“Unhappy people!” I exclaimed; “we must try and help them.”
“I fear that with this calm we shall be unable to get near them in time to be of any use,” said Fairburn. “If a breeze were to spring up, we may save those who may take to their boats or secure themselves on rafts.”
For a long time we watched the burning vessel, for such we were persuaded was before us; and earnestly we prayed for a breeze to carry us to the rescue of our fellow-beings, whoever they might be. We calculated that the ship was about nine or ten miles off, so that, with a good wind, we might hope to get up to her in rather more than an hour. At length a breeze fanned our cheeks, our sails filled, and we began to move rapidly through the dark and silent sea. As we drew near the fire, we saw that we were not mistaken in our conjectures; for before us appeared a large brig, with her masts still standing, but flames were blazing up around them, running along the yards and burning the canvas and rigging, while the whole hull seemed a mass of fire, fore and aft. As we were looking, first one mast tottered, and was followed directly by the other, and, amid an outburst of sparks, they fell hissing into the sea. The flames then seemed to triumph still more furiously than before. We looked in vain for any boats, or planks, or rafts, on which any of the crew might be floating. The whole sea around was lighted up; but the flames shone alone on the dancing waves. We were yet some way off; we therefore sailed on with the intention of getting as close as we could without danger to ourselves, to render any aid in our power. We passed the time in discussing what the vessel could be, and by what means she could have caught fire.
“With the extraordinary carelessness seamen too often are guilty of, it is surprising that ships do not oftener catch fire than is the case,” said Fairburn. “Such is the fate of many of those which are never again heard of. Probably the destruction of this vessel arises from the same cause.”
“Is it not often the custom of pirates, after they have robbed a vessel, to set her on fire to avoid discovery?” I asked casually. I scarcely know why I put the question, except that my thoughts were naturally running on the Emu.
“Oh yes, it may be so,” said Van Graoul, who heard the observation; “but still I don’t think it.”
“What do you say? Suppose it is the Emu herself,” remarked Barlow thoughtlessly.
“Heaven forbid!” I ejaculated. “Remember who I fancy is on board.”
“Oh sir, I do not mean to say that I have any reason to suppose that yonder vessel is the Emu,” he replied, seeing the pain the idea gave me. “She looks a much larger craft, and higher out of the water.”
When we got close to the burning wreck, we hove-to to windward, and had our boats ready to lower in case we should perceive any living beings either on board or in the water. We soon saw, however, that on the deck of the brig there was not a spot on which a person could stand free from the raging flames. I also attentively examined her, as did Fairburn; and to my infinite relief we were persuaded that she was altogether a totally different vessel from the Emu, for she was much longer and higher out of the water,—indeed, a large merchantman; and from her build we judged her to be Spanish. As I was examining the vessel, I observed, through the flames which were surrounding them, that the boats were still hanging to the davits. The circumstance was extraordinary, and we could only account for it, by supposing that the fire had burst forth so suddenly that the crew had not time to lower them, or that some other means of escape had been afforded them. We had not long to consider the point, and to arrive at the conclusion, before the flames had completely consumed the deck and sides, rendered peculiarly combustible by the heat of the climate; and, after raging for a few minutes with renewed fury, the hull sunk gradually from our sight, and the fiery furnace was quenched by the waves as they leaped triumphantly over it. Though we had seen no living beings, we still could not but suppose that some of the passengers or crew must have escaped, and were at no great distance. I was very unwilling, therefore, to leave the spot till we had ascertained the fact; and I resolved accordingly to remain hove-to till the morning. We fired a gun at intervals to attract the attention of any of the people; but hour after hour passed away, and no answer was made. The sun at last arose. A few charred planks and spars were floating near us, showing that we had kept one position during the night; but we could see no boat or raft. Look-outs were sent aloft to scan the ocean around.