Part 8 (2/2)
”I will, however, go aloft, and make sure what it is.”
In spite of the intense heat, Mr Charlton climbed up to the masthead.
He carefully scanned the horizon in every direction, and then speedily returned on deck.
”We are nearer to the reef than I had supposed, sir,” he said. ”We may keep the boats ahead, and somewhat hinder the s.h.i.+p driving so rapidly towards it; but it is evident that a strong current sets in that direction. Had it been at night, we should have struck before we could have seen it.”
”Pipe the hands on deck, then, Mr Charlton,” answered the captain calmly. ”If towing is to serve us, there is no time to be lost.”
Mr Martin was sent for, and his shrill whistle soon brought the whole of the crew tumbling up from below, the landsmen and idlers only remaining to stow away the mess things.
The boats were soon lowered and manned, and sent ahead. The hot sun shone down on the men in the boats as they toiled away to keep the s.h.i.+p's head off the reef. It seemed, however, that they rowed to little purpose; for the undulations appeared at shorter intervals, and seemed to send the frigate towards the threatening rocks, on which a surf, not at first perceived, now began to break, forming a white streak across the horizon.
The sails were brailed up, but not furled, in order that they might again be at once set, should a breeze spring up to fill them.
Mr Charlton stood on the forecastle, directing the boats how to pull.
Every now and then he cast an anxious eye astern towards the breakers, which continued to rise higher and higher. A cast of the deep-sea lead was taken, but no bottom was found. To anchor was, therefore, impossible. Everybody on board saw the fearful danger in which the frigate was placed. One thing only, it seemed, could save her--a breeze from the direction towards which she was drifting. All eyes, not otherwise employed, were glancing anxiously round the horizon, looking out for the wished-for breeze. Ben and Tom were as active as usual.
They remained on board, as only the strongest men were sent into the boats; it was trying even for men. They continued rowing, and, encouraged by their officers, as hard as they had ever before rowed.
Suddenly, without a moment's warning, the captain ordered them to return on board.
”Hoist in the boats!” he shouted. ”Be smart now, my lads!”
As the boats were being hoisted in, the spoon-drift began to fly across the surface of the hitherto calm ocean, hissing along like sand on the desert. The hitherto smooth undulations now quickly broke up into small waves, increasing rapidly in size and length, with crests of foam crowning their summits.
Directly the boats were secured, the captain shouted, ”Hands shorten sail!” The men with alacrity sprang into the rigging and lay out on the yard. The three topsails were closely reefed; all the other square sails were furled. There was a gravity in the look of the captain and officers which, showed that they considered the position in which the s.h.i.+p was placed very dangerous.
Dark clouds now came rus.h.i.+ng across the sky, increasing in numbers and density. Even before the men were off the yards, the hurricane struck the frigate. Over she heeled to it, till it seemed as if she would not rise again; but the spars were sound, the ropes good. Gradually she again righted, and, though still heeling over very much, answered her helm, and tore furiously through the foaming and loudly-roaring seas.
The captain stood at the binnacle, now anxiously casting his eye along the reef, now at the sails, then at the compa.s.s in the binnacle, and once more giving a glance to windward. The s.h.i.+p's company were at their stations ready to obey any order that their officers might issue. Four of the best men were at the wheel, others were on the look-out forward.
Not a word was spoken. The wind increased rather than lessened after it first broke on the frigate. Had it been a point more from the eastward, it would have driven her to speedy destruction. As it was, it enabled her to lie a course parallel to the reef; but, notwithstanding this, the leeway she made, caused by the heavy sea and the fury of the gale, continued to drive her towards it, and the most experienced even now dreaded that she would be unable to weather the reef.
The hurricane blew fiercer and fiercer. The frigate heeled over till her lee ports were buried in the foaming, hissing caldron of boiling waters through which she forced her way. It was with difficulty the people could keep their feet. The captain climbed up into the weather mizzen rigging, and there he stood holding on to a shroud, conning the s.h.i.+p, as calm to all appearance as if he had been beating up Plymouth Sound. The men at the helm kept their eyes alternately on him and on the sails, ready to obey the slightest sign he might make. Although the topsails were close reefed, they seemed to bend the spars and masts as they tugged and strained to be free; Mr Martin, the boatswain, kept his eye anxiously on them. Now was the time to prove whether the spars were sound, and, if they were sound, whether the rigging had been properly set up, and if that also was sound throughout. A s.h.i.+p, like a human being, is best tried in adversity; it is not in smooth seas and with gentle breezes that her qualities can be proved, any more than the nature of a man can be ascertained if all goes smoothly and easily with him. Therefore, let no one venture to put confidence in himself, till he has been tossed about by the storms of life, and by that time he will have learned that he is weak and frail under all circ.u.mstances, unless sustained by the power of the Holy Spirit, who is alone able to keep him from falling. Ben and Tom had crept up to near where Mr Martin was standing. He saw them exchanging looks with each other.
”There'll be a watery grave for all on board if the spars go,” observed Mr Gimblet. ”Still, it's a satisfaction to believe that they are as sound sticks as ever grew.”
”It's just providential that we set up our rigging only t'other day. If this gale had caught us with it as it was before that time, we might have cried good-bye to our spars, sound as they are,” said Mr Martin.
”Even now, I wish that the wind would come a point or two more on our quarter; we make great leeway, there's no doubt about that.”
Ben and Tom overheard these remarks of the two warrant-officers. Ben fully understood the danger the s.h.i.+p was in, and that before an hour or so was over he and all on board might be in a watery grave; for he saw how impossible it would be for the stoutest s.h.i.+p to hold together if she once struck on the reef to leeward, the fearful character of which had now become more distinct than ever. The sea broke against it with terrific force, rising high up in a wall of water, and then fell curling back on the side from which it came. Not the strongest swimmer could exist for a minute among those breakers. Far away ahead it seemed to extend in one long unbroken line.
The hearts of many on board began to sink; not with unmanly fear, but life was sweet; they had many loved ones in their far distant homes, and they could not but see that long before the frigate could reach the distant point she must drift on the reef. By the loss of one of her sails she would be sent there within a very few minutes. Ben and Tom, young as they were, could not fail clearly to comprehend their danger.
Ben did not tremble; he did not give way to tears, or to any weak fears, but he turned his heart to G.o.d. To Him the young lad prayed that He would protect his mother: he tried to think of what he had done wrong, that he might earnestly repent; and then he threw himself on the love and mercy of Jesus. ”On Thee, O Lord Jesus, on Thee, in Thee I trust,”
he kept saying. All this time, however, his attention was awake; his eyes were open, and his ears ready to receive any order that might be given. Such is the state of mind, such the way in which many a Christian sailor has met death.
On, on, flew the frigate. It was indeed a time of intense anxiety to all on board. The officers were collected near the captain. A short consultation was held. Some of the men thought that they were going to put the s.h.i.+p about, under the belief that she would lie up taller on the other tack. Should she miss stays, however, and of that there was the greatest danger, her almost instant destruction would be the consequence. No; the captain would not make the attempt. He would trust to a change of wind. Should it come ahead, then there would be time enough to go about; if not, it would be best to stand on. They were in G.o.d's hands, not their own. Mr Charlton and the second lieutenant were seen going aloft, with their telescopes at their backs.
Eagerly they scanned the line of breakers. It seemed sometimes as if no human being could hold on up there on the mast, with the hurricane raging so furiously around. The evening was drawing on. Should darkness be down on them before they were clear of the reef, what hope of escape could they have? The eyes of the crew were now directed to their two officers aloft. Their lives seemed to depend on the result of their investigations. At length they were seen to be descending. All watched them eagerly as they reached the deck. Their countenances, it was thought, wore a more cheerful aspect than before. The wind had not lessened, nor was there the slightest indication of a change. The men, as has been said, were at their stations, and no one moved. There they would be found to the last, till the s.h.i.+p should strike. There, too, should all Christian men be found when the last final shaking of the world takes place; there should they be when death overtakes them--doing their duty in that station of life to which G.o.d has called them.
Still the men, as they stood, could hold communication with each other, and it soon became known that Mr Charlton had seen an opening some way ahead, through which he believed the s.h.i.+p would pa.s.s. To corroborate the truth of this report, he and the master were seen again ascending the rigging. The eyes of both the officers were fixed ahead, or rather over the port-bow. All were now again silent, looking at the captain, and ready to spring at a moment to obey the orders he might give; the second lieutenant and Mr Martin were forward. Mr Charlton made a signal to the captain.
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