Chapter Twenty Eight.
A Voyage upon a Raft.
We had now time to look about us, and to realise our position, which—though it might easily have been worse—was certainly the reverse of enviable.
In the first place we were upon a frail raft which, well constructed though it was, could not be expected to hold long together, unless we were favoured with exceptionally fine weather. In the next place everything of which we were possessed in the shape of provisions was comprised in the four dead fowls found in the hen-coop; and of water, or any other liquid with which to quench our thirst, we had not a single drop. On the other hand the island of Saint Domingo was under our lee, at a distance of about ninety miles, and if our raft would only hold together so long and maintain the speed at which it was then travelling, we might hope to reach land in from two and a half to three days.
I laid these facts before my companions, directing their special attention to the circumstance that we had to look forward to three days of suffering from thirst, and also from hunger in a minor degree, urging them to the brave endurance of these privations, if necessary, and pointing out to them that though unfortunately we happened to be in one of the least-frequented of the passages, there was a chance, although a somewhat slender one, of our being picked up at any hour, and I wound up by reminding them that, even on that frail raft, we were as much under the protection of Him who holds the waters in the hollow of His hand as we should be were we safe on shore. At the doctor’s suggestion we then all knelt down, while he offered up a brief but earnest prayer for our deliverance. We all felt much more hopeful after this short religious exercise, and went cheerfully about our work of examining the raft, now that we had daylight with us once more, with the object of ascertaining whether it was possible to make any improvement in it or not. The examination, careful and minute though it was, was soon over, and we came to the conclusion that no improvement was possible with the materials at hand, and that, if the lashings did not give way and the weather continued fine, we had not much to fear.
Hawsepipe had rigged steering-gear to the raft by lashing a piece of deck-plank, some twelve feet long, to the schooner’s foremast in such a way that half of it was immersed in the water and acted as a rudder, while the other half slanted in over the raft and served as a tiller; it was, in fact, a rude substitute for a steering-oar. This answered its purpose perfectly, in so far as that it enabled us to keep the raft dead before the wind; but when I tried the experiment of edging a couple of points or so to the southward of the direction in which the wind blew, with the view of reaching the Saint Domingo shore as quickly as possible, I found that the speed of the raft lessened sensibly, and that she began to drive slightly sideways through the water—she would not, in short, travel in any direction except dead before the wind, and we were therefore compelled to rest content with that, and to devote all our energies to the most careful steering, so as to run straight to leeward and so get the greatest possible speed out of her.
We steered in spells of two hours each, the rest seeking shelter from the sun’s rays in the shadow of the sail, the seamen trying to pass away the time as much as possible in sleep. As the morning wore on, the heat became very great and our thirst grew with it, but we managed to stave off its worst pangs by pouring sea-water plentifully over each other, as we sat in our clothes. About noon we thought of dinner, but, hungry as we by that time were, we scarcely fancied our fare, which was one of the dead fowls, to be eaten raw of course, since we had no means of cooking it. Finding that the rest were equally as squeamish as myself in this respect, I suggested and it was agreed that the fowls should remain untouched until we felt hungry enough to eat the uncooked flesh with a relish. Toward sun-down we had a most unwelcome addition to our company, in the shape of three sharks, which suddenly made their appearance close under the stern of the raft, maintaining their position, at about three yards distance, with a perseverance which was worthy of a better cause. The size of their dorsal fins, which were carried well out of the water, assured us that our followers were sharks of the largest size, and enabled us to form a pretty fair idea of what would be our fate should any of us be unfortunate enough to fall or be washed off the raft.
A keen lookout was maintained during the whole of that day, but no sail was seen, and at length the sun went down in a cloudless sky, giving us an assurance of the continuance of fine weather.
I anxiously marked the position of the luminary when he reached the horizon, and saw, with a heart-sick feeling which I cannot describe, that we were—and had probably been all day—sailing a course about W.S.W., or two points more to the northward than I had hoped. This was a most serious matter, since it would throw us much farther to the westward, and necessitate our going a much greater distance, probably nearly double, before we could possibly reach land; and I began, for the first time, to fear that we might possibly miss Saint Domingo altogether. And I knew that if we did that we might give ourselves up for lost, as I could not entertain much hope of our being able to hold out until we should reach the Windward Channel, and even if we did, we might still fail to fall in with a ship to pick us up, in which case we should have to go on to Jamaica, which we could scarcely reach, under the most favourable circumstances, in less than a fortnight. These disquieting thoughts, however, I deemed it prudent to confine to my own breast.
About midnight my worst apprehensions as to the course of the raft were confirmed by the discovery of breakers ahead, which I knew, from the position of the “Juanita” on the previous night, could indicate nothing else than that we were running down upon the Square Handkerchief Shoal, of which I had hoped to pass clear to the southward.
We gave the raft as much starboard helm as she would take, and after a long and most anxious time succeeded in just scraping clear of the breakers, which we found were occasioned by an extensive group of rocks just awash. The sight of these rocks enabled me to identify our position, as I recognised in them the rocks which occupy the north-east corner of the shoal. We were therefore passing as nearly as possible directly across the middle of the shoal, instead of going to the southward of it, as I had hoped.
Meanwhile the pangs of hunger and thirst were steadily intensifying with us. Our tongues grew dry and hard, and the doctor’s lips began to crack, while the men could talk of nothing but the clear, gurgling brooks and sparkling cascades by the side of which they had stood in other days.
The wind had freshened somewhat during the night, and toward sun-rise a few clouds worked up to windward, the sight of which induced us for a time to hope that we might be blessed with a shower. But they passed over without dropping any of their longed-for moisture upon us, and the sun once more rose up in unclouded splendour to torture us with his scorching rays.
Our repugnance to raw fowl had by this time entirely passed away, and although upon examination our poultry turned out to be rather high, one of the defunct chickens was torn asunder, and, being divided among us with the most scrupulous fairness, was devoured in an incredibly short time.
“Ah!” exclaimed one of the men, as the last morsel of his allowance disappeared down his throat. “That’s the most tasty snack as I’ve ate for many a long day. It’s a pity there ain’t more of it. But there, I s’pose it won’t do to eat up all our wittals to oncet; let’s be thankful as we’ve had even that small mossel. I say, mates, don’t you find these here fowl-bones very sweet picking?”
“Uncommon,” answered another. “There’s a sort of a peculiar flavour with ’em that I don’t disremember to have tasted with fowl-bones when I’ve had ’em for breakfast afore.”
There was unquestionably “a sort of a peculiar flavour” with my share, but I should scarcely have referred to it with such gusto as they did, I thought.
“Now if I could only have washed my breakfast down with a pannikin of grog,” remarked a third, “I should ha’ said as I’d thoroughly enj’yed it.”
“Grog!” exclaimed the first speaker. “Grog be blowed! Whenever I’ve a glass of grog I always wants another on top of it, and so I should to-day. I’d give all the grog as ever was brewed for one good long swig at the spring which bubbles out from under the rocks behind my poor old mother’s house on Dartmoor. That is sweet water, if you like, mates.”
“’Tain’t sweeter, I know, than the water of the trout-stream in which I used to fish with a bit of twine bent on to a crooked pin, when I was a boy,” remarked another. “Many’s the time as I’ve gone down on my hands and knees upon a rock or a little bit of a shingly bar, when I’ve been hot and thirsty—as it might be now—and drunk and drunk until I could drink no more. My eyes! mates, but they was drinks, and no mistake.”
And so they rambled on, their dry lips smacking with every fresh reminiscence.
I knew that this sort of conversation would do more harm than good by intensifying the feeling of burning thirst from which they were suffering, so I cut it short by remarking,—
“By the way, lads, speaking of fishing, cannot one or another of you work up one of the nails out of those hatches into a fish-hook with your knives? The others meanwhile might get some threads out of that piece of spare canvas which we cut off the topgallant sail, and twist it up into a fishing-line.”
No sooner said than done. The poor fellows were glad of something to employ their minds and fingers upon, and went to work with avidity to carry out the suggestion.
By sunset an ordinary three-inch nail had been hammered and bent and scraped down to a very respectable substitute for a hook; while the other three seamen had each contrived to spin up about five fathoms of good strong line. Neither hook nor line, however, was ever used.
The breeze again freshened during the night, driving the raft along about two knots in the hour; and again uprose the sun in a cloudless sky.
We divided another of the dead fowls between us, but on this morning there was none of the cheerful chat which had accompanied the previous meal. The repulsive food was devoured in silence, due probably in part to the absence of any hopeful topic of conversation, and also, doubtless, to a great extent in consequence of the dry, sore, swollen sensation in the men’s throats. For my own part my throat was in such a state that it was with the utmost difficulty I succeeded in swallowing my own allowance.
Hawsepipe, the doctor, and I struck up as lively a conversation as we could, touching the probability of our soon being picked up, and I embraced the opportunity of mentioning casually that in consequence of the great amount of easting in the wind I feared we should not reach land quite as soon as I had at first anticipated. I was almost sorry immediately afterwards that I had mentioned it, when I saw the despairing look which came into the faces of my fellow-sufferers, and the yearning glances upward at the pitiless sky, which showed not the faintest fleece of cloud—not the remotest promise of a single drop of pure, fresh water wherewith to moisten our parched and baked tongues and throats. The thirst-agony now began to paint its effects upon us more and more palpably every hour; our lips being dry, black, and gashed with deep cracks; while our tongues were dry and swollen until they seemed too large for our mouths. The skin upon the faces of my companions was burnt, parched, and shrivelled by the sun, seamed in every direction by cracks, and peeling off in many places; while their eyes glowed and sparkled like coals of fire with the fierce fever which consumed them. The sharks which had stuck to us with such frightful and ominous pertinacity had their number augmented this day by the arrival of three new-comers.
“Six of ’em,” muttered the seaman who was steering the raft when the three new arrivals appeared; “that means as six out of us seven is doomed.”
Another endless day of indescribable agony—another long night of torment; and again up rose the sun in a pitiless, cloudless sky.
Oh! how fervently I longed and prayed for an overcast sky and a pelting rain, even though it were accompanied by the wildest hurricane which ever blew; the worst that could happen to us in such a case would be drowning, the prospect of which seemed to be bliss itself compared with this slow fiery torment of thirst.
On this day Tom Miles and Ned Rodgers, two of the four seamen, suddenly sprang to their feet, and with a despairing yell plunged over the side of the raft into the sea before we were aware of or could arrest their terrible intention. There was a frightful splashing in the water astern, as the sea-monsters fought over their prey; then all was quiet again. Two of the sharks had disappeared.
My companions regarded this terrible tragedy almost with indifference, and the doctor, in a weak and cracked voice which was scarcely audible, muttered something to the effect that “those two were happily out of their suffering.” Before sunset the poor fellow had followed them, and another shark had disappeared.
Some time during the night I was awakened by Hawsepipe, whose trick at the helm it was. He aroused me by giving me a feeble shake on the shoulder, and, being by this time unable to speak, raised his hand and pointed skyward. I looked up and saw that the firmament was obscured by heavy masses of cloud, which held out the promise of a speedy fall of thrice-blessed rain. I scrambled to my feet and hastened to arouse the two seamen, in order that we might take immediate measures to secure as much as possible of the priceless liquid. One of the poor fellows was in such a weak and exhausted condition that he was unable to rise; the other contrived to do so with the utmost difficulty, and we lowered down the sail, mast and all, so as to form with the canvas a receptacle for the expected blessing.
At length it came in a sudden squall of wind, with a few flashes of lightning, and for two or three minutes it poured down almost as heavily as it did on that night—oh! how many ages ago it seemed now—when the “Juanita” was destroyed. We gathered round the sail and drank greedily, recklessly, of the heaven-sent nectar; filled our hats and boots—our only receptacles—with it, and then drank and drank again as long as a drop remained in the sail. And oh! how we grudged the precious drops which poured in a stream through the thin canvas!
To describe the reviving effect which this delicious draught had upon our exhausted frames is impossible; our strength and our voices returned to us like magic, our spirits revived, and we felt like new creatures. We re-hoisted the mast and sail into its place with comparative ease, and then, with one accord, knelt down and offered our sincere and heart-felt thanks for the mercy which had been shown us in our extremity; while the raft swept cheerily away before the rising blast at almost double her usual speed.
On the following day we were again favoured with an example of the ease with which the Almighty can supply the wants of His creatures, even in such a situation as ours; for during the forenoon a shoal of flying-fish rose out of the water alongside, and passed directly over the raft, nearly a score being intercepted in their flight by our sail, and caught before they were able to flop off into the water again. I thought that any attempt to preserve them would be sure to end in failure by their quickly becoming unfit for human food, and therefore proposed that they should be at once eaten, which proposition, I need scarcely say, met with the cordial approval of my companions, and was immediately carried out. We took with them the remainder of the water which we had caught and preserved in our hats and boots, but found, to our consternation, that a great deal of it had leaked away, and the little that remained had become strongly brackish from the quantity of spray which had flown over us and mingled with it since the freshening of the breeze.
The wind remained fresh all that day and rose still higher during the following night, so that our speed gradually increased from a knot and a half to nearly four knots. The sea rose also in proportion, and this caused the raft to work to such an extent that I began to entertain serious fears as to whether it would hold together much longer. Most of the lashings had worked quite loose; but there were now only three of us, and our united strength was wholly inadequate to the tightening of them until the sea should go down.
Another night passed, another day, and no more rain had fallen; and then our sufferings returned—as it seemed to us—with tenfold intensity. Our strength went from us like water from a sieve; and when night once more closed down upon our tortured frames we abandoned ourselves, with one accord, to despair; the helm was left to itself, and the raft was allowed to steer herself as best she might. We sank down upon the hatches which formed our deck, and sought to evade in our slumbers some small portion of our horrible torments. As far as I was concerned, however, the effort was in vain; for the moment that sleep stole upon my exhausted frame visions of lakes and springs, murmuring brooks and sparkling fountains of cool, delicious, fresh water arose before me, and I suffered all the agonies of the mythical Tantalus.
At length I could endure the torment of dreaming no more, and started to my feet, went to the helm, and got the raft once more before the wind. I had scarcely done so and turned my glances astern for a moment, when, “A sail! A sail!!” I screamed.
My two companions started to their feet and hurried to my side, eagerly questioning me as to her whereabouts. I pointed her out to them. There she was, about three miles directly astern, clearly visible in the light of the young moon, which gleamed faintly upon her canvas; but—oh, misery—she was close-hauled upon the starboard tack, dead to windward, and sailing away from us. We shouted until not another sound would our parched throats utter, but it was all of course of no avail; and we were far too low in the water to attract the attention of even the sharpest lookout in that feeble light; the ship swept steadily on and at length passed out of sight below the horizon.
Then, as we sank down again in utter abandonment, how bitterly we reproached ourselves and each other for not maintaining a lookout! Had we done so, we should assuredly have made her out while still to windward of her, and could have lowered our sail until she had approached near enough to enable us to run down upon her. However, it was too late now to remind each other of that; the mischief was done; and the only thing that remained was to take care that there should be no recurrence of it.
But I will dwell no longer upon the details of those endless days and interminable nights of indescribable torture. Suffice it to say that I endured two more days and nights of suffering, during which I was only dimly cognisant of my surroundings; all my faculties were engaged in the task of wrestling with and assisting my tortured frame to bear up against the terrible anguish which consumed me; at the end of that time exhausted nature could bear no more, and relief at length came with unconsciousness.