“Comeback, you mad fellow!” exclaimed Mr Harvey, still standing on the deck, wishing to be the last man to leave the brig.
“You had better come, sir,” I could not help saying; for I feared, from the depth the brig already was in the water, that she might at any moment take her last plunge.
We were not kept long in suspense. Again Jacques appeared, carrying his fiddle and fiddlestick in one hand, and a bottle of cognac in the other, and, making a spring, leapt on the raft. Mr Harvey leapt after him.
“Cast off,” he cried, “quick, quick!”
We let go the ropes which held the raft to the brig, and, seizing the poles, shoved away with all our might; then taking the paddles in hand, we exerted ourselves to the utmost to get as far as we could away from the sinking vessel.
We were not a moment too soon, for almost immediately afterwards she settled forward, and her stern lifting, down she glided beneath the ocean, and we were left floating on the still troubled waters. Yet we had cause to be thankful that we had saved our lives. We were far better off than many poor fellows have been under similar circumstances; for we had provisions, the sea was becoming calmer and calmer, and the weather promised to be fine. We could scarcely, we thought, escape being seen by some vessel either outward or homeward-bound. There was too much sea on to permit us, without danger, to set the sail, but we got the mast stepped and stayed up in readiness. The wind was still blowing from the southward, and we hoped it would continue to come from that direction, as we might thus make the Irish coast, or if not, run up Saint George’s Channel, where we should be in the track of numerous vessels.
The day was now drawing to a close, and we prepared to spend our first night on the raft Mr Harvey settled that we should keep watch and watch, he with Jacques in one and Dick and I in the other. The weather did not look altogether satisfactory; but as the sea had gone down, we hoped that we should enjoy a quiet night, and get some sleep, which we all needed.
Jacques seemed in better spirits than the rest of us; he either did not understand our dangerous position, or was too light-hearted to let it trouble him.
“Why should we be dull, Messieurs,” he said, “when we can sing and play!” And he forthwith took his fiddle, which he had stuck up in one of the baskets, and began scraping away a merry air, which, jarring on our feelings, had a different effect to what he had expected. Still he scraped on, every now and then trolling forth snatches of French songs. At last, Mr Harvey told him to put up his fiddle for the present, and to lie down and go to sleep.
“I shall want you to look out by and by, when I keep my watch,” he said; “and meantime you, Wetherholm and Hagger, take charge of the raft, and I hope in a short time to be able to let you lie down.”