Part 11 (1/2)

”You have acted bravely, Harry,” he said. ”Now put on your clothes, and we shall soon have a communication with the vessel.”

While I was dressing, the rope with the cradle was hauled up to the side of the vessel, and secured to a stanchion; when the crew, getting up a stouter warp, shouted out to us to haul it in, they having secured the cradle to it. We thus had a safe communication established with the wreck, and a stout line to draw the cradle backwards and forwards.

Greatly to our surprise, a female was the first person we drew ash.o.r.e; she burst into tears as we lifted her out of the cradle. Another and another followed; two had infants in their arms; and then came two little boys secured to the cradle. Three men followed, each with a child.

”Have all the women and children landed?” asked papa.

”All who have escaped,” was the answer. ”Several were washed away with the master and two mates.--”

Six more men now came, the sole survivors of the crew.

”Are all hands out of the s.h.i.+p?” asked papa.

”Every soul, sir,” answered one of the men.

There was no time to make inquiries as to how the vessel was wrecked.

We heard that she was a homeward-bound barque from the United States, and that the pa.s.sengers on board were returning to see their friends.

We hurried over to the leeside of the rock, and at once embarked the two women with the infant, who seemed to be totally exhausted.

As soon as we got alongside, we lifted them on board, where papa and I remained, he sending the boat back with our two men. Truck had lighted the galley fire, and we soon had some hot broth for the poor creatures, who, having taken off their wet clothes, got into our beds. Papa then looked out all the blankets, and we made up as many beds as we could on the sofa and cabin deck.

By this time the boat had returned with the remaining women and children. She made no less than seven trips before all were brought off; and, as may be supposed, our little vessel was pretty well crowded.

Even the men were in a greatly exhausted state, and could not do much for themselves. Papa, however, seemed to think and act for everybody.

As soon as all were on board, we hoisted in the boat, and the wind being fair, having shaken out the reefs in the mainsail, we steered for Saint Ives. d.i.c.k, who was not fit for much when we first left the vessel, had now recovered, and a.s.sisted in getting off the wet clothes from our young pa.s.sengers, and in carrying round food.

The cabin presented a curious appearance, with the people stowed as thickly as herrings in a cask, all wrapped up in blankets and peacoats.

Fortunately, the water was smooth under the lee of the land; but the number of people on board brought the vessel much below her usual bearings.

”I am thankful we have not a long voyage to make, or we should soon be short of provisions,” said papa, as we got out tin after tin of soup and meat.

The soft bread and fresh beef we had taken on board at Penzance were soon consumed by the women and children, who speedily rallied from their exhaustion.

The wind, however, fell very light, and there appeared to be a prospect of our not being able to get in that night.

On inquiry, papa found that the master and first mate of the wrecked s.h.i.+p had been tipsy for some days, and had quarrelled desperately with each other, and the second mate, interfering, had been nearly killed.

They had got completely out of their course, and none of them knew where they were. They had been bound for the Thames. The men said that when they saw the Longs.h.i.+ps they fancied that it was the Eddystone, and that when they struck they supposed that they were not far off Plymouth Breakwater, though they were wondering why they did not see the light.

”It is one of the many sad examples we have had of the effects of drinking,” observed papa. ”If I had to make a voyage, I should choose a temperance vessel. Though a master may appear sober enough in port under the eyes of his owners, unless he is a temperate man, one can never tell what he may do at sea.”

On further inquiries we found that nearly half the crew were as tipsy as their officers, and that they, with the cabin pa.s.sengers who had remained aft, had been washed away. The people saved were steerage pa.s.sengers, with the exception of one little boy, whose parents and friends had perished. However, the satisfaction of having been the means of saving the lives of these poor people was to us very great. We were of course greatly interested in the boy, Nat Harvey, who was about six years old. Poor little fellow, he had been so frightened that he was not fully aware of what had occurred, and did not appear fully to realise his loss. He seemed to think that his papa and mamma, and his Aunt f.a.n.n.y and brother and sister, had gone off in a boat, and that he should see them again before long. He kept continually asking why they were not with us. When he heard that we were going to Saint Ives, he said that he hoped we should find them there. One of the women, with a kind heart, had taken him under her charge, and she sat on the cabin floor holding him in her arms with his head resting on her lap, every now and then speaking words of comfort, and endeavouring to get him to go to sleep. Papa inquired from the pa.s.sengers and crew if they knew anything of his family, or where they were going. No one could say what part of the States Mr and Mrs Harvey, with three children and a young lady, who was sister either to Mr or Mrs Harvey--these were their names--had come from.

”We can't turn the poor child adrift among strangers,” observed papa.

”We must take him with us, and try to find out his friends.”

”Oh pray do!” d.i.c.k and I exclaimed. ”I'll look after him, and keep him out of mischief,” added d.i.c.k.

At last papa agreed that the best thing he could do for the child was to keep him on board, unless some kind person of influence at Saint Ives would take charge of him, and endeavour to find out his friends.