“You and all the hands have done your very best, Mr Gimlet,” he answered. “We must manage to keep the ship from going down to-night, and to-morrow morning, at the top of high tide, we will attempt to take her over the bar. It is a question whether we shall succeed, and I am very loth to lose her, but the risk must be run.”
“No doubt about that, sir,” answered the carpenter. “If she once strikes on that bar, she’ll never get off again, except piecemeal; but that’s better than going to the bottom.”
Although, besides the marines, a good many men had been landed, a sufficient number remained to work the pumps, watch and watch, and Adair and Desmond set an example by labouring with them, as they had before done. That night was as trying a one, to the captain at all events, as any yet passed. To-morrow must decide the fate of the ship, whether she would be cast a helpless wreck on the reef or be carried into smooth water and beached on a spot where it might be possible to repair her. Besides, her upper works were strong and sound, but below she was too evidently of a very different character, like many another fine-looking craft. Morning came at length. Adair urged Saint Maur to go on shore.
“I don’t hide from myself that crossing the bar will be an undertaking of considerable danger—some, if not all of us, may be lost,” said the captain. “I want you to return home to assume your title and property, and to enjoy your life for many years, and to benefit the peasantry on your estate by doing all the good you can. I am getting on in life, and at the best cannot expect to enjoy many more.”
Nothing, however, that the captain could say would induce the young lord to quit the ship.
“I know the bar as well as any one. There exists a channel, though a narrow one, through which I think I can take her,” he answered.
Adair at last consented; preparations were made for crossing the dangerous spot. Adair ordered the men to take breakfast, and then all went to their stations. The whole of the crew were on deck except the engineers, who of course had to remain below attending to the engines. There was no time to be lost, for already the water in the hold had risen higher than it had ever done before. Steam was got up. The engineer reported that all was ready below. Two of the best hands were sent to the wheel. The crew stood some forward, some aft, where most of the officers were stationed. Desmond took his post by the side of the captain, whence he could direct the helmsmen. All on board felt it to be an awful time. Some said that the ship, the moment she touched the ground, would go to pieces, and that the sea breaking over her would wash all hands from her decks. Desmond, however, assured the captain that he had no such fear; even should the ship not cross the bar, she would run far enough over it to escape the full force of the breakers, besides which, at present they were very moderate, and were not likely to injure her materially.
The anchor was now hove up, the fore-topsail only was set to assist in steering her, and she was headed in towards the mouth of the harbour. Onwards she seemed to fly towards it. Many even of the stoutest held their breath. The boats were all waiting inside the harbour’s mouth, to render assistance should it be necessary. To a stranger on the shore watching the approaching ship, she appeared as trim and stout a man-of-war as need be. Nothing on deck gave indication of her rotten condition below. Pat Casey and Peter were standing together.
“Shall we get in an’ put the ould boat to rights, or shall we stick on the bar an’ see her knocked to pieces?” asked Pat of his companion.
“Me tink, Massa Pat, dat if de ship stick on de rocks him go to pieces, and dat it better for him to do dat dan you and all hands get drowned, ’cause we den get ’shore while him break up.” Similar remarks were exchanged amongst the men generally.