cotton had been removed it became necessary to drain off part of the
water that filled the hold. For this purpose the leak in the side had
somehow or other to be stopped, and this was an operation which was
cleverly accomplished by Dowlas and Flaypole, who contrived to dive at
low tide and nail a sheet of copper over the entire hole. This, however,
of itself would have been utterly inadequate to sustain the pressure
that would arise from the action of the pumps; so Curtis ordered that a
number of the bales should be piled up inside against the broken planks.
The scheme succeeded very well, and as the water got lower and lower in
the hold the men were enabled to resume their task of unlading.
Curtis thinks it quite probable that the leaks may be mended from the
interior. By far the best way of repairing the damage would be to careen
the ship, and to shift the planking, but the appliances are wanting for
such an undertaking; moreover, any bad weather which might occur while
the ship was on her flank would only too certainly be fatal to her
altogether. But the captain has very little doubt that by some device or
other he shall manage to patch up the hole in such a way as will insure
our reaching land in safety.
After two days’ toil the water was entirely reduced and without further
difficulty the unlading was completed. All of us, including even Andre
Letourneur, have been taking our turn at the pumps, for the work is so
extremely fatiguing that the crew require some occasional respite; arms
and back soon become strained and weary with the incessant swing of
the handles, and I can well understand the dislike which sailors always
express to the labour.
One thing there is which is much in our favour; the ship lies on a firm
and solid bottom, and we have the satisfaction of knowing that we
are not contending with a flood that encroaches faster than it can be
resisted. Heaven grant that we may not be called to make like efforts,
and to make them hopelessly, for a foundering ship!
CHAPTER XX.
NOVEMBER 15th to 20th.--The examination of the hold has at last been
made. Amongst the first things that were found was the case of picrate,
perfectly intact; having neither been injured by the water, nor of
course reached by the flames. Why it was not at once pitched into the
sea I cannot say; but it was merely conveyed to the extremity of the
island, and there it remains.
While they were below, Curtis and Dowlas made themselves acquainted with
the full extent of the mischief that had been done by the conflagration.
They found that the deck and the cross-beams that supported it had been
much less injured than they expected, and the thick, heavy planks had
only been scorched very superficially. But the action of the fire on
the flanks of the ship had been of a much more serious character; a long
portion of the inside boarding had been burnt away, and the very ribs
of the vessel were considerably damaged; the oakum caulkings had all
started away from the butt-ends and seams; so much so that it was
little short of a miracle that the whole ship had not long since gaped
completely open.
The captain and the carpenter returned to the deck with anxious faces.
Curtis lost no time in assembling passengers and crew, and announcing to
them the facts of the case.
“My friends,” he said, “I am here to tell you that the ‘Chancellor’ has
sustained far greater injuries than we suspected, and that her hull is
very seriously damaged. If we had been stranded anywhere else than on a
barren reef, that may at any time be overwhelmed by a tempestuous sea
I should not have hesitated to take the ship to pieces, and construct a
smaller vessel that might have carried us safely to land; but I dare not
run the risk of remaining here. We are now 800 miles from the coast of
Paramaribo, the nearest portion of Dutch Guiana, and in ten or twelve
days, if the weather should be favourable, I believe we could reach the
shore. What I now propose to do is to stop the leak by the best means we
can command, and make at once for the nearest port.”
As no better plan seemed to suggest itself, Curtis’s proposal was
unanimously accepted Dowlas and his assistants immediately set to work
to repair the charred frame-work of the ribs, and to stop the leak; they
took care thoroughly to caulk from the outside all the seams that were
above low water mark; lower than that they were unable to work, and
had to content themselves with such repairs as they could effect in the
interior. But after all the pains there is no doubt the “Chancellor” is
not fit for a long voyage, and would be condemned as unseaworthy at any
port at which we might put in.
To-day, the 20th, Curtis having done all that human power could do to
repair his ship, determined to put her to sea.
Ever since the “Chancellor” had been relieved of her cargo, and of the
water in her hold, she had been able to float in the little natural
basin into which she had been driven. The basin was enclosed on either
hand by rocks that remained uncovered even at high water, but was
sufficiently wide to allow the vessel to turn quite round at its
broadest part, and by means of hawsers fastened on the reef to be
brought with her bows towards the south; while, to prevent her being
carried back on to the reef, she has been anchored fore and aft.
To all appearance, then, it seemed as though it would be an easy matter
to put the “Chancellor” to sea; if the wind were favourable the sails
would be hoisted, if otherwise, she would have to be towed through the
narrow passage. All seemed simple. But unlooked-for difficulties had yet
to be surmounted.
The mouth of the passage is guarded by a kind of ridge of basalt, which
at high tide we knew was barely covered with sufficient water to float
the “Chancellor,” even when entirely unfreighted. To be sure she had
been carried over the obstacle once before, but then, as I have already
said, she had been caught up by an enormous wave, and might have been
said to be LIFTED over the barrier into her present position. Besides,
on that ever-memorable night, there had not only been the ordinary
spring-tide, but an equinoctial tide, such a one as could not be
expected to occur again for many months. Waiting was out of the
question; so Curtis determined to run the risk, and to take advantage of
the spring-tide, which would occur to-day, to make an attempt to get the
ship, lightened as she was, over the bar; after which, he might ballast
her sufficiently to sail.
The wind was blowing from the north-west, and consequently right in the
direction of the passage. The captain, however, after a consultation,
preferred to tow the ship over the ridge, as he considered it was
scarcely safe to allow a vessel of doubtful stability at full sail to
charge an obstacle that would probably bring her to a dead lock. Before
the operation was commenced, Curtis took the precaution of having
an anchor ready in the stern, for, in the event of the attempt being
unsuccessful, it would be necessary to bring the ship back to her
present moorings. Two more anchors were next carried outside the
passage, which was not more than two hundred feet in length. The
chains were attached to the windlass, the sailors worked away at the
handspikes, and at four o’clock in the afternoon the “Chancellor” was in
motion.
High tide would be at twenty minutes past four, and at ten minutes
before that time the ship had been hauled as far as her sea-range would
allow; her keel grazed the ridge, and her progress was arrested. When
the lowest part of her stern, however, just cleared the obstruction,
Curtis deemed that there was no longer any reason why the mechanical
action of the wind should not be brought to bear and contribute its
assistance. Without delay, all sails were unfurled and trimmed to the
wind. The tide was exactly at its height, passengers and crew together
were at the windlass, M. Letourneur, Andre, Falsten, and myself being
at the starboard bar. Curtis stood upon the poop, giving his chief
attention to the sails; the lieutenant was on the forecastle; the
boatswain by the helm. The sea seemed propitiously calm and, as it
swelled gently to and fro, lifted the ship several times.
“Now, my boys,” said Curtis in his calm clear voice, “all together!
Off!”
Round went the windlass; click, click, clanked the chains as link by
link they were forced through the hawse-holes.
The breeze freshened, and the masts gave to the pressure of the sails,
but round and round we went, keeping time in regular monotony to the
sing-song tune hummed by one of the sailors.
We had gained about twenty feet, and were redoubling our efforts when
the ship grounded again.
And now no effort would avail; all was in vain; the tide began to turn;
and the “Chancellor” would not advance an inch. Was there time to go
back? She would inevitably go to pieces if left balanced upon the ridge.
In an instant the captain has ordered the sails to be furled, and the
anchor dropped from the stern.
One moment of terrible anxiety, and all is well.
The “Chancellor” tacks to stern, and glides back into the basin, which
is once more her prison.
“Well, captain,” says the boatswain, “what’s to be done now?”
“I don’t know” said Curtis, “but we shall get across somehow.”
CHAPTER XXI.
NOVEMBER 21st to 24th.--There was assuredly no time to be lost before we
ought to leave Ham Rock reef. The barometer had been falling ever since
the morning, the sea was getting rougher, and there was every symptom
that the weather, hitherto so favourable, was on the point of breaking;
and in the event of a gale the “Chancellor” must inevitably be dashed to
pieces on the rocks.
In the evening, when the tide was quite low, and the rocks uncovered,
Curtis, the boatswain, and Dowlas went to examine the ridge which had
proved so serious an obstruction, Falsten and I accompanied them. We
came to the conclusion that the only way of effecting a passage was by
cutting away the rocks with pikes over a surface measuring ten feet by
six. An extra depth of nine or ten inches would give a sufficient gauge,
and the channel might be accurately marked out by buoys; in this way it
was conjectured the ship might be got over the ridge and so reach the
deep water beyond.
“But this basalt is as hard as granite,” said the boatswain; “besides,
we can only get at it at low water, and consequently could only work at
it for two hours out of the twenty-four.”
“All the more reason why we should begin at once, boatswain,” said
Curtis.
“But if it is to take us a month, captain, perhaps by that time the ship
may be knocked to atoms. Couldn’t we manage to blow up the rock? we have
got some powder on board.”
“Not enough for that;” said the boatswain.
“You have something better than powder,” said Falsten.
“What’s that?” asked the captain.
“Picrate of potash,” was the reply.
And so the explosive substance with which poor Ruby had so grievously
imperilled the vessel was now to serve her in good stead, and I now saw
what a lucky thing it was that the case had been deposited safely on the
reef, instead of being thrown into the sea.
Picric acid is a crystalline bitter product extracted from coal-tar, and
forming, in combination with potash, a yellow salt known as picrate of
potash. The explosive power of this substance is inferior to that
of gun-cotton or of dynamite, but far greater than that of ordinary
gunpowder; one grain of picric powder producing an effect equal to that
of thirteen grains of common powder. Picrate is easily ignited by
any sharp or violent shock, and some gun-priming which we had in our
possession would answer the purpose of setting it alight.
The sailors went off at once for their pikes, and Dowlas and his
assistants, under the direction of Falsten, who, as an engineer,
understood such matters, proceeded to hollow out a mine wherein to
deposit the powder. At first we hoped that everything would be ready for
the blasting to take place on the following morning, but when daylight
appeared we found that the men, although they had laboured with a will,
had only been able to work for an hour at low water and that four tides
must ebb before the mine had been sunk to the required depth.
Not until eight o’clock on the morning of the 23rd was the work
complete. The hole was bored obliquely in the rock, and was large enough
to contain about ten pounds of explosive matter. Just as the picrate was
being introduced into the aperture, Falsten interposed:--
“Stop,” he said, “I think it will be best to mix the picrate with common
powder, as that will allow us to fire the mine with a match instead of
the gun-priming which would be necessary to produce a shock. Besides,
it is an understood thing that the addition of gunpowder renders picrate
far more effective in blasting such rocks as this, as then the violence
of the picrate prepares the way for the powder which, slower in its
action, will complete the disseverment of the basalt.”
Falsten is not a great talker, but what he does say is always very
much to the point. His good advice was immediately followed; the two
substances were mixed together, and after a match had been introduced
the compound was rammed closely into the hole.
Notwithstanding that the “Chancellor” was at a distance from the rocks
that insured her from any danger of being injured by the explosion, it
was thought advisable that the passengers and crew should take refuge in
the grotto at the extremity of the reef, and even Mr. Kear, in spite of
his many objections, was forced to leave the ship. Falsten, as soon as
he had set fire to the match, joined us in our retreat.
The train was to burn for ten minutes, and at the end of that time the
explosion took place; the report, on account of the depth of the
mine, being muffled, and much less noisy than we had expected. But the
operation had been perfectly successful. Before we reached the ridge we
could see that the basalt had been literally reduced to powder, and that
a little channel, already being filled by the rising tide, had been
cut right through the obstacle. A loud hurrah rang through the air; our
prison-doors were opened, and we were prisoners no more!
At high tide the “Chancellor” weighed anchor and floated out into the
open sea, but she was not in a condition to sail until she had been
ballasted; and for the next twenty-four hours the crew were busily
employed in taking up blocks of stone, and such of the bales of cotton
as had sustained the least amount of injury.
In the course of the day, M. Letourneur, Andre, Miss Herbey, and I took
a farewell walk round the reef, and Andre with artistic skill, carved on
the wall of the grotto the word “Chancellor,”--the designation Ham Rock,
which we had given to the reef,--and the date of our running aground.
Then we bade adieu to the scene of our three week’s sojourn, where we
had passed days that to some at least of our party will be reckoned as
far from being the least happy of their lives.
At high tide this morning, the 24th, with low, top, and gallant sails
all set, the “Chancellor” started on her onward way, and two hours later
the last peak of Ham Rock had vanished below the horizon.
CHAPTER XXII.
NOVEMBER 24th to DECEMBER 1st.--Here we were then once more at sea, and
although on board a ship of which the stability was very questionable,
we had hopes, if the wind continued favourable, of reaching the coast of
Guiana in the course of a few days.
Our way was south-west and consequently with the wind, and although
Curtis would not crowd on all sail lest the extra speed should have a
tendency to spring the leak afresh, the “Chancellor” made a progress
that was quite satisfactory. Life on board began to fall back into its
former routine; the feeling of insecurity and the consciousness that
we were merely retracing our path doing much, however, to destroy the
animated intercourse that would otherwise go on between passenger and
passenger.
The first few days passed without any incident worth recording, then
on the 29th, the wind shifted to the north, and it became necessary to
brace the yards, trim the sails, and take a starboard tack. This made
the ship lurch very much on one side, and as Curtis felt that she was
labouring far too heavily, he clued up the top-gallants, prudently
reckoning that, under the circumstances, caution was far more important
than speed.
The night came on dark and foggy. The breeze freshened considerably,
and, unfortunately for us, hailed from the north-west. Although we
carried no top-sails at all, the ship seemed to heel over more than
ever. Most of the passengers had retired to their cabins, but all the
crew remained on deck, whilst Curtis never quitted his post upon the
poop.
Towards two o’clock in the morning I was myself preparing to go to my
cabin, when Burke, one of the sailors who had been down into the hold,
came on deck with the ominous cry,--
“Two feet of water below.”
In an instant Curtis and the boatswain had descended the ladder. The
startling news was only too true; the sea-water was entering the hold,
but whether the leak had sprung afresh, or whether the caulking in some
of the seams was insufficient, it was then impossible to determine; all
that could be done was to let the ship go with the wind and wait for
day.
At daybreak they sounded again:--“Three feet of water!” was the report,
I glanced at Curtis, his lips were white, but he had not lost his
self-possession. He quietly informed such of the passengers as were
already on deck of the new danger that threatened us; it was better that
they should know the worst, and the fact could not be long concealed. I
told M. Letourneur that I could not help hoping that there might yet be
time to reach the land before the last crisis came. Falsten was about to
give vent to an expression of despair, but he was soon silenced by Miss
Herbey asserting her confidence that all would yet be well.
Curtis at once divided the crew into two sets, and made them work
incessantly, turn and turn about at the pumps. The men applied
themselves to their task with resignation rather than with ardour; the
labour was hard and scarcely repaid them; the pumps were constantly
getting out of order, the valves being choked up by the ashes and bits
of cotton that were floating about in the hold, while every moment that
was spent in cleaning or repairing them was so much time lost.
Slowly, but surely, the water continued to rise, and on the following
morning the soundings gave five feet for its depth, I noticed that
Curtis’s brow contracted each time that the boatswain or the lieutenant
brought him their report. There was no doubt it was only a question of
time, and not for an instant must the efforts for keeping down the level
be relaxed. Already the ship had sunk a foot lower in the water, and as
her weight increased she no longer rose buoyantly with the waves, but
pitched and rolled considerably.
All yesterday, and last night, the pumping continued; but still the
sea gained upon us. The crew are weary and discouraged, but the second
officer and the boatswain set them a fine example of endurance, and the
passengers have now begun to take their turn at the pumps.
But all are conscious of toiling almost against hope; we are no longer
secured firmly to the solid soil of the Ham Rock reef, but we are
floating over an abyss which daily, nay hourly, threatens to swallow us
into its depths.
CHAPTER XXIII.
DECEMBER 2nd and 3rd.--For four hours we have succeeded in keeping the
water in the hold to one level; now, however, it is very evident that
the time cannot be far distant when the pumps will be quite unequal to
their task.
Yesterday Curtis, who does not allow himself a minute’s rest, made a
personal inspection of the hold. I, with the boatswain and carpenter,
accompanied him. After dislodging some of the bales of cotton we could
hear a splashing, or rather gurgling sound; but whether the water
was entering at the original aperture, or whether it found its way in
through a general dislocation of the seams, we were unable to discover.
But whichever might be the case, Curtis determined to try a plan which,
by cutting off communication between the interior and exterior of the
vessel, might, if only for a few hours, render her hull more watertight.
For this purpose he had some strong, well-tarred sails drawn upwards by
ropes from below the keel, as high as the previous leaking-place, and
then fastened closely and securely to the side of the hull. The
scheme was dubious, and the operation difficult, but for a time it
was effectual, and at the close of the day the level of the water
had actually been reduced by several inches. The diminution was small
enough, but the consciousness that more water was escaping through
the scupper-holes than was finding its way into the hold gave us fresh
courage to persevere with our work.
The night was dark, but the captain carried all the sail he could,
eager to take every possible advantage of the wind, which was freshening
considerably. If he could have sighted a ship he would have made signals
of distress, and would not have hesitated to transfer the passengers,
and even have allowed the crew to follow, if they were ready to forsake
him; for himself his mind was made up, he should remain on board the
“Chancellor” until she foundered beneath his feet. No sail, however,
hove in sight; consequently escape by such means was out of our power.
During the night the canvas covering yielded to the pressure of the
waves, and this morning, after taking the sounding, the boatswain could
not suppress an oath when he announced “Six feet of water in the hold!”
The ship, then, was filling once again, and already had sunk
considerably below her previous water-line. With aching arms and
bleeding hands we worked harder than ever at the pumps, and Curtis makes
those who are not pumping form a line and pass buckets, with all the
speed they can, from hand to hand.
But all in vain! At half-past eight more water is reported in the hold,
and some of the sailors, overcome by despair, refuse to work one minute
longer.
The first to abandon his post was Owen, a man whom I have mentioned
before, as exhibiting something of a mutinous spirit, He is about forty
years of age, and altogether unprepossessing in appearance; his face
is bare, with the exception of a reddish beard, which terminates in a
point; his forehead is furrowed with sinister-looking wrinkles, his lips
curl inwards, and his ears protrude, whilst his bleared and bloodshot
eyes are encircled with thick red rings.
Amongst the five or six other men who had struck work, I noticed
Jynxstrop the cook, who evidently shared all Owen’s ill feelings.
Twice did Curtis order the men back to the pumps, and twice did Owen,
acting as spokesman for the rest, refuse; and when Curtis made a step
forward as though to approach him, he said savagely,--
“I advise you not to touch me,” and walked away to the forecastle.
Curtis descended to his cabin, and almost immediately returned with a
loaded revolver in his hand.
For a moment Owen surveyed the captain with a frown of defiance; but
at a sign from Jynxstrop he seemed to recollect himself; and, with the
remainder of the men, he returned to his work.
CHAPTER XXIV.
DECEMBER 4th.--The first attempt at mutiny being thus happily
suppressed, it is to be hoped that Curtis will succeed as well in
future. An insubordinate crew would render us powerless indeed.
Throughout the night the pumps were kept, without respite, steadily at
work, but without producing the least sensible benefit. The ship became
so water-logged and heavy that she hardly rose at all to the waves,
which consequently often washed over the deck and contributed their
part towards aggravating our case. Our situation was rapidly becoming as
terrible as it had been when the fire was raging in the midst of us;
and the prospect of being swallowed by the devouring billows was no less
formidable than that of perishing in the flames.
Curtis kept the men up to the mark, and, willing or unwilling, they had
no alternative but to work on as best they might; but, in spite of all
their efforts, the water perpetually rose, till, at length, the men in
the hold who were passing the buckets found themselves immersed up to
their waists and were obliged to come on deck.
This morning, after a somewhat protracted consultation with Walter and
the boatswain, Curtis resolved to abandon the ship. The only remaining
boat was far too small to hold us all, and it would therefore be
necessary to construct a raft that should carry those who could not find
room in her. Dowlas the carpenter, Mr. Falsten, and ten sailors were
told off to put the raft in hand, the rest of the crew being ordered to
continue their work assiduously at the pumps, until the time came and
everything was ready for embarkation.
Hatchet or saw in hand, the carpenter and his assistants made a
beginning without delay by cutting and trimming the spare yards and
extra spars to a proper length. These were then lowered into the sea,
which was propitiously calm, so as to favour the operation (which
otherwise would have been very difficult) of lashing them together into
a firm framework, about forty feet long and twenty-five feet wide, upon
which the platform was to be supported.
I kept my own place steadily at the pumps, and Andre Letourneur worked
at my side; I often noticed his father glance at him sorrowfully, as
though he wondered what would become of him if he had to struggle with
waves to which even the strongest man could hardly fail to succumb. But
come what may, his father will never forsake him, and I myself shall not
be wanting in rendering him whatever assistance I can.
Mrs. Kear, who had been for some time in a state of drowsy
unconsciousness, was not informed of the immediate danger, but when
Miss Herbey, looking somewhat pale with fatigue, paid one of her flying
visits to the deck, I warned her to take every precaution for herself
and to be ready for any emergency.
“Thank you, doctor, I am always ready,” she cheerfully replied, and
returned to her duties below. I saw Andre follow the young girl with his
eyes, and a look of melancholy interest passed over his countenance.
Towards eight o’clock in the evening the framework for the raft was
almost complete, and the men were lowering empty barrels, which had
first been securely bunged, and were lashing them to the wood-work to
insure its floating.
Two hours later and suddenly there arose the startling cry, “We are
sinking! we are sinking!”
Up to the poop rushed Mr. Kear, followed immediately by Falsten and Miss
Herbey, who were bearing the inanimate form of Mrs. Kear. Curtis ran to
his cabin, instantly returning with a chart; a sextant, and a compass in
his hand.
The scene that followed will ever be engraven in my memory; the cries of
distress, the general confusion, the frantic rush of the sailors towards
the raft that was not yet ready to support them, can never be forgotten.
The whole period of my life seemed to be concentrated into that terrible
moment when the planks bent below my feet and the ocean yawned beneath
me.
Some of the sailors had taken their delusive refuge in the shrouds, and
I was preparing to follow them when a hand was laid upon my shoulder.
Turning round I beheld M. Letourneur, with tears in his eyes, pointing
towards his son. “Yes, my friend,” I said, pressing his hand, “we will
save him, if possible.”
But Curtis had already caught hold of the young man, and was hurrying
him to the main-mast shrouds, when the “Chancellor,” which had been
scudding along rapidly with the wind, stopped suddenly, with a violent
shock, and began to settle, The sea rose over my ankles and almost
instinctively I clutched at the nearest rope. All at once, when it
seemed all over, the ship ceased to sink, and hung motionless in
mid-ocean.
CHAPTER XXV.
NIGHT OF DECEMBER 4th.--Curtis caught young Letourneur again in his
arms, and running with him across the flooded deck deposited him safely
in the starboard shrouds, whither his father and I climbed up beside
him.
I now had time to look about me. The night was not very dark, and I
could see that Curtis had returned to his post upon the poop; whilst in
the extreme aft near the taffrail, which was still above water, I could
distinguish the forms of Mr. and Mrs. Kear, Miss Herbey, and Mr. Falsten
The lieutenant and the boatswain were on the far end of the forecastle;
the remainder of the crew in the shrouds and top-masts.
By the assistance of his father, who carefully guided his feet up the
rigging, Andre was hoisted into the main-top. Mrs. Kear could not be
induced to join him in his elevated position, in spite of being
told that if the wind were to freshen she would inevitably be
washed overboard by the waves; nothing could induce her to listen to
remonstrance, and she insisted upon remaining on the poop, Miss Herbey,
of course, staying by her side.
As soon as the captain saw the “Chancellor” was no longer sinking,
he set to work to take down all the sails, yards and all, and the
top-gallants, in the hope that by removing everything that could
compromise the equilibrium of the ship he might diminish the chance of
her capsizing altogether.
“But may she not founder at any moment?” I said to Curtis, when I had
joined him for a while upon the poop.
“Everything depends upon the weather,” he replied, in his calmest
manner; “that, of course, may change at any hour. One thing, however, is
certain, the ‘Chancellor’ preserves her equilibrium for the present.”
“But do you mean to say,” I further asked, “that she can sail with two
feet of water over her deck?”
“No, Mr. Kazallon, she can’t sail, but she can drift with the wind, and
if the wind remains in its present quarter, in the course of a few days
we might possibly sight the coast. Besides, we shall have our raft as a
last resource; in a few hours it will be ready, and at daybreak we can
embark.”
“You have not then,” I added, “abandoned all hope even yet?” I marvelled
at his composure.
“While there’s life there’s hope, you know Mr. Kazallon; out of a
hundred chances, ninety-nine may be against us, but perhaps the odd one
may be in our favour. Besides, I believe that our case is not without
precedent. In the year 1795 a three-master, the ‘Juno,’ was precisely
in the same half-sunk, water-logged condition as ourselves; and yet with
her passengers and crew clinging to her top-masts she drifted for twenty
days, until she came in sight of land, when those who had survived the
deprivation and fatigue were saved. So let us not despair; let us hold
on to the hope that the survivors of the ‘Chancellor’ may be equally
fortunate.”
I was only too conscious that there was not much to be said in support
of Curtis’s sanguine view of things, and that the force of reason
pointed all the other way; but I said nothing, deriving what comfort I
could from the fact that the captain did not yet despond of an ultimate
rescue.
As it was necessary to be prepared to abandon the ship almost at a
moment’s notice, Dowlas was making every exertion to hurry on the
construction of the raft. A little before midnight he was on the point
of conveying some planks for this purpose, when, to his astonishment and
horror, he found that the framework had totally disappeared. The ropes
that had attached it to the vessel had snapped as she became vertically
displaced, and probably it had been adrift for more than an hour.
The crew were frantic at this new misfortune, and shouting “Overboard
with the masts!” they began to cut down the rigging preparatory to
taking possession of the masts for a new raft.
But here Curtis interposed:--
“Back to your places, my men; back to your places. The ship will not
sink yet, so don’t touch a rope until I give you leave.”
The firmness of the captain’s voice brought the men to their senses, and
although some of them could ill disguise their reluctance, all returned
to their posts.
When daylight had sufficiently advanced Curtis mounted the mast, and
looked around for the missing raft; but it was nowhere to be seen. The
sea was far too rough for the men to venture to take out the whaleboat
in search of it, and there was no choice but to set to work and to
construct a new raft immediately.
Since the sea has become so much rougher, Mrs. Kear has been induced to
leave the poop, and has managed to join M. Letourneur and his son on
the main-top, where she lies in a state of complete prostration. I need
hardly add that Miss Herbey continues in her unwearied attendance. The
space to which these four people are limited is necessarily very small,
nowhere measuring twelve feet across; to prevent them losing their
balance some spars have been lashed from shroud to shroud, and for the
convenience of the two ladies Curtis has contrived to make a temporary
awning of a sail. Mr. Kear has installed himself with Silas Huntly on
the foretop.
A few cases of preserved meat and biscuit and some barrels of water,
that floated between the masts after the submersion of the deck, have
been hoisted to the top-masts and fastened firmly to the stays. These
are now our only provisions.
CHAPTER XXVI.
DECEMBER 5th.--The day was very hot. December in latitude 16deg. N. is a
summer month, and unless a breeze should rise to temper the burning sun,
we might expect to suffer from an oppressive heat.
The sea still remained very rough, and as the heavy waves broke over the
ship as though she were a reef, the foam flew up to the very top-masts,
and our clothes were perpetually drenched by the spray.
The “Chancellor’s” hull is three-fourths immerged; besides the three
masts and the bowsprit, to which the whale-boat was suspended, the poop
and the forecastle are the only portions that now are visible; and as
the intervening section of the deck is quite below the water, these
appear to be connected only by the framework of the netting that
runs along the vessel’s sides. Communication between the top-masts is
extremely difficult, and would be absolutely precluded, were it not that
the sailors, with practised dexterity, manage to hoist themselves about
by means of the stays. For the passengers, cowering on their narrow
and unstable platform, the spectacle of the raging sea below was truly
terrific; every wave that dashed over the ship shook the masts till they
trembled again, and one could venture scarcely to look or to think lest
he should be tempted to cast himself into the vast abyss.
Meanwhile, the crew worked away with all their remaining vigour at the
second raft, for which the top-gallants and yards were all obliged to
be employed; the planks, too, which were continually being loosened
and broken away by the violence of the waves from the partitions of
the ship, were rescued before they had drifted out of reach, and were
brought into use. The symptoms of the ship foundering did not appear
to be immediate; so that Curtis insisted upon the raft being made with
proper care to insure its strength; we were still several hundred miles
from the coast of Guiana, and for so long a voyage it was indispensable
to have a structure of considerable solidity. The reasonableness of this
was self-apparent, and as the crew had recovered their assurance they
spared no pains to accomplish their work effectually.
Of all the number, there was but one, an Irishman, named O’Ready, who
seemed to question the utility of all their toil. He shook his head with
an oracular gravity. He is an oldish man, not less than sixty, with his
hair and beard bleached with the storms of many travels. As I was making
my way towards the poop, he came up to me and began talking.
“And why, bedad, I’d like to know, why is it that they’ll all be afther
lavin’ of the ship?”
He turned his quid with the most serene composure, and continued,--
“And isn’t it me myself that’s been wrecked nine times already? and
sure, poor fools are they that ever have put their trust in rafts or
boats sure and they found a wathery grave. Nay, nay; while the ould ship
lasts, let’s stick to her, says I.”
Having thus unburdened his mind he relapsed, into silence, and soon went
away.
About three o’clock I noticed that Mr. Kear and Silas Huntly were
holding an animated conversation in the fore top. The petroleum merchant
had evidently some difficulty in bringing the ex-captain round to his
opinion, for I, saw him several times shake his head as he gave long and
scrutinizing looks at the sea and sky. In less than an hour afterwards
I saw Huntly let himself down by the forestays and clamber along to the
forecastle where he joined the group of sailors, and I lost sight of
him.
I attached little importance to the incident, and shortly afterwards
joined the party in the main-top, where we continued talking for some
hours. The heat was intense, and if it had not been for the shelter’
afforded by the sail-tent, would have been unbearable. At five o’clock
we took as refreshment some dried meat and biscuit, each individual
being also allowed half a glass of water. Mrs. Kear, prostrate with
fever, could not touch a mouthful; and nothing could be done by Miss
Herbey to relieve her, beyond occasionally moistening her parched lips.
The unfortunate lady suffers greatly, and sometimes I am inclined to
think that she will succumb to the exposure and privation. Not once had
her husband troubled himself about her; but when shortly afterwards I
heard him hail some of the sailors on the forecastle and ask them to
help him down from the foretop, I began to think that the selfish fellow
was coming to join his wife.
At first the sailors took no notice of his request, but on his repeating
it with the promise of paying them handsomely for their services, two
of them, Burke and Sandon, swung themselves along the netting into the
shrouds, and were soon at his side.
A long discussion ensued. The men evidently were asking more than Mr.
Kear was inclined to give, and at one time if seemed as though the
negotiation would fall through altogether. But at length the bargain
was struck, and I saw Mr. Kear take a bundle of paper dollars from his
waistcoat pocket, and hand a number of them over to one of the men,
The man counted them carefully, and from the time it took him, I should
think that he could not have pocketed anything less than a hundred
dollars.
The next business was to get Mr. Kear down from the foretop, and
Burke and Sandon proceeded to tie a rope round his waist, which they
afterwards fastened to the forestay; then, in a way which provoked
shouts of laughter from their mates, they gave the unfortunate man a
shove, and sent him rolling down like a bundle of dirty clothes on to
the forecastle.
I was quite mistaken as to his object. Mr. Kear had no intention of
looking after his wife, but remained by the side of Silas Huntly until
the gathering darkness hid them both from view.
As night drew on, the wind grew calmer, but the sea remained very rough.
The moon had been up ever since four in the afternoon, though she only
appeared at rare intervals between the clouds. Some long lines of vapour
on the horizon were tinged with a rosy glare that foreboded a strong
breeze for the morrow, and all felt anxious to know from which quarter
the breeze would come, for any but a north-easter would bear the frail
raft on which we were to embark far away from land.
About eight o’clock in the evening Curtis mounted to the main-top but
he seemed preoccupied and anxious, and did not speak to any one. He
remained for a quarter of an hour, then after silently pressing my hand,
he returned to his old post.
I laid myself down in the narrow space at my disposal, and tried to
sleep; but my mind was filled with strange forebodings, and sleep was
impossible. The very calmness of the atmosphere was oppressive; scarcely
a breath of air vibrated through the metal rigging, and yet the sea rose
with a heavy swell as though it felt the warnings of a coming tempest.
All at once, at about eleven o’clock, the moon burst brightly forth
through a rift in the clouds, and the waves sparkled again as if
illumined by a submarine glimmer. I start up and look around me. Is it
merely imagination? or do I really see a black speck floating on the
dazzling whiteness of the waters, a speck that cannot be a rock; because
it rises and falls with the heaving motion of the billows? But the moon
once again becomes overclouded; the sea, is darkened, and I return to my
uneasy couch close to the larboard shrouds.
CHAPTER XXVII.
DECEMBER 6th.--I must have fallen asleep for a few hours, when at four
o’clock in the morning, I was rudely aroused by the roaring of the
wind, and could distinguish Curtis’s voice as he shouted in the brief
intervals between the heavy gusts.
I got up, and holding tightly to the purlin--for the waves made the
masts tremble with their violence--I tried to look around and below me.
The sea was literally raging beneath, and great masses of livid-looking
foam were dashing between the masts, which were oscillating
terrifically. It was still dark, and I could only faintly distinguish
two figures on the stern, whom, by the sound of their voices, that I
caught occasionally above the tumult, I made out to be Curtis and the
boatswain.
Just at that moment a sailor, who had mounted to the main-top to do
something to the rigging, passed close behind me.
“What’s the matter?” I asked,
“The wind has changed,” he answered, adding something which I could not
hear distinctly, but which sounded like “dead against us.”
Dead against us! then, thought I, the wind had shifted to the
south-west, and my last night’s forebodings had been correct.
When daylight at length appeared, I found the wind although not blowing
actually from the south-west, had veered round to the north-west, a
change which was equally disastrous to us, inasmuch as it was carrying
us away from land. Moreover, the ship had sunk considerably during
the night, and there were now five feet of water above deck; the side
netting had completely disappeared, and the forecastle and the poop were
now all but on a level with the sea, which washed over them incessantly.
With all possible expedition Curtis and his crew were labouring away
at their raft, but the violence of the swell materially impeded their
operations, and it became a matter of doubt as to whether the woodwork
would not fall asunder before it could be properly fastened together.
As I watched the men at their work M. Letourneur, with one arm
supporting his son, came and stood by my side.
“Don’t you think this main-top will soon give way?” he said, as the
narrow platform on which we stood creaked and groaned with the swaying
of the masts.
Miss Herbey heard his words, and pointing towards Mrs. Kear, who was
lying prostrate at her feet, asked what we thought ought to be done.
“We can do nothing but stay where we are,” I replied.
“No;” said Andre “this is our best refuge; I hope you are not afraid.”
“Not for myself,” said the young girl quietly “only for those to whom
life is precious.”
At a quarter to eight we heard the boatswain calling to the sailors in
the bows.
“Ay, ay, sir,” said one of the men--O’Ready, I think.
“Where’s the whale boat?” shouted the boatswain.
“I don’t know, sir. Not with us,” was the reply.
“She’s gone adrift, then!”
And sure enough the whale-boat was no longer hanging from the bowsprit;
and in a moment the discovery was made that Mr. Kear, Silas Huntly, and
three sailors,--a Scotchman and two Englishmen,--were missing. Afraid
that the “Chancellor” would founder before the completion of the raft,
Kear and Huntly had plotted together to effect their escape, and had
bribed the three sailors to seize the only remaining boat.
This, then, was the black speck that I had seen during the night. The
miserable husband had deserted his wife, the faithless captain had
abandoned the ship that had once been under his command.
“There are five saved, then,” said the boatswain.
“Faith, an it’s five lost ye’ll be maning,” said O’Ready; and the state
of the sea fully justified his opinion.
The crew were furious when they heard of the surreptitious flight,
and loaded the fugitives with all the invectives they could lay their
tongues to. So enraged were they at the dastardly trick of which they
had been made the dupes, that if chance should bring the deserters again
on board I should be sorry to answer for the consequences.
In accordance with my advice, Mrs. Kear has not been informed of her
husband’s disappearance. The unhappy lady is wasting away with a fever
for which we are powerless to supply a remedy, for the medicine chest
was lost when the ship began to sink. Nevertheless, I do not think we
have anything to regret on that score, feeling as I do, that in a case
like Mrs. Kear’s, drugs would be of no avail.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
DECEMBER 6th CONTINUED.--The “Chancellor” no longer maintained her
equilibrium; we felt that she was gradually going down, and her hull was
probably breaking up. The main-top was already only ten feet above the
water, whilst the bowsprit, with the exception of the extreme end, that
rose obliquely from the waves, was entirely covered.
The “Chancellor’s” last day, we felt, had come.
Fortunately the raft was all but finished, and unless Curtis preferred
to wait till morning we should be able to embark in the evening.
The raft is a very solid structure. The spars that form the framework
are crossed one above another and lashed together with stout ropes, so
that the whole pile rises a couple of feet above the water. The upper
platform is constructed from the planks that were broken from the ship’s
sides by the violence of the waves, and which had not drifted away. The
afternoon has been employed in charging the raft with such provisions,
sails, tools, and instruments as we have been able to save.
And how can I attempt to give any idea of the feelings with which, one
and all, we now contemplated the fate before us? For my own part I was
possessed rather by a benumbed indifference than by any sense of genuine
resignation. M. Letourneur was entirely absorbed in his son, who, in
his turn, thought only of his father; at the same time exhibiting a calm
Christian fortitude, which was shown by no one else of the party
except Miss Herbey, who faced her danger with the same brave composure.
Incredible as it may seem, Falsten remained the same as ever, occupying
himself with writing down figures and memoranda in his pocket-book. Mrs.
Kear, in spite of all that Miss Herbey could do for her, was evidently
dying.
With regard to the sailors, two or three of them were calm enough, but
the rest had well-nigh lost their wits. Some of the more ill-disposed
amongst them seemed inclined to run into excesses; and their conduct,
under the bad influence of Owen and Jynxstrop, made it doubtful whether
they would submit to control when once we were limited to the narrow
dimensions of the raft. Lieutenant Walter, although his courage never
failed him, was worn out with bodily fatigue, and obliged to give up all
active labour; but Curtis and the boatswain were resolute, energetic and
firm as ever. To borrow an expression from the language of metallurgic
art, they were men “at the highest degree of hardness.”
At five o’clock one of our companions in misfortune was released from
her sufferings. Mrs. Kear, after a most distressing illness, through
which her young companion tended her with the most devoted care, has
breathed her last. A few deep sighs and all was over, and I doubt
whether the sufferer was ever conscious of the peril of, her situation.
The night passed on without further incident. Towards morning I touched
the dead woman’s hand, and it was cold and stiff. The corpse could
not remain any longer on the main-top, and after Miss Herbey and I had
carefully wrapped the garments about it, with a few short prayers the
body of the first victim of our miseries was committed to the deep.
As the sea closed over the body I heard one of the men in the shrouds
say,--
“There goes a carcass that we shall be sorry we have thrown away!”
I looked round sharply. It was Owen who had spoken, But horrible as were
his words, the conviction was forced upon my mind that the day could not
be far distant when we must want for food.
CHAPTER XXIX.
DECEMBER 7th.--The ship was sinking rapidly; the water had risen to the
fore-top; the poop and forecastle were completely submerged; the top
of the bowsprit had disappeared, and only the three mast-tops projected
from the waves.
But all was ready on the raft; an erection had been made on the fore to
hold a mast, which was supported by shrouds fastened to the sides of the
platform; this mast carried a large royal.
Perhaps, after all, these few frail planks will carry us to the shore
which the “Chancellor” has failed to reach; at any rate, we cannot yet
resign all hope.
We were just on the point of embarking at 7 a.m. when the “Chancellor”
all at once began to sink so rapidly that the carpenter and men who were
on the raft were obliged with all speed to cut the ropes that secured
it to the vessel to prevent it from being swallowed up in the eddying
waters. Anxiety, the most intense, took possession of us all. At the
very moment when the ship was descending into the fathomless abyss, the
raft, our only hope of safety, was drifting off before our eyes. Two
of the sailors and an apprentice, beside themselves with terror, threw
themselves headlong into the sea; but it was evident from the very first
that they were quite powerless to combat the winds and waves. Escape was
impossible; they could neither reach the raft, nor return to the
ship. Curtis tied a rope round his waist and tried to swim to their
assistance; but long before he could reach them the unfortunate men,
after a vain struggle for life, sank below the waves and were seen no
more. Curtis, bruised and beaten with the surf that raged about the
mast-heads, was hauled back to the ship.
Meantime, Dowlas and his men, by means of some spars which they used as
oars, were exerting themselves to bring back the raft, which had drifted
about two cables-lengths away; but, in spite of all their efforts, it
was fully an hour,--an hour which seemed to us, waiting as we were with
the water up to the level of the top-masts, like an eternity--before
they succeeded in bringing the raft alongside, and lashing it once again
to the “Chancellor’s” main-mast.
Not a moment was then to be lost. The waves were eddying like a
whirlpool around the submerged vessel, and numbers of enormous
air-bubbles were rising to the surface of the water.
The time was come. At Curtis’s word “Embark!” we all hurried to the
raft. Andre who insisted upon seeing Miss Herbey go first, was helped
safely on to the platform, where his father immediately joined him. In
a very few minutes all except Curtis and old O’Ready had left the
“Chancellor.”
Curtis remained standing on the main-top, deeming it not only his duty,
but his right, to be the last to leave the vessel he had loved so well,
and the loss of which he so much deplored.
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