Adrift in a Boat

by William Henry Giles Kingston

They rushed up, and had just time to drag him on to the raft, and to seize the oars and spars they had got ready, when the vessel’s bow rose, and her stern gradually sank, till she glided away towards the bottom, literally from beneath their feet. Just before this the cat, who seemed determined to stick to the vessel to the last, made a spring on to the raft, where she stood trembling with fear and astonishment at the disappearance of her home. As soon as the water reached the raft, by means of the poles they shoved off from the wreck, and then pulled away with all their might, so as completely to clear her. The raft rocked violently, and, in spite of all their efforts, seemed dragged towards the vortex formed by the sinking vessel. In another instant the brig was no longer to be seen, and her secret, whatever it was, was buried with her. They looked anxiously around. The ship was standing in the direction the schooner had gone. They floated alone on that wild, stormy waste of waters. The old man had been placed in the middle of the raft, while the boys took their places on either side of him, endeavouring with the oars to keep the raft before the seas. Among other things placed on it were some carpenter’s tools, spars, blankets, and a good supply of rope. They had thus the means of rigging a mast. They did this by nailing boards between the two front legs of the table, and lashing the mast to the middle of the boards, while they carried stays forward and on either side. The wind was so much warmer, that they supposed it must have shifted to the west, though the thick clouds which still shrouded the sky prevented them from finding out the points of the compass. By Jefferies’ advice, they continued making the arrangements which have been described, though they still hoped they might be seen from the passing ship, which Harry declared to be the frigate to which he belonged—the Ariadne. At last, however, they had to abandon this hope, as the frigate continued her course, in chase, apparently, of the mysterious schooner. Unless seen by some other vessel, Harry and David felt that they must now, humanly speaking, depend on their own exertions for reaching the shore. Harry rigged a mast; they next fitted a sail, and with no small satisfaction hoisted it. By fixing an oar so as to act as a rudder astern, the raft, as soon as the sail was hoisted, behaved remarkably well, and glided over the seas with considerable ease and rapidity. Their spirits rose again, for they fully believed that they should in two or three days reach either the English or the Irish coast. They had no idea how far to the westward they had been driven. By degrees the sea went down, which was very pleasant, but so also did the wind, till it became a perfect calm. An end was thus put to their hopes of soon reaching the land. However, they were far more comfortable than they had been for some time. The afternoon sun shone out brightly, and dried their clothes; and they had plenty to eat—biscuits, and cooked meat, and cheese and butter, and figs and raisins, and several other fruits, and some bottles of wine, of which they wisely partook very sparingly. It, however, did the old man much good, and he appeared to have recovered both his strength and spirits. Although well off in many respects, they had, however, a scarcity of one article, without which they could not hope to prolong existence. That was water. They could only secure one small cask, and they saw, therefore, that they must husband the precious liquid with the greatest care.

They now floated tranquilly on the calm waters, and though they would far rather have been sailing northward, they were thus enabled to strengthen the raft, and to prepare for it encountering any more rough weather which might come on. They had made old Jefferies as comfortable as they could in the centre of the raft, and they soon had the satis faction of finding that he had fallen asleep. Having accomplished all that could be done, they began to chat away as composedly as if nothing very particular had occurred. They went on, indeed, almost with the conversation which had been interrupted when they discovered that the rock on which they were sitting was surrounded by water. Strange to say, Harry expressed no wish or intention of leaving the profession he had embraced should they reach the shore, while David was as determined as ever to enter it should he be able to obtain his father’s leave. No wonder, when the long list of glorious victories won by the British navy was fresh in the memory of the nation, and naval officers in all social circles were looked upon and courted as heroes. At length old Jefferies awoke.

“Now, boys, you must take your rest,” he said. “You have watched for me, and now I’ll watch for you. It won’t do for us all to nap together, and if I see any change I’ll call you. Never fear, puss and I will look after the ship.”

The boys did not require a second bidding, but stretching themselves inside the legs of the upturned table, were soon fast asleep.

We must now return for a short time to their friends on shore. Poor Mrs Merryweather was almost broken-hearted on being at length compelled to give up all hopes of ever again seeing her gallant son, and on being able to account in no other way for his and his friend’s disappearance than that they had fallen over a cliff, or been washed away by the sea. She knew where to go for comfort and consolation; and her chief satisfaction, when she heard that old Mrs Jefferies had lost her husband and grandson on the same night, was to show her whence she could derive the same consolation she herself had found. It was a sore trial to the poor old woman. Mr and Mrs Morton also did their best to comfort her; indeed, had it not been for them she would have been compelled to resort to the workhouse for support. They sympathised with the old woman, not because they were aware of the service her husband had rendered those dear to them, but because, as they supposed, a like calamity had overtaken her and themselves at the same time. Still Mr Morton did not cease for a long time to have search made for them, till at length he was with a sad heart compelled to give it up in despair. Captain Rymer sympathised heartily with his neighbour’s misfortune, and pretty little Mary shed many a tear for the loss of her two friends. Several months passed by, and still no news came of the lost ones. With great reluctance the two families at length went into mourning. It was a sad day, for it was an acknowledgment that hope was given up, and that the two dear lads were no longer among the living.

One morning Captain Rymer and his family were seated at breakfast; Mrs Rymer had just poured out a cup of tea, and Mary had handed it to him with a slice of toast which she had carefully buttered, when the post-bag was brought into the room. He opened it, and drew forth a long official-looking envelope.

“No other letter?” asked his wife.

“No, not one; and this is probably of no great importance either,” he answered, placing it by his side, and beginning to eat the toast Mary had just given him. Captain Rymer had been actively engaged during the whole of the late war in many dangerous and arduous services, and, like other officers, felt somewhat aggrieved that his services had not been fully recognised. He had frequently applied for some civil appointment, but his requests had not been attended to, and the only results were polite answers, couched in the same official language, stating that his merits would be duly considered. At last he made up his mind that he was to be laid on the shelf, and that he should never get anything. However, when he had finished his toast, he opened the letter.

“This is indeed what I little expected,” he exclaimed. “I am appointed as Lieutenant-Governor of Saint — in the West Indies. It is one of the most healthy of the islands. I have often been there; indeed, it is in consequence of my knowledge of the inhabitants that I have been selected; and you will all be able to accompany me.”

This information, as may be supposed, caused a great deal of excitement in the family. As Captain Rymer was ordered to proceed at once, there was no time to be lost in making the necessary preparations. Their friends called to congratulate, and at the same time to express their regret at losing them. The Mortons, and poor Mrs Merryweather, would certainly miss them more than anybody else. Mary could not help looking forward with pleasure to the interesting places she would probably visit, and the new style of life she would have to lead; though she was very sorry to leave so many kind friends, and the attached servants, who could not accompany them. In those days outfits were not to be procured, nor other arrangements made, so rapidly as at present, and Captain Rymer found it impossible to be ready to sail in the ship appointed to carry him out. He had, therefore, to take his passage in a West India trader, to sail a few weeks later. The Betsy was a fine large ship, carrying guns, to enable her to defend herself against the pirates and small privateers, often no better, which at that time infested the Caribbean Sea, and especially on the Spanish main and round the coast of Cuba. The cabins of the Betsy, on board which many wealthy West India planters frequently came backwards and forwards, were for their accommodation fitted up in a style of luxury seldom found on board merchantmen in general. The Betsy put into Falmouth to take the family and their baggage on board. She then had to remain till joined by several other West India ships. Everything was then made ready for sailing, and a bright look-out was kept for another fleet, bound in the same direction, coming down channel under convoy of two men-of-war. They were at length descried, and the ships in Falmouth harbour immediately got under weigh, and stood out to join them. At that time, although most of the men-of-war carrying the flag of England’s enemies had been swept from the seas, a large number of their privateers still remained to annoy and often injure her commerce. It was therefore not considered safe for merchantmen to sail without the protection of one or more men-of-war. Mary was delighted with the appearance of the cabins, so luxurious compared to what she had expected; and she was still more pleased when, on going on deck, she observed a large fleet of stately ships with which she was surrounded. The water was calm, the sky clear, and the sun shone brightly on the pyramids of white canvas towering up from the black, shining, freshly painted hulls which floated on the blue ocean in all directions. On the outskirts were the still more stately men-of-war, their bright-coloured signal flags continually moving up and down, while they occasionally fired a gun either on one side or the other, in rather a difficult attempt to keep their somewhat refractory charges on their proper course. Mary, after watching the manoeuvres of the men-of-war and the fleet of merchant vessels for some time, exclaimed—