Our cargo consisted of sugar, coffee, and rice, and other valuable but bulky articles produced in the East, so that we could not move them to get at the leaks. A very steady man, Thomas Andrews, a quarter-master, was acting as first mate, and he having spoken well of me to Mr Randolph, I was appointed to do duty as second mate, or, I might say more justly, to take charge of a watch. Mr Randolph seemed to put a good deal of confidence in me, and he now summoned Andrews and me, and consulted us what it might be best to do towards stopping the leaks.
“It is bad enough now,” he observed, “but it will be much worse should a gale spring up and cause the ship to labour heavily.”
Andrews and I offered to hunt about to try and find out where the worst leaks existed. We accordingly worked our way down into the bows of the ship in every direction, at no little risk of being suffocated, and at length we assured ourselves from the appearance of the planking, which looked as if the bows had been stove in, that she had run against the butt-end of a piece of timber. It seemed a miracle how the ship could have kept afloat with so large a fracture in her bottom. We reported our discovery to Mr Randolph, who descended with us to examine the danger.
“Well, if the worst comes to the worst, we can but get on board the Nautile,” he observed. “In the meantime, we’ll do our best to keep the old ship afloat.”
Mr Randolph directed me to take charge of the ship, and to keep an eye on the proceedings of the Frenchmen, while he and Andrews, with two men, descended below with all the planks and carpenter’s tools to be found, to try and repair, as far as they could, the damage. Night was coming on, so that it was important to get the work done as speedily as possible. I meantime turned my eye every now and then at our consort, for she was evidently getting further ahead than she was accustomed to do. I hoped, however, that she would soon shorten sail or lay to for us, as she had always done at nightfall. Still she stood on.
Darkness was coming down rapidly on us, and at length I could scarcely distinguish her. I did not like to tell Mr Randolph, for of course this would only interrupt the work in which he was engaged; but I marked well the point by the compass in which I had last seen the Nautile, that we might know where to look for her in the morning.
Three hours passed away before Mr Randolph and Andrews returned on deck. They said that they had been able to patch up the leak far better than they expected, and that, if the weather held moderate, we might hope to carry the ship into Plymouth.
The night passed by much as usual. The French prisoners had hitherto behaved very well, and seemed so inclined to be peaceable and orderly that insensibly our vigilance over them relaxed. It was my morning watch on deck, I looked out anxiously for the Nautile when daylight dawned. Brighter and brighter grew the day, but in vain I rubbed my eyes. Not a sign of her was to be seen.
Mr Simon had, then, cruelly and shamefully deserted us. Complaints, and more than complaints, both loud and deep, were uttered. He knew our condition,—he knew that we were any moment liable to founder,—and still he had made sail and left us merely to get home a few days sooner, or to run some little less risk himself of recapture. It is very seldom that I have heard of conduct so selfish in the navy, or, indeed, in the merchant service.
I do not want to make out that seamen are better than other men, but I maintain that they are certainly not worse, and that in many respects they are as honest and free from vice as any other class of men. One thing was very certain, we could not hope to overtake him. We must therefore take care of ourselves as best we could. The leak had been partially stopped, and if we continued to enjoy fine weather, we might get into port very well; and, as Andrews observed, “The prize is not always to the strong, nor the race to the swift.” Our consort might run his head into the very dangers he was so anxious to avoid.