“No doubt about it,” answered Nat. “The water is rushing like a mill-sluice into the hold, and if it wasn’t that she is firm on the rocks, she would not have many minutes to swim.”
“Faith, I don’t think she’s swimming now,” said Gerald.
“No,” answered Nat; “but she is not going down, and that is of considerable consequence to us. When daylight comes I suppose we shall find out where we are. I hope that land is not far off, or we may have to make a voyage on a raft, as the boats won’t hold us all.”
Norman Foley’s chief feeling was disappointment at the probability of not being able to return to Jamaica for an indefinite period of time. The distance was too great to perform with any safety in boats; indeed, it was doubtful, without masts to hoist her out, whether the launch could be got into the water.
As other shipwrecked seamen have done, all wished for day to relieve their anxieties. At present it was impossible to decide what to do. Gradually the ship became steadier. As the sea broke over her less frequently, the master was of opinion that the tide was falling, and that she had been driven on shore at high water.
The commander and his first lieutenant accompanied the carpenter round the ship to ascertain more particularly her condition. They quickly came to the conclusion that she was hopelessly wrecked. “The first thing to be done, then, is to get the stores from the hold while the tide is out, and to save the ammunition,” observed the commander. “Should we reach the shore, we must not leave ourselves defenceless.”
The crew were accordingly at once ordered to set to work, and beef, pork, flour, and other stores were hoisted up, while the powder was got out of the magazine and placed in the commander’s cabin with a guard over it.
Daylight found all hands thus busily employed. The wind had gone down and the sea was perfectly smooth. The commander was on deck when the first light streaks of dawn appeared in the sky. As the light increased, he discerned a line of cocoa-nut trees rising out of one of the low islands, known as keys in those seas, scarcely half a mile off, while in the intermediate space were numerous dark rocks, the upper portions of reefs which extended on every side. Between them, however, were wide spaces of calm water, so that there would be nothing to stop the boats from reaching the island. The satisfactory intelligence was soon made known through the ship. The smaller boats were at once lowered, while the carpenter and boatswain set to work to erect shears for hoisting out the launch. As soon as the boats were ready, the commander ordered them to be loaded with provisions, and canvas for tents, and a portion of the powder, and they were sent off under the command of the second lieutenant, with Gerald and Kiddle. The two latter were directed to remain in charge of half a dozen of the men, while the boats were immediately to return. In the mean while a raft was commenced, to assist in transporting the guns and stores, all of which the commander intended if possible to save. The crew were so busily employed that they had no time to indulge in apprehensions for the future, should they have entertained any.
The commander’s chief anxiety was to ascertain if water existed on the island. Without it they would be unable to support themselves, beyond a short period, when that on board was exhausted. The midshipmen were accordingly directed to search for water immediately on their landing. Away they pulled, their spirits scarcely lowered even by the loss of their ship. As they looked back at her as she lay on the rocks, with her masts gone and heeling over on one side, Gerald, however, exclaimed—
“Poor old girl, there you are, and there you will leave your bones. I don’t suppose you care much about it, though you don’t find it as pleasant as bounding over the heaving waves, as the poets say.”