“Now, up with her, men, as smartly as you like!” And in an instant the boat, within six feet of the davit-heads, was jerked out of the water, and, before the ship had recovered herself sufficiently to dash the frail craft against her side, was swinging clear of all danger, and in her proper position, to the triumphant shout of “Two blocks” from the men at the falls. To secure the gallant little craft in the gripes was the work of a few minutes only; after which the mainyard was swung, sail was made upon the ship, and we resumed our voyage, deeply thankful that our efforts to rescue our fellow-beings, in their moment of dire extremity, had been crowned with such complete success.
Chapter Six.
The Tragedy on board the “City of Calcutta.”
The men we had just rescued were destitute of everything save the clothes they brought on board us on their backs, and those were, of course, saturated with salt-water; it therefore became necessary to supply them with a new rig from the contents of the ship’s slop chest; but our first business—while the unfortunates were being stripped and vigorously rubbed down under Sir Edgar’s personal superintendence, and afterwards liberally dosed with some of his mulled port—was to clear out the deck-house forward, and get the bunks ready for their reception, they being, naturally, very greatly exhausted by the long hours of exposure that they had been called upon to endure. The baronet, with that warm-hearted kindness and delicate consideration that I had already discovered to be characteristic of him, had, after consulting me, and obtaining my permission, caused one of the spare state-rooms in the saloon to be cleared out and prepared for the captain; and, once warm and snug in their berths, we saw no more of any of the rescued men until the next day.
The next morning, at breakfast, the skipper put in an appearance, introducing himself as Captain Baker, late of the barque Wanderer, of London; and as the meal proceeded, he told us the story of the disaster that had befallen him. It appeared that, like ourselves, they had been becalmed on the previous night; and, like myself, Baker had retired at midnight, without, however, having noticed the fall in the mercury that had given us our first warning of the coming blow. On the top of this oversight, the officer of the watch had made the fatal mistake of supposing that the change, when it made itself apparent, meant nothing more serious than the working up of a thunderstorm. He had therefore contented himself with clewing up the royals and hauling down the flying-jib, after which he had awaited the outburst with equanimity. When, therefore, it came, they were utterly unprepared, and the ship was caught aback with topgallantsails upon her, and hove down upon her beam-ends. This was bad enough; but, to make matters worse, she was loaded with iron, and, upon being laid over, the cargo shifted. The watch below, of course, at once sprang on deck, and, under poor Baker’s supervision, everything that was possible was promptly done to get the ship upon her feet again, but all to no purpose; and at length, finding that the craft was shipping a great deal of water, the order was reluctantly given to cut away the masts. This was easily accomplished by cutting through the lanyards of the rigging to windward, when the masts went by their own weight. Thus relieved, the ship partially recovered herself; but she still had a heavy list to starboard, and was floating so deep that the water constantly washed over the deck as far as the lee coamings of the hatchways as she rolled. The pumps were then manned; but after an hour’s hard work it was found that the water was a full foot deeper in the hold than it had been when the pumps were started. It was therefore conjectured that the ship had suffered a very serious strain when thrown upon her beam-ends, or that the violent shifting of the cargo in her hold had started a butt. Still the pumps were kept going, in the hope that the leak might suddenly stop, as leaks have sometimes been known to do without any apparent reason.
Meanwhile, the sea had been rapidly getting up, and soon began to break heavily over the dismasted ship, which was now rolling so violently that, combined with her heavy list, it became almost impossible to move about the deck, the leeward inclination of which soon grew so steep that the men had to be lashed to the pumps to save them from falling or being washed overboard. At length a tremendously heavy sea swept over the ship, from stem to stern, carrying away the whole of the bulwarks, smashing the deck-house and long-boat to pieces, carrying two boats off the gallows, tearing the booms adrift, staving in the front of the poop cabins, and—worst of all—killing four men who were working at the pumps. Captain Baker now abandoned all hope of saving the ship, and gave orders to prepare the boats for launching. And now the full measure of their disaster became for the first time known; for upon proceeding to investigate, as well as they could in the pitchy darkness, it was found that they absolutely had not a boat left capable of floating. This fact once ascertained, all hands beat a retreat to the cabin, there to consult together, in such shelter as it afforded, regarding the most desirable steps to be taken. It was soon found, however, that the sea surged into the cabin in such overwhelming deluges that they ran the utmost risk of being drowned if they remained there, and they were, therefore, compelled to turn out again and seek for safety on the poop. There the day-dawn found them, shivering with cold, wet to the skin, and drenched every moment by the pelting, pitiless sea, hungry, thirsty, and hopeless—when once they had had an opportunity of seeing the condition of the battered hull that supported them, and were fully able to realise the absolute impossibility of doing anything to help themselves. They could not even build a raft for themselves, every scrap of movable timber having been swept away during the darkness of night. True, there was the wreck of the spars still alongside; and if the ship would but remain afloat until the weather moderated, something might possibly be done with them, but not until then. So they could only crouch there on the wet exposed poop, with the sea washing continuously over them, and the raw wind penetrating their saturated clothing, and hope dubiously that some ship might heave in sight in time to save them. And thus they remained until we took them off.
At sundown the gale broke, the wind moderated and came out from the eastward, and by midnight we were once more bowling along upon our course under royals. The next morning, when I went on deck, I found that Roberts had been busy during the whole of his watch getting the studding-sails set; and, in short, it proved that we had now caught the trades, which ran us to within a degree and a half of the Line, and then left us in a glassy calm, sweltering under the scorching rays of the tropical sun.
The breeze left us during the night, and when day broke, a large, full-rigged ship was discovered within about seven miles of us. As soon as it was light enough to see, she hoisted her ensign, but as it drooped in motionless folds from the peak we could only discern that its colour was red, from which circumstance, and the build of the ship, we arrived at the conclusion that she was British. We of course showed our ensign in return; but, as there was no wind to blow out the flags, it was useless to attempt exchanging numbers or otherwise indulging in a little sea conversation. We therefore dismissed all further thought of her pro tem.