He meant to put down 500, and thought that he was right!
Having completed his task, he folded up the letter carefully, and
addressed it to "Mrs Gaff, sailor's wife, The Cove, England." Then he
inserted it into the empty bottle to which reference has been made, and
corking it up tight committed it to the waves with an earnest prayer for
its safe arrival at its destination. He then resumed his oars with a
feeling of great relief, as if a heavy weight had been taken off his
mind, and watched the precious bottle until it was out of sight astern.
By this time the face of nature had changed somewhat. With the
advancing day the wind arose, and before noon it was blowing a stiff
breeze. The rolling of the boat awoke Billy, who looked up anxiously.
"Ay, it'll be all over sooner than I thought on," murmured Gaff, as he
glanced to windward.
"What'll be all over, daddy?" inquired the boy, who, being accustomed to
boating in rough weather, thought nothing of the threatening appearance
of things.
"Nothin', lad, nothin'; I was only thinkin' aloud; the wind's
freshenin', Billy, an' as you may have to sit a long spell at the tiller
soon, try to go to sleep agin. You'll need it, my boy."
In spite of himself, Gaff's tone contained so much pathos that Billy was
roused by it, and would not again try to sleep.
"Do let me pull an oar, daddy," he said earnestly.
"Not yet, lad, not yet. In a short time I will if the breeze don't get
stiffer."
"Why don't _he_ pull a bit, daddy?" inquired Billy pointing with a frown
at the figure that lay crouched up in the bow of the boat.
Just then a wave sent a wash of spray inboard and drenched the skipper,
who rose up and cursed the sea.
"You'd better bale it out than curse it," said Gaff sternly; for he felt
that if there was to be anything attempted he must conquer his desperate
companion.
The man drew his knife. Gaff, noticing the movement, leaped up, and
catching hold of the tiller, which Billy handed to him with alacrity,
faced his opponent.
"Now, Graddy," he said, in the tone of a man who has thoroughly made up
his mind, "we'll settle this question right off. One of us must submit.
If fair means won't do, foul shall be used. You _may_ be bigger than
me, but I don't think ye're stronger: leastwise ye'll ha' to prove it.
Now, then, pitch that knife overboard."
Instead of obeying, Graddy hurled it with all his force into Gaff's
chest. Fortunately the handle and not the point struck him, else had
the struggle been brief and decisive. As it was, the captain followed
up his assault with a rush at his opponent, who met him with a heavy
blow from the tiller, which the other received on his left arm, and both
men closed in a deadly struggle. The little boat swayed about
violently, and the curling seas came over her edge so frequently that
Billy began to fear they would swamp in a few moments. He therefore
seized the baling-dish, and began to bale for his life while the men
fought.
Gaff soon proved to be the better man, for he finally flung the captain
over the middle thwart and almost broke his back.
"Now, do ye give in?" he shouted fiercely, as he compressed the other's
throat with both hands.
Graddy gasped that he did; so Gaff allowed him to rise, and bade him
take the baling-dish from the boy and set to work without delay.
The wretched man was so thoroughly cowed that he thereafter yielded
instant obedience to his companion.
The wind was blowing furiously by this time, and the waves were running
high, so that it required constant baling, and the utmost care in
steering, to keep the boat from being swamped. Fortunately the storm
was accompanied by heavy rain, so that by catching a little of this in
their jackets and caps, they succeeded in quenching their thirst.
Hunger they had scarcely felt up to this time, but soon the cravings of
nature began to be imperious, and Gaff served out the first ration, on
the short allowance scale, which was so small that it served only to
whet their appetites. There was no need to row now. It was absolutely
necessary to run before the wind, which was so strong that a single oar,
set up in the place where the mast should have been, was sufficient to
cause the light craft to fly over the waves.
Each took the helm for a couple of hours by turns. Thus employed they
spent the day, and still thus employed the dark night found them.
Bad though things looked when there was light enough to enable them to
see the rush of the black clouds overhead, the bursts of the driving
spray and the tumultuous heavings of the wild sea, it was inconceivably
worse when the darkness settled down so thick that they could barely see
each other's faces, and the steering had to be done more by _feeling_,
as it were, than sight. Gaff took the helm during the greater part of
the night, and the other two baled incessantly; but the gale increased
so much that the water at last came in faster than it could be thrown
out, and they expected to be swamped every instant.
"We're goin' down, daddy," said Billy, while a strong inclination to
burst into tears almost choked him.
"Here, lad," shouted Gaff in a loud voice, for the noise of the wind and
waves rendered any other sound almost inaudible, "take the helm and keep
her right before the wind. Ye used to steer well; do yer best now, my
boy."
While he spoke Billy obeyed, and his father sprang into the middle of
the boat, and grasped the three oars and boat-hook with which the boat
was supplied. There were two small sails, which he wrapped hastily
round these, and then tied them all together tightly with a piece of
rope. In this operation he was assisted by Graddy, who seemed to
understand what his comrade meant to do.
The boat was now half full of water.
"Down the helm--hard down," roared Gaff.
"Ay, ay, sir," responded Billy, with the ready promptitude of a seaman.
The boat flew round; at the same moment Gaff hurled the bundle of sails
and spars overboard, and eased off the coil of rope to the end of which
it was attached. In a few seconds it was about forty yards away to
windward, and formed a sort of floating breakwater, which, slight though
it was, proved to be sufficient to check the full force of the seas, so
that the little boat found partial shelter to leeward.
The shelter was terribly slight, however; only just sufficient to save
them from absolute destruction; and it was still necessary for one of
their number to be constantly employed in baling out the water.
During the night the clouds cleared away, but there was no abatement of
the wind; and having no water they were obliged to eat their allowance
of biscuit either in a dry state or moistened in the sea.
Next day the sun rose in a cloudless sky, and all day it shone upon them
fiercely, and the wind moderated enough to render baling unnecessary,
but still they did not dare to haul in their floating bulwark.
Extreme thirst now assailed them, and Graddy began in an excited state
to drink copiously of salt water.
"Don't go for to do that, cap'n," remonstrated Gaff.
A derisive laugh was the only reply.
Presently Graddy arose, and going into the head of the boat, took up the
baling-dish and again drank deeply of the sea-water. "Ha! ha!" he
laughed, tossing his arms wildly in the air, and gazing at Gaff with the
glaring eyes of a maniac, "that's the nectar for me. Come, boys, I'll
sing you a ditty."
With that he burst into a roaring bacchanalian song, and continued to
shout, and yell, and drink the brine until he was hoarse. But he did
not seem to get exhausted; on the contrary, his eyes glared more and
more brightly, and his face became scarlet as the fires that were raging
within him increased in intensity.
Billy clung to his father, and looked at the captain in speechless
horror. Even Gaff himself felt an overpowering sense of dread creep
over him, for he now knew that he had to deal with a raving maniac. Not
knowing what to do, he sat still and silent in the stern of the boat
with the tiller in his hand, and his eyes fixed immovably on those of
the madman, who seemed to feel that it was a trial as to which should
stare the other down, for he soon gave up singing and drinking, and
devoted all his energies of body and soul to glaring at his enemy.
Thus they continued until the sun began to set. Then Gaff's heart sank
within him, for he felt sure that, whenever it was too dark for each to
see the other, the madman would summon up courage to make a sudden
attack.
The attack, however, was precipitated by Gaff inadvertently glancing
over his shoulder to observe how far the sun had yet to descend.
Instantly, with the leap of a panther, Graddy was upon him with both
hands grasping tightly at his throat. Down, down, he pressed him, until
Gaff lay on his back with his head over the gunwale. His strength now
availed him nothing, for unnatural energy nerved the madman's arm.
Billy sprang up and tried to disengage him from his grasp. As well
might the rabbit try to unlock the boa's deadly coil. Wrenching the
tiller from his father's grasp he hit the madman on the head with all
his might; but the poor boy's might was small. The blow seemed to have
no effect at all. Again and again he brought it down in an agony of
haste lest his father should be strangled before the other was felled.
At last he hit him with all his force behind the ear, and Graddy's grasp
relaxed as he fell prone on the body of his insensible victim.
To pull him off and haul his father into a more convenient position was
the work of a few seconds.
"O daddy, daddy, speak to me," he cried, loosening his father's
neckcloth and unbuttoning his shirt. "Oh, quick! get better before _he_
does," cried Billy wildly, as he shook his father and laved water on his
face; "oh! he'll get well first and kill you."
In order to do all that lay in his power to prevent this, Billy suddenly
sprang up, and, seizing the tiller, dealt the prostrate Graddy several
powerful blows on the head. It is not improbable that the frightened
boy would have settled the question of his recovery then and there had
not his father revived, and told him to stop.
For some minutes Gaff sat swaying about in a confused manner, but he was
roused to renewed action by seeing Graddy move.
"We must hold him now, Billy. Is there a bit of rope about?"
"Not a inch, you tied it all round the oars."
"It's awkward. However, here's my necktie. It an't strong, but it's
better than nothin'."
Gaff was about to take it off when Graddy recovered suddenly and
attempted to rise. The others sprang on him and held him down; but they
did so with difficulty, for he was still very strong.
All that night did they sit and hold him, while he raved and sang or
struggled as the humour seized him. They did not dare to relax their
hold for a moment; because, although he lay sometimes quite still for a
lengthened period, he would burst forth again without warning and with
increased fury.
And still, while they sat thus holding down the maniac, the wind blew
fiercely over the raging sea, and the waves curled over and burst upon
their tiny breakwater, sending clouds of spray over their head, insomuch
that, ere morning, the boat was nearly half full of water.
When morning at last broke, father and son were so much exhausted that
they could scarcely sit up, and their cramped fingers clung, more by
necessity than by voluntary effort, to the garments of the now dying
man.
Graddy was still active and watchful, however. His face was awful to
look upon, and the fire of his restless eyes was unabated. When the sun
rose above the horizon both Gaff and Billy turned their weary eyes to
look at it. The madman noted the action, and seized the opportunity.
He sprang with an unearthly yell, overturned them both, and plunged head
foremost into the sea.
Twice he rose and gave vent to a loud gurgling cry, while Gaff and his
son seized the rope attached to the oars, intending to pull them in and
row to his assistance, for he had leaped so far out that he was beyond
their reach. But before they had pulled in half of the cable the
wretched man had disappeared from their view for ever.
Slacking off the rope they let the boat drift astern again to its full
extent. Then, without a word, without even a look, father and son lay
down together in the stern-sheets, and were instantly buried in a
profound deathlike slumber.