Before I could recover breath to say a word, the bosun’s chair was swiftly sliding along the hawser, on its way back to the barque; and presently, after some apparent delay and hesitation on the part of those aboard the doomed vessel, it swung off her taffrail, on its return journey, with a man seated in it. Swiftly the chair traversed about a third of the distance between the two vessels, and then it was overtaken by and deeply buried in the heart of an oncoming sea, even as I had been. For a few breathless seconds the chair and its occupant were lost to view; then, as the ship surmounted the wave, the chair again appeared; but it was empty; its late occupant had vanished! There was a cry of dismay as this became manifest, and with one consent everybody craned over the rail and peered down into the leaping water, in the hope of discovering the missing man, while a few of the smarter hands on the forecastle sprang for rope’s-ends, which they quickly coiled and stood by to heave to him, should he reappear. But he never did; and after watching for a full two minutes he was given up, and the chair was again hauled aboard the barque. A further delay now took place, no one seeming to have the courage to undertake the short but terrible passage; at length, however, a man stepped forward and placed himself in the chair, and the journey began. Half the passage was accomplished ere he was overtaken, when, like the rest of us, he was submerged for a few awful seconds; and when next we saw him he was just in the very act of falling from the chair, having apparently been dragged out of it by the fierce, sweeping rush of the sea. Shouts of horror at this fresh disaster, and of encouragement to the man, at once arose, in the midst of which I seized the end of a good long coil of line which a man was holding ready to throw, and, quickly tying a bowline therein, threw the bight over my shoulder, poised myself for a dive, waiting, with one foot on the topgallant rail, to see just exactly what was happening, before taking the leap. The unfortunate man sank, upon striking the water; but presently the man beside me sang out “There he is!” pointing at the same time down at the water about thirty feet from our bows; and, peering down, I at length caught sight, indistinctly, of what looked like a human form, twisting and writhing a few feet below the surface. I instantly dived, and the next moment found myself within arm’s reach of the man, whom I seized by the hair and dragged to the surface, when all that I had to do was to fling my arms about his body, and hold on like grim death, Murgatroyd and his people at once undertaking the rather delicate task of getting us both safely inboard. This was soon accomplished; but meanwhile the bosun’s chair hung stationary midway between the two vessels, our people seeming doubtful of the utility of proceeding further.
But there was no time to lose if the remaining Frenchmen were to be rescued—for it was perfectly evident to everybody that the barque could not possibly float much longer—so, shrewdly guessing at the source of the inaction, I requested Murgatroyd to haul the chair aboard; and, this being done, I seated myself in it and requested them to haul me across to the barque. Twice was I caught by the sea during this journey, and each time it seemed that I emerged at the precise moment when, it would have been impossible to resist the drag for even another second; but I reached the barque safely and, at once scrambling out of the chair, proceeded to despatch the Frenchmen in rotation: the task proving less difficult than I had expected, my voluntary journey to them seeming to have inspired them with fresh courage.
At length, by dint of lashing the weaker men into the chair, and earnestly cautioning the strong ones to hold on with all their might, I succeeded in securing the passage of the entire remainder of the Frenchmen to the City of Cawnpore; and then came the task of effecting my own retreat. Of course this could have been accomplished by means of the hawser and the bosun’s chair; but this would have involved the loss of the hawser and all the hauling-gear attached—which it would have been necessary to cut away. I thought it a pity to inflict this loss upon the ship, merely to save myself the discomfort of being hauled through the water from one ship to the other, so as soon as the last Frenchman was safely aboard the City of Cawnpore I proceeded to cut and cast adrift the hawser from the barque’s mizenmast, and a few minutes later the massive rope’s-end flew overboard, quickly followed by the heaving-line, in the end of which I had knotted a bowline for my own accommodation. I had just thrown this bowline over my shoulder, and was watching the coils of the line go leaping overboard, one after the other, as the rescuing ship went drifting rapidly to leeward, when a perfect mountain of a sea came roaring down upon the wreck, sweeping unbroken in over her bows and right aft until it reached the front of the poop, against which it broke with terrific violence, smashing in the entire front of the structure, as I judged by the tremendous crashing of timber that instantly followed. Checked for the fraction of an instant by its impact with the poop, the sea piled itself up in a sort of wall, and then came surging and foaming along the deck toward me. I saw that it would inevitably sweep me off my feet, so, to avoid being dashed against the poop rail, I unhesitatingly leapt overboard, and, while still under water, felt the weight of the sea falling upon me that I had jumped overboard to avoid. The pressure was as that of a mountain, and it drove me downward until the light dwindled to a sombre green twilight, while the whirling water seemed to clasp me about as with a thousand arms, flinging and dragging me hither and thither but ever downward, until I could hold my breath no longer, when with a great irresistible gasp my lungs filled with water, darkness and silence profound and impenetrable shut me in, a thousand quaint, fantastic fancies thronged my brain, and—I knew no more.
Chapter Four.
The catastrophe.
My next sensation was that of pain—burning, stabbing, racking pain, of so excruciating a character that I incontinently groaned aloud. Then, as though in response to my groan, I heard—vaguely, and without any immediate comprehension of the meaning of the words—a voice say:
“There, I think that will do, General; he is in pain, now, thank God!—which means that he is coming round—and there is every reason to hope that he will pull through. Thanks for your valuable assistance. I can manage single-handed, now. You might make it known that Mr Conyers shows signs of returning consciousness, and that I have every hope of saving him. I fancy the intelligence will be not altogether unwelcome to at least one of the cuddy party.”
“By Gad! yes; I think I know who you mean. I’ll make a point of telling the news in her hearing,” was the reply. “Are you sure there is nothing else that I can do, doctor?”