"Sail ho!" shouted the look-out in the foretop of the merchant brig, the
"Halcyon," one fine afternoon, some three months after, the events
related in the preceding chapter.
The sun was just setting in the western horizon, tinging the trembling
waves with a golden hue. The brig was making good weather of it, and
she looked a likely craft to do so. Her long, low, black hull supported
a pyramid of white canvas, every sail drawing to a nicety, as, with a
fresh breeze right over the quarter, she held her course to the
northward and westward, bound for the coast of Africa. Three men only
were pacing her quarter-deck. The one, a middle-sized, stout built man,
his face tanned to the colour of mahogany, was evidently the master of
the brig. The second, much younger, was his first mate; while leaning
over the bulwarks, lazily looking into the sea, a solitary passenger,
who had been taken on board when the brig lay in Madras roads, completed
the trio. Forward, on the forecastle, was a group of sailors, thrown
here and there under the weather bulwarks, some asleep, some telling
tales of former adventures in the land now a hundred miles away on the
brig's larboard bow, and which they hoped to sight in the morning.
"Sail ho!" shouted the look-out, and Captain Weber stopped suddenly in
his walk, turning to windward, his long grey hair streaming out on the
breeze as he did so. His was the seaman's face of the old type. The
forehead low and massive; the thick eyebrows overshadowing small
piercing eyes; the large good-humoured mouth ever ready to smile, and
showing as he did so a range of white teeth; bushy grey whiskers; and a
skin tanned to a good standing mahogany colour. His short sturdy frame
was clothed in a slop suit of pilot cloth, and a plain cap with a heavy
peak completed the picture.
Captain Weber had entered the merchant service as a boy; had been
pressed on board a man-of-war; had seen some service, and was now part
owner of the brig he commanded. Mr Blount, his first officer, was a
man of another school. Taller, and more finely formed, the straight
Grecian nose, dark hair, and carefully trimmed whiskers, were adorned by
a naval cap having a thin strip of gold lace round it, and the short
monkey jacket showed also on the cuffs of the sleeves the same bit of
coquetry in the shape of gold lace, it and the waistcoat boasting brass
buttons.
"Where away, Smith?--point to her," replied the latter, as he too
stopped in his walk, and looked aloft.
This was a phrase lately introduced into the Royal Navy, and copied by
the old captain. In a gale, when the look-out's voice could hardly be
heard above the roar of the wind, the pointing in the given direction
supplanted the voice, and was a useful innovation. The man's hand, on
this occasion, was held straight out, pointing to leeward, and there,
sure enough, the loftier sails of a full-rigged ship could be seen,
standing in the same direction as themselves. The two seamen, shading
their eyes from the last gleam of the sun, which was sinking like a ball
of red fire into the tumbling waves, gazed at the distant sail, making
her out to be a ship lying to, perhaps a whaler.
"It's a queer thing, that a whaler should be lying to so near land,
Blount," said Captain Weber, after he had looked long and attentively in
the direction of the ship. "Hand me the glass."
At this moment the passenger, waking up from his fit of abstraction,
joined the two seamen.
"A ship lying to--and what is there strange in that?" was the question
he asked.
"Why, Captain Hughes," replied the mate (Captain Weber being too busy
with the glass to reply), "a merchantman generally makes the best of her
way from port to port. With her, time is money, while one of Her
Majesty's cruisers (God bless her!) would be jogging along under easy
sail, not caring either for time or money; but certainly not hove to.
No; yonder ship must be a whaler; but it's not often those fellows find
their fish in such high latitudes."
"There," said Captain Hughes, for it was indeed he who was the
"Halcyon's" solitary passenger. "There--she fills."
"You have a quick eye for a soldier," exclaimed Captain Weber. "Yonder
ship has indeed filled as you call it; but allow me to tell you, as a
general rule, that square-rigged craft brace-up, while fore-and-aft
vessels fill, as they have no yards to brace-up."
"That's logical, at all events," answered the soldier.
"Ay, and it's seamanlike," replied Captain Weber. "Fore-and-aft
vessels, when hauling to the wind, get a pull at the sheets, so as to
get their sails to set flatter; but you are not absolutely wrong, for,
after lying to, both square-rigged and fore-and-aft vessels may be said
to fill and make sail. Correctly speaking, yonder whaler has braced up
her yards."
"We shall near her rapidly then?" inquired the soldier.
"We are running on two converging lines, which at a given point must
meet, and if yonder craft wishes to speak us, she will have it in her
power to do so," replied the precise old man. "Here's the steward to
announce dinner. The wind seems falling, Mr Blount. Shake out the
reefs in our topsails, and join us. Come, Captain Hughes, if your
appetite is as sharp as your eyes, you won't be sorry to go below."
The momentary bustle consequent on the making sail followed; the deck
was then handed over to the second mate, Mr Lowe (for Captain Weber,
contrary to the usual rules of the merchant service, had a first and
second mate), and all relapsed into the usual silence; the soughing of
the wind through the spars and rigging, and the splash of the waves as
they struck against the brig's bows, alone breaking the silence. The
stars peeped out, the wind falling with the setting sun, while, as the
brig was running free, the motion was slight. Now and then the ship's
bell rang out on the still night air, marking the passing hours, and the
monotonous tread of the officer in charge as he paced the deck, with
occasionally a loud laugh from the men forward, was heard.
Mr Lowe's watch was just ending, and the clear silver tones of the bell
had rang out eight times, when the first mate stopped in his walk,
looking at the binnacle light, "Have you remarked that red star yonder,
Mr Lowe?" asked the old salt at the helm.
"No, Adams; what do you make of it?" replied the officer, turning
towards the point indicated.
"Leastways, I don't think it's a star. Shouldn't that whaling chap be
down yonder away, sir?"
The second mate took the night-glass, and was in the act of adjusting
it, when a bright vivid flame shot up from the sea, and the black hull
and spars of a large ship were distinctly seen vomiting forth a volcano
of flame; then a low smothered thud came booming over the ocean, and for
an instant all was dark and silent. It was but for a few seconds,
however, for then a small quivering point of flame danced on the waves;
it spread, increasing rapidly in volume; the red light ran up the ropes
and rigging of the ship, which was only a few miles to leeward of the
"Halcyon." Her sails, one by one, caught fire, while explosion after
explosion followed, and by the lurid glare the crew of the doomed craft
might be seen moving about in helpless confusion.
"Starboard--starboard, you may, Adams." It was Captain Weber who spoke.
"Lay her head straight for the wreck. Take a pull at the
weather-sheets and haulyards, my lads. Cheerily, so--steady, Adams--
steady. Get the royals on her, Mr Lowe. Watch and idlers, make sail."
It was a splendid but a terrible sight, as the "Halcyon," under her
additional sail, plunged through the long seas, straight for the burning
ship. Soon the cries of the men on board her could be heard, and the
mainmast fell. The flames rose some two hundred feet into the air, the
sea being lighted up all round, while slowly surging through the ocean
came the dark hull of the "Halcyon," all possible sail set, on her
mission of mercy.
Nearer and nearer came the brig.
"See," said Captain Weber, pointing with his hand, "the boats have been
blown away, and the poor fellows have no means of leaving the wreck."
"Ay, and she must have powder on board, for the hatchways are blown off,
and the solid timbers of her decks forced up."
At this moment a fresh and fiercer burst of flame shot up into the air,
and the crew of the burning vessel could be seen jumping into the waves.
It was but a choice of deaths, the fierce volcano under foot, or the
surging waves around. Captain Weber stamped with impatience; his
clipper brig had never seemed to him to move so slowly, and yet every
sail drew, and the green water swirled under her counter as she cut her
way through the seas.
The ship was a complete wreck, her cargo was on fire, there were not any
boats; and a few men, clinging to some spare spars, which had been
thrown overboard evidently with the intention of making a raft, were now
all that were left to be saved.
Suddenly she gave one heavy lurch, and went down head foremost, leaving
what remained of her crew floating on the waste of waters. "See the
boats all clear, Mr Lowe; burn a blue light on the forecastle, and have
every man at his post ready to hand the royals and heave the brig to."
Hardly had the words been spoken by Captain Weber when a shriek of
anguish rose from the ocean. The cargo of the doomed ship had been
composed of naphtha, and now all at once it rose to the surface,
spreading over the waves and burning furiously. The sailors on the
spars were floating in a sea of fire, and a wail of anguish was given
out by the perishing men. It was a fearful sight as the brig rapidly
neared the fiery spot on the black ocean, the sharp death-cries ceasing
as the fierce flame circled round the unhappy crew. Minutes seemed
hours; and discipline was for the moment lost on board, her crew
crowding the gangways, and shouting to the perishing men words of
encouragement. The oldest sailor there had never before witnessed such
a sight as that presented by this red seething sea of flame, with the
writhing forms of the crew of the lost ship perishing miserably before
their eyes.
"Silence, fore and aft!" shouted Captain Weber. "Heave to, Mr Blount.
Stand by to lower away the cutter. Hold on with the blue light, Mr
Lowe, until the boat is lowered."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered the mate; and then his voice was heard over the
creaking of the tackles, the soughing of the breeze, giving the
necessary words of command, and before the cutter was ready to be
lowered the bows of the "Halcyon" sheered up into the wind, her royals
were let fly, her fore and mainsail hung flapping in the brails, and the
brig was rising and falling on the waves under her foretopsail, jib, and
boom-mainsail.
"Hush," said the captain, after the cutter had pulled some distance from
the brig's sides, "hush, I thought I heard a hail."
The men lay on their oars, the blazing light had gone out as suddenly as
it had been kindled, and the long swell of the ocean tossed the small
boat to and fro under the starlight as though she were a plaything. The
blue light was burning on the "Halcyon's" forecastle, giving her a
ghastly and spectrelike appearance, lighting up her spars, sails, and
rigging, and casting a strange glare on the sea around.
"Brig ahoy! brig ahoy!" came from out the darkness.
"Hallo! give way, my lads," and on went the cutter, the stout ash staves
bending as the men forced her through the water.
"Brig ahoy!" came the feeble shout, and giving the cutter a yaw to port
her bows, grazed a large spar, while the bowman holding on with his
boat-hook, the forms of two men were seen lashed to it. They were soon
hauled on board, and the cutter again in motion. For fully an hour did
Captain Weber row over the spot, but uselessly. There were remains of
wreck, of broken, half-charred planks and shattered timbers; but, with
the exception of these, and the two men first met with, not a vestige of
the stately ship remained.
"Fill and make sail, Mr Blount," said the captain, as he once more put
his foot on the quarter-deck; "send those two poor fellows below, and
let my steward see to their comfort. We will hear their tale
presently."
"Had we not better lie to till morning; may there not yet be some other
survivor?"
"Not a chance. I have pulled round the whole spot over and over again.
We have done all we can do. Lay her head again for Delagoa Bay,"
replied Captain Weber, as he went below, and so the yards were braced
round, the courses sheeted home, the royals once more set, and with a
fair wind the brig found herself, when morning dawned, seventy miles
from the scene of the late disaster. The horizon was clear, not a sail
being in sight; the whistling of the wind, the scream of the gulls,
which were now wheeling round the brig, showing the proximity to land,
those and the whish of the breaking wave being the only noises heard.
The decks had been holystoned, the sailors were busy coiling down spare
ropes or cleaning the brasswork, which was already as bright as could
be, and the regular step of the officer of the watch could be heard as
he paced the quarter-deck by those below.
The party in the cabin consisted of Captain Weber, his first officer,
his passenger, and the master of the "Argonaut," the ship which had been
burned at sea the previous night. Of the whole crew the captain and one
seaman only had been saved.
Sad enough he looked as he sat at the well-furnished breakfast-table,
his hair singed with fire, and his right arm in a sling.
"We were bound for England, and our cargo consisted of five hundred
barrels of naphtha," he said, in reply to a question addressed to him by
the first officer of the "Halcyon."
"Why were you lying to when we first sighted you?" asked Captain Weber,
"I thought our cargo had shifted a little in the late gale, and I had
been overhauling it. That night I was seated with my first mate in the
cabin when a furious explosion shook the ship. I was thrown down, and
how long I remained insensible I don't know. When I did come to I found
myself surrounded with wreck, everything smashed, the bulkheads driven
in, and the ship split in her waterway. Hardly had I realised the
extent of the misfortune when the cry of fire was heard. In a moment
the remainder of the naphtha was in flames, and I had hardly time to get
on deck."
"And the boats?" asked Captain Hughes.
"Blown to chips," was the reply. "I ordered the mainmast to be cut
away, but the flames were too quick for us, and all we could do was to
cut adrift the mainboom. I and Miller managed to reach it. The ship
was now burning fore and aft, and presently, as you saw, went down
bodily, the whole of the naphtha rising to the surface in a sea of
flame. I saw many of my poor fellows swim in this bath of fire. My
mate and steward went down beside me. The cook had lashed himself to a
piece of wreck, and for a quarter of an hour I heard his cries, then
they ceased suddenly. The rest you know."
A bustle on deck, a loud shout, and then a voice repeating the welcome
words, "Land ho!" disturbed the breakfast party, who hurried up the
hatchway, the poor, spirit-broken master of the "Argonaut" alone
remaining below. What to him was land? He had no ship, no crew to care
for. The fierce flame and the seething ocean had brought him ruin.
The wind was now well abaft the beam, and even to those on deck the long
cloud-like outline of land was soon, visible, as, every sail set that
would draw, the brig worked her way on, rising and falling on the long
seas, now rolling heavily to leeward as she sank in the green trough,
now lifting on the surging wave and heeling over as her loftier canvas
felt the full force of the breeze, until she showed her bright clean
copper nearly to her keel, only the next moment to dash her wedge-like
bows into the foam, sending the glittering particles high into the air,
deluging the forecastle with green water, as she drove onward towards
land. Above, the bright clear sky of an African day; the gulls and the
Mother Carey's chickens wheeling and circling round the masts. Captain
Weber, proud of his brig, felt she was doing her best, while by his side
walked the captain of the "Argonaut," sad and dispirited, his one hand
thrust deeply into his pocket, the other supported by a sling, his
burned hair and scorched face looking melancholy even beneath the bright
sunshine. To Captain Hughes, the long cloud-like line of the coast was
a promised land, where the mighty elephant, the lordly lion, and the
fierce rhinoceros waited him; and so the day wore on, and afternoon
came.
"Watch and idlers, shorten sail! In royals, start tacks and sheets!"
and soon the fore and main-royals were flying loosely in the wind, and
the ready seamen busy securing the flapping canvas.
Broad on the port bow the high land of Cape Colato could be seen, as
well as a lower bluff stretching away as it were to meet it, but failing
in its object, leaving an opening between the two headlands, thus
forming the harbour called Delagoa Bay, for which port the "Halcyon" was
bound.
On she flew, the wind freshening and the green waves seeming to lift the
brig forward on her ocean path. "Let fly the top-gallant sheets," and
soon the yards slowly settled down. "Take the foresail off her, Mr
Blount. Forward there, see the anchor all clear." The cheerful "Ay,
ay, sir," came back in reply to the loud tone of command from the
quarter-deck; for much as a sailor loves his ship, he is always pleased
at the sight of the port for which that ship is bound; and now the small
island of Inyak, nestled within the bay, and the houses of the town,
with their light verandahs and white walls, were seen plainer and
plainer, seeming to rise like a mirage from the sea, as the entrance to
the bay was opened. The brig's helm being jammed hard down, the
graceful craft flew up into the wind with a broad sheer, and soon she
rose and fell on the waves under her main-topsail, jib, and
boom-mainsail, her foresail hanging in the brails, and her foretopsail
still flying loose. A puff of white smoke from her bows followed, and a
small flag run up in the shape of a ball, and only breaking when it
reached its position aloft, was the signal for the pilot, which was soon
answered: a minute black speck, now mounting on the seas, now
disappearing in the deep trough, telling of the signal being seen and
complied with.
Glad to reach the land he had so long looked forward to, and yet at the
same time sorry to leave companions whose life, perils, and pleasures he
had shared for two months, Captain Hughes stood watching the shore-boat
as it pulled towards the ship.
"You'll be glad to land, Captain," said a voice by his side, and as he
turned, he saw close to him, leaning over the bulwarks, the
melancholy-looking master of the burned ship.
"Well, yesterday I would have said `Yes,' and somehow to-day I must say
`No'," replied Hughes.
"Ay, ay," struck in Captain Weber, as he passed in his quarter-deck
walk, taking off his seaman's cap and pushing back the long white hair
from his weather-tanned forehead, "you are as much a sailor as you are a
soldier. Well, I shall work the old bark up the coast, trading here and
there, I have still some months to spare, for mine is a three-year
voyage, and if you are for a passage home before we leave, look out for
the `Halcyon.'"
"I'll land here, and work my way to London," said the captain of the
"Argonaut."
"No, no, old fellow, we must not part so, I picked you up floating on a
loose spar, and I am not going to cut you adrift. Take share and share
with me, and our return voyage will be all the merrier."
The old man shook his head, for the loss of his ship and the fearful
fate of his crew, who had perished before his eyes by a death so
terrible and so totally unforeseen, had shaken his intellects, and from
a bold, daring seaman, he had in one night become completely changed.
Captain Weber saw this, and with his usual kindness of heart pitied his
less fortunate brother, as, taking his arm, he led him away, the two
diving below to seek consolation in the seaman's universal panacea--a
glass of grog, leaving Captain Hughes gazing over the sea, and wondering
why he was not pleased to land.
The creaking of the oars in the rowlocks was soon heard, as the
shore-boat, impelled by the efforts of four powerful men, came sweeping
up on the brig's quarter. A rope was hove, and a half-naked Malay
catching at the lee shrouds, as the "Halcyon" heeled over, swung himself
on board, losing as he did so his high conical hat, which, with a scanty
covering round the waist, formed his only clothing.
"Up with the helm, ease off the jib sheets, fill the main-topsail," were
the words of command given the moment the Malay pilot touched the deck
and walked aft. The brig's head paid off, her sails filled, and,
gathering headway, she once more surged through the seas, running slowly
into the bay, and ultimately dropping her anchor not more than fifty
yards from the town, where she was quickly surrounded by a whole fleet
of shore-boats, eager to sell fresh vegetables, bread, or anything else
saleable.
Volume 1, Chapter III.