"And so, Jack, you like a sea-life, do you?" said Peter Poplar to me one
day after we had been about two weeks from port. We had had very fine
weather all the time, with a north or easterly wind, and I expected to
find the ocean always as smooth and pleasant as it then was. One good
result was, that I had been able to pick up a good many of the details
of my duty, which I should not have done had I been sea-sick, and
knocked about in a gale.
"Yes, thanks to you, Peter, I like it much better than running errands
on shore," I answered. "I don't wish for a pleasanter life."
Peter laughed. "You've had only the sweets as yet, boy; the bitters are
to come," he observed. "Still, if you get a fair share of the first,
you'll have no reason to complain."
I did not quite understand him. I then only thought of the sweets, as
he called them. The truth was, I had generally been very kindly treated
on board. To be sure, I got a kick, or the taste of a rope's end, now
and then, from some of the men if they happened to be out of humour; but
those were trifles, as I never was much hurt, and Peter told me I was
fortunate to get nothing worse. There was one ill-conditioned fellow,
Barney Bogle by name, who lost no opportunity of giving me a cuff for
the merest trifle, if he could do so without being seen by Peter, of
whom he was mortally afraid. In his presence, the bully always kept his
hands off me. Of course it would not have been wise in me to complain
of Barney to Peter, as it might have caused a quarrel; so I contented
myself with doing my best to keep out of my enemy's way, just as a cat
does out of the way of a dog which has taken a fancy to worry her.
Captain Helfrich had hitherto taken no notice whatever of me, and he
seemed to me so awful a person, that I never expected to be spoken to by
him. Now and then the mates ordered me to do some little job or other,
to fetch a swab or a marlinespike, or to hold a paint-pot, but they in
no other way noticed me.
I remember how blue the sky was, and how sparkling the sea, and how hot
the sun at noon shone down on our heads, and how brightly the moon
floated above us at night, and formed a long, long stream of silvery
light across the waters; and I used to fancy, as I stood looking at it,
that I could hear voices calling to me from far, far-off, and telling me
of my sweet, calm-eyed mother, still remembered fondly, and of my poor
father, snatched from me so suddenly. I won't talk much about that sort
of thing. It seems now like a long-forgotten dream--I believe that,
even then, I was dreaming.
Well, as I said, the fine weather continued for a long time, till I was
awoken one morning by a loud, roaring, dashing, creaking sound, or
rather, I might say, of a mixture of such sounds; and as I began to rub
my eyes, I thought that I should have been hove out of the narrow crib
in which I was stowed away in the very bows of the vessel. Sometimes I
felt the head of the brig lifted up, and then down it came like a
sledge-hammer into the water; now I felt myself rolled on one side, now
on the other. I fully thought that the vessel must be on the rocks.
Not a gleam of light reached me, nor could I hear the sound of a human
voice. I wanted to be out of the place; but when I tried to get up, I
felt so sick and wretched, that I lay down again with an idea that it
would be more comfortable to die where I was. At last, however, Barney
Bogle came below and discovered me.
"Turn out, you young skulker; turn out!" he exclaimed, belabouring me
with a rope's end. "Didn't you hear all hands called to shorten sail an
hour ago?"
I had no help for it, so on deck I crawled, where the grey light of
morning was streaming from beneath a dark mass of clouds which hung
overhead, and a gale was blowing which sent the foam flying from the
tops of the seas, deluging us fore and aft. Now the brig was lifted up
to the summit of a wave, and now down she sank into the trough of the
sea, with a liquid wall on one side which, as it came curling on, looked
as if it must inevitably overwhelm her. She was under close-reefed
topsails and storm-jib, and two of the best hands were at the helm.
Peter was one of them. I managed to climb up to windward, and to hold
on by the weather-fore-rigging, where the rest of the crew were
collected.
I shall never forget the dark, dreary, and terrific scene which the
ocean presented to my unaccustomed sight. At first, too, I felt very
sick and miserable, and I thought that I would far rather have been
starving on shore than going to be drowned, as I fancied, and being
tossed about by the rough ocean. Barney, who was on deck before me,
abused me as I crawled up near him, and contrived to give me a kick,
which, had I let go my hold, as it was calculated to make me do, would
probably have been the cause of my immediate destruction. At that
moment a huge sea came rolling up towards the brig, topping high above
our deck. I saw Peter Poplar and the other man at the helm looking out
anxiously at it. They grasped tighter hold of the spokes of the wheel,
and planted their feet firmer on the deck. Captain Helfrich and his
mates were standing by the main-rigging.
"Hold on, hold on for your lives, my men!" he sung out. The crew did
not neglect to obey him, and I clung to a rope like a monkey. Most of
the passengers were below, sick in their berths. Down came the huge sea
upon us like the wall of a city overwhelming its inhabitants. Over our
deck it rushed with terrific force. I thought to a certainty that we
were sinking. What a horrible noise there was!--wrenching and tearing,
and the roar and dashing sound of the waves, and the howling of the
wind! All contributed to confuse my senses, so that I forgot altogether
where I was. I had an idea, I believe, that the end of the world was
come. Still my shipmates did not shriek out, and I was very much
surprised to find the brig rise again out of the water, and to see them
standing where they were before, employed in shaking the wet off their
jackets. The deck of the brig, however, presented a scene of no little
confusion and havoc. Part of her weather-bulwarks forward had been
stove in, the long-boat on the booms had been almost knocked to pieces,
and a considerable portion of the after-part of the lee-bulwarks had
been washed away, showing the course the sea had taken over us.
"We must not allow that trick to be played us again," said the captain
to the mates. I had crept as far aft as I dared go, for I did not like
the look of the sea through the broken bulwark, so I could hear him.
"Stand by to heave the ship to!" he shouted, and his voice was easily
heard above the sounds of the tempest. "Down with the helm!--In with
the jib!--Hand the maintopsail!" The officers and men, who were at
their stations, flew to obey their orders. I trembled as I saw the
third mate, with several other men, taking in the jib. Having let go
the halliards, and eased off the sheets, hauling away on the
down-hauler; and having got it down on the bowsprit-cap, though nearly
blown out of the bolt-ropes, stowing it away in the foretopmast
staysail-netting. As the bows of the brig now rose and now plunged into
the trough of the sea, I thought they must have been, to a certainty,
washed away. The maintopsail was, in the meantime, taken in, and I felt
that I was very glad I was not obliged to lay-out on the yard with the
other men. It seemed a wonder how they were not shaken off into the
sea, or carried away by the bulging sail. The great thing in taking in
a sail in a gale, as I now learned from Peter, is not to allow the sail
to shake, or it is very likely to split to pieces. Keep it steadily
full, and it will bear a great strain. Accordingly, the clew-lines,
down-haul-tackle, and weather-brace being manned, the halliards were let
go, the weather-brace hauled in, the weather-sheet started and clewed
up; then the bowline and lee-sheets being let go, the sail caught aback,
and the men springing on the yard, grasped it in their arms as they hung
over it. Folding it in inch by inch, they at length mastered the
seeming resistless monster, and passing the gaskets round it, secured it
to the yard. Those who for the first time see a topsail furled in a
heavy gale may well deem it a terrific operation, and perilous in the
extreme to those employed in it. I know that I breathed more freely
when all the men came down safely from the yard, Barney Bogle among the
number; and the helm being lashed a-lee, the brig rode like a duck over
the seas.
There was no time, however, to be idle, and all hands set to work to
repair damages. I now saw that the captain, who appeared so fine a
gentleman in harbour, or when there was nothing to do, could work as
well, if not rather better, than any one. With his coat off, and saw,
axe, or hammer in hand, he worked away with the carpenter in fitting a
new rail, and planking up the bulwarks; and the steward had twice to
call him to breakfast before he obeyed the summons. His example
inspired the rest; and in a very short time the bulwarks were made
sufficiently secure to serve till the return of fine weather.
"I told you, Jack, that you would have a taste of the bitters of a
sea-life before long," said Peter, as soon as he had time to have a word
with me. "Let me tell you, however, that this is just nothing, and that
we shall be very fortunate if we do not fall in with something much
worse before long."
I knew that Peter would not unnecessarily alarm me, and so I looked up
at the dark clouds driving across the sky, and saw the hissing, foaming
waves dancing up wildly around us, looking as if every moment they were
ready to swallow up the brig, I asked myself what worse could occur,
without our going to the bottom. I had never then been in a regular
hurricane or a typhoon, or on a lee-shore on a dark night, surrounded by
rocks, or among rapid currents, hurrying the ship within their power to
destruction; nor had I been on board a craft when all hands at the pumps
could scarcely keep her afloat; nor had I seen a fire raging. Indeed, I
happily knew nothing of the numberless dangers and hardships to which a
seaman in his career is exposed. I must not say that I was in any way
frightened. I resolved to keep a bold heart in my body. "Never mind,"
I answered to Peter's remark; "while I've got you and the captain on
board, I don't fear anything."
Peter laughed. "We may be very well in our way," said he; "but, Jack,
my advice is: Trust in God, and hold on by the weather-rigging. Should
the ship go down, look out for spar or a plank if there's no boat
afloat; and if you can find nothing, swim as long as you can; but
whatever you do, trust in God."
I have never forgotten Peter's advice. Never have I found that trust
deceive me; and often and often have I been mercifully preserved when I
had every reason to believe that my last hour had come. I should remark
also that, badly off as I have often fancied myself, I have soon had
reason to be thankful that I was not in the condition of others around
me.
While Peter was speaking, one of the crew sung out, "a sail on the
weather-bow!" Sure enough, as we rose on the summit of a sea, a ship
could be seen with all her topsails set running before the wind. Peter
remarked that she was standing directly for us. "She is a large ship,
by the squareness of her yards; probably either from the West Indies or
South America, or maybe China, or from some port in the Pacific, and she
has come round the Horn."
We watched her for some time. "She has a signal of distress flying,
sir," said the first mate, who had been looking at her through a glass.
"She is in a bad way, then," remarked the captain. "I fear that unless
the sea goes down, and she in the meantime can heave-to near us, we can
render her no assistance."
On came the ship right for us. I thought that she would run us down;
so, indeed, I found did others on board. The mates, indeed, went to the
wheel to put the helm up to let the brig fall off, that we might get out
of her way; but as she approached, she altered her course a little, so
that she might pass clear under our stem. Never shall I forget the look
of that strange ship; for, as she came near us, rolling in the trough of
the sea, we could see clearly everything going forward on her decks.
She was a Spaniard, so Peter told me, as he knew from the ensign which
flew out, hoisted half-way to her peak. She was a high-pooped ship,
with a deep waist and a lofty forecastle, her upper works narrowing as
they rose, with large lanterns, and much rich carved work all gilt and
painted. Such a craft is never seen now-a-days.
She was crowded with people. Some were soldiers, worn-out men, with
their wives and families returning home from the colonies; others were
cabin passengers. There were rich Hidalgos, attended on by their
slaves--old men, who had spent their lives abroad in the pursuit of
wealth; and there were fair girls, too, probably their daughters, some
young and lovely; and there were young men, with life before them, and
thinking that life was to be very sweet; and there were children, and
infants in arms, and their fond mothers or nurses anxious to shelter
them from harm. Then there were the officers of the ship and the crew;
fierce, dark-bearded men--a mongrel set of various ranks and many
nations. She was evidently a rich galleon, returning to old Spain from
one of her ill-governed dependencies in South America. But it was the
way in which all these people were employed that made so deep an
impression on me. Then the scene looked only like a strange picture.
It was not till long afterwards, when I reasoned on what I had observed,
that I understood what I now describe.
The greater number of the men were at the pumps, labouring in a way
which showed that they fancied their lives depended on their exertions;
but the clear streams of water which came out of the scuppers, and the
heavy way in which the ship plunged into the trough of the sea, showed
that their labour would too probably be in vain. Others seemed
paralysed or pitied, and sat down with their heads on their breasts
waiting their fate. Many, as they passed us, came to the side of their
ship, and held out their hands imploringly towards us, as if we could
help them. But what seemed most dreadful--some of the sailors and
soldiers had got hold of a quantity of wine and spirits, and were
reeling about the decks, offering liquor to every one they encountered,
and holding out bottles and cans of wine mockingly at us, or as if
inviting us to join them. Several, although they must have given up all
hope of assistance from man, might have looked for it from Heaven, for
they were on their knees imploring help--was it from Him who alone can
give it, or was it from their various saints? I don't know.
Two groups of figures on the poop especially struck me. In the centre
of one stood a tall man in rich vestments of gold, and white, and
purple. He had a shorn crown. He was a priest. He was holding aloft a
golden crucifix, which I thought the wind would have blown out of his
hand, but he must have been a powerful man, and he grasped it fast.
Assisting to support him and it were two monks in dark dresses, kneeling
on the deck on either side of him. Around them knelt and clung, holding
on to each other, a number of men and women, and among them were some
little children, holding up their tiny hands in supplication towards the
crucifix. Of course, no sound could reach us, but there seemed to be
much wailing, and crying, and groaning. Some were stretching out their
arms, others were beating their breasts and tearing their hair. The
priest stood unmoved, with head erect, uttering prayers, or pronouncing
absolution. At some distance from them were a couple, not to be
overlooked either. One was a fine handsome young man, in the uniform of
a military officer; the other a young and beautiful girl, who lay nearly
fainting in his arms. He looked towards us eagerly, hopefully, as if he
fancied that he would plunge with his precious charge into the water. I
thought that at that moment he was going to make the daring leap. Some
of the officers of the ship were gathered round the wheel. Just then
the helm was put down, and we saw some of them with blows and threats
urging the drunken crew to take in the headsails, leaving the
maintopsail only to steady the ship. In the operation, however,
carelessly performed, the sails were blown to ribbons, and the ship
drifted away to leeward of us. She had before this evidently suffered
severely. Her boats were gone; her bulwarks in many places stove in;
and her bowsprit and foretopmast had been carried away, while, of
course, still more serious damage had been sustained in her hull.
"Shall we be able to do anything for all those poor people?" I asked of
Peter, who stood near me.
"No, Jack, we shall not," he answered; "man can't help them. This ship,
by the look of her, will not keep above water another half-hour; and
then Heaven have mercy on their souls! I doubt if the captain will
venture to lower a boat in this sea to attempt to save them, or if a
boat could lift if he did."
"It's very dreadful," said I.
"Yes, Jack; but it's the lot all sailors must be prepared for," answered
Peter. "Remember, it may be my fate or yours one of these days. We
should not be afraid; but I repeat it, Jack, we should be prepared." I
did not quite understand Peter then.
"Then, Peter, you would not go in the boat if one was lowered?" I
observed.
"Wait till the captain says what he wants done," he answered calmly.
"If he thinks a boat can live, and wants volunteers, it's my duty to go,
you know. Remember, Jack, obey first, and calculate risk afterwards."
Peter's predictions as to the fate of the Spanish ship were fulfilled
sooner even than he had expected. That moment, while we were looking at
her, she settled lower and lower in the water; she rolled still more
heavily; her bow looked as if about to rise, but instead her stem lifted
high--up it went. There seemed a chasm yawning for her. Into it she
plunged, and down, down she went--the waves wildly rushing over her
decks, and scattering the shrieking multitude assembled on them far and
wide over the foaming ocean; mothers, children, husbands, wives, lovers,
and friends, the priests and their disciples, were rudely torn asunder,
and sent hither and thither. Numbers went down in the vortex of the
huge ship--the men at the pumps, the drunken seamen, some who had clung
madly to the rigging. Others supported themselves on anything which
could float; and brave swimmers struck out for dear life.
"I can't stand this," cried our captain, unconscious that he was
speaking aloud; "we must try at all risks to save the poor wretches."
"I'll go," cried the second mate, Harry Gale, a fine, quiet,
gentleman-reared young man as ever I met.
"I'm one with you, Mr Gale," cried Peter Poplar, springing aft to the
falls of the lee-quarter-boat, the only one which could be lowered.
"Bear a hand here, mates; there'll no time to be lost!"
"Hold fast!" shouted the captain. "No hurry, my men; those who go clear
the boat. The mates will stand by the falls with Jackson and Farr. All
ready now!--Lower away!"
The captain gave the word, so that the boat touched the water just at
the best time. Peter Poplar stood in the bows, boat-hook in hand, and
moved off; Mr Gale steered; the three other men were the strongest of
the ship's company; and truly it required all the care and seamanship
mortal man could possess to keep a boat alive in such a boiling caldron
as the wide Atlantic then was. I was very anxious for Peter's safety,
for he was indeed my friend. I feared also for the rest. I was fully
alive to the danger of the expedition they were on.
The boat, keeping under the lee of the brig, dropped down towards the
scene of the catastrophe. So fiercely boiling, however, were the waves,
that with awful rapidity the greater number of those who had lately
peopled the deck of that big ship were now engulfed beneath them. Some,
however, still struggled for existence.
Had the sea been less violent many might have been saved; for as we
stood on the deck we could see the poor wretches struggling among the
foam, but by the time the boat reached the spot they had sunk for ever.
The captain had gone into the main-rigging, and with his outstretched
arm was indicating to the second mate the direction in which to steer;
but of course she could venture to go very little out of one particular
direction without a certainty of being swamped. It was very dreadful to
watch one human being after another engulfed in the hungry ocean. We
have just to picture to ourselves how we should be feeling if we were in
their places, to make us eager to save those under like circumstances.
The most conspicuous object was the tall priest, and towards him the
boat was accordingly making her way. Two other figures were at the same
time seen. One floated only a short distance to leeward of the brig; it
was that, I felt certain, of the beautiful girl I had seen supported by
the young officer. She was unconscious of all around, and I believe
that even then life had left her frame. She was supported by a piece of
plank, to which probably she had been secured with the last fond effort
of affection by him who had thus been unable to provide any means of
escape for himself. He, however, must have struggled bravely for
existence, for I made him out at a short distance beyond, now rising on
the crest of a wave, now sinking into the trough of the sea, but still
swimming on with his eye gazing steadily in the direction of that
floating form.
Meantime the boat was making towards the priest. "Give way, lads!"
shouted several of our people in their eagerness, forgetting that they
could not possibly be heard. No time was to be lost, for already the
priest's rich dress was saturated with water, and he was sinking lower
and lower, and what at first had supported him was now dragging him
down. Still he did not give in, but, cross in hand, waved the boat on.
The distance he was from the boat must have been greater than we
supposed. Suddenly he threw up his arms, and a white-crested top of a
sea breaking over him, he disappeared for ever amidst a mass of foam.
Mr Gale saw what had occurred, and instantly turned the boat's head
towards the young officer, who was still swimming on with wonderful
strength. In this instance the men were more successful; the boat's
head dropped down close to him, and Peter, stretching out his arm,
grasped the young man by the shoulder, and hauled him in over the bows,
and passed him on into the stern-sheets. Though faint at first, the
Spaniard instantly recovered himself, and stood upright in the boat,
gazing eagerly around. As the boat rose on a sea, he caught sight of
the object of his search. He pointed towards the floating form of the
young lady. Even when first seen, the line by which she had been
hurriedly and imperfectly secured to the plank I observed was loosened.
The wash of the sea now parted her from it entirely. The young man saw
what had occurred. With a cry of anguish, before our people could seize
him, he sprang from the gunwale towards the object of his love, as her
dress carried her down beneath the foaming waters. I think he reached
her. They disappeared at the same moment, and never rose again!
Still a few people kept above water, holding on to planks, or swimming,
chiefly seamen or soldiers; but most of them had been carried to too
great a distance from the brig for a boat to save them. It was only by
keeping under our lee, our hull preventing the sea from breaking so
much, that the boat avoided being swamped. Thus we could expect that
only a very few of those who floated to the last could be saved. No one
could have ventured further than did our brave mate and his crew;--they
would in all probability have thrown away their own lives had not
Captain Helfrich recalled them. He signalled with his hand, but Mr
Gale did not observe him. "Fire a gun there," he shouted; "quick, for
your lives!" A gun had been ready loaded for the purpose. Its report
served as the funeral knell of many a despairing wretch.
The boat put about. The returning alongside was as perilous an
operation almost as the lowering the boat had been. All hands not
required at the falls stood ready with ropes to heave to our shipmates
should she be swamped alongside; but the oars being thrown in, Mr Gale
and Peter seizing the fall-tackles at the right moment, hooked on, and
the rest of the people handing themselves up by the ropes hanging ready
for them, the boat was hoisted up before the sea again rose under her
bottom. It was sad to think: that all their gallant efforts had been
unavailing. In two or three minutes more not a human being of all the
Spaniard's crew was to be seen alive; and except a few planks and spars,
and here and there a bale or a chest, mere dots in the ocean, we might
have fancied, as we looked out on those foaming waters, that all that
had passed was some hideous dream. Often, indeed, have I since had the
same dreadful drama acted over before my eyes while I slept; so deep was
the impression made on me by the reality. Very many things which long
after that time occurred have entirely faded from my memory.
Had it been possible, (as Peter told me he thought it would have been,
had all the crew done their duty), to keep the galleon afloat a few
hours longer, in all probability we should have been the means of saving
the people. In the course of the day the wind fell, and the sea went
down sufficiently to have allowed our boats to have passed between the
two vessels without any great risk. Captain Helfrich was certainly not
a man to have deserted her while a chance remained of saving a human
being. While she floated he would have stuck to her. "Remember, Jack,"
said Peter, "the first duty of a ship's company is to stick by each
other--to keep sober, and to obey their officers. Without a head, men
can do nothing. They are like a flock of sheep running here and there,
and never getting on. What is a man's duty is best; and you see here,
for instance, that the lives of all depend on their doing their duty."
Sail was again made on the brig, and she was able to lay her course. At
night, however, it came on to blow again, and by next morning we were
once more hove-to with more sea, and the wind chopping about and making
it break in a far more dangerous way than it had done on the previous
day. I found, when I came on deck after my watch below, all hands
looking out at an object which had just been discovered a little abaft
the lee-bow. Some said it was a dead whale; one or two declared that it
was a rock; but the officers, after examining it with their glasses,
pronounced it to be a vessel bottom uppermost! The question was,
whether the wreck was deserted, or whether any people still clung to it.
Hove-to as we were, we made of course considerable lee-way; and keeping
in the direction we were then driving, we should before long get near
enough to examine her condition. Had not the brig already received some
damage, Captain Helfrich would, I believe, have run down at once to the
wreck; but this, a right care for the safety of his own vessel would not
allow him to do. Every instant, too, the gale was increasing, till it
blew a perfect hurricane; and not for a moment could a boat have lived
had one been lowered. The wreck drove before the wind, but of course we
moved much faster; it was some hours, however, before we got near enough
to the wreck to discover if anyone was upon it.
"There are three or four people at least upon it," exclaimed Mr Gale.
"Poor fellows! can we do nothing for them, sir?"
"I cannot allow you to throw away your life, as you would if you had
your own way," answered the captain, to whom he spoke. "All we can do
is to hope that the wind will go down before we drift out of sight of
each other."
Unhappily our course took us some way from the wreck, though near enough
to see clearly the poor fellows on it. How intense must have been their
feelings of anxiety as they saw us approaching them! and how bitter
their disappointment when they discovered how impossible it was for us
to render them any assistance till the weather moderated!
The wreck appeared to be that of a schooner, or brig of a hundred and
fifty tons or so. The people were holding on to her keel. There were
three white men and two blacks. They waved their handkerchiefs and
caps, and held out their hands imploringly towards us. Some were
sitting astride on the keel; one was lying down, held on by his
shipmates; and another lay right over it looking almost dead. We made
out this through the glasses. Peter got me a look through a telescope
which one of the men had. It brought the countenances of the poor
fellows fearfully near--their expressions of horror and despair could be
seen. We longed more than ever for the gale to abate that we might help
them. Still it blew on as fiercely as ever all day. The wreck remained
during this time in sight, but of course we were increasing our distance
from her.
"What would have happened," said I to Peter, "if it had been night
instead of day; and if, instead of passing by the wreck, we had struck
against her?"
"Why, we should have given her a finishing-stroke, and very likely have
stove in our bottom and followed her," he answered. "I like to hear you
ask such questions; they show that you think. The event you have spoken
of occurs very frequently, I suspect. Numbers of vessels leave port,
and are never again heard of. They are either run down, or they run
their bows against a wreck, or the butt-end of a tree or log of timber;
some are burned; some run against icebergs, or fields of ice; and some
are ill put together, or rotten, and spring leaks, and so go down: but
to my mind the greater number are lost from the first cause I have
spoken of. You'll find out in time, Jack, all the perils to which a
seaman is exposed, as well as the hardships I once before spoke to you
about." I did not think at the time how true Peter's words would come.
We were nearly a mile from the wreck, I suppose, when night came on; but
the captain took her bearings by the compass, that he might know in what
direction to look for her should he be able to make sail before the
morning. I had got pretty well accustomed to the tumbling about by this
time, but I could scarcely sleep for thinking of the poor fellows on the
wreck. The night passed away without any change in the weather. When
morning came all hands were looking out for the wreck; but we all looked
in vain. There was the leaden sky, the dark-green foaming sea, but not
a spot on it to be observed far as the eye could reach. Before noon the
wind once more moderated, and making all sail we stood over the place
where, by our captain's calculations, the wreck would be found. Not a
sign of her was to be seen. It was too certain that she must have gone
down during the night.
Every day seemed to have its event. We were again on our proper course,
though the sea was still running high, when towards evening an object
was seen floating ahead of us, just on the lee-bow. We were at no great
distance, little more than half a mile or so, when first seen, so that
we were not left long in doubt as to what it was. "A raft!" said one;
"A piece of a wreck," said another; "Some casks," said a third.
"Whatever it is, there is a man upon it," exclaimed Peter; "and,
messmates, he's alive! Steady you," he added, looking at the man at the
wheel. "Keep her away a little," he said, addressing Mr Gale, who had
charge of the deck.
The news of what was seen at once spread below, and all hands were soon
on deck on the look-out. The man was alive, and saw us coming, for he
waved a handkerchief to attract our notice, lest he might not have been
observed. We waved to him in return, to keep up his spirits. As we
approached, we saw that the man was dressed as a sailor. He was seated
on a grating, made more buoyant by several pieces of spars and planks.
He was leaning against another plank, which he had secured in an upright
position by means of stays on the grating. Had not the sea been still
very high, we could have run alongside his raft and picked him off
without difficulty; but as it was impossible to steer with the necessary
nicety, there was a risk of running him down by so doing. We therefore
hove-to to windward of him; and Mr Gale, with the boat's crew who had
before volunteered, being lowered, they pulled carefully towards him.
The man stood up as he saw them approach; and scarcely had the bow of
the boat touched the grating, than he sprung on board, and without help
stepped over the shoulders of the men into the stern-sheets. When
there, however, his strength seemed to give way, and he sank down into
the bottom of the boat in what appeared to be a fainting fit. A few
drops from a flask, which Mr Gale had thoughtfully carried in his
pocket, partially revived the man, though he was unable to help himself
up the side. He was therefore slung on deck, and the boat being hoisted
in without damage, we again made sail.
The man, who was placed on deck with his back against the
companion-hatch, remained some time in an almost unconscious state; but
at length, after much care had been bestowed on him, he recovered
sufficiently to speak. He was a fine, good-looking young man; and his
well-browned countenance and hands showed that he had been long in a
tropical climate. A little food, taken slowly, still further revived
him; and he was soon able to lift himself up and look about him.
"How was it you came to be where we found you?" asked Captain Helfrich,
who was seated near him on the companion-hatch, while I was employed in
polishing up the brass rail of the companion-ladder.
"Why, I belonged to a ship, the _Oak Tree_, bound from Honduras to
Bristol with mahogany and logwood," answered the stranger. "We had made
a fair run of it, three days ago, when we were caught in a heavy squall,
which carried away our maintop-mast, and did us much damage.
Fortunately, I was at supper when all hands were called to shorten sail;
and not thinking what I was about, I clapped a whole handful of biscuit
and junk into my pocket before I sprang on deck. A few hours after
dark, a heavy sea struck the ship, and carried away our boats and
bulwarks, washing me with one or two other poor fellows overboard. I
was without my shoes, and had only a thin cotton jacket on; so, being a
good swimmer, I was able to regain the surface, and to look about me.
Away flew the ship before the wind, without a prospect of my being able
to regain her; so I did not trouble myself upon that point. The other
men who had been washed overboard with me had sunk: I could do them no
good. I therefore had only to look after myself. I first cast my eyes
about me, to see what I could get hold of to keep me afloat. The wreck
of the bulwarks and boats, with the spars which had been washed
overboard, had sent me some materials; and I got a couple of pieces
under my arms to support me while I looked for more. In the heavy sea
that was running, I could not have made much of a raft, when fortunately
my eye caught a grating; which I managed, after much exertion, to reach.
By degrees I fished up other pieces of plank and broken spars, till I
had formed the raft you found me on. Fortunately, I had started on my
cruise just after supper, so that I was able to hold out for some time
without eating. But when morning came, and there was not a sail in
sight, I began to feel somewhat down-hearted. However, I soon plucked
up again. Said I to myself, `Though the ocean is wide, there are a good
many craft afloat, and it will be hard if someone doesn't make me out
before very long.' I tried to think of all the wonderful escapes people
had made who had been in a similar condition; and I prayed that God
would deliver me in the same way. One thing weighed on my mind, and
still weighs there: I left a wife and a small child at home, near
Bristol; and when the ship arrives there, the poor girl will hear that I
was was washed overboard, and will believe me dead. When you got near
me, I saw that you were outward-bound; and the thought that she might
have to go many a month and not hear of me, served more than anything
else to upset me. My strength gave way, and I went off in a faint, as
you saw, in the bottom of the boat." He then told the captain that his
name was Walter Stenning. The captain, who was a kind-hearted man, did
his best to raise his spirits; and promised him that if we fell in with
a homeward-bound ship he would endeavour to put him on board.
As it happened, we did not speak any vessel till we reached the West
Indies; so we had to carry Walter Stenning with us.