“Where we now are,” said I; and I should probably have gone on to explain the reason of the name, but that I was very anxious to hear more of her account. As far as I could make out, three very anxious weeks passed by while the ship remained in this condition, when, as they were getting near soundings, a gale sprang up and drove her furiously before it. “One evening,” continued the little girl, “papa and I were in our cabins, when suddenly the ship rolled over dreadfully on her side, and—most horrible!—the water came rushing down into them. At the same time there was a frightful crash, and we heard sad shrieks and cries. Poor papa flew into my cabin, and seized me in his arms, for he thought the ship was sinking, so did I, and we wished to die together.”
“The ship had broached to, and had been thrown on her beam-ends, and the masts had gone by the board,” I remarked. “It was fortunate they did so, or she would have been sent to the bottom to a certainty. When the masts went the ship righted, and you saw there was a chance of escape.”
“I was too frightened to think anything just then,” said she. “All I know is, that papa, carrying me in his arms, found his way in the darkness to the companion-ladder, and then up on deck. When we got there, I wished that we were in our cabin again. We were in the midst of high, black, foaming waves and bright flashes of lightning; and when I looked up, there were no masts and no sails, but the deck was covered with their broken remains. It was so very dreadful, I cannot talk more about it now. I did not cry or faint, but I felt my heart beat very quick as I clung to papa, while he held tight to the companion-hatches, which, as you see, still remain firm.”
“But where have you lived all the time you have been on the wreck?” I asked.
“Oh, I remained where you first found me,” she answered. “At night they covered me up with cloaks and a sail, and in the daytime I was able to walk about, for the sea, fortunately, was tolerably smooth. The kind sailors also, though suffering much from hunger, I heard papa say, brought me all I required to eat, which was not much, you may suppose.”
This was all about the shipwreck I heard from Miss Alice at the time. It appeared that when the masts had been carried away, the mizen-mast had hung on by some of the rigging, and by dragging astern had assisted in making the head of the ship pay off. This caused her to drive before the gale, and saved the decks from being swept by the seas, which would otherwise have cleared them of every human being. As soon as all the damage had been committed, the wind and sea began to go down, and by the morning there was only a moderate breeze. The carpenter, however, discovered that the ship had sprung a leak, and all hands were now summoned to work the pumps; but weakened by disease and famine, and overcome with fatigue, they were soon obliged to give up the almost hopeless task. Three days of horror passed away without any ship coming near them, while several of them died from sheer starvation. Fortunately, at last they discovered some gunpowder which, being in tin cases, was not spoilt, and with it they managed to fire the guns which had attracted our attention.
Miss Alice told me many more incidents, which I now forget. Our conversation was interrupted by Jack Stretcher, who came aft.
“Sir,” said he, touching his hat, “I’m afraid we shall have to take to the boat, for the people are almost all knocked up; and, do all we can, the ship won’t float much longer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, for I should have liked to have got her safe into harbour,” I answered. “But I suppose there is no help for it.”
“We’ll take another spell at the pumps before we give in,” he replied. “But I wanted to tell you, sir, that to my mind that poor gentleman will be killing himself if he works away as he does; and as he is of no great use to us, it would be better if he sat down and rested himself.”