We soon got them safely placed in the boat, in which I left two boat-keepers, with orders to be ready to shove off at a moment’s notice. The rest of the boat’s crew came on board to lend a hand to what might be required.
I then set to work to see what was best to be done. There was no time to ask questions as to how the ship had got into her present condition. My first care was to attend to the wants of the sick. The seaman who had received us and my own people went round with me. Unhappily, we found that most of the other poor fellows were beyond human aid. Three only were still alive, verging on the portals of death. We fortunately had a flask of spirits, a keg of water, and some biscuits in the boat; of these I served out sparingly among the crew. The food had the effect of speedily reviving them. I next took a lantern, and, accompanied by Jack, went below to discover, if I could, how much water the ship had in her. I was not quite comfortable during the time, for I thought she might take it into her head to go down before we could regain the deck. The water we found was over the cabin floors; but, as far as we could judge, it was not gaining on her. Half of it might have got in while the sea broke over the ship. The contents of the cabin, bedding, and tables, and chairs, and crockery, and books, and clothing, were washing about together. Returning on deck, we went forward. The forepeak was much in the same condition.
“She’ll not sink yet awhile, sir,” said Jack. “Hark, now! don’t you hear a bubbling sound right forward, there? Now, to my mind, if we were to get a sail thrummed and brought across her bows, we might carry her into harbour yet.”
“If you think so, we’ll try it, by all means,” I answered, feeling no little pride at the prospect of saving the ship.
No time was to be lost in setting about the work, if it was to be done. I had only three men; and the four we found able to move about on board were still too weak to be of much use. Officers there were none. I shall have to tell a sad tale on that subject, by-and-by. We had no little difficulty in getting at the sail-room; but, after much rummaging about, we discovered a spare topsail, with which we set to work as we proposed. What with searching for the ropes and getting the sail ready, it took us an hour before it was brought under the ship’s bows. Meantime the water gained very slowly on us. It was nervous work, for we could not tell at what moment the last bucketful might come in which would send her to the bottom.
“That will do, sir, I think,” said Jack Stretcher, who, I must own, was the prime mover. “The leak seems to suck in the sail, and we may now try to clear her of the water.”
With a will we manned the chain-pumps, and after an hour’s hard work it became evident that we had materially lessened its depth. In the meantime the little girl and her father, with the weakest of those we found on board, had remained in the boat.
“You may come on board again, sir; I don’t think the ship is going to sink this time,” I sung out, as I looked down on them.
At first the gentleman would not venture to quit the boat, for he could not believe that the ship was not on the point of sinking. After some persuasion, however, I got him and his daughter on deck, and we wrapped her up comfortably, and placed her on the seat by the companion-hatch, for the cabin was too damp for her to occupy. The sick men we placed on the poop, with a sail stretched over them, to shelter them somewhat from the night air. The dead were carried forward. We had no time, however, to spare from the pumps; but, with the aid of the fresh hands, we again set to for a spell, the gentleman helping, as far as his strength would allow him. As may be supposed, I was curious to know who he was; and while we were pumping away, I bethought me I would ask him his name.
“You may call me Marlow,” he answered. “I ought to have mentioned that before.”