The call was readily responded to, in spite of the threats of the infuriated captain; and though the flames were now heard roaring below, and were even visible in some parts, the after-deck was still uninjured; and from thence the boats were lowered. Arthur and Jack went up to the men to request that a boat, or at all events seats in one of the boats, might be given to their party, who would be willing to reward the men for any trouble they occasioned. The insolent mate, who seemed to have assumed the command of the rest, laughed at the request.
"Charity begins at home!" cried he. "We have no places to spare. Come on, my lads! lower the biscuit and the brandy casks. I'll manage the strong box. Out of my way, gentry. If you say another word we'll pitch you all into the sea—men and women."
"There's no hope of our getting a boat to ourselves, Mr. Arthur," said Jack, "for they 're all afloat now, and they'll soon have them off; so I would say, if you'd help a bit, we should set about getting up a raft as fast as we can—here are plenty of spare spars about."
When Markham saw the men preparing to forsake the vessel, he became more furious than ever, and seizing the mate by the collar, he swore he would have him put in irons. But his attempts were useless against the powerful villain, who flung him on one side like a noxious reptile; and the rest of the remorseless wretches, to rid themselves at once of the opposition of the violent drunkard, hurled him down into the flames, which were already bursting through the crevices of the deck.
"I can't stand that," cried Wilkins, one of the sailors, coming up to Jack; "I'se not the chap to turn my back on my comrades; but I've never committed wilful murder, and I'll just cut away from a gang of such deep-dyed rogues, and join ye, my honest fellow. Come, I'se ready to lend a hand."
A helping hand was truly desirable in their extremity of distress; but Mr. Mayburn shrank from the fierce, rough aspect of the convict sailor, and besought Arthur, in a low tone, to reject any association with crime and infamy.
"Be satisfied, my dear father," answered he, "I will do nothing unadvisedly; but if this man shrinks from evil and turns to good, how shall we excuse ourselves if we force him back to destruction? Besides, it is now too late; see, the first boat has already deserted the ship."
With loud cheers, the most daring of the crew headed by the mate, rowed off in the long boat, and were soon lost in the darkness that shrouded all except the fearful space around the burning ship. The second boat followed, the hardened men turning a deaf ear to the entreaties of the passengers whom they had abandoned on the wreck. They refused even to aid them in lowering their hastily-constructed and unsafe raft, but laughed and sneered at the rude workmanship.
But the flames, fed by the hogsheads of tallow in the hold, now blazed up through the cabin windows, and bursting through the decks, ran along with fatal rapidity, momentarily threatening the distressed family with a dreadful fate. It was now that the cool prudence and skill of their faithful friend Jack rescued them. His observing eye had noted the means adopted by the sailors; he had tools and appliances; he arranged and divided the labor, of which even the women had their share; and the rude raft was at length successfully lowered. A few necessaries were hastily thrown upon it, including a cask of biscuit and one of water, which Wilkins at great hazard had obtained; he had also brought up a small barrel of rum, but Arthur peremptorily refused to take it, and, to end all discussion, flung it into the sea, and firmly told Wilkins, he would rather leave him to perish on the burning ship, than carry him away with such a temptation to evil.
The man grumbled unavailingly, but at last returned to his duty. Nothing more could be secured, except a few ropes, and spars, with some tools to repair the raft. Then a spare sail was cast over the stowage, and, one after another, Mr. Mayburn and the trembling women were let down; the active boys quickly followed. Jack and Wilkins were the last to descend from their perilous position, where they had been so surrounded by the flames, now crawling up the masts, that Margaret dreaded every moment they should fall victims; but they happily alighted on the lumbering raft in safety. Then oars were taken up, and no time was lost in pushing off as far as possible from the ill-fated Golden Fairy; nor did they pause even to look round till they were at a safe distance, when they stood off for a few minutes to contemplate the splendid and frightful spectacle.