In the silent night, when nothing was heard save that ceaseless music of the screw, the destroying angel came—so silently that only a few were aware of his dread presence—and took away the youth whose sole occupation seemed to have been the watching of the ever-increasing distance from that home which he was destined never again to see. It was inexpressibly sad to those left behind when his coffin was committed to the deep amid the solemn silence that once again ensued on the stoppage of the engines, while the low voice of a pastor prayed for those who wept his departure; but it was not sad for him who had been taken—he had reached the “better home,” and, sitting by the side of Jesus, could doubtless afford to think, at last without longing, of the old home beyond the sea.
Chapter Ten.
Anxieties; Disasters; Hopes
Standing in his accustomed place on the iron floor of the iron chamber, Edgar Berrington watched the grinding of the great crank, and pondered.
He had now been many weeks at sea, and had not once spoken a word to Aileen—had not even seen her more than half-a-dozen times in the far vista of the quarter-deck. Each Sabbath-day, indeed, dressed like his former self, he had worshipped with her in the same saloon, but on these occasions he had kept carefully in the background, had crept quietly down after the others had assembled, had kept in the shadow of the door, and had left before the worshippers had time to rise.
An event, however, was now pending, which was destined to remove his present difficulties in a very unexpected manner, and to saddle on the shoulders of Charles Hazlit, Esquire, difficulties which he had never in all his previous business calculations taken into account.
During most part of the voyage out to China Mr Hazlit’s visage had presented a sea-green aspect, edged with yellow. The great Demon of the sea had seized upon and held him with unwonted avidity and perseverance. It appeared to regard him as fair game—as one whose life had been largely devoted to ploughing up its peculiar domain—or rather, inducing others to plough there—and who was therefore worthy of special attention. At all events, the wealthy merchant did not appear above-board until the lapse of two weeks after leaving his native land. At the end of that period something like the ghost of him crawled on deck one rather fine day, but a demoniac squall rudely sent him below, where he remained until those charming regions of the Equatorial calms were entered. Here a bad likeness—a sort of spoiled photograph—of him again made its appearance, and lay down helplessly on a mattress, or smiled with pathetic sarcasm when food was offered. But soon the calm regions were passed; the Cape of Storms was doubled, and the fierce “south-easters” of the Indian seas were encountered, during which period Mr Hazlit passed away, as one of the things that had been, from the memory of all on board, with the exception of Aileen, the captain, the bed-room steward, and a Christian pastor, who, with his amiable wife, had done much during the voyage for their fellow-passengers.
At last, when the shores of China were approached, and people began to talk earnestly about the end of the voyage, Mr Hazlit’s shade once more made its appearance, with a spot of dark red on each cheek and on the point of his nose. These spots were hopefully regarded as signs of returning health. They did not appear too soon, for the shade would infallibly have vanished altogether if it had been subjected to further attenuation.
“Oh, papa dear, you look so much better to-day!” said Aileen, arranging his shawls as he lay on deck—“quite rosy.”
If she had said port-winy it would have been more in accordance with truth, but Aileen was rather apt to diverge from truth, unintentionally, in speaking of her father.
“I am thankful, dear,” replied the shade in a faint voice, and with a fainter smile. “The captain says we shall be in port in a few days, and then we shall be all right, and—”
“Ha! Shall you?” exclaimed the Demon of the sea, giving the ship a little lurch to starboard, which cut short the merchant’s remarks abruptly; “you think so, do you? Ho! We shall see!”
Following up this inaudible speech with one of those audible howls for which demons are so justly celebrated, he went off in a gust of wind, and summoned to his aid one of those simooms, or monsoons, or typhoons which are in the habit of ravaging the southern seas.
These spirits, quickly obeying the summons, sent not only Mr Hazlit but many of the other passengers to their berths, blew into ribbons the few sails that chanced to be hoisted, boiled up the sea as if in a huge caldron, caused the blackened sky to mingle with the world of waters, rent the firmament with gleaming fire and crashing thunder, and hissed or yelled everywhere in the spirit of wildest revelry.
The Warrior was a splendid steamer, and her commander an able seaman, but neither splendour of material nor power of mind can avert what is decreed.
The storm was prolonged, and raged with unwonted fury, the captain did his best, the good ship behaved nobly, and things went well until the night of the third day. It was at that time so very dark that nothing could be seen farther off than a few yards beyond the bulwarks, where the white-crested waves loomed high in air in a sort of ghostly fashion as if they meant to fall on the deck unawares and sink the ship.
The passengers had by degrees got used to the mad plunging and rolling of their iron home, and even the timid among them began to feel hopeful that after all the gale would be weathered, and the harbour gained.
What the captain thought no one could tell. He remained on the bridge night and day, clad from head to foot in oil-skin garments, facing the furious blast as if it were his native air, watching every motion of his vessel, and gazing intently into the world of ebony ahead as if trying to read his fate there.
The darkness around was almost palpable. Sometimes it seemed as if the vessel were rushing against a mighty rock, that towered high above the masts, but this was only optical illusion, or, perhaps, a denser storm-cloud than usual passing by, for the steamer continued to plough her onward way unchecked, save, now and then, by the bursting on her bows of a monster billow, which caused her to quiver from stem to stern, and swept the decks with green seas fore and aft. One such sea had carried away part of the bulwarks, and swept overboard all the loose material on the decks. Presently, there was a slight diminution in the force of the seas. The captain noted this, and gave orders to get the lead ready to heave.
Deep in the iron chambers below, Edgar Berrington stood—not in his wonted dreamy mood, beside the great crank, but close to the steering-wheel of the engine,—alert, steady, with his hand on the wheel, his eye on the index.
Suddenly the order came, “Half-speed,”—then abruptly followed, “Stop.”
These orders were obeyed instantly.
The lead was hove—the result, “no bottom at thirty fathoms.”
Again Edgar was signalled—“Half-speed,” then—as the captain looked into the darkness ahead, and saw, or thought he saw, it deepen horribly—came the sharp order, “Astern, full-speed!”
Full well did Edgar know that this implied imminent danger. Quick as lightning he reversed the engines.
Next moment there was an appalling crash that overturned everything in the vessel. Our hero was himself wrenched from his position, and hurled against the bulkhead of the boiler-room; the masts went over the sides as if they had been pipe-stems, and the wire-ropes snapt like pack-thread. A moment of appalling silence followed, as if the very elements had suspended their strife, then there came shriek and cry from fore and aft as the passengers rushed frantically about, while above all yelled the escaping steam when Edgar opened the safety-valves.
The spot where they had struck was partially protected by cliffs, that rose like a wall in front. These cliffs turned off the direct force of the gale, but the general turmoil of the sea raised a surf around them which rendered the prospect of effecting a landing a very poor one, even if the vessel should hold together for any length of time. They had not struck on the shore of the mainland, but on a solitary islet or rock, not far from the coast, which rose abruptly out of deep water. Hence the silence of “the lead” as to its presence.
It were vain to attempt a description of the confusion that followed. The few cool and collected men in the ship were powerless at first, but gradually they succeeded in restoring some degree of order. Then the captain explained that being hard and fast on the rocks they could not sink, and that the vessel being strong was likely to hold together, perhaps, for several hours.
“We’re not hard and fast, captain,” said the semi-nautical passenger in an undertone, as he stood by the after-hatch, where most of the cabin passengers were assembled.
He referred to a swinging motion of the wreck, which, however, was so very slight as to be almost imperceptible.
“I know that,” replied the captain, also in an undertone, but somewhat sternly, “we may slip back into deep water, but we’re hard and fast just now, and I shall do my best to keep her so. Don’t you go, sir, and raise needless alarm in the minds of the passengers. See,” he added aloud, pointing towards the east, “day is already breaking; we shall soon have light enough to commence landing. Go below, ladies, and get your bonnet-boxes packed.”
The captain’s mind was far enough from jesting at that moment, but he knew that a quiet joke, possessing a modicum of truth in it, would do more to calm the fears of the timid than solemn advice or reasoning. He was right. Many went to their cabins to look after their most precious treasures, while the officers and men commenced active preparations for escaping to the islet, whose towering cliffs now began to loom heavily through the driving mist and foam.
From the first it was evident that only one mode of escape offered, namely, by means of a rope to the shore, and a running tackle. This material was easily procured and arranged, but the connecting of the rope with the shore was another question. As daylight increased, the island was recognised as a mere uninhabited rock, from which, therefore, no assistance could be expected, and the terrible turmoil of waters that leaped and seethed between the wreck and the cliffs, seemed to all on board, including the captain himself, to be impassable.
At last it became necessary to make an effort, for it was soon discovered that the vessel hung on the edge of a ledge, outside of which the water deepened suddenly to twenty fathoms, and a slip back into that would have been equivalent to certain and immediate death to all on board.
“My lads,” said the captain to the crew, most of whom were assembled with the passengers near the port bow, where the preparations for escaping were going on, “we must have a man to go ashore with that line. I cannot swim myself, else I would not ask for a volunteer. Come; who has got the heart to do a gallant deed, and save these women and children?”
He turned as he spoke, and glanced at the female passengers and children, who crowded under the lee of the cook-house, wet, dishevelled, and terrified, Aileen and her musical friend being among them.
There was no response at first. The men turned with doubtful looks at the furious sea, in the midst of whose white surges black forbidding rocks seemed to rise and disappear, and the surface of which had by that time become much cumbered with portions of wreckage.
“If I could only swim,” growled the boatswain, “I’d try, but I can’t float no more than a stone.”
Others, who looked stout and bold enough to make the venture, seemed to think it might be better to stick to the ship until the sea should go down. Indeed one of them said as much, but the captain interrupted him, and was about to make another appeal, when there was a movement in the crowd, and one of the sub-engineers pushed towards him with the information that a volunteer was ready, and would appear immediately.
“Who is it?” asked the captain.
“Mr Berrington, sir; he’s getting ready.”
“The chief engineer!” exclaimed the captain. “Good; if there’s a man in the ship can do it, he is the man.”
Aileen, standing somewhat back in the crowd, thought she had caught a familiar sound!
“Who is going to make the venture?” she inquired of a man near her.
“The chief engineer, Miss, I believe.”
At the moment the crowd opened and our hero came forward, clothed only in a shirt and duck trousers. His face was not streaked with professional paint on this occasion. It beamed with the flush and the latent fire of one who feels that he has made up his mind deliberately to face death.
“Oh! It’s the man with the handsome figure,” gasped Lintie, with a wild look of surprise.
Aileen did not now require to be told who it was. Unlike heroines, she neither screamed nor fainted, but through the wonder which shone in her eyes she shot forth another look,—one of proud confidence,—which Edgar caught in passing, and it rendered his power and purpose irresistible. The stern work before him, however, was not compatible with soft emotions. Seizing the end of the light line which was ready, he tied it firmly round his waist and leaped into the raging sea, while an enthusiastic cheer burst from the crew.
At first it seemed as if the youth had been endowed with superhuman powers, so vigorously and with such ease did he push through the surf and spurn aside the pieces of wreck that came in his way; but as his distance from the vessel increased, and the surging foam bore him in among the rocks, he received several blows from a piece of the floating bulwarks. Once also he was launched with terrible violence against a rock. This checked him a little. Still, however, he swam on, apparently unhurt, while the people on board the wreck gazed after him with inexpressible eagerness. They not only thought of the imminent danger of the gallant youth, but fully realised the probability that his failure would be the sealing of their own doom.
As he drew near to the rocks on shore, a mass of wreck was seen to rise on the crest of the surf close to the swimmer’s side and fall on him. An irresistible cry of despair burst from those in the ship. Some one shouted to haul on the line and pull him on board, and several seamen sprang to do so, but the captain checked them, for through his glass he could see Edgar struggling to free himself from the wreck. In a few minutes he succeeded, and the next wave hurled him on the rocky shore, to which he clung until the retreating water had lost its power. Then he rose, and struggling upwards, gained a ledge of rock where he was safe from the violence of the waves.
It need scarcely be said that his success was hailed with three tremendous cheers, and not a few deep and fervent exclamations of “Thank God” from some who regarded the young engineer’s safety as a foretaste of their own. Some there were, however, who knew that the work which yet remained to be done was fraught with danger as well as difficulty. This work was commenced without delay.
By means of the light line which he had carried ashore, Edgar hauled the two ends of a stouter line or small rope from the wreck. These two ends he quickly spliced together, thus making the rope an endless one, or, as seamen have it, an endless fall. The other loop, or bight, of this endless double-rope was retained on the wreck, having been previously rove through a block or pulley which was attached to the broken fore-mast about ten feet above the deck—in accordance with our “rocket apparatus” directions. In fact, the whole contrivance, got up so hastily at this time, was just an extemporised rocket apparatus without the rocket—Edgar having already performed the duty of that projectile, which is to effect communication between wreck and shore.
By means of the endless fall our hero now hauled a heavy rope or cable from the wreck, the end of which he fastened round a large boulder. This rope, being hauled taut, remained suspended between the wreck and the cliffs some feet above the sea. Previous to fixing it a large block had been run upon it, and to this block was suspended one of those circular cork life-preservers which one usually sees attached to the bulwarks of ships. It was made into a sort of bag by means of a piece of canvas. The endless fall was then attached to this bag so that it could travel with its block backwards and forwards on the thick cable.
The first who passed from the wreck to the shore by means of this contrivance was a stout seaman with two very small children in charge. The man was sent partly to give the passengers confidence in the safety of the mode of transit, and partly that he might aid Edgar in the working of the tackle. The next who passed was the mother of the children. Then followed Aileen, and after her the sweet singer. Thus, one by one, all the females and children on board were borne in safety to land.
After these the male passengers commenced to go ashore. A few of the older men were sent first. Among them was Mr Hazlit.
The unfortunate merchant was so weak as to be scarcely equal to the exertion of getting over the side into the life-buoy or bag, and he was so tall that, despite the efforts he made to double himself together, there was so much of him above the machine that he had a tendency to topple over. This would have mattered nothing if he had possessed even a moderate degree of power to hold on, but his hands were as weak as those of a child. However, the case being desperate, he made the attempt, and was sent away from the wreck with many earnest cautions to “hold on tight and keep cool.”
You may be sure that his progress was watched with intense anxiety by Aileen, who stood close to Edgar as he hauled in the rope carefully.
“Oh! He will fall out,” she cried in an agony as the rope dipped a little, and let him just touch the roaring surf, when he was somewhat more than half way over.
Edgar saw that her fears were not unlikely to be realised. He therefore gave the rope to the seaman who had first come ashore, with orders to haul steadily.
Owing to its position and the dipping of the life-buoy with its burden, the cable formed a pretty steep slope from the shore. Throwing himself on the cable, Edgar slid swiftly down this incline until stopped by the buoy. The effect of course was to sink the machine deeper than ever, insomuch that poor Mr Hazlit, unable any longer to withstand the buffeting, threw up his arms with a cry of despair. Edgar caught him as he was falling over.
“Here, put your arms round my neck,” he cried, struggling violently to fix himself firmly to the life-buoy.
The merchant obeyed instantly, giving the youth an embrace such as he had never expected to receive at his hands! Even in that moment of danger and anxiety, Edgar could not help smiling at the gaze of unutterable wonder which Mr Hazlit cast on him through the salt water—if not tears—that filled his eyes, for he had not seen the youth when he jumped overboard.
“Haul away!” shouted our hero; but the words were stifled by a sea which at the moment overwhelmed them.
The man at the line, however, knew what to do. He and some of the passengers hauled steadily but swiftly on the line, and in a few seconds the buoy, with its double freight, was brought safe to land. Mr Hazlit was carried at once by his rescuer to a recess in the cliffs which was partially protected from the storm, and Edgar, after doing what he could to place him comfortably on the ground, left him to the care of his daughter.
On his return to the beach he found the passengers who had been saved in a state of great alarm because of the slipping backwards of the wreck, which strained the cable so much that it had become as rigid as a bar of iron. He began, therefore, to ply the means of rescue with redoubled energy, for there were still some of the passengers and all the crew on board; but suddenly, while the buoy was being sent out for another freight, the cable snapt, the wreck slid off the shelf or ledge on which it had hung so long, and sank in deep water, leaving nothing save a momentary whirlpool in the surf to tell where the splendid ocean palace had gone down.
The horror that filled the minds of those who witnessed the catastrophe cannot be described. A feeling of dreary desolation and helplessness followed the sudden cessation of violent energy and hopeful toil in which most of them had been previously engaged. This was in some degree changed, if not relieved, by the necessity which lay on all to lace the vicissitudes of their new position.
That these were neither few nor light soon became apparent, for Edgar and the seaman, after an hour’s investigation, returned to their friends with the information that they had been cast on a small rocky islet, which was uninhabited, and contained not a vestige of wood or of anything that could sustain the life of man. Thus they were left without shelter or food, or the means of quitting the inhospitable spot—not, however, without hope, for one of the seamen said that he knew it to be an isle lying not very far from the mainland, and that it was almost certain to be passed ere long by ships or native boats.
On further search, too, a spring of fresh water was discovered, with sufficient grass growing near it to make comfortable beds for the women and children. The grass was spread under the shelter of an overhanging cliff, and as the weather was warm, though stormy, the feelings of despair that had at first overwhelmed young and old soon began to abate. During the day the gale decreased and a hot sun came out at intervals, enabling them to dry their soaking garments.
That night, taking Edgar aside, Mr Hazlit thanked him warmly for preserving his life.
“But,” said he, seriously, “forgive me if I at once broach a painful subject, and point out that our positions are not changed by this disaster. Much though I love my life I love my daughter’s happiness more, and I would rather die than allow her to marry—excuse me, Mr Berrington—a penniless man. Of course,” continued the merchant, with a sad smile as he looked around him, “it would be ridiculous as well as ungrateful were I to forbid your holding ordinary converse with her here, but I trust to your honour that nothing more than ordinary converse shall pass between you.”
“My dear sir,” replied the youth, “you greatly mistake my spirit if you imagine that I would for one moment take advantage of the position in which I am now placed. I thank God for having permitted me to be the means of rendering aid to you and Ai— your daughter. Depend upon it I will not give you reason to regret having trusted my honour. But,” (he hesitated here) “you have referred to my position. If, in time and through God’s goodness, I succeed in improving my position; in gaining by industry a sufficiency of this world’s pelf to maintain Aileen in a condition of comfort approaching in some degree that in which she has been brought up, may I hope—may I—”
Mr Hazlit took the young man’s hand and said, “You may;” but he said it sadly, and with a look that seemed to imply that he had no expectation of Edgar ever attaining to the required position.
Satisfied with the shake of the hand, our hero turned abruptly away, and went off to ruminate by the sea-shore. At first he was filled with hope; then, as he thought of his being penniless and without influential friends, and of the immense amount of money that would have to be made in order to meet the wealthy merchant’s idea of comfort, he began to despair. Presently the words came to his mind—“Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass.” This revived him, and he began to run over in his mind all sorts of wild plans of making a huge fortune quickly! Again a word came to him—“Make not haste to be rich.”
“But what is making haste?” he thought, and his conscience at once replied, “Taking illegitimate courses—venturesome speculation without means—devotion of the soul and body to business in such a way as to demoralise the one and deteriorate the other—engaging in the pursuit of wealth hastily and with eager anxieties, which imply that you doubt God’s promise to direct and prosper all works committed to Him.”
“My plan, then,” thought Edgar, “is to maintain a calm and trusting mind; to be diligent in fulfilling present duty, whatever that may be; to look about for the direction that is promised, and take prompt advantage of any clear opportunity that offers. God helping me, I’ll try.”
Strong in his resolves, but, happily, stronger in his trust, he returned to the cavern in which his companions in misfortune had already laid them down to rest, and throwing himself on a bed of grass near the entrance, quickly fell into that profound slumber which is the perquisite of those who unite a healthy mind to a sound body.