The _Lilly_, brought to the wind, once more stood back along the course
on which she had just before been sailing. She was then hove to. By
the captain's calculations, she had reached the locality where Bill had
fallen overboard. All hands were on deck and every eye strained,
endeavouring to pierce the thick gathering gloom in the direction where
it was supposed he might still be.
Friendly voices shouted out,--"Bill Sunnyside! Sunshine Bill! Answer,
lad! Answer!" Still no reply came.
"I knew it would be so," muttered old Grim. "The lad was always
boasting of being in such good luck, or something of that sort. And now
this is what his good luck has come to. Well, well, his fate has been
that of many, so there's nothing strange in it."
With this philosophical remark old Grim walked forward; but still,
somehow or other, his heart felt sorry at losing the poor lad, and he
went and peered down to leeward and then looked to windward again, in
the hopes that his eyes, which were among the sharpest on board, might
catch a glimpse of the lad. If he was clinging to the life-buoy he
might be all right, but where that was, was the question. Minutes
passed away, and still no one could discover Bill. The captain pulled
out his watch and went to the binnacle-lamp.
"Twenty minutes," he remarked to Mr Collinson. "A strong man could
scarcely swim as long in such a sea as this."
"But he may have got hold of the buoy, sir," observed Mr Collinson.
"True! If he has, I wish we could see him. I do not like to give him
up."
Another five minutes passed. Again the captain looked at his watch.
The time had appeared an age to him, as it had to most on board. He
took another turn on deck, and then looked out once more.
"Does nobody see him?" he asked; and there was sorrow and regret in his
tone.
There was no answer. The silence was very sad. Once more he returned
to the lamp.
"Half an hour has passed," he observed to Mr Barker. "I am afraid the
matter is hopeless."
"I am afraid so too," answered the lieutenant, who was a kind-hearted
man.
"It must be done!" he said. "Hands, wear ship!" he shouted out, in a
startling voice, evidently giving the order with no good will.
The men were hurrying to their stations to obey it, when Grimshaw
shouted out:--
"I heard a voice. It's Bill! It's Bill! Away to windward there!"
"Silence, fore and aft," cried the captain; and directly afterwards,
borne down by the gale, there came a loud, strange, wild cry.
"That's him! There's no mistake about it," cried Grimshaw; "hurrah!"
The crew gave a shout in reply.
"It will keep up the poor fellow's spirits," observed the captain.
"Now, silence, men." And now the awful thought crossed his mind, "Can I
allow a boat to be lowered in this broken, heavy sea, with the greatest
probability of her being capsized, and all hands in her lost?" These
words were uttered partly aloud.
"I'll go in her, sir," said Mr Collinson. "There will be no lack of
volunteers."
"Volunteers alone then must go," answered the captain. "The risk is a
fearful one, yet I cannot allow the poor lad to perish."
Scarcely had Mr Collinson shouted out, "I am going, lads! Volunteers
for the boat," than numbers of the crew came rushing aft, Jack Windy and
Grimshaw among them.
"I don't suppose we shall pick up the lad, after all," growled the
latter, "but we ought to try, I suppose."
As no man pulled a stouter oar than he did, Mr Collinson gladly
accepted him, as he did Windy.
Four other men were selected, and waiting for a favourable lull, the
boat was lowered. The bowman, however, in shoving off, lost his
balance, and overboard he went. Happily, the man next to him had just
time to seize him by the leg, and haul him in, though not without
difficulty his oar was saved. Not without sad forebodings of the fate
of the boat's crew, did the captain see her leave the ship's side.
"No man can handle a boat better than Collinson," he observed to Mr
Barker, who was by his side, "that's one comfort."
Away the boat pulled amidst the foaming broken seas, and was soon lost
to sight in the thick gloom which had settled down over the ocean.
"I should be thankful to see something of them again," observed the
captain to Mr Barker. "The boat has been a long time away. How long
do you think?"
"I did not look at my watch when she was lowered," answered the first
lieutenant, "but it is some time; yet the sea is a dangerous one; but,
as you say, sir, Collinson is wonderful handy in a boat, and he and his
crew will do what men can do, there is no doubt about that."
Still the captain looked very anxious, so did others on board. Even in
the attempt to pick up Bill, should he have floated so long, the boat
might be swamped. It was the most critical time; for the helmsman
looking towards the man he wished to save, might watch with less care
the approach of a curling sea. Had old Grim been on board he would have
been prognosticating dire disaster, but as he had gone away in the boat,
he knew better than anybody else on board, what had happened. Many had
become very anxious. Tommy Rebow, who was very fond of Bill, as well as
of Jack Windy, wrung his hands, almost bursting into tears, as, not
seeing them return, he began to fear that they both had been lost.
Meantime, where was Bill? On falling from aloft, and striking the
chain-span, which, though it did not break his bones, broke his fall, he
bounded off into the foaming sea. How he had not been killed he could
not tell, but one thing was certain, it was not his head that struck the
chain, but, as Jack Windy observed, it was the other end of his body.
The fact at all events was, that he reached the foaming raging water not
at all the worse for his fall. Though he went under for a moment, he
soon rose with his head above the surface. He turned himself round once
or twice to ascertain that all was right as far as his body was
concerned, and then quietly contented himself with keeping his head as
high above the foam as he well could. He did not think about sharks, or
it might have made him still more uncomfortable. As to swimming after
the ship, that he knew to be an impossibility.
"If I swim at all I shall only tire myself," he thought, so he just
threw himself on his back, and kept his eyes fixed on the ship, as she
flew away from him.
"It will be some time before she can be up to me again," he thought.
"Captain Trevelyan is not the man to desert one of his people, even a
little chap like me, and maybe he will remember what he said to my
mother. If I keep my clothes on me, I shall not be able to float as
long as without them."
Thinking thus, for he did not utter the words aloud, he managed to kick
off one shoe, then the other. He felt lighter without them. The
trousers were next to be got rid of. There was some risk in pulling
them off, lest he might get his feet entangled in them, but a sailor's
trousers are not very large. So Bill managed to draw up one of his legs
and get hold of the foot of the trousers; then he slipped the other leg
quickly out, and off went his trousers after his shoes. His shirt was
the next thing to be rid of, but there was a risk of the tails getting
over his head, so he rolled them up, and then getting one arm clear, in
a twinkling whisked it off, and there he was, floating out in the ocean,
with no more clothes on than when he was born; but he felt much lighter,
and when the seas came roaring round him he kept his head more easily
out of the curling foam. While getting off his clothes, he saw the
life-buoy, with its bright light bursting forth, drop into the water,
but it was too far off for him to attempt to reach it in that troubled
sea. Though, as has been said, he knew his captain too well to dread
that he would desert him, it was a sore trial of his faith to see the
ship sail on and on, till she vanished into gloom. He had seen the ship
wore round several times on different occasions. He knew that was the
way of getting her head in another direction, in such a sea as was now
running.
"The captain will not leave me; no, no fear of that," he thought, and
presently, once more, as if to reward his confidence, he saw the ship
appearing again through the gloom. On she came, nearer and nearer. He
longed to strike out towards her, but he felt that the attempt would be
useless, so he still lay floating with his hands moving, to prevent
being rolled over and over by the seas. On she came, her dark masts and
sails seen clearly against the sky, but she seemed about to pass him at
a distance. Then he saw her heave-to. And now his heart beat
anxiously. Would a boat be sent to pick him up? He was still too far
away to give him a hope of reaching it by swimming. He thought,
too,--"If I sing out I shall exhaust myself, and be unable to keep
afloat;" so he lay as before, hoping only as a person in his position
could hope, that a boat might be lowered. Yet he had been long enough
at sea to know the danger of the operation. He had heard of boats being
lowered in such a sea as was then running, and all hands being lost out
of them. He waited and waited. It seemed to him not as if one hour,
but hour after hour passed away, and there lay the ship, and yet no one
on board could see him, nor could he make himself heard, as he thought.
"They are looking for me, there's no doubt about that," he said to
himself; "but I wish they would send a boat."
If the water had been cold he could not have kept up, but it was just
pleasant, and he felt his strength in no way exhausted. At length, amid
the hurly-burly and clashing of the sea round him, although the corvette
was a long way to leeward, he heard Captain Trevelyan's voice shouting
out, "Up with the helm! Square away the after-yards!"
"Now," thought Bill, "I shall be left alone if I do not make myself
heard;" and as he rose to the summit of a sea, he shouted out with might
and main, "_Lilly_ ahoy!"
"Hold fast!" cried the captain. "Down with the helm again!" and then
came a hearty cheer from the deck of the ship.
It convinced him that his voice had been heard, but now he had a long
long time to wait. He was sure that a boat was being lowered, but
sometimes he pictured her to himself swamped alongside, and perhaps all
those coming to his rescue cast into the foaming sea. Anxiously he
looked out for her. How long it had seemed since he had shouted, and
yet no help had come to him. His confidence in his captain, however,
was unabated. He was sure that help would come, sooner or later. All
he had to do was to float till then. Fortunately, he did not think of
sharks, but still more fortunately, the sharks did not think of him. At
length he saw a dark object between him and the ship. Yes! Yes! It
was a boat! Now it was hid from his sight. Now he saw it again.
"_Lilly_ ahoy!" he shouted out again, but not so loud as before.
"Hurrah!" some voices cried in return;--"Cheer up, lad, cheer up; it's
all right!"
And then he saw without doubt a boat approaching, now making her way on
the summit of a foaming sea, now again sinking into the trough, and
being hid from his view. Still on she came towards him.
"Cheer up, lad!" again shouted a voice. It was that of old Grim. He
was sure he knew it.
At length there was the boat quite close to him. Eager hands were ready
to grasp him, but there was the danger of being struck by the bows of
the boat, or the oars.
He watched his opportunity, and singing out, "I'll make for the bow," he
struck forward.
Grimshaw's arms were extended towards him, and in another instant he
found himself grasped by those friendly hands, and hauled up into the
boat.
"Why, the lad's as slippery as an eel!" cried old Grim. "Are you hurt,
Bill?"
"No, thank you," answered Bill. "I'm hearty and strong, as if I had
only been taking a swim for pleasure."
"We must put you aft, though, and a jacket over you," said old Grim.
Fortunately, one of the men had one on. It was off in a moment, and
wrapped round Bill, who was passed aft into the stern-sheets.
"Thank Heaven you are saved, boy. The captain will be glad to hear it,"
said Mr Collinson, as he was putting the boat's head round.
And now once more she made for the ship. Bill was quickly hauled up the
side.
"Gripe him hard!" sung out old Grim, "or he will slip through your
fists, lads; he's got such a lot of seaweed round him."
"Why, how is this?" exclaimed the captain, as he saw Bill's condition.
Bill told him.
"You did wisely, lad," he observed; "and now go below and turn into your
hammock, and I will send the doctor and a stiff glass of grog, if he
will let you have it."
In another minute Bill was between the blankets; but the doctor, after
feeling his pulse, pronounced him none the worse for his ducking. The
grog came out hissing hot from the captain's cabin, but old Grim, who
was standing by the boy's hammock, declared it was somewhat too stiff
for a youngster, and helped him with half the contents; for which
kindness Bill was none the worse.
When Bill came on deck, the sun was shining brightly, the sea was blue
and smooth, and the ship was running to the west, with studding-sails
below and aloft.
"I told you so," said Bill to a remark of old Grim's. "There's the sun
shining out as bright as ever, and, through the mercy of Him who looks
after us poor sailors, not one of us has lost the number of his mess."