CHAPTER SEVEN.
Dawn at last appeared, and as the light increased, Owen and hiscompanions on looking out discovered, to their joy, that the water hadgone down considerably, and that other parts of the sand-bank wereappearing above the hissing foam, although the water at intervals stillswept around them. The wind, also, had abated. Their first care was tolook after the boat. She lay broadside to the beach, proving that shehad been in no small danger of being carried off, but happily she hadescaped any serious damage. Small as she was, she would carry their nowdiminished company.
They all agreed that it was important that they should get away with aslittle delay as possible from the sand-bank, and either reach somehigher island or make their way to Batavia. There was a possibilityalso of their being picked up by some passing vessel. Owen, who knewthat the distance to the Straits of Sunda could not be much less than800 miles, and perhaps very much more, earnestly hoped that they mightbe fortunate enough to meet with a vessel.
Although the mate talked of going to Batavia he seemed far lessconfident in his manner than usual; indeed he appeared greatly out ofspirits.
"Do you think, sir, that we could make Batavia?" asked Owen, findinghimself alone with the mate.
"Yes, and we might go twice as far in our boat; but you have got a headon your shoulders, as you have lately shown, and should recollect thatwe cannot make a voyage of five or six days without water, and we may betwice as long as that. Why, those small casks you have will beexhausted before the boat can be got ready."
The mate's spirits rose considerably when Owen in reply told him thatthere were two other casks concealed in the sand. "Oh, then we need notstint ourselves as we have been doing," he answered. "We shall probablyget another shower before long, only I wish that we had some good liquorto mix with it."
"But we may not get a shower, and the small supply we possess can only,with the greatest economy, last us two or three weeks," remarked Owen.
The mate did not reply, but shortly afterwards, going to one of thecasks, took a large draught of water. His thirst seemed insatiable--again and again he applied his mouth to the cask--had it containedspirits he would have done the same, and would speedily have become astipsy as before. Owen was thankful that such was not the case, butregretted having told the mate, who had thus exhibited his utterselfishness, of the two casks concealed in the sand. He resolved atlength to appeal to the men, and to advise them to insist that an equaland limited allowance of water should be served out to each person, ameasure absolutely necessary for the preservation of their lives. BillPratt, to whom he first spoke, agreed to this, as did the rest, and Billundertook to be the spokesman. The mate was overawed, and having drunkas much water as he just then required, sulkily agreed to the proposal.
Happily, in a short time, another large cloud was seen coming up withthe wind, the last, apparently, of the vast mass which had latelyoverhung the sand-bank; the casks were got ready, the cloth stretchedout. Anxiously the shipwrecked seamen gazed at the approaching cloud.The rain was seen falling into the sea. Would it cease before itreached them? On it slowly came. They could hear the precious rain asit reached the ocean. In another instant down it came upon them. Thecasks were filled. With proper economy they would have enough water tolast them for many a day. How to repair the boat was the next question.The tools and nails which Owen and Nat had saved had been left at thecamp, and, too probably, had been washed away. Unless they could findsome more tools in one of the chests thrown up they could scarcely hopeto fit the boat for sea. There were spars and planks enough, but theycould not shape them with their knives alone for the purpose. Theysearched in vain, however, and found only a few nails sticking in someof the planks, but not a tool of any description. Nat had set out tolook along the beach, while the rest of the party were consulting aboutthe boat. He made his way in the direction of the camp.
As the tide had now fallen to its usual level, the intermediate groundwas perfectly dry. He had been absent for some time. The mate directedthe rest of the party to collect all the spars, planks, and cordage theycould find.
"We might live on here for months, lads," said Mr Scoones, "but shouldanother gale spring up somewhat rougher than the last, we may all beswept away; so depend upon it, the sooner we get off this sand-bank thebetter. Where there's a will there's a way; and as we have no othertools we must do the best we can with our knives. It will be a longbusiness, and we must take care not to break them. The first thing wehave to do is to stop the leaks in the boat; we must then form some oarsfrom the spars we have got and the staves of the casks. They won't bevery shapely, but they will serve to move the boat along, and the endsof the ropes will afford us oakum. We have cotton enough to make a suitof sails, although they might not be fit to stand a strong wind. Wehave also spars for masts and yards."
The mate having got over his drunken fit, was now completely himselfagain, and, although he was occasionally surly and overhearing, Owen wasthankful that he had been saved. He was certainly better able to carryout the proposed plans than any one else.
Owen suggested that while they were repairing the boat they should notlose the chance of being seen by any passing vessel. The flagstaff wastherefore again erected near where it had before stood, and the driftwood collected to dry in the sun in order that it might serve to form abeacon-fire at night. The first thing to be done was to caulk the boat.Mr Scoones and the carpenter's mate undertook to do this and to nailsuch planks as had been started, which was no easy matter, as not astone could be found, and they had only the handles of their knives.But patience and perseverance had overcome greater difficulties thantheirs. The carpenter's mate looked grave as he surveyed the boat.
"If it keeps calm she will swim, sir; but if it comes on to blow,heavily loaded as she will be, my idea is that she will swamp to acertainty. Had we the tools, I should have raised her a streak allround and put a bit of a deck on her fore and aft."
"No use to talk about that," said Mr Scoones, with a sigh; "it isbeyond our power."
While they were thus employed Nat's voice was heard in the distance, andhe was seen running from the direction of the old camp. He was holdingaloft what they soon discovered to be a saw.
"Hurrah! I have found this and many things more," he exclaimed, as hedrew near.
On coming up to the party, he explained he had found that the sea hadbarely washed over the higher part of the bank, on which the tent hadstood.
This latter, though knocked over, still remained, with a quantity ofcordage and other heavy articles, besides some provisions. On hearingthis, Mr Scoones took possession of the tools and nails, with which heand the carpenter's mate worked away at the boat, while he despatchedthe rest of the party to bring up the other articles. It was heavy worktoiling over the sand, but Owen, setting the example, the restcheerfully obeyed. It took several days to fit the boat for sea. Thetools were blunt, and no means existed to sharpen them.
Every day at sunrise the flag was hoisted, and every night thebeacon-fire lighted, but the signals were observed by no passing vessel.While Mr Scoones and the carpenter's mate were working at the boat,the rest of the party were engaged in arranging the provisions,repairing two of the water casks which leaked, in picking oakum, or inother work. No one could afford to be idle.
"It would be a fine thing now if we could only pick up a keg ofspirits," said Bill Pratt to Mike, as they were working at the watercasks.
"Do you think so, mate?" observed Mike. "Shure wasn't it the spiritscost all the rest of the poor fellows their lives, and well-nigh yourown? I am thinking that it would be a good thing if there was neveranother dhrop of the crathur brewed in the world. How was it that theship came to be cast away, I should like to know? Look at the matethere; he is steady enough now, but let him get liquor to his lips wedon't know what mad freak he would play. No, no; if we find a keg, thebest thing we can do will be to knock in the head at once, before anyone is tempted to touch it."
Fort
unately no keg of spirits was found, for the force of the gale haddashed everything which came out of the wreck to pieces, and had not theshipwrecked party secured a sufficient supply of provisions at first,they would have run great chance of starving. The hull of the boat wasnow complete. The flagstaff had to be taken down to be cut up intomasts, spars, and oars. Mr Scoones, partly with the canvas which hadserved for a tent, and partly with cotton cloth, had fitted a suit ofsails.
At length all was ready; the boat was launched, and appeared to betolerably seaworthy. Her cargo was piled up on the beach. The men hadto wade up to their middles to carry it on board. When everything wasin her she was somewhat heavily laden, but with the prospect of a longvoyage before them they were unwilling to leave either water orprovisions behind.
All climbed on board. The sand-bag which served as her anchor washauled up, the oars got out, and they pulled away to the northward,clear of the reefs. The sails were then hoisted. They consisted ofthree lugs and a foresail, for, from the light materials of which theywere formed, it was considered more prudent to have several small sailsthan two large ones. The wind blew from the northward, and was thusabeam, and her course was about E.N.E.
The wind soon increased, and it became necessary to close reef all thesails, while the quick motion of the boat, as she danced lightly overthe seas, made every one, with the exception of Mr Scoones and Owen,very ill. The mate abused them for giving way.
"Shure it's not for pleasure, sir," exclaimed Mike. "As soon as the seachooses to be quiet, we will be quiet too."
His remark produced a laugh, even among those who appeared the worst.In a short time they got better. The night as it approached threatenedto be stormy, and some of the party expressed a wish that they were safeback again on the sand-bank.
"Suppose such another gale as we had before were to drive the water overit, where should we be?" asked Mr Scoones. "Depend upon it we arebetter off in a tight boat, with twice as much sea as we have runninghere."
Owen thought the mate was right. He did his best to keep up the spiritsof his companions. The wind increasing, the sea got up more and more.It was necessary to keep the boat's head close to the wind, sometimesindeed to put the helm hard down so that she might ride over the seas,which otherwise would have broken on board and swamped her. As it was,in spite of the additional streak, the water constantly fell on board,and two hands were kept continually baling it out. The leastcarelessness in steering would inevitably have caused the destruction ofthe boat. It seemed surprising, small as she was, that she could live.All night long the wind continued to blow as hard as ever, and noprogress was made. There was a fear, indeed, that they might drive backon the sand-bank. When morning broke Owen looked out anxiously to thesouthward, expecting to see it under their lee. He was, however,thankful to find, as the light increased, that they were out of sight ofthe dreaded bank.
For two days the same weather continued. Some of the people began tolose heart.
Owen did his best to cheer them up. "Depend upon it we shall have clearskies and a smooth sea before long; we shall then run along famously,and make up for lost time," he observed.
Mr Scoones kept up his character as a good seaman. For hours togetherhe sat at the helm, and only gave it up to Bill Pratt, who was the nextbest hand to him. At last, as Owen had predicted, the wind fell, andthe sea went down. Once more the boat was put on her course to theeastward. During the day they steered by the sun, and at night by thestars, which shone forth with great brilliancy. Although Owen had oftengazed before at the Southern Cross and the other beautifulconstellations of that hemisphere, he now watched them with greaterinterest than ever. With the fine weather the spirits of the partyrose. Owen proposed that each man should recount his adventures, tell astory, or sing a song. His proposal was adopted; it served to beguilethe time, and prevented the men from thinking of the dangers which mightbe in store for them. Mr Scoones did not interfere. He sat silent andgloomy, as usual. He might possibly have reflected that it was throughhis own obstinacy that the ship had been cast away, and the lives of somany of her crew sacrificed. Fishing lines were also constantly keptout, and several fish were caught. The only means of cooking them wason a fire of chips on the lid of the fish-kettle. They proved avaluable addition to their fare, and assisted, with the dried fruitwhich had been saved, in warding off scurvy. The wind was, however,very light, and but slow progress was made. At length it becameperfectly calm.
Mr Scoones immediately ordered the men to get out the oars. Owen setthe example, and Nat and Mike obeyed, but the others grumbled, assertingthat the advantage to be gained was so slight that it was not worthwhile to exert themselves.
Mr Scoones became very angry, and standing up with the tiller in hishand, declared that he would knock the first man overboard who refusedto obey his orders.
"You'd better not try it," answered the carpenter's mate, apowerful-looking man, seizing the hammer which lay near him. "Havingthree or four hundred miles to sail, as I understand, we can do littlegood in tiring ourselves out by pulling along at the rate of two knotsan hour in this blazing sun. Let those boys and the Irishman put intheir oars. They will only kill themselves if they keep at it."
Mr Scoones saw by this how slight was his authority over the men, andwisely gave up the attempt. After a time the calm became more difficultto endure than had been the gale. Owen and his two friends had theirheads protected by the turbans which they had at first manufactured, butthe others had taken no similar precautions. The straw hats they wore,which had been washed ashore, afforded but a slight resistance againstthe penetrating rays of the sun. Night brought them all some relief.
Then all hands, excepting one who remained on the watch, lay down tosleep. When it was Owen's watch he saw the mate several times get upand look about him as if his slumbers were light and troubled. Forupwards of four days the calm continued. Provisions were served outregularly, but Mr Scoones, believing that they would reach Batavia inten days or so, had not put the people on an allowance of water; theconsequence was that they drank away at the water casks without stint,as they had done at the spirit kegs. One of the casks was soon emptied.Without telling Mr Scoones, they began upon a second. Even Owen wasnot aware how rapidly the water was being exhausted, until Nat told himthat he was afraid they were half-way through the second cask. Owen atonce informed Mr Scoones, who on this occasion had good cause for hisanger.
"If you wish to live, you fellows must consent to be put on shortallowance. We have not made good more than thirty miles of the distancewe have to run, and for what we know, we may chance to meet withcontrary winds and more calms, and if so, we shall soon all die ofthirst. Being without water is, as you will find, worse than beingwithout food."
These remarks brought the men to reason. The remainder of the kegs,including those which had been washed up upon the island, were thereforebrought and kept aft by Mr Scoones, who served out half a cupful at atime twice a day to each man.
Owen, as before, tried to animate his companions.
"Here comes a breeze," he exclaimed, as a light blue ripple was seenadvancing over the mirror-like surface of the ocean. The sails weretrimmed, and the boat once more glided on at the rate of three or fourknots an hour. Even should the breeze continue, however it would takethem many days to reach Batavia. The wind lasted but a few hours, whenthey were again becalmed. Thus they lay, making no progress for anothertwo days. Once more a breeze sprung up, but it was directly in theirteeth. The boat was hauled on the wind and stood to the northward.
"We may have a long beat of it, but it cannot be helped," said MrScoones to Owen.
It was trying work; now they tacked to the south-east, now to thenorth-east. The imperfect observations they were able to take showedthem, however, that they had gained some ground Owen cheered the men byreminding them that they were in the course of homeward and outwardbound vessels, and that they might hope to fall in with one or theother.
Still
day by day went by, and they were yet a long way from land. Oncemore the weather changed, and the wind shifted to the northward.
Night came on; Mr Scoones, unwilling to lose advantage of the breeze,continued to carry all sail, and it was evidently as much as the boatcould bear. During the darkness a squall struck her. Before the sheetscould be let go, the whole of the lighter canvas was blown away. Hadnot this happened, the boat would have been upset. She had now but herfore lug and foresail, so that she could no longer keep close to thewind without an after oar kept constantly going. The night, however,passed away without any farther accident. It was not until noon, whenthe weather moderated, that all hands turned to and tried to repair thetattered sails. This operation was almost beyond their power. Theymanaged, however, to patch up a mizen, which enabled the boat once moreto stand on her proper course.
Several days passed by; no land appeared in sight. Their provisionswere almost exhausted. They had been on short allowance for some time;but a few pints of water remained in their last cask. Again the boatlay becalmed. The three men who had escaped with the mate from thecamp--their strength previously weakened by drinking--had given in andlay at the bottom of the boat, or leaned against the side, unable toexert themselves.
Mr Scoones, strong and hardy as he had been, was utterly exhausted.Owen, Nat, and Mike, though feeling weak, were by far the most active ofthe crew.
Another day passed by; the carpenter's mate was the first to die, theother two quickly followed. Owen had endeavoured to restore them bymoistening their parched lips with water; but it was of no avail. Hefelt himself imbued with a strength which surprised him. The deadbodies were lifted over board. No funeral ceremony was possible.
Owen then went aft to attend to the first mate, who lay in the sternsheets unable to move. Owen brought him some water; he drank iteagerly, and opened his eyes.
"Is there much more?" he asked.
"Very little, sir; but we will take only what will keep us alive, youcan have the rest."
Owen, faithful to his promise, continued to give the apparently dyingman a few thimblefuls at a time.
"Were a breeze to spring up we might yet be saved," said the mate. "Doyou see any signs of one?"
"Not as yet, sir," answered Owen, after he had looked round the horizon;"but cheer up, sir, God may still think fit to preserve us, although wedo not see how it is to be. I'll get you a little more water."
All day long Owen continued, as at first, to attend on the mate. Mikeand Nat sat still, their spirits were too low to talk; but they wereperfectly satisfied that the mate should have the water, though theirown share was thus much diminished. They all ate sparingly of theprovisions which remained. Fortunately among them was some of the driedfruit, which assisted to assuage their thirst. The mate did not appearto grow worse, and Owen hoped that during the cool hours of the night hemight revive. The sun went down in a cloudless sky, and the stars shoneout brightly above their heads. Still no breeze came. The first mateoccasionally spoke and inquired how the weather looked, but Owen couldonly give the answer as before. Morning was approaching.
"If we do not make the land, Hartley," said Mr Scoones, "or do not getpicked up to-day, I shall not see another sun set."
"I hope you will hold out, sir," answered Owen; "we have still a littlewater, and our provisions are not quite exhausted. I trust you will notget worse."
He said this, though scarcely a couple of pints of water remained, whilethe provisions he spoke of consisted of a small piece of dry salt beefand half a dozen figs. Owen, feeling that he could hold out some timelonger, was anxious to give the mate as large a share as possible, forhe evidently required it more than any one.
Owen spoke to Nat and Mike, and they agreed that he should have a doubleallowance. The night air had revived him considerably. Owen gave him afew drops of water, after which he managed to chew some beef and eat afig. Owen then gave him a further allowance of the precious fluid. Heasked for more. "You shall have it, sir, but we are running veryshort," said Owen.
"How many gallons have you?" asked the mate.
"Gallons, sir! we have not more than a pint."
"Good heavens! a pint only, and that among four people, with such a sunas we shall have scorching down upon our heads before long," exclaimedthe mate. "I feel my inside burning already."
"I would give you another draught, but you will want it more by-and-bythan you do now, sir," said Owen. "Perhaps when the sun rises we mayget a breeze and make the run you expect."
Although the mate kept crying out for more water, Owen was firm. Thesun rose on a sky undimmed by a single cloud. The sea shone like asheet of burnished gold, not a ripple played over it, excepting when,here and there, a fish rose to the surface, or leapt out of the water,sending far around a circle of tiny wavelets. Occasionally, too, asea-fowl winged its flight through the blue ether, and ever and anonwould plunge down to seize its prey from the ocean. The appearance ofbirds showed that land could not be far off, but not the faintestoutline could as yet be discovered. The mate, dragging himself up tothe side of the boat, gazed round with aching eyes, then sank down witha groan to his former position. Owen felt himself growing weaker andweaker. Poor Nat and Mike could scarcely raise their voices above awhisper.
"Water! water!" groaned the mate; "give me some if you would save mylife."
The other two pointed to their lips, and gazed eagerly at the casks.Owen dragged himself towards them. He could have drunk the whole of thewater himself, and yet not have been satisfied. He poured out a smallquantity and took it to the mate.
"Sip it slowly, sir," he said, "we have very little more remaining."
To his dismay, as he again went to pour some in the cup, he found therewas scarcely sufficient left to fill it. He took what he believed to behis own share, and then carried the remainder to Nat and Mike. He putit to the lips of the first, who seized it with both his hands, andwould have drained it to the bottom.
"Let go," cried Owen, "this is Mike's share as well as yours." Withsome difficulty he rescued it, and handed the cup to the Irishman, whoswallowed it eagerly. Owen had not the heart to tell them there was nomore. Before long they again cried out for water. Owen made no reply.
"Water! water!" groaned the mate. Owen shook his head. He had scarcelystrength enough to crawl back and show that it was exhausted. The mateat last understood him.
"Is there none in any of the other casks?" he asked.
Owen knew that they had been emptied to the last drop. He crawled towhere they were stowed, and tried one after the other. They wereperfectly dry. Without water to moisten their lips, no one would beable to masticate the last remnants of food.
"I knew it would be so," groaned the mate. "Any sign of a breeze?"
"None that I can perceive, sir," answered Owen. He dragged himself upby the mast so as to obtain a wider range of observation. Unable tostand long he soon sat down again. After a lapse of some time the mateagain asked in a faint voice, "Any sign of a breeze?"
Owen once more looked out. He was about to sink down on the thwart,when his eye fell on a white spot in the horizon. He gazed at itwithout speaking; it might be only a sea-bird's wing. Again and againhe looked with straining eyes.
"A sail! a sail!" he exclaimed. His voice sounded hollow and strange;he fancied some one else was speaking.
"Are you mocking us?" asked the mate.
"No, sir, I am certain it is a sail," answered Owen.
His voice aroused Nat and Mike, who turned round and looked over theside. The mate, who just before appeared to have entirely lost hisstrength, dragged himself up and took Owen's place at the mast.
With what sounded like an hysterical laugh, "Yes," he cried out, "asail! no doubt about it; she is bringing up a breeze, and standing thisway. We are saved! we are saved!"
He kept his post, grasping the mast tightly, and watching theapproaching sail. Owen returned to his seat, from whence he could wellobserve the stran
ger. A long time must pass before she could be up tothem, and before then she might alter her course. They wore but a speckon the water, and might be passed unperceived. Still the mate kept hispost, waving his hand and trying to shout out, as if at that distance hecould be either seen or heard. By his behaviour Owen thought he musthave lost his senses. Nat and Mike every now and then uttered strangeexclamations, showing that they were much in the same condition. Thestranger's royals had first been seen, then her topgallant sails, andnow the heads of her topsails appeared above the horizon. She wasevidently a large ship, and, as her courses came in sight, the matepronounced that she was a man-of-war, a frigate, or perhaps aline-of-battle ship. She stood steadily on, as if steering for theboat, which, however, could scarcely yet have been discovered. As theexpectation of being saved grew stronger, Owen felt his energies--whichhe had hitherto by great effort maintained, when the lives of hiscompanions seemed to depend on his retaining his senses--giving way.
He saw the hull of the ship rise above the water, he could count herguns, he knew that she was a frigate; he was certain that the boat wasdiscovered, and then he lost all consciousness.