“Ay, ay, sir. Hands ’bout ship!” responded the chief-mate; and in a minute or two the men were at their stations.
“All ready, sir!” reported Mr Bryce Captain Blyth walked aft to the mizen-rigging, signed to the helmsman, and gave the word:
“Helm’s a-lee!”
“Helm’s a-lee,” responded the men, lifting the coiled-up braces and so on from the pins and throwing them down on the deck all ready for running.
The ship shot handsomely up into the wind; and the word was given to “raise tacks and sheets,” quickly followed by the other commands; and in a couple of minutes the Flying Cloud was round and heading well up for the wreck, whilst the crew bowsed down the fore and main tacks simultaneously with the aid of a couple of watch tackles.
To the honour of Captain Blyth be it said that, though his interest in the race between his own ship and the Southern Cross was as ardent as though his very life depended upon its result, not one single murmur escaped him on account of this delay; for delay it certainly was. No; apart, perhaps, from the passengers, he of all on board betrayed the most anxiety respecting the crew of the distressed vessel.
In an hour the Flying Cloud was hove-to abreast and close
to leeward of the wreck, which proved to be a fine wooden barque, copper-bottomed, on her beam-ends, as Ned had reported, with her masts lying prone in the water. There was no sign of any one on board her; nevertheless Captain Blyth ordered one of the gigs to be lowered, and instructed Mr Bryce to proceed to the wreck and give her a careful overhaul. At Mr Gaunt’s own request that gentleman accompanied the mate.
The little party had some difficulty in boarding the derelict, for she was lying broadside-on to the wind, with her masts pointing to windward; and though there was no very great amount of sea running, there was still sufficient to make boarding from to windward an awkward if not an absolutely dangerous matter, in consequence of the raffle of spars and cordage in the water. But they succeeded at last; Mr Gaunt and the mate contriving to gain a footing in the main-rigging, whilst the boat with her crew backed off again out of harm’s way. The task of examining the vessel, now that they were actually on board her, was even more difficult and dangerous than that of boarding, the ship lying so far over that her deck was perpendicular. By getting out on her weather side, however, and by means of ropes’-ends, they eventually succeeded in penetrating first to the cabin, and then to the forecastle (both of which were on deck); but in neither was there any one to be found. There were, however, in the cabin, signs—such as open and partially empty boxes and trunks, with articles of wearing apparel scattered about—which seemed to indicate that the vessel had been very hurriedly abandoned; and the state of these articles was such as to lead Mr Gaunt to the conclusion that the abandonment had taken place within the previous twenty-four hours.