“We’ll have to take to the boats soon,” said the captain, turning round as he came up, “that is, when the sea moderates a bit. I don’t see anything else that can be done—do you?”
“If I were you,” suggested Mr Meldrum, “I would try and run her ashore first and beach her. We’re not far from Kerguelen Land, and though it is now winter time on the island and desolate enough, it would be better our stopping there than wandering about the ocean in the boats, trying to get into the track of the Australian liners, or else making for the Cape, the only place we could steer for.”
“It’s a bad look-out any way,” said the captain despondently.
“Yes, I grant that,” replied the other; “but, if we land there and manage to hold out till September or October, only three months at the outside, a lot of whaling craft generally put into Kerguelen for the seal-fishery about that time, and I daresay we could get one of these to take us to the Cape.”
“Perhaps that would be the best,” said Captain Dinks, reflecting a moment—“but what would you advise now—how are we to get ashore, eh!”
“Why, rig up a jury-mast or two at once and make for the land!” answered Mr Meldrum promptly. “The island must be close to us now to leeward; and with this wind we ought to be able to reach the shore by daybreak, when we would be able to look about us better. It is certainly not the slightest good our remaining here doing nothing till then, for the carpenter tells me, it is only just as much as the men can do to keep down the water by constant pumping, so by the morning they’ll be pretty nigh exhausted and we be no better off. Besides, as you can observe for yourself, it would be madness while that sea is on to try to launch the boats, unless we are absolutely compelled to do so in order to save our lives; whereas, if we run the old craft ashore, we will have the boats for a last chance.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Captain Dinks, “though I can’t say that I like to leave the poor old thing’s bones to bleach on this outlandish coast. What say you, Mr McCarthy, eh?”
“I agree, sure, with Mr Meldrum, son. He spakes like a sailor; and as he’s a naval officer he ought to know best,” answered the chief mate. Mr Adams and Frank Harness, who were both also admitted to the “council of war,” having given a similar opinion, Mr Meldrum’s advice was immediately acted upon.
Without delay, a small jury-mast was rigged up aft, attached to the stump of the mizzen-mast, and one on the main-deck, close to where the main-mast bitts yet remained, as it was thought better not to step the jury-masts too far forward, for fear of the vessel plunging her bows under. After this, the mizzen-topsail and topgallant-sail, which had been cut off from the yards and saved from the wreck, were hoisted on roughly improvised yards; when, the Nancy Bell being brought round with the wind abeam, was cast loose from the wreckage and headed due east towards the land—in the very direction whence had been heard the sound of breakers, and which all on board had been so anxious to give a wide berth to but so few short hours before. What had been her dire peril was now looked on as a haven of safety!