In the Eastern Seas

by William Henry Giles Kingston

The serang made no answer, but a cry of mocking laughter was heard from several quarters. Roger Trew, lead in hand, flew to the chains. He gave one heave. “No bottom,” he cried. “We cannot bring up even if we wish!”

I asked the boatswain what he proposed doing. “We ought to punish those Lascars, for they have played us that trick,” I observed.

“Little use to attempt to do that, Walter,” he answered. “If I was a navigator I might know more about it, but my only notion is to let the ship drive. When the hurricane is over, we must try to do our best to regain the harbour.”

“I am not much of a navigator yet,” I observed, “but I will look at the captain’s chart, and see whereabouts we are going. We shall, at all events, better know then what to do.”

“Ah, there’s nothing like learning,” observed Tarbox; “I wish I had more of it. What a seaman can do I will do, and with your help, Walter, we may still weather this gale.”

I hurried into the cabin, and soon found the chart. It afforded me but little satisfaction, however. We were driving to the southward, but several islands were in our course. We might escape them, but if driven against them, our destruction would be certain. With sails unbent, and short-handed as we were, we could scarcely hope to be able to get under the lee of one of the islands.

“We must try it, though,” said Tarbox. “We have another anchor and cable, and that will hold us well enough in a moderate breeze with land to windward, unless these Lascar fellows play us another trick. I should like to clap them all in irons at once.”

I agreed with him, but as we only mustered twelve men besides ourselves, and they numbered eleven, it would be no easy matter to do so, especially as they would probably be prepared for an attack. I, however, advised the boatswain to keep all our people together, that in case the Lascars purposed our destruction, we might not, at all events, be cut off in detail. He agreed to the wisdom of this caution, and sent Roger Trew to get the people together.

Our position was indeed a very fearful one. The hurricane seemed rather to increase in strength than to cease. On, on we drove. The helm was put up, and we scudded before it, the dark seas rising on either hand hissing and foaming, and every moment seeming about to overwhelm us. I could not help feeling also great anxiety about those we had left on shore. Even should they have escaped injury, I felt how anxious Captain Davenport would be when he found that the ship had disappeared; and Emily, too, how great would be her grief at the thought that I was probably lost. What the Lascars were about, I could not tell. Our people remained aft, while they kept forward. I have gone through many trying scenes, but that was decidedly one of the most trying. We felt it the more because we were personally safe. We could walk about and take our food, but at the same time we were every moment expecting destruction. I was soon to be in a far more dangerous position, but then I was looking out, hoping to be saved.

The morning at length broke. We saw the Lascars clustered forward. What they were about to do we could not tell. Still we drove on. Land appeared on either hand in the far distance. It was evident that we were between two islands. The chart showed me that one was Gilolo, and the other the island of Batchian. The want of sails prevented our taking the ship into some sheltered place which we might hope to find on one side or the other.