John Holdsworth, Chief Mate. William Clark Russell
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it possible?” stammered Mr. St. Aubyn, turning deadly pale.
“It is possible!” cried the skipper scornfully. “But I hope you are not going to be afraid, sir. Look over the break of the poop and you’ll see the men pumping for their lives. Danger is one thing, and drowning is another. I beg, sir, that you will control your fears. Panics are easily created, and you will remember, please, that we have women among us.”
Saying which he walked some paces away. Mr. St. Aubyn burst into tears; Mr. Holland gazed around him with an air of stupefaction; the General followed the skipper.
“Is our position really serious?”
“Yes, General; the ship’s bottom is leaky fore and aft.”
“What do you mean to do?”
“Keep her afloat as long as I can. And now will you do me a service? Go and clap that snivelling actor on the back and put some heart in him. One coward makes many, and this is no time for any man on board my ship who values his life at one farthing to lose his pluck.”
By this time the hands forward had lashed a block on the stump of the fore-mast, and run up a spare staysail. Holdsworth then came aft to the poop. The captain called him to the skylight, and they hung together over the chart, calculating their neighbourhood, and devising expedients in subdued tones. The men who were far enough forward to see them as they stood together on the poop eyed them curiously, and held muttering conversations together, some of them going to the ship’s side and looking over.
It was felt by every man among them that the vessel was sinking; and those who worked the pumps plied them languidly, as though understanding the fruitlessness of their labour.
Mrs. Tennent came on deck with her boy and stood near Holdsworth, asking no questions, but with an expression on her face that plainly showed her conscious of the danger and prepared for the worst. Soon afterwards came Mrs. Ashton, who shrieked out when she beheld the dismasted hull, and clung convulsively to her husband. Her maid followed her, shivering, cowed, with big eyes staring everywhere like a madwoman’s.
Then a dead silence fell upon the ship, disturbed only by the languid clanking of the pumps and the fall of the continuous streams of water over the ship’s sides.
It was now half-past eight o’clock. Not a breath of air rippled the surface of the sea, which rose and sank to a deep and voluminous under-swell. Some heavy clouds hung motionless in the blue sky, from one of which a shower of rain was falling about a mile off, arching a little brilliant rainbow upon the water.
Presently Holdsworth advanced to the poop-rail and sang out to the carpenter to sound the well. This was done, and the report showed that the leak was gaining fast upon the pumps.
On this announcement all heart went out of the captain like a flash, and left him silent and spiritless.
He rallied, went to Holdsworth’s side and called out: “Belay that pumping there! Boatswain, send all hands aft to the quarter-deck.”
The sound of the pumping ceased, the men came aft in groups and stood in a crowd.
Some of them were bearded, some quite young; their attire was various but always picturesque: here a red shirt, there white, here blue serge, there coarse canvas, many with bare brown arms ringed with tattoo-marks; some in sea-boots, some with naked feet. The bright sun gleamed upon their upturned faces, pale for want of sleep and with the intense weariness of their long and heavy labours. There was no want of respect suggested by any of them; but, on the contrary, there was a rough and sympathetic deference in their manner and gaze as they fixed their eyes on their white-haired skipper and listened to his speech, which he delivered in a voice that now and then faltered.
“My men, I had hoped to keep our poor old hooker afloat by manning the pumps day and night and head for home, which, with a breeze astern of us, we might have reached even in the trim the gale last night has put us in. But I find that the water is gaining upon us faster than we can pump it out, and it’s not my intention to fag you with useless work. But in this sea the hull is likely to float for some hours yet; so we shall have plenty of time to get the boats out and do the best we can for our lives. You are most of you Englishmen, and those who are not are all brave fellows, and no man can be better than that, let him hail from what port he may: so I can depend upon you turning to and obeying orders quietly. There are thirty-four souls aboard of us and four boats; there’s room for thirteen in the long-boat, and for seven apiece in the quarter-boats. I’ll take charge of the long-boat, your chief mate of the pinnace, and the second mate and boatswain will take the others. There’s no hurry, and there must be no confusion. Let a dozen hands man the pumps, the rest go to breakfast and then relieve the pumps. Then tumble aft, get the long-boat launched, and do the best we can for ourselves; and may God preserve us! Amen.”
At the conclusion of this speech the men raised a cheer, the boatswain’s pipe shrilled, clang went the pumps again, and the quarter-deck was deserted.
The captain turned to the passengers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, these are ugly straits for me to have brought you into, and I would that God in His mercy had ordained it otherwise. I have been forty years at sea, and the like of this has never befallen me before. But that’s no matter. I’ll take care to do my duty by you to the last. We have got enough boats to accommodate us all comfortably; the weather promises fair, and it’s odds if every one of us isn’t snug and safe on board some ship before to-night; for we’re right in the track of homeward-bound ships from the United States. Some of you will come with me, and some go along with my chief officer, who has worked nobly for us all, and who’ll work as nobly right away through for those who are with him whilst the life is in his body. Ladies, keep up your courage; for a sinking ship is a small matter when you’ve got good boats, and are with men who know how to handle ’em. We’ll go below now and make as good a breakfast as we can; we’ll then provision the boats and put off, as sure as our hearts can make us that God’s eye, which is everywhere, will not lose sight of us.”
There were some murmurs, and then a silence, which Mrs. Ashton broke by bursting into a passion of tears. When she was in some measure calmed, the General said:
“Fellow-passengers, will you unite with me in a prayer to our merciful God for His protection?”
The men took off their hats, but the captain exclaimed:
“General, there are hands for’ard who might like to join us. We should give them the chance.”
Holdsworth went to the forecastle, and presently returned with the whole ship’s company following him. The hands at the pump ceased their work to gather round the capstan, and the passengers attended the skipper in a body to the quarter-deck. The old General stood in the midst of the crowd and knelt—an example followed by the rest.
There was something too sacred in the nature of the extemporaneous prayer offered up by the General to make it proper for me to write it down here; but its effect was deeply impressive. Noble, beyond the power of words to describe, was the spectacle of the fine old American, bare-headed and kneeling, his trembling hands clasped, his kindly, honest face upturned to the skies, breathing forth in broken tones an earnest entreaty that God, in His infinite mercy, would look down upon His servants now and grant them His all-powerful protection in this their hour of danger and suffering. Equally affecting was the spectacle of the men—some with hands clasped before their faces, some kneeling with reverently-bowed heads, some gazing with earnest eyes upon the petitioner, and some even weeping—not unmanly tears—those who wept were among the bravest. The widow knelt with her arms about her child’s neck, in an attitude both shielding and imploring. The husband and wife prayed hand-in-hand.
Overhead shone the joyous sun; the long and polished swell surged against the sluggish vessel’s side; and amidst the tones of the old General and the solemn murmur of those who followed his words, you might hear the gurgling of the water in the hold, and feel the ship’s growing weight and helplessness in the heavy and weary rolls she gave to the movement of the sea.
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