“We shall have to cut away the mizzen-mast and the main-mast too,” he answered. “Pleasant, won’t it be?” I hoped that we should not be driven to this alternative. As soon as the captain had given the necessary orders for the safety of the ship, we heard him telling Ben Yool to go and look for us.
“They be safe enough, sir,” was the answer. “I see’d them after the squall.”
“Ay, ay, father, we are all right here,” sung out Jerry. How high and shrill his voice sounded amid the roar of the tempest! By this time the sail was hoisted, the helm was put up—the ship’s head rose and fell, and rose again. At length the canvas felt the force of the wind.
“Hurrah! hurrah!” was shouted fore and aft. Slowly round came her head—the helm was righted. The fore-staysail was quickly hauled down again, or the next squall would have taken it out of the bolt-ropes, and away we flew under bare poles—now plunging headlong into the deep valleys before us, our stern lifted high up above the seas—now climbing the opposite side of the watery hill, the wave following us as it came up, vast and indistinct in the gloom of night, looking as if it must overwhelm us.
“But what has become of old Surley?” I asked of Jerry, when we had time to draw our breath a little more freely. “Can the dear old fellow be washed overboard?”
“I hope not; perhaps he didn’t like the look of things on deck, and skulked down below again,” answered Jerry. “Let us go and look for him.”
This was no easy work, in the way the ship was pitching and tumbling about, and not without considerable risk; but on that point we did not very much trouble our heads. Old Surley was always ready to fight for us; and had we thought about the matter, we should have been ready to go through any amount of danger for his sake. Letting go our hold, therefore, away we crawled, grasping at anything we could reach, to prevent ourselves from being rolled away to leeward. At last we reached the forecastle, where the men had all huddled together, but old Surley was not there. This made us very anxious about him. No one had seen him. We began to fear that, as he had not hands to hold on by, he must have been washed overboard when the heavy sea struck the ship which had laid her on her beam ends.
“You’d better not be scuttling about the decks, young gentlemen,” said Ben Yool. “Another of those big seas may come, and then if you are caught by it you may be carried away further off than you’ll like.”
“Thank you, Ben,” we answered. “We’ll take care of ourselves; but we must first find old Surley, whatever happen.” Saying this, we began to work our way aft again, peering and putting our hands into every place where we thought he could be stowed away. As we were passing along close to the booms on the starboard side, under the long boat, I thought amidst the howling of the tempest that I heard a low whine. I told Jerry. We together hunted about the spot till our hands touched a hairy coat. It was that of old Surley. Of that we were certain, by hearing him again whine. He could not move. Poor fellow, he had been jammed in among the booms. We judged that there would be great difficulty in releasing him, but after feeling about in all directions round him, we determined to make the attempt. I took his head and Jerry took his tail, and, watching our opportunity as the spars separated by the movement of the ship, we lifted him out of the trap in which he had been caught. He licked my face and hands, and then turned round and did the same to Jerry; indeed, he took every means to evince his gratitude. We were very happy to find that none of his bones had been broken, and together we all three scrambled back in the best way we could to the cabin. Old Surley seemed to be very hungry after his imprisonment, so I made another excursion on deck to the cook’s larder, and got him a piece of meat, with which I returned to the cabin. We should have been glad of something of the sort ourselves, but as we could not attempt to cook anything, and the meat I had brought was raw, we gave the whole of it to our four-footed friend. We all sat down on the deck of the cabin, holding on by the legs of the table—that is to say, Jerry and I held on, and Surley lay between us. The doctor was in his berth. After, as he said, he had sufficiently enjoyed the scene on deck, he had wisely turned in, feeling that he could be of no use anywhere else. Never before had I spent so uncomfortable a night on board. We were very wet, and cold, and hungry, and not at all certain that the ship would not go down, and carry us and all hands with her.
“It’s not so bad, though, as the time we spent on the bottom of the boat among the Falkland Islands,” observed Jerry.