“The Major”—as everybody on board spoke of the lady, almost after a day’s acquaintance with her peculiarities and haughty airs—was just then endeavouring to rise from the captain’s chair, when the vessel, after a deeper pitch forward than usual, settled down suddenly by the stern, accompanying the movement by a lurch to starboard that carried away the lashings of the chair; and, in an instant she and the steward and stewardess, along with Master Negus, were rolling to leeward on the floor amongst the dunnage, the whole quartette sputtering and splashing in the sea-water, and vainly endeavouring for some time to rise, for the “Major,” first clutching one and then the other as they were scrambling to their legs, hampered their efforts without improving her own position in the least.
At last, by the aid of Mr McCarthy and the sailors, the good lady was pulled up on to her feet and assisted into her cabin, where lying back in her berth, she loudly inveighed against the conduct of everyone, particularly selecting the Captain, in her outpour of indignation, for putting to sea when he must have known, as she held, that a storm was coming on; he had only done it, she was certain, in order to annoy her and put her life in peril!
In the midst of her diatribe—which was listened to by no one, for the mate and sailors had returned on deck after completing the job that had brought them down in thorough ship-shape fashion, and the steward and stewardess, now that they had got my lady to her bunk, were trying to make matters more comfortable in the saloon—Mrs Major Negus suddenly bethought herself of her young hopeful, of whose existence she had been awhile oblivious while attending to her own woes.
“Maurice!” cried she, in accents whose shrillness rose above the roar of the waves and the groaning of the ship’s timbers, “Maurice, come here at once, sir, I order you!”
But, lo and behold! no Maurice made his, appearance; nor did he respond to his mother’s heart-rending appeal. The young scamp had sneaked up the companion, unperceived by the mate, and was now on deck in high glee at his freedom from maternal thraldom, watching the battle of the elements and the struggle of the ship against the supremacy of the wind and waves, that were vying with each other to overwhelm her.
The boy stood on the lee side of the poop, and was looking over the side at the wreck of the fore-topgallant mast, which was still attached to the ship by the stay and braces of the yard, the men not yet having time to cut it adrift—all hands being busy in doing what was possible to save the main-topgallant mast, that had begun to show signs of giving way.
Nobody knew he was there, or that he was on deck at all, till Mr Meldrum happened suddenly to cast his eye in his direction, when he at once motioned him to come away.
But, “the imp” took no notice of the warning, and Mr Meldrum was hesitating whether he should leave his station by the binnacle, where he had been doing yeoman’s service in aiding the helmsman ever since the first squall burst over the ship, when a heavy wave came over the quarter to windward, and, dashing violently against the port bulwarks, carried a large portion away into the sea; and, along with the broken timber-work, away went young Master Negus!
Mr Meldrum hesitated no longer as to crossing the deck; but another was sooner at the scene of action.
Frank Harness, the “third mate,” as he was euphemistically called—a dashing young fellow of nineteen, and just completing his sea-time as midshipman before passing the Trinity House examination for his certificate in seamanship—who had been aloft bearing a hand in making the mizzen-topsail snug, the leech of the sail having blown out through the violence of the gale, was just on his way down the rigging again to see where he could be of use elsewhere, when he noticed the boy’s peril as quickly as the passenger; and, with one bound, he alighted on the deck.