Chapter Five.
They encounter a Storm at Sea, and reach the Island of Cuba.
What had happened to Roger is already known to the reader, and what befell Harry after the explosion on board the Maria Dolorosa may be very shortly recounted.
The shock of his plunge into the cold water brought him to his senses in time to prevent him from drowning, and his first thought was to look after Roger; but his friend was nowhere to be seen. He shouted his name in vain for some time, and then started to swim towards his own ship, which lay quite near, in the faint hope that perhaps his friend might have been seen and rescued by her.
He made enquiries immediately on reaching the deck of the ship, but could elicit no information as to Roger’s whereabouts, and everybody on board was much too busy with his own work of fighting the three remaining Spanish ships to pay any attention to Harry. But he could not thus easily resign himself to Roger’s loss, and he peered over the lee bulwarks in an endeavour to discover his friend’s body, if it were still afloat.
He could, however, see nothing of it, and was beginning to fear that he had indeed lost his dear friend and the companion of his boyhood, when from the Gloria del Mundo, the Spanish ship which was nearest to him, he saw a boat lowered, which pulled away in the direction of a floating piece of wreckage which he had not until then noticed. He saw the boat row up close to this wreckage, and take from it a body which appeared to be hanging limply across it; and, looking more intently, he felt almost certain that the body was that of Roger. The boat pulled back to the Gloria del Mundo, and was hoisted on board.
If the body was indeed that of Roger, then, thank Heaven! he was safe for the time being; but the poor lad was nevertheless still in a very precarious situation, being on board a Spanish ship. Harry could see also that the vessel was in manifest distress, and had apparently not much longer to float.
It was some time after this that Cavendish, having at length disposed of his previous antagonist, ordered his ship to be laid alongside the Gloria del Mundo, with the object of capturing her out of hand, and making a prize of her before she sank. This was accordingly done, and the crash which Roger had heard, followed by the cries and musketry, was indeed, as he believed, the result of the English vessel being laid alongside and the rush of the English boarders.
It goes without saying that Harry was among the first to board, and he immediately commenced his search for Roger, but unluckily began it in a totally different quarter from that in which Roger had been placed.
The Gloria del Mundo was soon in the hands of the English, but it was found that she was sinking too fast for them to save her, and the boarders were at once recalled.
Harry, however, determined not to leave without his friend, and he was therefore left behind when the Englishmen returned to their own vessel. The grapnels uniting the two ships were cut, and at once the craft began to drift apart, Harry being left on board the Spanish vessel searching for Roger.
How he found him and rescued him, obtaining possession of certain documents at the very last moment, and hoisted Roger on deck even as the ship swamped beneath their feet, has already been told.
Now, as to the result of the action. Of the two ships first engaged by the English—the Maria Dolorosa and the Buena Vista—the latter had been sunk at the commencement of the action, and the former had blown up.
The third ship, the Gloria del Mundo, had sunk. The Salvador and El Capitan were the only two of the Spanish fleet that still remained afloat, and both were fearfully knocked about. The Salvador had lost all her masts, every one of her boats had been smashed to pieces by the gun-fire of the English, and her sides were everywhere perforated with shot-holes. But a prize crew had been put on board her, and was now hard at work patching her up and rendering her seaworthy, rigging jury-masts, cutting away wreckage, and otherwise putting her once more into sailing trim. El Capitan was in a similar condition. She had still her mizzenmast standing; but otherwise she was as badly damaged as her companion, and was undergoing the same repairs and refit.
The Spaniards who had escaped on board the Salvador and El Capitan from the other vessels, and the crews of the two ships themselves still left alive, had been divided into five batches, one being put on board each ship. This was done by way of precaution, since, thus separated, there was much less likelihood of their attempting to recapture their own ships or take those of the English.
The English squadron had suffered almost as badly, for although none of the vessels had been sunk, they were all in a very seriously damaged condition. Cavendish’s vessel, the Stag Royal, had lost all her masts, and was in great danger of foundering, her appearance being that of a huge mass of wreckage rather than a ship; but the carpenters were hard at work on her, and were making good her defects as quickly as possible.
The other two vessels of the English fleet, the Elizabeth and the Good Adventure, were not quite so much cut up as the ship of the commodore, but stood in need of a good deal of repair before they would be again serviceable.
The English had put prize crews on board the two Spanish ships, sadly depleting the companies of their own ships, and all hands were kept hard at the work of repair, for Cavendish knew that, in the event of a gale springing up, none of the ships would weather it in their existing condition. It was very trying work, too, this patching up of the vessels at sea, and at the best it could be nothing more than a temporary repair. But at last, after three days of incessant toil, all five of the craft were reported as fit to proceed on the voyage. Yet it was agreed that they ought to run for some place where the ships might be beached, careened, and overhauled thoroughly; otherwise they could not be trusted to weather the storms which they would inevitably meet with on their proposed cruising-ground, which was the Caribbean Sea.
Cavendish therefore summoned a conclave of the captains of his little squadron in the cabin of the flag-ship, to decide upon some place where they might go to execute the necessary repairs.
The charts were got out and laid upon the table; courses were laid off to various places, and the distances thereto measured and calculated; and after some discussion it was decided unanimously that they should run for the West India Islands, trusting that they might meet with no Spanish squadron either on the way or at their rendezvous for overhauling.
The place they agreed to make for was the eastern end of the island of Cuba, as this island lay on their direct course for the Caribbean Sea and the coast of Mexico, where they intended to cruise in the hope of picking up some plate-laden galleon from Vera Cruz or Tampico.
This island of Cuba was, it is true, a Spanish possession, but it was at this time newly discovered and only very sparsely populated. So, by keeping to the eastern extremity of the island, and maintaining a sharp lookout whilst the ships were in the process of careening, they hoped to avoid any encounter with their enemies until, the ships being properly repaired and once more serviceable, they should find themselves in a position to resume their cruise with a view to the securing of more prizes.
The squadron of five ships which they had just beaten had been sent out from Cadiz to intercept Cavendish and prevent him from reaching the Indies, and, being a war fleet, had no treasure on board. The gain to the English consisted, therefore, solely in the acquisition of two more ships for their little fleet; but this was not altogether an unmixed blessing, because, with the obligation to man their extra two vessels, the whole five were now short-handed.
Cavendish gave his orders to his captains, which were that the five vessels should make for the eastern end of Cuba, and, if separated, meet at a spot the bearings of which he gave them, about a day’s sail from the island, whence they would proceed in company, so as to arrive at their agreed destination all together.
It now remained to appoint two captains to the prizes and put prize crews on board them, and this was soon done. Cavendish appointed the first and second officers of his flag-ship as captains of the two captured Spanish ships, replacing his first officer by the third, a man named Leigh, and appointing Roger to the vacant post of second officer.
It had been his intention to promote Harry to a position as officer on one of the captured ships, but the lad begged so hard to be allowed to remain in the same vessel as Roger that Cavendish at last consented, adding that he thought Harry was throwing away an opportunity which might not again occur. So long as he might remain by Roger’s side, however, Harry did not very much care. “Besides,” thought he, “we made a compact to remain always by one another, and I am sure Roger would have stayed with me had I been appointed instead of him.”
The signal was now made for all sail possible to be carried, so that they might the sooner reach their rendezvous and begin the work of overhauling and repairs of which they stood in such urgent need. If separated by storm or any other mischance they were to meet at the place agreed upon during the conclave in the cabin of the flag-ship.
Sail was made accordingly, and the little squadron, now increased by two ships, but with sadly diminished crews, resumed its voyage.
For the first three days all went smoothly, the speed of the whole being regulated by the pace of the slowest vessel in the squadron. On the evening of the third day, however, the weather showed signs of changing. They had been sailing along with a good following breeze, the sky overhead a deep, cloudless, sapphire blue, and the sea smooth enough to relieve them from all uneasiness. Now, however, the sun was sinking toward the horizon like a ball of dull red copper, and the western sky, instead of being clear as previously, was heavy with black clouds that were banking up and threatening to obscure the sun ere it set. Overhead, too, deep violet clouds made their appearance, tinged here and there to lurid red and orange by the rays of the fast-disappearing luminary. The air, moreover, felt dull and heavy, and carried a peculiar odour not unlike brimstone. This singular condition of the atmosphere was not without its effect on the men, who felt listless and disinclined to work. A sense of impending peril seemed to be hanging over all. The wind, too, was gradually dying away, and came fitfully and at intervals in hot, sulphurous puffs. The sea, which had been sparkling in thousands of tiny wavelets in the rays of the sun, began to assume a dark and oily appearance; and a long swell was beginning to make itself felt, causing the sails, as they drooped against the masts, to flap noisily with a sound like the crack of an arquebuse.
Gradually the sky grew blacker and more overcast, and the sea assumed the appearance of ink. The five ships of the squadron were all well within sight of one another, and lay motionless save for their uneasy heaving to the swell which was now fast-rising. Having lost steerage-way, they were “boxing the compass”, that is, were heading first in one direction and then in another, their bows slowly swinging until they pointed in various directions. Cavendish was on deck, looking anxiously at the sky, and presently he gave the order to all hands to shorten sail, and hailed the ship lying nearest to him to do the same.
The other vessels were lying too far away for a hail to carry, and there was no wind to lift the signal flags if hoisted; but the commodore was relieved to see the remainder of the fleet follow his example. In a few moments the canvas of the whole squadron was seen coming heavily down or being rolled up on the yards; and before very long all the ships were either under bare poles or being snugged down with everything secured ready for any emergency.
Cavendish, however, still remained very anxious: and he had cause enough for his anxiety. For his squadron had only recently come through a heavy action, and their timbers were strained; masts had been merely secured in a temporary manner, and the necessary stays and fore and aft preventers had not yet all been rigged; indeed, the process of bending new sails, ropes, etcetera, was still being gone on with although the ships had been got under way at the earliest possible moment. Shot-holes had been only roughly plugged, and in some of the vessels pumping was still being carried on day and night. The two prizes had been knocked about still more badly; in fact the whole squadron was in a very unfit state to encounter even a strong gale, and the coming storm threatened something very much worse than this. But everything was battened down and made as snug as possible, and all that Cavendish could now do was to trust in Providence and hope his ships would survive the tempest, since nothing had been left undone that mortal hands could possibly do.
A dull moaning sound at length began to make itself heard, and several hot sulphurous gusts of wind came down out of the north; the blocks overhead creaked, the cordage rattled, and in the heavy silence weird noises made themselves perceptible. Roger and Harry were standing on the poop, exchanging comments on the weather, and Cavendish and his chief officer, Richard Leigh, were in close conversation on the main-deck just below them, glancing anxiously from time to time toward the northward, where the sky had become black almost as midnight.
“Look there, Harry,” observed Roger, pointing to the main-topgallant yard; and, looking up, Harry perceived two lambent globes of greenish fire.
As he continued looking and wondering what they might be, other weird lights made their appearance on the yard-arms and on the very tops of the masts, presenting a beautiful, but at the same time a very eerie, spectacle. The same phenomenon was to be seen on the spars of every vessel in sight; and as it was by this time very nearly dark (there being scarcely any twilight in these latitudes), the whole squadron had the appearance of being illuminated.
“Whatever can it possibly be?” queried Harry; “I have never seen anything like it before.”
“I suspect,” returned Roger, “that it is in some way connected with the approaching storm. I have heard sailors speak of those lights as witch-lights, death-gleams, and corposants, and their appearance is said always to foretell disaster. I hope, however, that they do not forebode evil on this occasion, although things are looking decidedly unpleasant just now.”
Cavendish, hearing their conversation, looked up, and, observing the apprehension of the two, explained to them that the lights were termed, by the Portuguese navigators, “Lights of Saint Elmo”; and he assured the lads that the lights were not the cause of, but the harbingers of, storm.
“I fear, however,” added he, “that we are in for a bad time of it, and you youngsters had better beware lest you be swept overboard when the sea rises; for if anyone is washed over the side during what is coming he will have no chance of being picked up again. So take care, young men!”
Suddenly Roger perceived, far away to the north, a line of white, which looked like a thin streak of paint drawn across an ebony background, and the dull moaning noise in the air quickly grew in volume, at the same time becoming more shrill. Roger shouted down a warning to Leigh, who was standing near the wheel, and pointed away in the direction from which the line of white was approaching. Cavendish, who had just walked forward to make sure that all was as it should be, heard the warning, and shouted an order for all on deck to prepare for the outfly, and then, seizing his speaking-trumpet, rushed up on the poop beside the boys, and roared out a warning to the only ship within hail. Then, turning, he told the two lads to get down off the poop on to the main-deck, where they would be sheltered to a certain extent by the high bulwarks of the ship. In obedience to this command they hurried down the starboard accommodation ladder, whilst Cavendish made his way down the one on the port side, and all three reached the deck together.
Cavendish then shouted some order to Leigh at the wheel, but whatever it may have been, his words were drowned by the awful shriek and roar of the hurricane as it burst upon them.
To Harry and Roger, who had never experienced anything of the kind before, it seemed as though some mighty invisible hand had smitten the ship, throwing her over on to her beam-ends. She heeled down before the blast until it seemed as though she would capsize altogether, while the two boys were precipitated both together across the streaming decks into the lee scuppers, whence they found it impossible to escape owing to the excessive slant of the deck.
Leigh was hanging on to the wheel for his life, endeavouring to put the helm hard up, and so turn the ship’s stern to the wind to enable her to run before the gale—the only course possible under the circumstances.
Cavendish and a few men in the fore-part of the vessel were meanwhile striving manfully to hoist a staysail and get some way upon the ship, so as to help her to pay off before the sea, and so save her from being pooped by the waves, which were rising higher and higher every moment.
At length the stability of the ship prevailed, and she began to right. Then, Roger and Harry, rushing to Leigh’s assistance, helped him to put the helm up, and the ship paid off and began to scud before the wind, while Cavendish, encouraging his little body of men up in the eyes of the ship, managed to get the foresail set, after having had it nearly blown out of the bolt-ropes.
Looking astern, the boys saw the huge seas rushing after them, each one threatening to engulf the craft and send her to the bottom; and indeed that would speedily have been her fate had the men not been able to set the small rag of sail, and thus made it possible for her to keep ahead of the waves.
The foaming crests of the sea were ablaze with phosphorescence, and appeared to tower above the poop as high as the main-topsail-yard, and the sight of them sweeping along after the ship was positively appalling. The wind now began to increase in violence, literally tearing off the summits of the huge waves and sending them in spindrift hurtling across the deck like showers of shot that cut the face like the lash of a whip. The uproar was terrific, the shrieking and howling of the wind blending with the creaking and straining of the timbers of the labouring ship. Crash succeeded crash aloft, but they could distinguish nothing of what was happening because of the intense blackness. Yet the motion of the ship was becoming steadier, for the reason that the wind was so strong that it was actually beating down the sea.
Suddenly the two lads heard a rending and tearing sound, followed by a crash quite close to them, as something weighty smote the deck; and through the fearful din that raged round them there rang out the scream of a man in agony.
“Harry,” said Roger, “that is the mizzenmast come down, and it has injured some poor fellow! Let us endeavour to reach him if we can.”
And, still holding to each other, they began to feel their way carefully along the deck, which was now encumbered with wreckage.
Suddenly Harry cried out, and fell over something, which proved to be the wreck of the fallen mast.
“Are you hurt, Harry?” queried Roger.
“No, lad,” came the response, “and I think I have found the poor fellow whose scream we heard just now; he seems to have been crushed by the mast as it fell. If you will stoop down here, you will be able to feel his body. Had we but a lever of some kind we might perhaps be able to raise the mast sufficiently to drag him from underneath it.”
Roger climbed over the mast and, feeling for Harry, knelt down beside him, where he found the body that Harry had fallen upon when he tripped over the mast.
By touch he found that the poor seaman, whoever he was, was pinned down immovably to the deck, the mast lying right across the middle of his body.
Roger put his mouth to the ear of the man, and shouted: “Are you badly hurt; and can you move with assistance?”
He caught the reply: “Is that you, Master Trevose? I am pinned down by this spar, and I believe my leg is broken; but if you could manage to get the mast raised by ever so little, I believe I could scramble out from under it.”
“Can we find a lever anywhere?” shouted Roger.
“There are a couple of handspikes in the rack close to you; if you can find these, they will do,” replied the wounded seaman.
Roger worked his way to the rack indicated by the man, and fortunately found the handspikes at once. Taking them both, he quickly scrambled back again and handed one to Harry, retaining the other himself.
The two lads then prized the points under the mast, and threw all their weight on the shafts, using them as levers. They felt the mast quiver and move slightly.
“That’s the way, Master Trevose; one more lift like that and I’ll be out from under,” shouted the man.
Roger and Harry again exerted all their strength, the mast rose perceptibly, and they heard a cry of pain from the seaman as he wormed himself from under the spar.
“I be out now, Master,” came the voice; “if ye can lift me up and get me below, I’ll thank ye.”
One of them supporting him on either side, they raised the unfortunate fellow upright, and with great difficulty assisted him across the deck, and so to the companion-hatch, which they found without trouble, as it was now growing somewhat lighter. The clouds were not quite so thick, and an occasional gleam came from the moon as she was uncovered.
They got the man below, Roger taking him on his back down the companion-ladder, while Harry ran for the surgeon. The latter soon made his appearance, and attended to the sufferer, who proved to be an ordinary seaman named Morgan.
Having seen the patient off their hands and well attended to, the couple returned to the deck.
They found that the wind was lessening every moment, and the clouds were disappearing fast, permitting the moon to shine out fitfully; but the sea, no longer kept down by the pressure of the wind, was rising rapidly.
“I think the squall is past its worst, Harry,” said Roger. “What we have to fear now is the sea, which will get worse, I am afraid, ere it goes down—but look there! Merciful Heaven! what is that?” he continued, pointing away over their port quarter with his finger.
The inky blackness had lifted somewhat, and they could plainly perceive the hull of one of their own ships, presumably; but her ports were open, and her interior appeared as a glowing furnace, while, even as they looked, tongues of fire spurted up from her deck and began to lick round her masts, and from the hapless vessel a long wail of anguish and despair came floating down the wind.
Every eye in the ship was at once turned to the burning vessel, which they presently made out to be, by her rig, the Salvador, one of the two captured Spanish vessels.
What seemed to have happened was that the Spanish prisoners confined below had fired the ship before the squall came down, in the hope of being able to overpower their captors in the ensuing confusion, trusting to luck for the opportunity to extinguish the conflagration afterwards. The storm arising after they had set fire to the vessel, however, the wind had fanned the flames until she had become a raging fiery furnace fore-and-aft. And there was no means of affording succour to the miserable men on board her, for the sea was running tremendously high and rising every minute.
She was an awful but gorgeous spectacle, presenting the appearance of a floating volcano, vomiting flame and smoke as she rushed along before the wind; but still more awful were the cries and shrieks of agony that were borne to them across the intervening water.
Cavendish at once gave orders that his ship should be run as close as possible, compatible with her safety, and this was done; but it was impossible to save her wretched crew, and the rest of the fleet endured the misery of beholding their comrades burn, together with the panic-stricken Spaniards, the authors of the calamity, as many of whom as possible had been released as soon as the fire was discovered.
A speedy end, however, came to the appalling tragedy which was taking place before their very eyes; for while they still watched, powerless to save, a terrific explosion occurred, followed by a rain of blazing pieces of timber and, gruesome sight! of portions of human bodies which had been whirled aloft, and now came hurtling down on the decks of the flag-ship. The fire had reached the Salvador’s magazine!
This awful spectacle cast a deep gloom over the entire ship’s company.
Shortly afterwards, none of the other vessels being in sight, and the sea having moderated somewhat, Cavendish ordered the ship’s course to be altered, and they again bore up for the rendezvous.
On the tenth day after the storm they reached, without further adventure, the agreed latitude and longitude, and hove-to, waiting for the remainder of the squadron to make its appearance.
Two days later, the first of the other vessels, the Elizabeth, made her appearance, and on the same evening, by the light of the tropic stars, the other two joined them.
All four remained hove-to until daybreak. Early on the following morning they all got under weigh again, and headed for the land, which now could not be many miles distant.
Shortly after noon came the ever-welcome cry from the masthead: “Land ho!”
“Where away?” demanded the officer of the watch.
“Dead ahead,” answered the lookout.
“Keep her as she goes,” ordered Cavendish; and with an ever-lessening wind they glided toward the land that climbed higher and higher above the horizon by imperceptible degrees.
By the end of the first dog-watch on that same evening they were close enough to make out the formation of the land; and at length, sighting a bay that looked promising for their purpose, they bore up for it, sounding all the way as they went.
As the land opened up, the bay toward which they were heading appeared to offer increasingly advantageous facilities for careening and repairing; and they presently passed in between two low headlands covered with palms, and dropped anchor in the calm inlet in six fathoms of water, at which depth they could clearly see the bottom of sand thickly dotted with shells and broken pieces of coral.
At last, after many weary and fateful days, they had reached a haven on the other side of the Atlantic; a haven in one of the islands of those fabled Indies where, if legend was to be believed, gold was to be found more plentifully than iron in England!
All hands gazed longingly at the shore; but leave could not be granted that night, as the country was unknown, and although it appeared to be uninhabited, they could not be certain what eventualities might arise. Cavendish, therefore, deemed it better to wait until morning, and then send a strong force on shore to reconnoitre and explore.
Meanwhile Roger and Harry went below to their bunks and slumbered, dreaming of the coming morn. Those of the crew who were off duty slept on deck or in their hammocks, as the fancy took them; the anchor watch was set; and thus all hands, waking or sleeping, waited for the morning which should disclose to them this garden of Paradise.