“I am much obliged to you, Mrs Clagget, and promise to remember your advice,” said Charles, laughing, as he descended with his sisters to their cabin, where they might talk of their dear home and the loved ones there. Charles greatly relieved their minds when he told them that he had written home, and that he hoped his letter would reach England as soon as that which conveyed the intelligence of his supposed loss. They had thought of remaining at the Cape, but Mrs Clagget and Captain Westerway had urged them to continue their voyage in the “Crusader.” Perhaps Mr Paget might have said something about the matter. At all events, they had determined to go on to New Zealand, thence to return home, should they find it desirable. Having recovered their brother, they had now no longer any doubts about the future, but believed—and surely that was but natural—that all would go smoothly and happily.
The ship stood to the south, till she again met with the steady westerly wind, which had already carried her so many hundred miles on her voyage. A change, however, again came over the ocean. Dark clouds were seen hurrying across the sky; the sea, hitherto rolling in regular billows, now began to foam, and hiss, and dance wildly about, the wind carrying the spray in thick sheets from their curling summits over the deck. Sail after sail was taken off the ship, till the topsails, closely reefed, alone remained set, the gale howling and whistling in the rigging. The waves continued to increase in height, and huge mountains of water rose up on either side, whilst others came rolling astern, as if about to break over the poop and sweep the decks of the stout ship. The emigrants were desired to keep below, the hatches were battened down, everything that could be washed away was secured. Lines were also stretched along the deck, by the aid of which the seamen could make their way from one end to the other. Four of the best hands, secured by ropes, were at the helm, where they stood struggling and clinging to it every now and then, in spite of all their efforts one or other being thrown on either side from the violent jerks it made. The wind increased every instant, low heavily laden clouds bounded the horizon, circumscribed to a couple of miles. Sometimes the ship sank so low in the trough of the sea that the curling summits of the waves appeared to reach above her mast-heads; now she climbed a watery height, to remain but for a moment, before she rushed down again on her impetuous course. In vain the captain and his mates shouted to the men, their voices were drowned by the loud uproar of the waves, the howling and whistling of the wind in the rigging, the creaking of the bulk-heads, the flapping of the canvas, the complaining of the masts and spars. A fierce hurricane was blowing, such as Captain Westerway said he had never before encountered in those seas. Charles and Mr Paget frequently made their way on deck to witness the grand spectacle which the ocean presented. A close-reefed fore-topsail, and a storm-staysail were the only sails set; but even with these the masts bent as if they would go by the board, and every moment it seemed likely that the canvas would be carried out of the boltropes. Looking astern, they saw the huge waves following them, now one came rolling up, its foaming crest towering over the taffrail, while ahead appeared another, the summit of which could just be seen above the fore-topmast-crosstrees. In an instant, the ship, escaping from the watery mountain astern, rose to the crest of that before her, and thus she careered onwards, again sinking so low down, that, sheltered by the surrounding seas, the wind could not be felt on deck, though still heard whistling aloft. Directly afterwards it came with a force against which it seemed scarcely possible to withstand. Frequently as the ship rolled, the ends of her yards flicked off the crest of the waves which rose up on either side. For several days the ship ran on, the gale in no way moderating. Emily and May longed to go on deck, to witness, with their brother and Mr Paget, the wild tumult of waters. They wisely entreated them not to make the attempt.
“No, no, young ladies,” said Captain Westerway, “you had better stay where you are. We are doing our best as seamen, but we cannot tell from one moment to another what may happen. A mast may go, and one of those waves following astern might break on board, and sweep the decks, and you will be carried away like feathers without the possibility of saving you.”
This reply made them very anxious whenever Charles and Mr Paget went on deck. One day they both had gone up as usual, promising to hold fast and not run any risk of the danger the Captain had pictured. Just as the ship had reached the crest of a sea a clap was heard like the sound of thunder. The fore-topsail had split. In an instant the larger portion was blown into ribbons, which, streaming out, flapped and twisted and curled themselves round the yard.
“Fore-topmen, aloft!” cried the captain, and, led by Bill Windy, several men mounted the rigging with axes in their belts. As the fragments of the sail beat wildly about, the men ran a fearful risk of being caught by them and hurled into the foaming sea. Bravely they faced the danger, and, cutting away the remainder of the sail, off it flew like a gigantic kite ahead of the ship. Now came the task of bending another sail. Notwithstanding the difficulty, this was accomplished, the ship happily escaping being pooped during the interval.
Several more days passed by and still the gale gave no sign of abating. How different was the aspect of the cabin now to what it had been during fine weather. The stern lights were closely shut in, the sky-light battened down and covered over, to prevent any sea which might come on board breaking through. A solitary lamp swung, both night and day, to and fro, casting a pale, flickering light around. Most of the passengers kept in their cabins, seldom venturing out, even at the breakfast and dinner hour, at which time the table was partially covered with dishes, firmly secured by puddings and fiddles, as the captain told them the lines and sandbags fastened to it are called. Even Mrs Clagget’s tongue was more silent than usual; sometimes, however, it could be heard amid the creaking of the bulk-heads, as she endeavoured to make Mr Jones listen to her complaints; but, though the notes of her voice were distinguishable, that much-enduring lady could but seldom catch the meaning of her words. “Terrible!” then the ship rolled and the bulk-heads creaked. “Deceitful!” and a blow on the quarter from the sea prevented the remainder of the sentence being heard. “Ought to have come another way,”—the increasing uproar drowned even her voice. “Complain to authorities,” showed that Mrs Clagget entertained strong doubts of the captain’s seamanship. Now and then, when he made his appearance in the cabin, though he was but seldom off the deck, she attacked him vigorously. He, however, only smiled at her complaints, and assured her that, had he the management of the weather, he would have arranged smooth seas and steady breezes for her sake, and for that of the other fair ladies on board. “But you see, madam,” he observed, “though the wind blows pretty strong, it is carrying us at a good rate on our course. In a few days we shall be at no great distance from the southern end of New Zealand; and, once under the lee of the land, we shall have, I hope, smooth water and a fair breeze to carry us into port.”
The gale, however, continued longer than the captain expected; but he hoped soon to make the land which he had spoken of. This news raised the spirits of all, and many who, during the continuance of the hurricane, had shut themselves up in their cabins, now once more appeared on deck.
“Do you really tell me that the sea has greatly gone down?” said Emily, as she watched the still mountainous billows amid which the ship laboured.
“Oh, they are mere mole-hills to what they have been,” answered Bill Windy, who was standing by. “The stout ship makes nothing of them. See, we have our three topsails set again, and shall soon be shaking out the topgallant sails and letting fall the courses.” The mate, however, was wrong in his prognostications. During the middle watch, while the second mate had charge of the deck, the wind suddenly chopped round. The ship heeled to the fearful blast. In an instant her lee-yardarms were dipping in the foaming seas. Before he had time to issue any orders the main topgallant mast was carried away, dragging the fore-topmast, and with it the jibboom. Still the ship did not rise—she was on her beam-ends. Captain Westerway and Bill Windy were on deck in an instant. The watch below came hurrying up without being summoned. Every one knew what had occurred.
“Cut away the mizen-mast, Windy,” cried the captain.