XVII
ADRIFT!
Car-conducting may be a work of niceness and despatch, but it is illtraining for working on the spars of a rolling ship. John Cutler wasmousing clew-blocks on the main-yardarm, the ship lurched heavily, thefoot-ropes were wet and slippery, and John, ill-balanced and unready,was cast into the sea. Instant, there was the cry "Man overboard"; theOld Man ordered the helm down, and, springing to the rack, threw alifebuoy from the starboard quarter; the Second Mate, not seeing himthrow it, threw another from the port.
We were below at the time, just after dinner, about to turn in, when weheard the call. All hands ran on deck. The watch were swinging thehead yards; some were unlashing the lee boat. We joined them, tore thecover off, hooked the tackles, and swung her out. There was confusion;the Old Man and the Mate shouting cross orders, the boat swingingwildly on the tackles, men crowding about the rail.
"Another hand in the boat," yelled the Second Mate, as he sprang intothe stern-sheets, "lower away, you!"
There was a whirr of block sheaves, the falls smoking on the pins, asplash, a rush of water on the rusty side. "Bow off, there! Bow off,you!" and I found myself in the bow of the boat, tugging frantically atthe heft of a long oar.
There was that in the steady _clack--clack-a_ of oar on rowlock tosoothe the tremors of our moment of excited haste. Astern was thebarque, her mainyards aback, rolling heavily athwart the swell; we wereleaving her slowly, for, though the breeze was light, we had to climbthe long steep slopes of a Cape Horn swell. Old Martin's broad backwas bent to the oar in front of me, Houston beyond, and the bo'sun atthe stroke. The Second Mate was standing up at the tiller, listeningfor a hail, gazing anxiously ahead for gleam of a painted life-buoy._Clack--clack-a, clack--clack-a_; the bo'sun was setting us a feverishstroke; it couldn't last. _Clack--clack-a, clack--clack-a_; we werealready breathing heavily. Up and down the heaving swell we went;crawling laboured to the crown--the shudder, and the quick, sickeningdescent! _Clack--clack-a_! Would it ever end? Now I was pulling outof stroke--a feeble paddle. My neck! I had the pain there! ... "Bow,there! Lay in, an' keep yer eyes about. He must be here somewhere!"
I laid in my oar, and faced about. We could not see far, the swell wastoo great. When the boat rose we had a hasty glimpse of the face ofthe water, but in the hollow, the great glassy walls rose ahead andastern. We thought we had overrun the distance, and lay-to for a time.Then on again, shouting as we went. The Second Mate saw something onthe crest of a roller, just a glimpse, and we pulled to it. It wasCutler's round cap; we had steered a good course. Near by we found himwith his arm twisted round the grab rope of the lifebuoy. He was dazedand quiet when we dragged him over the stern.
"Oh, Chris'! Oh, Chris'!" was all he said.
We were about to return when Mr. M'Kellar thought of the secondlifebuoy.
"Bow, there! D'ye see the other buoy; it'll be somewhere t' th'norrard!"
I stood up, unsteadily. There was something white in the hollow of afarther roller. We edged over; it was but a fleck of foam. Fartherover, up and down the swell we climbed until we found it. We turned torow back. "Back starboard! Pull port, you!" the boat's head swunground, and we rose quickly on the following swell.
There was a startled cry from the stern-sheets, "_O Dhia! O Dhia!_"
Well might M'Kellar cry out, for, unobserved of any, the mist hadclosed in on us. There was no ship in sight, no point to steerfor--nothing to guide; there was only the great glassy walls rising andfalling, moving up into the thickening mist.
A panic seized us; furiously we rowed, driving the boat into it with nothought of course or distance. She was awash underfoot before weexhausted ourselves, and lay, breathing heavily, over the oars.
The bo'sun was the first to regain a state of sanity. "Vast rowin',"he cried; "vast rowin'! We cawn't do no good like this. Liy 'er to,Mister! Liy-to; it's the ownly thing!"
M'Kellar put the tiller over, and we brought her head to swell again.
We stood up, all eyes a-watching; we shouted together, listened intent;there was no friendly sail looming in the mist, no answer to our cries.We rowed aimlessly. Sometimes we fancied we could hear a hail or acreak of blocks. We would lash blindly at the oars till the foam flew,then lie-to again. There was no compass in the boat, no food; only asmall barreca of water. Sometimes it is thick weather off the Horn fordays! If the mist held?
Cutler, crouching, shivering in the stern-sheets, began to cry like achild. Cold, wet, unnerved, he was feeling it worst of us all. "Shutup," said the Second Mate, dragging off his jacket and throwing it overthe shivering lad. Old Martin was strangely quiet; he, too, wasshivering. He had been just about to turn in when he heard the call,and was ill-clad for boat service. Only once did he show a bit of hisold gallant truculence. "All right, Mister! If we loses track o' th'ship, we've got plenty o' prewisions! We can eat them lifebuoys, wotye was so keen a-gettin'!"
"Oh, quit yer chinnin', ye old croak! 'Oo's talkin' abaht losin' tracko' th' ship!" The bo'sun didn't like to think! Cutler becamelight-headed, and began to talk wildly; he would stand up, pointing andshouting out, "There she is, there!" Then he began to make queernoises, and became very quiet. There was the canvas boat cover lyingin the bottom of the boat. The bo'sun put this round him, and I wasordered aft to rub him down.
The cold became intense. When the heat of our mad spurt had passed,depression came on us and we cowered, chilled to the marrow by themist, on the gratings of the heaving boat. Long we lay thus, Houstonand the bo'sun pulling a listless stroke to keep her head to the swell.We had no count of time. Hours must have passed, we thought.
"The Dago 'll hae ma trick at th' wheel, noo," said Houston strangely."It wis ma turn at fower bells!"
No one heeded him.
"They'll hae tae shift some o' th' hauns i' th' watches, eh? ... wi'you, an' Martin, an' th' young fla' no' there!" he continued.
"Oh, shut up, damn ye! Shut up, an' listen. _O Dhia!_ can ye hearnocht?" M'Kellar, standing up on the stern-sheets, was casting wildglances into the pall that enshrouded us. "Here! All together, men--ashout!"
A weakly chorus went out over the water.
Silence.
Suddenly Houston stood up. "Maister, did ye hear that--a cheep!" Wethought that he was going off like Cutler; we could hear nothing. "Acheep, Ah telt ye, Maister; a cheep, as shair's daith!" Houston waspositive. "The jerk o' a rudder, or" ... Almost on top of us there wasa flash of blinding fire, the roar of a gun followed!
We sprang to the oars, shouting madly--shaping out of the mist was theloom of a square sail, there was sound of a bell struck. No need nowto talk of eating lifebuoys; Houston would be in time for his trick atthe wheel!
* * * * *
"What th' blazes kept ye, Mister? We saw ye pickin' th' man up! Whatmade ye turn t' th' norrard?" The Old Man had a note of anger in hisvoice.
"Well, Sir, we couldn't see th' other buoy, an' I thought it a peety ifwe didn't pick it up; an' while we were lookin' for it, we lost tracko' th' ship," said Mister M'Kellar, ashamed and miserable.
The Mate broke in, "Ye damn fool! D'ye mean t' tell us ye risked awhole boat's crew for a tuppence-ha'penny lifebuoy? B'gad, it wouldserve ye right if ye had t' go seekin' like th' Flying Dutchman!" TheMate continued to curse such stupidity, but the Old Man, thoughpermitting the Mate to rail, was wonderfully silent. After all,M'Kellar, like himself, was a Scotchman, and much may be forgiven to aScotchman--looking after his owners' property!