“If you wish to go I will spare you for a few days,” said Captain Hemming to Adair.
Accordingly all three sailed in the Swordfish. Having ascertained that the midshipmen intended visiting Barbuda, they first steered for that island. There was a good stiff breeze, and as the Swordfish was a fast craft, she rapidly ran over the thirty miles of water which intervenes between Antigua and its small dependency. It was not, however, all plain sailing, as numerous shoals, reefs, and rocks surround the island mostly below the surface, some only showing their black pates, while from its slight elevation above the ocean at the distance of less than four miles it was scarcely visible. A negro standing on the bowsprit end, and holding on by the stay, piloted the schooner, giving his directions to the man at the helm in a sharp, loud voice—
“Lub ou may—all ou can! steady! starboard. Keep her away! steady! lub, lub, lub, for ou life!” he screamed out, waving his hand to enforce his orders. The schooner just scraped clear of a rock, round which the water hissed and bubbled, and the pilot once more subsided into his ordinary calmness.
“Not a pleasant spot to find under one’s lee in a gale of wind on a dark night,” observed Terence. “It proves, however, that the crew of the drogher must have been sober, or they could not have found their way clear of it.”
The schooner at length came to an anchor, and a messenger was sent off to the overseer, who kindly came down at once and told them that he had seen the drogher outside the reefs, and standing to the westward. He pressed them to remain and partake of such hospitality as he could offer; but eager to pursue their search they declined his invitation, and the schooner was quickly again threading her way amid the shoals out to sea. It was a question whether the drogher had continued her course due west, or had steered northward to Saint Barts, or southward to Saint Eustatia, or Saint Kitts. They finally decided after examining the chart, to stand to the westward, and call off Saba. As they approached the island a fishing-boat was seen standing out towards the schooner, which was therefore hove to, to let her come alongside.
“I see Higson, and some of the others, but all I fear are not there,” said Jack, who had been watching the boat through his glass, in a tone which showed his anxiety. Higson was soon on board. He gave a full account of what had happened.
“I would sooner have lost my own life than allowed any harm to happen to the youngsters,” he added. “Still I have hopes that they may have escaped. Needham is a prime seaman, and he will have done what was possible to keep the drogher afloat, though they were sadly short-handed, I own. Still if the craft has not foundered, as they had plenty of provisions and water aboard we may expect to see them again, not the worse for their cruise. We have all been on the look-out, hoping to see her beating up to the island. You’ll not blame me, Mr Rogers, more than I deserve, and I couldn’t help it, you may depend on that.”
The old mate as he spoke well-nigh burst into tears. Jack and the other lieutenants assured him that they did not see how he could be blamed, and they then set to work to consider what was best to be done. They first compared notes, and agreed as to the course of the hurricane, and calculated the direction in which the drogher must have been driven, and the distance she had probably gone, recollecting that as she had been carried with the wind she must have been exposed to its fury for a much longer time than those on shore.
“If it had not been for that they ought to have made their way back long before this,” observed Jack.
“Perhaps they have gone to Saint Eustatia or Saint Kitts,” remarked Murray.