The heat now became unbearable, and Captain Billings, much to his grief, saw that the time had come for him to abandon the ship.
“We must leave her, Leigh,” said he to me, with as much emotion as another person might have displayed when wishing a last farewell to some dearly-loved friend or relative. “There is no good in stopping by the old barquey any longer, for we can’t help her out of her trouble, and the boats may be stove in by the falling mainmast if they remain alongside much longer. Poor old ship! we’ve sailed many a mile together, she and I; and now, to think that, crippled by that gale and almost having completed her v’yage, she should be burnt like a log of firewood off Cape Horn!”
“Never mind, sir,” said I, sympathisingly. “It has not happened through any fault of yours.”
“No, my lad, I don’t believe it has, for a cargo o’ coal is a ticklish thing to take half round the world; as more vessels are lost in carrying it than folks suppose! However, this is the last we’ll ever see of the old Esmeralda, so far as standing on her deck goes; still, I tell you what, Leigh, you may possibly live to be a much older man than I am, but you’ll never come across a ship easier to handle in a gale, or one that would go better on a bowline!”
“No, sir, I don’t think I shall,” I replied to this panegyric on the doomed vessel, quite appreciating all the skipper’s feelings of regret at her destruction; but just then the flames with a roar rushed up the main hatch, approaching towards the poop every moment nearer and nearer.
This at once recalled Captain Billings from the past to the present.
“Have you got everything aboard the boats?” he sang out in his customary voice to Mr Macdougall, his tones as firm and clear as if he had not been a moment before almost on the point of crying. “Are all the provisions and water in?”
“Aye, aye, an’ stoowed awa’, too, Cap’en,” answered the mate, to whom had been entrusted the execution of all the necessary details. “A very thin’s aboord, and naething forgot, I reecken.”
“Then it’s time we were aboard, too,” said the skipper. “Boatswain, muster the hands!”
Jorrocks didn’t have to tap on the deck with a marlinspike now to call them, in the way he used to summon the watch below to reef topsails in the stormy weather we had off Madeira and elsewhere; for the men were all standing round, ready to start over the side as soon as the skipper gave the word of command to go.