CHAPTER IV.

Life on board the _Young Austral_—The wreck—A swim for life—Safe ashore.

Thus it was that both brothers joined the full-rigged ship _Young Austral_, bound for Moreton Bay direct, joining a band of sturdy Britons who were going to seek their fortunes in the new colony. Though Tim started against his will, he very soon _did_ “make the best of it,” seeing that there was no present hope of returning. Mat, too, helped to cheer him, telling him that the voyage would do him good, and buying him clothes and a few necessaries from those emigrants who had any to part with.

A day later on, Mat was summoned to speak to the captain, who, until then, had not had time to read the letter from Burns, which Mat had sent into his cabin upon first coming on board.

Said the skipper, as Mat made his appearance, followed by Tim,—

“I understand your story, this letter from my friend explains all; that’s your brother alongside you, I’ll be bound. Mr. Burns has arranged it all, so that you will get better accommodation than the ‘free’ passengers, and your stowaway brother can mess with you; I’ve been hearing about him from my mate, and I’m not sorry that he’s on board. If we speak a homeward-bound ship, we _may_ have a chance of sending a letter home before long—that’s all”—and the skipper waved the two lads out of the cabin.

Comforted by these words, soon perceiving that this gruff, hard-featured captain was a good-hearted man, Mat and Tim congratulated themselves now with having had the luck to ship under him.

It is not our business, nor indeed our wish, to go into the many details of a long sea voyage, tedious alike to either passengers or readers: voyages which have been described in many hundred volumes, in many thousands of private letters. The emigrant-ship has no battles to recount, no running down of slavers, in fact no life of the tar pure and simple, further made interesting by his adventures and exploits ashore. The emigrant-ship, though just as useful in her line, runs the same humdrum voyage year after year, unrelieved by any adventure, save the inevitable meeting with shark or whale, the capture of albatross or Cape pigeons, varied with such innocent amusements as a little dancing, and a very fair amount of interesting scandal. In fact a little world, of no interest scarcely to any one excepting those on board.

But as far as Mat was concerned, the voyage promised to be full of interest. He had long wished to better himself in reading, in general knowledge, and, as he himself said, in speaking better English, and here, in three months’ idleness, as the landsmen chiefly regarded it, was the opportunity he had sought for.

The first few days after leaving the Channel were devoted by officers and crew to getting the vessel ship-shape, by the emigrants in arranging their “kits,” and generally “shaking down,” not, however, that they were shaken down or _up_ by the action of the _sea_, for light breezes and calms prevailed for the first week after losing sight of the coast of Devon, and it was not until the twelfth day out that the island of Madeira was sighted.

At the period of our story, many ships went to sea underhanded; the _Young Austral_ was one of these, and the captain, who had been casting his eyes over any likely lads, one day called all hands aft to say, that if any men liked to form themselves into a volunteer crew, it would not only give them plenty to do during the voyage, but, besides, they would have the opportunity of gaining general knowledge. For that he would be glad to hold a class during his spare hours, for instruction in matters connected with working and steering a ship, that a _willing_ volunteer crew would be of great help in the manual working of the ship, and that though he could not _compel_ any one to attend to his duties, which would be often hard, and sometimes monotonous, yet he expected that any one that joined would stick to his word and obey those over him.

At the conclusion of this speech, most of his audience retreated, saying they had had work enough ashore, where they were paid: but some sixteen, differently disposed, stepped forward, amongst them Mat and Tim, and offered their services. These men were divided into port and starboard watches, and by the wish of the majority, Mat was made lieutenant of port watch, with Tim as “Bo’sun.”

It was in the “Doldrums” that the _Young Austral_ signalled a homeward-bound ship, which, in answer to a request from the former, said she would take letters home, so a boat was lowered, bearing a small mail, and containing amongst other letters one from Mat to the Squire, begging him to make the acquaintance of Burns, by taking a letter, which he enclosed, to him. Tim wrote to his father, explaining all the circumstances of his absence, winding up by saying that he was very happy, with plenty to do, and that he did not try to get a passage in this homeward-bound ship, the _Asia_, because the captain said that “the old tub was one hundred days out from Akyab, and that _we_ would never get home at this rate.”

As time passed, our voyagers found that they were making good progress; the rough sports connected with crossing the line were forgotten—the brothers vied with their messmates in zealously taking their share of the working of the ship, keeping watches, washing decks, and to such efficiency had they attained in going aloft, that by the time that their good ship was in the “roaring forties,” they sometimes drew forth praise from even the old “salts,” who, at the commencement of their apprenticeship, had watched their proceedings somewhat contemptuously.

More than one of the volunteers by this time had “jacked out,” as Mat said, and others appeared likely to follow their example, some from sheer inability to go aloft.

“Probably never been up anything bigger than an apple-tree,” said Tim.

The captain complimented the remainder on “sticking to their guns,” and both he and the doctor gave them regular instructions. With the latter, our twins worked hard, both in writing and also reading out loud, whilst their time was also taken up with the captain, in some of his leisure hours, in studying geography, also working the ship both by sun and stars, and afterwards learning how to prick off her track on the chart.

Nor was this the only tuition which they strove for. During a succession of calms, they asked permission to borrow the dinghy, which was readily granted them, and our lads, accompanied by a young cabin passenger who knew the rudiments of swimming, took long lessons in the art, not forgetting to practise treading water for long periods at a time; this latter accomplishment was, their instructor told them, under certain circumstances more useful to learn perfectly than the simple one of swimming. _He_ himself usually stayed in the boat, whilst the brothers were paddling, as sharks were about, so it was said, though none were seen on these occasions.

Before the calm weather ceased, the brothers found that they could keep up with the ship, when she was just moving, for long periods at a time.

No bad weather of any consequence was met with, until off the “Crozets,” when a stiff gale came on, accompanied by a violent thunderstorm. These storms and gales continued for several days, obliging the captain to take the ship south of Tasmania instead of going through Bass’s Straits.

Whilst rounding the Tasmanian coast, they exchanged signals, “All’s well,” with a homeward-bound ship.

It was on the eighty-fourth day out, and when nearing their port, that an ominous-looking bank of black clouds showed itself astern. This was early in the morning; by noon they were enveloped in partial darkness, with wind and sea increasing in fury; at night both elements had risen to a terrific pitch.

Tim told his brother that he had seen the captain consult his glass many times, and on the last occasion shake his head, “and he looked awful solemn, Mat,” he added.

“It does seem hard, too,” said Mat, “just when we expected to land.”

The storm raged for three days and as many nights; the days seemed as the nights in their utter darkness; no reckoning could be taken; any sail they attempted to get on the ship was at once blown clean out of the bolt-holes. Captain and officers consulted together frequently, poring over the chart.

As it proved later, they were well aware that they must already be nearing a portion of the “Great Barrier Reef,” and that unless the wind changed, they would be carried surely and rapidly to destruction.

All deck gear had long since been either washed overboard or smashed, and two of the boats carried clean off the davits. The emigrants were battened down; whilst on deck remained captain, crew, and volunteers gazing into the gloom ahead with calm but anxious faces.

The brothers, with some half-dozen other passengers, were holding on to the shrouds for bare life—silent, because talking was out of the question in the fearful din of the elements.

Seeing the crew at the pumps, they joined them, all labouring till well-nigh exhausted, when suddenly Tim cried,—

“Look at the line of white waters.”

The next instant there was a crash and a shock, followed by several heavy bumps, which threw all hands to the deck.

“Where are we,” shouted Tim, as soon as he could muster breath.

“On the reef,” roared the captain, who was standing close by, “but work and trust in God, my lads—clear away the masts.”

This was a work of great peril, owing to the huge seas which, breaking one after another on the reef, rose over the doomed vessel.

All the boats had now been swept away but one; crew and volunteers were clinging to anything and everything they could lay their hands on.

No tool was forthcoming—none could be found; when the captain had ordered the masts to be cut away, men shrunk from crossing that terrible storm-swept deck, even our hero who had faced the bloodhound, felt his spirit quail, but only for an instant. Turning to get a view of the captain, he saw that which decided him. The skipper was standing with one arm round the mizen-shrouds, his hair and beard apparently almost swept from his head by hurricane and brine; but the expression on his face!

Mat had once seen a copy of one of the grandest faces that he had conceived possible—it was that of an ancient martyr.

There he saw the same look, at the same moment of death in life, on his beloved captain’s features. As Mat turned round, their eyes met, the skipper gave him one sad nod, which contained a world of meaning; Mat, without thinking of either storm or wave, made a rush, burst open the cabin-door, and returned safely with his forest axe to his post of temporary shelter, the next moment an enormous billow swept the deck he had lately trod.

Watching his opportunity, with a few sharply delivered strokes, our forester sent the mizen-mast overboard, this was shortly followed by the main-mast, for two of the crew having witnessed Mat’s daring act, had seized his axe, prevented his following them, and felled the main-mast before another wave covered the spot where they stood; the fore-mast then went by the board, and as if the gallant ship had made an effort to shake herself free, by thus heaving over this last obstacle to her righting—she had been on her beam ends—relieved now of her top weight, she rose again, but alas! only to be lifted in one wild plunge farther on to the reef.

This last shock was too much for her solid timbers, and she broke her back.

“Let the emigrants up,” hoarsely shouted the captain; and then commenced a scene which, if it were possible, added fresh horrors to the situation. In hundreds they came on deck, some of the men yelling and cursing, others the picture of fright and despair; but all struggling and fighting to get to the one boat left. The poor women screaming, praying, and beseeching, the whole forming a maddened crowd of human beings, most of whom were washed about the deck, till stunned and bleeding, they were swept overboard. Some dozens of both men and women had seized the boat, and managed in the frenzy of despair, and despite the efforts of captain and crew to prevent them, to get it overboard; but the few that succeeded in jumping in were at once engulfed with the craft in the whirlpool of mighty waters: a last despairing shriek being heard even above the horrible din as they disappeared, a huge sea overwhelming them, as it careered onwards with its white crest towards the land, a glimpse of which could now be seen for an instant looming through the lurid sky.

Another moment, and the poor old ship parted asunder, the brothers finding themselves clinging to the poop, together with the captain and two others.

“Every man for himself, and God for us all,” cried the skipper; “but _I_ stick to this last bit of my old ship; if any one thinks he can swim ashore, he can try; but I hardly advise it.”

“We’ll stand by you,” said the brothers in a breath, as they grasped each other’s hands.

That portion of the hull on which stood the last few survivors, was evidently being impelled by a current, and at this moment was drifting past a headland, which appeared to be some quarter of a mile away.

All eyes had been anxiously watching this, when the captain again spoke.

“My lads, there’s a slight lull in the storm, and there is just a bare chance of a good swimmer reaching that shore; two minutes more, and it will be too late.” Then turning to the brothers, “Go, lads, and make a brave fight; he who remains has no hope.”

Drifting along as they were, on the ship’s poop, their chance of ever being able to swim ashore seemed small indeed, and the prospect of casting themselves into such a stormy, raging sea, was enough to awe the spirits of even such stout-hearted lads as our forest twins; but it was their only hope of escape, and slender as it seemed, they did not hesitate, at the captain’s suggestion, to make that last effort for dear life.

The brothers looked at one another, and saw in each other’s eyes that a brave hope remained. They then turned to the captain to bid him farewell; but they only saw his broad back shaken with emotion, his face buried in his hands.

Hurriedly divesting themselves of their clothes, they slid down into the billows by means of some of the ropes which were dangling over the bulwarks. As Mat came down last, he was aware of Jumper springing into the sea after him.

Everything now depended on strong arms and a cool head. As each roller came they found that they had to give up striking out, and let themselves be carried on in its dark and roaring body, then up they would come again, and strike out until overwhelmed once more. With the strength of despair, our lads continued to forge ahead for that land, which appeared to _their_ eyes as passing _them_. After this struggle had continued a cruelly long time, they were aware that the billows did not break so heavily, and that therefore they could the more easily keep on the surface of their crests.

The land was now to the right of them, when Mat, who was slightly ahead, heard Tim shout, “Go on; never mind me.” This sounded so like a despairing cry that Mat turned himself slightly round, and shouted back, “Tread water!” And here came in that part of the science of swimming which is so often neglected; but the brothers had learnt their lesson well, as we shall see.

Keeping their mouths tightly shut to avoid the spoon-drift as much as possible, treading water enabled them to rest their arms and legs alternately for a minute or so, then on they swam again; but they were both, more especially Tim, getting very exhausted, and were on the point of giving up in despair their struggle against the waves, when the sight of a piece of wreckage being drifted landwards, showing them that they had got into a current setting that way, revived their drooping energies, and gave them spirit to make a final effort.

An undercurrent now caught Mat, and carried him rapidly round the point; he raised a feeble shout of joy as his feet touched bottom. Tim ranged up alongside him, and being now under the lee of the point in shallow water, both lads were enabled to wade hand in hand over the sharp coral bottom to the shore.

Utterly spent with their tremendous exertions, they threw themselves down upon the sandy beach, thanking God for their merciful preservation.