“More likely to have one to drive us on to it,” answered the first mate, in a gloomy tone. “How we managed to get here, I can’t tell.”
“We have now to consider how we may best secure an offing,” remarked Mr Henley. “We could do little at towing, even if we had all hands at work; but with more than half the crew in irons—No, Mr Grimes; we must trust in Providence, for vain is the help of man.”
The first mate uttered some sneering expression; but still he could not help acknowledging that the latter part of the remark was true. As I looked over the side, I could see the circling eddies of a current which was evidently setting in at a rapid rate towards the shore. Nearer and nearer we got. There were reefs laid down in the chart as running a long way off the coast, and we could not tell at what moment we might be driven on them. As I watched I found that we were being swept, not directly towards the shore, but to the southward and eastward, so that, though the current was strong, our progress towards destruction was slow, though not the less sure. Our position was already painful and dangerous enough, with a drunken, half-mad master, a mutinous crew, many of the passengers ready for any mischief, several of the officers worse than useless, and on a dangerous, little known coast.
The cabin passengers and the most trustworthy of the second-class ones formed themselves into a guard, and kept regular watch over the prisoners, so as to prevent any attempt which might be made to rescue them. Hour after hour passed away, leaving us still in a state of great suspense and anxiety. Evening approached—the calm continued. Darkness at length descended once more over the waters, and, though it concealed, much increased our danger. We could feel, too, by the increased motion of the ship, that although the calm continued, the form of the undulations had changed, and that heavy rollers were now moving under us towards the shore. Still the water was far too deep to allow us to anchor with the slightest hope of our anchors holding. I asked Mr Henley what he thought of the state of things.
“Why, Marsden, that I have never been in so dangerous a position in all my life,” he answered; “and to this condition we have been brought by the folly and wickedness of one man. Had he done his duty, nothing of this sort would have occurred. However, it is too late now to complain. Let us, at all events, try to do ours. Oh, that we had but a breath of wind, to get steerage way on the ship!”
As helpless as a mere log floated on our gallant ship, her head slowly pointing round to all the points of the compass. How anxiously did every one look out for the sign of a coming breeze! As to turning in, no one who had the sense to comprehend the condition of the ship thought of doing so. Sills and Broom came up, and inquiring what I thought of the state of affairs, bitterly regretted their folly in coming to sea, and asked me if I was not very sorry at having left home.
“No, far from it,” I answered. “I had an important object to gain, and I knew that it could not be obtained without encountering many dangers and difficulties. This is one of them; but I do not despair of escaping, though at present I do not see the way we shall do so.”
“Ah, I am glad to hear you say that, Marsden,” said Sills. “It’s a comfort, isn’t it, Broom, to find that anybody thinks we shall escape?”
“If his opinion was worth much, it would be,” growled out Broom. “For my part, I have no great faith in what anybody says.”
I answered that I would not quarrel with him on account of his polite remarks, but that I only hoped my opinion would prove correct in this instance, at all events.