CHAPTER V
A MIDNIGHT WRECK
"Well, now, I'm real glad I brought you girls with me," said CaptainBarton, as they sat on deck one evening. "Many's the time I've felt abit lonesome at night between sunset and turning in, but you do help topass the time away."
"Pastimes, are we?" said Tommy, with affected indignation. "Toys!Dolls! I won't be called a doll."
"Very well, my dear, you shan't," replied her uncle, slipping one armround her waist, and the other round Mary's. Elizabeth sat on herdeck-chair opposite them, knitting the second of a pair of socks."But, now," continued the Captain, "you'd better be turning in. 'Tislatish, and sleep, you know, 'it is a precious thing, beloved from poleto pole'; and if you don't get your full eight hours you'll be neitheruseful nor ornamental, Miss Tommy."
"Oh, Uncle! It's such a lovely night," pleaded Tommy, leaning back onhis arm, and looking up into the brilliant sky--a sky such as is seenin the South Pacific, and nowhere else in the world.
Here a heavy figure approached the group from forward.
"Glass is dropping fast, sir," said Mr. Purvis.
Elizabeth's needles ceased clicking.
"That means a storm, doesn't it, Uncle?" she said.
"A bit of a blow, maybe," said the Captain. "Now, girls, off with you.I'll just make things snug. You go below, and sleep through it, andyou'll come up fresh as paint in the morning."
Tommy grumbled a little, declaring that a storm was impossible withsuch a clear sky and no wind; but she went below with her sisters, andsoon all three were fast asleep in their snug little cabin.
It was perhaps two hours later when Elizabeth awoke suddenly. Therewere strange noises overhead, and the ship was rolling and pitchingwith a violence new to her. Every now and then she heard a hoarseshout, and a scurry of feet on deck. The little appointments of thecabin rattled, and presently, as the vessel gave a particularly heavylurch, the glass water-bottle slipped from its rack, and fell with acrash to the floor.
"What is it?" cried Tommy, sitting straight up in her bunk.
"The sea is rather rough," said Elizabeth quietly, "and has sent thewater-bottle spinning."
"It woke me with a start," said Tommy. "My heart is thumping likeanything. Is there any danger?"
"Not with Uncle on board," said Mary from the bunk below. "Let's go tosleep again."
They lay down, but to sleep was impossible. Every moment the movementsof the vessel became more violent, and they heard great booming noisesas the waves broke over the deck. The roar and shriek of the wind wasmingled with the creaking of blocks and the shouts of men.
"I can't stand it any longer," said Tommy suddenly. "I'm going up tosee. Come along, girls." She sprang out of her bunk and had to clutchthe side to prevent herself from being thrown down. The other girlsfollowed her, and she laughed as they staggered and clasped each other.
"What fun!" she said. "We haven't had a real storm before. See who'llbe dressed first. You two needn't do up your hair."
Dressing was a difficult matter; but, helping one another, they managedto get their things on at last and, holding hands, staggered out of thecabin to the companionway between it and the saloon. Tommy was thefirst to climb the ladder, but when she came to the top she gave a cryof dismay.
"The hatch is on!" she called. "Uncle has battened us down, mean oldthing!"
She beat on the hatch with her fist, and called shrilly for her uncle;but the sounds were smothered by the greater noises above, and by andby she desisted, and tottered disconsolately down the steps. "Let's gointo the saloon," she said. "There's more room there than in thecabin. You don't think there's any danger?" she added, as the light ofthe swinging lamp fell on Elizabeth's pale face.
"I don't know; I hope not," replied Elizabeth.
"It's a shame to batten us down," said Tommy indignantly. "I'd ratherbe on deck and know the worst."
The three girls went into the saloon, and sat huddled together on asofa, which was fixed firmly to the wall. They found that only bykeeping a tight grip on the sofa, and each other, could they savethemselves from being dashed across the room. Moment by moment thestorm increased in fury. Now and again there was a tremendous shock,under which the _Elizabeth_ quivered in every plank, and sometimes asharp report as of woodwork wrenched away.
The girls were now thoroughly scared. Pressed close together theyshivered as they heard these ominous noises. None of them spoke, butTommy gave a little gasp whenever a more than usually heavy sea struckthe vessel, and Mary gulped down a lump that would keep rising in herthroat.
Hours passed. Presently the movements of the vessel became lessviolent, and at last Tommy gave a cry of delight as she heard thebattens being struck away from the hatch, and her uncle's voice as hedescended the ladder.
"Ah! There you are, my dears," he said cheerily, as he entered thesaloon. "I guessed these little tantrums would have wakened you."
"Is the storm over, Uncle?" asked Elizabeth.
"Pretty near. He's giving a last kick or two. We're very tired andhungry on deck, and you girls can make us some coffee; I know you'dlike to make yourselves useful. Cook can't be spared at this minute orI wouldn't ask you."
"Of course we will," said Tommy, springing up.
"Is there much damage done, Uncle?" asked Mary.
"Damage! Why, bless you, you can't fight without getting a bruise ortwo, even if you win. The craft's had a bit of knocking about, I won'tdeny, but what could you expect? Now make the coffee, there's goodlassies, and knock at the hatch when it's ready."
"You are not going to batten us down again?" cried Tommy.
"Well, you see, we don't want everything slopped about below, do we?The coffee wouldn't be worth drinking if a sea washed into it just asyou were bringing it up. Make it strong, mind, and plenty of sugar."
Captain Barton left them. He had not thought it necessary to say thatthe cook, who couldn't be spared to make the coffee, was working hardat the pumps. Nor that the vessel had lost its foremast, which in itsfall had carried away the boats on the leeward side. While the shipwas staggering under this blow a heavy sea had struck her and stove inthe boats on the weather side. Nor did the Captain mention that thestorm had driven him many leagues out of his course, and that he wasdesperately anxious lest he should have come within the region of thecoral reefs. Until daybreak he had no means of ascertaining hiswhereabouts, and he concealed from his nieces the anxiety with which heawaited the dawn.
He had paid his brief visit below merely to reassure the girls. Theyat once set about making the coffee--no easy task, for though the windhad abated there was still a heavy sea. At last it was ready, andTommy mounted the companion-way, carrying a canful. It was some timebefore her hammering on the hatch attracted attention, and when it waslifted the can was taken from her by her uncle, who said "Thank'ee, mylass. Now go down again and have some breakfast; it will be light inan hour or two."
"Can't we come up, Uncle?"
"Not yet, my dear; we must tidy up first, you know."
"Can't we help?" persisted Tommy.
But there was no answer. Captain Barton had clapped on the hatch.
"Poor little lassies!" he said to himself.
The girls drank some coffee, and ate some biscuits, waiting impatientlyfor their release. It was no longer difficult to keep their seats; thehowling of the wind had ceased, and the noise above graduallydiminished, and the vessel steadied. But now they were conscious of asound that they had not heard before. It was like the clanking of asteam-engine.
"I wonder what it is!" cried Tommy, springing up. "Oh, I do so wishUncle would let us go up. There's no danger now, surely."
But the Captain still remained above. The clanking sound continued,and slight noises were heard occasionally. The weather became stillcalmer, and the girls, when they had finished their simple breakfast,began to doze. Never since they left Southampton had their sleep beenbroken, and they would have returned to their bunks
had it not been sonear morning. So they cuddled up together on the sofa, Elizabeth inthe middle and the other girls with their arms about her.
All at once there was a sudden jolt that set the tin cups flying fromthe table, and made the girls spring up in alarm. They were aware of astrange, rasping, scraping sound. Clutching one another, theirstartled faces asked a mute question, to which, inexperienced as theywere, their instinct supplied a clear answer. The ship had struck.
There were loud shouts from above, a renewal of the scurrying on deck,then silence. A minute or two after the girls heard the hatch removed,and their uncle hurried down. Even in the dim light of the smoky oillamp they saw how pale and haggard he looked. They were too muchfrightened to speak.
"Girls," he said quietly, "put on your macintoshes and anything warmyou have, and come on deck at once. Don't wait for anything else."
He was gone. The very calmness of his tone, the absence of his wontedjocularity, struck them with a chill feeling of dread. Silently, withpale faces, the girls fetched wraps and macintoshes from their cabinand hurriedly mounted the companion. When they reached the wet andslippery deck a terrible spectacle lay before them in the light of thecrescent moon, shining fitfully out through the scudding clouds. Theforemast had snapped off at the height of a man. The deck was strewnwith broken spars and a litter of torn sails and shattered rigging. Onthe lee side the davits were twisted and bent, and the boats haddisappeared. On the weather side, the boats still swung on the ropes,but were so battered that it was impossible to hope that they wereseaworthy. Three or four men were loosing the lashings that securedthe little dinghy, others were bringing up provisions from the cook'sgalley. The monotonous _clank, clank_ of the pumps told how the restwere engaged.
Close to the dinghy stood little Dan Whiddon, the cabin-boy, shiveringwith cold and fear.
"Show a leg, now!" cried the Captain to the men who were busy with thedinghy. He turned to the girls, who stood near the companion, huddledin speechless terror. "You must get into the dinghy, my dears," hesaid gravely; "we have struck a reef. You can scull her, keep hergoing gently and look out for a passing ship. Don't be alarmed. Thesea is smooth, you see. We will make a raft and come after you as soonas we can. My poor old ship is done for."
"Oh! we can't leave you, Uncle," said Elizabeth, with quivering lips.
"No, we won't," cried Tommy, springing forward and clasping his arm.
"Now, my dears," replied the Captain with forced cheerfulness, "youpromised to obey orders, you know. We can't save the ship. Water ispouring into her; the one chance is to get you safely afloat while wemake a raft. You must go for my sake. There must be land hereabouts;you'll see it when the sun gets up, and I lay you won't be ashore anhour before we join you. Come along now, all's ready."
The Captain's firmness showed that further remonstrance was vain. Heled them to the side where the dinghy had been lowered. Elizabeth washelped into it, and as she turned away, after embracing her uncle, sheheard the first mate say--
"D'ye think there's room for young Dan, sir? He's no use to us."
The Captain hesitated for a moment. Three was a full complement forthe little boat, and even the boy's light extra weight might be asource of danger. Mary, as she kissed her uncle, heard the boatswaingrowl--
"You may as well drown the lot; the dinghy can't take more than threenohow."
Then Tommy flung herself into her uncle's arms, and sobbed a good-bye.
"Now, my little lass," said he, "bear up. Brave's the word. There'sOne above will look after you. Good-bye? Nonsense! I'll see yousoon, never fear. Now, steady--there you go--now, where's that boy?"
But Dan Whiddon, hearing the pessimistic boatswain's words, had slippedaway in the darkness.
The Captain called him, but he did not reappear.
"Well, perhaps it's as well," said the Captain. "Now, girls, don'ttire yourselves out; lay by till daylight. God bless you!"
Elizabeth silently took the sculls, the other two crouched in thebottom of the boat, which drew slowly away from the ill-fated ship.After a little Tommy sprang up.
"Stop rowing, Bess," she cried. "It's no use going on in the dark.Keep close to the ship, so that we can see Uncle when he puts off onthe raft."
Elizabeth rested on her oars. There was reason in what Tommy had said.For a time the girls could see the trembling masts of the ship in themoonlight, and dark figures moving about the deck; but presently themoon was obscured; some minutes passed before it again emerged from theclouds; and then, when the girls looked for the _Elizabeth_, there wasnot a trace of her to be seen.
The two younger girls were now sitting up in the boat, facing theirsister. They looked with wild eyes into the darkness. The sameterrible thought oppressed them all: had the barque gone down already?Had there been time for the construction of a raft? They dared notspeak, lest their spoken fears should overwhelm them. Elizabethsculled now in this direction, now in that, in the hope that it wasmerely distance that had removed the ship from sight. Now and againshe rested on her oars and listened; but there was no sound in thebreathless stillness, and she dipped her oars again; inaction wasunbearable. So the three miserable girls waited for the dawn.
It came at last with almost startling suddenness. At one moment allthe sky was indigo with gleaming spots; the next, the myriad spangleshad disappeared, and the blue was covered with a curtain of grey. Butdaybreak did not bring with it the expected relief from suspense--alight mist hung upon the surface of the sea--a tantalizing filmy screenwhich the eye could not penetrate. The boat floated idly; again thegirls eagerly strained their ears for sounds of voices, or creakingtackle, or working oars; but they heard nothing except the slowrippling of the sea against the side of the dinghy.
"Pull, Bess," cried Tommy frantically. "We can't have come far. Rowabout; we must find the ship."
Elizabeth, though hope was dead within her, rowed this way and that,but everywhere was the encircling mist; there was no sign of vessel,raft or land.
"We had better wait until the sun is up," she said at last. "It willscatter the mist, and then we can at least see our way."
The air was growing warmer, with a damp clammy heat; but the girlsshivered as they sat silent in the gently rocking boat. The grey mistturned to a golden dust, and presently the sun burst through, puttingthe thinning vapour to flight. Now the girls eagerly scanned thehorizon as it widened, but neither hull nor sail stood out of theimmense tract of blue. Tommy rose in the boat, to see if she couldthen descry any dark patch upon the surface which might be a raft; butthere was nothing. Her lips quivered as the meaning of this vastblankness forced itself upon her mind. For a few moments she stoodwith her back to her sisters; then turning suddenly, she said, with alaugh that was not very different from a sob--
"'There were three sailors of Bristol City.' I say, how should I dofor the part of Little Billee?"
This sudden touch of comedy relieved the tension, as Tommy intended.The other girls smiled feebly, and Tommy, saying to herself, "I musttalk, talk, or we shall all go mad," went on--
"Could I have a swim, do you think?" She flung off her macintosh."It's getting hot."
"Oh, you mustn't think of it," said Mary; "these waters are full ofsharks."
"Well, then, let's have another breakfast. What have they given us?"
While Elizabeth was examining the provisions placed in the boat Tommyleant over the side and dashed handfuls of water over her face.
"There! Now I feel better," she said. "What is there, Bess?"
There were tins of biscuits, sardines, and condensed milk, a bottle ofcoffee extract, three tin cups, a spirit lamp, a small tin kettle, atea-caddy half full, a small box of sugar, a large plum cake, someboiled bacon, and two gallon jars containing water.
"I am not hungry at present," said Elizabeth.
"Neither am I, but one must do something," said Tommy; "a cup of waterand a slice of cake for me."
They all took a
draught of water, but only Tommy made any pretence ofeating.
"Now, Bess," said Tommy as she gulped down her crumbs of cake, "we'lltake turns to row. Uncle----" Her voice broke; she cleared her throatand continued--"Uncle said there must be land somewhere near, and he'llthink us awful slackers if he gets there first."
"We can't tell which way to go," said Mary.
"Of course we can't, but we must choose a direction and stick to it, orwe shall go round in a circle like a dog chasing its tail.
'O' a' the airts the wind can blaw I dearly lo'e the West.'
Let's make for the west, and take our chance."
This suggestion was adopted. Elizabeth admired her small sister'spluck in being so determinedly cheerful. They turned their faces tothe sun, and for some time rowed steadily westward, each girl taking aspell at the oars. But as the day grew older the heat becameintolerable and exertion painful, so they decided to rest until theevening. None of them any longer expected to see the raft, though noneconfessed it; all they hoped for was to find land. They were very muchcramped in the little boat, but none grumbled about the discomforts.By and by it occurred to Elizabeth to rig up their macintoshes as asort of awning, supporting it on the oars and the boat-hook, and thissheltered them from the worst effects of the sun. They made anotherspare meal in the afternoon, and when the sun was between south andwest they resumed their rowing. So far there had not been a sign ofland; but Uncle Ben had certainly said that the ship had struck on areef, and where there were reefs dry land could hardly be far away.This hope buoyed them up through the hot day.