and the backstay; but, of
everything else, as far as we could judge at that distance, a clean
sweep had been made fore and aft and the vessel seemed to be a complete
wreck.
The commander's keen eyes, however, caught sight of something, which at
the first glance had escaped the notice of both lookout and signalman;
not to speak of the many officers who stood around on the poop,
scrutinising the dismantled vessel through their glasses, none of whom
had observed this object until Commander Nesbitt pointed it out.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed abruptly. "What is that lashed to the rigging on
her port beam?"
Every glass was instantly directed to the point he had indicated.
"It's a man, sir," said the signalman, noticing the object on its now
being pointed out to him, very wise after the event, as most of us are
disposed to be in everyday life. "I think I can see him move, sir."
"Yes, by Jove!" cried Mr Jellaby, who stood near, holding on to one of
the davits, jumping up on the gunwale to have a better view. "There he
is waving one of his arms now!"
"I don't know about that, imagination sometimes goes a great way in
these matters," observed Commander Nesbitt, after carefully inspecting
the battered hulk with the glass Mr Jellaby handed him; "but, at all
events, we'll send a boat aboard and see. Bosun's mate, pipe the watch
to stand by to heave the ship to! Clew up the courses. Square the main
yard!"
Larkyns, being, as I mentioned before, signal midshipman, had gone down
to report the fact of our being close up with the wreck to Captain
Farmer, who now appeared on the scene of action.
He at once gave an order for the first cutter to be lowered and
preparations made for boarding the strange vessel, an order which was
immediately carried into effect.
"Mr Jellaby had better go in charge of the boat, sir, I should think,"
suggested the commander. "There's a bit of a sea running and I don't
like sending a midshipman in such a case; for, you know, sir, we cannot
expect old heads on young shoulders."
"All right, Nesbitt," replied the captain; "do as you like."
This was a great disappointment to Ned Anstruther, who had come on deck
fully equipped for the expedition in his sea boots and monkey jacket.
He had hurriedly dressed himself on hearing the cutter piped away as he
was her proper officer, it being the general custom on board a
man-of-war for each of the ship's boats to be under the charge of one of
the midshipmen, who invariably goes away in her under all circumstances
of wind or weather for whatever duty she may be required.
There is little doubt that it is mainly owing to this practice of being
early trained to exercise their judgment and discretion, and taught to
command as well as to obey when young, that the officers of our service
acquire that dash and readiness of action which is usually found
lacking, it may be asserted without being accused of any insular
prejudice or partiality, amongst those of other nations, who never have
the same opportunities extended to them as a rule until they are almost
too old to learn.
Boat service has been the school that brought forth the Nelsons and
Rodneys of the past, as it has produced the Hornbys and Kanes and
Beresfords of the navy of to-day, so to speak; and, whether our sailors
have to fight behind wooden walls or in armoured turrets, the practice
will continue to teach self-reliance and the use of brains.
Ay, boat service will always stand our sailors, officers and men alike,
in good stead; despite the fact that they go to sea now in "floating
factories" instead of on board ships such as our forefathers learnt
their seamanship in, and that modern scientists, who treat everything on
strictly theoretical principles, and, though have never smelt blue
water, lay down laws for our guidance in the naval tactics of the
future, dictating how we are to act and fight and manoeuvre under any
and every possible prearranged contingency!
It was an awful sell, therefore, for poor Ned Anstruther when Mr
Jellaby was deputed to the charge of his boat and he was thus "left out
in the cold," as the saying goes!
Nor was his mortification in any way lessened when the commander told
him that the reason why he would not let him go, was because he could
not swim properly; for there might be danger in getting alongside the
wreck, with the wind and sea that was on.
So, Ned did not appear at all pleased when the lieutenant stepped
forward to take his place in the cutter, giving him an envious look when
he took his seat in the sternsheets prior to her being lowered down. I,
too, cast an appealing glance at Mr Jellaby; and this, fortunately for
me, Commander Nesbitt intercepted.
"I suppose you would like to go, youngster, eh?" he said to me. "Well,
you may, if you like. I know that you can keep yourself afloat, at any
rate if you get capsized, from what I learnt of your experiences the
other day at Spithead; and, perhaps, Mr Jellaby may find you of use.
Jump in, my boy."
It is hardly necessary to say how promptly I obeyed the order.
As my dear old Dad would have expressed it, "Sharp was the word and
quick the action."
All the cutter's passengers, however, were not yet aboard.
"Hold on, there!" cried Captain Farmer, as the falls were slackened off
and the boat slowly lowered down into the heaving water alongside, the
waves coming half-way up the counter to meet her. "I think the doctor
had better go with you, Mr Jellaby. There may be some poor fellow on
the wreck in need of immediate medical aid; and it will be a great
saving of time, indeed, it may be the means of saving a life, if it be
on the spot instead of your having to send back to the ship for it.
Sentry, pass the word below for Dr Nettleby."
We did not have to wait long; for, almost as soon as the captain's
message could have reached the main deck, the doctor made his appearance
on the poop, accompanied by my old friend, Corporal Macan, carrying a
surgical case and a roll of bandages, while the neck of a
suspicious-looking flask could be also seen peeping out from one of his
pockets.
In another minute or so, Dr Nettleby and his factotum managed to slide
down by the aid of the after life-line into the sternsheets of the boat;
though, they took their seats in a rather hurried fashion beside the
lieutenant and myself.
Then, watching our opportunity to lower away, we managed so to time it
that the cutter lighted on the crest of one of the rollers.
This took us some yards away from the ship's side with the following
swell of the sea; when our oars were dropped into the water at the word
of command and we made for the wreck.
It was a stiff piece of work reaching her, for wind and waves were both
against us and rowing difficult; the cutter at one moment being on the
top of a mountainous billow and the next plunged deep down into a
yawning valley of green water, the broken ridges of which curled over
our gunwales on either hand, threatening to overwhelm us till we, rose
again beyond their clutch.
But, the men "putting their backs into it," and the coxswain steering
judiciously so as to prevent the boat from broaching to, we finally got
alongside the battered hulk.
We boarded her under the forechains to leeward, as she was down by the
head, with a considerable list to port; and this seemed the safest point
at which to approach her.
Getting close up, the bowman at once threw a grapnel that caught in some
of the loose ropes hanging over the side; and, before we were well
alongside, Mr Jellaby had scrambled up on to the forecastle of the
ill-fated vessel.
Dr Nettleby and myself were not far behind him, Corporal Macan and
Bill Bates, the coxswain of the cutter, following to render any
assistance that might be necessary; the boat meanwhile being veered away
to the end of the grapnel rope so as to be out of harm's way and yet
within easy reach of us as soon as we might want to go on board her
again.
On gaining the deck, the scene presented to our gaze was piteous beyond
all description, the ship appearing to have been first run into by some
other craft and then left to drift about at the mercy of the elements.
Her starboard bow had been cut right through up to the head of the
foremast, which had been carried away completely, with all its spars and
rigging, as well as the bowsprit and maintopmast.
In addition to these, the mizzen and everything aft had gone; not a
stick being left standing in her save the stump of the mainmast, as our
lookout man had reported soon after just sighting her, as well as part
of the lower rigging amidships.
Besides this, a section of the mainyard that had snapped in two at the
slings was still held aloft by the truss, the other end of the spar
having brought up, against the chain-plates, the brace being twisted
round the shrouds and deadeyes in the most wonderful way!
Mr Jellaby, however, did not stop to notice these details, but made his
way as well as he could through the maze of tangled cordage and heaps of
wreckage that lay about in every direction towards the portion of the
main rigging yet remaining intact, where, lashed to a fragment of the
bulwarks that had not been washed away, was the figure of the man
Commander Nesbitt had noticed.
There was no doubt now of his being alive; for, he was gesticulating
violently and waving his arms about like those of a windmill.
The rolling of the ship and the clean breach which the sea made across
the open deck amidships rendered the task of reaching the poor fellow
all the harder; but, watching his chance between the lurches of the
water-logged barque and clambering over the wreckage that rilled the
waist from the forecastle up to the main hatchway, Mr Jellaby was able
at last to get near enough to hear the voice of the man, who was a most
ragged and miserable-looking creature, and was yelling out wildly as if
he were insane in the intervals of his frantic motions, when there was a
lull in the noise of the waves.
"He's saying something, doctor," he cried to Dr Nettleby, who had
pluckily followed him up close, albeit so much older a man. "See if you
can make him out; I don't understand the lingo."
The doctor listened for a moment and shook his head.
"It's no language that I can recognise," he said after a pause, as if
thinking over all the dialects he had ever come across in his
wanderings. "The poor chap has evidently gone mad and is jabbering some
gibberish or other. Look how his eyes are rolling!"
By this time, however, I had managed to come up to where Mr Jellaby and
the doctor were holding on to the backstay, and as the wind just then
dropped for an instant and the deafening din of the clashing waters
ceased, I caught a word or two out of a long sentence which the
unfortunate man screamed out at the moment at the top of his voice.
"He's talking Spanish, sir!" I exclaimed, much to the surprise of my
seniors. "I can make out something that sounds like `por Dios,' which
means `for the love of God,' sir."
"Indeed!" said Mr Jellaby, gripping hold of one of the clewlines which
hung down from the broken yard and swayed about in the wind, preparing
to swing himself across the encumbered deck to the port shrouds beyond,
where the man was lashed. "I didn't know you were so good a linguist,
young Vernon. By Jove, you'll be of more use than I thought you would
be when the commander told me to take you with me."
"Oh!" I cried, rather shamefaced at this, "I only know a little of the
language. I learnt it when I was in the West Indies with my father. We
lived in one of the islands where there were a lot of Spaniards, and I
heard their lingo spoken often enough."
"Well, anyway, it's lucky that you know something about it now, for you
can keep your ears cocked and hear what the poor beggar says, while we
try to release him from his uncomfortable billet. Here, Bates, bear a
hand!"
So saying, Mr Jellaby swung himself across the frothing chasm that lay
between him and the object of his pity, with the coxswain of the cutter
after him, while Dr Nettleby and I remained by the mainmast bitts,
Corporal Macan busying himself in getting the doctor's medical traps
ready for immediate use.
I soon had to exercise my new office of interpreter, for the man began
shouting again on seeing Mr Jellaby and the coxswain near him.
"Ah del buque!" he screamed out, holding up, as if to signal with it,
one of his emaciated hands, the bony fingers of which looked like those
of a skeleton.
"Como se llama el buque?"
"He says `ship ahoy!' sir," I explained to the doctor. "`What ship is
that?'"
"Tell him who we are, then," replied Dr Nettleby. "He is probably out
of his mind, but it may quiet him."
"Somos marineros Inglesas--we are English sailors," I therefore cried in
as shrill a key as I could to reach his ear, raking up the almost
forgotten memories of my early years, and, I'm afraid, speaking very bad
Spanish. "Del buque de guerra el Candahar de la regna Ingleterra--we
belong to Her Majesty's ship, _Candahar_!"
Bad Spanish or not, however, the poor fellow understood me.
"Gracias a Dios!" he said, his wild eyes brightening with a gleam of
intelligence, as Mr Jellaby and Bill Bates, having unloosed him from
the ropes by which he was seized up to the rigging, brought him across
the deck to the doctor, who at once put a small quantity of brandy
between his lips. "Habran llegado a tiempo."
"What is that, eh?"
"`Thanks be to God,'" I replied, translating what he had said. "`You've
just come in time.'"
"He never made a truer statement," observed the doctor, significantly,
as he plied him gently from time to time with the spirit, keeping his
hand on his pulse the while. "In another half-hour he would have been a
dead man; for, his circulation is down to nothing!"
Presently, the effects of the brandy told upon the poor fellow and he
sprang suddenly to his feet by a sort of spasmodic effort, knocking
Corporal Macan backwards into the water which was washing about the deck
around us as he stood up.
"Ah los marineros cobardes!" he cried. "Vamos printo, hascia abajo!"
"Hullo, Vernon," said Mr Jellaby. "What's he talking about now, eh?"
"I believe he's referring to the crew who deserted the ship and left him
behind to his fate, sir," I answered, "for he has spoken of the
`cowardly sailors,' as he calls them. I think they must have been curs,
sir, to have left him to die tied up like that, sir!"
"Anything else, eh?"
"He also says, `be quick and look below.' I suppose he means for us to
examine the vessel's hold."
"Si si--yes, yes," exclaimed the rescued man as I said this, seeming to
understand what I suggested. "Abajo--abajo--go below! go below!"
He nodded his head also as he spoke, looking towards the after part of
the wreck and pointing downwards with his finger; while a shudder of
horror passed over his corpse-like face, the dark hair surrounding which
made it look all the paler.
"By Jove, I think there is something in what you say, my boy," cried the
lieutenant, moving away at once in the direction indicated as quickly as
he could, telling the coxswain to follow him. "I ought to have
overhauled the cabin before. The sea is getting up again, I notice;
and, we'll soon have to shove off from here if we wish to get back to
our own ship again!"
The moment the Spaniard saw Mr Jellaby start off on this mission, he
drew a deep breath of satisfaction.
"Buena, buena--good, good!" he murmured softly, as if talking to
himself. "Soy muy mal--I feel very ill!"
He then threw up his arms and dropped down as if he had been shot,
Corporal Macan just catching him in time, crying out in a loud tone as
he fell, louder indeed than he had yet spoken, as if giving a peremptory
order--
"Fonde el ancla!"
"Begorrah, I can't say to his ankles!" said the Irishman, not
understanding of course what he said, and mistaking the sound of the
words. "Till him they're all right, sor. Faix it's all I can do to
hould his arms, let alone his legs, sure!"
"Nonsense, Macan," I cried, not able to keep from laughing. "He didn't
say anything about his ankles, or legs either."
"Thin, what did he say, sor, if ye'll excuse me for axin?"
"`Fonde el ancla,'" I replied, "means, you donkey, to `let go the
anchor!'"