And forthwith I seized my cap, and followed the captain up the companion ladder to the poop.
Upon my arrival on deck I found that we were under way once more, Mr Murgatroyd having set the fore-topmast staysail and swung the head yards; and now, with the mate in the weather mizen rigging to con the ship through the terrific sea that was running, we were “jilling” along down toward the wreck, which, from the height of the poop, now showed on the horizon line whenever we both happened to top a surge at the same moment. The entire cuddy party were by this time assembled on the poop, and every eye was intently fixed upon the small, misty image that at irregular intervals reared itself sharply upon the jagged and undulating line of the horizon, and I believe that every telescope and opera-glass in the ship was brought to bear upon it. After studying her carefully through my own powerful instrument for about ten minutes I made her out to be a small barque, of about five hundred tons register, with her foremast gone at a height of about twenty feet from the deck, her main-topmast gone just above the level of the lower-mast-head, and her mizenmast intact. I noticed that she appeared to be floating very deep in the water, and that most of the seas that met her seemed to be sweeping her fore and aft; and I believed I could detect the presence of a small group of people huddled up together abaft the skylight upon her short poop. An ensign of some sort was stopped half-way up the mizen rigging, as a signal of distress; and after a while I made it out to be the tricolour.
“Johnny Crapaud—a Frenchman!” I exclaimed to the skipper, who was standing near me, working away at her with the ship’s telescope.
“A Frenchman, eh!” responded the skipper. “Can you make out the colours of that ensign from here? If so, that must be an uncommonly good glass of yours, Mr Conyers.”
“Take it, and test it for yourself,” I answered, handing him the instrument.
He took it, and applied it to his eye, the other end of the tube swaying wildly to the rolling and plunging of the ship.
“Ay,” he said presently, handing the glass back to me, “French she is, and no mistake! Now that is rather a nuisance, for I am ashamed to say that I don’t know French nearly well enough to communicate with her. How the dickens are we to understand one another when it comes to making arrangements?”
“Well, if you can find no better way, I shall be very pleased to act as interpreter for you,” I said. “My knowledge of the French language is quite sufficient for that.”
“Thank you, Mr Conyers; I am infinitely obliged to you. I will thankfully avail myself of all the assistance you can give me,” answered the skipper.
The sea being rather in our favour than otherwise, we drove down toward the wreck at a fairly rapid pace, despite the extremely short sail that we were under; and as we approached her the first thing we made out with any distinctness was that the barque was lying head to wind, evidently held in that position by the wreck of the foremast, which, with all attached, was under the bows, still connected with the hull by the standing and running rigging. This was so far satisfactory, in that it acted as a sort of floating anchor, to which the unfortunate craft rode, and which prevented her falling off into the trough of the sea. It would also, probably, to some extent facilitate any efforts that we might be able to make to get alongside her to take her people off.