NIGHT AND STORM.
Sudden and severe was the gale which came down upon the Roebuck, while
her captain was besotted and helpless in his berth. Mr. Lincoln did all
that a skilful seaman could do, and while the wind and the waves were
the only perils against which the schooner had to contend, there was no
serious alarm for her safety. The night had come, and the time had
passed by when even Captain McClintock could do anything more than the
mate.
Mr. Lincoln had kept the "dead reckoning" as well as he could without
any knowledge of the currents; and it was evident that the vessel was in
a perilous situation, and not far distant from the region of islands and
coral reefs. The first hours of the stormy night wore gloomily away, for
none knew at what moment the schooner might be dashed to pieces upon
some hidden rock.
When the captain revived a little from the stupor of intoxication, he
seemed not to heed the situation of the vessel. Taking the cabin
lantern, he went into the hold again. His only thought seemed to be of
the liquor on which he lived. All the cases that Mollie and Noddy could
find had been thrown overboard; but the drunkard overhauled the cargo
till he found what he wanted, and taking a bottle of gin to his
state-room, he was soon as senseless as the fiery fluid could make him.
Mollie did all that she could do under these trying circumstances; she
prayed that the good Father who had saved them before, would be with
them now; and she knew that the strong arm of Omnipotence could move far
from them the perils with which they were surrounded. She felt better
every time she prayed. But the storm increased in fury, and she knew not
the purposes of the Infinite in regard to them.
"I am afraid we shall never see the light of another day, Noddy," said
she, as the great seas struck with stunning force against the side of
the vessel.
"Why not? We have been out in a worse gale than this," replied Noddy,
who felt that it was his peculiar office to keep hope alive in the
heart of his gentle companion.
"But we may be in the midst of the rocks and shoals."
"We shall do very well, Mollie. Don't give it up."
"I don't give it up; but I am ready for anything. I want to be resigned
to my fate whenever it comes."
"Don't be so blue about it, Mollie. It will be all right with us in the
morning."
"You heard what Mr. Lincoln said, and you know we are in great danger."
"Perhaps we are."
"You know we are, Noddy."
"Well, we are; but for all that, the vessel will ride out the gale, and
to-morrow you will laugh to think how scared you were."
"I am not scared; I am ready to die. Promise me one thing, Noddy."
"Anything," answered he, promptly.
"You will not blame my father if the vessel is lost. He is insane; he
can't help what he does. He never did so before, and I know he don't
mean to do wrong."
"I suppose he don't, and I won't blame him, whatever happens," replied
he, willing to comfort the poor girl in any way he could.
"I should not care so much if it didn't look as though it was all
father's fault."
"It will be all right to-morrow. We will throw the rest of the liquor
overboard. We will search through the hold, and not leave a single
bottle of anything there. Then we shall be safe."
"It will be too late then," sighed Mollie.
"No, it won't; the vessel will be saved. I _know_ it will," added Noddy,
resolutely.
"You don't know."
"Yes, I do; I am just as certain of it as I am of my own existence."
Noddy had hardly uttered these confident words, before a tremendous
shock threw them upon the cabin floor. It was followed by a terrible
crashing sound, as though every timber in the vessel had been rent and
broken; and they could hear the rush of waters, as the torrents poured
in through the broken sides. Noddy, without stopping to think of the
vain prophecy he had made, seized the light form of Mollie, and bore her
to the deck. The sea was running riot there; the great waves swept over
the deck with a force which no human strength could resist, and Noddy
was compelled to retreat to the cabin again.
The lantern still swung from a deck beam, but the water had risen in the
cabin so that his descent was prevented. The Roebuck had run upon a reef
or shoal in such a manner that her bow was projected far out of the
water, while her stern was almost submerged in the waves. Noddy's quick
perception enabled him to comprehend the position of the vessel, and he
placed his charge on the companion ladder, which was protected in a
measure from the force of the sea by the hatch, closed on the top, and
open only on the front.
"My father!" gasped Mollie. "Save him, Noddy!"
"I will try," replied Noddy. "Hold on tight," added he, as a heavy
volume of water rolled down the companion-way.
"Save him, and don't mind me," groaned the poor girl, unselfish to the
last.
The brave boy stepped down to the cabin floor, where the water was up to
his hips. Creeping on the top of the lockers, and holding on to the
front of the berths, he reached the door of the captain's state-room. In
this part of the vessel the water had risen nearly to the top of the
door, and the berth in which the unfortunate inebriate lay was entirely
beneath its surface. He crawled into the room, and put his hand into the
berth. The captain was not there.
The water was still rising, and Noddy had no doubt that the poor man had
already perished. The shock of the collision when the schooner struck,
or the rising waters, had forced him from his position on the bed. The
water was over Noddy's head in the state-room; but the agony of Mollie
induced him to make a desperate effort to save her father. He dropped
down on the floor, and felt about with his feet, till he found the body.
The question was settled. Captain McClintock was dead. He was one of the
first victims of his criminal neglect.
It was not safe to remain longer in the state-room, even if there had
been any motive for doing so, and Noddy worked his way forward again as
he had come. He found Mollie still clinging to the ladder, suffering
everything on account of her father, and nothing for herself.
"My poor father!" said she, when she discovered her friend coming back
without him. "Where is he, Noddy?"
"I couldn't do anything for him, Mollie," replied he.
"Is he lost?"
"He is gone, Mollie; and it was all over with him before I got there.
Don't cry. He is out of trouble now."
"Poor father," sobbed she. "Couldn't you save him? Let me go and help
you."
"No use, Mollie," added Noddy, as he climbed up the ladder, and looked
out through the aperture at the hatch.
"Are you sure we can't do anything for him?" she asked, in trembling
tones.
"Nothing, Mollie. He was dead when I opened the door of his room. I
found him on the floor, and had to go down over my head to find him. He
did not move or struggle, and I'm sure he is dead. I am sorry, but I
can't help it."
"O, dear, dear!" groaned she, in her anguish.
She heeded not the cracking timbers and the roaring sea. Her heart was
with the unfortunate man who lay cold and still beneath the invading
waters. She was ready to go with him to the home in the silent land.
"You hold on tight a little while, and I will go on deck, and see if I
can make out where we are," said Noddy.
"It matters little to me where we are. I shall soon be with my father,"
replied Mollie.
"Don't say that. Your father is at rest now."
"And I shall soon be at rest with him. Do you hear those terrible waves
beat against the vessel? They will break her in pieces in a few moments
more."
"Perhaps they will, and perhaps they won't. You mustn't give up, Mollie.
If I should lose you now, I shouldn't care what became of me."
"You have been very good to me, Noddy; and I hope God will bless you."
"I want to save you if I can."
"You cannot, Noddy, in this terrible storm. We are poor weak children,
and we can do nothing."
"But I am bound to work and win. I shall not give it up yet, Mollie. We
have struck upon a rock or a shoal, and the land can't be a great ways
off."
"Such an awful sea! We could never reach the land."
"We can try--can't we?"
"Where is Mr. Lincoln?"
"I don't know. I have not heard a sound but the noise of the sea since
the vessel struck. I suppose he and the rest of the men were washed
overboard."
"How horrible!"
"I don't know. They may have left in one of the boats."
"I haven't any courage, Noddy. My poor father is gone, and I don't feel
as though it made any difference what became of me."
"Don't talk so, Mollie. Save yourself for my sake, if you don't for your
own."
"What can we do?" asked she, blankly, for the situation seemed utterly
hopeless.
"I don't know; I will see," replied Noddy, as he crawled through the
aperture, and reached the deck.
A huge wave struck him as he rose upon his feet, and bore him down to
the lee side of the vessel; but he grasped the shrouds, and saved
himself from being hurled into the abyss of waters that boiled in the
fury of the storm on both sides of the stranded schooner. He ran up the
shrouds a short distance, and tried to penetrate the gloom of the night.
He could see nothing but the white froth on the waves, which beat on all
sides. There was no land to be seen ahead, as he had expected, and it
was evident that the Roebuck had struck on a shoal, at some distance
from any shore.
It was impossible to walk forward on the deck, for the savage waves that
broke over the vessel would have carried him overboard. The sight
suggested the manner in which the men had so suddenly disappeared. They
had probably been swept away the moment the vessel struck. The rigging
of the schooner was all standing, and Noddy decided to go forward to
ascertain if there was any comfortable position there for Mollie. He
went to the main-mast head, and, by the spring-stay, reached the
fore-mast. Descending by the fore-shrouds, he reached the forecastle of
the schooner.
The bow had been thrown up so high on the shoal that the sea did not
break over this part of the vessel with anything like the force it did
farther aft. The hatch was on the fore-scuttle, and it was possible that
the men had taken refuge in the forecastle. Removing the hatch, he
called the names of Mr. Lincoln and others; but there was no response.
He then went down, and attempted to make his way aft through the hold.
This was impossible, and he was obliged to return by the way he had
come.
"My poor father!" sighed Mollie, as Noddy reached the ladder to which
she was clinging; "I shall never see you again."
"Come, Mollie. I want you to go with me now," said he, taking her by the
arm.
"Did you find any of the crew?" she asked.
"Not a single one."
"Poor men!"
"I am afraid they are all drowned; but we may be saved if we only work.
If we stay here we shall certainly be lost. If the sea should carry off
the companion-hatch, we should be drowned out in spite of all we could
do."
"What can we do?"
"We must go forward."
"That is impossible for me, Noddy."
"No, it isn't."
"Save yourself, Noddy, if you can. I do not feel like doing anything."
"I shall stay by you, and if you are lost I shall be lost with you."
"Then I will go with you, and do anything you say," said she, earnestly;
for when the life of another was at stake, she was willing to put forth
any exertion.
"The vessel holds together first-rate, and if we stick by her till
morning, we may find some way to save ourselves. Don't give it up,
Mollie. Work and win; that's my motto, you know."
"I am ready to work with you, Noddy, whether you win or not."
The persevering boy got a rope, which he made fast around the little
girl's body, and watching his time, at the intervals of the breaking
waves, he bore her to the main shrouds. She went up to the mast head
without much difficulty, though the force of the wind was so great that
Noddy had to hold on to her, to keep her from being blown from the
ropes.
At this point he made a sling for her on the spring-stay, in which she
sat as a child does in a swing. It was adjusted to the big rope so that
it would slip along, and permit her to hold on to the stay with her
hands. The vessel seemed to be so wedged in the rocks or sand, on which
she had struck, that she did not roll, and the only obstacle to a safe
passage from one mast to the other, was the violence of the gale. By
Noddy's careful and skilful management, the transit was made in safety
through the most imminent peril. The descent to the deck, forward, was
more easily accomplished, and the heroic youth soon had the pleasure of
seeing his gentle charge safe, for the present, in the forecastle.
He had worked and won, so far. He was satisfied with the past, and
hopeful of the future. Having conducted Mollie to a safe place, he
turned his attention once more to the situation of the vessel. Looking
over the bow, he discovered the dark, ragged rocks, rising a few feet
above the water, on which she had struck, but he could not see any
land.