CHAPTER XI
_In Which the "First Venture" All Ablaze Forward, Is Headed For the Rocks and Breakers of the Chunks, While Bill o' Burnt Bay and His Crew Wait for the Explosion of the Powder in Her Hold. In Which, Also, a Rope Is Put to Good Use_
"Fire!"
A cloud of smoke broke from the forecastle and was swept off by thewind. A tongue of red flame flashed upward and expired. Skipper Billdid not need the cries of terror and warning to inform him. The _FirstVenture_ was afire! And she was not only afire; she was off the Chunksin a gale of wind and snow.
"Aft, here, one o' you!"
When Billy Topsail took the wheel, the skipper plunged into theforecastle. It was a desperate intention. He was back in a moment,singed and gasping. But in that interval he had made out that theforecastle stove, in some violent lurch of the schooner, had brokenloose, and had been bandied about, distributing red coals in everypart. He had made out, moreover, that the situation of the schoonerwas infinitely perilous, if not, indeed, quite beyond hope. Theforecastle was all ablaze. In five minutes it would be a furnace.
"We're lost!" Jimmie Grimm cried, staring at the frothy waves runningpast.
"Not yet," Archie grimly replied.
They were all of heart and strength and ingenuity; and they workedwith all their might. But the buckets of water, and the great seas,which Skipper Bill, in desperation, deliberately shipped, made littleimpression. It was soon evident that the little _First Venture_ wasdoomed. Meantime, the skipper had brought her before the wind, and shewas now flying towards the inhospitable Chunks. The skipper was lessconcerned for his schooner than for the lives of his crew. The shipwas already lost; the crew--well, how _could_ the crew survive therocks and gigantic breakers of the Chunks?
It was the only hope. No small boat could for a moment live in the seathat was running. The schooner must be beached on the Chunks. Therewas no other refuge. But how beach her? It was a dark night, with thesnow flying thick. Was it possible to sight a black, low-lying rock?There was nothing for it but to drive with the wind in the hope ofstriking. There were many islands; she might strike one. But would itreally be an island, whereon a man might crawl out of reach of thesea? or would it be a rock swept by the breakers? Chance woulddetermine that. Skipper Bill was powerless.
But would she make the Chunks before she was ablaze from stem tostern? Again, the skipper was powerless; he could do no more than giveher all the wind that blew.
So he ordered the reefs shaken out--and waited.
"Tom," said the skipper, presently, to the first hand, "was it youstowed the cargo?"
"Yes, sir."
There was a pause. Archie Armstrong and Jimmie Grimm, aft near thewheel, wondered why the skipper had put the question.
"An' where," the skipper asked, quietly, "did you put the powder?"
"For'ard, sir."
"How far for'ard?"
"Fair up against the forecastle bulkhead!"
The appalling significance of this was plain to the crew. Thebulkhead was a thin partition dividing the forecastle from the hold.
"Archie," Skipper Bill drawled, "you better loose the stays'l sheet.She ought t' do better than this." He paused. "Fair against theforecastle bulkhead?" he continued. "Tom, you better get the hatchoff, an' see what you're able t' do about gettin' them six kegs o'powder out. No--bide here!" he added. "Take the wheel again, Billy.Get that hatch off, some o' you."
It was the skipper himself who dropped into the hold. The cargo waspacked tight. Heavy barrels of flour, puncheons of molasses, casks ofpork and beef, lay between the skipper and the powder. He crawledforward, wriggling in the narrow space between the freight and thedeck. No fire had as yet entered the hold; but the place was full ofstifling smoke. It was apparent that the removal of the powder wouldbe the labour of hours; and there were no hours left for labour. Theskipper could stand the smoke no longer. He retreated towards thehatch. How long it would be before the fire communicated itself to thecargo--how long it would be before the explosion of six kegs of powderwould scatter the wreck of the _First Venture_ upon the surface ofthe sea--no man could tell. But the end was inevitable.
Anxious questions greeted the skipper when again he stood upon thewind-swept deck.
"Close the hatch," said he.
"No chance, sir?" Archie asked.
"No, b'y."
The forecastle was already closed. There was no gleam of fire anywhereto be seen. The bitter wind savoured of smoke; nothing else betrayedthe schooner's peril.
"Now, get you all back aft!" was the skipper's command. "Keep her headas it points."
When the crew had crept away to the place remotest from the dangerpoint, Bill o' Burnt Bay went forward to keep a lookout for the rocksand breakers. The burning forecastle was beneath his feet; he couldhear the crackling of the fire; and the smoke, rising now morevoluminously, troubled his nostrils and throat. It was pitch darkahead. There was no blacker shadow of land, no white flash of water,to give him hope. It seemed as though an unbroken expanse of sea laybefore the labouring _First Venture_. But the skipper knew to thecontrary; somewhere in the night into which he stared--somewherenear, and, momentarily, drawing nearer--lay the Chunks. He wondered ifthe _First Venture_ would strike before the explosion occurred. Itmust be soon, he knew. The possibility of being off the course did nottrouble him.
Soon the seams of the deck began to open. Smoke poured out inthickening clouds. Points of light, fast changing to lines of flame,warned the skipper that he must retreat. It was not, however, untilheat and smoke and the certain prospect of collapse compelled him,that he joined the crew. He was not a spectacular hero; when commonsense dictated return, he obeyed without delay, and without maudlincomplaint. Without a word he took the wheel from Billy Topsail'shands, and without a word he kept the schooner on her course. Therewas no need of command or advice; men and boys knew their situationand their duty.
"It can't be long," said the cook.
There was now a glow of red light above the forecastle. The fire wasabout to break through. It was not hard to surmise that the collapseof the bulkhead was imminent.
"No, sir!" the fidgety cook repeated. "It can't be long, now."
It seemed long. Minute after minute passed, each of incredible length,while the _First Venture_ staggered forward, wildly pitching throughthe seas. At last, the flames broke out of the forecastle andilluminated the deck.
"Not long, now!" the cook whimpered. "It _can't_ be!"
Nor was it. The _First Venture_ struck. She was upon the rocks beforethe skipper was well aware that breakers lay ahead. Her bow fell,struck, was lifted, fell again, and fastened itself. The next waveflung the schooner broadside. The third completed the turn. She laywith her head pointing into the wind. Her stern, where the crew stoodwaiting for the end, rose and fell on the verge of a great breaker.Beyond was a broken cliff, rising to unwashed heights, which the snowhad begun to whiten. The bow was lifted clear of the waves; the sternwas awash. A space of white water lay between the schooner and theshore.
Bill o' Burnt Bay let go his grip on the wheel. There was but onething to do. Many a skipper had done it before; but never before hadthere been such desperate need of haste. The fire still burnedlustily; and the forecastle was high out of the water.
"If I can't do it," the skipper shouted, "it's the first hand's turnnext."
He had fastened the end of a coil of rope about his waist. Now hestood swaying on the taffrail. By the light of the fire--uncertain anddull--he must act. He leaped a moment after the next wave had slippedunder the stern--when, in the current, he should reach the rocks justafter the wave had broken. The crew waited a long time. Many a glancewas cast forward; it seemed to them all, such headway had the firemade, that the six kegs of powder must explode the very next instant.No sign came from the skipper; and no sight of him could be caught.They paid out the rope--and waited. The rope was for a long time loosein their hands.
"He's landed!" cried Jimmie Grimm.
The rope was hauled taut. Upon the rocks, out of reach of the sea, thefigure of the skipper could be seen.
"One at a time!" Skipper Bill shouted.
And one at a time they went--decently and in order, like trueNewfoundland sailors, Tom Rook, the first hand, the last of all. Whenthey were all ashore, they scrambled like mad up the cliff; and theywere no more than out of danger when the _First Venture_ was blown toatoms. There was a flash, a deafening roar--and darkness; broken onlyby the spluttering splinters of the little craft.
* * * * *
That night, from Heart's Harbour, the folk observed a ship afire,running in towards the Chunks. To the report they sent immediately toSt. John's--there happens fortunately to be a government telegraphstation at Heart's Harbour--they added, later, that she had blown up.But from St. John's the salvage-tug _Hurricane_ was dispatched intothe stormy sea in search of the survivors; and on the second dayfollowing she picked up Skipper Bill o' Burnt Bay and his crew.
Next day they were in St. John's.
"Wisht I'd took your advice about the insurance, sir," broken-heartedBill o' Burnt Bay said to Sir Archibald.
Sir Archibald laughed. "I took it for you," said he.
"What?" Skipper Bill exploded.
"I insured the _First Venture_ on my own responsibility," SirArchibald replied. "You shall build the _Second Venture_ at Ruddy Covenext winter."
Archie Armstrong and Bill o' Burnt Bay, with the lads and men of thelost _First Venture_, went back to Ruddy Cove by rail and themail-boat.