Part 29 (1/2)

No, for even now from away to windward yonder, unseen by those on board, comes the bore, the hurricane wave. High as houses is it, fleet almost as the wind itself, onward it rolls, downward it comes; and now it is on the reef, it lifts the s.h.i.+p aloft as gently, as easily as a mother lifts her baby and bears her away to safety.

Almost immediately afterwards the fury of the squall is completely spent, the waves no longer break on board, nor the foam and the froth, and the spume. Men can see each other now, and hear each other talk, and orders are given by the captain himself to cut away the wreck, for the foremast has gone five feet above the board.

Half an hour afterwards steam was up, and all was still around the s.h.i.+p, while in the sky calmly shone the moon and stars. But a narrow escape indeed it had been for the good little vessel and the gallant crew that were in her. Though not scathless, the s.h.i.+p had escaped destruction on the reef in that terrible hurricane-squall.

”If ever,” said Captain Wayland, solemnly, ”we have had cause for thankfulness to that great Being who rules on earth and sea, it is this night.”

The captain was standing near the wheel with uncovered head and upturned gaze, the soft light of the moon falling on his face.

There was something very beautiful in this simple, silent, thankful adoration; both the doctor and Dewar, who were standing not far off, felt its influence. Ay, and rough old sailors, who had weathered many a storm and braved many a danger, bared their heads even as the captain did, and breathed that little word that means so much--”Amen?”

The loss of her foremast did not improve the appearance of the _Bunting_, but as they would now complete the voyage under steam, and repair damages at Calcutta, it did not matter very much.

She was kept more in towards the low sandy coast, for north here never a tree or shrub may be seen, while away down south of the line the ocean is edged with a cloudland of green, the leafy mangroves growing on the beach--yes, and in the water itself.

Low sandy hills, and mountains and rocks beyond. Sometimes they come in sight of a squalid Somali-Arab village, but there was no inducement to land.

But see, what is that stealing out round the point? A dhow, and a very large one; a two-masted vessel.

She notices the _Bunting_ as soon as they notice her, and immediately puts about and stands away northward before the breeze.

This is suspicious, and the _Bunting_ gives chase. The dhow has a four miles' start and goes swinging along at a wonderful rate.

”Go ahead at full speed,” is the order.

The _Bunting_ is gaining on the dhow, but in another hour it will be dark.

Mr Dewar slips slyly down below. He goes to the store-room, and a few minutes afterwards he appears at the engine-room door, bearing in his arms half a side of fat bacon.

He winks to the engineer. The latter cuts off a huge junk and sticks it in the fire.

”If you'd like Raggy to come and sit on the safety valve,” says Mr Dewar, ”I'll send him.”

The engineer laughs heartily at the idea, and answers--

”The fat'll do the job,” Mr Dewar, ”without poor Raggy.”

So it does, and just as the sun is dropping like a red-hot cannon-ball into the sea, and turning the waves to blood, the first shot goes roaring through the rigging of that doomed dhow.

Another and another follow, still she cracks on. Then a sh.e.l.l or two are fired and burst right over her.

The Arabs cannot stand that. They lower sails at once.

But behold! almost at the same moment a boat leaves the dhow, and impelled by st.u.r.dy arms goes bounding away sh.o.r.eward.

”Ah!” says Captain Wayland, ”the Arabs won't stop to reckon with us, and they will soon be where we can't follow them.”

”Never mind,” replies Mr Dewar, laughing, ”we'll have the prize.”

”And, sir,” he adds, ”it is all owing to a bit of fat.”