Rayner, who was clinging on to the rigging, thought that she would never rise again. A fearful shriek reached his ear, and looking to leeward, he saw two of his people in the embraces of the relentless sea.
In vain the poor fellows attempted to regain the schooner, farther and farther they were borne away, until, throwing up their arms, they disappeared beneath the foaming waters.
At first he thought they were his own men, but on looking round he saw Oliver and Jack clinging to the companion-hatch, and the rest holding on to the main rigging. One of the Frenchmen had been lost, and the coloured steward.
Ere long the rest on board might have to share the same fate. Still Rayner resolved to struggle to the last.
Another attempt was made. The main-trysail was shifted to the foremast; if that would stand, the vessel might possibly be kept off shore; but scarcely had it been set, than the hurricane came down on the hapless vessel with redoubled fury. The weather rigging gave way, and down came the mast itself, killing one of the blacks, and fearfully crushing another; and, to Rayner’s dismay striking down Jack Peek. He sprang forward to drag Jack out from beneath the tangled rigging and spars, calling Tom Fletcher to assist him. They ran a fearful risk of being washed away, but he could not leave Jack to perish.
“Are you much hurt?” he shouted, as he saw Jack struggling to free himself.
“Can’t say, sir; but my shoulder and leg don’t feel of much use,” answered Jack.
Tom, with evident reluctance, had to let go his hold, but could not refuse to run the same risk as his officer.
By lifting the spars they got Jack out, and dragged him to the after-part of the vessel, where, as he did not seem able to help himself, Rayner secured him by a lashing to a stanchion.
“I’ll stand by you, Peek, and, if it becomes necessary, I’ll cast you off, so that you may have a chance of saving yourself,” he said.