Chapter Seven.
On sailed the boat. The black was the only person who kept his eyes constantly moving about him. He might have suspected treachery. Suddenly his whole manner seemed changed. He jumped to his feet clapping his hands. “A sail—a sail,” he cried. Then he sat down and wept. All looked eagerly in the direction towards which he pointed. A large barque was crossing their course, but how could they hope that a small boat could be seen by the people on board at that great distance? They got out the oars, but their strength was insufficient to go through the movements of rowing, much less to urge on the boat. All they could do was to sit still and wait, watching with intense eagerness every movement of the stranger. Picture them at this juncture. On, on they sailed. Every one felt that if they missed the vessel their fate was sealed. A simultaneous groan escaped their bosom. She altered her course, and was standing away from them. One of the men threw himself down into the bottom of the boat, prepared to die. Still Jack kept his eye on the barque. “See—see dere!” exclaimed Sambo. The barque had hove to. Why, they could not tell, at the distance she was away. She had done so without reference to them. Perhaps some one had fallen overboard. How anxiously did they wait!
As they were looking a spout of water rose in the air. “Whales! whales!” cried Sambo. “See dere is anoder.” Ere long they descried a boat rapidly approaching, urged on by some unseen power. She dashed by them, her bows covered with foam.
Well might her crew look with surprise and horror at the hapless beings in the Indiaman’s boat. Jack and Sambo and the mate waved their hands, their voices were too weak and hollow to be heard. “We’ll come to you—we’ll come to you, poor fellows!” shouted the crew of the whale boat. It was long, however, before the whale to which the boat was fast rose to the surface, and lashing the sea with its tremendous tail, spouted out its life blood and died. The whaler had made sail after her boat, and now seeing the Indiaman’s boat, took Jack and his companions on board.
“Who sent that whale towards us when we were almost dead?” thought Jack; as often as he asked the question the answer came: “It was God in His great mercy guided the senseless fish that we might be saved.”
There were but five survivors. One man, he whose ominous looks had made the mate draw his pistol, had not lived to see the approach of the whale boat. Jack and his companions were treated not unkindly on board, though their life was a rough one. The whaler was an American, outward bound, and five fresh hands when their strength returned were no unwelcome addition to her crew. Their early success put all hands in good humour, and several sperm whales were killed before they reached their usual cruising ground on the borders of the Antarctic ice fields. Jack was soon initiated into the mysteries of blubber cutting and boiling, and as the dirt and oil-begrimed countenances of the men were seen as they moved around their seething cauldrons, amid bright flames and dense masses of smoke, they looked like spirits of evil summoned to labour by some diabolical agency.
Several weeks thus passed by, when the whaler with a full cargo was once more steered northward. All hands were exulting in their success. The weather had been fine. There was every prospect of a prosperous voyage. Cape Horn had been rounded, and they were at no great distance from the coast of South America. Before long, however, a change took place; thick weather came on, and for many days not a glimpse of the sun was obtained. The master too was taken ill, and the first mate had proved himself a bad navigator. The result was that the ship was out of her reckoning. A gale sprung up, which, shifting to the eastward, increased to a hurricane.
The belief was that the ship was a long way from the coast.
It was night. The darkness was intense, such as can be felt. The gale had somewhat abated, and it was hoped that canvas might soon be got on the ship to take her off the land, when that terror-inspiring cry arose from forward:—“Breakers ahead!” In tones of dismay it was repeated along the decks. “There’s a watery grave for most of us then,” exclaimed the old boatswain, near whom Jack was standing. Scarcely had he spoken when the ship struck, and the wild sea made a clean breach over her, washing many poor fellows to destruction. Groans of horror, shrieks of despair rose on every side; but the sounds were quickly silenced by the roar of the waves, the crashing of the falling sails, and the wrenching asunder of the stout timbers. Jack clung to the bulwarks, and as they gave way he found himself borne onward with them through the foaming breakers into comparatively smooth water. The force of the wind still drove him on till he felt his feet touching the hard sand. Disengaging himself from the pieces of wreck, before the waters returned, he was beyond their reach.
He sat down—he thought—how good God had been again to save him, and he tried to shape his thoughts into prayer; but there had been nothing like prayer on board the whaler, and he could not pray. For some time he sat almost stupified; then he roused himself and listened for the sound of some human voice to tell him that others had escaped from the wreck. “I should go and help them if they have,” he exclaimed, starting to his feet. He ran along the beach calling out: a voice replied. He at the same moment came across a coil of light rope. Carrying it on his arm he hove the end of it towards the spot whence the voice came. Twice he hove, and had again to haul it in. The third time it was seized. He dragged on shore one of the whaler’s crew. Jack placed him out of the reach of the waves and ran on, for he thought that he heard another person calling. Again his rope was of use. He discerned through the darkness a large piece of the wreck. Three men were clinging to it. One of them was Sambo. Together they continued their search for others, venturing as far into the water as they dared. Another man was found struggling to gain the shore. He was almost exhausted. By himself he could not have succeeded. Jack was truly glad to find his old friend Mr Collins, the mate of the Indiaman. After a little time he also recovered, and together the survivors continued their search. In vain they searched during the night. The next morning not a particle of the wreck was found hanging together. Some dead bodies were washed on shore, and several articles also of which the shipwrecked mariners stood much in need were picked up, casks of provisions, clothing, tools, and some arms and powder and shot. They had thus no fear of starving. As soon as they had collected whatever the waves threw up they climbed to the top of the cliffs to look around them. They were evidently in an uncivilised part of the country, though it was well wooded and watered. Their great fear was from the Indians, a fierce race thereabouts. The mate, who naturally took the lead, told them that they might be able probably to reach some of the Spanish settlements, and they resolved to set off in search of them. It was necessary, however, that they should lay in a store of provisions, and recover their strength for the journey. There were numerous large trees and rocks scattered about the shore, and the shipwrecked seamen soon discovered a cave in one of the rocks, where they could shelter themselves from the wind and rain, and in which they might lay up their stores.