Chapter Forty One.
The boat we were in rose as a long rolling swell which lifted the bows passed under it and swept on, while I gazed in awe at the falling pieces of burning wood, which were for the most part quenched in the sea, though others floated and blazed, shedding plenty of rays of light, and showing two boats being rowed with all the power of their occupants right away from where the ship rocked slowly, half hidden by a dense canopy of smoke which hung overhead.
The great waves of burning spirit were there no more. It was as if they had suddenly been blown cut, and in their place there were volumes of smoke, through which, dimly-seen, were sparks and patches of smouldering wood. And as the burning pieces which were floating here and there gradually died out, a strangely weird kind of gloom came over the scene, which grew more and more dim till the sea was black once more, and the sole light came from the ship—a feeble, lurid glow nearly hidden by steam and smoke.
And now we were half-stifled by the smell of the exploded powder and the steam evolved when the burning fragments fell in all directions, to be quenched over acres of water around the ship. It was a dank, hydrogenous odour, which made me hold my fingers to my nose till I forgot it in the interest with which I watched the ship. For Mr Brymer said sadly, but in a low voice, for fear that a boat should be within hearing—
“Poor old girl! she ought to have had a few more voyages before this. She’ll go down directly.”
But the minutes passed, and the ship still floated and burned slowly, though it was a different kind of burning now. No soft floats of spirit-blaze rose gently and silently, but little sluggish bits of fire burned here and there where the tar had melted, and the flame was yellow and the smoke black; in other places where the wood had caught there were vicious hissings, spittings, and cracklings, as if it were hard work to burn. And so hard did it seem in some places that the scraps of wood gave it up as a bad job, and went out.
But there was plenty of mischief still in the hold, from whence a dense body of smoke rose, the rolling volumes being dimly-seen by the reflections cast upon them, and tingeing the suffocating vapour of a dull red.
We sat there almost in perfect silence, watching the ship for quite an hour; but though she was expected from moment to moment to heel over a little first to one side, then to the other, she still floated upon an even keel, and her masts with their unfilled sails retained their places. But we dared go no nearer for fear of the death-agonies of the monster coming on, and our being sucked down into the vortex she made as she plunged beneath the sea which had borne her triumphantly so many times in the past.
The desire was strong amongst us to begin talking, but Mr Brymer forbade a word being spoken.
“Jarette may be waiting somewhere close at hand with his two boats, till he has seen the last of the ship. We have had troubles enough; we do not want to increase them by a fresh encounter with the scoundrel.”
So there we sat watching, with the dull smouldering still going on in the hold of the ship. Sometimes it flashed up a little, and promised to blaze fiercely; but it was only a spasmodic attempt, and it soon settled down again to the dull smouldering, with a few vicious sparks rising here and there to hide themselves in the dull, rolling clouds, and we were in momentary expectation of seeing the vapour-enshrouded masts begin to describe arcs in the cloud, and then slowly settle down after the sinking vessel. And as I watched and calculated, I seemed to see the water rising slowly around the faintly-marked black hull, till it covered the ports, reached the deck, and then began to pour over into the burning hold, when of course there would be a fierce hissing, steam would rise in volumes, which would cover the clouds of smoke, and then all would be over, and we should be left on the wide ocean to try and fight our way to the land.
How dim the sparks and tiny, darting flames grew, and how black the ship! I listened for the splash of oars, and the sound of voices; but I heard neither for a time, and then only in faint whisperings, whose import I could not grasp.
Then our silence was broken by a slight moaning, for the doctor had gone to attend Walters, where he still lay insensible; and after that I faintly grasped the fact that in that darkness aft Mr Frewen had been attending to the captain and to Mr Denning. But I knew it all in a very misty way, and then I knew nothing whatever, for everything was a blank till I started up excitedly, and Mr Brymer said—
“Steady, my lad, steady; nobody is going to throw you overboard.”
I had been asleep for hours, and I moved out of the way now, feeling ashamed to look round; but when I did, it was to see that Mr Brymer, I, and two more were the only people awake.
“Then the ship hasn’t sunk,” I said, as I looked at her about five hundred yards away, with a pillar of smoke rising out of her hold, and the masts, yards, and sails all in their places intact.
“Yes; she still floats,” said Mr Brymer, quietly; “and we are going closer to see how she stands.”
“Where are Jarette and the men?”
“They rowed away to the east,” replied Mr Brymer, “and are quite out of sight.”
“Then we can talk aloud,” I cried.
“Ay, and shout if you like.”
It was morning, and there were signs of the sun being just about to roll up above the smooth sea, as the men gently dipped their oars so as not: to waken the sleepers, and the boat began to move softly toward the ship.
“It is a puzzle to me that she has not gone down, Dale,” said Mr Brymer, in a low voice. “That explosion was enough to drive out her sides, as well as rip up her deck; and I am beginning to think that after all she may float.”
“But she is on fire still,” I said; “and though burning slowly, the fire must be eating its way through the bottom.”
“Perhaps not, my lad,” he replied. “There was an immense amount of cargo solidly stowed below, and it may be only that which is burning.”
“But you will not venture to go on board?” I said.
“Why not, my lad?”
“She may suddenly sink.”
“She does not look now as if she would; at all events not during this calm. Yes; I am going on board, and you may come too if you like.”
I looked at him wonderingly, and felt a strange shrinking; but I fancied that I could detect a faint smile at the corner of his lip, and this touched me home, and made me speak at once.
“Very well,” I said. “I’ll go with you, sir.”
“That’s right, my lad,” he said, laying his hand on my shoulder. “Why, Dale, you will be chief mate of some ship, young as you are, almost before I get to be captain. But we won’t waste time passing compliments. What should you say if we find that the old ship is strong enough to carry us into port?”
“Oh, it is impossible,” I cried.
“Not so impossible perhaps after all; but we are getting near, and we’ll see.”
“But suppose she is so near sinking that the addition of our weight proves to be enough to make her begin settling down?”
“Well, I should be greatly surprised if it did,” he said with a smile. “But we’ll be on the safe side. As soon as we mount on deck through the cabin-window, the boat shall be backed out of the way of danger, and our first task shall be to cut loose a couple of the life-buoys. Then, if the ship drags us down, we shall be sure to rise again and float.”
I could not help a shudder at the idea of being dragged down in such a horrible vortex, perhaps to be entangled in some part of the rigging, and never rise again; and seeing what I was thinking, Mr Brymer laughed.
“No fear, my lad. She will not sink now, unless there is a storm; perhaps not even then. Row right round, my lads,” he continued to Bob Hampton and Barney; and we made a circuit of the ship, passing from astern right forward, without the hull showing any damage; and though Mr Brymer touched her just about opposite to where the principal body of smoke arose, there was no perceptible heat to be felt. Then as we pressed on under the bowsprit, I looked up at the bob-stay and the rigging about that spritsail where I had climbed; and we began to go back on the other side, to find the hull intact, and no sign of damage, but here the side was decidedly warm. Then on to the stern and under the first window, where a rope was still hanging out.
“Will you go first, Dale, or shall I?” said Mr Brymer.
For answer I began to climb, and in a very short time reached the window and crept in.
Then the rope was drawn taut again, and the mate climbed in after me, turned, and spoke gently—
“Row aft about a hundred yards, my lads. It is only for form’s sake.” And as the men began to paddle gently away, he said to me quietly—
“There is no fear of her going down, Dale, for many hours, if at all. I want to see what damage there is forward, and whether we can come aboard and attack the fire with any chance of success.”
“But shall we not be safer in the boat?” I said.
“Most decidedly not. And fancy, boy, there are three sick and wounded people, and a lady! It is our duty to study them, and besides, after all, we may save the ship.”
This sent a thrill of enthusiasm through me as we passed out of the cabin, littered with all kinds of stores and fittings, out along the damaged saloon, and thence through the companion on to the deck, which was blackened with pieces of burnt wood, scraps of a heterogeneous kind that had probably been sent skyward by the explosions, to fall back half-charred.
The smell of burnt powder now was terrible, and I could not help stopping.
“What is it?” said Mr Brymer.
“Do you think there is any more powder below?” I said, as I thought of the possibility of another explosion.
“Indeed I don’t,” said the mate, decisively. “Not a grain. It is all honest fire, my lad, smouldering away in the cargo, and waiting for a little encouragement in the shape of wind to burst out into an unconquerable blaze.”
We had been advancing again through the charred embers and fragments, to stand at last by a large ragged cavity, torn up in the deck. The whole of the hatches and combings were blasted away, and a clean sweep had been made for fully thirty feet onward, and twenty or so across; and everywhere was of a blackish grey, showing the effects of the blasting-powder. Still there was room enough on both sides to walk along by the hole; and as we looked down we could see that, in spite of the destruction, with one exception the great cross-beams which supported the deck were intact.
“She will not sink, Dale,” said the mate, quietly; and as a feeling of confidence on that question made me feel better, the fire suddenly flamed up in one place, burning briskly with a good deal of crackling and sputtering, making me feel doubtful of the ship’s stability on that side.
Mr Brymer gave me a nod, meant for encouragement, as he went on—
“All the force of the powder went upwards, as it usually does. If it had been dynamite, the explosion would have struck down, driving out the bottom, and then of course the ship would have sunk.”
“But the fire!” I said; and the anxiety I felt affected my voice, making it sound husky.
“Oh, the fire,” he said coolly. “We must fight that. It is dangerous, but the explosive spirit has burned out, or been destroyed; the powder has gone, and we have nothing to fear now but the slow working of our friend or enemy, whichever you make it.”
“But it may burst out furiously at any moment.”
“It may, my lad, but I hardly think it possible. Of course a great deal of the cargo is highly combustible, but things will not burn quickly without room and plenty of air. Fire shut in only smoulders, and eats its way slowly, as you see it there. Come, I think we may hail the boat, and get our friends on board.”
“But do you think it will be safe?”
“Safer than leaving them in an open boat.”
“But the mast—the main-mast? Suppose the fire has eaten its way through that?”
“If it had the mast would fall; but the fire has worked forward, and, as far as I can see, the mast is untouched. Run up to the main-top, it is clear now. Have a look round, to see if you can make out the two boats with our friends.”
I looked at him sharply, and he laughed. “Not afraid that the main-mast will give way with your weight, are you?”
I felt the colour burn in my cheeks at this, for he had read my thoughts exactly; and without another word, I sprang to the side, climbed above the main-chains, and made my way upwards. But I had not gone far before, as I rose higher and more over the burning hold, I became aware of a hot, stifling fume, and the irritating smoke which rose from beneath me.
But I persevered, and though it increased for a time, a few feet higher still the oppressive sensation of breathing these hot fumes grew less; and by the time I had reached and climbed into the top, the smoke was so much dissipated as to trouble me very little indeed.
The moment I was up I laid hold of a rope and began to look round, my eyes falling, naturally enough, first upon our boat lying a short distance away, with Mr Frewen, who had just awakened, bending over Walters; and I watched him anxiously, to see if I could make out how my messmate was. But I was brought back from thoughts of him and his position by the mate’s voice, as he hailed me from the deck.
“Well,” he said, “what can you see?” I looked sharply round before answering, and there was the wide sea in all directions, glistening in the morning sunshine. “Nothing,” I said at last. “Try again. Take a good look round, my lad. The boats look small in the distance. They can hardly have passed out of sight.”
I shaded my eyes, and looked long and carefully east, west, north, and south, but could see nothing, and said so.
“Well, that’s good news; but I don’t want them to see that the ship is still floating, and come back again. Go up to the main-topgallant mast-head, and have a look from there.”
I mounted higher, and reached the head, to pause there and survey, but as far as I could see there was nothing visible.
“That will do; come down,” shouted Mr Brymer; and I descended as quickly as I could to the deck, when we took a hurried peep at the forecastle, to find there and in the galley plenty of traces of the hurried departure of Jarette and the crew.
“They do not seem to have been disposed to stop for the explosion, Dale,” said Mr Brymer, smiling. “Now let’s hail the boat, and have our friends on board.”
“But do you really think it safe for them to come?” I said again.
“I told you before, my lad, safer than in an open boat. My good fellow, escaping as we were last night, we were glad to do anything; but think of the sufferings of Miss Denning and our wounded in such close quarters! They must come on board while we fight the fire; and if matters get too bad, there will be the boat all ready, swinging astern, and we can take to it.”
The boat was hailed, one of the gangways amidships opened, and by means of a sling, which Bob Hampton and Barney soon had rigged, Miss Denning and our invalids were quickly hauled on deck. Then after the boat had been made fast, they were left in charge of the doctor and Mr Preddle, who had orders to join us as soon as the sufferers were attended to in the cabin; while Mr Brymer led us forward to see if something could not be done to save the ship.
Chapter Forty Two.
Ours appeared to be a herculean task, for the fire had been burning many hours now, as after a little examination Mr Brymer decided that it would be best to attack it from the starboard side, where a bold man could approach the worst part and pour in water from buckets if the hose from the pump could not be brought to bear.
As I looked down into the blackened hold, surrounded by the jagged planks of the deck, which had been splintered and torn in the most wonderful way, the place looked to me like what I had always imagined a volcano to be. This was very small, of course; but there was the glowing centre, from which arose a column of smoke towering and curling up for some distance, and then spreading out like a tree.
The glow of the smouldering fire could be seen, but with the sun now shining brilliantly its appearance was anything but terrible, the greater light completely dimming the lesser; but as I stepped out on to the beam from which the planks had been torn by the explosion, I was made fully aware of the danger being great, for a peculiar dizziness suddenly seized me, and I was caught by the collar and dragged back to the strip of ragged deck on the starboard side.
“None o’ them games, Mr Dale, sir,” said a gruff voice in my ear, as I clung to the bulwark, and a cold perspiration gathered on my forehead.
“Anything the matter?” cried Mr Brymer.
“Not much, sir,” growled the sailor; “on’y Mr Dale, here, trying to dive down into the hold to look for the fire.”
“Why, Dale!” cried Mr Brymer, hurrying up from where he had been forward examining the hose left by the mutineers after their feeble attempt to extinguish the fire, “did the fumes attack you?”
“Yes,” I said faintly, as I pressed my hands over my forehead; “I suppose it was that.”
“Some’at queer burning below, sir,” growled Bob Hampton.
“Or the gas from the combustion,” said the mate, leading me a little more from the part where the smoke arose.
“Pretty nigh combusted him, sir, if I hadn’t got hold on his arm.”
“Well, it’s a warning for us,” said Mr Brymer. “Now then, come and pass this hose along.”
I felt better now, and walked forward to where the pump was rigged, and helped to drag the hose along the narrow path beneath, the bulwarks to where Neb Dumlow was now stationed with the brass nozzle at the end of the canvas tube, and Mr Brymer instructed him how to direct the stream of water as soon as the pump was started.
“Better let me pump, sir,” he grumbled. “I understands that a deal better.”
“I set you to this, man, because of your wound. You are not fit to take your turn at the pump.”
“Well, I like that, sir. It makes me mut’nous, it do. Why, you wants all the strength yonder to take spells in pumping,” grumbled Dumlow; “wants men, don’t yer, while this here’s boy’s work, or might be done by the gal. A baby could handle this squirt.”
“If you can pump, for goodness’ sake go forward, and don’t talk now,” cried Mr Brymer, impatiently. “Here, Dale, is that sickness gone off?”
“Oh, yes,” I cried eagerly.
“Take the branch, then, and direct the stream. Right down, mind, where the glow rises. As he says, we want all our strength there, and you can serve us better here.”
I seized the brass nozzle and held it ready.
“Be careful,” cried Mr Brymer. “Keep back so that the fumes don’t overcome you, and call out if you want help.”
I nodded, and he hurried forward, while as I stood there in the hot sunshine waiting for the water to come, I directed the nozzle so as to strike one particular part of the smouldering ruins just beside where the great spiral of smoke rose up.
The next minute clink-clank came the strokes of the double-handled pump, invisible to me, for it was on the far side of the smoke which rose from the forward part of the deck. But no water came, and after a minute or two I heard them talking loudly, and the clanking ceased. Then came the splash of a bucket over the side, and though I could see nothing, I could picture the throwing down of that bucket, and the handing of it up with the sparkling of the water as it streamed back; and I knew what the gurgling and splashing meant, as the contents freshly drawn were poured into the top of the pump.
Then the clanking began again, and I waited listening to the steady working up and down of the handles, and the strange, gasping, sucking sounds which rose hollowly from the piston.
But still no water came, and I listened to the splash of the bucket as the process of filling the big barrel of the pump was repeated. Then clang-clank again, with gurgling, hissing, and splashing; and I felt that the pump must be broken or worn-out.
“They will have to take to the buckets,” I said half-aloud; and in fancy I saw what a slow, laborious task that would be, and how hopeless it was to imagine that, short-handed as we were, we could cope with that terrible fire steadily eating its way down through the cargo, and which would certainly before long burst forth with uncontrollable fury.
“It’s all over,” I said to myself; and my heart sank once more as I began to think that we ought before long to get back to the boat, and trust to it alone, for although open and comparatively frail, it would not have a terrible enemy on board, insidiously waiting to destroy us.
“Oh, how disappointing!” I muttered, as I passed the metal nozzle from my right to my left hand, so as to wipe the perspiration from my face, when all at once there was a quick, throbbing sensation; something ran through my left hand. There was a splash, a hiss, and a cry, and Mr Preddle rushed back into the shelter of the main-mast, from behind which he had suddenly appeared.
“Oh, I say, Mr Dale,” he shouted, “you shouldn’t!”
The stream of water had come with a sudden rush, and struck him full in his smooth, plump, round face.
I tried to say, “I beg your pardon,” but I was choking with laughter and could not speak. But I could act, for I rapidly changed the nozzle back to my right hand, and directed it down at the spot I had selected for my attack, and as the clear, bright jet of water struck the smouldering cargo the effect was startling.
That fire might almost have been some fierce, dragon-like monster, suddenly attacked by its most deadly foe, for in an instant there was a savage hiss, followed by a series of crackling explosions, sputtering, popping, and shrieking even. For the steam began to generate and rush up from the hold, instantaneously changing from its natural invisibility to dense white clouds of vapour, which rose and spread, and grew so thick that I could not see where to direct the jet of water, but had to trust to my ear for the spot to attack.
“Hurray! hurray!” came faintly from forward, where the pump clanked steadily; and I responded to the cheer, but my voice was stilled by the hissing and shrieking arising from the hold. But I cheered again, and kept on, feeling quite excited, and more and more as if I were attacking a den of dragons, or serpents, so strangely unusual were the noises which followed every fresh direction of the stream.
“I say, Dale, you shouldn’t, you know,” came from close by me, in a tone full of protest; and I quite started to see Mr Preddle’s face looming out of the mist in which I was closely enveloped, and which grew more and more dense each minute.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I shouted.
“Oh, don’t say that, Dale,” he cried back, the voice sounding very peculiar through the hissing and shrieking of the steam. “I am quite ready to forgive you, my dear boy.”
“But I didn’t really,” I yelled.
“Oh, Dale, don’t—don’t! Why, I saw you take aim at me with that thing across this dreadful gap.”
“I—can’t talk—now,” I shouted. Then, contradicting myself,—“Going to help pump?”
“Yes; but what a fearful noise!—and you have made me so wet.”
“How are you getting on?” shouted Mr Frewen. “That’s right.”
I could not see him for the steam; but his voice came from the other side of the deck, and I must have altered the direction of the jet a little, for a fresh series of explosions arose to prove how much more serious the hidden fire was than we could judge it to be from what was visible.
Crick, crack, sputter, and then report after report, as loud as those made by a revolver, while each steam-shot was followed by a ball of white vapour which came rushing up as from the mouth of a gun.
“Hurrah!” came from by the pump again, and Mr Preddle came slowly along to pass me and get forward.
“I suppose I can get by you,” he said.
“No, no; don’t try it,” I cried excitedly. “I must not stir, and there is so little room. Go back and round with Mr Frewen.”
“No, no; I daren’t.”
“The fire isn’t there,” I said, as the screaming and hissing were louder than ever.
“I’m not so much afraid of the fire as I am of the water,” cried Mr Preddle. “You want to squirt me again.”
I couldn’t say “I don’t,” for his words tickled and yet annoyed me, so that I felt that I really did want to deluge him with the water from head to foot.
“Will you promise me not to squirt if I go that way?” he shouted.
“Honour—bright,” I yelled. “Couldn’t see you.”
That was a fact, for from cut of the hold, and spreading all over the ship, the dense white fumes hid everything; and though Mr Preddle was now only about a yard away, I could not see anything but a dim, blurred patch; while facing me a dull, luminous disk all blurred and hidden from time to time showed where the sun was dealing his slanting beams.
“Well, I’m going to trust you,” said Mr Preddle, “and I beg you will not do it again.”
“All right,” I shouted; and the next minute I felt that I was alone to carry on the war against the enemy below.
“How stupid of him to think that!” I said aloud, with a laugh.
“I don’t see anything stupid. It was stupid of you to play tricks at such a time,” said Mr Preddle.
“Why I thought you were gone,” I shouted.
“No; I waited to see whether you were going to keep your word,” he replied; and then I heard no more till Mr Brymer shouted—
“Want any help, Dale?”
“No, sir.”
“Steam too much for you?”
“No, sir; all right. I’ll call if I want help.”
The pump clanked steadily on, and without any more than a half-stoppage as they made a change for resting, and I kept on searching out the hottest places by following up the loudest hissing and sputtering of the water as it changed into steam, and rose and floated upward till I thought that if the mutineers were able to see it, they would conclude that the ship was burning right away to the water’s edge, for the steam, as it floated up in that huge volume, would have all the appearance of smoke.
Then I started, for from close behind me came Mr Brymer’s voice—
“How are you getting on, my lad?”
“I don’t know; I can’t see.”
“No, but I can. Capitally,” he cried. “There must be a tremendous body of fire down below; far more than I thought.”
“But is there any fear of our pumping too much down and sinking the ship after all?”
Mr Brymer burst into a cheery laugh.
“I don’t think we should sink her by our pumping, Dale. We should get tired first, I’m afraid. Why, my good lad, I don’t know whether my calculation is right, but I should say that half the water you send down there must float up again in steam.”
“Think so, sir?” I shouted, altering the direction of the jet a little, and feeling startled at the consequences, for the shrieking and hissing which followed became deafening.
“I’m sure,” shouted my companion. “Quite below in my calculation. You can keep on, can’t you?”
“Oh yes,” I said.
“That’s right. I couldn’t do it better. Go on; every drop’s telling in extinguishing the fire, or wetting other parts of the cargo so that they will not burn. But what a fiery furnace it is! I had no idea it was so bad.”
“Do you think—” I began.
“Yes—what?”
“That it has burned through to the ship’s bottom?”
“No; and it will not now,” he shouted. “There is so much heat there that an immense body of steam must be rising, and that will help to extinguish the fire.”
“Then I am doing some good, sir?”
“Good? Yes; you are winning the fight. I must get back now, and relieve Mr Preddle. I left him and the doctor pumping.”
I did not hear him go, but when I spoke again there was no answer, and I devoted all my energy to my task, though it had become so monotonous that my thoughts began to stray, and I found myself wondering how matters were going in the cabin—whether they were very much alarmed by the noise of the steam, or whether they felt as confident as the mate did about our ultimate mastery of the fire, and how Walters and Mr Denning were.
Just then a gruff, familiar voice came out of the steam behind me.
“Mr Brymer’s orders, sir, as you’re to hand me the nozzle, and go aft and get a refresher. Says you must be choked enough.”
“Did he order me to go, Bob?” I said.
“That’s it, sir. Give’s hold.”
I handed the nozzle.
“Talk about a fog,” he cried; “this is a wunner. I say, Mr Dale.”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like something good being cooked, don’t it? I s’pose there’ll be a bit o’ something to eat soon. I’m growing streaky, and could eat anything, from biscuit up to bull-beef. Well, what’s the matter?” he cried, as a fiercer shrieking came along with clouds of vapour. “That go in the wrong place? Well, will that do?”
He shifted the direction of the nozzle, but the noise was as bad as ever.
“Well, you are hard to please, and you’ll have to take it now as I like to give it you, so off you go, my lad.”
“All right, Bob,” I replied; “I’m going,” and saturated with the moisture of my strange vapour-bath, I went along the narrow passage by the bulwarks, to find to my astonishment that I had walked out of a dense fog into the clear sunshine; and when I looked back, it was to see the white vapour towering up as if to reach the skies.
Chapter Forty Three.
I was faint and hungry, but I could not help standing there for a few minutes in the hot sunshine, which sent a pleasant glow through my damp clothes, and watching the wonderful great wreaths of steam rolling and circling up in the bright light, which made them look as if the pearly lining of sea-shells were there in a gaseous state in preparation before sinking in solution down into the sea.
Here the wreaths looked soft and pearly and grey, there they were flushed with a lovely pink which, as the steam-cloud curled over, became scarlet and orange and gold. In places where they opened as they ascended, the gold-rayed blue sky showed through, to give fresh effects of beauty, while high up, there at times were the upper parts of the masts standing out as if they belonged to some smaller ship sailing away through a thick sea-fog of an ocean far above the level where I stood.
I was gazing wonderingly at the beautiful effects produced by the bright sunshine upon the vapour, forgetting all about our danger for the moment in spite of the steady clank of the double pump, which came in regular pulsation above the hiss and roar of the steam, when my name was suddenly pronounced behind me, and turning sharply, I saw Miss Denning standing there, looking very pale, and with a scared expression in her eyes that was painful to see.
She had evidently just come to the companion-way and caught sight of me, and now held out her hands, with a smile coming into her troubled face.
“I am so glad,” she cried. “You will tell me the truth. My brother has sent me to see. Are we in great danger?”
“Oh no, I think not,” I cried, as I took her hands, and felt as if I had been neglecting a sister and a sick brother to gratify my desire to watch some coloured clouds.
“You are not deceiving me?” she cried. “Tell me, is not the danger very great? Come and tell John.”
She hurried me in through the saloon to where her brother was back in his own cabin, lying upon his mattress, looking terribly weak and ill. His face brightened though as he saw me, and he too held out his hands.
“Ah, Dale,” he said feebly, “I wanted to see you. It is so hard to lie here without being able to help, and I sent Lena to get news. Tell us the whole truth. Don’t keep anything back.”
I told him all I knew, meeting his great sunken eyes frankly enough, and he seemed relieved.
“Then there is hope?” he said at last.
“Certainly, I think so,” I replied. “They are mastering the fire, and it cannot burst out afresh, for the cargo not burned will be drenched with water.”
“But it may have worked its way through the ship’s side,” he said, with a shake of his head. Then, suddenly—“Look here, I want you, if I break down altogether, and my sister here is left alone, to take my place, and be as it were her brother. We have both liked you from the first day we met. Will you promise this?”
“I will when it becomes necessary,” I said quietly; “but you are going to be better.”
He shook his head, and Miss Denning gazed at me wildly.
“Oh, come,” I cried, “don’t look at the black side of things. It was enough to make you much worse, having to go through all that trouble; but we’ve got rid of the mutineers, gone through an explosion and a fire, and all sorts of other trouble. You’ll soon feel better when we are all straight again.”
“That’s what I tell him,” said Miss Denning eagerly, “but he only shakes his head at me.”
“And he doesn’t know so well as I do.”
“Had your breakfast, Dale, my lad?” cried Mr Brymer cheerily. “Good-morning, Miss Denning. Well, Mr Denning, we’re winning the battle.”
“Then you will save the ship?” cried Mr Denning.
“Oh yes, I think so now,” said Mr Brymer quietly. “Miss Denning, it is almost an insult to ask you, but if you could find time to help us a little!”
“Yes,” she said eagerly. “What can I do?”
“I would not ask you, but we are all forced to go on pumping to extinguish the fire, and to a man we are getting exhausted.”
“And you want food—breakfast?”
“That’s it, my dear young lady; and if you could collect a few scraps together for us—”
“It is all ready in the cabin next to the captain’s.”
“Hah! I might have known,” cried the mate, taking Miss Denning’s hand to raise it to his lips. “God bless you for all you have done for us, Miss Denning. If my little wife at home could only know everything, she would be down on her knees praying for your safety. Look here, Mr Denning, don’t you be down-hearted. I can read you like a book, better than the doctor. Half your complaint is worry about your sister here.”
“Well,” said Mr Denning with a faint smile, “suppose I grant that it is.”
“Why, then, you would be honest, that’s all. Now don’t you fidget about her, for there are on board this ship six men—I was going to say and a boy, but I can’t, for that boy counts as a man in the spirit to do all he can, so I shall say seven good men and true—who will do everything they can to protect as sweet a young English lady as ever stepped. There isn’t one of us, from grim-looking Neb Dumlow or brown Bob Hampton up to the doctor, who wouldn’t cheerfully give his life to save her from harm.”
“Yes, yes,” cried Mr Denning, with the weak tears in his eyes, “I know.”
“And I too,” said Miss Denning, in a choking voice, “though I do not know what I have done to deserve it.”
“You don’t?” cried Mr Brymer; “then I’ll tell you, my dear. There, I say it, and mean it. You have behaved like a true, sweet English lady should, ever since you have been on board. Do you think, rough sailors as we are, we haven’t seen your devotion to your brother? Do you think we haven’t all loved you for your genuine patient English pluck all through troubles that would have made scores of fine madams faint. Here, I’m getting into a knot, instead of getting something to eat, and going back to my work. Mr Denning, don’t you fidget, sir. We’ll pull you through. And you, Miss Denning, if you’ll go on seeing that the poor fellows have a morsel now and then, we’ll bless you a little more. Come along, Dale, we must get back.”
We hurried out, but I saw Miss Denning sink down on her knees sobbing by her brother’s side; and, as he put his left arm round her neck, he waved his right hand to me.
“It’s no use talking, Dale, my lad,” said Mr Brymer huskily, “we must save the ship—we will. Now, then, let’s get a handful of food a-piece and look in on the captain before we go back.”
I followed him into the right cabin, where a freshly-opened tin of beef, some biscuits, and a can of fresh water stood ready on a white cloth, and we both began to eat ravenously.
“There’s an angel for you, Dale,” mumbled the mate, with his mouth full. “Right kind of angel too, who can open meat-tins for hungry men, and who knows that even now it’s nicer off a white cloth. I don’t wonder at the doctor.”
“What about the doctor?” I said curiously, as I too ate as if I had not had anything for a month.
“Never you mind. Fill your fists and come along. Eat as we go.”
We each covered a biscuit with meat and laid another on the top, to form the hardest sandwiches ever made by man, and then hurried into the next cabin, where Captain Berriman was lying on a mattress.
“Ah, Brymer! At last!” he cried. “Well?”
“Yes, it’s well, skipper,” said Mr Brymer. “I think we shall save the ship.”
Captain Berriman’s lips moved, as his eyes closed for a few moments.
“Can you eat this?” said the mate, offering his sandwich.
“Oh no. Miss Denning has been attending to me, bless her!”
“Amen, and a double blessing,” said Mr Brymer. “There, keep a good heart, man, and pray for another day or two’s calm. We’ll do everything possible. Good-bye.”
“I know you will, Brymer. Go on, then. You will all do your best.”
He smiled at me then, and I followed the mate, who was hurrying along to the end of the saloon.
“Let’s look at Walters first.”
“No. You go; I can’t, my lad. If I do I shall feel as if I must throw him overboard. He might have saved us from all this. Go and see him, and don’t let him starve; though I suppose Mr Frewen’s feeding him now on physic.”
He hurried away, as I felt that in all probability Miss Denning had been there to see to the wretched lad; and so it proved, for on the locker close to his head was a glass of fresh water, and the white handkerchief bound round his head, still moist with eau-de-cologne, was evidently one of hers.
His eyes were closed as I entered, but after a minute he opened them and looked at me fixedly.
I could not help shuddering, and thinking how horribly bad he looked, but the repelling feeling gave way to pity directly, as I thought of how sharply he was being punished for all he had done—wounded, suffering severely in body, and far worse, I was sure, in mind.
I hesitated for a few moments, hardly knowing how to approach him, for mentally I felt farther from him than ever. We had never been friends, for I knew that he had never liked me, while now, as I gazed at him, and thought of all the sufferings he had caused, I felt that we ought to be enemies indeed. And so I behaved to him like the worst enemy I ever had, and as he gazed at me fixedly I went and laid my hand upon his forehead.
“You’re precious hot and feverish,” I said. “You had better have the door open too.”
I propped the cabin-door wide, so that the air might pass through, and then added, gruffly enough—
“Shipbuilders are awful fools to make such little round windows,” but, as I said it, I felt all the time that the little iron-framed circular window that could be screwed up, air and water-tight, had been the saving of many a ship in rough seas.
“Hadn’t you better drink some water?” I said next, as I saw him pass his dry tongue over his parched lips.
“Please,” he said feebly; and, as I took the glass of water, passed my arm under his head to hold him up and let him drink, I said to myself—
“You cowardly, treacherous brute!—the bullet ought to have killed you, or we should have let you drown.”
“Hah!” he sighed, as, after sipping a little of the water and swallowing it painfully, he began taking long deep draughts with avidity, just as if the first drops had moistened his throat and made a way for the rest.
“Have another glass?” I said abruptly.
He bowed his head, and I let him down gently; though, as I thought of Miss Denning, her brother, and the burning ship, I felt that I ought to let him down with as hard a bump as I could.
I filled the glass again, and once more lifted him and let him drink, scowling at him all the time.
“There,” I thought, as I laid him back again, “that’s enough. You’ll soon die, and I don’t want to have the credit of killing you with kindness.”
He looked at me piteously, and his lips moved, but I could not grasp what he said.
“Wound hurt?” I asked.
He bowed his head.
“Sure to,” I said. “It’ll be ever so much worse yet.”
He bowed his head again.
“Look here,” I said gruffly, “why don’t you speak, and not wag your head like a mandarin in a tea-shop?”
He looked at me reproachfully, and his lips moved again.
“Is the ship still burning?” he said faintly, and evidently with a great effort.
“Yes, I s’pose so,” I replied. “It wasn’t out when I came away. Arn’t you glad?”
“Glad?” he said with a groan.
“Oh, well, it was all your doing. Feel proud, don’t you?”
His eyes gazed fully in mine, and their lock said plainly, “I’m weak, helpless, and in misery. I’m full of repentance too, now. Don’t, don’t, pray, cast my sins in my face.”
But somehow my tongue seemed to be out of my control. I wanted to take pity on him, and to do all I could to make his position more bearable, but all the time I kept on attacking him with the sharpest and most bitter reproaches.
“You ought to be proud,” I said. “You can lie there and think that through your blackguards the ship has been blown up, and is now burning, and would burn to the water’s edge if we couldn’t stop it. The captain looks as if he were dying; you are nearly killed; you’ve nearly killed poor Mr Denning, who came this voyage for the benefit of his health; you have had Miss Denning insulted and exposed to no end of dangers; poor old Neb Dumlow has a shot in him; and we’ve been treated more like dogs than anything else; while now your beautiful friends have turned upon you, and left you to be burned in the ship they have set on fire, for aught they care. Yes; you ought to be proud of your work.”
He groaned, and I felt as if I should like to bite my tongue off, as I wondered how I could have said such bitter things.
“I say, don’t faint,” I cried, and leaned over him, and sprinkled his face with water, for his eyelids had drooped, and a terribly ghastly look came over his face. But even as I tried to bring him to, I felt as if I were only doing so to make him hear my reproaches once more.
He opened his eyes after a few moments, and looked up at me.
“Here,” I said roughly; “I’d better fetch the doctor to you.”
“What for?” he cried. “He will only try and save my life, when it would be better for me to die out of the way. I want to die. How can I face people at home again? No, no, don’t fetch him. It’s all over. There is no hope for me now.”
“Can I help you, Walters?” said Miss Denning, suddenly appearing at the door-way; and as I looked at her bright gentle face, with my wretched messmate’s words still ringing in my ears, I could not help thinking that there must be hope even for such a cowardly traitor as he had proved, when she was here ready to help him and forgive all the past.
“Yes, Miss Denning, I think you can,” I said very clumsily, I know. “Walters knows what a brute he has been, and of course he is horribly sorry, and bad now, and keeps on speaking about there being no hope for him, and wanting to die. I can’t talk to him, because I don’t seem to be able to do anything but pitch into him—I mean with words—but you can.”
“Poor fellow!” she said gently; and she laid her hand upon his hot brow; “he is very feverish, and in great pain.”
“Yes, of course he is,” I cried hurriedly; “but that’s the way. I couldn’t have said that. It would do any fellow good. And I say, Miss Denning, you tell him that I didn’t mean all I said,” I continued. “He’s done wrong, and he’s sorry for it, and I’m sure I’ll forgive him if you will.”
She smiled at us both so gently that the stupid weak tears came in my eyes.
“That means you will,” I cried hurriedly. “Then I say, you speak to him, and make him feel that talking about dying’s no good. He can’t show how sorry he is if he does, can he?”
“Of course not.”
“Then tell him he’s to get well as soon as he can, and play the man now and help us to save the ship, and you, and all of us; and I say, I really must go and help now, and—oh, Miss Denning, don’t sit down there; that’s my sandwich.”
I caught up the partly eaten biscuit and meat, and hurried out of the cabin to make my way forward.
“What a donkey I have made of myself!” I cried, mentally. “I thought I had said stupid enough things to poor old Walters, and now I’ve spoken such nonsense to her that she’ll always look upon me as a regular booby. Yes, that she will.”
Chapter Forty Four.
I was so upset and worried about the way in which I had acted in the cabin, that for a time I forgot all about my sandwich; but, as I neared the steam, and heard the hissing and shrieking going on, I began nibbling the biscuit, and went on along the side of the broken deck close to the starboard gangway, and as soon as I was in the thick mist, I forgot all about the scene in the cabin, the clanking of the pump so steadily going on helping to drive it out of my head.
“Well, Bob,” I said, “you haven’t put it all out yet, then. Why, I could have finished long ago, if I’d stopped.”
“No doubt, clever-shakes,” said Mr Brymer. “Here, lay hold of the nozzle and do it then.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” I cried. “I thought it was Bob Hampton.”
“I know you did,” he said, as I took a step or two forward to where I could dimly see the mate manipulating the copper tube, and directing the water here and there. “Catch hold: I’ll go and pump, and send some one to have some food.”
I took the nozzle and went on with the task, Mr Brymer hurrying forward to the pump, while I was astonished to find how little impression had been made upon the fire. Tons of water must have been poured into the hold, but wherever I directed the stream, there was the sputtering, hissing, and shrieking, and I began to ask myself whether it would be possible to master the great body of fire after all.
A strange, nervous feeling came over me now, and I began to suppose—and, oh, what nonsense one can suppose when that tap is turned on, and allowed to run!—I imagined danger after danger. I saw the fire gradually eating its way to chests of horrible explosives—chemicals of whose existence we were not aware—and as, with feverish haste, I directed the heavy streams of water down into that thick mist of vapour, I kept on fancying that the sharp reports of steam were the precursors of another terrible explosion, of which, from my position, I should be the first victim. And as I thought these horrors, I poured the water here, there, everywhere, so as to make sure that I did not miss the dangerous place, though, even as I directed the jet, I felt as nervous as ever. For I told myself that the explosive might be so tightly packed to make it waterproof that all I sent down was only for it to run off again, and that I might spare my pains.
Just as I was in one of my most nervous fits, there was a momentary cessation of the pumping, and instead of hissing and spurting violently from the nozzle, the water ceased for a moment or two and then shot out in a couple of feeble spurts.
“It’s all over,” I thought; “the pump has broken down.”
But the thought had hardly crossed my mind when the jet came as strong as ever, and I knew that they must have been changing hands, proof of this being the correct idea coming directly after out of the dense mist. For a well-known voice exclaimed—
“Hold on tight, Mr Dale, sir; we’re coming by this side, so as to speak you.”
“Who’s with you, Bob?” I cried.
“T’other two, sir; Barney and Neb. There’s Mr Trout-and-Salmon Preddle at one handle, and the doctor at t’other, with Mr Brymer to relieve while we’re off dooty to go and ’vestigate the wittling department. That’s so, eh, lads?”
“Ay, ay,” growled Dumlow.
“That’s so,” said Barney; “and then I’m to take my turn at the squirting, if so be as you can’t put it out.”
“No fear of that, Barney,” I cried. “It seems as if it won’t be put out.”
“Oh, it’ll have to, sir, ’fore we’ve done with it.”
“How is your wound, Dumlow?” I said, loudly. “Hurt you much?”
“Don’t shout, Mr Dale, sir. I’m a-goin’ out to braxfass with a lady, and I don’t want her to hear as I’ve had a hole punched in me, or she’ll be thinking about it all the time.”
“But does it hurt you much?” I asked.
“Tidy, sir. Sometimes it’s better; sometimes it’s worse. ’Tarn’t a nat’ral way o’ taking blue pill, and consekently it don’t agree with you. But don’t you worry about that, nor me neither: I arn’t killed yet.”
As Dumlow spoke, the others got carefully by me, and passed on out of sight. Then it came to his turn.
“Stand fast, sir,” he said. “I don’t want to shove you down into that hole. Looks just like my old mother’s washus used to on heavy days. She was a laundress out at Starch Green, she was, and—hff!”
“What’s the matter?” I said, for the man uttered a peculiar sound.
“Just a bit of a nip from that there bullet, that’s all, sir. That’s better now I’m by. ’Tis a bit steamy, though, eh?”
“Horrible,” I said; “but I say, do let Mr Frewen see to your wound. It isn’t right to leave it.”
“Course it ain’t; but I put it to you, as a young gent who’s got a head of his own, and got it screwed on right, as you’ve showed us more’n once; can I go and get a bite and sup, and can the doctor see to my leg and go on pumping, and all at the same time?”
“Of course not, but as soon as you’ve had some breakfast, do have it done.”
“All right, sir, all right; and thankye heartily for what you say. Why, dear lad, you make as much fuss over me, and my damaged post, as if it was your uncle, or your father, or somebody else. It’s very good of you, Mr Dale, sir.”
“Are you stopping to hargy anything, Neb, old man?” cried Barney, who had returned.
“No, mate, I arn’t.”
“Well, then, come on. Yer can’t ’spect the young lady to stand all day a-holding the coffee-pot up in the air, while you’re a-talking out all the breath in your chest. Do send him on, sir.”
“All right; coming,” growled Dumlow, and he went on, leaving me to fight with the fire, listening to the hissing and sputtering of the steam, fire, and water, and to the steady clang-clank of the pump.
It was strange how shut in I seemed, and how lonely, in the midst of that white vapour; but it did not seem very long before the men returned to pass by on the other side, and after I had waited for the slight cessation of the water which followed, telling me that there was a fresh change being made at the pumps, I soon heard voices, and Mr Frewen came up to me to pass to the cabin.
“Going to have some breakfast?” I shouted. “Isn’t it Mr Preddle’s turn too?”
“Yes,” he squeaked, from over the other side; “I’m going too, but it’s very hard work passing along here. Dale, my dear boy.”
“Yes, Mr Preddle.”
“I’ve had a look in at my place forward, and quite half the fish are dead.”
“I’m very sorry,” I shouted; and then in a lower voice to Mr Frewen—“Do have a look at poor Walters, sir,” I said; “he’s very bad.”
“Yes, he’s very bad, Dale, mentally as well as bodily, I hope.”
“Oh yes, sir; he’s horribly sorry now.”
“Sorry?—Hah!”
I felt that I was not evoking much sympathy for my messmate, and I changed my attack.
“Dumlow’s in a lot of pain too, sir,” I said. “I should be so glad if you’d see to him.”
“Poor fellow! Yes, I know his wound’s worse than he’ll own to. He shall have it dressed as soon as I get back. I wanted to do it before, but he was as obstinate as a mule.”
“Coming, Mr Frewen?” came from aft; and the doctor went on, leaving me once more alone, to go on searching out hot places with that jet of water till he returned and stood by me.
“Why, Dale,” he said, “you are winning.”
“Oh no, sir; it’s as bad as ever,” I cried.
“Nonsense, my lad; not half. The mist is not so dense overhead, and the hissing and shrieking of the steam is nothing like so loud. We can talk to one another without shouting.”
“I say,” squeaked Mr Preddle from the other side, “it isn’t so thick, is it?”
“No,” cried the doctor; and just then Mr Brymer came near, and, to my surprise, I could see him dimly on the other side of the gap in the deck.
“Three cheers!” he shouted; “the day’s our own. In an hour or two we shall be able to cry hold hard!”
Those three cheers were given—cheers as full of thankfulness as they were of joy at our prospect of final success. Mr Brymer came round to me, and laid his hand upon my shoulder.
“Let Blane take the branch now,” he said. “Why, Dale, my lad, you couldn’t have stood to your water-gun better if you had been a man.”
And I felt a burning flash of pride in my cheeks, and that it was time to leave off, for my arms ached so that I could hardly direct the branch.