Chapter 13

THE CALAMITY ON FRENCH REEF.

I jumped to the conclusion that the Islander had struck on one of the shoals I had noticed on the chart, and the heavy sea was pounding her on the bottom. It could be only a question of time when she would knock a hole in her bottom and go to pieces. Washburn was wide awake as soon as he heard the gun, and giving him the wheel, I proceeded to examine the chart.

According to the dead-reckoning we ought to be a little to the southward of French Shoal. While I was satisfying myself in regard to our position, another gun sounded over the troubled sea.

"That can't be the Islander's gun," said Washburn. "She has nothing on board but a little yacht gun, and the piece we heard is a six, if not a twelve pounder."

"I think you are right, Bob. The sound came from the leeward. I have no doubt it is some vessel in distress; and we must do something for her. Call all hands," I continued, as I took the wheel, and headed the Sylvania due west by the compass.

Though it was not foggy, the air was thick, and I could see nothing ahead. We had a very strong wind on our port quarter, and it was extremely dangerous to approach the reefs from the windward. In a moment all hands were on deck, except Moses Brickland, who was required to take the engine whenever all hands were called on an emergency. I directed Hop Tossford to take the wheel, and keep her due west. I asked the mate to fire our little yacht gun, in answer to the signals we had heard. The moment the report sounded through the vessel I heard Mrs. Shepard scream.

I told the chief engineer to give the steamer about half speed, and hastened into the cabin to satisfy the passengers that nothing had happened to us, and explain what we were doing. Mrs. Shepard assured us that we should all be lost; but I told her we would be extremely careful.

I asked my father, Colonel Shepard, and Owen to come on deck, leaving Mr. Tiffany and Gus Shepard to take charge of the ladies. I explained the situation to them, and while we were talking about it another gun was heard to leeward. It sounded heavier and nearer than before, and I was sure the signal was not given by the Islander.

"It is plain enough that a vessel has gone ashore on one of these reefs," I said. "I can see nothing ahead, but the gun sounds in this direction."

Before the words were fairly out of my mouth, a sky rocket flashed up directly over our bow. We had rockets on board, and I directed Ben to discharge one of them. It was followed by another from the vessel in distress. Then some Bengola lights were fired, and they illuminated the sea for a mile at least around her. Buck Lingley was sounding, and reporting no bottom. I told the engineer to give her more steam, for I feared the people on the unfortunate vessel might be drowning, and a minute might save a life, if not more. As long as the bright Bengola light burned, I kept the steamer going at full speed. Most of the dangerous reefs were marked by beacons, or at least the outer range of the reef was so marked.

The sea was very heavy, and Buck Lingley still reported no bottom. He used a hand lead, which measures twenty fathoms of depth. The Bengola light soon burned out, and I rang the speed-bell. This reduced our rate one half. But it seemed to me that we were going altogether too fast, as the strong south-east gale was driving us towards the reefs. I rang the gong, and the vessel stopped.

"And a half seventeen!" shouted Buck.

"The water is shoaling," said the mate.

"By the mark ten!" called the leadsman.

"Get out some rockets and Bengola lights, Washburn," I continued, nervously. "The people on the wreck don't even give us a light to steer by."

"And a half seven!" shouted the leadsman.

I rang to back her, for she shoaled too rapidly for my nerves. I told the mate to light a Bengola on the heel of the bowsprit. When he did so the brilliant light enabled me to see the wreck very distinctly, and less than a hundred yards from the Sylvania. She was a large bark, with all her sails furled. Her captain had probably taken in all sail as soon as the vessel struck the reef.

The chart informed me there were rocks only a few feet below the surface of the water. The wreck was headed to the south-west, but this could not have been the direction in which she was sailing when she struck the reef. On that course she would have got into trouble before.

"By the deep seven!" said the leadsman, in loud and shrill tones.

I rang to go ahead again, and at the same time told the mate to keep the Bengola lights burning. Ben Bowman was stationed at the end of the bowsprit that the light might not blind his eyes. I had purchased a plentiful supply of fireworks in New York for festive occasions, and we were in no danger of exhausting them, as they had evidently done on the wreck.

"Give her about ten turns a minute, Moses!" I called to the engineer through the speaking-tube.

"Ten turns a minute!" he replied, to make sure that I had been understood.

"Steady, as she is, Hop!" I said to the wheel-man. "If you see anything like a buoy, stop and back her as quick as you can."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the wheelman.

I went on the hurricane-deck to get a better view of the wreck. It was hard to stand up in that part of the vessel, for she pitched and rolled very badly, while she was making so little headway. By holding on at the railing, I got to a point where I could hug the foremast. The wreck was very low down, and I concluded that she was full of water.

"And a half six!" said Buck.

This was thirty-nine feet of water, and we were in no danger yet. The waves were beating over the deck of the bark. It was clear enough that she must go to pieces before morning. Her bulwarks were stove on the weather side of her; and while I was looking at her the foremast went by the board. I saw that the step of the mast must have been torn away by grinding upon the rocks.

We were within a hundred feet of her stern, and the billows were too savage to permit of going any nearer. I hastened down to the pilothouse, rang to stop her, and then to back her. I intended to be sure that we had full control of the steamer before we went any nearer. I found that the Sylvania backed well against the head sea, and then I stopped her screw.

In an instant I found that the steamer was driving towards the wreck. I rang to back her again, and readily checked her.

I saw that the only way I could approach the unfortunate vessel was to get under her lee. The sea was altogether too rough for our little quarter boats, though both of them were life-boats. By occasionally backing the screw, we ran within fifty feet of the wreck, and I could hear the roar of the gale through the standing rigging of the bark, and the heavy pounding of the billows against her side.

"Steamer ahoy!" shouted a man on the taffrail of the vessel.

"On board the bark!" replied Washburn, on the topgallant forecastle. "What is the condition of the vessel?"

"Our forefoot is gone, and we are stove through forward. She is full of water," replied the man. "She is grinding on the reef, and will go to pieces in a few hours."

"How much water have you under your lee?" I shouted.

"From one to three fathoms," replied the captain of the bark, as we judged that he was.

With the utmost care I ran the Sylvania under the lee of the bark; and I think it must have taken all the tact of Moses Brickland to handle the engine in accordance with the bells I rang. But as soon as the bow of the steamer was under the lee of the bark it was in comparatively smooth water. From the statement of the captain, and the depth of water he reported, I concluded that one of the sharp spurs of rock was sticking through her bottom near where her forefoot had been, and that she was held in this position by the reef. Buck kept on sounding, and reported four fathoms at the stern of the wreck. Cobbington was now in charge of the Bengolas, and Washburn was getting the hawsers ready to make fast to the bark. We put out our fenders, and the mate heaved a line into the waist of the wreck. Ben Bowman did the same, throwing his line over the stern. The lines were caught by the seamen on board, and made fast.

Though the water was fairly still at the leeward of the bark, I found that the vessel was rolling badly, and greatly endangering the safety of the Sylvania. The gale was driving the wreck farther on the reef, and I feared that the mainmast would go by the board and fall on the steamer.

"All aboard that are going!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, as I stood at the wheel, ready to do whatever an emergency might require. The two vessels were grinding their sides together, and nothing but our fenders saved our planks from being torn off.

The men on board the bark were very slow in seeking safety, and I was about to repeat my former call, when I saw two women appear on the rail by the mizzen rigging. Our hands hastened to their assistance, and as the bark was so low in the water they had no difficulty in getting them on our hurricane-deck. As soon as they were safely on board, the men poured in upon us without further delay. There was not one among them that would leave the wreck until the women were safe. The officers and seamen brought with them whatever they could carry of their personal property. One of them returned and cast off the hawsers.

As soon as the fasts were cast off, I rang to back her; and, bringing the Sylvania's head up to the wind, I wore her gradually around till she was headed to the eastward. The sea was white with foam from the raging billows, and the little steamer leaped like an antelope as she went ahead on her course. It was impossible to stand up in any part of her. I ran out about four miles to the eastward, where the steamer was when we heard the signal-gun from the wreck. We had been absent on our run to the reef about two hours. We laid our course as before, and I gave the wheel to Hop Tossford, that I might attend to the wants of the shipwrecked guests on board.

The Sylvania was rolling on her new course at a frightful rate, and our deck was deluged with water every moment. The gale seemed to be increasing rather than diminishing, and I was not sure how long we could stand such a tumbling about as we were getting. With no little difficulty and exertion we got a reefed foresail up, which steadied her very much. I went down into the cabin, where I had sent the ladies from the wreck. I found our passengers propped up in such ways as they could devise to keep from being hurled across the cabin floor at each roll of the vessel. The strangers seemed to be quite at home, and were relating their adventures to the other ladies, who were listening with so much interest that they appeared to have forgotten the Sylvania was laboring in a very heavy sea. I saw that I was not wanted there. I went on deck, and found that the sailors from the wreck were stowed away in the dryest places they could find.

I invited them all down into the forward cabin, and assigned the mate to the spare berth there. The others must sleep on the floor, for we could do nothing better for them.

"Mr. Mate, where is your captain?" I asked.

"I don't think he came below, sir. He is feeling very badly about the loss of his vessel," replied the mate. "I will try to find him."

He went on deck with me, and we found him coiled away under the topgallant forecastle. I invited him to come into the pilot-house, and he followed me thither.

"I am sorry for your misfortune, Captain," I said, when he had seated himself abaft the wheel.

"It is a sorry night for me. My vessel is lost, and I have not the least idea how it happened," he replied, very sadly.

I did my best to comfort him. I saw that he was quite as much exhausted by his mental sufferings as by his physical exertions. I conducted him to my state-room, and gave him my berth. In a short time he was asleep.