Chapter Six.
“How fares it with the good ship, Dick?” asked Edward, fearing for one moment to withdraw his eyes from off his arduous task of steering the boat amid the raging seas.
The answer came not from the British seaman, but from one of the passengers taken from the ship:—
“Mother of Heaven! they are lost—all lost!”
The words, uttered by the young lady who had been the first received into the boat, were followed by a heart-rending shriek as she sank fainting into the arms of her father. Many of those who had been saved had relatives, all had friends and acquaintances, on board the ship. Some others cried out and expressed their horror or regret, but the greater number looked on with stolid indifference, satisfied that they had themselves escaped immediate destruction, or absorbed in the selfish contemplation of their own pending fate. It seemed even now scarcely possible that the boat, heavily laden as she was, could escape being swamped. Humanly speaking, her safety depended on the bone and muscle and perseverance of her crew. None but true British seamen could have held out as they did. Many hours had elapsed since the ship was first seen; night was approaching, and the sea still ran so high that it would be next to madness to attempt re-entering the little harbour—a task far more difficult than getting out of it, as the slightest deviation to the right or left would have caused the instant destruction of the boat and of all on board her. There was nothing, therefore, but to continue at sea. There was no other harbour for many miles either to the north or south which they could hope to reach within many days.
“An’ we had but provender aboard, Master Raymond, we might give the Portugals the slip, and never let them see our handsome faces again,” observed Dick, after keeping silence for a considerable time.
“True, Dick,” answered Edward, and hope rose in his heart at the bare mention of escaping; but with a sigh he added, “First, though, we have no provender, and had we, in duty we are bound to land these poor people as soon as we can with safety venture so to do. Already they are almost worn out, and a few hours more of exposure may destroy their lives, which we have undergone this peril to preserve. Then, again, the Portugals allowed us to take the boat on the faith that we were to return. Duty is duty, Dick; the temptations to neglect it do not alter its nature, whatever the old tempter Satan may say to the contrary. Let us stick to duty and never mind the consequences.”
“That’s all true, no doubt, Master Raymond, what you say,” replied Lizard. “But it would be hard, if there was a chance of getting away, to go back to prison. Liberty is sweet, especially to seamen.”
“Duty is duty, Dick,” repeated Raymond. “What is right is the right thing to do ever since the world began. Maybe the gale will go down, and by dawn we may land these poor people without danger. It will be a happy thing to us to have saved them; and, to my mind, even our prison will be less dreary from having done it.”