“I only wish we had a chance of getting to the spirit room,” cried another. “A short life and a merry one for me.”
“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” cried the young midshipman. “Are you men with souls, and do you wish to die like dogs?” The seamen, astonished at a mere boy thus addressing them, felt ashamed, and returned to their duty. Others, however, soon afterwards were seen behaving in the same manner. Willy, falling in with Mr Bolland, reported what he had observed.
“We will soon put a stop to that,” observed the boatswain, seizing a rope’s end. He was not long in hunting out the fellows.
The water continuing to rise, the poor women and children were now collected on the poop cabins.
There they sat, crouching down on the deck, holding their children in their arms, and hiding their pallid faces. Mrs Rumbelow was the only one who remained calm. She might have been a little more excited than usual, as she went among them, trying to cheer them up. “Do not be downhearted, my dear women,” she exclaimed. “There is a God in heaven, remember, who takes care of us. He may make the storm to cease, and keep the old ship afloat notwithstanding all the leaks she has got in her bottom. Do you think the men of our regiment are not going to do their duty, and work away at the pumps as long as the pumps will work? If they do not, we will go and handle them ourselves, and put them to shame. Hurrah, lasses! you think better of your young husbands than to suppose that, and we old ones have tried ours, and know that they will not shirk their duty.” Still, though Mrs Rumbelow spoke thus cheerfully, she had a heavy weight at her heart. She had been too often at sea not to know the danger the ship was in, and she observed no signs of the weather improving.
The night was again drawing on; Commander Newcombe had done his utmost. The ship was kept under easy sail, to relieve her as much as possible. He would get another sail fothered, which might help to keep out the water a few hours longer. “Should that fail,” he observed to Mr Tobin, “we must get the boats ready, and endeavour to save the lives of as many as they can hold.”
“Too true, sir,” was the answer. “I see no other prospect for us.”
“We must trust in God, Mr Tobin; He is our only hope,” observed the commander with a sigh.
Darkness came down once more upon the hapless ship as she lay rolling and pitching heavily in that cold antarctic sea. The pumps kept clanking away the whole night; the gush of water was heard even amid the roar of the waves, as it rushed from her sides. The men crouched down in groups at their stations in different parts of the ship, many a stout heart knowing full well that at any moment the fearful cry might be heard, “She is sinking! she is sinking!”
The colonel was in his cabin with his wife and daughters. Captain Power sat at the table reading, or endeavouring to read, and every now and then addressing a few remarks to the officers around him. They were mostly behaving as English gentlemen generally do behave under such circumstances, with calm courage, ready to perform any duty which might be required of them. The only person who did not show his face was the unhappy Ensign Holt, who kept himself shut up in his cabin for most of the time. Now and then he appeared, with a pale face, to inquire whether the leaks were being got under; and on being told that they were still gaining on the pumps, he rushed back again, with a look of dismay on his countenance.