“Don’t you be talking of the ship going down,” exclaimed the boatswain, gruffly; “you will be making the rest chicken-hearted.”
“You know as well as I do, Mr Slings, that go down she will, before many hours are over, unless old ‘Harry Cane’ takes himself off pretty smartly.”
Dick could not resist the sailor’s common joke even at that moment.
“I cannot say you nay, Dick,” answered the boatswain; “but all this comes of having babies aboard; we must try and keep the ship above water, anyhow.”
The raft being completed, Dick got hold of a small beaker of water, which he secured to it; he also formed a paddle, and laid alongside of it a spar of considerable length. Having finished his work, he slipped below, and brought up little Charley, with a bundle of bedding and a blanket. The child greatly objected to go to bed in the basket, and still more so to be lashed in, as Dick was doing. Dick knew that nobody would interfere with the child, but still he placed him as much out of sight as possible, just abaft the fore-mast.
“You be good boy, Charley, and don’t cry out,” he said, trying to soothe him. “There is a biscuit—chaw it, lad. I have to take a spell at the pumps, and will be back directly.”
As soon as Dick could leave his work at the pumps, he hurried back to the child, and threw himself down to rest by his side.
The ship flew on before the gale. Every one, knowing that their lives depended on their exertions, laboured away with desperation: some were sent below to bale with buckets, which were passed up to others stationed on deck, but all their efforts, it appeared too likely, would be of no avail. Still the water gained on them. The only hope was that the hurricane might cease, and that a sail might be got under the ship’s bottom. Preparations were made for doing this as soon as it was practicable, but the wind blew harder and harder. The main-mast had before been badly sprung, and during one of the fearful lurches the ill-fated ship made, down it came, crushing the launch, on which depended the only hope of saving the lives of some of them. Dick rushed forward, fearing his little charge had suffered, but Charley still lay unhurt in his basket on the raft. Suddenly there came a lull, and the hurricane ceased almost as rapidly as it had commenced: the sea, however, still tumbled and tossed about fiercely on either side, the ship lying helpless in the midst of the foaming waves. The crew laboured as gallantly as before, though their stout arms were giving way, and many knew too well that all hope was nearly gone. Some with the sharpest eyes were sent to the mast-head, to look out for any ship which might have approached before the calm came on; but as they cast their anxious eyes around the horizon, not a sail was to be seen rising out of the dark tumbling waters.
Dick had gone again to the pumps. “Spell ho!” he cried, for he had worked till he could work no longer. He had just thrown himself down by the side of the raft when a fearful cry arose.
“The ship is sinking! the ship is sinking!”