Part 14 (2/2)

”So do I,” was the cheery answer.

Both the young fellows M'Vayne were below at present, and the vessel was battened down.

”Oh, look, look!” cried the mate, seizing the skipper by the arm and pointing fearfully towards the east.

”Good Lord preserve us!” said Captain Wilson in terror.

And well he might be so, for yonder, quite blotting out the clear strip of sky, a huge wave or bore had arisen. It was of semi-lunar shape, and must have been fifty feet high at the very least. The top all along was one ma.s.s of foam.

Nearer and nearer it came!

The sailor men crouched in fear, or hastened to make themselves fast by ropes' ends to rigging or shroud.

And now the fine vessel is struck--is wallowing in the midst of that hurricane-tossed turmoil of waters--is on her beam-ends, without any apparent hope of recovery.

But recover she did after a time, and the ocean wave swept on.

What a wreck! The half-drowned men, or those who were left alive, gasped for breath as they stared wildly around. Two masts gone by the boards, only the pitiful foremast left standing; every boat staved and washed away, bulwarks gaping like sheep hurdles, and the p.o.o.p crushed in.

And the officers where were they? Gone!

Yes--and my story is told from the life and the death--not only bold Captain Wilson himself but both his mates had been swept overboard and drowned.

Five men were missing; nor had all escaped down below. The cook was severely injured, and but for the presence of mind and speed of two ordinary seamen, the s.h.i.+p would have caught fire, for the blazing coals had been dashed out of the range and ignited ropes and twine that lay not far off.

And poor Duncan! He had been dashed to leeward and so stunned that his brother and a sailor who had picked him up, believed him to be dead.

For three days he lay unconscious, but in two more days he was to all appearance himself again.

Although suffering from a bad scalp wound, he was able to go on deck.

And sad indeed was the sight he now beheld. With the binnacle washed away, without an officer to guide or direct the vessel; and the men, in almost hourly expectation of death should the wind spring up again once more, had allowed the s.h.i.+p to drift with the current. They were helpless, ay, and hopeless.

And I am sorry to add that many of them had found their way to the spirit room, and were lying on deck drunk and asleep.

Duncan now proved himself the right man--or boy, for he was but little over seventeen--in the right place.

He called the hands aft.

”Men,” he said, ”we cannot continue in this state; some effort must be made to save our lives and the valuable cargo.”

”Ah! young sir,” said the bo's'n sadly, ”all our officers are dead.

There is no one to guide or navigate the s.h.i.+p. We must drift on till we strike reef or rock and so go to pieces.

”Never fear, sir, we'll die like true-born Britons.”

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