CHAPTER VII
UNTIL THE DAWN
Walker was about to take her to the saloon, whence an inner staircasecommunicated with the principal staterooms, but she knew that the doorleading to the promenade deck had been left unlocked, so she signaled himto lead her the speediest way. Speak she could not. Although there wasa perceptible improvement in the weather, Elsie found the wind evenharder to combat than when she traversed the deck with Courtenay. Thisapparent contradiction arose from the fact that during their earlydealing with the boats the sailors had cut away the greater part of thecanvas shield rigged to protect passengers from adventurous seas.
Nevertheless, all flustered and breathless as she was, she held Walkerback when he would have left her in the shelter of her cabin.
"Do spare me one moment," she pleaded. "When I have put on dry clothing,what am I to do? Where am I to go? I will do anything rather thanremain alone."
Walker jammed himself in the doorway to break the violence of theunceasing deluge of spray.
"Well, missie," he said, "I'm examining the engines, Mistaw Tollemache isfi-wing up the donkey-boiler, an' Doctaw Chwistobal is with Mistaw Boyle.You know whe-aw the captain is, so I weckon yo' best place is the saloon."
"Dr. Christobal said you were making a raft?"
"That's wight. But when the ship got off, we tackled othaw jobs. She isow-ah best waft."
"And--do you think--we have any chance."
"Nevah say 'die,' missie. Owt can happen at sea."
She made a guess at the meaning of "owt."
"May I not look after some of the injured men?"
"That you can't," was Walker's prompt assurance. "You'd bettaw stick tothe saloon. I'll tell the captain yo' the-aw."
"Tell him? Are you returning to the bridge?"
"Telephone!" shouted Walker, as an unusually heavy sea caused him to slamthe door unceremoniously. He bolted it, too. Not if he could help itwould his charge come out on that storm-swept deck unattended.
The electric light glowed brightly in Elsie's cabin, exactly as she hadleft it an hour ago. This was one of the anomalous conditions of thedisaster. It lent a queer sense of Midsummer madness to the night'sdoings. In a few days it would be Christmas, the Christmas of sunshineand flowers known only to that lesser portion of the habitable earthsouth of the line. In Valparaiso the weather was stifling, yet here, notso very far away, it was bitterly cold. And the ship was drivingheadlong to destruction, though electric bells and switches were atcommand in a luxuriously furnished apartment, while the engineer had justspoken of the telephone as a means of conversing with the captain. Awaydown in her feminine heart the girl wondered why Courtenay himself hadnot come to her. Why had he sent Christobal first and Walkersubsequently? Oh, of course he had more urgent matters to attend to,though, in the helpless condition of the ship, it was difficult toappreciate their precise degrees of importance.
Anyhow, he had sent word that she was to change her clothes, and he mustbe obeyed, as Dr. Christobal said. Then she discovered, as a quite newand physically disagreeable fact, that her skirts were soaked up to herknees, while her blouse was almost in the same condition owing to thequantity of spray which had run down inside her thick ulster.
It was an absurd thing to be afraid of after all she had endured, butElsie cried a little when she realized that she had been literally wet tothe skin without knowing it. In truth, she had a momentary dread of afainting fit, and it was not until she untied the veil which held her Tamo' Shanter in its place that she learnt how the knot had come near tosuffocating her.
The prompt relief thus afforded brought an equally absurd desire tolaugh. She yielded to that somewhat, but busied herself in procuringfresh clothing and boots. The outcome of the pleasant feeling of warmthand comfort was such as the girl herself would not have guessed in aweek. The mere grateful touch of the dry garments induced anextraordinary drowsiness. She felt that she must lie down--just for aminute. She stretched herself on the bed, closed her eyes, and wasstraightway sound asleep. At the captain's suggestion, Christobal hadgiven her a strong dose of bromide in the wine!
It was better so. If the ship were dashed to pieces against the rockswhich unquestionably lay ahead, Elsie would be whirled to the lifeeternal before she quite knew what was happening. If, on the other hand,some miracle of the sea enabled the men to construct a seaworthy raft intime, or the rising tide permitted the _Kansas_ to escape, in so far asto run ashore again in a comparatively sheltered position, she would benone the worse for an hour's sleep. And now that the ship was afloat,there were things to be done which only men could do. The saloon, thedecks, the forecabin, were places of the dead. Fearing lest Elsie mightpass, Christobal, before attending to Boyle, had thrown table-cloths overthe bodies of men slain in the saloon, for Gray and Tollemache hadsternly but vainly striven to repress the second revolt. Tollemache andWalker had dragged out of the smothering spray near the port davits threemen who seemed to be merely stunned. These, with the chief officer, andperhaps four survivers of the explosion, made up the list of living butnon-effective members of the ship's company. There was one other,Gulielmo Frascuelo, who was bawling for dear life in his bunk in theforecastle, but in that dark hour no one chanced to remember him, and itneeded more than a human voice to pit itself against the hurricane whichroared over the vessel. The unhappy wretch knew that something out ofthe ordinary had taken place, and he was scared half out of his wits bythe continued absence of the crew. Luckily for himself, he did notappreciate the real predicament of the ship, or he would have ravedhimself into madness.
Walker, in his brief catalogue of occupations, had suppressed one. Tomake sure, Christobal closed a water-tight bulkhead door which cut offthe principal staterooms from the saloon. Then he and his two helperscarried out a painful but necessary task. It was his duty to certifywhether or not life was extinct. There were very few exceptions. Thethree men lifted the bodies and threw them overboard. When they reachedthe corpses of the second officer and a Spanish engineer who had beenknifed in the defense of the jolly-boat--his comrade had scrambled intoone of the life-boats--Tollemache took possession of such money,documents, and valuables as were in their pockets, intending to draw upan inventory when an opportunity presented itself.
Though they knew not the moment when a sickening crash would herald thefinal dissolution of the ship, they proceeded with their workmethodically. In half an hour they had reached the end. All the injuredmen--seven nondescript sailors and firemen--were carried to the saloonand placed under Christobal's care. Walker dived below to theengine-room, where he had already disconnected the rods broken or bent bythe fracture of a guard ring, which, in its turn, was injured by theblowing out of a junk-ring, a stout ring of forged steel secured to oneof the pistons. He could do nothing more on deck. Whether he wasdestined to live fifty seconds or as many years he was ill content tohear his beloved engines knocking themselves to pieces with each roll ofthe ship.
Tollemache, who undertook the firing of the donkey-boiler, which wassituated on the main deck aft of the saloon--for the _Kansas_ was builtchiefly to accommodate cargo--during his wanderings round the world hadpicked up sufficient knowledge of steam-power to shovel fuel into thefurnace and regulate the water-level by the feed valve and pump. Thesmall engine, more reliable and quite as powerful as a hundred men, wasin perfect order. It abounded in valves and taps, but Walker's partinginstructions were explicit:
"Keep yo' eye on the glass, an' pitch in a shovel of coal evewy tenminutes: she'll do the west."
So the new hand, satisfied that the gage was correct and the furnacelively, lit his pipe, sat down, and began to jot in a note-book thecontents of his coat-pockets. The Spaniard's letters he could not read,though he gathered that one of them was from a wife in Vallodolid, whowould travel overland early in January to meet her husband. But theEnglishman's correspondence was terribly explicit. A "heart-brokenmother" wrote from Liverpool that "Jack" had been shot during one
of themany cold-weather campaigns on the Indian frontier. "I have no news,simply a telegram from the War Office. But of what avail to know how mydarling died. My tears are blinding me. You and I alone are left, andyou are thousands of miles away. May the Lord be merciful to me, awidow, and bring you home to comfort me." Yet the knife which killed himmust have gone very near that letter.
Tollemache tried to grip his pipe in his teeth. He failed. It fell onthe iron floor.
"Oh, this is rotten!" he growled. "Why couldn't he have been spared? Noone would have missed me. I don't suppose Jennie would care tuppence."
The _Kansas_ rolled heavily. He waited a few seconds for the expectedshock, but she swung back to an even keel. Then he stooped to pick uphis pipe, and his mouth hardened.
"'Spared!' by gad!" he said. "What rot!" That roll of the ship wascaused by an experimental twist of the wheel. Courtenay, peering intothe darkness through the open window of the chart-house, saw that theweather was clearing. He had evolved a theory, and, for want of abetter, he was determined to pursue it to a finish. The _Kansas_ wasbeing swiftly carried along in a strong and deep tidal current. Happily,the wind followed the set of the sea, else there would be no chance ofsuccess for his daring plan. His expedient was the desperate one ofkeeping the vessel in the line of the current, and, if day broke beforehe reached the coast, he would steer for any opening which presenteditself in the fringe of reefs which must assuredly guard the mainland.
With his hands grasping the taut and, in one sense, irresponsivemechanism of a steering-wheel governed by steam, a sailor can "feel" themovement of his ship, a seaworthy vessel being a living thing, obedientas a docile horse to the least touch of the rein. But, in the unlikelyevent of fortune favoring Courtenay to the extent of giving him anopportunity to see the coming danger, it was essential that the shipshould have a certain radius of action apart from the direction and forceof the ocean stream. The two sails were helpful, and it was to assurehimself of their efficiency that he put the helm to starboard. The_Kansas_ obeyed with an answering roll to port, showing clearly that shewas traveling a little faster than the inrushing tide would take herunaided. He brought her head back to nor'east again, and glanced overhis shoulder at the ship's chronometer. It was a quarter to one. Twohours must pass before he would discern the first faint streaks of light.At any rate, if he were spared to greet the dawn, it would be rightahead, and, as a few seconds might then be of utmost value, that was asmall point in his favor. Yet, two hours! Could he dare to hope for solong a respite? How could the ship escape the unnumbered fangs which astorm-torn land thrust far out into the Pacific for its own protection?
He was quite sheltered from the wind and spray in the chart-house, and,all at once, he became aware of a burning thirst. There was water in adecanter close at hand, so he indulged in a long drink. That waswonderfully vivifying. Then his mind turned longingly to tobacco. Forthe first time in his life he broke the strict rule of the service inwhich he had been trained--and smoked a cigar while on duty.
Now and again he spoke cheerily to the dog. It would be:
"Well, Joey, here we are; still got a bark in us!" . . . Or, "You and Imust have our names on the Admiralty chart, Joey:--'Channel surveyed byCaptain Courtenay and pup; details uncertain.' How does that sound, oldchap?" And again, "I suppose your friend, Miss Maxwell, is asleep bythis time. If she calls you 'Joey,' do you call her 'Elsie'? I ratherfancy Elsie as a name. What do you think?"
To all of which the dog, who had found a dry corner, would respond with asmile and a tail-wag. What? Joey couldn't smile! Make a friend of afox-terrier and learn what a genuine, whole-hearted, delighted-to-see-yougrin he will favor you with: he can smile as unmistakably as he can yawn.
If deeper emotions peeped up in Courtenay's soul, he crushed themresolutely. Men of the sea do not cultivate heroics. They leavesentiment to those imaginative people who evolve eery visions of a stormin the smug comfort of suburban villas. When the _Kansas_ lay on theshoal Courtenay was certain that the ship was lost, or he would neverhave dispatched some of his passengers and crew in the only boatavailable. He acted to the best of his judgment then; he was actingsimilarly now in abandoning the last resource of a raft in order to keepthe vessel on her present course. But, then or now, he paid no heedwhatever to the obvious fact that he and the second engineer, and atleast one of the male passengers, must be the last to quit the ship.That was the code of all true sailor-men--the women first, then the malepassengers and crew followed by the officers, beginning at the junior inrank. There could be room for no hesitancy or dispute--it was just asailor-like way of doing one's duty, in the simple faith that therecording angel would enter up the log.
The long wait in the darkness would have broken many a man's nerve, butCourtenay was not cast in a mold to be either bent or broken by fear.When his cigar was not in his mouth he whistled, he hummed snatches ofsongs, and delivered short lectures to Joey on the absurdity of things ingeneral, and the special ridiculousness of such a mighty combination ofcircumstances centering on one poor ship as had fore-gathered to crushthe _Kansas_. Ever since he was aroused from sleep by the stopping ofthe screw, his mind had dwelt on the unprecedented nature of thebreak-down. Even before he discovered its cause he was wondering whatevil chance bad contrived to cripple the engine at such a moment--in theworst possible place on the map.
"Joey!" he said suddenly, his thoughts reverting to a chance remark madeto him in Valparaiso by Isobel's father, "what did Mr. Baring mean bysaying there was a difficulty about the insurance?"
Joey gave it up, but he cocked his ears and looked towards the door.Christobal entered.
"Boyle will recover," he said, when he had wiped the spray off his face."He had a narrow escape; the knife just grazed the spinal cord. Theshock to the dorsal nerves induced temporary paralysis, and that rathermisled me. He is much better now. Under ordinary conditions he would beable to get about in a few days. As it is, he will probably live as longas any of us."
Christobal waved a hand towards the external void. He was not sailorenough to realize the change in the weather.
"That is good news," said Courtenay.
"I thought you would like to know. How are things up here?"
"Better. The barometer has risen an inch in less than two hours.Possibly, nearness to the land has some effect, but wind and sea aresubsiding."
"You surprise me; yet that is nothing. I have had several surprisesto-night. What is the position? Of course, we must hit the SouthAmerican continent sooner or later; can you fix an approximate time?"
"We are making about six knots, I fancy. If we are lucky, and avoid anystray rocks, we should see daylight before we reach the coast. That isour sole hope. The ship is in a powerful tidal current, and it ishigh-water at 5.30 A.M. At a rough estimate, Hanover Island is twentyknots distant. Now you know all. The outcome is mere guesswork."
"Why did the furnaces blow up?"
"I was cross-examining Joey on that point when you came in. He reservedhis opinion. My own view is that, by accident or design, some explosivesubstance found its way into the coal."
"Shem, Ham and Japheth! Explosive substance! Do you mean dynamite, orgunpowder, or that sort of thing?"
"Something of the kind. That is only a supposition, but when I whisperedit to Walker he agreed."
"Walker! Is he the man who speaks so queerly?"
"If ever you go to Newcastle, don't put it that way. I told him to takeMiss Maxwell to her cabin. Did he do so?"
"Yes. I have not seen her since, so I assume that the bromide, plus thewine, was effective. Well, I must return to my patients. Can I get youanything? I am store-keeper, you know."
"No, thanks."
"Nothing to eat, or drink?"
"Nothing. I shall be ready for a square meal when I am able to comebelow--not before."
Christobal smiled. Though he was a brave man, he thought such persistentoptimism was out of place. Nevert
heless, he could emulate Courtenay'scoolness.
"Let me know when you are ready. I am an excellent cook," he said.
Then the captain of the _Kansas_ resumed his smoking and humming, withoccasional glances at the clock, and the compass, and the barometer. Attwo o'clock he felt the ship slipping from under the wheel. The compassshowed that she was heading a couple of points eastward. He helped her,and telephoned instantly to Walker:
"Go forward and try if you can make out anything. Report to me here."
"Ay, ay, sir," came the reply, and anon Walker appeared.
"It's main thick ahead, sir, but I think we-aw passin' an island toport," said he.
"I thought so. You had better remain here, Walker. We have not long towait now for the dawn, and four eyes are better than two."
Walker imagined that the skipper was ready for a chat.
"Things are in a dweadful mess below, sir. I can't make head or tail ofthe smash."
"Well, that must wait. Don't talk. Keep a sharp lookout."
The engineer could not guess that the captain's pulse was beating atrifle more rapidly with a certain elation. They were undoubtedlypassing White Horse Island. It revealed its presence by deflecting thetremendous sea-river which ferried the _Kansas_ onward at such a rate.In fifteen or twenty minutes Courtenay expected to find indications of amore northerly set of the tide, and he watched the compass intently forthe first sign of this return to the former course. If the ship crossedthe current one way or the other she would certainly be driven ashore onsome outlying spur of the island or detached sunken reef. Hence, he mustactually guess his way, with something of the acquired sense of theblind, because the slight chance of ultimate escape for the ship and heroccupants rested wholly on the assumption that some ocean by-way wasleading her to a deep-water inlet, where it might be possible to drop theanchor.
In eighteen minutes, or thereabouts, the needle moved slightly.Courtenay once more assisted the ship with the helm. She steadiedherself, and the compass pointed due northeast again.
Walker, though an engineer, knew enough of navigation to recognize theapparent impossibility of the captain's being able to steer with any realknowledge of his surroundings. The wheel-twisting, therefore, savored ofmagic; but his orders were to look ahead, and he obeyed.
Soon he thought he could discern an irregular pink crescent, with theconcave side downwards, somewhere in the blackness beyond the bows. Herubbed his eyes, and said nothing, believing that the unaccustomed strainof gazing into the dark had affected his sight. But the pink crescentbrightened and deepened, and speedily it was joined by two others,equally irregular and somewhat lower. Then he could bear the suspense nolonger.
"Captain, d'ye see yon?" he asked, in a voice tremulous with awe.
"Yes. That is the sun just catching the summits of snow-topped hills.It not only foretells the dawn, but is a sign of fine weather. There areno clouds over the land, or we should not see the peaks."
Walker began to have a respect for the captain which he had hithertoextended only to the superintending engineer, an eminent personage whonever goes to sea, but inspects the ship when in port, and draws a fatsalary and various commissions.
Ere long a silver gray light began to dispel the gloom. The two silentwatchers first saw it overhead, and the vast dome of day swiftly widenedover the vexed sea. The aftermath of the storm spread a low, dense cloakof vapor all round. The wind had fallen so greatly that they could hearthe song of the rigging. Soon they could distinguish the outlines of theheavy rollers near at hand, and Courtenay believed that the ship, in herpassage, encountered in the water several narrow bands of a bright redcolor. If this were so, he knew that the phenomenon was caused by theprawn-like Crustacea which sailors call "Whale-food," a sure sign of deepwater close to land, and, further, an indication that the current wasstill flowing strongly, while the force of the sea must have been brokenmany miles to westward.
Suddenly he turned to Walker.
"Do you think you could shin up to the masthead?" he asked.
"I used to be able to climb a bit, sir."
"Well, try the foremast. Up there I am fairly certain you can see overthis bank of mist. Don't get into trouble. Come back if you feel youcan't manage it. If you succeed, take the best observations possible andreport."
Courtenay was becoming anxious now. If he dared let go the wheel hewould have climbed the mast himself. Walker set about his mission in abusiness-like manner. He threw off his thick coat and boots, and wentforward. Half-way up the mast there was a rope ladder for the use of thesailors when adjusting pulleys.
The rest of the journey was not difficult for an athletic man, and Walkerwas quickly an indistinct figure in the fog. He gained the truck allright, and instantly yelled something. Courtenay fancied he said:
"My God! We-ah on the wocks!"
Whatever it was, Walker did not wait, but slid downward with such speedthat it was fortunate the rigging barred his progress.
And then, even while Courtenay was shouting for some explanation, a greatblack wall rose out of the deep on the port bow. It was a pinnacle rock,high as the ship's masts, but only a few feet wide at sea level, and the_Kansas_ sped past this ugly monitor as though it were a buoy in awell-marked channel.
Courtenay heard the sea breaking against it. The ship could not havebeen more than sixty feet distant, a little more than her own beam, andhe fully expected that she would grind against some outlier in the nextinstant. But the _Kansas_ had a charmed life. She ran on unscathed, andseemed to be traveling in smoother water after this escape.
Walker's dark skin was the color of parchment when he reached thechart-house.
"Captain," he said, weakly, "I 'll do owt wi' engines, but I'm no good atthis game. That thing fairly banged me. Did ye see it?"
"Did _you_ see land?" demanded Courtenay, imperatively. His spirits rosewith each of these thrills. He felt that it was ordained that his shipshould live.
"Yes, sir. The-aw 's hills, and big ones, a long way ahead, but I 'm no'goin' up that mast again. It would be suicide. I'm done. I'll nev-ahfo-get yon stone ghost, no, not if I live to be ninety."
Then Joey, sniffing the morning, uncurled himself, stretched, yawnedloudly, and thought of breakfast, for he had passed a rather disturbednight, the second in one week. To cope with such excitement, a dogneeded sustenance.