Saved from the Sea
Not a word was spoken by any of his companions until he had finished
his song, then his wife, looking up at him with streaming eyes, said--
“My dear love, how is it that I never knew of this wonderful gift of
yours? I could sit and hear you sing all day, forgetting everything
else in the world. How could you hide such a talent as that?”
For a little while C. B. hardly knew what to say, for he actually felt
shy as if he had done something wrong. And at last all he could say
was--
“I’m sorry, dear, if you like it so much, that I haven’t sung before.
I’ll make it up to you now. But first of all I’d like to ask our chief
here what he’s proposing to do.”
Haynes immediately suggested that C. B. should take charge as being
the most experienced boatman, but C. B. would not hear of it, saying
that as long as any particle of the late ship’s furniture remained upon
which they had to depend the senior officer of the ship should be in
charge of it, “and I,” concluded C. B. “am only too glad to be at your
orders.”
“Well, then,” said Haynes, “my idea is this. We’re about midway between
Prince Edward Island and the Crozets, that is in about 46 S. We dassent
keep on east for we can’t stand the weather, and anyhow if we did
fetch the Crozets there’s nothing there, we might all starve to death
or remain in misery for many months. I think then we’d best stand on
as we’re doin’, about north-east by east as near as I can figure it,
hoping to be sighted by some of the clippers running east who won’t go
very far south at this time of the year because of the ice. An’ I guess
you’d better keep your pray-machine going, for as I figure it we’ve
only got provisions enough with the utmost economy to keep us going for
fourteen days. Fortunately an old fad of mine comes in handy now. I
always did keep a couple of fishing lines and some hooks in one of the
boats, and it happens to be in this one. It’s the first time I’ve ever
known any good to come of it, but it may now mean the saving of all our
lives.”
“Thank you,” said C. B., “as I know very little of geography and
nothing at all of navigation I have no doubt you are right, and now if
you like I’ll give you another song.” Without waiting he plunged into
another sweet old melody and followed it up by another and another from
the rich stores of his memory until he himself called a halt. Everybody
was gratified, not merely by the sweet sounds but by the words which
now for the first time meant so much to them. As for Mary and her
father, it is impossible to say what their feelings were. It was a new
side of their beloved one that they had not suspected. Oh! I know of
no more poignant pleasure than to find that one you love and honour
and trust goes on to develop new excellencies undreamed of before. Not
merely that they do not fail you in your need, but that they rise to
heights undreamed of by you. It is certainly a foretaste of heaven, as
the failure of those you have lavished stores of love and trust upon to
justify any confidence at all is misery not to be explained.
Now the life of a castaway boat’s crew in the middle of a mighty ocean
is a fascinating subject, but one that requires much room and great
care in handling. Principally, I think if dealt with faithfully from
the inside, it would reveal the true character of each individual,
because every one of the people involved has ever before them the
spectre of an awful struggle to exist, a struggle wherein body and soul
come to death grips, but where, thank God, it has so often been proved
that soul is the stronger, conquering the primal longings of the body
and vindicating its supremacy.
But somehow in this boat’s crew, although privation and suffering from
exposure had full course, no one was really unhappy. When the awful
vision of the end as it might be came before any of their minds, it was
only able to affright them for a moment; then its effect departed, its
place being taken by a sense of trust in God akin to that of a little
child in its parents, which, I think, is the most precious instance
of faith that we have. But the privations endured by them were not so
terrible as some that have been recorded, for the weather having grown
finer remained steadily so, much to the disgust of many of the captains
of the great clippers, who by the failure of the heavy western winds
felt that their chance of making a record passage that trip was being
completely spoilt. They never dreamed of a little company of fellow-men
being in such straits quite near them that they blessed God with their
whole hearts because the usual sturdy winds had moderated their rugged
force, and the great swelling seas of the south were rolling quietly,
almost as the waters of an inland lake, the vast swell affecting them
not at all.
Twelve days since they saw the last of the ship and only two day’s
rations remaining, because in that part of the ocean Mr. Haynes’
fishing line was of practically no use. Only the roughest of dead
reckoning had been kept, for not only was there no sextant or chart
in the boat but there was no compass, and Mr. Haynes’ course of NE.
by E. was merely the expression of habit. So that although they hoped
to be drawing near to St. Paul’s Island they could not know with any
certainty. And cheeks grew thinner, eyes more hollow and sunken, but,
thank God, as yet no word of complaint or anger. Nor had there as yet
been any discussion as to what might happen if they sighted neither
land nor ship, and all their food and water were gone. Not a word,
yet it was in every one’s mind, coupled with the thought that having
endured the pangs of semi-starvation for so long, starvation itself
could not be so bad to bear.
On the morning of the thirteenth day C. B., standing up to stretch
himself as his custom was on waking, took a searching glance all around
the horizon. And his eyes lighted upon a dazzling speck of white upon
the western verge of the horizon. It did not need a second look to tell
him that the blessed vision was the fore royal of a ship lit up by the
first gleam of the rising sun. But he said nothing, just waited till
the morning prayer was made and the tiny meal was served and eaten.
Then he raised himself up again, his heart full of unspoken pleading
for those with him, lest a disappointment should await them, and there
she was evidently steering in a line with them and coming at such a
rate that now her courses or lower square sails were plainly visible.
Then C. B. said quietly--
“Dear friends, there’s a ship steering straight for us, and if they are
keeping anything of a lookout on board of her they should have seen us
by this time. Only we are not so easy to make out as they are, being
on the wrong side of the sun.”
No need to ask where, his outstretched arm told them, and all saw her
like some mighty angel swooping down on them, and from unaccustomed
lips came gently the gracious words, “Thank God.” She fascinated them
as she came nearer, a fine full-rigged ship, her stately beauty growing
upon them with every scend she made. And now they knew she must see
them, for she still steered right for them, and C. B. declared he could
see men on the foreyard. Nearer, nearer still, until suddenly she swung
up into the wind, showing a broad band of white along her side which
had black above and slate colour beneath, stamping her for all the
seafaring world as one of the fine ships of the great firm of Messrs.
T. & J. Brocklebank of Liverpool.
The yards on the main swung round in fine style, and she lay motionless
but for the gentle heave and sway of the sea. “Out oars,” shouted
Haynes, “we mustn’t keep him waiting. Lord, what a lovely ship!” So
the oars were shipped and all hands pulled lustily until they got
alongside, where they found a whip with a basket already rigged for the
hoisting inboard of any too feeble to climb. Mary and her father went
up in this way, but the rest of them, in spite of their feebleness,
climbed on board pilot fashion up the swaying man ropes. And the boat,
like many another good servant that has outlived his usefulness, was
turned adrift, much to C. B.’s sorrow.
The genial captain came to meet them and welcome them on board the
_Majestic_. He had over twenty passengers on board and was, of course,
bound to Calcutta. Whoever heard of a Brocklebank ship going anywhere
else in those days? The lady passengers captured Mary and carried her
off, their gentle hearts full of compassion for her sad plight, for in
spite of her courage and the calm heroism with which she had endured
the misfortune that had befallen them, her sunken cheeks and hollow
eyes and wasted arms told their own tale of privation. Her father
too, who had borne up amazingly with the dogged courage indeed of the
genuine American of the better class, now looked frail and very old,
while C. B. and the members of the crew, though thin and haggard, were
not nearly so bad as might have been expected.
Hospitality of every kind was shown them, but food and drink were given
judiciously, after the well-known rule for fasting persons, and so
rapidly did they recover that the next evening they were all, except of
course the cook and the seaman, able to come to the well spread saloon
dinner table, where they were made very much of. They were indeed
a great acquisition to the ship, for swift as her passage had been
(those vessels usually made the run out from Liverpool to Calcutta in
from eighty to ninety days), the passengers as usual began to feel the
tedium of the voyage, as they termed it, hang very heavily upon them.
Consequently this romantic break in the monotony was welcomed with
great joy by them all, and as they heard more and more of the strange
adventures of one at least of their guests, their interest rose to a
very high pitch indeed.
It was Saturday, and after dinner the patriarchal skipper announced
that he would hold the usual prayer meeting, for he was a Christian
indeed, and endeavoured to provide the means of worship for all, while
obliging none to attend. And he said, “We shall be able to-night to
turn it into a praise meeting for that the Lord has been so good as to
let us rescue the perishing.”
C. B. looked up at him wonderingly. He could hardly believe his ears.
But there was no mistake at all. He presently realized that for the
first time since he had left his beloved home he was going to enjoy
what to him was the most precious privilege of life, that of meeting
with the Lord’s people in prayer and praise. His eyes sparkled and his
face flushed so that his wife, looking up at him, felt the influence
and bowed her head in silent thankfulness.
Partly from curiosity, but in some cases in pure reverence, most of the
passengers attended the meeting in the saloon that night, also a few
of the crew. The grand old skipper presided, and after a hymn had been
sung, in which C. B.’s glorious tenor electrified them all, he read a
chapter, the stirring story of Paul’s shipwreck by Luke. And then he
prayed, being indeed accustomed to take all the parts himself, since
up till now no one of his crew or passengers had ever accepted his
invariable invitation, “Will any brother or sister lead us in prayer?”
There was no change in this evening’s exercises, except that the dear
old man was a little less stereotyped than usual, especially when he
thanked God for permitting the crew of the _Majestic_ to be the means
of rescuing their perishing brothers and sisters.
And then he uttered his invitation, at which C. B. immediately sprang
to his feet and poured out his very soul. What a prayer that was to be
sure! It flooded the hearts of the hearers with a sense of the presence
of the Divine in their midst, it established with a certainty that
nothing could shake the connexion between the man and his heavenly
father. When at last he ceased, and be sure that he did not pray
long, there was a strange sensation among them all as if they expected
something to happen. And then the sweet voice of Mary rose, never
sweeter than now, following her husband. Never before had she raised
her voice in prayer in public, but now the inspiration seized her and
she could not refrain. Sweetly and gladly she praised the Lord, and the
people who had felt strange tremors while C. B. was praying now owned
to a peace that passed all their understanding stealing over them. She
ceased and, wonder of wonders, the hard rugged old citizen, the keen
fighter in the business arena, Old Man Stewart of the San Francisco
Stock Exchange, lifted up his voice. I have not dared to give a sample
of either C. B.’s or Mary’s out-pourings, but Mr. Stewart’s was so new
and vigorous and eminently common-sense that I cannot refrain.
“Almighty God, in the name of Jesus Christ I thank you for all the
mercy you’ve shown me and my daughter and her husband. You’ve saved us
from a horrible death, you’ve brought us among good people, and you’ve
made me see as I never did before the glory and majesty that is yours.
If I knew, how I’d compete with the angels in praising you for what
you’ve been and done to me lately, but I don’t, and I guess ’tain’t
necessary either. So I’ll just say thank you, great God, for my dear
son and his good influence, thank you for savin’ us, thank you for the
lovingkindness of this good ship’s company and all, and all....” Then
the rugged voice faltered, the tall form trembled, subsided into a
seat, and he buried his face in his hands sobbing.
And C. B. sprang to his feet, singing with his soul in his voice, “All
hail the power of Jesu’s Name.” They all sang it through, following him
verse by verse, and then when the voices died away the old skipper
solemnly pronounced the benediction, closing what he afterwards
declared was the most memorable prayer meeting he had ever attended.
And after the folks had dispersed in chastened mood to talk over the
strange happenings of the evening, he called C. B. and his wife to
him to ask of them certain things. He needed, as he explained, to be
strengthened in his soul by the conversation of such natural Christians
as he felt sure they were.
His communion with them was of mutual benefit and much pleasure, and
C. B. felt happier than he had done for a long time, not that he was
ever unhappy, but that being a man he had sadly missed the pleasure
he had renewed this night. Then when the old skipper had bidden them
good night C. B. and his wife and Mr. Stewart sat and talked over the
amazing happenings of the past month, the strange ways in which it was
pleasing the Lord to lead them. And gradually the talk came round, as
it must do, to ways and means. They were now bound to Calcutta, and as
Mr. Stewart had remitted the balance of his money to Sydney except for
the trifle they had brought on board with them, all of which had been
lost, they were practically beggared; still they could not talk with C.
B. and feel that, for his cheery optimism was entirely proof against
any such depressing thoughts. He would only quote the simile of the
sparrows and smile contentedly.
Next day they swung round the island of St. Paul’s, had set the course
northward for Calcutta. And as soon as the yards had been trimmed the
captain called C. B. to him and said that there was just a chance of
them meeting a ship bound South to Sydney or Melbourne which had been
to Calcutta with horses, then a very lucrative trade and one that gave
employment to a good many vessels. Then he said--
“If we do, I will signal to her and try to get them to take you on
board, for much as I should like to take you on to Calcutta with me I
know how hard it would be for you in your present penniless condition
to land in a port so very far away from where you are bound to. And
none of our passengers here are wealthy, they are all people who have
their living to earn, or I know they would help. So we will pray that
a vessel may be sighted into which you can be transhipped and thus the
way made clear for you.”
C. B. thanked him and withdrew to the society of the dear ones, whom
he found seated among a delighted group of the passengers who were
listening spell-bound to some story Mr. Stewart was telling them. And
as C. B. approached they hailed him gladly and made room for him in
their midst, while Mr. Stewart said laconically--
“Now I guess I’ll turn the story over to him, for not only was he there
and knows the whole thing, but he’s the boss story-teller there is,
lays clean over any spinner of yarns I ever heard of, and what is best
of all, you can bank your entire substance that he’ll never tell you
anything that isn’t exactly so to an actual dot.”
C. B. laughingly inquired what this was they were getting up for him
now, and learned that it was the story of poor Captain Taber’s breaking
up, which, although Mr. Stewart and Mary had heard several times, they
could not possibly tell as he could. And yet, having heard Captain
Taber’s side of the yarn, Mary was able to put her oar in occasionally
in order to prevent her husband’s modesty from entirely covering up his
good part in the great business. For like a thoroughly good wife she
loved to have her husband praised. His glory was hers, everything that
was spoken of him truly and gratefully warmed her very heart, for he
was part of herself and her typical hero.
So C. B. told the story and more also, and in such pleasant ways the
time sped on until they had been a week on board and felt as if it had
been but one day. There was no more respite for C. B.’s voice now,
especially as the _Majestic_ had a piano in her saloon, and C. B.
now discovered to his boundless delight what he had never dreamed of
before, that Mary could play beautifully: a born musician, she could
accompany anybody with or without the music as soon as she got the air.
And how they did sing! It seemed as if they could have thus poured out
their very souls. Mr. Stewart made a mental note that whatever they
decided to do without in their new simplicity at Norfolk Island when
they got there, a piano or an American organ certainly would not be one
of the things, since it was a source of such great delight and innocent
pleasure.
This pleasant time came to an end with great suddenness. A sail was
sighted coming towards them and the captain shaped his course to
meet her closely. As she drew nearer it was seen that she was a fine
full-rigged ship, and the flags soon revealed that she was the _Ben
Ledi_ from Calcutta to Sydney, thirty-one days out. To the signal “I
wish to communicate by boat” the stranger backed her maintopsail and
lay to expectantly, while the captain of the _Majestic_ invited the
three to accompany his chief officer to the boat to the other ship,
wisely remarking that if she would take them so much time would be
saved, if not there was no harm done. Of course the three hands of the
late _Julia D. South’s_ crew would go on to Calcutta; being sailors,
one port was as good to them as another.
Hurried and fervent farewells were made and many tears were shed, for
the trio had made themselves much beloved during the short time of
their stay; then laden with good wishes and a substantial outfit of
clothing generously contributed by all the passengers they dropped into
the boat and departed. As only a mile separated the two ships but a
very short time elapsed before they were alongside the _Ben Ledi_, and
the mate of the _Majestic_ who had accompanied them climbed nimbly on
board and briefly stated their case to the captain, offering in their
name to pay whatever should be considered fair for a passage to Sydney.
No difficulty whatever was made, for the _Ben Ledi_ was also a big
ship with good accommodation, and the captain, though a cautious
business-like Scotchman, said that he was happy to be of service,
and as for the passage money, that could be settled by the agents in
Sydney. So a whip was rigged for Mrs. Adams and her father, they were
lightly lifted on board, C. B. sprang up the side ladder, the mate
after a hearty handshake all round leaped into his boat, shoved off,
and away they went.
As soon as ever the boat was clear the captain shouted--
“Fill away ye’ere main yard. Come up on the poop, friends, and wave
good-bye to your ship.” And with swelling hearts they watched the
hospitable _Majestic_ dipping her flag in farewell as the _Ben Ledi_
gathered way and began to slip through the water southward bound. The
captain, introducing himself as “James McIntyre, at your service,” made
no attempt to persuade them to come below until the _Majestic_ was
hull down, and then gently suggested that they might be glad to see
their cabins, like a courteous host doing the honours of his house to
distinguished visitors. And so they became passengers in yet another
ship on this curious tortuous journey of theirs to the lonely lovely
isle of their hopes.
They found to their astonishment that this ship was scarcely less
sumptuously fitted than the last, that the cabins were roomy if less
comfortable, and that an air of quiet ordered peace reigned on board.
And Mr. Stewart said emphatically--
“How is it, I wonder, that people will tell such needless lies about
this thing? Now I’d always believed the Britishers were hoggish,
unsociable, et up with pride. That British ships were dirty, no account
tubs, where life was hardly worth living and comfort was unknown. I’ve
heard the term lime-juicer applied to them all and felt that it meant
all that was contemptible and worthless. And now I find everything the
exact opposite, and I’m filled with shame that I ever believed such
lying slanders. Ah well, there must be some evil spirit at work tryin’
to keep the two countries enemies. As for me, I’ll bless a Britisher
as long as I live if it’s only for the way I’ve been treated and seen
folks behave under that flag lately.”
You can hardly imagine how C. B.’s heart thrilled with joy at hearing
his father-in-law say this. For he, like all the rest of his island
brethren, was passionately patriotic, and praise of the dear land they
had never seen was only second to praise of the Lord and His glorious
kingdom in their innocent ignorant minds. Perhaps it was as well that
they had no opportunities to become disillusioned, for Heaven knows the
latter process is easy enough to even our most fervent admirers who
visit us and take the trouble to inquire into things.
Truly the old gentleman’s encomia were well deserved in this case,
for while the _Julia D. South_ was certainly far from being a fair
representative of American packets generally of that day, both the
_Majestic_ and the _Ben Ledi_ were among the very best of their
class, magnificently built and equipped, and in the hands of men who
were a credit to their profession. Of course the _Ben Ledi_ was not
so comfortable in some respects as the _Majestic_, for she was not
carrying passengers, but that did not trouble our friends, who were
grateful and delighted at the thought that they were once more on the
direct track for their last but one port.
The passage was entirely uneventful, for no extraordinary weather was
experienced, and while every man in the ship knew his duty and did it
well, they were an exceedingly taciturn lot, being nearly all pawky
Scotchmen. Having given their guests the best reception in their power
and treated them in every way as first-class passengers, they left it
at that, as if they felt that it was no part of their duty to amuse
and entertain their guests as well. And doubtless they were perfectly
justified in their own eyes, but for my part, having been in a few of
them, I detest a _silent_ ship. It always seems as if everybody was
sullen or as if some trouble was brewing.
Certainly it did so here to our friends, for Mary said to her husband
on the third day--
“Whatever can be the matter with these folks, they go about like
automata, and whenever I have spoken to one of the officers or the
captain they have seemed so embarrassed and troubled that I have felt
quite guilty, though for the life of me I can’t think of what. Their
whole stock of conversation seems to consist of ‘ay,’ long drawn out,
or a funny noise that they make with their mouths shut, all m’s. The
chief officer did say the other day when I remarked how beautiful the
weather was, ‘that’s a faact, mem,’ but he got quite red in the face
over it.”
C. B. laughingly reproved her for her criticism, and reminded her how
the silent folks were almost always those who did most. And in any case
if their hosts were silent the ship was as near perfection in every
respect as a ship could be.
And so she remained. Through the dreaded waters of the Great Australian
Bight, where she fought out a tremendous easterly gale in splendid
fashion, through the intricate navigation of Bass’s Straits, where she
behaved like a yacht against light, baffling winds and unfavourable
currents, and then as with a howling “Southerly buster” behind her
she flew north at the rate of fourteen knots an hour, she won the
most whole-hearted and lavish admiration from her guests. Mr. Stewart
waxed enthusiastic, a rare thing for him, and going up to the captain,
who was standing with impassive face near the binnacle, he burst
into praise of the ship and her many superb qualities as far as he
could tell, having travelled a good deal at sea. To which the captain
rejoined drily, “Aye, she’s no’ a bad ship.”
Presently they opened up the wonderful harbour of Port Jackson, so
cunningly concealed as to its entrance that our greatest navigator
sailed right past it unsuspectingly, and after picking up a pilot
filled away again and sailed up to the crowded anchorage like some
mighty bird settling down to its nest and gradually folding its wings.
There was a crash and a tremor all through the ship as the anchor
fell, and there she lay, another passage safely accomplished, and her
passengers’ hearts full of joy.