Chapter 5

"Ye're off agin, me son. It ain't that at all. That man don't care a whoop for all the owners livin'. Not he. Sink me, Rolling, I got a big head, but nothin' much in it; in spite o' this, though, I knows a thing or two when I sees it. That man has some other object in bein' nervous about this here hooker besides owners. Don't ask me what it is, 'cause I don't know. But I knows what it ain't."

"The whole outfit is queer," I answered, "and the sooner I get out of her, the better satisfied I'll be. No decent sailor would ship in the craft if he could help it."

Trunnell gave me a queer look. Then he saw I meant no offence and shook his great head again.

"Did it ever occur to ye that ye had a duty to do in the world beside huntin' soft jobs?"

"Certainly not that of hunting hard ones," I answered, fastening my belt.

Trunnell's face underwent a change. He was serious and waited until I had strapped my sou'wester under my chin before saying anything.

"Mebbe I'm wrong, an' mebbe I ain't," he said. "But I believes a man has duties to stick to while he's on watch above water. One of these is not to turn tail and scud away, a-showin' your stern to every hard thing as comes along. No, sir, when ye runs into a hard gang like some o' these here aboard this hooker, stick to her, says me. If every man who's honest should turn his stern to a wessel that's got a bad name, what would happen to her? Why, any suckin' swab of a cabin boy kin tell that she'd get worse an' worse with the bad ones what would take your place. Ain't that reason? There's got to be some men to man a ship, an' if no honest ones will, then the owners can't do less than hire raskils. Ye can't sink a ship just because things have happened aboard her. Oh, Lord, no. Think a bit, Rolling, an' tell me if ye ain't blamed glad ye ware here, an' bein' here, ye must 'a' saved some poor devil of a sailor from getting killed this voyage?"

"I'm blamed sorry I ever--"

"Well, now, suppose'n I had a been ashore the day ye had the fracas on the main deck. Where'd ye been now, hey? A hunderd fathom deep, sure as Andrews is aboard this here ship, if I knows anything o' his ways, an' I've sailed two voyages with him afore. No, man; brace up and do yer dooty as ye may. If every good man was to stay out of bad ships, they'd get so the devil himself would be afeard to go to sea in them."

I smiled at the little fellow. Here was a man, who had the reputation of being but little better than an unhung pirate, preaching a most unselfish doctrine. We had been below for several minutes, and I could hear the captain's voice bawling out some order on the deck overhead. The bells were struck by the automatic clock in the cabin, and I turned to go.

"You're a good Christian, anyhow, Trunnell," I said as I started.

Trunnell gave a snort and threw his quid in a corner near a cuspidor. "I ain't never seen the inside of a church. I only tries to do the square thing to whoever is a-runnin' of the sea outfit--same as ye'll do if ye'll take the trouble to think a minit--"

I was out on the deck, and the wind almost blew me into the scuppers. The captain was standing right above me on the poop watching the growing light in the east. The waist was full of foamy water that roared and surged and washed everything movable about. Above, the masts and spars looked dark in the dim, gray light of the early morning, the strips of canvas stretching away from the jackstays and flicking dismally to leeward. All the yards, however, were trimmed nicely, showing Trunnell's master hand, and on the mainmast, bellying and straining with the pressure, was a new storm spencer, set snug and true, holding the plunging vessel up to the great rolling sea that came like a living hill from the southwest. Forward, a bit of a staysail was set as taut as a drumhead, looking no bigger than a good-sized handkerchief. Aft, a trysail, set on the spanker boom, helped the tarpaulin in the mizzen to bring her head to the sea.

I climbed up the poop ladder and took a look around.

It was a dismal sight. As far as the eye could reach through the white haze of the flying drift the ocean presented a dirty steel-gray color, torn into long, ragged streaks of white where the combers rolled on the high seas before the gale. Overhead all was a deep blank of gray vapor. The wind was not blowing nearly as hard as it had during my last watch on deck, but the sea was rolling heavier. It took the _Pirate_ fair on the port bow, and every now and again it rose so high above her topgallant rail that it showed green light through the mass that would crash over to the deck and go roaring white to leeward, making the main deck uninhabitable. Sometimes a heavy, quick comber would strike her on the bluff of the bow, and the shock would almost knock the men off their feet. Then the burst of water would shoot high in the air, going sometimes clear to the topgallant yard, nearly a hundred feet above the deck, while all forward would disappear in the flying spray and spume.

"Fine weather, Rolling, hey?" bawled the skipper to me as I gained the poop.

"Oh, it isn't so bad the way she's taking it now. If she hangs on as well as this during the watch, she'll make good weather of it all right," I said.

"I'm glad you think so, my son. Just call down to the steward to bring me a bracer. Whew, just look at that!"

As he spoke a huge sea rose on the weather bow and bore down on the staggering ship. It struck her fair and rolled over her so heavily that I had to grab a line to keep from being knocked down. The main deck was full of water, and as it roared off through the ports and over the lee rail, I looked to see if anything had gone with it. Then I realized how well we had been washed during the night.

From the forecastle aft to the poop there was nothing left except the hatches and deck-house. The boats were all stove to matchwood except one that was lashed on the forward house. The bulwarks were smashed for many feet along both sides, but this was no real damage, as it allowed the sea to run off easier, relieving the deck of the heavy load. The whole main deck, fore and aft, was as clean stripped as could be, and the hatches alone were saving us from filling and going under.

It was a dismal sight, and the men who stood huddled on the forecastle and poop looked, in their yellow oilskins, like so many yellow ghosts. I went aft to the wheel and found that Hans and Johnson were steering without much difficulty, although they had all they could do to hold her when a sea struck aft. Far astern the light seemed to be growing brighter, and while I looked there appeared some long streaks in the heavy banks of vapor which showed a break or two. I took the glass which hung on the side of the grating and cleaned the lens with my hand. Sweeping the storm-torn horizon to the southward, nothing showed but rolling seas and haze. I turned the glass to the northward, and in a moment I saw a black speck rise and then disappear from the line of vision.

"Vessel to lor'ard, sir," I bawled to the captain.

"I don't care for forty vessels, Rolling. Get me that steward with the liquor, or there'll be one afloat here without a second mate."

VII

It was with no good feeling that I went below to get the old man a drink. The steward met me and grinned as he brought forth the liquor.

"Yessah, it's nine ob dem he takes endurin' de watch. Lord, man, he's got something pow'rful on his mind. Did yo' ebber feel the heft ob his trunk he brought aboard, sah? No, sah, dat yo' didn't. Well, it's pow'rful heavy fo' a man's baggage."

"What's in it?" I asked.

"'Deed, I doan know, man, jest what is in it, but I reckon it's something what worries him. Dat an' Cap'n Andrews forrads worries him some. Chips, he say as dey goes aft an' have matters straightened out a bit. Dey is fo' either weldin' irons on de cap'n forrads or puttin' him on de beach. Jim, Hans, Bendin, an' Frenchy an' a lot more are fo' doing' somethin' with him. Yessah, dey is dat. Hab a leetle nip 'fore yo' goes?"

I took one and went back to the quarter-deck. The speck to leeward showed a bit of storm canvas flying, and we soon could make out she was a large ship hove to like ourselves on the port tack. Her hull showed now and again on the seas, and after drifting down toward her for about an hour, the light grew strong enough to make her out plainly. She was a large ship, English built, with a turtle-backed stern, painted white on the tumble-home of the quarter. Her hull was black, and the foam showed in long white lines of streamers as it was blown across her topsides. She was making heavy weather of it, and every now and again she would ram her nose clear out of sight in the high-rolling sea. Then she would rise heavily, with the white water pouring from her dripping forefoot and wallow dismally, until her weather rail would appear to roll under.

The stump of a foremast showed forward and a stout maintopsail strained away amidships, while aft, where the mizzen should have been, there was nothing showing above her deck. Her main topgallant mast was also gone at the cross-trees, but the maintopsail held strongly. Altogether she was pretty well wrecked aloft.

While we watched her we drew nearer, and when she came within a couple of miles I could make out a flag, the English ensign, union down, in the main rigging. This showed pretty plainly that she was doing badly and wanted help, but it was absolutely useless to think of doing anything for her while the wind held and the sea showed no signs of going down.

Being much lighter than she was, we drifted off more, and we came nearer and nearer as the morning brightened into a dirty day. In a short time we had her close under our lee, not half a mile distant. Indeed, it looked as though we might get closer than we wished to. The wind slacked gradually, however, and before long we managed to get out our main-topmast staysail. Then followed a close-reefed foresail balanced aft by the mizzen lower topsail, which we had saved. This, with the spencer and canvas already set, gave us a good hold of the ship in spite of the sea, and we were ready to wear if necessary. The _Pirate_ drifted much faster under the extra canvas and went to leeward so far that we saw that she would go clear of the stranger. As we drew near, we now saw how deep she sat in the water, the seas rolling over her, amidships, with every plunge. Still she headed up well and was under control.

While we gazed, a string of flags fluttered from her yard-arm. I dived below for the code and soon read the signal for help. They were sinking.

Trunnell turned out on deck, and we waited to see if Captain Thompson would give the word to do anything. He stood near the rail and gazed through his glass without saying anything or exhibiting any concern whatever for the people we could now see upon the stranger's high poop.

Then he turned to the mate and asked:--

"What does he want, Trunnell?"

"Want's us to stand by him, I reckon," the mate replied.

"Can we do it without danger in this seaway, hey?" demanded Thompson. "Answer me that. How the devil can we do anything for a fellow in this seaway, when we might be rammed by him and sink ourselves?"

"We'll stand by that ship as long as she's above water," answered Trunnell, quietly.

Then came a sudden change upon the captain. He turned upon the mate quickly, and his bright, glinting eyes seemed to grow to sharp points on either side of his hooked nose, which worked and twitched under the excitement. His hand went behind his back and he jerked forth a long revolver.

"Who's captain of this here boat, Mr. Trunnell, me or you?" said he, in his drawling voice.

"You," answered Trunnell, decisively.

"Do you presume to give any orders here what don't agree with mine?"

"No, sir," said Trunnell.

"Well, just let me hint to you, you bushy-headed little brute, that I don't want any suggestions from my mates, see? You little snipe, you! what d'ye mean, anyhow, by saying what we'll do?"

Several men standing on the poop to keep clear of the seas in the waist, hitched their trousers a little, and felt for the sheath knives in their belts. I noticed Jim, the young landsman, pass his hand behind him and stand waiting. There was an ominous silence and watchfulness among the crew which was not lost on the captain. He had inspired no respect in their minds as a sailor, even though he had shown himself fearless. It was evident that they were with Trunnell.

"I meant that we would stand by that ship as long as she floated," said the little mate, looking straight into the pistol barrel, "and I expected that it would be by your orders, sir."

Thompson was not a fool. He saw in an instant how the case was, and his glinting eyes took in the whole outfit of men and mates at one glance. He may not have wished to help the strangers, but he saw that not to do so meant more trouble to himself than if he did.

"This time you expected just right, Trunnell. I mean to stand by those people, and I order you to get ropes ready to hoist out the boat we have on the house, there. What I don't want and won't have is orders suggested by any one aboard here but me. I'm glad you didn't mean to do that, for I'd hate to kill you. You can get the boat ready."

Then he put the revolver back into his pocket, and Trunnell went forward along the shelter of the weather bulwarks and made ready the tackles for hoisting the boat out.

By the aid of the powerful glass I made out a figure of a woman standing upon the ship's poop. She appeared to be watching us intently. Soon a little sailorly and seaman-like fellow named Ford, whose interest in the strange ship was marked, came from the group near the mizzen and asked if he should get the signal halyards ready. Thompson made no objection, and we bent on the flags which told by the code that we would stand by them until the sea went down enough to get out a small boat.

At seven bells the "doctor" managed to get some fire started in the galley, and all hands had a drink of hot coffee. This was cheering, and Trunnell soon had the watch hard at work getting out new canvas from the lazaretto aft. The main deck was getting safer, and although she took the sea heavily now and then, she was no longer like a half-tide rock in a strong current.

Topsails were hoisted out from below and gantlines bent. By the time all hands had eaten something and eight bells had struck, we were ready to get up new topsails and start the pumps.

Luckily there was little water below. In spite of the tremendous straining the ship had made no more than could be expected, and in a little over an hour at the brakes we had the satisfaction of having the pumps suck.

All that morning we worked aloft getting new gear up. The British ship drew away on our weather beam, wallowing horribly in the seaway. The wind died away gradually into a good stiff gale, and by noon we had a break or two above us that let down the sunlight. This cheered all hands. A good meal with extra coffee was served forward, and I sat down to the cabin table with Chips and the steward, to eat ravenously of prime junk and preserved potatoes.

"'Tis a quare time ye had ag'in last night, forrads, hey?" said Chips.

"It was interesting for a few minutes," I answered. "I hope you fixed the fellow's irons all right. Keys seem to have strange ways aboard this vessel."

"Well, ye needn't be afear'd av th' raskil takin' leave ag'in. Sure, an' I riveted his irons this time, as will take a file an' no less to cut through. I votes we get th' old man to put him aboard th' first ship what comes a-heavin' down nigh enough, hey?"

"It would suit me all right," I answered.

"Jim and Long Tom an' Hans an' a whole lot av us have th' matter in mind, an' we'll speak wid th' skipper afore long. There's a divil's mess below in th' fore-peak, where a barrel has bruk loose that I'll have to mix wid first. Be ye a-goin' in th' boat aboard th' stranger whin th' sea goes down?"

"I suppose so," I said; "that lot generally falls to a second mate."

"Be sure, thin, ye have th' plug in all right an' th' oars sound, fer th' sea will be heavy fer a bad craft, and ye mind th' irons last night."

"I'll just take a look at them before I start. Chips," I said. "Thank you for keeping tabs on the skipper."

"It's no great matter," he answered; and then we fell to with a will until the meal was finished.

VIII

At three bells in the afternoon the sea had begun to go down enough to allow us to get our new topsails on her and a main-topgallantsail. The _Pirate_ went smoking through it under the pressure, trembling with each surge, and throwing a perfect storm of water over her catheads. The English ship was now a mere speck to windward, almost hull down, and we would have to beat up to her if we could.

Just how badly she needed help we of course could not tell. If she were sinking fast, then she would have to depend upon her own boats, for the sea was too heavy until late in the afternoon to venture out in our only one left. We could no longer see her signals, but carried all the sail possible, without danger of carrying away our spars, in the effort to get close to her again.

After standing along for an hour or more we wore ship, and found that we could just about get within hailing distance to leeward.

Trunnell had the reef tackles rigged from the main yard, and the life-boat was slung clear of the lee rail. Then, watching a chance, she was let go with Hans and Johnson in her to keep her clear and dropped back to the mizzen channels, where the volunteers were ready to get aboard her.

Four men besides myself manned her, and she was instantly let go to keep her clear of the sea, which hove her first high on the _Pirate's_ quarter, and then down until our faces were below the copper on her bends. By dint of quick work we shoved her clear, and started on the pull, dead to windward.

How small the _Pirate_ looked when we were but a few fathoms distant in that sea! Our boat rode the waves nicely without shipping much water, and several times I turned to look back at the ship, where Trunnell stood beside the skipper, watching us through the glasses, and waiting to pick us up on our return. I could see the "doctor's" face above the topgallant rail forward and that of Chips in the waist.

It was a long pull. The sea was running high and the wind was still blowing a half gale, breaking up the heavy oily clouds into long banks between which the sun shone at intervals. It was a good half hour's work before we could cover the short distance between the ships.

We came slowly up under her lee quarter, and when we were quite close I could see that she was indeed very deep, if not actually sinking. The words "Royal Sovereign, Liverpool," were painted in gold letters on her stern, and on the circular buoys hanging upon her quarter-rail was the same name in black. A group of men stood near the mizzen rigging, and one short man with a black sou'wester and blue pilot coat hailed us through a large-mouthed trumpet, which almost hid his bearded face.

"Boat ahoy! can you come aboard?" he roared.

"We'll try to come alongside," I bawled. "Stand by to heave a line."

A man had one ready and hove it well out with a yell to catch. Long Tom, our lean Yankee sailor, who was pulling bow oar, seized it as it fell across and took a turn around a thwart. The oars were shipped and we fell under the vessel's stern, riding the seas without mishap.

"We're sinking," cried the short man, who was the captain. "Can you take some of us with you?"

"Aye, aye; get them aboard here as quick as you can," came the answer.

There was no time lost now. Men swarmed toward the taffrail, and for an instant it looked as if there would be something of a panic. The short skipper, however, flung them aside without ceremony, and the next instant a female figure appeared at the rail.

"Haul easy," came the order. Hans and Tom pulled in the line slowly until the boat's bow was leading almost directly beneath the ship's stern. A bridle was rigged from the spanker boom and made fast to a life buoy. Then the lady who had appeared at the taffrail was slung in it rather uncomfortably and carefully lowered away. She was seized by one of the men forward, and handed aft to me.

The woman was quite young. She was slightly built, and I supported her easily until she was safely in the stern sheets. A few strands of curly blond hair blew across my face, and gave me a most peculiar feeling as I brushed them aside. Then she turned up her face, and I saw that she had most beautiful eyes, soft and gentle, with a trusting look, such as one sees in children.

"Thank you, Mr. Sailorman," she said, with a smile. "I'm all right now."

"Except, perhaps, for a little wetting, you will stay so, I hope," I answered.

A heavy woman was being lowered away, and Hans caught her boldly around the body, trying to keep her from being thrown out of the tossing small boat. She shrieked dismally.

"Don't be silly, mamma," cried the young lady aft. "You've been squeezed tighter than that before, I am sure."

She was passed aft and took her place beside her daughter in the stern, expostulating incoherently at the younger one's insinuations.

Then followed a little man, short and stout, who was evidently the ship's carpenter, and he was followed by a dozen sailors.

"Haven't you any boats that will swim?" I asked of the mate, who hung over the rail above me.

"We're getting them out now," he answered.

"Then let us go. We've got a big enough load already."

In a few moments we were on our way back to the _Pirate_, making good headway before the wind and sea, and shipping little water.

The men explained as we went along that the _Sovereign_ had started a butt during the gale, and she was full of water by this time. They had kept at the pumps all day, but had given it up when they saw we were coming for them. The ship's cargo of oil and light woods from the peninsula had kept her from going to the bottom. She was homeward bound to Liverpool, and it was the captain's wife and daughter we were bringing aboard. The hurricane had caught them aback and dismasted them during the night, and after six hours of plunging helplessly into the sea without anything but the mainmast and stump of the foremast above the deck, she had sprung a leak and filled rapidly. The maintopsail they had bent in the morning after extraordinary exertion, and with this they had managed to keep her partly under control.

"She will never go to the bottom with all the soft wood she has in her," said a sailor who was old and grizzled and had the bearing of a man-of-war's man. "She can't sink for months. The water is up to her lower deck already."

"So that's the reason you were not getting your boats out in a hurry?" I asked.

"Sure," said he; "I'd as soon stay in her a bit longer as in many a bleedin' craft that you sees a-goin' in this trade."

"I noticed you were one of the first to leave her," said the young girl, with some spirit.

"Ah, mum, when you gets along in life like me, hardships is not good for the constitootion. A sailorman, 'e gets enough o' them without huntin' any more. Howsumever, if I see any chance o' gettin' the bleedin' craft in port 'way out here in this Hindian Ocean, I'd be the last to leave. Bust me, mum, if that ain't the whole truth, an' a little more besides. You ask your pa."