Saint Augustine’s Bay.—The Missionary’s Tale.
By sunrise the following morning the gale had pretty nearly blown itself out. The heavy masses of clouds had rolled away, and a bright sun was shining on the smooth water of the bay. Outside, the ocean was still boiling and seething under the influence of the late heavy gale, but the waves, though tipped with foam, were rolling sluggishly, as if tired with their wild efforts.
The “Halcyon,” late her Majesty’s brig “Torch,” did not look by any means the same vessel that had sailed from Quillimane. Neither of her masts were wholly standing. The main-topgallant mast with yards and gear was gone; the fore-topmast with all above it had disappeared, while the bowsprit looked a naked stump, and the splintered white edge of the smashed bulwarks fully attested the violence of the ordeal she had gone through. Not a regular trader, and being fitted out for a long cruise, Captain Weber was in no hurry to make a port. Having little cargo, and that selected for trading purposes, the brig was well provided with spare spars and sails, and, with the exception of Santa Lucia Bay on the coast of Natal, a better harbour for refitting her could hardly have been found. The rigging was covered with wet clothing, shaking about in the breeze. From the able seaman’s tarpaulin and long boots to the captain’s pea-jacket, and Donna Isabel’s drenched cloak, all were there drying in the sunshine. The “Halcyon” rode with her bows to seaward, while astern lay the beach shaped like a crescent, and composed of fine sand glittering in the beams of the morning sun. The luxuriant forest growth swept down nearly to the water’s edge, and the long straight stems of the cocoa-nut trees, with their tufts of thin leaves, shot up here and there like giants from among the lower growth. The crew, with the exception of two men, had been sent below, the brig being land-locked, or nearly so, and no possible danger apprehended, and as these men had been regularly relieved during the darkness, both crew and passengers had enjoyed a good night’s repose.
It was about eight o’clock when Captain Weber appeared on the quarter-deck; walking aft, he looked at the now useless compass, and then glanced aloft, from a seaman’s habit.
“Let the men have their breakfast, Mr Lowe, comfortably, and then we’ll go to work.”
“We have a spare topmast and topgallant mast, Captain Weber; but I have been rummaging over the spars, and can find nothing that will do for the main-topgallant mast.”
“Is there any stick that will serve for a jib-boom?”
“Yes, sir; there is a spare fore-yard, which the carpenter thinks may do.”
“Very good. The moment the men have done breakfast get the boats into the water. We will carry out an anchor astern, and keep the jade a close prisoner, to teach her not to pitch the spars out of her. Call me when they are towing astern.” And Captain Weber dived down to finish his toilet.
Below, all marks of the late gale had disappeared. The steward and his mate had been busy since daylight, and the more than ordinarily comfortable though small cabin was in perfect order, when the passengers sat down at the breakfast table at nine o’clock. Of course the brig had not the slightest motion; in fact, she was as though in dock.