The Three Admirals

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Hold on, for your lives!” shouted Adair, and the order was echoed along the decks. The wave struck the vessel’s stern. A portion broke over her, but the next moment she was again driven forward. That fearful, dread-inspiring sound, which tells that the keel has come in contact with a hard rock, continued. Every instant Adair dreaded that the terrific crash would come which would denote the doom of all on board. Still he stood calm, and apparently unmoved, as before.

“Keep to your stations, my lads! we will not yet let the old ship go down,” shouted Adair.

The order was repeated along the deck. The magnificent discipline which prevails in the British navy, even at that terrible moment, triumphed. Not a man deserted his post, but continued pumping or baling away as if no rugged reef was beneath the ship’s keel. Several times she rose and surged onwards, but it was only to feel the rock still under her. On she went. At that instant the wind began to abate, and even the sea was calmer than it had been before she had touched the reef. Still it could not be doubted that she had received a serious injury. As the howling of the tempest abated, Adair could make his voice heard along the decks.

“My lads,” he said, “I know you to be true British seamen. Things may be bad enough, but we must not give way to despair. Maintain the discipline of which we are justly proud, obey your officers, and don’t give in while a plank remains above water. The weather is moderating, and as soon as it is calm enough we will try and discover the amount of damage the ship has received. Stick to the pumps and buckets, and we will see if we cannot heave the water out of her faster than it comes in. Now, turn to again!” The men, while Adair was speaking, had knocked off for a few minutes. He saw, however, that he had gained time, by the energy with which they again set to work, he himself showing an example by handing along the buckets, as did all his officers. Adair and Green, however, had to knock off to try and take an observation, for the clouds gave signs of breaking, and they hoped every moment to see the sun burst forth. It was all-important indeed to ascertain the ship’s exact position on the chart, that they might steer for the nearest spot where she might, if necessary, be beached, or at all events under the lee of which she might anchor, and an endeavour be made to repair damages. Whether this could be done or not could only be ascertained by a more thorough examination of her bottom than had yet been possible. The midshipmen were summoned to assist. Adair and his officers stood with their sextants in their hands ready to note the sun’s altitude should he burst forth, while the first lieutenant watched the chronometer. The tossing seas rose round the labouring ship. They had already lost their leaden hue, and here and there bright green tints could be seen, while their crests no longer hissed and foamed as before. Suddenly, as if by a stroke of the magician’s wand, the clouds parted, and the bright sun shone forth in a clear space of blue. The men on deck cheered as they saw it. To them it seemed an augury of safety. A satisfactory observation was taken, the exact longitude was obtained, at noon they would find the true latitude, and then, should Virginia Island have been laid down correctly, they might steer with confidence towards it. According to the chart, it was still to the eastward, and might, if the ship had not run too far south, be sighted before night.

Noon was anxiously waited for. The crew continued labouring away with the same energy as before, though in the case of some it was the energy of despair. Again Adair took his place in the line of men passing the buckets up and down. Still all their efforts did not avail to lessen the amount of water within the ship, but they kept it from increasing—that was something. As long as their strength held out, they might continue to do that. Every one knew that, should they relax in their efforts, the water would conquer them; the great point was to keep it sufficiently low to prevent the fires being put out. Should that occur and a calm come on, their case would then be desperate, even though in sight of land. Some, it is true, might be saved in the boats and others on rafts, should the ship float long enough to enable them to be constructed, but the bulk—two-thirds, probably—must be doomed to perish. Adair knew that he must be among the latter. While a soul remained on board, he could not quit his ship. Dear as life might be to him, for the sake of others it must be sacrificed. When also the trying moment should come, would discipline be maintained? Would not the crew scramble into the boats and swamp them? or leap headlong on the rafts and render them useless?

Frequently the captain and master looked at their watches. Once more they returned to the poop, with their sextants in hand. Noon was approaching. Clouds were still passing slowly across the sky; they might too probably rest between the sun and the ship, rendering it impossible to take an observation. The officers watched their progress. A large cloud was floating by; would it pass onwards before the sun gained its extreme altitude?

“Now, master!” cried Adair, in a cheerful tone.

The western edge of the cloud, tinged with a golden hue, was seen, and the sun came forth. The captain and Green with the first lieutenant had their sextants to their eyes in a moment: the sun was still rising.

“It has dipped!” cried Adair.

They carefully noted down the latitude, and Green, in a few seconds, worked out the observation on a little slip of paper, not bigger than one’s thumb nail. Hurrying below, the chart was got out, and now the exact position of the ship was obtained.