CHAPTER III
WHEREIN THE CAPTAIN REAPPEARS
The fierce hissing of the continuous escape of steam excited alarm inthose not accustomed to machinery. Men and women share the unreasoningpanic of animals when an unknown force reveals its pent-up fury. Theyforget that safety-valves are provided, that diminished pressure meansless risk; the knowledge that restraint, not freedom, is dangerouscomes ever in the guise of a new discovery.
The mining engineers, of course, did not share this delusion.
"There must be something serious the matter, or they would not bewasting power like that," murmured the American to one of hisfellow-professionals.
"A smash-up in the engine-room. Nada es mas seguro," [1] was theanswer.
"Wonder if any one is hurt?"
The Spaniard bent a little nearer. "What can you expect?" he whisperedsympathetically.
In the unnatural peacefulness of the ship's progress, disturbed only bythe roar of the superheated vapor, they all heard the opening of a doorat the head of the saloon stairway. The third officer appeared--hiswet oilskins gleaming and dripping.
"Dr. Christobal, the captain wishes to speak to you," he said.
Christobal rose and crossed the saloon.
"As you are here, won't you tell the ladies there is nothing to beafraid of in the mere stopping of the engines?" he suggested.
"Oh, the ship is right enough," was the hasty response. "There hasbeen an accident in the stokehold. That is all."
"Want any help?" demanded the American.
"Well--I'll ask the captain."
Evidently anxious to avoid further questioning, he ran up thecompanion. Christobal followed, the door was closed and bolted again.
"I hate the word 'accident.' It covers so many horrid possibilities,"said Isobel.
"I am afraid some poor fellows have been injured, and that is whyCaptain Courtenay sent for Dr. Christobal," said Elsie.
"Oh, of course, I meant that. I was not thinking of the mere delay,though it is annoying that a breakdown should occur here."
"It would be equally bad anywhere else," put in the missionary's wife,timidly.
"By no means," was the sharp response. "If we were in the Straits, forinstance, we could signal to San Isidro or Sandy Point; and there wouldbe other vessels passing. Here, we are in the worst possible place."
Miss Baring's acquaintance with the chief features of the SouthAmerican coast-line had seemingly improved. To all appearance, shealone among the passengers, now that Christobal was gone, realizedvaguely the perilous plight of the _Kansas_. The fact was that even agirl of her apparently frivolous disposition could not avoid theinfluences of environment.
In a maritime community like that of Valparaiso there was every reasonto know and dread the rock-bound coast which fringed the southern pathtowards civilization. Strange, half-forgotten stories of the terrorswhich await a disabled ship caught in a southwesterly gale on thePacific side of Tierra del Fuego rose dimly in her mind. And theadvancing darkness did not tend towards cheerfulness. In her newtrack, the _Kansas_ had turned her back on the murky light whichpenetrated the storm-clouds towards the west. Unhinged by the externalgloom and the prevalent uncertainty, and finding that no one cared todispute with her, Isobel felt that a scream or two would be a relief.For once, pride was helpful--it saved her from hysteria.
The curious sense of waiting, they knew not for what, which dulled thethoughts and stilled the tongues of the small company at the table,soon communicated itself to the stewards. The men stood in littleknots, exchanging few words, and those mostly meaningless; but thechief steward, whose trained ear caught the regular beat of thedonkey-engine, woke them up with a series of sharp orders.
"Switch on the lights," he said loudly. "Clear the table and hurry upwith the coffee. Get a move on those fellows, Gomez. Have you neverbefore been in a ship when the screw stopped?"
The Gomez thus appealed to was the Englishman's second-in-command; heacted as interpreter when anything out of the common was required. Hemuttered a few words in the Hispano-Indian patois which his hearersbest understood, and the scene in the saloon changed with wondroussuddenness. The glow of the electric lamps banished the gatheringshadows. The luxurious comfort of the apartment soon dispelled thenotion of danger. Coffee was brought. The smoking saloon wasinaccessible, owing to the closing of the gangway, but the chiefsteward suggested that the gentlemen might smoke if the ladies wereagreeable. Under such circumstances the ladies always are agreeable,and the instant result was a distinct rise in the social barometer.
The noise of the steam exhaust ceased as abruptly as it began. Theship was riding easily in spite of the heavy sea. Drifting with windand wave is a simple thing for a big vessel. There is no struggle, notearing asunder of resisting forces. Thus might a boat caught in thepitiless current of Niagara glide towards the brink of the cataractwith cunning smoothness.
And then, while the occupants of the saloon were endeavoring topersuade each other that all was well, the loud wail of the sirenthrilled them with increased foreboding. It was not the warning noteof a fog, nor the sharp course-signal for the guidance of a passingship, but a sustained trumpeting, which announced to any steamer hiddenin the darkening waste of waters that the _Kansas_ was not undercontrol. It was a wild, sinister appeal for help, the voice of thedisabled vessel proclaiming her need; and the answer seemed to come ina fiercer shriek of the gale, while the added fury of the blast broughta curling sea over the poop. The _Kansas_ staggered and shook herselfclear. The wave smashed its way onward; several iron stanchionssnapped with reports like pistol-shots, and there was an intolerablerending of woodwork. But, whatever the damage, the powerful hull rosetriumphantly from the clutch of its assailant. Shattered streams ofwater poured off the decks like so many cascades. Loud above thesplash of these miniature cataracts vibrated the tense boom of thefog-horn.
It was a nerve-racking moment. It demanded the leadership of a strongman, and there are few gatherings in Anglo-Saxondom which cannotproduce a Caesar when required.
"Say," shouted the American, his clear voice dominating the turmoil,"that gave us a shower-bath. If we could just stand outside and seeourselves, we should look like an illuminated fountain."
That was the right note--belief in the ship, contempt of the darknessand the gale. The crisis passed.
"There really cannot be a heavy sea," said Elsie, cheerfullyinaccurate. "Otherwise we should be pitching or rolling, perhaps both,whereas we are actually far more steady than when dinner commenced."
"I find these lulls in the storm most trying," complained Isobel."They remind me of some wild animal hunting its prey, creeping up withsilent stealth, and then springing."
"I have never before heard a fog-horn sounded so continuously," saidthe missionary's wife, a Mrs. Somerville. "Don't you think they arewhistling for assistance?"
"Assistance! What sort of assistance can anybody give us here? Unlessthe ship rights herself very soon we don't know what may happen."
Isobel seemed to have a premonition of evil, and she paid no heed tothe effect her words might have on the others. Although the saloon waswarm--almost uncomfortably hot owing to the closing of the mainair-passages--she shivered.
Mr. Somerville drew a book from his pocket. "If that be so," he saidgently, "may I suggest that we seek aid from One who is all-powerful?We are few, and of different religions, but in this hour we can surelyworship at a common altar."
"Right!" said the taciturn Englishman, varying his adjective for once.The missionary offered up a short but heartfelt prayer, and, findingthat he carried his congregation with him, read the opening verse ofHymn No. 370, "For those at Sea."
The stewards, most of whom understood a few words of English, readilygrasped the fact that the _padri_ was asking for help in a situationwhich they well knew to be desperate. They drew near reverently, andeven joined in the simple lines:
O hear us when we cry to Thee For those in peril
on the sea.
During the brief silence which followed the singing of the hymn it did,indeed, seem to their strained senses that the fierce violence of thegale had somewhat abated. It was not so, in reality. A steady fall inthe barometer foretold even worse weather to come. Courtenay, assurednow that the main engines were absolutely useless, thought it advisableto get steering way on the ship by rigging the foresail, double-reefedand trapped. The result was quickly perceptible. The _Kansas_ mightnot be pooped again, but she would travel more rapidly into the unknown.
Yet this only afforded another instance of the way men reason when theyseek to explain cause from effect. The hoisting of that strip of stoutcanvas was one of the time-factors in the story of an eventful night,for it was with gray-faced despair that the captain gave the requisiteorder when the second engineer reported that his senior was dead, thecrown of two furnaces destroyed, and the engines clogged, if notirretrievably damaged, by fallen debris. None realized better than theyoung commander what a disastrous fate awaited his ship in the gloom ofthe flying scud ahead. There was a faint chance of encounteringanother steamship which would respond to his signals. Then he wouldrisk all by laying the _Kansas_ broadside on in the effort to take atow-rope aboard. Meanwhile, it was best to bring her under some sortof control, the steam steering-gear, driven by the uninjureddonkey-engine, being yet available.
In the saloon, Elsie had shielded her face in her hands, to hide thetears which the entreaty of the hymn had brought to her eyes. Some onewhispered to her:
"Won't you sing something, Miss Maxwell?"
It was the American. He judged that the sweet voice whichunconsciously led the singing of the hymn must be skilled in othermusic.
She looked up at him, her eyes shining.
"Sing! Do you think it possible?" she asked.
"Yes. You can do a brave thing, I guess, and that would be brave."
"I will try," she said, and she walked to the piano which was screwedathwart the deck in front of the polished mahogany sheath of the steelmainmast. It was in her mind to play some lively excerpts from thelight operas then in vogue, but the secret influences of the hour werestronger than her studied intent, and, when her fingers touched thekeys, they wandered, almost without volition, into the subtle harmoniesof Gounod's "Ave Maria." She played the air first; then, gainingconfidence, she sang the words, using a Spanish version which hadcaught her fancy. It was good to see the flashing eyes and impassionedgestures of the Chilean stewards when they found that she was singingin their own language. These men, owing to their acquaintance with thesea and knowledge of the coast, were now in a state of panic; theywould have burst the bonds of discipline on the least pretext. So, asit chanced, the voice of the English senorita reached them as themessage of an angel, and the spell she cast over them did not lose itspotency during some hours of dangerous toil. Here, again, was foundone of the comparatively trivial incidents which contributed materiallyto the working out of a strange drama, because anything in the natureof a mutinous orgy breaking out in the first part of thatsoul-destroying night must have instantly converted the ship into ablood-bespattered Inferno.
Excited applause rewarded the song. Fired by example, the dapperFrench Count approached the piano and asked Elsie if she could playBeranger's "Roi d'Yvetot." She repressed a smile at his choice, butthe chance that presented itself of initiating a concert on the spur ofthe moment was too good to be lost, so M. de Poincilit, in a nice lighttenor, told how
Il etait un roi d'Yvetot Peu connu dans l'histoire, Se levant tard, se couchant tot, Dormant fort bien sans gloire.
The Frenchman took the merry monarch seriously, but the lilting melodypleased everybody except "Mr. Wood." The "Oh, Oh's" and "Ah, Ah's" ofthe chorus apparently stirred him to speech. He strolled from a cornerof the saloon to the side of Gray, the American engineer, and said,with a contemptuous nod towards the singer:
"What rot!"
"Not a bit of it. He's all right. Won't _you_ give us a song next?"
If Gray showed the face of a sphinx, so did "Mr. Wood," whose real namewas Tollemache. He bent a little nearer.
"Seen the rockets?" he asked.
"No. Are we signaling?"
"Every minute. Have counted fifteen."
"You don't say. Things are in a pretty bad shape, then?"
"Rotten."
"Well, like Brer Rabbit, we must lie low and say nothing."
This opinion was incontrovertible. Moreover, Tollemache was not onewho needed urging to keep his mouth shut. Indeed, this was by far thelongest conversation he had indulged in since he came aboard; nor washe finished with it.
"Ship will strike soon," he said.
Gray turned on him sharply. "Oh, nonsense!" he exclaimed. "What hasput that absurd notion into your head?"
"Know this coast."
"But we are far out at sea."
"Fifty miles from danger line, two hours ago. Thirty now."
"Are you sure?"
"Certain."
"Do you mean to tell me that in three hours, or less, the ship may be awreck?"
"Will be," said Tollemache. "Have a cigar," and he passed awell-filled case to his companion.
The American was beginning to take the silent one's measure. He bitoff the end of a cigar and lit it.
"What's at the back of your head?" he asked coolly. The other lookedtowards the Chileans.
"Those chaps are rotters," he said.
"You think they will cut up rough? What can they do? We must all sinkor swim together."
"Yes; but there are the women, you know. They must be looked after.You can count on me. Tell the chief steward--and the padri."
Gray felt that here was a man after his own heart, the native-bornAmerican having a rough-and-ready way of classifying nationalities whenthe last test of manhood is applied by a shipwreck, or a fire.
"Got a gun?" he inquired.
"Cabin. Goin' for it first opportunity."
"Same here. But the captain will give us some sort of warning?"
"Perhaps not. Die quick, die happy."
Then Gray smiled, and he could not help saying: "Tell you what, cousin,if you shoot as straight as you talk, these stewards will come to heel,no matter what happens."
"Fair shot," admitted Tollemache, and he stalked off to his stateroom,while the Count was vociferating, for the last time:
Quel bon p'tit roi c'etait la! La, la!
Between Elsie and de Poincilit the chorus made quite a respectable din.Few noticed that the saloon main companion had been opened again, untilthe sharp bark of a dog joining in the hand-clapping turned every eyetowards the stairway. Captain Courtenay was descending. In front ranJoey, who, of course, imagined that the plaudits of the audiencedemanded recognition. Courtenay had removed his oilskins beforeleaving the bridge. His dark blue uniform was flecked with white foam,and a sou'wester was tied under his chin, otherwise his appearance gavelittle sign of the wild tumult without. Joey, on the other hand, was avery wet dog, and inclined to be snappy. When, in obedience to a sterncommand, he ceased barking, he shook himself violently, and sent ashower of spray over the carpet. Then he cocked an eye at the chiefsteward, who represented bones and such-like dainties.
Courtenay, removing his glistening head-gear, advanced a couple ofpaces into the saloon. He seemed to avoid looking at any individual,but took in all present in a comprehensive glance. Elsie, who hadexchanged very few words with him since the first afternoon she came onboard, thought he looked worn and haggard, but his speech soon revealedgood cause for any lack of sprightliness.
"I regret to have to inform you," he said, with the measureddeliberation of a man who has made up his mind exactly what to say,"that the ship has been disabled by some accident, the cause of whichis unknown at present. The unfortunate result is that she is in aposition of some peril."
There was a sudden stir among the Chilean stewards, whose wits weresharpened sufficiently to render the ca
ptain's statement quite clear tothem. Isobel uttered a little sob of terror, and Mrs. Somervillegasped audibly, "Oh, my poor children!" Elsie, her lips parted, satforward on the piano-stool. Her senses seemed to have becomeintensified all at once. She could see everything, hear everything.Some of the Chileans and Spaniards crossed themselves; others swore.Count Edouard breathed hard and muttered "Grand Dieu!" She wonderedwhy the captain and Mr. Tollemache, who had returned from hisstateroom, and was standing in the half light of a doorway, shouldsimultaneously drop their right hands into a coat pocket. Mr.Tollemache, too, gave a queer little nod to the American, who had movednear to Isobel and placed a hand on her shoulder. Elsie was quite surethat Gray whispered: "For goodness' sake, don't cause a scene!" And,indeed, he did ask Isobel and Mrs. Somerville, with some curtness, torestrain themselves.
Courtenay, with one cold glance, chilled into silence the mutteredprayers and curses of the Chileans.
"It may be necessary, about daybreak, to endeavor to beach the ship,"he continued. "I wish you all, therefore, to guard against possibleexposure by wearing warm clothes, especially furs and overcoats. Moneyand jewelry should be secured, but no baggage of any sort, not even thesmallest handbag, can be carried, as all other personal belongings mustbe left on board. Passengers will gather here, and remain here until Isend one of the officers for them. The companion doors will not beclosed again, but the decks are quite impassable. You hear foryourselves that they are momentarily swept by heavy seas."
He turned to the chief steward.
"Your men, Mr. Malcolm," he said, "will begin at once, under yourdirections, to draw stores for each boat. There need be no hurry orexcitement. We are, as yet, many miles distant from the nearest knownland. If the wind changes, or one of several possible things happens,the _Kansas_ will suffer no damage whatever. I wish all hands to beprepared, however, for the chance, the remote chance, I trust, of theship's being driven ashore, and I beg each one of you to remember thatdiscipline and strict obedience to orders are not only more necessarynow than ever, but also that they will be strictly enforced."
The concluding sentence was uttered very slowly and clearly. It wasevident he meant the ship's company to understand him. Before any ofhis hearers attempted to question him, he jammed the sou'wester on hishead and ran up the stairs. The dog followed, somewhat ruefully, thecozy saloon being far more to his liking than the wind-swept,spray-lashed chart-house. Mr. Malcolm promptly stirred his myrmidonswith a command to fall in by boats' crews, and Gomez won his chief'sapproval by quietly translating the captain's orders. Beyond Mrs.Somerville's subdued sobbing there was little outward manifestationthat another crisis in the history of the _Kansas_ and her humanfreight had come and gone.
"The skipper did turn up, you see," said the American, when Tollemachecame to him. The silent man screwed his lips together as if he wouldput a padlock on them.
"From your knowledge of the coast, do you think he will be able tobeach the ship?" went on Gray, some humorous imp prompting him, even inthat tense moment, to draw the expected answer from his new friend andally.
"Yes, in pieces," said Tollemache, and the reply was neither humorousnor expected.
[1] Nothing is more certain.