Story 2--Chapter XX.
You see there’s that in a fire, that it never knows when it is beaten: you drive it down in one place, and it comes up in another, just where you least expect it; while, after such a shock as we had had, there was nothing surprising in our feeling as most people do when there’s a fire in a ship with a mixed cargo—afraid of an explosion. There were the flames towering up again quite fiercely and always in the most savage way, just out of our reach.
But if the flames could be savage, I felt that I could too, for, you see, I looked upon it as my fault, for sleeping at my post, when I ought to have seen the first flash out. So I got down amongst the smoke and steam, and as they handed me buckets of water, I placed them well, and by degrees we got the fire under again. It was just about daybreak as we turned all the glow and flame into blackness, half hidden by steam; but even then we daren’t leave off, for another such outbreak would have made an end of us. Even now, most of the cargo seemed destroyed, and it was cruel work, for everything fought against us except the weather, which certainly did keep clear and calm, or we must have gone to the bottom. But, as I said, it did seem such cruel work to have things, that we were ready to die for the want of, destroyed before our eyes.
We were all worn out; but sooner than run any more risks, we kept on pouring water here and there, till it seemed quite impossible for fire to break out again; and there we were at last with the ship our own, what there was of it; but though there was a good-sized piece of the fore-deck left, and a little round the wheel, the only way to get from stem to starn was by climbing down amongst the burned rubbish, and then making your way through it till you reached the poop.
By means of a little hunting about, though, we managed to get at some provisions, and among other things a cask of pork, with the top part regularly cooked. We got at water, too, and some rum; and then it didn’t seem to matter, danger or no danger, fire breaking out or mutineers coming back, sleep would have its way, and one after the other we dropped off, the fat passenger in a corner, and Mr Tomtit with his legs dangling down over the burned hold.
I talked to Miss Bell and Mr Ward afterwards about my having neglected my duty, but they would hardly hear a word about it; and now I found that though we had all slept, Miss Bell had been awake and watching; but now she went into the sort of tent we had rigged her up; and Mr Ward having the same thing in his head as I had, we went and had a talk together, and an hour afterwards we had poor Mr Bell neatly wrapped in a piece of sailcloth, with some iron stanchions and bolts at the feet, and lying decently waiting for Miss Bell to wake again.
She came out of her tent at sundown, looking pale and haggard; and as soon as she saw what we had been about, the tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she came and knelt down by her brother’s head and joined her hands.
I did not want the sign Mr Ward made me to do as him and Mr Tomtit did, and there we knelt for some time on that calm, solemn sort of evening, with the ship just gently rolling on what seemed a sea of orange. There wasn’t a breath of wind stirring, but all was quiet and peaceful, with only Miss Bell’s sobs and the twittering of birds to break the stillness.
I don’t think I said so before, but there were a many of the birds escaped the fire, and perched about on the deck and the rigging of the foremast; and when Mr Ward and I had gently lifted the body of the poor gentleman on to a hatch by the side, we drew back, and knelt down again, thinking Miss Bell might like to say a prayer aloud before we gave the body a sailor’s funeral, when one of Mr Butterwell’s robin-redbreasts hopped down upon the deck, and then giving a flit, perched right upon the dead man’s breast, and burst out into its little sad mournful song, making even my poor old battered heart swell and swell, till I was ’most as bad as the fat passenger, whose complaint I must have caught. I can’t tell you how much there seemed in that little bird’s sad song, but it was as if it took you back into the far past, and then again into the future; and weak as the little thing was, it had a strange power over all of us there present.
As if that robin had started them, the sparrows began to twitter just as though at home in the eaves; a thrush, far up on the fore-to’gallant yard, piped out a few notes; and a lark flew up and out over the glorious sea, and fluttered and rose a little way, singing as it went, just as if it were joining with the others in a sort of evening hymn. And now it was that Mr Ward made a sign to me, just as he’d told me he would; and I got up and went softly to raise the head of the hatch, to let the burden it had on it slowly slip into the golden water. But with a faint cry, Miss Bell started forward, seeing what I meant, and half throwing herself upon the long uncouth canvas-wrapping, she sobbed and cried fit to break her heart.
It was a sad sight, and there was not a man there who did not feel for the poor girl. I felt it so much myself that I was glad to turn away; and there we all waited till the sun dipped down below the waves, lower and lower, till he was gone, and a deep rich purple darkness began to steal over the sea. From golden orange the sky too turned from red to a deep blue, with almost every colour of the rainbow staying where the sun had gone down. Then it grew darker and darker, with star after star peeping down at us, and the smooth sea here and there rippled by a soft breeze that came sighing by.
And now it was that Miss Bell’s sobs seemed to have stopped, and, leaning over her, I saw that she had gently slipped away, so that only her poor white arm lay across the body, and when Mr Ward gently lifted it, her head sank lower and lower, and we knew that her grief had been too strong for her, and she had swooned away.
I’ve been at more than one sailor’s funeral, which has a certain sadness about it that seems greater than what, you know ashore, but this seemed to me the worst I had ever had to do with. Trouble seemed to have been heaped upon trouble, and though in the heat and excitement of a storm or a fight you often go very near death, yet you don’t seem to fear it as you do at a time like this was, when, as I stood over that bit of canvas, it seemed to me that I was nearer to my end than I had ever felt in all the dangers I had been through before.
It was growing darker and darker; the birds had all stopped their twittering, and I was thinking and thinking, when in a slow sad way Mr Tomtit got up, and came and stood over the corpse, and tried to speak, but his voice seemed choked. He went on after a minute or two, though, and said, in a quiet deep voice, a short and earnest prayer, one that I had never seen in a book, nor heard before or since; and in it he prayed the great God of all people, who had seen the sufferings of this our poor brother, to take him to Himself, even as we committed his poor decaying body to the great deep—the Almighty’s great ocean, upon which we poor helpless ones now floated—thanking Him for His preservation of us so far, and praying that His protection might be with us evermore. And he prayed too that as it had pleased God to bereave the sorrowing sister, might it please Him to put it into the heart of every man present to be a new brother and protector to the weeping one, even, were it necessary, unto death.
And then there was a great silence fell upon us all; then came a slow grating sound, a soft rustle as I raised the hatch, and a heavy splash in the water, which broke up into little waves and flashes of light, to die away again into darkness.
There was more than one deep sob heard there that night from out of the darkness; and though dark, it was not so black but we could see Miss Bell at Mr Tomtit’s feet, holding his hand as he bent over her, and she seeming to be kissing and crying over it.
No one seemed to care to move for a long, long time, but at last Miss Bell’s dress rustled softly as she glided away to her tent, and then Mr Tomtit went and leaned over the side. And mind, I do not call him by that name from any disrespect, for, though we had all been ready to laugh at him for his looks and ways, there was not a man there but would have gone and gladly shaken the hand which Miss Bell had kissed; and I felt vexed myself for not feeling before how good a heart the man must have who had so great a love for all of God’s creatures, that he would risk his life even for his birds.
That was a sad, sad night, though the ship seemed lighter now that there was no longer death on board; and I was in such a low miserable state, that I did what seemed to me to be the only thing I could do that night,—I went and sat down beside the fat passenger.