Up tumbled the crew, the boat was lowered, and in two minutes more they had dropped astern, and were pulling with might and main for the now distant life-buoy. The storm had by this time passed over, save an occasional flash of lightning. For fully ten minutes, each time we rose on the crest of a great wave, we could distinctly see the life-buoy’s light, burning bright and beacon-like, away to leeward of us; then it flickered feebly, and finally went out.
“Gracious heavens!” exclaimed the Captain, “that light was never extinguished: it has gone out.” Five minutes, ten, fifteen minutes elapsed in dead silence. We leant over the bulwarks, and could feel our hearts throbbing against them, as we peered into the darkness and listened for the slightest sound; only an occasional glimmer played along the horizon, only now and then the splash of a breaking wave. Hours passed by, and still no signal from the deep, to tell us aught of life was there; and all that long dismal night, rockets were let off, bluelights burned, and big guns fired. But the sea gave never a sign. How anxious we all were! No one had a thought of retiring. The captain spent his time in alternately pacing frantically up and down the deck, and in diving down below,—we all knew for what. At last he wept like a child, and tore his hair out in handfuls. I felt sorry for him at first, until I heard him curse his own evil fate, because his fourteen years’ service would all be lost. It was self not the poor men he was thinking of.
But the longest time has an end, and morning came at last, and just as the horizon was becoming dimly visible through the rising mist, and silence was reigning fore and aft—for both men and officers were tired out with suspense and long watching—we were all startled and rendered as wide awake as ever we were in our lives. For, borne along on the morning air—breeze it could hardly be called—came a faint shout. One moment all hands listened: it was repeated.
“Shout, my lads,” cried the captain, all his manhood returning at once; and such a ringing cheer was sent over the waters, as only could proceed from the lungs of Britain’s sailors.
[15]My! how every face brightened; and, my! how every eye glanced and glittered, as that boat loomed out from the fog. She was soon alongside, all hands were safe, and the first on board was the skipper’s imp. There was one old sailor who had been very quiet all the night, but who now burst into such sobbing as I never heard before. The poor man’s son had been in the boat.
Did we splice the main-brace? Rather. We spliced it on deck, and we went below to the ward-room and spliced it again; in fact that main brace took a good deal of splicing, then we turned in and slept till noon, and I dreamt I was spliced myself.
Ship on Fire.
If I remember rightly, we were somewhere in lat. 17° South, and a good way off land. We had been cracking on all the forenoon under steam, after a Northern slave-ship, which we had finally boarded, captured, and taken in tow. A fine pair of heels she had shown us too. We had to burn hams to get within shot of her. But we did at last, and there she was, with a prize crew on board, and the fiery old Arabs glaring like evil spirits at us as they leaned over her taffrail. A breeze had sprung up towards four o’clock, and the orders were given to bank fires and set sail. I was sitting in the ward-room reading, when—
“Look Jim!” I heard some one on deck remark. “Where is that thundering old cat going to now?”
“Bedad then,” said Jim, “but he’s taking the rigging like a good one anyhow. Shouldn’t wonder now if he was going to give us another spache.”