I heard the reply given, but the noises of the ship, the shriek of the gale through the rigging, and the resounding shock of a sea that smote us upon the weather bow at the moment, prevented my catching the words; I had no difficulty, however, in gathering, from Mr Murgatroyd’s inquiry, that something had drifted within our sphere of vision, probably another vessel, hove-to like ourselves. A minute or two later, however, Mr Fletcher, the third mate, presented himself at the cuddy door and said, addressing himself to the skipper:
“Mr Murgatroyd’s respects, sir; and there’s a partially dismasted barque, that appears to be in a sinking condition, and with a signal of distress flying, about eight miles away, broad on the lee bow. And Mr Murgatroyd would be glad to know, sir, if it’s your wish that we should edge down towards her?”
“Yes, certainly,” answered Captain Dacre. “Request Mr Murgatroyd to do what is necessary; and say that I will be on deck myself, shortly.”
The intelligence that a real, genuine wreck was in sight, with the probability that her crew were in a situation of extreme peril, sent quite a thrill of excitement pulsating through the cuddy; with the result that breakfast was more or less hurriedly despatched; and within a few minutes the skipper, Miss Onslow, and myself were all that remained seated at the table, the rest having hurried on deck to catch the earliest possible glimpse of so novel a sight as Mr Murgatroyd’s message promised them.
As for Dacre and myself, we were far too thoroughly seasoned hands to hurry—the ship was hastening to the assistance of the stranger, and nothing more could be done for the present; and it was perfectly evident that Miss Onslow had no intention of descending to so undignified an act as that of joining in the general rush on deck. But that she was not unsympathetic was evidenced by the earnestness with which she turned to the skipper and inquired:
“Do you think, Captain, that there are any people on that wreck?”
“Any people?” reiterated the skipper. “Why, yes, my dear young lady, I’m very much afraid that there are.”
“You are afraid!” returned Miss Onslow. “Why do you use that word? If there are any people there, you will rescue them, will you not?”
“Of course—if we can!” answered the skipper. “But that is just the point: can we rescue them? Mr Murgatroyd’s message stated that the wreck appears to be in a sinking condition. Now, if that surmise of the mate’s turns out to be correct, the question is: Will she remain afloat until the gale moderates and the sea goes down sufficiently to admit of boats being lowered? If not, it may turn out to be a very bad job for the poor souls; eh, Mr Conyers?”
“It may indeed,” I answered, “for it is certain that no boat of ours could live for five minutes in the sea that is now running. And if that barometer,”—pointing to a very fine instrument that hung, facing us, in the skylight—“is to be believed, the gale is not going to break just yet.”