all."
The men were now getting their big guns over the side into the boats.This would lighten her a little. But as the tide was flowing, anchorswere sent out astern, to prevent the ship from being carried stillfarther on to the reef.
"Go astern at full speed."
The screws revolved and kept on revolving, the ship still stuck fast.The night was very dark, so that everything had to be done by the weirdlight of lanterns. Never mind, the work went cheerily on, and the mensang as they laboured.
"High-water about half-past two, isn't it, Stevenson?" asked CaptainMcBain.
"Yes, sir," the mate replied, "that's about the time, sir."
"Ah! well," the captain said, "she is sure to float then, and there areno signs of your storm coming."
"There is hardly a breath of wind now, sir, but you never know in theselatitudes where it may come on to blow from next."
The cheerful way in which McBain talked reassured our heroes, andtowards eleven o'clock English Ralph spoke as follows,--
"Look here, boys--"
"There isn't a bit of good looking in the dark, is there?" said Allan.
"Well," continued Ralph, "figuratively speaking, look here; I don't seethe good of sticking up on deck in the cold. We're not doing an atom ofgood; let us go below and finish our supper."
"Right," said Allan; "and mind you, that poor girl is below there allthis time. She may want some refreshment."
When they entered the saloon they found it empty, deserted as far ashuman beings were concerned. Polly the cockatoo was there, no one else.
"Well?" said the bird, inquiringly, as she helped herself to an enormousmouthful of hemp-seed. "Well?"
"What have you done with the young lady?" asked Allan.
"The proof o' the pudding--"
Polly was too busy eating to say more. Peter the steward entered justthen, overhearing the question as he came.
"That strange girl, sir," he replied, "went over the side and away inher boat as soon as the ship struck."
"Well, I call that a pity," said Allan; "the poor girl comes here towarn us of danger and never stops for thanks. It is wonderful."
"From this date," remarked Ralph, "I cease to wonder at anything.Steward, you know we were only half done with supper, and we're all ashungry as hunters, and--"
But Peter was off, and in a few minutes our boys were supping as quietlyand contentedly as if they had been in the Coffee-room of the Queen'sHotel, Glasgow, instead of being on a lee shore, with the certainty thatif it came on to blow not a timber of the good ship _Arrandoon_ thatwould not be smashed into matchwood.
But hark! the noise on deck recommences, the men are heaving on thewinch, the engines are once more at work, and the great screw isrevolving. Then there is a shout from the men forward.
"She moves!"
"Hurrah! then, boys, hurrah!" cried McBain; "heave, and she goes."
[The word "hurrah" in the parlance of North Sea sailors means "do yourutmost" or "make all speed."]
The men burst into song--tune a wild, uncouth sailor's melody, wordsextempore, one man singing one line, another metreing it with a second,with a chorus between each line, in which all joined, with all theirstrength of voice to the tune, with all the power of their brawnymuscles to the winch. Mere doggerel, but it did the turn better,perhaps, than more refined music would have done.
In San Domingo I was born, _Chorus_--Hurrah! lads, hurrah! And reared among the yellow corn. Heave, boys, and away we go. Our bold McBain is a captain nice, _Chorus_--Hurrah! lads, hurrah! The main-brace he is _sure_ to splice. Heave, boys, and away we go. The Faroe Isles are not our goal, Oh! no, lads, no! We'll reach the North, and we'll _bag_ the Pole, Heave, boys, and away we go, Hurrah!
"We're off," cried Stevenson, excitedly. "Hurrah! men. Hurrah! hurrah!hurrah!"
The men needed but little encouragement now, though. Round went thewinch right merrily, and in a quarter of an hour the bows were abreastof the anchors.
"Now, steward," said the captain, "splice the main-brace."
The ration was brought and served, Ted Wilson, who was a moving spiritin the 'tween decks, giving a toast, which every man re-echoed ere heraised the basin to his head,--
"Success to the saucy _Arrandoon_, and our bold skipper, CaptainMcBain."
The vessel's head was now turned seawards, and presently the anchorsthat had been taken in were let go again, and fires banked. The longnight wore away, and the dismal dawn came. McBain had lain down for ashort time, with orders to be roused on the first appearance ofdaylight. Rory, anxious to see how the land looked, was on deck nearlyas soon as the captain.
A grey mist was lifting up from off the sea, and from off the shore,revealing black, beetling crags, hundreds of feet high at the water'sedge, a sheer beetling cliff around which thousands of strange sea-birdswere wheeling and screaming, their white wings relieved against theblack of the rocks, on which rows on rows of solemn-looking guillemotssat, and lines of those strange old-fashion-faced birds, the puffins.
The cliffs were snow-clad, the hills above were terraced with rocksalmost to their summits. Between the ship and this inhospitable shorelay a long, dangerous-looking reef of rocks.
"Ah! Rory," said McBain, "there was a merciful Providence watching overus last night. Yonder is where we lay; had it come on to blow, not oneof us would be alive this morning to see the sun rise."
Rory could hardly help, shuddering as he thought of the narrow escapethey had had from so terrible a fate.
When steam was got up they went round the island--it was one of the mostsoutherly of the Faroes; but except around one little bay, where boatsmight land with difficulty, it seemed impossible that human beings couldexist in such a place. What, then, was the mystery of the previousevening, of the fair-haired girl, of the lights inside the reef thatsimulated those of a broad-beamed ship, of the lights like those of avillage that twinkled on shore? The whole affair seemed strange,inexplicable. Now that it was broad daylight the events of thepreceding night, with its dangers and its darkness, had more thesimilitude of some dreadful dream than a stern reality.
This same evening the anchor was let go in the Bay of Thorshaven, thecapital--city, shall I say?--of the Faroe Islands. I am writing a taleof adventure, not a narrative of travel, else would I willingly devote awhole chapter to a description of this quaint and primitive wee, weetown. Our heroes saw it at its very worst, its very bleakest, forwinter still held it in thrall; the turf-clad roofs of its cottages,that in summer are green with grass and redolent of wild thyme, were nowclad with snow; its streets, difficult to climb even in July, were nowstairs of glass; its fort looked frozen out; and its little chapel,where Sunday after Sunday the hardy and brave inhabitants, who nevermove abroad without their lives in their hands, worship God in allhumility--this little chapel stood up black and bold against itsbackground of snow.
Although the streamlets were all frozen, although ice was afloat in thebay, and a grey and leaden sky overhead, our boys were not sorry to landand have a look around. To say that they were hospitably received wouldbe hardly doing the Faroese justice, for hospitality really seems a partand parcel of the people's religion. The viands they placed before themwere well cooked, but curious, to say the least of it. Steak of youngwhale, stew of young seal's liver, roast guillemot and baked auk; thesemay sound queer as dinner dishes, but as they were cooked by the ancientFaroese gentleman who entertained our heroes at his house, each and allof them were brave eating.
Couldn't they stop a month? this gentleman, who looked like a truedescendant of some ancient viking, asked McBain. Well then, afortnight? well, surely one short week?
But, "Nay, nay, nay," the captain answered, kindly and smilingly, to allhis entreaties; they must hurry on to the far north ere spring andsummer came.
The Faroese could give them no clue to the mystery that shrouded theprevious nigh
t. They had never heard of either wreckers or pirates inthese peaceful islands.
"But," said the old viking, "we are willing to turn out to a man; we areone thousand inhabitants in all--including the women; but even they willgo; and we have ten brave, real soldiers in the fort, they too will go,and we will make search, and if we find them we will hang them on--on--"the old man hesitated.
"On the nearest tree," suggested Rory with a mischievous smile.
The viking laughed grimly at the joke.
"Well," he said, "we will hang them anyhow, trees or no trees."
But McBain could not be induced to deviate from his set purpose, andbidding these simple folk a friendly farewell,