Cord and Creese Page 12

  CHAPTER XII.

  THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.

  At length the ship came within the latitude of the Guinea coast.

  For some days there had been alternate winds and calms, and the weatherwas so fitful and so fickle that no one could tell in one hour whatwould happen in the next. All this was at last terminated by a dead,dense, oppressive calm like those of the Indian Ocean, in which exertionwas almost impossible and breathing difficult. The sky, however, insteadof being clear and bright, as in former calms, was now overspread withmenacing clouds; the sea looked black, and spread out before them onevery side like an illimitable surface of polished ebony. There wassomething appalling in the depth and intensity of this calm with suchaccompaniments. All felt this influence. Although there was everytemptation to inaction and sleep yet no one yielded to it. The menlooked suspiciously and expectantly at every quarter of the heavens. TheCaptain said nothing, but cautiously had all his preparations made fora storm. Every half hour he anxiously consulted the barometer, and thencast uneasy glances at the sea and sky.

  But the calm which had set in at midnight, and had become confirmedat dawn, extended itself through the long day. The ship drifted idly,keeping no course, her yards creaking lazily as she slowly rose and fellat the movement of the ocean-undulations. Hour after hour passed, andthe day ended, and night came once more.

  The Captain did not turn in that night. In anxious expectation he waitedand watched on deck, while all around there was the very blacknessof darkness. Brandon began to see from the Captain's manner that heexpected something far more violent than any thing which the shiphad yet encountered, but, thinking that his presence would be of noconsequence, he retired at the usual hour.

  The deep, dense calm continued until nearly midnight. The watchers ondeck still waited in the same anxious expectation, thinking that thenight would bring on the change which they expected.

  Almost half an hour before midnight a faint light was seen in the thickmass of clouds overhead--it was not lightning, but a whitish streak, asthough produced by some movement in the clouds. All looked up in muteexpectation.

  Suddenly a faint puff of wind came from the west, blowing gently for afew moments, then stopping, and then coming on in a stronger blast.Afar off, at what seemed like an immeasurable distance, a low, dull roararose, a heavy moaning sound, like the menace of the mighty Atlantic,which was now advancing in wrath upon them.

  In the midst of this the whole scene burst forth into dazzling light atthe flash of a vast mass of lightning, which seemed to blaze from everypart of the heavens on every side simultaneously. It threw forth allthings--ship, sea, and sky--into the dazzled eyes of the watchers. Theysaw the ebon sky, the black and lustrous sea, the motionless ship. Theysaw also, far off to the west, a long line of white which appeared toextend along the whole horizon.

  But the scene darted out of sight instantly, and instantly there fellthe volleying discharge of a tremendous peal of thunder, at whosereverberations the air and sea and ship all vibrated.

  Now the sky lightened again, and suddenly, as the ship lay there, avast ball of fire issued from the black clouds immediately overhead,descending like the lightning straight downward, till all at onceit struck the main truck. With a roar louder than that of the recentthunder it exploded; fast sheets of fire flashed out into the air, and astream of light passed down the entire mast, shattering it as a tree isshattered when the lightning strikes it. The whole ship was shaken toits centre. The deck all around the mast was shattered to splinters, andalong its extent and around its base a burst of vivid flame started intolight.

  Wild confusion followed. At once all the sailors were ordered up, andbegan to extinguish the fires, and to cut away the shattered mast. Theblows of the axes resounded through the ship. The rigging was severed;the mast, already shattered, needed but a few blows to loosen its lastfibres.

  But suddenly, and furiously, and irresistibly it seemed as though thewhole tempest which they had so long expected was at last let loose uponthem. There was a low moan, and, while they were yet trying to get ridof the mast, a tremendous squall struck the ship. It yielded and turnedfar over to that awful blow. The men started back from their work. Thenext instant a flash of lightning came, and toward the west, closeover them, rose a long, white wall of foam. It was the van-guard of thestorm, seen shortly before from afar, which was now upon them, ready tofall on their devoted heads.

  Not a word was spoken. No order came from the Captain. The men awaitedsome word. There came none. Then the waters, which thus rose up like aheap before them, struck the ship with all the accumulated fury of thatresistless onset, and hurled their utmost weight upon her as she laybefore them.

  The ship, already reeling far over at the stroke of the storm, now, atthis new onset, yielded utterly, and rolled far over on her beam-ends.The awful billows dashed over and over her, sweeping her in theirfury from end to end. The men clung helplessly to whatever rigginglay nearest, seeking only in that first moment of dread to preventthemselves from being washed away, and waiting for some order from theCaptain, and wondering while they waited.

  At the first peal of thunder Brandon had started up. He had lain down inhis clothes, in order to be prepared for any emergency. He called Cato.The Hindu was at hand. "Cato, keep close to me whatever happens, for youwill be needed." "Yes, Sahib." He then hurried to Beatrice's room andknocked. It was opened at once. She came forth with her pale, sereneface, and looked at him.

  "I did not lie down," said she. "I knew that there would be somethingfrightful. But I am not afraid. At any rate," she added, "I know I willnot be deserted."

  Brandon said nothing, but held out to her an India-rubberlife-preserver. "What is this for?" "For you. I wish you to put it on.It may not be needed, but it is best to have it on." "And what will youdo?" "I--oh! I can swim, you know. But you don't know how to fasten it.Will you allow me to do so?" She raised her arms. He passed the beltaround her waist, encircling her almost in his arms while doing so,and his hand, which had boldly grasped the head of the "dweller in thewreck," now trembled as he fastened the belt around that delicate andslender waist.

  But scarcely had this been completed when the squall struck the ship,and the waves followed till the vessel was thrown far over on her side;and Brandon seizing Beatrice in one arm, clung with the other to theedge of the skylight, and thus kept himself upright.

  He rested now for a moment. "I must go on deck," he said. "I do not wishyou to leave me," was her answer. Nothing more was said. Brandon at oncelifted her with one arm as though she were a child and clambered along,grasping such fixtures as afforded any thing to which he could cling;and thus, with hands and feet, groped his way to the door of the cabin,which was on the windward side. There were two doors, and between themwas a seat.

  "This," said he, "is the safest place for you. Can you hold on for ashort time? If I take you on deck you will be exposed to the waves."

  "I will do whatever you say," she replied; and clinging to the arm ofthe almost perpendicular seat, she was able to sustain herself thereamidst the tossing and swaying of the ship.

  Brandon then clambered out on deck. The ship lay far over. The wavescame leaping upon her in successive surges. All around the sea wasglistening with phosphorescent lustre, and when at times the lightningflashed forth it lighted up the scene, and showed the ocean stirredup to fiercest commotion. It seemed as though cataracts of water wererushing over the doomed ship, which now lay helpless, and at the mercyof the billows. The force of the wind was tremendous, exceeding anything that Brandon had ever witnessed before.

  What most surprised him now was the inaction of the ship's company. Whywas not something being done? Where was the Captain?

  He called out his name; there was no response. He called after the mate;there was no answer. Instantly he conjectured that in the first fierceonset of the storm both Captain and mate had been swept away. How manymore of that gallant company of brave fellows had perished he knew not.The hour was a perilous and a crit
ical one. He himself determined totake the lead.

  Through the midst of the storm, with its tumult and its fury, therecame a voice as full and clear as a trumpet-peal, which roused all thesailors, and inspired them once more with hope. "Cut away the masts!"The men obeyed, without caring who gave the order. It was the commandwhich each man had been expecting, and which he knew was the thing thatshould be done. At once they sprang to their work. The main-mast hadalready been cut loose. Some went to the fore-mast, others to themizzen. The vast waves rolled on; the sailors guarded as best they couldagainst the rush of each wave, and then sprang in the intervals to theirwork. It was perilous in the highest degree, but each man felt thathis own life and the lives of all the others depended upon theaccomplishment of this work, and this nerved the arm of each to thetask.

  At last it was done. The last strand of rigging had been cut away. Theship, disencumbered, slowly righted, and at last rode upright.

  But her situation was still dangerous. She lay in the trough of the sea,and the gigantic waves, as they rolled up, still beat upon her with alltheir concentrated energies. Helpless, and now altogether at the mercyof the waves, the only hope left those on board lay in the strength ofthe ship herself.

  None of the officers were left. As the ship righted Brandon thought thatsome of them might make their appearance, but none came. The Captain,the mate, and the second mate, all had gone. Perhaps all of them, asthey stood on the quarter-deck, had been swept away simultaneously.Nothing could now be done but to wait. Morning at last came to theanxious watchers. It brought no hope. Far and wide the sea ragedwith all its waves. The wind blew with undiminished and irresistibleviolence. The ship, still in the trough of the sea, heaved and plungedin the overwhelming waves, which howled madly around and leaped over herlike wolves eager for their prey. The wind was too fierce to permit evenan attempt to rig a jury-mast.

  The ship was also deeply laden, and this contributed to her peril. Hadher cargo been smaller she would have been more buoyant; but her fullcargo, added to her dangerous position as she lay at the mercy of thewaves, made all hope of escape dark indeed.

  Another night succeeded. It was a night of equal horror. The men stoodwatching anxiously for some sign of abatement in the storm, but nonecame. Sea and sky frowned over them darkly, and all the powers whichthey controlled were let loose unrestrained.

  Another day and night came and went. Had not the _Falcon_ been a ship ofunusual strength she would have yielded before this to the storm. As itwas, she began to show signs of giving way to the tremendous hammeringto which she had been exposed, and her heavy Australian cargo bore herdown. On the morning of the third day Brandon saw that she was deeper inthe water, and suspected a leak. He ordered the pumps to be sounded. Itwas as he feared. There were four feet of water in the hold.

  The men went to work at the pumps and worked by relays. Amidst the rushof the waves over the ship it was difficult to work advantageously, butthey toiled on. Still, in spite of their efforts, the leak seemed tohave increased, for the water did not lessen. With their utmost exertionthey could do little more than hold their own.

  It was plain that this sort of thing could not last. Already threenights and three days of incessant toil and anxiety, in which no one hadslept, had produced their natural effects. The men had become faint andweary. But the brave fellows never murmured; they did every thing whichBrandon ordered, and worked uncomplainingly.

  Thus, through the third day, they labored on, and into the fourth night.That night the storm seemed to have reached its climax, if, indeed, anyclimax could be found to a storm which at the very outset had burst uponthem with such appalling suddenness and fury, and had sustained itselfall along with such unremitting energy. But on that night it was worsefor those on board, since the ship which had resisted so long began toexhibit signs of yielding, her planks and timbers so severely assailedbegan to give way, and through the gaping seams the ocean waterspermeated, till the ocean, like some beleaguering army, failing indirect assault, began to succeed by opening secret mines to the veryheart of the besieged ship.

  On the morning of the fourth day all hands were exhausted fromnight-long work, and there were ten feet of water in the hold.

  It now became evident that the ship was doomed. Brandon at once began totake measures for the safety of the men.

  On that memorable day of the calm previous to the outbreak of the storm,the Captain had told Brandon that they were about five hundred miles tothe westward of the coast of Senegambia. He could not form any ideaof the distance which the ship had drifted during the progress of thestorm, but justly considered that whatever progress she had made hadbeen toward the land. Their prospects in that direction, if they couldonly reach it, were not hopeless. Sierra Leone and Liberia were there;and if they struck the coast any where about they might make their wayto either of those places.

  But the question was how to get there. There was only one way, and thatwas by taking to the boats. This was a desperate undertaking, but it wasthe only way of escape now left.

  There were three boats on board--viz., the long-boat, the cutter, andthe gig. These were the only hope now left them. By venturing in thesethere would be a chance of escape.

  On the morning of the fourth day, when it was found that the water wasincreasing, Brandon called the men together and stated this to them. Hethen told them that it would be necessary to divide themselves so that asufficient number should go in each boat. He offered to give up to themthe two larger boats, and take the gig for himself, his servant, and theyoung lady.

  To this the men assented with great readiness. Some of them urged himto go in the larger boat, and even offered to exchange with him; butBrandon declined.

  They then prepared for their desperate venture. All the provisions andwater that could be needed were put on board of each boat. Firearms werenot forgotten. Arrangements were made for a long and arduous voyage. Themen still worked at the pumps; and though the water gained on them, yettime was gained for completing these important preparations.

  About mid-day all was ready. Fifteen feet of water were in the hold. Theship could not last much longer. There was no time to lose.

  But how could the boats be put out? How could they live in such a sea?This was the question to be decided.

  The ship lay as before in the trough of the sea. On the windward sidethe waves came rushing up, beating upon and sweeping over her. On theleeward the water was calmer, but the waves tossed and raged angrilyeven there.

  Only twenty were left out of the ship's company. The rest were allmissing. Of these, fourteen were to go in the long-boat, and six in thecutter. Brandon, Beatrice, and Cato were to take the gig.

  The sailors put the gig out first. The light boat floated buoyantly onthe waters. Cato leaped into her, and she was fastened by a long lineto the ship. The nimble Hindu, trained for a lifetime to encounterthe giant surges of the Malabar coast, managed the little boat withmarvelous dexterity--avoiding the sweep of the waves which dashedaround, and keeping sufficiently under the lee to escape the rougherwaves, yet not so much so as to be hurled against the vessel.

  Then the sailors put out the long-boat. This was a difficultundertaking, but it was successfully accomplished, and the men were allon board at last. Instantly they prepared to row away.

  At that moment a wilder wave came pouring over the ship. It was asthough the ocean, enraged at the escape of these men, had made a finaleffort to grasp its prey. Before the boat with its living freight hadgot rid of the vessel, the sweep of this gigantic wave, which had passedcompletely over the ship, struck it where it lay. Brandon turned awayhis eyes involuntarily.

  There was a wild shriek--the next moment the black outline of thelong-boat, bottom upward, was seen amidst the foaming billows.

  The men who waited to launch the cutter were at first paralyzed by thistragedy, but there was no time to lose. Death threatened them behindas well as before; behind, death was certain; before, there was still achance. They launched the cutter in despe
ration. The six men succeededin getting into her, and in rowing out at some distance. As wave afterwave rose and fell she disappeared from view, and then reappeared, tillat last Brandon thought that she at least was safe.

  Then he raised his hand and made a peculiar signal to Cato.

  The Hindu understood it. Brandon had given him his directions before;now was the time. The roll of the waves [illegible] up was for thepresent less dangerous.

  Beatrice, who during the whole storm had been calm, and had quietlydone whatever Brandon told her, was now waiting at the cabin-door inobedience to his directions.

  As soon as Brandon had made the signal he hurried to the cabin-door andassisted Beatrice to the quarter-deck. Cato rowed his boat close up tothe ship, and was waiting for a chance to come within reach. The waveswere still more moderate. It was the opportunity for which Cato had beenwatching so long. He held his oars poised, and, as a sudden swell of awave rose near the ship, he forced his boat so that it came close besideit, rising high on the crest of the swell.

  As the wave rose, Brandon also had watched his opportunity as wellas the action of Cato. It was the moment too for which he had beenwatching. In an instant, and without a word, he caught Beatrice in hisarms, raised her high in the air, poised himself for a moment on theedge of the quarter-deck, and sprang forward into the boat. His footrested firmly on the seat where it struck. He set Beatrice down, andwith a knife severed the line which connected the boat with the ship.

  Then seizing an oar he began to row with all his strength. Cato had thebow oar. The next wave came, and its sweep, communicating itself to thewater, rolled on, dashing against the ship and moving under it, risingup high, lifting the boat with it, and bearing it along. But the boatwas now under command, and the two rowers held it so that while it wasable to avoid the dash of the water, it could yet gain from it all themomentum that could be given.

  Brandon handled the oar with a dexterity equal to that of the Hindu, andunder such management, which was at once strong and skillful, the boatskimmed lightly over the crests of the rolling waves, and passed outinto the sea beyond. There the great surges came sweeping on, risinghigh behind the boat, each wave seeming about to crush the little barkin its resistless grasp, but notwithstanding the threat the boat seemedalways able by some good luck to avoid the impending danger, for as eachwave came forward the boat would rise up till it was on a level withthe crest, and the flood of waters would sweep on underneath, bearing itonward.

  After nearly half an hour's anxious and careful rowing Brandon lookedall about to find the cutter. It was nowhere to be seen. Again and againhe looked for it, seeking in all directions. But he discovered no signof it on the raging waters, and at last he could no longer doubt thatthe cutter also, like long-boat, had perished in the sea.

  All day long they rowed before the wind and wave--not strongly, butlightly, so as to husband their strength. Night came, when Brandon andCato took turns at the oars--not over-exerting themselves, but seekingchiefly to keep the boat's head in proper direction, and to evade therush of the waves. This last was their constant danger, and it requiredthe utmost skill and the most incessant watchfulness to do so.

  "WITHOUT A WORD HE CAUGHT BEATRICE IN HIS ARMS." ETC.]

  All this time Beatrice sat in the stern, with a heavy oil-cloth coataround her, which Brandon directed her to put on, saying nothing, butseeing every thing with her watchful, vigilant eyes.

  "Are you afraid?" said Brandon once, just after they had evaded anenormous wave.

  "No!" was the reply, in a calm, sweet voice; "I trust in you."

  "I hope your trust may not be vain," replied Brandon.

  "You have saved my life so often," said Beatrice, "that my trust in youhas now become a habit."

  She smiled faintly as she spoke. There was something in her tone whichsank deep into his soul.

  The night passed and morning came.

  For the last half of the night the wind had been much less boisterous,and toward morning the gale had very greatly subsided. Brandon'sforesight had secured a mast and sail on board the gig, and now, as soonas it could be erected with safety, he put it up, and the little boatdashed bravely over the waters. The waves had lessened greatly as theday wore on; they no longer rose in such giant masses, but showed merelythe more common proportions. Brandon and Cato now had an opportunity toget some rest from their exhaustive labors. Beatrice at last yieldedto Brandon's earnest request, and, finding that the immediate peril hadpassed, and that his toil for the present was over, she obtained somesleep and rest for herself.

  For all that day, and all that night, and all the next day, the littleboat sped over the waters, heading due east, so as to reach landwherever they might find it, in the hope that the land might not be veryfar away from the civilized settlements of the coast. The provisions andwater which had been put in the boat formed an ample supply, which wouldlast for a long time. Brandon shared with Cato in the management of theboat, not allowing the big man to have more of the labor than himself.

  During these days Brandon and Beatrice were of course thrown into acloser intimacy. At such a time the nature of man or woman becomes mostapparent, and here Beatrice showed a noble calm and a simple trust whichto Brandon was most touching. He knew that she must feel most keenlythe fatigue and the privations of such a life; but her unvaryingcheerfulness was the same as it had been on shipboard. He, too,exhibited that same constancy and resolution which he had alwaysevinced, and by his consideration for Cato showed his natural kindnessof heart.

  "How sorry I am that I can do nothing!" Beatrice would say. "You arekilling yourself, and I have to sit idle and gain my safety at yourexpense."

  "The fact that you are yet safe," Brandon would reply, "is enough forme. As long as I see you sitting there I can work."

  "But can I do nothing? It is hard for me to sit idle while you wear outyour life."

  "You can sing," said Brandon.

  "What?"

  "Langhetti's song," he said, and turned his face away.

  She sang at once. Her tones rose in marvelous modulations; the wordswere not much, but the music with which she clothed them seemed again toutter forth that longing which Brandon had heard before.

  Now, as they passed over the seas, Beatrice sang, and Brandon did notwish that this life should end. Through the days, as they sailed on,her voice arose expressive of every changeful feeling, now speaking ofgrief, now swelling in sweet strains of hope.

  Day thus succeeded to day until the fourth night came, when the winddied out and a calm spread over the waters.

  Brandon, who waked at about two in the morning so as to let Cato sleep,saw that the wind had ceased, and that another one of those treacherouscalms had come. He at once put out the oars, and, directing Cato tosleep till he waked him, began to pull.

  Beatrice remonstrated. "Do not," said she, in an imploring tone. "Youhave already done too much. Why should you kill yourself?"

  "The wind has stopped," answered Brandon. "The calm is treacherous, andno time ought to be lost."

  "But wait till you have rested."

  "I have been resting for days."

  "Why do you not rest during the night and work in the daytime?"

  "Because the daytime is so frightfully hot that work will be difficult.Night is the time to work now."

  Brandon kept at his oars, and Beatrice saw that remonstrances wereuseless. He rowed steadily until the break of day: then, as day wasdawning, he rested for a while, and looked earnestly toward the east.

  A low, dark cloud lay along the eastern horizon, well-defined againstthe sky, which now was growing brighter and brighter every hour. Wasit cloud, or was it something else? This was the question that rose inBrandon's mind.

  The sky grew brighter, the scene far and wide opened up before thegathering light until at last the sun began to appear. Then there was nolonger any doubt. It was LAND.

  This he told to Beatrice; and the Hindu, waking at the same time, lookedearnestly toward that shore which they ha
d been striving so long andso earnestly to reach. It was land, but what land? No doubt it was somepart of the coast of Senegambia, but what one? Along that extensivecoast there were many places where landing might be certain death, orsomething worse than death. Savage tribes might dwell there--eitherthose which were demoralized by dealings with slave-traders, or thosewhich were flourishing in native barbarism. Yet only one course was nowadvisable; namely, to go on till they reached the shore.

  It appeared to be about fifty miles away. So Brandon judged, and so itproved. The land which they had seen was the summit of lofty hills whichwere visible from a great distance. They rowed on all that day. Thewater was calm and glassy. The sun poured down its most fervid beams,the air was sultry and oppressive. Beatrice entreated Brandon now todesist from rowing and wait till the cool of the night, but he wasafraid that a storm might come up suddenly.

  "No," he said, "our only hope now is to get near the land, so that if astorm does come up we may have some place of shelter within reach."

  After a day of exhaustive labor the land was at last reached.

  High hills, covered with palm-trees, rose before them. There was noharbor within sight, no river outlet, but a long, uninterrupted extentof high, wooded shores. Here in the evening they rested on their oars,and looked earnestly at the shore.

  Brandon conjectured that they were somewhat to the north of SierraLeone, and did not think that they could be to the south. At any rate,a southeasterly course was the surest one for them, for they would reacheither Sierra Leone or Liberia. The distance which they might have to gowas, however, totally uncertain to him.

  So they turned the boat's head southeast, and moved in a line parallelwith the general line of the shore. That shore varied in its featuresas they passed along: sometimes depressed into low, wide savannas: atothers, rising into a rolling country, with hills of moderate height,behind which appeared the summits of lofty mountains, empurpled bydistance.

  It was evening when they first saw the land, and then they went onwithout pausing. It was arranged that they should row alternately, asmoderately as possible, so as to husband their strength. Cato rowed forthe first part of that night, then Brandon rowed till morning. On thefollowing day Cato took the oars again.

  It was now just a week since the wreck, and for the last two days therehad not been a breath of wind in the air, nor the faintest ripple onthat burning water. To use even the slightest exertion in such torridheat was almost impossible. Even to sit still under that blighting sun,with the reflected glare from the dead, dark sea around, was painful.

  Beatrice redoubled her entreaties to Brandon that he should rest. Shewished to have her mantle spread over their heads as a kind of canopy,or fix the sail in some way and float idly through the hottest part ofthe day. But Brandon insisted that he felt no evil effects as yet; andpromised when he did feel such to do as she said.

  At last they discovered that their water was almost out, and it wasnecessary to get a fresh supply. It was the afternoon of the seventhday. Brandon had been rowing ever since midday. Beatrice had wound hermantle about his head in the style of an Eastern turban so as to protecthim from the sun's rays. Looking out for some place along the shorewhere they might obtain water, they saw an opening in the line of coastwhere two hills arose to a height of several hundred feet. Toward thisBrandon rowed.

  Stimulated by the prospect of setting foot on shore Brandon rowedsomewhat more vigorously than usual; and in about an hour the boatentered a beautiful little cove shut in between two hills, which formedthe outlet of a river. Far up its winding course could be traced by thetrees along its borders. The hills rose on each side with a steep slope,and were covered with palms. The front of the harbor was shut in fromthe sea by a beautiful little wooded island. Here Brandon rowed the boatinto this cove; and its prow grated against the pebbles of the beach.

  Beatrice had uttered many exclamations of delight at the beauty of thisscene. At length, surprised at Brandon's silence, she cried,

  "Why do you not say something? Surely this is a Paradise after the sea!"

  She looked up with an enthusiastic smile.

  He had risen to his feet. A strange, vacant expression was in his eyes.He made a step forward as if to land. His unsteady foot trembled. Hereeled, and stretched out his arms like some one groping in the dark.

  Beatrice shrieked and sprang forward. Too late: for the next moment hefell headlong into the water.