VAIN EFFORTS.
Will Halley and his crew, taking advantage of the night and the
passengers' sleep, had fled with the only boat left. They could not
doubt it. This captain, who was in duty bound to be the last on board,
had been the first to leave.
[Sidenote: AN ADVANTAGEOUS LOSS.]
"The rascals have fled," said Captain Mangles. "Well, so much the
better, my lord. We are spared so many disagreeable scenes."
"I agree with you," replied Glenarvan. "Besides, there is a better
captain on board, yourself, and courageous seamen, your companions.
Command us; we are ready to obey you."
All endorsed Glenarvan's words, and, ranged along the deck, they stood
ready for the young captain's orders.
"What is to be done?" asked Glenarvan.
John cast a glance over the ocean, looked at the shattered masts of the
brig, and, after a few moments' reflection, said:
"We have two ways, my lord, of extricating ourselves from this
situation: either to raise the vessel and put her to sea, or reach the
coast on a raft, which can be easily constructed."
"If the vessel can be raised, let us raise it," replied Glenarvan.
"That is the best plan, is it not?"
"Yes, my lord; for, once ashore, what would become of us without means
of transport?"
"Let us avoid the coast," added Paganel. "We must beware of New
Zealand."
"All the more so, as we have gone considerably astray," continued
Captain Mangles. "Halley's carelessness has carried us to the south,
that is evident. At noon I will take an observation; and if, as I
presume, we are below Auckland, I will try to sail the Macquarie up
along the coast."
"But the injuries of the brig?" inquired Lady Helena.
"I do not think they are serious, madam," replied Captain Mangles. "I
shall rig a jury-mast at the bows; and we shall sail slowly, it is
true, but still we shall go where we wish. If, unfortunately, the hull
is stove in, or if the ship cannot be extricated, we must gain the
coast, and travel by land to Auckland."
"Let us examine the state of the vessel, then," said the major. "This
is of the first importance."
Glenarvan, the captain, and Mulready opened the main scuttle, and went
down into the hold. About two hundred tons of tanned hides were there,
very badly stowed away; but they could draw them aside without much
difficulty, by means of the main-stay tackling, and they at once threw
overboard part of this ballast so as to lighten the ship.
After three hours of hard labor, they could see the bottom timbers. Two
seams in the larboard planking had sprung open as far up as the channel
wales. As the Macquarie lay over on her starboard beams, her opposite
side was raised, and the defective seams were out of water. Wilson
hastened, therefore, to tighten the joints with oakum, over which he
carefully nailed a copper plate. On sounding they found less than two
feet of water in the hold, which the pumps could easily exhaust, and
thus relieve the ship. After his examination of the hull, the captain
perceived that it had been little injured in stranding. It was probable
that a part of the false keel would remain in the sand, but they could
pass over it.
Wilson, after inspecting the interior of the brig, dived, in order to
determine her position on the reef. The Macquarie was turned towards
the northwest, and lay on a very shelving, slimy sand-bar. The lower
end of her prow and two-thirds of her keel were deeply imbedded in
the sand. The rest, as far as the stern, floated where the water was
five fathoms deep. The rudder was not, therefore, confined, but worked
freely. The captain considered it useless to lighten her, as he hoped
they would be ready to make use of her at the earliest opportunity.
The tides of the Pacific are not very strong, but he relied upon their
influence to float the brig, which had stranded an hour before high
water. The only point was to extricate her, which would be a long and
painful task.
[Sidenote: LABOR FOR THE COMMON WEAL.]
"To work!" cried the captain.
His improvised sailors were ready. He ordered them to reef the sails.
The major, Robert, and Paganel, under Wilson's direction, climbed
the maintop. The top-sail, swelled by the wind, would have prevented
the extrication of the ship, and it was necessary to reef it, which
was done as well as possible. At last, after much labor, severe to
unaccustomed hands, the maintop-gallant was taken down. Young Robert,
nimble as a cat, and bold as a cabin-boy, had rendered important
services in this difficult operation.
It was now advisable to cast one anchor, perhaps two, at the stern of
the vessel in the line of the keel. The effect of this would be to
haul the Macquarie around into deep water. There is no difficulty in
doing this when you have a boat, but here all the boats were gone, and
something else must be supplied.
Glenarvan was familiar enough with the sea to understand the necessity
of these arrangements. One anchor was to be cast to prevent the ship
from stranding at low water.
"But what shall we do without a boat?" asked he of the captain.
"We will use the remains of the mizen-mast and the empty casks," was
the reply. "It will be a difficult, but not impossible task, for the
Macquarie's anchors are small. Once cast however, if they do not drag,
I shall be encouraged."
"Very well, let us lose no time."
To accomplish their object, all were summoned on deck; each took
part in the work. The rigging that still confined the mizen-mast was
cut away, so that the maintop could be easily withdrawn. Out of this
platform Captain Mangles designed to make a raft. He supported it by
means of empty casks, and rendered it capable of carrying the anchors.
A rudder was fastened to it, which enabled them to steer the concern.
This labor was half accomplished when the sun neared the meridian.
The captain left Glenarvan to follow out his instructions, and turned
his attention to determining his position, which was very important.
Fortunately, he had found in Will Halley's cabin a Nautical Almanac and
a sextant, with which he was able to take an observation. By consulting
the map Paganel had bought at Eden, he saw that they had been wrecked
at the mouth of Aotea Bay, above Cahua Point, on the shores of the
province of Auckland. As the city was on the thirty-seventh parallel,
the Macquarie had been carried a considerable distance out of her
course. It was, therefore, necessary to sail northward to reach the
capital of New Zealand.
"A journey of not more than twenty-five miles," said Glenarvan. "It is
nothing."
"What is nothing at sea will be long and difficult on land," replied
Paganel.
"Well, then," said Captain Mangles, "let us do all in our power to
float the Macquarie."
This question being settled, their labors were resumed. It was high
water, but they could not take advantage of it, since the anchors were
not yet moored. Yet the captain watched the ship with some anxiety.
Would she float with the tide? This point would soon be decided.
They waited. Several cracks were heard, caused either by a rising or
starting of the keel. Great reliance had been placed upon the tide, but
the brig did not stir.
The work was continued, and the raft was soon ready. The small anchor
was put on board, and the captain and Wilson embarked, after mooring
a small cable at the stern. The ebb-tide made them drift, and they
therefore anchored, half a cable's length distant, in ten fathoms of
water. The bottom afforded a firm hold.
[Sidenote: A MIDNIGHT CONCLAVE.]
The great anchor now remained. They lowered it with difficulty,
transported it on the raft, and soon it was moored behind the other;
the captain and his men returning to the vessel, and waiting for high
water, which would be early in the morning. It was now six o'clock
in the evening. The young captain complimented his sailors, and told
Paganel that, with the aid of courage and good discipline, he might one
day become quartermaster.
Meantime, Mr. Olbinett, after assisting in different operations, had
returned to the kitchen, and prepared a very comforting and seasonable
repast. The crew were tempted by a keen appetite, which was abundantly
satisfied, and each felt himself invigorated for fresh exertions.
After dinner, Captain Mangles took a final precaution to insure the
success of his experiment. He threw overboard a great part of the
merchandise to lighten the brig; but the remainder of the ballast, the
heavy spars, the spare yards, and a few tons of pig-iron, were carried
to the stern, to aid by their weight in liberating the keel. Wilson and
Mulready likewise rolled to the same place a number of casks filled
with water. Midnight arrived before these labors were completed.
But at this hour the breeze subsided, and only a few capricious
ripples stirred the surface of the water. Looking towards the horizon,
the captain observed that the wind was changing from southwest to
northwest. A sailor could not be mistaken in the peculiar arrangement
and color of the clouds. He accordingly informed Glenarvan of these
indications, and proposed to defer their work till the next day.
[Sidenote: "A TIDE IN THE AFFAIRS OF MEN."]
"And these are my reasons," said he. "First, we are very much fatigued,
and all our strength is necessary to free the vessel. Then, when this
is accomplished, how can we sail among the dangerous breakers, and
in such profound darkness? Moreover, another reason induces me to
wait. The wind promises to aid us, and I desire to profit by it, and
am in hopes that it will drift the old hull out when the tide raises
her. To-morrow, if I am not mistaken, the breeze will blow from the
northwest. We will set the main-sails, and they will help to raise
the brig."
[Illustration: They therefore anchored, half a cable's length distant,
in ten fathoms of water.]
These reasons were decisive. Glenarvan and Paganel, the most impatient
on board, yielded, and the work was suspended.
The night passed favorably, and day appeared. Their captain's
predictions were realized. The wind blew from the northwest, and
continued to freshen. The crew were summoned. It was nine o'clock. Four
hours were still to elapse before it would be high water, and that time
was not lost. The laborers renewed their efforts with very good success.
Meantime the tide rose. The surface of the sea was agitated into
ripples, and the points of the rocks gradually disappeared, like
marine animals returning to their native element. The time for the
final attempt approached. A feverish impatience thrilled all minds.
No one spoke. Each gazed at the captain, and awaited his orders. He
was leaning over the stern-railing, watching the water, and casting an
uneasy glance towards the cables.
At last the tide reached its height. The experiment must now be made
without delay. The main-sails were set, and the mast was bent with the
force of the wind.
"To the windlass!" cried the captain.
Glenarvan, Mulready, and Robert on one side, and Paganel, the major,
and Olbinett on the other, bore down upon the handles that moved the
machine. At the same time the captain and Wilson added their efforts to
those of their companions.
"Down! down!" cried the young captain; "all together!"
The cables were stretched taut under the powerful action of the
windlass. The anchors held fast, and did not drag. But they must be
quick, for high tide lasts only a few moments, and the water would not
be long in lowering.
They redoubled their efforts. The wind blew violently, and forced the
sails against the mast. A few tremors were felt in the hull, and the
brig seemed on the point of rising. Perhaps a little more power would
suffice to draw her from the sand.
"Helena! Mary!" cried Glenarvan.
The two ladies came and joined their efforts to those of their
companions. A final crack was heard, but that was all! The experiment
had failed. The tide was already beginning to ebb, and it was evident
that, even with the aid of wind and tide, this insufficient crew could
not float their ship.
As their first plan had failed, it was necessary to have recourse to
the second without delay. It was plain that they could not raise the
Macquarie, and that the only way was to abandon her. To wait on board
for the uncertain arrival of assistance would have been folly and
madness.
The captain therefore proposed to construct a raft strong enough to
convey the passengers and a sufficient quantity of provisions to the
New Zealand coast. It was not a time for discussion, but for action.
The work was accordingly begun, and considerably advanced when night
interrupted them.
In the evening, after supper, while Lady Helena and Mary Grant were
reposing in their berths, Paganel and his friends conversed seriously
as they paced the deck. The geographer had asked Captain Mangles
whether the raft could not follow the coast as far as Auckland, instead
of landing the passengers at once. The captain replied that it would be
impossible with such a rude craft.
"And could we have done with the boat what we cannot do with the raft?"
"Yes, candidly speaking, we could," was the reply; "but with the
necessity of sailing by day and anchoring by night."
[Sidenote: A FRENCHMAN'S FOIBLE.]
"Then these wretches, who have abandoned us----"
"Oh," said Captain Mangles, "they were drunk, and in the profound
darkness I fear they have paid for their cowardly desertion with their
lives."
"So much the worse for them," continued Paganel; "and for us, too, as
this boat would have been useful."
"What do you mean, Paganel?" said Glenarvan. "The raft will take us
ashore."
"That is precisely what I would avoid," replied the geographer.
"What! can a journey of not more than twenty miles terrify us, after
what has been done on the Pampas and in Australia?"
"My friends," resumed Paganel, "I do not doubt your courage, nor that
of our fair companions. Twenty miles is nothing in any other country
except New Zealand. Here, however, anything is better than venturing
upon these treacherous shores."
"Anything is better than exposing yourself to certain death on a
wrecked vessel," returned Captain Mangles.
"What have we to fear in New Zealand?" asked Glenarvan.
"The savages!" replied Paganel.
"The savages?" said Glenarvan. "Can we not avoid them by following the
coast? Besides, an attack from a few wretches cannot intimidate ten
well-armed and determined Europeans."
"It is not a question of wretches," rejoined Paganel. "The New
Zealanders form terrible tribes that struggle against the English
government, fight with invaders, frequently conquer them, and always
eat them."
"Cannibals! cannibals!" cried Robert; and then he murmured, as though
afraid to give full utterance to the words, "My sister! Lady Helena!"
"Never fear, my boy!" said Glenarvan; "our friend Paganel exaggerates."
[Illustration: The work was accordingly begun, and considerably
advanced when night interrupted them.]
[Illustration: Not long since, in the year 1864, one of these clergymen
was seized by the chiefs and hung from the tree.]
"I do not exaggerate," replied Paganel. "With these New Zealanders war
is what the sports of the chase are to civilized nations; and the game
they hunt for they feast upon."
"Paganel," said the major, "this may be all very true, but have you
forgotten the introduction of Christianity? has it not destroyed these
anthropophagous habits?"
"No, it has not," was the prompt reply. "The records are yet fresh of
ministers who have gone out to proclaim Christianity and have fallen
victims to the murderous and cannibal instincts of those to whom they
preached. Not long since, in the year 1864, one of these clergymen
was seized by the chiefs, was hung to the tree, was tantalized and
tortured to his last moments; and then, whilst some tore his body to
pieces, others devoured the various members. No, the Maoris are still
cannibals, and will remain so for some time to come."
But Paganel was on this point a pessimist, contrary to his usual
characteristic.