Part 44 (1/2)

The ladies could not disobey an order that seemed almost an entreaty, and they returned to their cabin. At the same moment the wind redoubled its fury, making the masts bend beneath the weight of the sails, and completely lifting up the yacht.

”Haul up the foresail!” shouted the captain. ”Lower the topsail and jib-boom!”

Glenarvan and his companions stood silently gazing at the struggle between their good s.h.i.+p and the waves, lost in wondering and half-terrified admiration at the spectacle.

Just then, a dull hissing was heard above the noise of the elements.

The steam was escaping violently, not by the funnel, but from the safety-valves of the boiler; the alarm whistle sounded unnaturally loud, and the yacht made a frightful pitch, overturning Wilson, who was at the wheel, by an unexpected blow from the tiller. The DUNCAN no longer obeyed the helm.

”What is the matter?” cried the captain, rus.h.i.+ng on the bridge.

”The s.h.i.+p is heeling over on her side,” replied Wilson.

”The engine! the engine!” shouted the engineer.

Away rushed John to the engine-room. A cloud of steam filled the room.

The pistons were motionless in their cylinders, and they were apparently powerless, and the engine-driver, fearing for his boilers, was letting off the steam.

”What's wrong?” asked the captain.

”The propeller is bent or entangled,” was the reply. ”It's not acting at all.”

”Can't you extricate it?”

”It is impossible.”

An accident like this could not be remedied, and John's only resource was to fall back on his sails, and seek to make an auxiliary of his most powerful enemy, the wind. He went up again on deck, and after explaining in a few words to Lord Glenarvan how things stood, begged him to retire to his cabin, with the rest of the pa.s.sengers. But Glenarvan wished to remain above.

”No, your Lords.h.i.+p,” said the captain in a firm tone, ”I must be alone with my men. Go into the saloon. The vessel will have a hard fight with the waves, and they would sweep you over without mercy.”

”But we might be a help.”

”Go in, my Lord, go in. I must indeed insist on it. There are times when I must be master on board, and retire you must.”

Their situation must indeed be desperate for John Mangles to speak in such authoritative language. Glenarvan was wise enough to understand this, and felt he must set an example in obedience. He therefore quitted the deck immediately with his three companions, and rejoined the ladies, who were anxiously watching the DENOUEMENT of this war with the elements.

”He's an energetic fellow, this brave John of mine!” said Lord Glenarvan, as he entered the saloon.

”That he is,” replied Paganel. ”He reminds me of your great Shakespeare's boatswain in the 'Tempest,' who says to the king on board: 'Hence! What care these roarers for the name of king? To cabin! Silence!

Trouble us not.'”

However, John Mangles did not lose a second in extricating his s.h.i.+p from the peril in which she was placed by the condition of her screw propeller. He resolved to rely on the mainsail for keeping in the right route as far as possible, and to brace the yards obliquely, so as not to present a direct front to the storm. The yacht turned about like a swift horse that feels the spur, and presented a broadside to the billows. The only question was, how long would she hold out with so little sail, and what sail could resist such violence for any length of time. The great advantage of keeping up the mainsail was that it presented to the waves only the most solid portions of the yacht, and kept her in the right course. Still it involved some peril, for the vessel might get engulfed between the waves, and not be able to raise herself. But Mangles felt there was no alternative, and all he could do was to keep the crew ready to alter the sail at any moment, and stay in the shrouds himself watching the tempest.

The remainder of the night was spent in this manner, and it was hoped that morning would bring a calm. But this was a delusive hope. At 8 A.

M. the wind had increased to a hurricane.

John said nothing, but he trembled for his s.h.i.+p, and those on board.

The DUNCAN made a frightful plunge forward, and for an instant the men thought she would never rise again. Already they had seized their hatchets to cut away the shrouds from the mainmast, but the next minute the sails were torn away by the tempest, and had flown off like gigantic albatrosses.