Читать книгу Red Lion and Blue Star - John Arthur Barry - Страница 6

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It is not putting it too strongly to say that the abduction of his house-flag cast not only a gloom over Captain Bolger's spirits, but over those of the ship's company as well. Any sailor worth his salt believes in his ship, and the Mary Johnson's crowd felt their defeat and disgrace more keenly than the bruises and cuts which smarted so sorely on their bodies.

"We'll never have any luck," said Bolger, despondently, to his mate, "after letting a scowbank of a turnpike-sailor like that get to win'ard of us in such fashion. Why, cuss it, we'll be the laughin'- stock o' the Port o' London if the yarn gets about!"

"Well, we licked 'em ashore, anyhow," replied Hopkins, resignedly, "and if we'd only thought of laying in a ton or two o' holystones, we'd have done it again at sea. And, anyhow, sir, perhaps they won't be inclined to blow about their victory much, seein' as it's a police-court matter. Why, damme, it's piracy on the high seas—comin' aboard and stealing the company's flag that way!"

But Bolger refused to be comforted. Nor did it improve his temper when one day they met a big cargo steamer, with a blue star on her white funnel, whose skipper as she slipped by hailed from her bridge, amidst loud laughter from the crew:—

"There's a chap ahead, yonder, who wants an owner for a house-flag he's picked up somewhere. It's got a red lion on it, and they're using it for a tablecloth in the fok'sle, just at present, till the owner comes along."

Very poor wit, doubtless. But Bolger had no heart to retaliate otherwise than by shaking his fist at the steamer's men, grinning over weather cloths aft and rail for'ard.

"I'm done with the sea," he said to his chief mate. "This is my last trip. Thank the Lord, I've been able to put a bit aside, an' I've got a cottage an' an acre or two o' ground just outside o' Marget. An', anyhow, they were talkin', last time I was home, o' sellin' the Mary to the Norwegians. So let em. I don't want no more sea. It's got beyond my days an' ways."

"Old man's got his lemon down bad," remarked Mr. Hopkins to the second mate; "and I didn't want to trouble him by saying so; but if we'd stopped alongside o' the Terpsic-curry much longer she'd ha' curried us properly. When I took a squint, just before the breeze came, I saw 'em getting up steam in the donkey, and leading hose along the deck. You may bet they meant to try and wash us down with boiling water, or some treat like that. I couldn't stop to fairly make sure what their little game was, for I got a clout with a stone that knocked all the wind out of me."

After a while, it really seemed as if the captain of the Mary Johnson's presentiment of ill-luck was only too well founded; for one night, when running heavily off the Western Islands, she was brought by the lee, taken aback, and all three masts had to be cut away before she righted, a hopeless wreck in the most dreadful accident that can befall a ship. There was a tremendous sea on that constantly swept her decks and gave her crew a terrible night's work to clear the mess of spars and gear that threatened every moment to knock a hole in her sides. By a miracle almost, no one had been killed or carried overboard. But their case seemed hopeless when morning dawned and showed them the naked hull with only three jagged fangs—the tallest not 6ft. high—where so lately had appeared the stately grove of spars. Not a sound boat was left; and, to make matters worse, the carpenter presently reported 3ft. of water in the well.

The skipper setting an example, they went to the pumps, but the big seas that came aboard nearly washed them away from the brakes, rendering their efforts doubly severe and fatiguing. Still they worked on doggedly as only British seamen could have done, and the clank of the pumps sounded incessantly all that long morning watch, whilst the workers' ears eagerly listened for the "suck" that should tell of a dry ship below foot, whatever she might be above. With her naked bows lifted one moment in streaming protest to the shrieking sky, the next buried fathoms deep, the hull lurched and pitched, and rolled in such a shocking fashion as made the oldest sailor sick, and the hearts of all grow faint within them as they marked the wild straining plunges and frantic wallowings, seemingly enough to divorce any timbers ever put together by human hands.

"Three foot ten," said the carpenter, sounding as well as he was able at the end of the last long spell. "I'm afeared she'll never suck no more." And the captain, seeing no use in killing his men for nothing, ordered everybody aft into such shelter as could be found. The saloon was as yet comparatively dry. But nobody cared about staying there, what with the terrific hurly-burly, intensified below, and the knowledge that the ship was sinking. So life-lines being rigged fore and aft the poop, all hands secured themselves and stolidly watched the huge combers that burst across the fore-part of the doomed vessel, at times even sweeping over the poop itself and hurling the men together in half-drowned heaps as the lines slackened under the tremendous pressure.

So the gloomy day wore on, the captain and his mates, at the risk of being swept overboard, twice bringing provisions and drink from the saloon and serving them out to the men.

"We'll drown better full-bellied than fasting," said the old skipper, grimly.

The water was over a man's knees in the saloon now; and the hull no longer tossed and tumbled like a cork, but sagged and floundered heavily and lifelessly amongst the topping seas that encompassed it, rising with difficulty, and seeming glad to sink wearily down between their green slopes.

Late in the afternoon, quite near them, hove up all of a sudden on the awful sea-mountains, they saw a ship; saw her for a minute and then lost her again, then saw her again. She was a big, painted port vessel running under her two lower topsails and a staysail for'ard. And she evidently saw them, for she kept away three or four points and came straight towards the wreck. But the castaways rose no cheer, no hope came into their salt-incrusted faces. Human help in such a sea could avail naught.

The dusk of the evening was at hand, making objects indistinct. But some sailors know a ship they have even only once seen, as Australian bushmen do a horse; and a murmur rose from the crew of the Mary Johnson, lashed to their life-lines, as the stranger, thrown up on the brow of a great comber, leant over held by some invisible hand, as it seemed, a hundred feet above them, and they recognised the Terpsichore.

For a minute she hung there, then disappeared, hidden on the far side of the wall of water that rolled on and broke over the wreck in one great mass of spray and foam from stem to stern. Once more they saw her, topping another and a smaller roller, and noted that from her peak the red ensign now blew out rigid as if made of painted steel. Then a rain-squall hid her, and when it cleared the darkness had fallen.

"A cussed Rooshian or a Turk couldn't ha' done less," growled a sailor.

"Blow it, man,;' retorted another, bitterly, "what more cud he do only give us a last look at the old flag?"

"He might have stood by us," remarked Hopkins to the captain, close to whom he was lashed, "although, come to think of it, there wouldn't be much use in that, for I don't believe the poor old Mary 'll last the night. I wonder if he knew us."

"Aye, aye," growled Bolger. "He'd reco'nise us, right enough. But give the devil his due an' fair play. This weather takes a man all he can do to look out for his own ship without actin' hidey-go-seek around a sinkin' hull. You knows as well as I do that the Channel Squadron an' the Admiral to boot couldn't do us any good by stoppin' to stare at us now. For my part, the sooner it's over the better."

As he spoke, a rocket cleft the murky sky astern of them, succeeded quickly by another and another. A stifled cheer that was half a groan broke from the men as they saw that, after all, they were not deserted. For although no one had acknowledged it, the sight of that vessel apparently leaving them had intensified the bitterness of the death they looked upon as inevitable.

"Why, damme, if he ain't wearin' ship to get to wind'ard of us!" shouted old Bolger. "Well, who'd ha' thought he'd had grit and nous enough to do that in such a sea? Come up all I have ever said agen the chap. See, there goes another rocket! Well, I don't know what good he can do us, even if we last till daylight. Still, it's company, an' puts heart into a man, anyhow. Let's have a drink round—to his health!"

They drank, handing the demijohn of rum from one to the other. And then, with new life in their souls, they made out to find and light a riding-lamp, which they lashed to the stump of the mizzenmast, all with infinite pain and difficulty. But they were rewarded when they saw red, blue, and green stars rise dead to windward, taking it as a sign their signal was understood. And, oh, the comfort through the dreary, dark hours of those other lofty harbingers of hope ascending now here, now there, as the Terpsichore manœuvred so skilfully in that terrible Atlantic weather to keep the weather-gauge. Sometimes she came so close that, but for the roar of the water and yell of the wind, they might have hailed each other; anon she would seem miles away. But always she returned, appearing almost at the same spot—a most noble exhibition of seamanship, that repeatedly brought praise to the lips of those who watched—sore though their plight was.

"Damme," remarked old Bolger, actually with a note of contrition in his hoarse voice, "the feller's a sailor after all, spite o' his haw-haw ways an' dandy togs! Well, who'd ha' thought it? Cuss me, if I ain't sorry that we had that bit of a shine in Sydney—time I give him free rum! However, he's got square for that since—an' boot. Gettin' lower, ain't she, Hopkins, this last hour or so?"

"Feet,' answered the first officer, laconically. "She's like a Thames billyboy 'midships and for'ard."

"An' the win's as strong as ever," added the boatswain. "But hang me if I don't think the sea's gone down a bit!"

And, indeed, the great billows, in place of breaking as formerly, now came in upon them with rounded tops like rolling downs of darkness, lazily, and as if bereft of all their late spite and vigour.

"If she'd had a full freight o' wool she'd ha' floated for days yet, maybe," said the mate, throwing off his bowline. "But it's that infernal dead-weight o' copper ore an' lead an' antimony, an' the Lord knows what, that the water's got amongst, and is forcing its way through. However, sir, here's one who's going to have a swim for it in that smooth stuff. There's just a chance."

"Not me," replied old Bolger, "I'd sooner go down all standin'. But please yourself; it's a free ship now. Halloa, what's the illoomination for?" As he spoke a huge flare lit up the sea, showing the Terpsichore so close to that some of the men mechanically shouted at her whilst she hung on top of one of the sluggish rounded billows, a wondrous figure of a ship standing out silhouetted in yellow flame against the black background of inky sky.

"Why," shouted a man, "sink me, if 'e ain't got his fore-tawp'sl to the mast!"

"Dunder!" bellowed one of the only two foreigners of the crew, jumping in excitement. "He vos lower de boat! Ach Gott, der prave mans as ve vos fight mit!"

But before one could make quite certain, the ship was hidden again, just a yellow flush in the thick air showing where she lay.

When she rose again, however, it could be plainly seen that not one but two boats were in the water, whilst a fresh flare cast its light almost across the intervening stretch of sea, so close had the Terpsichore approached.

"Well, may I be drowned!" exclaimed Bolger, as he eyed with amazement the boats, looking like white flakes on hills of shining ink as they toiled up one huge slope, hidden from sight, then shot like arrows adown the next in full view of the watchers, who swore and cheered in their excitement.

"Heaving lines ready for the brave hearties!" shouted the mate; "they'll be smashed to splinters if they come alongside."

"Why, darn my rags!" exclaimed the boatswain, "if that ain't the skipper o' the Terpsick-hurry hisself at the steer oar o' the first boat." And with that a roaring cheer went up from those on the wreck, Bolger leading, as the skilfully-handled boats swept almost level with the lee poop-rail, and the bow oar in each, catching the lines flung to them, lay off from the heaving, crashing roll of the rising stern, to approach which meant instant destruction.

It was a twenty-foot jump—but there was nothing else for it, as the combers by this time were marching in procession clean over the vessel amidships, whilst where they lay the boats were in some sort sheltered. Still burning tar-barrels and oakum soaked in oil, the Terpsichore had drifted so near that one could see, each time she hove up, white faces eagerly gazing over her rail at the weird scene made almost as light as day—the wreck submerged almost to the break of the poop on which a crowd of men were gathered, the boats rising and falling on the smooth-topped billows moaning in sullen, checked ferocity as they rolled away into the darkness.

The first to jump was a little boy, under whose arms Bolger himself fastened the two lines, one from a boat and the other from the ship, and bade him be of good cheer, for that there was no danger.

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the lad, boldly, and without pause leapt off the rail into the top of a comber, whilst those on board paid out and the boat's crew hauled in. It was ticklish work: but for the light would have been dreadful, and but for the tamed seas impossible.

Half-smothered, the youngster was dragged safely on board. Then another forecastle lad jumped. And then the men went in quick succession as both boats came into use. And most fortunate was it that the captain of the Terpsichore had brought his second life-boat, for, as Bolger, the last man to leave, was hauled in spluttering, gasping, and snorting, the Mary Johnson rose her stern perpendicularly, stayed in that position a minute, and then disappeared.

"Crumbs and scissors!" growled Bolger, as he found his breath. "What's come to the sea? Ugh! it's turned into a cursed oil-tank. I've swallowed quarts of it."

"And no wonder, after all we've used," replied somebody, laughing. "I expect the ship'll be on short allowance of paint from this to home."

"So that's the wrinkle, is it?" said Hopkins. "I've heard of it, but never saw it used before. Anyhow, it's saved a crowd from feeding the fishes this good night of our Lord."

The getting on board the Terpsichore was a difficult business. But it was over at last; and, as the davit-falls were made fast, old Bolger, bareheaded and dripping, pushed his way through the men to where her captain was standing, and, catching the other's hand in a great, hard grip, he shook it heartily, saying:—

"Captain Wayland-Ferrars, I've got to do afore all hands what I never thought could happen. An' that is to apologize fully to ye for everythin' I've done and said about ye and your ship. You're a gentleman, an', sir, you're what's more—an' that's a sailor—man. I'm only a rough old shellback myself, sir, as has lost his ship an' had his day; and I'll ask ye to make allowances. Sir, I'm proud to shake a man's hand who's proved himself able an' willin' to do what you've done this night for me an' mine, an' which there's very few others afloat, as I believe, could ha' done. Now, then, you Mary's," he continued, "a cheer for the Terspic-curry an' her skipper, an' all hands belongin' to her. Crack your throats, my bullies!" And thus ended the feud between the Red Lion and the Blue Star—not yet by any means an old story upon the high seas.