Nothing could be done now but wait patiently to see what was the will of God concerning them. It was most obvious that if the kelp let them through, the ship must be battered to pieces against those precipices, where the sea was at least twenty fathoms deep alongside the rocks. Anchoring was out of the question—seamanship, in fact, was entirely discounted. And so, feeling all this, Captain Hampden, again raising his voice, summoned all hands aft. ‘Boys,’ he said, when they had gathered around him, ‘this looks like our last night of life. Now we’ll pray that God will let us live, but specially we’ll pray that if He doesn’t see fit to grant us any more life we may die clean an’ wholesome. An’ whether we live or die we’ve done our best, and that’s a great comfort.’ So holding on in all sorts of attitudes, those hardly bestead men prayed with the skipper, full of faith that whatever the outcome of the night might be, it would be all right. They finished and were dismissed to their quarters, while the gale howled ever louder, and the awful shadow to leeward deepened.
CHAPTER XV
A DOUBLE DELIVERANCE
Hour after hour wore on, while many of the men, in spite of their fears, slept soundly. Rube, indeed, seemed unable to realise that there was any danger at all. Having joined in the general prayer for deliverance he appeared to regard the matter as quite settled, and as not requiring any more care on his or anyone else’s part except the Father’s. Most of the men, over-borne with weariness both of body and brain, slept fitfully in many uncouth attitudes, some half reclining upon banks of grease-exuding blubber gently heaving with the motion of the ship, others twisted into comfortable corners, apparently impervious to cold, or wet, or fear. But the Captain, more at peace with his surroundings than he could understand, and dimly, subconsciously wondering why, sat on the little deck aft listening to the angry roar of the baffled sea far outside the engirdling groves of kelp. The sullen boom of the rollers against that unseen mass to leeward, the hissing, swishing sound of the great leaves restlessly sliding over each other and against the ship, and the ever-deepening roar of the gale overhead made up a concert truly terrifying in its effect upon the heart. And yet Captain Hampden felt little terror. Knowing his utter helplessness, he was driven to as utter a dependence upon a kindly Power which he knew was not merely capable of saving his ship and all hands, but was always benevolently disposed towards man, and never more so than in his hour of deepest distress.
So he sat calmly and wished for the day. Several times he made the beginning of a move, feeling that action of some kind, even though only in the direction of clearing the decks, would be better for all than quietly enduring this season of suspense. But each time he realised how hopeless such an attempt would be in the present condition of the deck and the state of all hands. Therefore, he waited with wonderful patience until the cook’s head appeared at his side above the break of the house, and a deferential voice said, ‘Wun’t yo hab drop ob hot coffee, sah? I got it yah, all ready, sah.’ ‘Yes, cook, think I will. Jest wut I ben needin’ fur a long time ’n’ didn’t know it.’ And as he took the cup from the delighted black man he thought how good a thing was service done whole-heartedly, and how well and willingly it was rendered by such men as these. A smile may rise at the thought of any shipmaster considering his cook like this, but it would be the smile of ignorance. For if a cup of cold water given in the Master’s name shall in no wise lose its reward, there is little doubt that a cup of coffee on a bitter night, prepared with much difficulty, by a man who, although only doing his duty, is doing that duty with all his might, will in like manner gain him a reward. I remember when I was lamp-trimmer on board the Wentworth, running between Sydney and Melbourne, I used to be called at daybreak to duty. After taking in the lamps, my first thought was to make a cup of coffee—it being some time before the cooks were at work. And it was my practice, though in no sense my duty, to take a cup and a piece of toast up to Mr. Wallace, the chief officer, on the bridge, whom I used to picture as burdened with the care of the ship up there in the bleak night. He was a brusque, almost coarse, sailor, but I know he was grateful. A word of thanks from him set my heart dancing (I was barely fifteen years of age), but my chief reward was in the knowledge of having done a kindness. And this is the spirit that moves the world to-day. Everyone should take courage, whatever their creed, in the thought that the Christ ideal, which is unselfishness raised to its highest power, is becoming universal, and that the many exceptions have no contradictory force at all.
By the time Captain Hampden had finished his coffee he found that there was a perceptible lightening of the gloom around, although the wind had increased so much that it was evident, unless something was speedily done to ease the strain upon them, the masts would certainly go. So, rising stiffly to his feet, the skipper sought the mate, finding him ready, standing near the compass, and apparently endeavouring to get a bearing of the land, which was becoming more visible, and, if possible, more horribly threatening in appearance as it did so. ‘Good morning, sir,’ said Mr. Pease, as soon as he saw the skipper; ‘pipin’ up, ain’t she, sir?’ ‘Yaas; guess she is, an’ ef we want to carry any of our sticks eout o’ this, we’ll hev t’ git thet canvas off her as quick ’s it kin be did. I don’t think it matters much, anyway, whether she hez canvas on her or not—she can’t make much, if any, headway through this weed, an’ it looks ’s if th’ Lord wunt let her go ashore. Go ahead, Mr. Pease, git th’ rags off her, ’n’ by thet time, please God, it’ll be daylight good.’
So the mate obediently roared out his message to the crew, who responded with a phenomenal cheerfulness, clambering over those slimy, greasy masses on deck as if they cared nothing at all for the difficulty of their passage. In half an hour they had shortened her down to the three close-reefed topsails, and besides had cleared up the gear so that no ropes should be in the way of the whale-matter lying about. And having done this they stood by, waiting, oh, so anxiously, the whole of that ship’s company; with just one exception—Rube. He it was who wore always a beaming smile, and sidled up to first one and then the other with some cheering word. Just as a doctor who is always hoping for the best, while taking precaution against the worst, is the most likely to pull his patient through, so this Divine teaching of cheerfulness in the presence of dangerous and depressing circumstances does really seem to win the battle before it is fought. In any case, if the warrior does fall he falls with his face to the foe, and with the high satisfaction thrilling his soul that he has behaved in that last dread hour as became a man.
To this little waiting crowd came suddenly the blessing of light. As if some mighty angel’s hand had grasped the swart veil of cloud closing them darkly in, and had rent it in sunder from horizon to zenith, the whole western quadrant of the sky was suddenly lighted up by the brilliant beams of the newly risen sun. So splendid was this enlightening that for a few moments all hands stood awe-stricken, watching the rapidly glancing sabres of glorious flashing colour thrusting the encompassing gloom through and through. Then as if by one impulse all turned to leeward to see how near was the fateful rock. As if it had just leapt out of the gloom, Gough Island was revealed, within a mile (which looks at sea less than a hundred yards does ashore), and every heart for a moment stood still. But after that tribute to human weakness hope instantly reasserted her lovely self. Had they not been kept from perishing all through the blackness of that terrible night? Was it not certain that they were now no nearer the land than when they last saw it clearly, in spite of the stress of the gale upon the ship’s broadside? Undoubtedly it was; and more—some of them began to take mental bearings and compare them with the position they could remember the previous evening, finding that at any rate if they were not gaining ground they were certainly not losing.
Suddenly the Captain shouted to the mate, ‘Mr. Pease, turn the hands to on the tryin’ out. We kain’t do nothin’ with the ship as she is, an’ we mout so well ’muse ourselves doin’ somethin’ useful.’ This pronouncement was hailed with the utmost delight by all hands, and like a swarm of ants they were soon busy cutting, slicing, mincing, boiling, and getting out the bone—so busy, indeed, as well as interested in their work, that they scarcely ever paused to look at the great precipices to leeward of them.
Meanwhile, the Captain had very carefully taken his cross bearings, and had no sooner completed the simple operation than he felt certain that his vessel was drifting south in almost imperceptible fashion. Hope revived, and he joined his workers with a heart greatly lightened. There by his tremendous exertions and cheery voice he encouraged all hands to attend to present duties, and thus exclude forebodings for the future. And two hours later when he again took his bearings his hopeful supposition became a definite certainty: she had drifted through that hindering kelp, in apparent defiance of the fateful pressure of the gale striving to thrust her on shore, quite two miles nearer safety. Now he felt impelled to shout the glad news to his splendid men who had so nobly responded to the call made upon them. So raising his voice to its fullest compass he roared: ‘She’s gettin’ eout ov it, boys. Praise God we’ll be all right yet. There isn’t any shipwreck coming off this time. She’s gettin’ raound th’ corner ov th’ island in great shape. So peg away, men—while yew’re workin’ she’s a-dreeftin’, an’ as soon ’s ever she gits clear we’ll give her every rag she’ll drag, an’ git away fr’m this uncomf’ble neighbourhood.’