Chapter Nineteen.
On Fire In The Hold!
The wind had dropped to a calm, as I’ve mentioned, just before this; but the sea was still running high, with those heavy waves that get up in a moment in the lower latitudes as soon as it begins to blow. But I never thought of this when I plunged in to the mate’s rescue.
When I was at Dr Hellyer’s, the only two things I ever really learnt that were of any use to me in my after-life were, a substantial grounding in mathematics—thanks to “Smiley”—which subsequently made the study of navigation easy to me when Sam Pengelly put me under charge of a tutor; and, secondly, the art of swimming, the place where the school was situated and the practice of taking out the boys on the beach for the purpose every day, offering great facilities to any one with the least aptitude for taking to the water and possessed of a desire to learn how to support himself in it.
Now, therefore, I found the second of these acquirements to stand me in good stead—the consciousness of knowing how to swim, not only giving me the courage to leap over the vessel’s side after the unfortunate man, but also enabling me to decide what to do when I found myself battling with the waves on my errand of succour.
The Esmeralda’s quarter was a good height from the sea level; so, on my diving off, what with this and the impetus of my leap, I went considerably below the surface, coming up panting for breath some distance away from the ship, which, having still a little way on her, besides offering a considerable surface of hull for the waves to act upon, was drifting further and further off each instant.
I had no concern about this, though, the only impression on my mind being the necessity of getting hold of Mr Macdougall as soon as I could; and when I had recovered from the half-suffocating feeling produced by my impromptu long dive beneath the Atlantic rollers, I raised myself on the top of one of these, and proceeded to look for the first mate, who ought, I thought, to be pretty close to me.
The water struck bitterly cold, as I trod it down in order to elevate myself as much as I could and so have a wider view around, for it made my limbs feel as if cramp was coming on; but I kicked out vigorously, and the sensation passing off I began to feel more at home in the water, and as confident as if I were bathing off the shore at Beachampton—albeit I was now having a bath in the middle of the Southern ocean, with my ship almost half a mile from me by this time!
I did not see Mr Macdougall anywhere at first, so I feared that the force with which the boom sheet had come against his chest might have so injured him as to paralyse his movements when he fell overboard; but, presently, when I rose on the crest of another huge rolling billow that took me up a little higher aloft, I saw him struggling in one of the watery valleys between the ridges of the waves about half a cable’s length away to the windward of me, so that I was between him and the ship, whose sails alone now were all I could see of her from my low position in the water.
Catching sight of him, at once inspired me with fresh courage, making me as buoyant as a cork; and I faced the task before me, offering up a heartfelt prayer that I might accomplish it successfully.
“Hold up, Mr Macdougall! I’m coming to help you!” I cried out as loudly as I could, for he seemed just then, from the look of despair I saw on his face, to be on the point of chucking up his hands and allowing himself to sink to the bottom, impressed probably with the hopelessness of attempting to reach the vessel. Then, striking out with a good strong breast-stroke, which is worth all your fancy side business in rough water, I made towards him; although, having to go against the set of the sea, I found it much harder work than merely keeping myself afloat, which was all that I had previously tried to do, without actually swimming.
He did not hear my shout, being to windward; but, when I rose presently on another wave-crest nearer him, I could perceive that he saw me, from the way in which he raised one of his arms in his excitement—the effect of which was, of course, to cause his head to go under and make him believe his last hour was come.
“Help, help!” he screamed, when he got above the surface again, spluttering out words and water together; “I’m droonin’, mon—help, mon, help!”
I could hear him distinctly from my being to leeward, and as I was much nearer to him now, I cried out again to encourage him—
“Hold on, Mr Macdougall! I’ll be with you in a minute!”
Then, with half a dozen strong, sturdy strokes, aided by a wave that worked him towards me, I was by his side.
He was utterly exhausted, having, like most unpractised swimmers, pumped himself out by splashing about with short jerky movements of his hands and legs, which only wearied him without advancing him through the opposing billows or assisting him to keep up; and, on my coming up to him, as all drowning men in similar circumstances invariably do, he made a frantic clutch at me, when, if he had succeeded in grasping me, we should both have sunk to the bottom.
But I took very good care he should not touch me, for Tom Larkyns and I when at Hellyer’s used to make a practice in fun of pretending we were going down when out bathing, and the one or other of us who acted the part of rescuer would always study how to approach the feigning drowner, so as to help him effectually without incurring any risk of being pulled below the surface; so, on Mr Macdougall stretching out his clutching hands, endeavouring to get hold of me, I was quite on my guard to avoid his grip.
Diving below him, I seized him by the back of the neck, his long sandy hair, which was streaming with water, enabling me to take a firm grip.
“Don’t try to hinder me,” I cried hurriedly between breaths, for the sea was very rough, and it wasn’t easy to speak. “Keep perfectly quiet, and I’ll save you.”
The Scotsman gave a wriggle or two, but, like most of his countrymen, he had a good deal of common sense and self-command, which made him remain passive after a bit; when, throwing myself on my back, I floated, dragging his head across my body, so that he might rest awhile and recover himself before trying to swim towards the ship.
Presently he endeavoured to look round, so as to see who it was that had come to his assistance.
“Hold hard!” I said. “You mustn’t move, or I’ll have to let you go;” for, I can state, it was a difficult job supporting him in that way, and it took all my paddling to keep our united weight up.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “I ken the voice—eet’s you, Leigh, eesn’t it?”
“Yes, Mr Macdougall, it’s me,” said I. “Do you feel better now?”
But he did not answer me for a moment, although I felt a tremble go through his frame.
A moment afterwards, with what sounded like a sob, he cried out, “You brave laddie! To theenk that you of all ithers should ha’ coom to save a reckless loon lik’ me, the noo! It’s a joogement on me for me cruel leeing again’ you, boy; you’ve heapit coals o’ fire on me head!”
“Never mind that now, Mr Macdougall,” I said. “We’ve got to see about getting back to the ship, and then we can let bygones be bygones! Have you got your breath back now?”
“Eh?”
“Do you think you can manage to put a hand on my shoulder, and rest quiet in the water while I tow you along?”
“Aye, I’ll try it, laddie.”
“Mind, you mustn’t clutch hold of me too hard,” I cried; and, easying him off from my chest, I turned round again in the water.
He sank about a foot at first from the change of position, but, keeping strict heed to my injunctions, and gripping my shoulder with a grasp of iron, he was presently floating half alongside and half behind, with his head well out of the water, as I struck out to where I could still see the ship as we rose every now and then at intervals on the crests of the following waves; although, when we descended again between the intervening hollows, we seemed shut in by a wall of sea.
The pampero having blown off from the pampas inland—whence the local name for these tornadoes—had come from the westwards, and, of course, the set of the waves, even after the wind had ceased to move them, continued in a south-westerly direction, whither the Esmeralda had also been carried away from us, the exposed surface of her hull drifting her more rapidly away than such tiny atoms as we presented to the influence of the rollers. When, therefore, Mr Macdougall was so far recovered as to permit of my attempting to regain the ship, she was already quite a mile off, if not more!
As I looked at her distant sails, which came in sight when we got atop of the billows, they seemed to be gliding further and further away each fresh time that I saw them, showing that there was no wind; so, knowing that a boat would have to pull all that distance against a heavy head sea in order to fetch us, I almost despaired of our being picked up.
No one but those who have undergone a similar experience, can imagine the utter loneliness that strikes upon the heart of a solitary swimmer, struggling in the middle of the ocean for dear life. The sea never looks so terribly wide and vast as then, the sky never so far off, as he gazes upwards in piteous entreaty; while the elements appear to mock his puny efforts to reach the receding vessel containing his comrades of a moment ago, who now seem basely leaving him to perish!
These thoughts flashed through my mind as I struck out in the direction of the Esmeralda. All the sins and omissions of my past life then rose before my mental kaleidoscope, making me conscious of my unpreparedness to die, and yet want of justification to live; but I struck out bravely nevertheless, and I need hardly say, I did not whisper a word of my fears to the mate, who kept silent and motionless the while, without incommoding my efforts.
My strokes got slower and slower, for the wash of the sea over us every now and then was terribly fatiguing; for, although I was very strong for my age, and powerfully built, still the strain of supporting Mr Macdougall besides myself, was more than I was able to manage—the strongest man couldn’t have done it.
He saw this even before I did, and took away his hand from my shoulder.
“Let me bide, laddie,” he said. “You’ve doon your best to save me, but you canna do’t mair; gang awa’ and save your ain sel’.”
“No I won’t, Mr Macdougall,” I cried, stopping and treading water for a minute or two, while he imitated my example. “If I’m saved, you shall be saved; and if you drown, I’ll drown too!”
“That’s bravely said, laddie,” he replied, “but your streength will na let you bear my lumpy karkus. I’m a meesereeble sinner, ye ken, and it’s na richt as a brave lad lik’ you should lose his ain life for a worthless loon lik’ me!”
“No more of that, Mr Macdougall!” I cried, stoutly. “I made up my mind to try and save you when I jumped overboard after you; and save you now I will, with God’s help—so there’s no use trying to prevent me! Now put your hand on my shoulder again, for it’s time for us to be moving on after our rest.”
The short “spell off” from swimming had rested me, and I struck out once more with renewed vigour, my progress with the mate in tow being now much more rapid, for the sea was calming down, beginning to feel the cessation of the wind.
“We’ll reach the ship, never fear!” I said presently, seeing her still in the distance when we rose upon a wave from the watery abyss in which the previous dialogue had taken place.
“I hope so, laddie, I hope so,” said Mr Macdougall, but his words did not sound very cheering, and I went on swimming hard, saying nothing further. By-and-bye, just when my strength began to fail again, and I felt that I could never get over the distance that separated us from the vessel, I saw to my joy a large object floating near.
“Hullo!” I cried, “here’s a boat, or raft, or something in sight; cheer up, Mr Macdougall, we’re saved!”
But, he was so worn out with the exposure, and his previous efforts to keep up before I went to his assistance, that he had now almost lost the power of speech, only moaning something like “Eh, laddie?” behind me.
I saw, therefore, that I must now trust entirely to my own exertions for our joint safety—the more so since that, as the mate lost his consciousness, although still keeping hold of me in the way I had directed him, his limp, passive weight pressed me down lower and lower in the water; so, putting out all my energies for a final effort, and clenching my teeth together with grim determination, I struggled forward, swimming as hard as I could towards the floating object I had seen, and which I had caught sight of only just in time.
One stroke—two—three—and a roller throws me back again. I renew the contest—another stroke, accompanied by as vigorous a kick out as I can manage, with Mr Macdougall’s prostrate body touching my legs; and then—I clutch hold of the thing at last—hurrah!
It was a large hencoop, which used to be fixed on the starboard side of the Esmeralda’s poop; so I suppose some one must have pitched it overboard after me the moment I gave the alarm.
But, no matter when it was sent adrift or why, it now saved both our lives; for I don’t believe I could have swum a stroke further, while as for Mr Macdougall, he was already like a man dead.
There was a piece of rope lashed round the coop, and with this I at once made the mate fast to it, raising his head well up, and shouting in his ears to revive him.
In a minute or two, he opened his eyes, and appeared more like himself, a smile spreading over his face, as if in thankfulness for escaping death.
As for me, I was as right as a trivet now that I had come across such a splendid raft; and, climbing on top, and balancing myself so as not to let it lurch over, I proceeded to look for the ship—which I had almost forgotten while striving to reach this nearer haven of refuge.
No sooner, however, had I mounted the hencoop, which floated nearly a foot above the surface, even with my weight on it—for it was a big piece of woodwork, with plenty of timber in it, and as light as a cork—than I felt a faint current of air blowing in my face from a direction quite opposite to that of the drift of the waves, the tops of which now began to curl and break off.
“Hullo, the wind has changed!” I sang out to Mr Macdougall, as he looked up at me to hear my report; and then, glancing round, there I saw the Esmeralda, with her yards squared, approaching us rapidly, the breeze having caught her up long before it reached us.
I could have shouted aloud for joy.
“Cheer up, Mr Macdougall!” I said, repressing my emotion as much as it lay in my power. “The ship is making for us, and we’ll be on board again in a brace of shakes.”
“Nae, ye’re jookin’, laddie!” he cried despairingly. “She’ll never reach us ’fore dark.”
“Aye, but she will, though,” I replied, as she was nearing us so fast that I could now see her hull, which had before been invisible; and, almost as I spoke the words, she rose higher and higher, until I could make out an object at the mast-head like a man on the look-out for us and signalling, for I could see his arms move.
“Hurrah! she’s coming up fast now!” I cried, to convince Mr Macdougall; when, seeing my excitement, he at last believed the good news, the effect on him being to cause him to burst into a passion of tears, of which I took no notice, leaving him to recover himself.
Presently, I could not only perceive the Esmeralda, but a boat also ahead, to which the man I had noticed in the foretop was making motions.
“We’re all right now, Mr Macdougall,” I said.
“I thought they wouldn’t desert us! They have launched a boat, and it is pulling towards us now. Let us give them a hail; raise your voice, sir—one, two, three—now then. Boat ahoy!”
The mate did not help the chorus much, his voice being too weak as yet, and his lungs probably half full of salt water; but still, he joined in my shout, although those in the boat were too far off to hear it.
“We must hail them again,” I said, “or else they’ll pass to windward of us. Come, Mr Macdougall, one more shout!”
This time our feeble cry was heard; and a hearty cheer was borne back down on the breeze to us, in response, the men in the boat pulling for us as soon as they caught our hail.
In another five minutes, it seemed, but perhaps it was much less—the tension on one’s nerves sometimes making an interval of suspense appear much longer than it really is—the Esmeralda’s jolly-boat was alongside our little raft, with the two of us tumbled into the stern-sheets, amidst a chorus of congratulations and handshakings from Jorrocks, who was acting as coxswain; and, before we realised almost that we were rescued, we were safe on board the old ship again.
It was all like a dream, passing quite as rapidly!
The skipper, when I climbed the side ladder which had been put over for us, assisted up by a dozen pairs of willing hands, almost hugged me, and the crew gave me three cheers, which of course gratified my pride; but, what I valued beyond the praises bestowed on me for jumping overboard after Mr Macdougall—which was a mere act of physical courage which might have been performed by any water-dog, as I told Jorrocks—was the consciousness that I had made a friend of one who had previously been my enemy, returning good for evil. It was owing to this only, I fervently believe, that my life was preserved in that perilous swim!
Mr Macdougall was ill for some days afterwards, the shock and exposure nearly killing him; still, before the end of the week he was able to return to duty, a much changed man in every respect. Thenceforth, he treated the men with far greater consideration than previously, and he was really so painfully humble to me that I almost wished once or twice that he would be his bumptious, dogmatic old self again. However, it was all for the best, perhaps, for we all got on very sweetly together now, without friction, and harmony reigned alike on the poop and in the fo’c’s’le.
The south-easterly wind, which had sprung up so fortunately for our rescue, lasted the Esmeralda until she had run down the coast of Patagonia to Cape Tres Puntas, some three hundred and twenty miles to the northward of the Virgins, as the headlands are called that mark the entrance to the Straits of Magellan.
Of course, our skipper did not intend to essay this short cut into the Pacific, which is only really practicable for steamers, as the currents through the different channels are dangerous in the extreme, and the winds not to be relied on, chopping round at a moment’s notice, and causing a ship to drop her anchor in all sorts of unexpected places; but he intended to go through the Straits of Le Maire, instead of going round Staten Island, and thus shorten his passage of Cape Horn in that way.
However, when, on our fifty-ninth day out, we were nearing the eastern end of Staten Island, the wind, which had of late been blowing pretty steadily from the northward of west, hauled round more to the southward, and being dead against the Le Maire channel, we were forced to give the island a wide berth, and stand to the outside of it.
It was fine light weather, with clear nights, all the time we had been sailing down the coast; for we could see the Magellan clouds, as they are called, every evening. These are small nebulae, like the Milky Way, which occupy the southern part of the heavens, immediately above Cape Horn, whose proximity they always indicate.
Shortly after our passing Staten Island, however, a change came, the wind blowing in squalls, accompanied by snow and sleety hail, and the sea running high as it only can run in these latitudes; but still, everything went well with us until we were about 55 degrees South and 63 degrees West, when a violent gale sprang up from the north-west.
Everything was hauled down and clewed up, the ship lying-to under her reefed main-topsail and fore-topmast staysail, and Captain Billings was just saying to me that I was now going to have “a specimen of what Cape Horn weather was like,” when I noticed Mr Macdougall—who had been making an inspection of the ship forwards—come up the poop ladder with his face much graver than usual, although, as a rule, his expression of countenance was not the most cheerful at any time.
“Whatever is the matter with Mr Macdougall?” I said to Captain Billings. “I’m certain something has happened, or he would not look so serious!”
“Bless you, Martin, you mustn’t judge by his phiz. I daresay the men have only been skylarking in the fo’c’s’le, and it doesn’t please him.”
But it was something far more important than that which had occasioned the gravity of the mate’s face, as the skipper soon heard; for, on Mr Macdougall coming up close to us, he whispered something in the skipper’s ear which made him turn as white as a sheet.
“Martin, Martin,” he said to me, dropping his voice, however, so that the men might not hear the terrible news before it was absolutely necessary to tell them, “the coals are on fire in the main hold!”