sudden he threw up his arms and, as though he momentarily expected an
explosion, he darted down from the poop, and paced frantically up and down
the deck, gesticulating like a madman, and shouting,--
“Fire on board! Fire! Fire!”
On hearing the outcry, all the crew, supposing that the fire had now
in reality broken out, rushed on deck; the rest of the passengers soon
joined them, and the scene that ensued was one of the utmost confusion.
Mrs. Kear fell down senseless on the deck, and her husband, occupied in
looking after himself, left her to the tender mercies of Miss Herbey.
Curtis endeavoured to silence Ruby’s ravings, whilst I, in as few words
as I could, made M. Letourneur aware of the extent to which the cargo
was on fire. The father’s first thought was for Andre but the young
man preserved an admirable composure, and begged his father not to be
alarmed, as the danger was not immediate. Meanwhile the sailors had
loosened all the tacklings of the long-boat; and were preparing to
launch it, when Curtis’s voice was heard peremptorily bidding them to
desist; he assured them that the fire had made no further progress; that
Mr. Ruby had been unduly excited and not conscious of what he had said;
and he pledged his word that when the right moment should arrive he
would allow them all to leave the ship; but that moment, he said, had
not yet come.
At the sound of a voice which they had learned to honour and respect,
the crew paused in their operations, and the long-boat remained
suspended in its place. Fortunately, even Ruby himself in the midst
of his ravings, had not dropped a word about the picrate that had
been deposited in the hold; for although the mate had a power over the
sailors that Captain Huntly had never possessed, I feel certain that if
the true state of the case had been known, nothing on earth would
have prevented some of them, in their consternation, from effecting an
escape. As it was, only Curtis, Falsten, and myself were cognizant of
the terrible secret.
As soon as order was restored, the mate and, I joined Falsten on the
poop, where he had remained throughout the panic, and where we found
him with folded arms, deep in thought, as it might be, solving some hard
mechanical problem. He promised, at my request, that he would reveal
nothing of the new danger to which we were exposed through Ruby’s
imprudence. Curtis himself took the responsibility of informing Captain
Huntly of our critical situation.
In order to insure complete secrecy, it was necessary to secure the
person of the unhappy Ruby, who, quite beside himself, continued to rave
up and down the deck with the incessant cry of “Fire! fire!” Accordingly
Curtis gave orders to some of his men to seize him and gag him; and
before he could make any resistance the miserable man was captured and
safely lodged in confinement in his own cabin.
CHAPTER XII.
OCTOBER 22nd.--Curtis has told the captain everything; for he persists
in ostensibly recognizing him as his superior officer, and refuses
to conceal from him our true situation. Captain Huntly received the
communication in perfect silence, and merely passing his hand across his
forehead as though to, banish some distressing thought, re-entered his
cabin without a word.
Curtis, Lieutenant Walter, Falsten, and myself have been discussing
the chances of our safety, and I am surprised to find with how much
composure we can all survey our anxious predicament.
“There is no doubt” said Curtis, “that we must abandon all hope
of arresting the fire; the heat towards the bow has already become
well-nigh unbearable, and the time must come when the flames will find
a vent through the deck. If the sea is calm enough for us to make use
of the boats, well and good; we shall of course get quit of the ship as
quietly as we can; if on the other hand, the weather should be adverse,
or the wind be boisterous, we must stick to our place, and contend with
the flames to the very last; perhaps, after all, we shall fare better
with the fire as a declared enemy than as a hidden one.”
Falsten and I agreed with what he said, but I pointed out to him that
he had quite overlooked the fact of there being thirty pounds of
combustible matter in the hold.
“No” he gravely replied, “I have not forgotten it, but it is a
circumstance of which I do not trust myself to think I dare not run
the risk of admitting air into the hold by going down to search for the
powder, and yet I know not at what moment it may explode. No; it is a
matter that I cannot take at all into my reckoning, it must remain in
higher hands than mine.”
We bowed our heads in a silence which was solemn. In the present state
of the weather, immediate flight was, we knew, impossible.
After a considerable pause, Falsten, as calmly as though he were
delivering some philosophic dogma, observed,--
“The explosion, if I may use the formula of science, is not necessary,
but contingent.”
“But tell me, Mr. Falsten,” I asked, “is it possible for picrate of
potash to ignite without concussion?”
“Certainly it is,” replied the engineer. “Under-ordinary circumstances,
picrate of potash although not MORE inflammable than common powder, yet
possesses the same degree of inflammability.”
We now prepared to go on deck. As we left the saloon, in which we had
been sitting, Curtis seized my hand.
“Oh, Mr. Kazallon,” he exclaimed, “if you only knew the bitterness of
the agony I feel at seeing this fine vessel doomed to be devoured by
flames, and at being so powerless to save her.” Then quickly recovering
himself, he continued, “But I am forgetting myself; you, if no other,
must know what I am suffering. It is all over now,” he said more
cheerfully.
“Is our condition quite desperate?” I asked.
“It is just this,” he answered deliberately “we are over a mine, and
already the match has been applied to the train. How long that train may
be, ‘tis not for me to say.” And with these words he left me.
The other passengers, in common with the crew, are still in entire
ignorance of the extremity of peril to which we are exposed, although
they are all aware that there is fire in the hold. As soon as the fact
was announced, Mr. Kear, after communicating to Curtis his instructions
that he thought he should have the fire immediately extinguished and
intimating that he held him responsible for all contingencies that might
happen, retired to his cabin, where he has remained ever since, fully
occupied in collecting and packing together the more cherished articles
of his property and without the semblance of a care or a thought for his
unfortunate wife, whose condition, in spite of her ludicrous complaints,
was truly pitiable. Miss Herbey, however, is unrelaxing in her
attentions, and the unremitted diligence with which she fulfills her
offices of duty, commands my highest admiration.
OCTOBER 23rd.--This morning, Captain Huntly sent for Curtis into his
cabin, and the mate has since made me acquainted with what passed
between them.
“Curtis,” began the captain, his haggard eye betraying only too plainly
some mental derangement, “I am a sailor, am I not?”
“Certainly, captain,” was the prompt acquiescence of the mate.
“I do not know how it is,” continued the captain, “but I seem
bewildered; I cannot recollect anything. Are we not bound for Liverpool?
Ah! yes! of course. And have we kept a north-easterly direction since we
left?”
“No, sir, according to your orders we have been sailing south-east, and
here we are in the tropics.”
“And what is the name of the ship?”
“The ‘Chancellor,’ sir.”
“Yes, yes, the ‘Chancellor,’ so it is. Well, Curtis, I really can’t take
her back to the north. I hate the sea, the very sight of it makes me
ill, I would much rather not leave my cabin.”
Curtis went on to tell me how he had tried to persuade him that with a
little time and care he would soon recover his indisposition, and feel
himself again; but the captain had interrupted him by saying,--
“Well, well; we shall see by-and-by; but for the present you must take
this for my positive order; you must, from this time, at once take
the command of the ship, and act just as if I were not on board. Under
present circumstances, I can do nothing. My brain is all in a whirl, you
cannot tell what I am suffering;” and the unfortunate man pressed both
his hands convulsively against his forehead.
“I weighed the matter carefully for a moment,” added Curtis, “and seeing
what his condition too truly was, I acquiesced in all that he required
and withdrew, promising him that all his orders should be obeyed.”
After hearing these particulars, I could not help remarking how
fortunate it was that the captain had resigned of his own accord, for
although he might not be actually insane, it was very evident that his
brain was in a very morbid condition.
“I succeed him at a very critical moment;” said Curtis thoughtfully;
“but I shall endeavour to do my duty.”
A short time afterwards he sent for the boatswain, and ordered him to
assemble the crew at the foot of the main-mast. As soon as the men were
together, he addressed them very calmly, but very firmly.
“My men,” he said, “I have to tell you that Captain Huntly, on account
of the dangerous situation in which circumstances have placed us, and
for other reasons known to myself, has thought right to resign his
command to me. From this time forward, I am captain of this vessel.”
Thus quietly and simply the change was effected, and we have the
satisfaction of knowing that the “Chancellor” is now under the command
of a conscientious, energetic man, who will shirk nothing that he
believes to be for our common good. M. Letourneur, Andre, Mr. Falsten,
and myself immediately offered him our best wishes, in which Lieutenant
Walter and the boatswain most cordially joined.
The ship still holds her course south-west and Curtis crowds on all
sail and makes as speedily as possible for the nearest of the Lesser
Antilles.
CHAPTER XIII.
OCTOBER 24th to 29th.--For the last five days the sea has been very
heavy, and although the “Chancellor” sails with wind and wave in her
favour, yet her progress is considerably impeded. Here on board this
veritable fireship I cannot help contemplating with a longing eye this
vast ocean that surrounds us. The water supply should be all we need.
“Why not bore the deck?” I said to Curtis. “Why not admit the water by
tons into the hold? What could be the harm? The fire would be quenched;
and what would be easier than to pump the water out again?”
“I have already told you, Mr. Kazallon,” said Curtis, “that the very
moment we admit the air, the flames will rush forth to the very top of
the masts. No; we must have courage and patience; we must wait. There is
nothing whatever to be done, except to close every aperture.”
The fire continued to progress even more rapidly than we had hitherto
suspected. The heat gradually drove the passengers nearly all, on deck,
and the two stern cabins, lighted, as I said, by their windows in the
aft-board were the only quarters below that were inhabitable. Of these
Mrs. Kear occupied one, and Curtis reserved the other for Ruby, who,
a raving maniac, had to be kept rigidly under restraint. I went down
occasionally to see him, but invariably found him in a state of abject
terror, uttering horrible shrieks, as though possessed with the idea
that he was being scorched by the most excruciating heat.
Once or twice, too, I looked in upon the ex-captain. He was always calm
and spoke quite rationally upon any subject except his own profession;
but in connexion with that he prated away the merest nonsense. He
suffered greatly, but steadily declined all my offers of attention, and
pertinaciously refused to leave his cabin.
To-day, an acrid, nauseating smoke made its way through the panellings
that partition off the quarters of the crew. At once Curtis ordered the
partition to be enveloped in wet tarpaulin, but the fumes penetrated
even this, and filled the whole neighbourhood of the ship’s bows with
a reeking vapour that was positively stifling. As we listened, too, we
could hear a dull rumbling sound, but we were as mystified as ever to
comprehend where the air could have entered that was evidently fanning
the flames. Only too certainly, it was now becoming a question not
of days nor even of hours before we must be prepared for the final
catastrophe. The sea was still running high, and escape by the boats was
plainly impossible. Fortunately, as I have said, the main-mast and the
mizzen are of iron; otherwise the heat at their base would long ago
have brought them down and our chances of safety would have been
much imperiled; but by crowding on sail the “Chancellor” in the full
north-east wind continued to make her way with undiminished speed.
It is now a fortnight since the fire was first discovered, and the
proper working of the ship has gradually become a more and more
difficult matter. Even with thick shoes any attempt to walk upon deck up
to the forecastle was soon impracticable, and the poop, simply because
its door is elevated somewhat above the level of the hold, is now the
only available standing-place. Water began to lose its effect upon the
scorched and shrivelling planks; the resin oozed out from the knots
in the wood, the seams burst open, and the tar, melted by the heat,
followed the rollings of the vessel, and formed fantastic patterns about
the deck.
Then to complete our perplexity, the wind shifted suddenly round to the
north-west, whence it blew a perfect hurricane. To no purpose did Curtis
do everything in his power to bring the ship ahull; every effort was
vain; the “Chancellor” could not bear her trysail, so there was nothing
to be done but to let her go with the wind, and drift further and
further from the land for which we are longing so eagerly.
To-day, the 29th, the tempest seemed to reach its height; the waves
appeared to us mountains high, and dashed the spray most violently
across the deck. A boat could not live for a moment in such a sea.
Our situation is terrible. We all wait in silence, some few on the
forecastle, the great proportion of us on the poop. As for the picrate,
for the time we have quite forgotten its existence; indeed it might
almost seem as though its explosion would come as a relief, for no
catastrophe, however terrible, could far exceed the torture of our
suspense.
While he had still the remaining chance, Curtis rescued from the
store-room such few provisions as the heat of the compartment allowed
him to obtain; and a lot of cases of salt meat and biscuits, a cask of
brandy, some barrels of fresh water, together with some sails and wraps,
a compass and other instruments are now lying packed in a mass all ready
for prompt removal to the boats whenever we shall be obliged to leave
the ship.
About eight o’clock in the evening, a noise is heard, distinct even
above the raging of the hurricane. The panels of the deck are upheaved,
and volumes of black smoke issue upwards as if from a safety-valve. An
universal consternation seizes one and all: we must leave the volcano
which is about to burst beneath our feet. The crew run to Curtis for
orders. He hesitates; looks first at the huge and threatening waves;
looks then at the boats. The long-boat is there, suspended right along
the centre of the deck; but it is impossible to approach it now;
the yawl, however, hoisted on the starboard side, and the whale-boat
suspended aft, are still available. The sailors make frantically for the
yawl.
“Stop, stop,” shouts Curtis; “do you mean to cut off our last and only
chance of safety? Would you launch a boat in such a sea as this?”
A few of them, with Owen at their head, give no heed to what he says.
Rushing to the poop, and seizing a cutlass, Curtis shouts again,--
“Touch the tackling of the davit, one of you; only touch it, and I’ll
cleave your skull.”
Awed by his determined manner, the men retire, some clambering into the
shrouds, whilst others mount to the very top of the masts.
At eleven o’clock, several loud reports are heard, caused by the
bursting asunder of the partitions of the hold. Clouds of smoke issue
from the front, followed by a long tongue of lambent flame that seems to
encircle the mizzen-mast. The fire now reaches to the cabin occupied by
Mrs. Kear, who, shrieking wildly, is brought on deck by Miss Herbey.
A moment more, and Silas Huntly makes his appearance, his face all
blackened with the grimy smoke; he bows to Curtis, as he passes, and
then proceeds in the calmest manner to mount the aft-shrouds, and
installs himself at the very top of the mizzen.
The sight of Huntly recalls to my recollection the prisoner still below,
and my first impulse is to rush to the staircase and do what I can to
set him free. But the maniac has already eluded his confinement, and
with singed hair and his clothes already alight, rushes upon deck. Like
a salamander he passes across the burning deck with unscathed feet,
and glides through the stifling smoke with unchoked breath. Not a sound
escapes his lips.
Another loud report; the long-boat is shivered into fragments; the
middle panel bursts the tarpaulin that covered it, and a stream of fire,
free at length from the restraint that had held it, rises half-mast
high.
“The picrate! the picrate!” shrieks the madman; “we shall all be blown
up! the picrate will blow us all up.”
And in an instant, before we can get near him, he has hurled himself,
through the open hatchway, down into the fiery furnace below.
CHAPTER XIV.
OCTOBER 29th:--NIGHT.--The scene, as night came on, was terrible indeed.
Notwithstanding the desperateness of our situation, however, there
was not one of us so paralyzed by fear, but that we fully realized the
horror of it all.
Poor Ruby, indeed, is lost and gone, but his last words were productive
of serious consequences. The sailors caught his cry of “Picrate,
picrate!” and being thus for the first time made aware of the true
nature of their peril, they resolved at every hazard to accomplish their
escape. Beside themselves with terror, they either did not or would
not, see that no boat could brave the tremendous waves that were raging
around, and accordingly they made a frantic rush towards the yawl.
Curtis again made a vigorous endeavour to prevent them, but this time
all in vain; Owen urged them on, and already the tackling was loosened,
so that the boat was swung over to the ship’s side, For a moment it hung
suspended in mid-air, and then, with a final effort from the sailors, it
was quickly lowered into the sea. But scarcely had it touched the water,
when it was caught by an enormous wave which, recoiling with resistless
violence, dashed it to atoms against the “Chancellor’s” side.
The men stood aghast; they were dumbfoundered. Long-boat and yawl both
gone, there was nothing now remaining to us but a small whale-boat. Not
a word was spoken; not a sound was heard but the hoarse whistling of
the wind, and the mournful roaring of the flames. From the centre of the
ship, which was hollowed out like a furnace, there issued a column of
sooty vapour that ascended to the sky. All the passengers, and several
of the crew, took refuge in the aft-quarters of the poop. Mrs. Kear
was lying senseless on one of the hen-coops, with Miss Herbey sitting
passively at her side; M. Letourneur held his son tightly clasped to his
bosom. I saw Falsten calmly consult his watch, and note down the time
in his memorandum-book, but I was far from sharing his, composure, for I
was overcome by a nervous agitation that I could not suppress.
As far as we knew, Lieutenant Walter, the boatswain, and such of the
crew as were not with us, were safe in the bow; but it was impossible
to tell how they were faring because the sheet of fire intervened like a
curtain, and cut off all communication between stem and stern.
I broke the dismal silence, saying “All over now, Curtis.”
“No, sir, not yet,” he replied, “now that the panel is open we will set
to work, and pour water with all our might down into the furnace, and
may be, we shall put it out, even yet.”
“But how can you work your pumps while the deck is burning? and how can
you get at your men beyond that sheet of flame?”
He made no answer to my impetuous questions, and finding that he had
nothing more to say, I repeated that it was all over now.
After a pause, he said, “As long as a plank of the ship remains to stand
on, Mr. Kazallon, I shall not give up my hope.”
But the conflagration raged with redoubled fury, the sea around us was
lighted with a crimson glow, and the clouds above shone with a lurid
glare. Long jets of fire darted across the hatchways, and we were forced
to take refuge on the taffrail at the extreme end of the poop. Mrs.
Kear was laid in the whale-boat that hung from the stern, Miss Herbey
persisting to the last in retaining her post by her side.
No pen could adequately portray the horrors of this fearful night. The
“Chancellor” under bare poles, was driven, like a gigantic fire-ship
with frightful velocity across the raging ocean; her very speed as it
were, making common cause with the hurricane to fan the fire that was
consuming her. Soon there could be no alternative between throwing
ourselves into the sea, or perishing in the flames.
But where, all this time, was the picrate? perhaps, after all, Ruby
had deceived us and there was no volcano, such as we dreaded, below our
feet.
At half-past eleven, when the tempest seems at its very height there
is heard a peculiar roar distinguishable even above the crash of the
elements. The sailors in an instant recognize its import.
“Breakers to starboard!” is the cry.
Curtis leaps on to the netting, casts a rapid glance at the snow-white
billows, and turning to the helmsman shouts with all his might
“Starboard the helm!”
But it is too late. There is a sudden shock; the ship is caught up by an
enormous wave; she rises upon her beam ends; several times she strikes
the ground; the mizzen-mast snaps short off level with the deck, falls
into the sea, and the “Chancellor” is motionless.
CHAPTER XV.
THE NIGHT OF THE 29th CONTINUED.--It was not yet midnight; the darkness
was most profound, and we could see nothing. But was it probable that we
had stranded on the coast of America?
Very shortly after the ship had thus come to a standstill a clanking of
chains was heard proceeding from her bows.
“That is well,” said Curtis; “Walter and the boatswain have cast both
the anchors. Let us hope they will hold.”
Then, clinging to the netting, he clambered along the starboard side,
on which the ship had heeled, as far as the flames would allow him. He
clung to the holdfasts of the shrouds, and in spite of the heavy
seas that dashed against the vessel he maintained his position for a
considerable time, evidently listening to some sound that had caught
his ear in the midst of the tempest. In about a quarter of an hour he
returned to the poop.
“Heaven be praised!” he said, “the water is coming in, and perhaps may
get the better of the fire.”
“True,” said I, “but what then?”
“That,” he replied, “is a question for by-and-by. We can now only think
of the present.”
Already I fancied that the violence of the flames was somewhat abated,
and that the two opposing elements were in fierce contention. Some plank
in the ship’s side was evidently stove in, admitting free passage for
the waves. But how, when the water had mastered the fire, should we be
able to master the water? Our natural course would be to use the
pumps, but these, in the very midst of the conflagration, were quite
unavailable.
For three long hours, in anxious suspense, we watched and watched, and
waited. Where we were we could not tell. One thing alone was certain:
the tide was ebbing beneath us, and the waves were relaxing in their
violence. Once let the fire be extinguished, and then, perhaps, there
would be room to hope that the next high tide would set us afloat.
Towards half-past four in the morning the curtain of fire and smoke,
which had shut off communication between the two extremities of the
ship, became less dense, and we could faintly distinguish that party
of the crew who had taken refuge in the forecastle; and before long,
although it was impracticable to step upon the deck, the lieutenant and
the boatswain contrived to clamber over the gunwale, along the rails,
and joined Curtis on the poop.
Here they held a consultation, to which I was admitted. They were all
of opinion that nothing could be done until daylight should give us
something of an idea of our actual position. If we then found that we
were near the shore, we would, weather permitting, endeavour to land,
either in the boat or upon a raft. If, on the other hand, no land were
in sight, and the “Chancellor” were ascertained to be stranded on some
isolated reef, all we could do would be to get her afloat, and put her
into condition for reaching the nearest coast. Curtis told us that it
was long since he had been able to take any observation of altitude, but
there was no doubt the north-west wind had driven us far to the south;
and he thought, as he was ignorant of the existence of any reef in this
part of the Atlantic, that it was just possible that we had been driven
on to the coast of some portion of South America.
I reminded him that we were in momentary expectation of an explosion,
and suggested that it would be advisable to abandon the ship and take
refuge on the reef. But he would not hear of such a proceeding, said
that the reef would probably be covered at high tide, and persisted in
the original resolution, that no decided action could be taken before
the daylight appeared.
I immediately reported this decision of the captain to my fellow
passengers. None of them seem to realize the new danger to which the
“Chancellor” may be exposed by being cast upon an unknown reef, hundreds
of miles it may be from land. All are for the time possessed with one
idea, one hope; and that is, that the fire may now be quenched and the
explosion averted.
And certainly their hopes seem in a fair way of being fulfilled. Already
the raging flames that poured forth from the hatches have given place
to dense black smoke, and although occasionally some fiery streaks dart
across the dusky fumes, yet they are instantly extinguished. The waves
are doing what pumps and buckets could never have effected; by their
inundation they are steadily stifling the fire which was as steadily
spreading to the whole bulk of the 1700 bales of cotton.
CHAPTER XVI.
OCTOBER 30th.--At the first gleam of daylight we eagerly scanned the
southern and western horizons, but the morning mists limited our view.
Land was nowhere to be seen. The tide was now almost at its lowest ebb,
and the colour of the few peaks of rock that jutted up around us showed
that the reef on which we had stranded was of basaltic formation. There
were now only about six feet of water around the “Chancellor,” though
with a full freight she draws about fifteen. It was remarkable how far
she had been carried on to the shelf of rock, but the number of times
that she had touched the bottom before she finally ran aground left us
no doubt that she had been lifted up and borne along on the top of an
enormous wave. She now lies with her stern considerably higher than her
bows, a position which renders walking upon the deck anything but an
easy matter; moreover as the tide-receded she heeled over so much to
larboard that at one time Curtis feared she would altogether capsize;
that fear, however, since the tide has reached its lowest mark, has
happily proved groundless.
At six o’clock some violent blows were felt against the ship’s side, and
at the same time a voice was distinguished, shouting loudly, “Curtis!
Curtis!” Following the direction of the cries we saw that the broken
mizzen-mast was being washed against the vessel, and in the dusky morning
twilight we could make out the figure of a man clinging to the rigging.
Curtis, at the peril of his life, hastened to bring the man on board,
It proved to be none other than Silas Huntly, who, after being carried
overboard with the mast, had thus, almost by a miracle, escaped a
watery grave. Without a word of thanks to his deliverer, the ex-captain,
passive, like an automaton, passed on and took his seat in the most
secluded corner of the poop. The broken mizzen may, perhaps, be of
service to us at some future time, and with that idea it has been
rescued from the waves and lashed securely to the stern.
By this time it was light enough to see for a distance of three miles
round; but as yet nothing could be discerned to make us think that
we were near a coast. The line of breakers ran for about a mile from
south-west to north-east, and two hundred fathoms to the north of the
ship an irregular mass of rocks formed a small islet. This islet rose
about fifty feet above the sea, and was consequently above the level of
the highest tides; whilst a sort of causeway, available at low water,
would enable us to reach the island, if necessity required. But
there the reef ended; beyond it the sea again resumed its sombre hue,
betokening deep water. In all probability, then, this was a solitary
shoal, unattached to a shore, and the gloom of a bitter disappointment
began to weigh upon our spirits.
In another hour the mists had totally disappeared, and it was broad
daylight. I and M. Letourneur stood watching Curtis as he continued
eagerly to scan the western horizon. Astonishment was written on his
countenance; to him it appeared perfectly incredible that, after our
course for so long had been due south from the Bermudas, no land should
be in sight. But not a speck, however minute, broke the clearly-defined
line that joined sea and sky. After a time Curtis made his way along the
netting to the shrouds, and swung himself quickly up to the top of the
mainmast. For several minutes he remained there examining the open space
around, then seizing one of the backstays he glided down and rejoined us
on the poop.
“No land in sight,” he said, in answer to our eager looks of inquiry.
At this point Mr. Kear interposed, and in a gruff, ill-tempered tone,
asked Curtis where we were. Curtis replied that he did not know.
“You don’t know, sir? Then all I can say is that you ought to know!”
exclaimed the petroleum merchant.
“That may be, sir; but at present I am as ignorant of our whereabouts as
you are yourself,” said Curtis.
“Well,” said Mr. Kear, “just please to know that I don’t want to stay
for ever on your everlasting ship, so I beg you will make haste and
start off again.”
Curtis condescended to make no other reply than a shrug of the
shoulders, and turning away he informed M. Letourneur and myself that if
the sun came out he intended to take its altitude and find out to what
part of the ocean we had been driven. His next care was to distribute
preserved meat and biscuit amongst the passengers and crew already half
fainting with hunger and fatigue, and then he set to work to devise
measures for setting the ship afloat.
The conflagration was greatly abated; no flames now appeared, and
although some black smoke still issued from the interior, yet its volume
was far less than before. The first step was to discover how much water
had entered the hold. The deck was still too hot to walk upon; but
after two hours’ irrigation the boards became sufficiently cool for the
boatswain to proceed to take some soundings, and he shortly afterwards
announced that there were five feet of water below. This the captain
determined should not be pumped out at present, as he wanted it
thoroughly to do its duty before he got rid of it.
The next subject for consideration was whether it would be advisable to
abandon the vessel, and to take refuge on the reef. Curtis thought not;
and the lieutenant and the boatswain agreed with him. The chances of an
explosion were greatly diminished, as it had been ascertained that the
water had reached that part of the hold in which Ruby’s luggage had been
deposited; while, on the other hand, in the event of rough weather,
our position even upon the most elevated points of rock might be very
critical. It was accordingly resolved that both passengers and crew were
safest on board.
Acting upon this decision we proceeded to make a kind of encampment on
the poop, and the few mattresses that were rescued uninjured have been
given up for the use of the two ladies. Such of the crew as had saved
their hammocks have been told to place them under the forecastle where
they would have to stow themselves as best they could, their ordinary
quarters being absolutely uninhabitable.
Fortunately, although the store-room has been considerably exposed
to the heat, its contents are not very seriously damaged, and all
the barrels of water and the greater part of the provisions are quite
intact. The stack of spare sails, which had been packed away in front,
is also free from injury. The wind has dropped considerably since the
early morning, and the swell in the sea is far less heavy. On the whole
our spirits are reviving, and we begin to think we may yet find a way
out of our troubles.
M. Letourneur, his son, and I, have just had a long conversation about
the ship’s officers. We consider their conduct, under the late trying
circumstances, to have been most exemplary, and their courage, energy,
and endurance to have been beyond all praise. Lieutenant Walter,
the boatswain, and Dowlas the carpenter have all alike distinguished
themselves, and made us feel that they are men to be relied on. As for
Curtis, words can scarcely be found to express our admiration of his
character; he is the same as he has ever been, the very life of his
crew, cheering them on by word or gesture; finding an expedient for
every difficulty, and always foremost in every action.
The tide turned at seven this morning, and by eleven all the rocks were
submerged, none of them being visible except the cluster of those which
formed the rim of a small and almost circular basin from 250 to 300 feet
in diameter, in the north angle of which the ship is lying. As the tide
rose the white breakers disappeared, and the sea, fortunately for
the “Chancellor,” was pretty calm; otherwise the dashing of the waves
against her sides, as she lies motionless, might have been attended by
serious consequences.
As might be supposed, the height of the water in the hold increased
with the tide from five feet to nine; but this was rather a matter for
congratulation, inasmuch as it sufficed to inundate another layer of
cotton.
At half-past eleven the sun, which had been behind the clouds since
ten o’clock, broke forth brightly. The captain, who had already in the
morning been able to calculate an horary angle, now prepared to take
the meridian altitude, and succeeded at midday in making his observation
most satisfactorily. After retiring for a short time to calculate the
result; he returned to the poop and announced that we are in lat; 18deg.
5min. N. and long. 45deg. 53min. W., but that the reef on which we are
aground is not marked upon the charts. The only explanation that can be
given for the omission is that the islet must be of recent formation,
and has been caused by some subterranean volcanic disturbance. But
whatever may be the solution of the mystery, here we are 800 miles from
land; for such, on consulting the map, we find to be the actual distance
to the coast of Guiana, which is the nearest shore. Such is the position
to which we have been brought, in the first place, by Huntly’s senseless
obstinacy, and, secondly, by the furious north-west gale.
Yet, after all, the captain’s communication does not dishearten us. As
I said before, our spirits are reviving. We have escaped the peril of
fire; the fear of explosion is past and gone; and oblivious of the fact
that the ship with a hold full of water is only too likely to founder
when she puts out to sea, we feel a confidence in the future that
forbids us to despond.
Meanwhile Curtis prepares to do all that common sense demands. He
proposes, when the fire is quite extinguished, to throw overboard the
whole, or the greater portion of the cargo, including of course, the
picrate; he will next plug up the leak, and then, with a lightened
ship, he will take advantage of the first high tide to quit the reef as
speedily as possible.
CHAPTER XVII.
OCTOBER 30th.--Once again I talked to M. Letourneur about our situation,
and endeavoured to animate him with the hope that we should not be
detained for long in our present predicament; but he could not be
brought to take a very sanguine view of our prospects.
“But surely,” I protested, “it will not be difficult to throw overboard
a few hundred bales of cotton; two or three days at most will suffice
for that.”
“Likely enough,” he replied, “when the business is once begun; but you
must remember, Mr. Kazallon, that the very heart of the cargo is still
smouldering, and that it will still be several days before any one will
be able to venture into the hold. Then the leak, too, that has to be
caulked; and, unless it is stopped up very effectually, we shall be
only doomed most certainly to perish at sea. Don’t, then, be deceiving
yourself; it must be three weeks at least before you can expect to put
out to sea. I can only hope meanwhile that the weather will continue
propitious; it wouldn’t take many storms to knock the ‘Chancellor,’
shattered as she is, completely into pieces.”
Here, then, was the suggestion of a new danger to which we were to be
exposed; the fire might be extinguished, the water might be got rid of
by the pumps, but, after all, we must be at the mercy of the wind and
waves; and, although the rocky island might afford a temporary refuge
from the tempest, what was to become of passengers and crew if the
vessel should be reduced to a total wreck? I made no remonstrance,
however, to this view of our case, but merely asked M. Letourneur if he
had confidence in Robert Curtis?
“Perfect confidence,” he answered; “and I acknowledge it most
gratefully, as a providential circumstance, that Captain Huntly had
given him the command in time. Whatever man can do I know that Curtis
will not leave undone to extricate us from our dilemma.”
Prompted by this conversation with M. Letourneur I took the first
opportunity of trying to ascertain from Curtis himself, how long he
reckoned we should be obliged to remain upon the reef; but he merely
replied, that it must depend upon circumstances, and that he hoped the
weather would continue favourable. Fortunately the barometer is rising
steadily, and there is every sign of a prolonged calm.
Meantime Curtis is taking active measures for totally extinguishing the
fire. He is at no great pains to spare the cargo, and as the bales that
lie just above the level of the water are still a-light he has resorted
to the expedient of thoroughly saturating the upper layers of the
cotton, in order that the combustion may be stifled between the moisture
descending from above and that ascending from below. This scheme has
brought the pumps once more into requisition. At present the crew are
adequate to the task of working them, but I and some of our fellow
passengers are ready to offer our assistance whenever it shall be
necessary.
With no immediate demand upon our labour, we are thrown upon our own
resources for passing our time. Letourneur, Andre and myself, have
frequent conversations; I also devote an hour or two to my diary.
Falsten holds little communication with any of us, but remains absorbed
in his calculations, and amuses himself by tracing mechanical diagrams
with ground-plan, section, elevation, all complete. It would be a happy
inspiration if he could invent some mighty engine that could set us all
afloat again. Mr. and Mrs. Kear, too, hold themselves aloof from
their fellow passengers, and we are not sorry to be relieved from the
necessity of listening to their incessant grumbling; unfortunately,
however, they carry off Miss Herbey with them, so that we enjoy little
or nothing of the young lady’s society. As for Silas Huntly, he has
become a complete nonentity; he exists, it is true, but merely, it would
seem, to vegetate.
Hobart, the steward, an obsequious, sly sort of fellow, goes through his
routine of duties just as though the vessel were pursuing her ordinary
course; and, as usual, is continually falling out with Jynxstrop, the
cook, an impudent, ill-favoured negro, who interferes with the other
sailors in a manner which, I think, ought not to be allowed.
Since it appears likely that we shall have abundance of time on our
hands, I have proposed to M. Letourneur and his son that we shall
together explore the reef on which we are stranded. It is not very
probable that we shall be able to discover much about the origin of this
strange accumulation of rock, yet the attempt will at least occupy us
for some hours, and will relieve us from the monotony of our confinement
on board. Besides, as the reef is not marked in any of the maps, I could
not but believe that it would be rendering a service to hydrography if
we were to take an accurate plan of the rocks, of which Curtis could
afterwards verify the true position by a second observation made with a
closer precision than the one he has already taken.
M. Letourneur agrees to my proposal, Curtis has promised to let us have
the boat and some sounding-lines, and to allow one of the sailors to
accompany us; so to-morrow morning, we hope to make our little voyage of
investigation.
CHAPTER XVIII.
OCTOBER 31st to NOVEMBER 5th.--Our first proceeding on the morning of
the 31st was to make the proposed tour of the reef, which is about a
quarter of a mile long. With the aid of our sounding-lines we found that
the water was deep, right up to the very rocks, and that no shelving
shores prevented us coasting along them. There was not a shadow of doubt
as to the rock being of purely volcanic origin, upheaved by some mighty
subterranean convulsion. It is formed of blocks of basalt, arranged
in perfect order, of which the regular prisms give the whole mass the
effect of being one gigantic crystal; and the remarkable transparency
of the sea enabled us plainly to observe the curious shafts of the
prismatic columns that support the marvelous substructure.
“This is indeed a singular island,” said M. Letourneur; “evidently it is
of quite a recent origin.”
“Yes, father,” said Andre, “and I should think it has been caused by
a phenomenon similar to those which produced the Julia Island, off
the coast of Sicily, or the group of the Santorini, in the Grecian
Archipelago. One could almost fancy that it had been created expressly
for the ‘Chancellor’ to stand upon.”
“It is very certain,” I observed, “that some upheaving has lately taken
place. This is by no means an unfrequented part of the Atlantic, so that
it is not at all likely that it could have escaped the notice of sailors
if it had been always in existence; yet it is not marked even in the
most modern charts. We must try and explore it thoroughly and give
future navigators the benefit of our observations.”
“But, perhaps, it will disappear as it came,” said Andre. “You are no
doubt aware, Mr. Kazallon, that these volcanic islands sometimes have
a very transitory existence. Not impossibly, by the time it gets marked
upon the maps it may no longer be here.”
“Never mind, my boy,” answered his father, “it is better to give warning
of a danger that does not exist than overlook one that does. I daresay
the sailors will not grumble much, if they don’t find a reef where we
have marked one.”
“No, I daresay not, father,” said Andre “and after all this island is
very likely as firm as a continent. However, if it is to disappear, I
expect Captain Curtis would be glad to see it take its departure as soon
as possible after he has finished his repairs; it would save him a world
of trouble in getting his ship afloat.”
“Why, what a fellow you are Andre!” I said, laughing, “I believe you
would like to rule Nature with a magic wand; first of all, you would
call up a reef from the depth of the ocean to give the ‘Chancellor’ time
to extinguish her flames, and then you would make it disappear just that
the ship might be free again.”
Andre smiled; then, in a more serious tone, he expressed his gratitude
for the timely help that had been vouchsafed us in our hour of need.
The more we examined the rocks that formed the base of the little
island, the more we became convinced that its formation was quite
recent, Not a mollusk, not a tuft of seaweed was found clinging to the
sides of the rocks; not a germ had the wind carried to its surface, not
a bird had taken refuge amidst the crags upon its summits. To a lover of
natural history, the spot did not yield a single point of interest; the
geologist alone would find subject of study in the basaltic mass.
When we reached the southern point of the island I proposed that we
should disembark. My companions readily assented, young Letourneur
jocosely observing that if the little island was destined to vanish,
it was quite right that it should first be visited by human beings. The
boat was accordingly brought alongside, and we set, foot upon the
reef, and began to ascend the gradual slope that leads to its highest
elevation.
The walking was not very rough, and as Andre could get along tolerably
well without the assistance of an arm, he led the way, his father and I
following close behind. A quarter of an hour sufficed to bring us to the
loftiest point in the islet, when we seated ourselves on the basaltic
prism that crowned its summit.
Andre took a sketch-book from his pocket, and proceeded to make a
drawing of the reef. Scarcely had he completed the outline when his
father exclaimed,--
“Why, Andre, you have drawn a ham!”
“Something uncommonly like it, I confess,” replied Andre. “I think we
had better ask Captain Curtis to let us call our island Ham Rock.”
“Good,” said I; “though sailors will need to keep it at a respectful
distance, for they will scarcely find that their teeth are strong enough
to tackle with it.”
M. Letourneur was quite correct; the outline of the reef as it stood
clearly defined against the deep green water resembled nothing so much,
as a fine York ham, of which the little creek, where the “Chancellor”
had been stranded, corresponded to the hollow place above the knuckle.
The tide at this time was low, and the ship now lay heeled over very
much to the starboard side, the few points of rock that emerged in the
extreme south of the reef plainly marking the narrow passage through
which she had been forced before she finally ran aground.
As soon as Andre had finished his sketch we descended by a slope as
gradual as that by which we had come up, and made our way towards the
west. We had not gone very far when a beautiful grotto, perfect as an
architectural structure, arrested our attention, M. Letourneur and Andre
who have visited the Hebrides, pronounced it to be a Fingal’s cave
in miniature; a Gothic chapel that might form a fit vestibule for the
cathedral cave of Staffa. The basaltic rocks had cooled down into the
same regular concentric prisms; there was the same dark canopied
roof with its interstices filled up with its yellow lutings; the same
precision of outline in the prismatic angles, sharp as though chiselled
by a sculptor’s hand; the same sonorous vibration of the air across the
basaltic rocks, of which the Gaelic poets have feigned that the harps of
the Fingal minstrelsy were made. But whereas at Staffa the floor of the
cave is always covered with a sheet of water, here the grotto was beyond
the reach of all but the highest waves, whilst the prismatic shafts
themselves formed quite a solid pavement.
After remaining nearly an hour in our newly-discovered grotto we
returned to the “Chancellor,” and communicated the result of our
explorations to Curtis, who entered the island upon his chart by the
name that Andre Letourneur had proposed.
Since its discovery we have not permitted a day to pass without spending
some time in our Ham Rock grotto. Curtis has taken an opportunity of
visiting it, but he is too preoccupied with other matters to have much
interest to spare for the wonders of nature. Falsten, too, came once and
examined the character of the rocks, knocking and chipping them about
with all the mercilessness of a geologist. Mr. Kear would not trouble
himself to leave the ship; and although I asked his wife to join us in
one of our excursions she declined, upon the plea that the fatigue, as
well as the inconvenience of embarking in the boat, would be more than
she could bear.
Miss Herbey, only too thankful to escape even for an hour from her
capricious mistress, eagerly accepted M. Letourneur’s invitation to pay
a visit to the reef but to her great disappointment Mrs. Kear at first
refused point-blank to allow her to leave the ship. I felt intensely
annoyed, and resolved to intercede in Miss Herbey’s favour; and as I
had already rendered that self-indulgent lady sundry services which she
thought she might probably be glad again to accept, I gained my point,
and Miss Herbey has several times been permitted to accompany us across
the rocks, where the young girl’s delight at her freedom has been a
pleasure to behold.
Sometimes we fish along the shore, and, then enjoy a luncheon in the
grotto, whilst the basalt columns vibrate like harps to the breeze.
This arid reef, little as it is, compared with the cramped limits of
the “Chancellor’s” deck is like some vast domain; soon there will be
scarcely a stone with which we are not familiar, scarcely a portion of
its surface which we have not merrily trodden, and I am sure that when
the hour of departure arrives we shall leave it with regret.
In the course of conversation, Andre Letourneur one day happened to say
that he believed the island of Staffa belonged to the Macdonald family,
who let it for the small sum of 12 pounds a year.
“I suppose then,” said Miss Herbey, “that we should hardly get more than
half-a-crown a year for our pet little island.”
“I don’t think you would get a penny for it, Miss Herbey; but are you
thinking of taking a lease?” I said, laughing.
“Not at present,” she said; then added, with a half-suppressed sigh,
“and yet it is a place where I have seemed to know what it is to be
really happy.”
Andre murmured some expression of assent, and we all felt that there was
something touching in the words of the orphaned, friendless girl who had
found her long-lost sense of happiness on a lonely rock in the Atlantic.
CHAPTER XIX.
NOVEMBER 6th to NOVEMBER 15th.--For the first five days after the
“Chancellor” had run aground, there was a dense black smoke continually
rising from the hold; but it gradually diminished until the 6th of
November, when we might consider that the fire was extinguished. Curtis,
nevertheless, deemed it prudent to persevere in working the pumps, which
he did until the entire hull of the ship, right up to the deck, had been
completely inundated.
The rapidity, however, with which the water, at every retreat of the
tide, drained off to the level of the sea, was an indication that the
leak must be of considerable magnitude; and such, on investigation,
proved to be the case. One of the sailors, named Flaypole, dived one
day at low water to examine the extent of the damage, and found that the
hole was not much less than four feet square, and was situated thirty
feet fore of the helm, and two feet above the rider of the keel; three
planks had been stoved in by a sharp point of rock, and it was only a
wonder that the violence with which the heavily-laden vessel had been
thrown ashore did not result in the smashing in of many parts besides.
As it would be a couple of days or more before the hold would be in a
condition for the bales of cotton to be removed for the carpenter to
examine the damage from the interior of the ship, Curtis employed the
interval in having the broken mizzen-mast repaired. Dowlas the carpenter,
with considerable skill, contrived to mortice it into its former stump,
and made the junction thoroughly secure by strong iron-belts and bolts.
The shrouds, the stays and backstays, were then carefully refitted,
some of the sails were changed, and the whole of the running rigging was
renewed. Injury, to some extent, had been done to the poop and to the
crew’s lockers, in the front; but time and labour were all that were
wanted to make them good; and with such a will, did every one set to
work that it was not long before all the cabins were again available for
use.
On the 8th the unlading of the ship commenced. Pulleys and tackling were
put over the hatches, and passengers and crew together proceeded to haul
up the heavy bales which had been deluged so frequently by water that
the cotton was all but spoiled. One by one the sodden bales were placed
in the boat to be transported to the reef. After the first layer of
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