“Ah, my boy,” said the old sailor, shaking his head, “if you ever experienced the realities of one, you would not speak so lightly. A shipwreck, let me tell you, is no laughing matter.”
“I didn’t mean that,” explained Bob, “I was only thinking how jolly it would be for us all to have a row, instead of landing at the pier quietly, as we would have done if nothing had happened.”
“Sure, and I don’t see where your ‘jollity’ comes in, Master Bob!” observed his aunt, not by any means relishing the prospect. “It may be all very well for you; but I can’t say I like the idea of scrambling down the side of the vessel into one of these cockleshells and running the risk of getting drowned.”
“Oh, no, you won’t, ma’am,” rejoined the Captain chuckling again, her comical consternation soothing the last acerbities of his temper. “You shan’t drown yourself if I can prevent you, ma’am!”
There was no necessity, however, for the Captain to exert himself especially on her behalf; for, the boats being hauled up in turn alongside and only a proper number being allowed to get into each, no casualty occurred such as Mrs Gilmour dreaded. Thus, in a very short space of time, all the passengers were safely transferred from the stranded steamer to the shore, where a large crowd of sympathising bystanders had now assembled.
“There!” exclaimed the Captain, as he jumped out of the wherry in which their little party had taken passage, “catch me going in one of those excursion craft again! Of all the clumsy lubbers I have ever had the misfortune to be shipmate with, that skipper is about the biggest and most lubberly. You can take the word of an old sailor for that!”
“Why, sure, what could the poor man have done, when the steamer was sinking?” said Mrs Gilmour, as he assisted her also carefully to land. “It’s none of his fault that I can see.”
“What could he have done, eh?” retorted the Captain warmly. “Why, anything else but what he did do. When he saw his fore compartment was full of water, he should have backed the vessel; and then he could have taken her stern-end foremost up to the pier, and landed us comfortably without any bother half an hour ago. Instead of that, what does he do but go backing and filling, first with his engines full speed ahead, and then ditto astern, ending by sticking hard and fast at the same spot where he first struck. While now, to clench the matter, he’s going to run the steamer ashore and beach her, he tells me, as soon as the tide floats her; the upshot of which will be that she’ll break her back and probably become a total wreck.”
“Why didn’t you advise him?” she asked. “Eh, my old friend?”
“The foolish fellow! I pitied him at first, but I can’t say I do so any longer. He wouldn’t listen to me. He’s just like the intelligent Isle of Wight farmer I’ve heard of, one of whose calves having got its head entangled in a wooden fence, in lieu of cutting the palings, thought the only way to release the calf was by cutting its head off!”