What had happened to Roger is already known to the reader, and what
befell Harry after the explosion on board the _Maria Dolorosa_ may be
very shortly recounted.
The shock of his plunge into the cold water brought him to his senses in
time to prevent him from drowning, and his first thought was to look
after Roger; but his friend was nowhere to be seen. He shouted his name
in vain for some time, and then started to swim towards his own ship,
which lay quite near, in the faint hope that perhaps his friend might
have been seen and rescued by her.
He made enquiries immediately on reaching the deck of the ship, but
could elicit no information as to Roger's whereabouts, and everybody on
board was much too busy with his own work of fighting the three
remaining Spanish ships to pay any attention to Harry. But he could not
thus easily resign himself to Roger's loss, and he peered over the lee
bulwarks in an endeavour to discover his friend's body, if it were still
afloat.
He could, however, see nothing of it, and was beginning to fear that he
had indeed lost his dear friend and the companion of his boyhood, when
from the _Gloria del Mundo_, the Spanish ship which was nearest to him,
he saw a boat lowered, which pulled away in the direction of a floating
piece of wreckage which he had not until then noticed. He saw the boat
row up close to this wreckage, and take from it a body which appeared to
be hanging limply across it; and, looking more intently, he felt almost
certain that the body was that of Roger. The boat pulled back to the
_Gloria del Mundo_, and was hoisted on board.
If the body was indeed that of Roger, then, thank Heaven! he was safe
for the time being; but the poor lad was nevertheless still in a very
precarious situation, being on board a Spanish ship. Harry could see
also that the vessel was in manifest distress, and had apparently not
much longer to float.
It was some time after this that Cavendish, having at length disposed of
his previous antagonist, ordered his ship to be laid alongside the
_Gloria del Mundo_, with the object of capturing her out of hand, and
making a prize of her before she sank. This was accordingly done, and
the crash which Roger had heard, followed by the cries and musketry, was
indeed, as he believed, the result of the English vessel being laid
alongside and the rush of the English boarders.
It goes without saying that Harry was among the first to board, and he
immediately commenced his search for Roger, but unluckily began it in a
totally different quarter from that in which Roger had been placed.
The _Gloria del Mundo_ was soon in the hands of the English, but it was
found that she was sinking too fast for them to save her, and the
boarders were at once recalled.
Harry, however, determined not to leave without his friend, and he was
therefore left behind when the Englishmen returned to their own vessel.
The grapnels uniting the two ships were cut, and at once the craft began
to drift apart, Harry being left on board the Spanish vessel searching
for Roger.
How he found him and rescued him, obtaining possession of certain
documents at the very last moment, and hoisted Roger on deck even as the
ship swamped beneath their feet, has already been told.
Now, as to the result of the action. Of the two ships first engaged by
the English--the _Maria Dolorosa_ and the _Buena Vista_--the latter had
been sunk at the commencement of the action, and the former had blown
up.
The third ship, the _Gloria del Mundo_, had sunk. The _Salvador_ and
_El Capitan_ were the only two of the Spanish fleet that still remained
afloat, and both were fearfully knocked about. The _Salvador_ had lost
all her masts, every one of her boats had been smashed to pieces by the
gun-fire of the English, and her sides were everywhere perforated with
shot-holes. But a prize crew had been put on board her, and was now
hard at work patching her up and rendering her seaworthy, rigging
jury-masts, cutting away wreckage, and otherwise putting her once more
into sailing trim. _El Capitan_ was in a similar condition. She had
still her mizzenmast standing; but otherwise she was as badly damaged as
her companion, and was undergoing the same repairs and refit.
The Spaniards who had escaped on board the _Salvador_ and _El Capitan_
from the other vessels, and the crews of the two ships themselves still
left alive, had been divided into five batches, one being put on board
each ship. This was done by way of precaution, since, thus separated,
there was much less likelihood of their attempting to recapture their
own ships or take those of the English.
The English squadron had suffered almost as badly, for although none of
the vessels had been sunk, they were all in a very seriously damaged
condition. Cavendish's vessel, the _Stag Royal_, had lost all her
masts, and was in great danger of foundering, her appearance being that
of a huge mass of wreckage rather than a ship; but the carpenters were
hard at work on her, and were making good her defects as quickly as
possible.
The other two vessels of the English fleet, the _Elizabeth_ and the
_Good Adventure_, were not quite so much cut up as the ship of the
commodore, but stood in need of a good deal of repair before they would
be again serviceable.
The English had put prize crews on board the two Spanish ships, sadly
depleting the companies of their own ships, and all hands were kept hard
at the work of repair, for Cavendish knew that, in the event of a gale
springing up, none of the ships would weather it in their existing
condition. It was very trying work, too, this patching up of the
vessels at sea, and at the best it could be nothing more than a
temporary repair. But at last, after three days of incessant toil, all
five of the craft were reported as fit to proceed on the voyage. Yet it
was agreed that they ought to run for some place where the ships might
be beached, careened, and overhauled thoroughly; otherwise they could
not be trusted to weather the storms which they would inevitably meet
with on their proposed cruising-ground, which was the Caribbean Sea.
Cavendish therefore summoned a conclave of the captains of his little
squadron in the cabin of the flag-ship, to decide upon some place where
they might go to execute the necessary repairs.
The charts were got out and laid upon the table; courses were laid off
to various places, and the distances thereto measured and calculated;
and after some discussion it was decided unanimously that they should
run for the West India Islands, trusting that they might meet with no
Spanish squadron either on the way or at their rendezvous for
overhauling.
The place they agreed to make for was the eastern end of the island of
Cuba, as this island lay on their direct course for the Caribbean Sea
and the coast of Mexico, where they intended to cruise in the hope of
picking up some plate-laden galleon from Vera Cruz or Tampico.
This island of Cuba was, it is true, a Spanish possession, but it was at
this time newly discovered and only very sparsely populated. So, by
keeping to the eastern extremity of the island, and maintaining a sharp
lookout whilst the ships were in the process of careening, they hoped to
avoid any encounter with their enemies until, the ships being properly
repaired and once more serviceable, they should find themselves in a
position to resume their cruise with a view to the securing of more
prizes.
The squadron of five ships which they had just beaten had been sent out
from Cadiz to intercept Cavendish and prevent him from reaching the
Indies, and, being a war fleet, had no treasure on board. The gain to
the English consisted, therefore, solely in the acquisition of two more
ships for their little fleet; but this was not altogether an unmixed
blessing, because, with the obligation to man their extra two vessels,
the whole five were now short-handed.
Cavendish gave his orders to his captains, which were that the five
vessels should make for the eastern end of Cuba, and, if separated, meet
at a spot the bearings of which he gave them, about a day's sail from
the island, whence they would proceed in company, so as to arrive at
their agreed destination all together.
It now remained to appoint two captains to the prizes and put prize
crews on board them, and this was soon done. Cavendish appointed the
first and second officers of his flag-ship as captains of the two
captured Spanish ships, replacing his first officer by the third, a man
named Leigh, and appointing Roger to the vacant post of second officer.
It had been his intention to promote Harry to a position as officer on
one of the captured ships, but the lad begged so hard to be allowed to
remain in the same vessel as Roger that Cavendish at last consented,
adding that he thought Harry was throwing away an opportunity which
might not again occur. So long as he might remain by Roger's side,
however, Harry did not very much care. "Besides," thought he, "we made
a compact to remain always by one another, and I am sure Roger would
have stayed with me had I been appointed instead of him."
The signal was now made for all sail possible to be carried, so that
they might the sooner reach their rendezvous and begin the work of
overhauling and repairs of which they stood in such urgent need. If
separated by storm or any other mischance they were to meet at the place
agreed upon during the conclave in the cabin of the flag-ship.
Sail was made accordingly, and the little squadron, now increased by two
ships, but with sadly diminished crews, resumed its voyage.
For the first three days all went smoothly, the speed of the whole being
regulated by the pace of the slowest vessel in the squadron. On the
evening of the third day, however, the weather showed signs of changing.
They had been sailing along with a good following breeze, the sky
overhead a deep, cloudless, sapphire blue, and the sea smooth enough to
relieve them from all uneasiness. Now, however, the sun was sinking
toward the horizon like a ball of dull red copper, and the western sky,
instead of being clear as previously, was heavy with black clouds that
were banking up and threatening to obscure the sun ere it set.
Overhead, too, deep violet clouds made their appearance, tinged here and
there to lurid red and orange by the rays of the fast-disappearing
luminary. The air, moreover, felt dull and heavy, and carried a
peculiar odour not unlike brimstone. This singular condition of the
atmosphere was not without its effect on the men, who felt listless and
disinclined to work. A sense of impending peril seemed to be hanging
over all. The wind, too, was gradually dying away, and came fitfully
and at intervals in hot, sulphurous puffs. The sea, which had been
sparkling in thousands of tiny wavelets in the rays of the sun, began to
assume a dark and oily appearance; and a long swell was beginning to
make itself felt, causing the sails, as they drooped against the masts,
to flap noisily with a sound like the crack of an arquebuse.
Gradually the sky grew blacker and more overcast, and the sea assumed
the appearance of ink. The five ships of the squadron were all well
within sight of one another, and lay motionless save for their uneasy
heaving to the swell which was now fast-rising. Having lost
steerage-way, they were "boxing the compass", that is, were heading
first in one direction and then in another, their bows slowly swinging
until they pointed in various directions. Cavendish was on deck,
looking anxiously at the sky, and presently he gave the order to all
hands to shorten sail, and hailed the ship lying nearest to him to do
the same.
The other vessels were lying too far away for a hail to carry, and there
was no wind to lift the signal flags if hoisted; but the commodore was
relieved to see the remainder of the fleet follow his example. In a few
moments the canvas of the whole squadron was seen coming heavily down or
being rolled up on the yards; and before very long all the ships were
either under bare poles or being snugged down with everything secured
ready for any emergency.
Cavendish, however, still remained very anxious: and he had cause enough
for his anxiety. For his squadron had only recently come through a
heavy action, and their timbers were strained; masts had been merely
secured in a temporary manner, and the necessary stays and fore and aft
preventers had not yet all been rigged; indeed, the process of bending
new sails, ropes, etcetera, was still being gone on with although the
ships had been got under way at the earliest possible moment.
Shot-holes had been only roughly plugged, and in some of the vessels
pumping was still being carried on day and night. The two prizes had
been knocked about still more badly; in fact the whole squadron was in a
very unfit state to encounter even a strong gale, and the coming storm
threatened something very much worse than this. But everything was
battened down and made as snug as possible, and all that Cavendish could
now do was to trust in Providence and hope his ships would survive the
tempest, since nothing had been left undone that mortal hands could
possibly do.
A dull moaning sound at length began to make itself heard, and several
hot sulphurous gusts of wind came down out of the north; the blocks
overhead creaked, the cordage rattled, and in the heavy silence weird
noises made themselves perceptible. Roger and Harry were standing on
the poop, exchanging comments on the weather, and Cavendish and his
chief officer, Richard Leigh, were in close conversation on the
main-deck just below them, glancing anxiously from time to time toward
the northward, where the sky had become black almost as midnight.
"Look there, Harry," observed Roger, pointing to the main-topgallant
yard; and, looking up, Harry perceived two lambent globes of greenish
fire.
As he continued looking and wondering what they might be, other weird
lights made their appearance on the yard-arms and on the very tops of
the masts, presenting a beautiful, but at the same time a very eerie,
spectacle. The same phenomenon was to be seen on the spars of every
vessel in sight; and as it was by this time very nearly dark (there
being scarcely any twilight in these latitudes), the whole squadron had
the appearance of being illuminated.
"Whatever can it possibly be?" queried Harry; "I have never seen
anything like it before."
"I suspect," returned Roger, "that it is in some way connected with the
approaching storm. I have heard sailors speak of those lights as
witch-lights, death-gleams, and corposants, and their appearance is said
always to foretell disaster. I hope, however, that they do not forebode
evil on this occasion, although things are looking decidedly unpleasant
just now."
Cavendish, hearing their conversation, looked up, and, observing the
apprehension of the two, explained to them that the lights were termed,
by the Portuguese navigators, "Lights of Saint Elmo"; and he assured the
lads that the lights were not the cause of, but the harbingers of,
storm.
"I fear, however," added he, "that we are in for a bad time of it, and
you youngsters had better beware lest you be swept overboard when the
sea rises; for if anyone is washed over the side during what is coming
he will have no chance of being picked up again. So take care, young
men!"
Suddenly Roger perceived, far away to the north, a line of white, which
looked like a thin streak of paint drawn across an ebony background, and
the dull moaning noise in the air quickly grew in volume, at the same
time becoming more shrill. Roger shouted down a warning to Leigh, who
was standing near the wheel, and pointed away in the direction from
which the line of white was approaching. Cavendish, who had just walked
forward to make sure that all was as it should be, heard the warning,
and shouted an order for all on deck to prepare for the outfly, and
then, seizing his speaking-trumpet, rushed up on the poop beside the
boys, and roared out a warning to the only ship within hail. Then,
turning, he told the two lads to get down off the poop on to the
main-deck, where they would be sheltered to a certain extent by the high
bulwarks of the ship. In obedience to this command they hurried down
the starboard accommodation ladder, whilst Cavendish made his way down
the one on the port side, and all three reached the deck together.
Cavendish then shouted some order to Leigh at the wheel, but whatever it
may have been, his words were drowned by the awful shriek and roar of
the hurricane as it burst upon them.
To Harry and Roger, who had never experienced anything of the kind
before, it seemed as though some mighty invisible hand had smitten the
ship, throwing her over on to her beam-ends. She heeled down before the
blast until it seemed as though she would capsize altogether, while the
two boys were precipitated both together across the streaming decks into
the lee scuppers, whence they found it impossible to escape owing to the
excessive slant of the deck.
Leigh was hanging on to the wheel for his life, endeavouring to put the
helm hard up, and so turn the ship's stern to the wind to enable her to
run before the gale--the only course possible under the circumstances.
Cavendish and a few men in the fore-part of the vessel were meanwhile
striving manfully to hoist a staysail and get some way upon the ship, so
as to help her to pay off before the sea, and so save her from being
pooped by the waves, which were rising higher and higher every moment.
At length the stability of the ship prevailed, and she began to right.
Then, Roger and Harry, rushing to Leigh's assistance, helped him to put
the helm up, and the ship paid off and began to scud before the wind,
while Cavendish, encouraging his little body of men up in the eyes of
the ship, managed to get the foresail set, after having had it nearly
blown out of the bolt-ropes.
Looking astern, the boys saw the huge seas rushing after them, each one
threatening to engulf the craft and send her to the bottom; and indeed
that would speedily have been her fate had the men not been able to set
the small rag of sail, and thus made it possible for her to keep ahead
of the waves.
The foaming crests of the sea were ablaze with phosphorescence, and
appeared to tower above the poop as high as the main-topsail-yard, and
the sight of them sweeping along after the ship was positively
appalling. The wind now began to increase in violence, literally
tearing off the summits of the huge waves and sending them in spindrift
hurtling across the deck like showers of shot that cut the face like the
lash of a whip. The uproar was terrific, the shrieking and howling of
the wind blending with the creaking and straining of the timbers of the
labouring ship. Crash succeeded crash aloft, but they could distinguish
nothing of what was happening because of the intense blackness. Yet the
motion of the ship was becoming steadier, for the reason that the wind
was so strong that it was actually beating down the sea.
Suddenly the two lads heard a rending and tearing sound, followed by a
crash quite close to them, as something weighty smote the deck; and
through the fearful din that raged round them there rang out the scream
of a man in agony.
"Harry," said Roger, "that is the mizzenmast come down, and it has
injured some poor fellow! Let us endeavour to reach him if we can."
And, still holding to each other, they began to feel their way carefully
along the deck, which was now encumbered with wreckage.
Suddenly Harry cried out, and fell over something, which proved to be
the wreck of the fallen mast.
"Are you hurt, Harry?" queried Roger.
"No, lad," came the response, "and I think I have found the poor fellow
whose scream we heard just now; he seems to have been crushed by the
mast as it fell. If you will stoop down here, you will be able to feel
his body. Had we but a lever of some kind we might perhaps be able to
raise the mast sufficiently to drag him from underneath it."
Roger climbed over the mast and, feeling for Harry, knelt down beside
him, where he found the body that Harry had fallen upon when he tripped
over the mast.
By touch he found that the poor seaman, whoever he was, was pinned down
immovably to the deck, the mast lying right across the middle of his
body.
Roger put his mouth to the ear of the man, and shouted: "Are you badly
hurt; and can you move with assistance?"
He caught the reply: "Is that you, Master Trevose? I am pinned down by
this spar, and I believe my leg is broken; but if you could manage to
get the mast raised by ever so little, I believe I could scramble out
from under it."
"Can we find a lever anywhere?" shouted Roger.
"There are a couple of handspikes in the rack close to you; if you can
find these, they will do," replied the wounded seaman.
Roger worked his way to the rack indicated by the man, and fortunately
found the handspikes at once. Taking them both, he quickly scrambled
back again and handed one to Harry, retaining the other himself.
The two lads then prized the points under the mast, and threw all their
weight on the shafts, using them as levers. They felt the mast quiver
and move slightly.
"That's the way, Master Trevose; one more lift like that and I'll be out
from under," shouted the man.
Roger and Harry again exerted all their strength, the mast rose
perceptibly, and they heard a cry of pain from the seaman as he wormed
himself from under the spar.
"I be out now, Master," came the voice; "if ye can lift me up and get me
below, I'll thank ye."
One of them supporting him on either side, they raised the unfortunate
fellow upright, and with great difficulty assisted him across the deck,
and so to the companion-hatch, which they found without trouble, as it
was now growing somewhat lighter. The clouds were not quite so thick,
and an occasional gleam came from the moon as she was uncovered.
They got the man below, Roger taking him on his back down the
companion-ladder, while Harry ran for the surgeon. The latter soon made
his appearance, and attended to the sufferer, who proved to be an
ordinary seaman named Morgan.
Having seen the patient off their hands and well attended to, the couple
returned to the deck.
They found that the wind was lessening every moment, and the clouds were
disappearing fast, permitting the moon to shine out fitfully; but the
sea, no longer kept down by the pressure of the wind, was rising
rapidly.
"I think the squall is past its worst, Harry," said Roger. "What we
have to fear now is the sea, which will get worse, I am afraid, ere it
goes down--but look there! Merciful Heaven! what is that?" he
continued, pointing away over their port quarter with his finger.
The inky blackness had lifted somewhat, and they could plainly perceive
the hull of one of their own ships, presumably; but her ports were open,
and her interior appeared as a glowing furnace, while, even as they
looked, tongues of fire spurted up from her deck and began to lick round
her masts, and from the hapless vessel a long wail of anguish and
despair came floating down the wind.
Every eye in the ship was at once turned to the burning vessel, which
they presently made out to be, by her rig, the _Salvador_, one of the
two captured Spanish vessels.
What seemed to have happened was that the Spanish prisoners confined
below had fired the ship before the squall came down, in the hope of
being able to overpower their captors in the ensuing confusion, trusting
to luck for the opportunity to extinguish the conflagration afterwards.
The storm arising after they had set fire to the vessel, however, the
wind had fanned the flames until she had become a raging fiery furnace
fore-and-aft. And there was no means of affording succour to the
miserable men on board her, for the sea was running tremendously high
and rising every minute.
She was an awful but gorgeous spectacle, presenting the appearance of a
floating volcano, vomiting flame and smoke as she rushed along before
the wind; but still more awful were the cries and shrieks of agony that
were borne to them across the intervening water.
Cavendish at once gave orders that his ship should be run as close as
possible, compatible with her safety, and this was done; but it was
impossible to save her wretched crew, and the rest of the fleet endured
the misery of beholding their comrades burn, together with the
panic-stricken Spaniards, the authors of the calamity, as many of whom
as possible had been released as soon as the fire was discovered.
A speedy end, however, came to the appalling tragedy which was taking
place before their very eyes; for while they still watched, powerless to
save, a terrific explosion occurred, followed by a rain of blazing
pieces of timber and, gruesome sight! of portions of human bodies which
had been whirled aloft, and now came hurtling down on the decks of the
flag-ship. The fire had reached the _Salvador's_ magazine!
This awful spectacle cast a deep gloom over the entire ship's company.
Shortly afterwards, none of the other vessels being in sight, and the
sea having moderated somewhat, Cavendish ordered the ship's course to be
altered, and they again bore up for the rendezvous.
On the tenth day after the storm they reached, without further
adventure, the agreed latitude and longitude, and hove-to, waiting for
the remainder of the squadron to make its appearance.
Two days later, the first of the other vessels, the _Elizabeth_, made
her appearance, and on the same evening, by the light of the tropic
stars, the other two joined them.
All four remained hove-to until daybreak. Early on the following
morning they all got under weigh again, and headed for the land, which
now could not be many miles distant.
Shortly after noon came the ever-welcome cry from the masthead: "Land
ho!"
"Where away?" demanded the officer of the watch.
"Dead ahead," answered the lookout.
"Keep her as she goes," ordered Cavendish; and with an ever-lessening
wind they glided toward the land that climbed higher and higher above
the horizon by imperceptible degrees.
By the end of the first dog-watch on that same evening they were close
enough to make out the formation of the land; and at length, sighting a
bay that looked promising for their purpose, they bore up for it,
sounding all the way as they went.
As the land opened up, the bay toward which they were heading appeared
to offer increasingly advantageous facilities for careening and
repairing; and they presently passed in between two low headlands
covered with palms, and dropped anchor in the calm inlet in six fathoms
of water, at which depth they could clearly see the bottom of sand
thickly dotted with shells and broken pieces of coral.
At last, after many weary and fateful days, they had reached a haven on
the other side of the Atlantic; a haven in one of the islands of those
fabled Indies where, if legend was to be believed, gold was to be found
more plentifully than iron in England!
All hands gazed longingly at the shore; but leave could not be granted
that night, as the country was unknown, and although it appeared to be
uninhabited, they could not be certain what eventualities might arise.
Cavendish, therefore, deemed it better to wait until morning, and then
send a strong force on shore to reconnoitre and explore.
Meanwhile Roger and Harry went below to their bunks and slumbered,
dreaming of the coming morn. Those of the crew who were off duty slept
on deck or in their hammocks, as the fancy took them; the anchor watch
was set; and thus all hands, waking or sleeping, waited for the morning
which should disclose to them this garden of Paradise.