Now and then a covey of flying-fish might be seen skimming over the ocean, but they came out of the water to avoid the jaws of their persevering foes, the dolphins or bonitos, not because they liked it, or wished to exhibit their brilliant wings, but the wiser leviathans of the deep kept in the cooler regions below the surface. Gradually a thin mist filled the atmosphere; it seemed to come from nowhere, but there it was, though the heat was in no way diminished by it, but rather increased. Still the pumps had to be kept going, and the crew had to stand at them, whether in sunshine or shade, stripped to the waist, the perspiration running down from every pore. No one grumbled, though “spell ho!” was oftener than usual cried, and numerous visits were paid to the water-cask by those who generally disdained the pure liquid unless mixed with rum.
The captain’s countenance wore an unwonted grave expression; the officers, too, looked serious, and their eyes were constantly turned round, now in one direction, now in the other. Presently the captain shouted with startling energy—
“All hands shorten sail! clew up! haul down! Be smart, my lads!”
The courses were quickly brailed up and furled, the fore-staysail alone being set. A dark cloud was seen away to the south-west, gathering as it approached a vast assemblage of black masses which appeared to come out of space, advancing rapidly till they formed one dense column.
The men were scarcely off the yards when a sheet of white foam came hissing over the hitherto calm surface of the ocean, followed by a deafening roar as wave after wave arose, each higher than its predecessor, and then the hurricane in all its irresistible might struck the sorely-battered ship. Over she heeled before it, the fore-staysail with a loud report flew out of the bolt-ropes ere it had done its duty of paying off the ship’s head. Again and again the savage blast struck her side, pressing her still farther down, while the ever-increasing seas broke in foaming masses over her. The captain gave the order to cut away the mizzen-mast, and set another staysail. For a moment there was a lull, the ship rose, and her head feeling the wind, away she flew before the howling gale. The carpenter sounded the well. He had an alarming report to make to the captain—the water was gaining faster than ever on the ship. Dick heard it.
“To my mind the old barky will be going down,” he said to himself. “I must look after Master Charley, for if she does, it won’t do to have the little chap going to Davy Jones’ locker. It is all very well for those as are bred to it, but, bless his young heart! I must do what I can to keep him afloat.”
Dick was a man of action rather than words. He immediately filled his capacious pockets with all the provisions he could lay hands on. In the launch on deck he found a basket which had been brought on board with vegetables. There were a number of broken spars and other fragments of wood, the remains of the boats which had been carried away. He began to lash them firmly together in a mode which a seaman only could have accomplished; and in the centre of the raft he had thus formed he secured the basket, which had a lid to it. One of the officers saw him, and told him to knock off.
“Ay, ay!” he answered; but it was not a moment, he conceived, to stand on ceremony, and immediately again went on with his work. The boatswain also set his eyes on him.
“What are you about there, Dick?” he asked. “Off with you to the pumps; it will be your spell directly.”
“I am building a raft for your godson, Mr Slings,” answered Dick. “You would not wish the pretty little chap to be drowned if there’s a chance of saving him, and please Heaven, I will try and do it, though I am as ready as any on myself to stick to the old barky to the last.”