“I should like to see some signs of life there, I must say.”
“Well, we’ll know all about her by the time you’re through your next
pull.”
Bruce now rowed, and Bart sat with his eyes fixed on the ship. She
still lay as low in the water as ever, but they could see her bulwarks
plainly, and her cabins. Her rigging seemed as disordered as ever, and
it was a puzzle to Bart, why, in this calm weather, she should be
so neglected. Various unpleasant thoughts arose in his mind, but he
kept-them to himself. Thus the time passed, and Bruce rowed, and the
boat drew steadily nearer. At length he gave the oars over to Bart, and
took his seat in the stern.
By this time they were not more than a mile from the ship. She was
certainly very low in the water. At a distance they had supposed that
her sails were furled. They could now see that she had no sails at all.
There was her jib, and that was all. There was no sign of life aboard,
and the disorder in her rigging was more perceptible than ever.
“Bart,” said Bruce in a solemn tone, after he had gazed silently at the
ship for full ten minutes.
“Well?”
“Do you know what I think about her?”
“What?”
“It’s my opinion that there’s not a soul on board of her.”
Bart was silent.
“She’s evidently been in a storm; her sails are gone; her rigging
is every way. The crew have probably deserted her; and, yes, she
is--there’s no doubt about it. I suspected it--I knew it.”
“She’s what?” asked Bart.
“Waterlogged!” said Bruce.
Bart turned his head and looked at her for a long time. He said not a
word. At last he turned to Bruce.
“Well,” said he, “at any rate, we must board her. After coming so far,
we can’t go back. Besides, we may find something.”
“Find something? Of course we shall,” said Bruce, confidently. “We’ll
find lots of things. We’ll find barrels of pork, and beef, and bread,
and other things besides, no doubt. When they left her, they would only
take enough to last them till they got ashore. They must have left the
greater part of their supplies and sea stores behind.”
“Of course,” said Bart; “so here goes.”
And with these words he pulled as vigorously as though he had not yet
rowed a stroke.
And now every minute they drew nearer and nearer. Bart rowed without
turning his head, but Bruce sat with his eyes fixed upon her,
occasionally telling Bart when he got out of his course.
As they drew nearer in this way, every doubt was removed, if there had
been any doubts in the mind of either. The ship was evidently deserted.
She was also as evidently waterlogged. Now they were able to account for
what had puzzled them before; her lying so low in the water, and yet at
the same time seeming so near. Her nearness was not apparent, but real;
her lowness in the water actual, and not seeming. That she had been
deserted by her crew was more and more evident every moment, for as they
drew nearer, they could see not a sign of life. Had there been any one
on board, he would certainly have made himself visible.
At length Bruce bawled out, “Ship, ahoy!”
Bart stopped rowing and looked around. Both boys listened. They did
not expect any answer, nor did any answer come. They waited for about
a minute, and then Bart rowed on. In about two minutes they were
alongside. The oars were thrown in, the boat secured, and the two boys
stepped aboard.
[Illustration: 0083]
There was a mixture of attraction and repulsion in the first sight of
the ship, which affected the boys very peculiarly. She lay waterlogged.
Her decks were on a level with the sea. But her bulwarks rose six feet
high above the water, and the deck itself afforded a spacious area on
which to walk. The deck was white with the washing of many waters, and
dry in the warm sun, which had shone upon it for some days past. All
the boats were gone except one, which hung at the starboard davits, and
looked like the captain’s gig. The cook’s galley stood amidships, and
astern there was a quarter-deck. The cabin doors were open wide. The
forecastle was also open. The main hatchway was open, and the boys,
looking in, could see the cargo. It consisted of enormous pine logs.
The sight of this cargo explained all. This was a timber ship, no doubt,
from Quebec, which had encountered a storm in the gulf, and sprung
aleak. On becoming waterlogged, she had been deserted and left to her
fate; yet her cargo, which was of wood, prevented her from sinking,
and the huge sticks of timber served to give her stiffness as well as
buoyancy, and preserve her from breaking up. To Bart a timber ship was
the most familiar thing in the world, for he had been brought up in a
timber port; his father sailed timber ships, and the whole situation was
one which he perfectly understood at the very first glance.
The boys walked about the decks. To their delight, they saw several
water casks lashed behind the mainmast, and a row of barrels that
looked as if they contained provisions, for they all bore the eloquent
inscription:--