Chapter Eighteen.
A Pacific Hurricane.
Our meal over, the three remaining prisoners were released, and offered their choice between being landed on the island to join the other men, and returning to duty. I reminded them that their conduct in having aided and abetted the more active among the mutineers to seize the ship rendered them guilty of the crime of piracy—a crime punishable with death—and that it still remained with me to clap them in irons, if I pleased, and keep them prisoners until an opportunity should arrive to hand them over to justice, charged with that offence. I added that as it appeared, however, that they, the three men in question, seemed only to have passively consented to the deed of the others, I had no desire to be severe with them; I was anxious rather to give them an opportunity of retrieving their character; and would willingly do so could I but feel assured that, separated as they would be from their more guilty comrades, they would henceforward serve me faithfully, I said that if they were prepared to do this, I, on my part, was willing to forgive them their share in the mutiny, and to treat them as though the incident had never occurred. I warned them, however, that unless they were fully prepared, not only to solemnly pledge themselves to fidelity, but also to faithfully fulfil that pledge, it would be infinitely better for them to elect to be landed on the island to take their chance with the rest; for I assured them that, should they take the pledge of fidelity, and afterwards break it, I would, upon the first symptom of insubordination, clap them in irons and hand them over to the authorities, as pirates, at the first port we might happen to touch. This address had precisely the effect upon the fellows that I desired; the mention of the word “piracy,” and the reminder of the penalty due to that crime, thoroughly frightened them; while my promise, on the other hand, of forgiveness as the reward for faithful service in the future, had all the reassuring influence that I intended it to have; and upon the conclusion of my lecture, they with one accord begged my pardon for what had already happened, and most fervently promised that I should have no cause of complaint against them in the future.
This important matter settled thus far to my satisfaction, I sent Barr and Christianssen aloft to loose the fore-topsail and topgallantsail, while Joe and the negro performed a similar duty on the mainmast, both parties receiving instructions to cast off the lashings from the staysails on their way down. While this was doing, Forbes lay out upon the jib-boom and loosed the jib and fore-topmast staysail, I busying myself, meanwhile, in casting loose the mizzen. Presently, Joe hailed from aloft that the men on shore had made their appearance on the beach; and, upon looking in that direction, I saw the whole party of them gathered there, close to the water’s edge, intently watching our movements. Just then Sir Edgar made his appearance on deck, and, with a cheery “good morning,” laughingly declared that he intended to ship for the voyage to the nearest port as an “honorary seaman,” and was ready to enter upon his duties at once. I, of course, thanked him for this kind proffer of his services, assuring him that, short-handed as we were, it would be in his power to render us invaluable assistance; and, the hands at that moment coming down from aloft, we sheeted home the topsails, and got the yards to the mastheads.
Nothing now remained but to loose our hold upon the ground, and make a start. This we could, of course, at once do by simply slipping the cable; but an anchor is altogether too useful an article to be needlessly thrown away. Many a good ship has driven ashore and gone to pieces for want of an anchor that has been slipped and not replaced; I was, therefore, very much averse to slipping in the present instance without at least trying to get the anchor. On putting the question to the others, Forbes had no doubt of our ability to do it, while the rest expressed their perfect readiness to try; we accordingly manned the windlass, and—San Domingo starting a lively “shanty”—walked the barque up to her anchor almost without an effort. Having got the cable “up and down,” we next ran up the fore-topmast staysail, and then went to the fore-braces and trimmed the head-yards for casting the ship to starboard. Just then, and in the very nick of time, Miss Merrivale came on deck, looking as bright and radiant as the morning itself; and I at once impressed her as helmswoman, stationing her at the wheel, and briefly explaining how she was to act upon the receipt of certain signals from me. She seemed quite proud at the idea that she could be really useful, and took her station at the wheel with a heightened colour and sparkling eyes, which, with her spotless white dress, trimmed with dainty lace and light-blue ribbons, her broad-brimmed hat set jauntily upon the heavy coils of her dusky golden hair, and casting a delicate shadow upon her lovely face, her hands and arms encased in long loose gloves, and her delicate feet shod in small brown shoes, made her, to my mind, the sweetest, loveliest picture that my eyes had ever rested upon. So irresistibly charming, indeed, did she look, that I with difficulty forebore from telling her so, plump and plain; and so, to avoid the committal of such an impertinence, was constrained to rush for’ard and add my weight to that of the others at the windlass handles in their efforts to break out the anchor. Fortunately for us, our windlass was an exceptionally good and powerful one; but, on the other hand, the holding-ground proved to be exceptionally tenacious; and, for a long five minutes, the cable stood straight up and down, rigid as a solid bar, defying our utmost efforts to get so much as a single additional pawl. Then an opportune puff, with a little more weight in it than the soft breathing off the land that had hitherto reached us, struck the broad expanses of our topsails, and, with a sudden jerk, the ground broke away and the anchor came home.
“Hurrah, lads! she’s away; heave, for your lives; heave, and raise the dead!” vociferated Forbes.
The windlass pawls clanked merrily, the chain came rattling in through the hawse-pipe, and the ship, gathering stern-way, began to pay off with her head to seaward. At the right moment I signed to Miss Merrivale to put the wheel hard up, while Forbes and I sprang aft to the braces and swung the yards; the ship halted, hung stationary for a moment, and then, gathering headway, gradually swept round until we had brought the island upon our starboard beam and were gliding along under the lee of its western shore. Our new voyage had begun.
The marooned men had all this time been intently watching our movements from the beach; and, from their excited actions and the way in which they closed up in a circle when they saw our canvas drop from the yards, it was apparent that they were engaged in a heated discussion of some kind. Presently, when they saw us man the windlass and heard the clink of its pawls, I observed O’Connor break from the conclave, dash his cap down upon the sand, and somewhat hesitatingly enter the water, as though about attempting to swim off to us. Whereupon, I sprang upon the rail, and, putting the whole power of my lungs into the shout, hailed him to go back, as there were sharks in the bay. I had to repeat this warning two or three times, however, before he seemed willing to heed it; and it was not in fact until the anchor was broken out of the ground and the ship was seen to be canting to seaward that he turned back and rejoined his companions. When we last saw them they were still standing upon the beach, watching our departure, and shouting to us with gestures that were eloquent of threats and curses, though we were too far distant to catch the words that they hurled after us.
Meanwhile, during the progress of these operations I had been taking counsel with myself as to the most desirable course to pursue under the circumstances in which we found ourselves. My original intention had been to proceed to Valparaiso in quest of a crew, but that intention had been arrived at under the impression that it would be necessary only to leave three or four men behind us on the island. Joe’s opinion upon the matter had, however, altered all this, and had necessitated our going to sea with a crew of only seven men, including Sir Edgar, whose assistance I felt we could only claim under circumstances of exceptional necessity. This reduced us to two watches of three men each, who might indeed suffice to handle the ship under easy canvas and during fine weather, but who could do very little with her should we happen to fall in with a heavy gale, or, still worse, a downright Pacific hurricane. Then, too, the prevailing winds in that part of the world are easterly; which placed Valparaiso well to windward, and rendered it even more difficult to fetch than San Francisco. The latter port, however, I had no desire whatever to visit under the circumstances, with such a precious cargo on board, and three men at least whose tongues it would be impossible to bridle. By the time, therefore, that the ship was fairly under way, I had come to the conclusion that my best plan would be to make for the Sandwich Islands, which were only some sixteen hundred and fifty miles distant, in a north-westerly direction, and might therefore be easily reached in a fortnight, if all went well with us. An important advantage attaching to this plan was that Honolulu, if it did not lie directly in my road to China, was nearer it than any other port, and I still considered it very essential that, in order to avoid inconvenient questions, I should take home a cargo of some sort, which might as well be tea as anything else; and although I had never visited the Sandwich Islands, I thought it probable I should there be able to pick up at least a sufficient number of men to carry us comfortably to the Canton river. As soon, therefore, as we were fairly clear of the island I set the course for the island of Oahu; the wind being at the time a four-knot breeze, well over the starboard quarter. This done, I relieved Miss Merrivale at the wheel, leaving Forbes and the other four men to continue at leisure the operation of making sail.
Meanwhile the question had arisen, “How was the cooking to be done?” and the natural reply to this seemed to be, “Set the darkie to do it.” This would have been all very well but for my passengers, who, it occurred to me, might possibly have a prejudice against having their food handled by a black man. I therefore laid the matter before Sir Edgar, who immediately consulted with his wife; and the ultimate result was that one of the maids very good-naturedly undertook the work, with San Domingo as cook’s mate, to do all the dirty work, while the other maid volunteered as steward. I was greatly distressed in my mind lest all these inconveniences should prove a serious annoyance to my good friends in the saloon; but on mentioning the matter to Lady Emily, she quickly and kindly reassured me by declaring that they looked upon the whole thing in the light of an adventure or experience of a novel kind to be made the most of.
“Besides,” she added, “a little inconvenience and privation will do us good by teaching us to appreciate our comforts more nearly at their proper value when we get them again.”
The weather looked fine, and the barometer stood high; I therefore had no hesitation whatever about packing sail upon the ship; and as everybody worked with a will, it came to pass that by noon we had not only got our anchor secured, but had also clothed the ship with every stitch of plain sail, from the royals down. Forbes was not satisfied even with that, and would have gone on to studding-sails; but I considered enough to be as good as a feast. Studding-sails are rather ungainly things to handle in a quickly freshening breeze, if one happens to be at all short-handed. I therefore determined to have nothing to do with them—the more resolutely that, as we drew away from the island, the breeze strengthened until we were reeling off our nine knots by the log.
This exceedingly satisfactory state of affairs prevailed for exactly forty hours from noon of the day upon which we left the island; the breeze remaining so steady and true that we were not called upon to touch tack, sheet, or halliard during the whole time. There was nothing, in fact, to do but simply to steer the ship; and we were already beginning to flatter ourselves that we were not only to be favoured with a pleasant passage, but that we were going to accomplish it in about half the time that I had allotted to it. Such a magnificent opportunity was not to be wasted; and I accordingly took advantage of it to have the ballast cleared away right in midships, and the gold and silver stowed there equally on each side of the keelson, and carefully concealed with matting and a quantity of dunnage; after which the ballast was trimmed back over it and everything left shipshape against the time of our arrival in port.
In hoping for a sufficiently long continuance of fine weather to carry us without break or interruption to Honolulu, however, we were reckoning without our host; for about four o’clock in the morning of our second day out, the wind began to fail us, and by eight o’clock it had fallen to a stark, glassy calm. There had been but a moderate amount of sea running, and this soon went down, leaving only a long, oily swell, upon which the ship rolled with a quick, jerky, uneasy movement. The sun rose clear and brilliant, with every promise of a fine and scorchingly hot day; but when I went on deck after breakfast to take my sights for the longitude, I noticed that the sky had lost much of its brilliant colouring, while the sun hung in it a white, shapeless blotch, instead of the dazzling orb that had risen a few hours before. This, of course, might mean nothing worse than heat; but when I went below shortly afterwards to work out my sights, I saw that the mercury had fallen a little. This, too, might only mean heat, with possibly a smart thunderstorm a little later on in the day; but, short-handed as we were, I deemed it best to be on the safe side; and accordingly, having worked out my sights, I returned to the deck, and all hands of us went to work upon the canvas, clewing up and hauling down all our lighter sails, until we had stripped the ship to topsails, courses, fore-topmast staysail, jib, and mizzen. At this stage of the proceedings another glance at the barometer showed that the mercury was still shrinking in the tube, while the atmosphere had assumed a hazy appearance that rendered it difficult to distinguish the horizon. There could no longer be any doubt that a change of weather was impending, although there was nothing at present to indicate very precisely what the character of the change was to be. We therefore went aloft, three of us on the foremast, and three on the main, and beginning with the royals and working downward, snugly stowed everything that we had previously hauled down. It was whilst we were thus engaged that an increasing uneasiness in the motion of the ship first became apparent; and looking about us for the cause, we became aware of the fact that a cross swell had begun to gather, and was slowly creeping down to us from the north-west—the sure precursor, Forbes affirmed, of a stiff blow from that quarter. In this opinion I fully agreed; still there was at that moment nothing of a menacing character in the aspect of the sky, beyond an increasing thickness of the atmosphere; and I was therefore hopeful that we should have a sufficiency of time given us to complete our preparations for the worst that could happen, before it came upon us.
The furling of the light canvas was neither a very long nor a very laborious job, and in less than an hour we were all once more on deck. The north-westerly swell had by this time gathered sufficient weight to render itself distinctly perceptible even to the eye, and, the ship having swung round broadside-on to it, she was rolling in a fashion that set all the trusses, parrels, and bulkheads creaking, the yards jerking, the patent block-sheaves squeaking, the heavy canvas flapping, the reef-points pattering, the cabin-doors rattling, and the wheel-chains clanking, so that, with the heavy wash of water along the bends and under the counter, and an occasional clatter of crockery in the pantry, quite a small Babel of sound was raised about us. The motion of the ship, however, though more violent, was not so awkward and uncomfortable as it had been, doubtless in consequence of the young swell killing the old; and still there was no sign whatever of an immediate breeze. But another look at the barometer showed that the mercury was still falling, and now at a more rapid rate. Fully convinced, therefore, that something rather more serious than a mere thunder-squall was brewing, we now went to work with a will, and, having first furled the mizzen, hauled up the courses and stowed them, leaving the ship with nothing showing but her two topsails and the fore-topmast staysail, which—as our topsails were patent-reefing—left us practically prepared for almost anything that might happen.
The haze had by this time thickened overhead to such an extent that the sun showed in it as a mere white, rayless disc, the light of which seemed to be gradually dying out; and by the time that noon had arrived the atmosphere had become so obscure that the horizon was no longer distinguishable, and I, therefore, lost my observation for the latitude. At one o’clock, when our neat stewardess summoned me below to luncheon, the mercury was still sinking, which, with the slow progress of the change that was taking place, assured me that when the outburst came, it would be something a little out of the common. Luckily, we had plenty of sea-room, and a thoroughly staunch little ship under our feet; I therefore looked forward to the impending conflict with tolerable equanimity.
At length, just as I had completed my hasty lunch, there occurred a sudden but perceptible darkening of the atmosphere which seemed to indicate that the expected change was now imminent, and, springing up the companion-way to the deck, I found a most extraordinary scene awaiting me. The thickness that had hitherto pervaded the atmosphere had vanished, as if by magic, leaving the air astonishingly clear and transparent right to the boundary of the horizon, and revealing a vast expanse of dense, livid, purple-grey cloud, which had overspread the north-western half of the heavens, and was at the precise moment passing over and shutting out the sun from view. The edge of the cloud was as straight and sharply defined as though it had been trimmed with a knife, and it divided the firmament into two almost equal portions, the larger of which was a beautiful expanse of clear, serene, unclouded blue; while the other hung livid and threatening above us, with the promise of a raving tornado lurking within its black bosom. Immediately overhead the colour of this immense cloud curtain was a cold, slaty blue, from whence, as the eye travelled down its expanse toward the north-western horizon, the hue became darker until where it met the water it was as black as night; while, underneath it, the sea undulated restlessly, with the writhings of an angry serpent, showing a surface as lustreless and of the same colour as molten lead. Low down in the bosom of the cloud could be seen occasional palpitating quiverings, as though the fires within it were striving to burst their way through, and presently, quite at the horizon, a flash of lightning sparked vividly out of it.
“Are the topsail halliards all ready for running, Mr Forbes?” said I.
“All ready, sir,” was the reply; and, turning away, the mate walked quietly forward, throwing the falls off the pins on his way.
A minute later I heard him telling Joe to stand by the fore-topsail halliards, and the rest of the men to lay aft to the braces, following them along the deck and stationing himself at the main-topsail halliards in readiness to let them run. At this moment Sir Edgar, with the two ladies and the children, came on deck and looked round with startled eyes upon the portentous scene; but, upon my earnest recommendation, the youngsters were at once sent below again, the ladies holding themselves in readiness to follow at a moment’s notice. Sir Edgar, however, announced his determination to remain on deck, upon the chance of his becoming useful; upon which, Lady Emily, without saying a word, went below and brought up on deck not only her husband’s, but also my own mackintosh coat—a little piece of thoughtful consideration for which I was deeply grateful, since the aspect of the weather was now such that I dared not leave the deck for a single instant.
Slowly the great cloud worked its insidious way athwart the heavens until nearly three-fourths of the firmament was obscured, yet still there was not air enough to have extinguished a burning match. Then, while the barque was lying helpless, with her head pointing directly toward the quarter from which we expected the outfly, a white mist suddenly appeared ahead, sweeping down upon us with the speed of an express train, its course along the water indicated by a long line of continuous white.
“Here comes the rain, at last!” exclaimed Forbes, turning to me and pointing ahead with one hand, as he grasped the fall of the main-topsail halliards with the other.
“Ay, and the wind with it,” I answered him, as I sprang to the wheel and whirled it hard over.
“Let go your topsail halliards! Away below, ladies, for your lives; the gale will be upon us in less than a minute. Lay aft here, some of you, and round-in upon the larboard fore-braces! Mr Forbes, get the starboard fore-topmast staysail sheets aft and well belayed, if you please. Whew! here it is; hold on, everybody!”
The rain seemed to reach us a single instant ahead of the wind, dashing vertically down upon us, for just that brief period, not in drops, but in an overwhelming deluge that I verily believe must have drowned us had it lasted; then, as the hurricane reached us in a deafening medley of sound, the sheets of water were caught and swept horizontally along with a force that it was literally impossible to face without the risk of being blinded, while the barque gathered stern-way until the water was piled up level with her taffrail, and for a few breathless seconds I was firmly convinced that it would end in our foundering, stern-foremost. The good little ship was paying off all the time, however, and presently she had swept round until we had it fairly abeam, when she laid down to it until her lee lower yardarms were dipping in the water. Then, signing to the men at the braces to haul round the head-yards, I waited until she had lost her stern-way, when I shifted the helm, putting it hard up, and she began to draw slowly ahead. The danger was now practically over, for the ship continued to pay off, and presently she righted with a sudden jerk, and went foaming away before it, with the white froth level with her hawse-pipes.
The rain was by this time over, and while all was still thick as a hedge ahead and to leeward of us, the atmosphere astern was clear, save for the spindrift and scud-water with which it was heavily loaded along the water surface. The first mad fury of the outfly was past; but, even so, it was blowing harder than I had ever seen it blow before; so hard, indeed, that I wondered at the brave way in which the close-reefed topsails withstood the tremendous strain and drag of the ship upon them. So great was this strain that I began to entertain very serious fears for the masts; and, now that it was too late, deeply regretted that I had not stripped the ship entirely bare and faced the outfly under bare poles; and it would have been a positive relief to me to have seen both topsails go flying out of the boltropes. They still held on, however; and a little later, when Forbes, having at my request gone the round of the chain-plates, and subjected them to a careful examination, reported that he could see no sign of any of the bolts drawing, I began to hope that, after all, we might pull through without any very serious damage, especially as Joe almost immediately afterwards sounded the pumps and reported that everything was right below.
We had been scudding for about an hour when the sea began to rise, and by five o’clock in the afternoon there was a very high, steep sea following us, which I foresaw would soon become dangerous. I therefore determined to watch for an opportunity, and, if possible, heave the ship to before dark. As a preliminary to this manoeuvre. I ordered the fore-topmast staysail to be hauled down; and this having been accomplished without damage to the sail, two of the men—Barr and the Swede—lay out upon the bowsprit to stow it, under the direction of the mate. This, at the moment that the order was given, seemed a perfectly simple affair, and entirely free from danger; it unfortunately happened, however—just at the moment when the sail had been made secure and the men were on the point of laying in again, as Forbes subsequently informed me—that an unusually heavy sea overtook us and, catching the barque under her counter, raised her stern high in the air, slightly pooping us, while it buried her bows and bowsprit deep in the water. Standing at the wheel, I saw what was about to happen, and was in the very act of shouting a warning to the men to hold on, when the sea curled in over the taffrail, completely burying me for the moment; and when, a few seconds later, I was able to clear my eyes of water, both men had vanished, and Forbes was running aft, crying out to me that they were overboard. I looked astern, but could see nothing of either of them; nor, in the increasingly perilous situation of the ship, dared I leave the wheel even for the brief space of time requisite to cut adrift and throw overboard a life-buoy. Forbes, however, dashed aft and did this with most commendable promptitude; after which he, with the assistance of Joe and San Domingo, lost not a moment in counter-bracing the yards, when we successfully brought the ship to on the larboard tack, with her fore-topsail aback. This done, and with Joe at the wheel, Forbes and I clambered into the maintop and peered long into the fast gathering gloom, in the faint hope that even yet we might catch sight of one or both of the missing men, and be able to do something to save them; but we never saw either of them again.