The Three Admirals

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Jack undertook to convey the sad intelligence to his wife and Mrs Murray, who had remained below, wondering what had occurred.

It was a sad event in the trip, which had otherwise been so agreeable. The wind continued to increase, and Murray felt too anxious to go below. The schooner had been put about and was now standing to the northward. He had made up his mind to run into Falmouth to wait for a fair wind, should the weather not improve. Ben Snatchblock came aft.

“I’m afraid, sir, that the craft’s making more water than she should. We’ll man the pumps, if you please. She got more damage than I had supposed. The chief injury seems to be amidships, and I should not be surprised if the water wasn’t coming in through one of the side berths.”

Jack and Adair went below to examine into the state of affairs. One of the berths on the port side had been occupied by Desmond. On entering it, by the light from the main cabin, they saw the water gushing in every time the schooner heeled over. The ladies naturally cried out with alarm.

“It might have been far worse,” said Jack. “We can soon stop this. We must shorten sail and keep as much as possible on an even keel.”

The carpenter came below with some tools and planks, and set to work to try and stop the leak. The pumps were, in the mean time, kept actively going, and Ben reported that the water was decreasing. Still, the injury might be more serious than was at first apprehended, and no little anxiety was felt by all on board. It might be many hours before Falmouth could be reached.

The damage having been partially repaired, the yacht was put about. The leak in the side was anxiously watched, to ascertain if the water still came in. A small quantity was evidently forcing its way through the seams, but Murray hoped that it would not prove of much consequence, and that the pumps might easily keep the vessel clear. Still he was aware that at any moment the plank nailed on might be forced in. It seemed a wonder indeed that the yacht had not been sunk at once by the blow she had received.

“The wind’s coming a point or two more to the south’ard, sir,” observed Ben Snatchblock, who had been looking at the binnacle. “Half a point or so more, and we shall weather the Lizard. There are the lights, sir. I thought we should see them before long.”

The mist clearing away, the fixed lights of the Lizard were seen on the port bow. Gradually the wind allowed the vessel’s head to be turned more to the eastward, when they appeared broad on the bow. The schooner, by keeping close to the wind, was able to steer a course direct for Falmouth Harbour, and away she went slashing through the seas at a great rate. Just before dawn it again grew unusually dark and thick, so that even the bright lights of the Lizard could be seen but dimly. They served, however, to show that she was at a sufficient distance from the shore, but that shore was a lee one, and should any accident happen, she would be placed in great peril.

“Luff all you can,” said Murray to the helmsman, for he naturally dreaded, should the wind increase, to find himself with a rocky coast under his lee, though he had confidence in his craft.