A Runaway Brig: or, An Accidental Cruise. Otis James
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the time a pot of tea had been steeped the storm was full upon them, causing the Bonita to pitch and toss in what Harry and Walter thought a most dangerous manner. Jim did not feel disturbed by it, however, for in his mind was the knowledge of that greater peril concerning which his companions were ignorant. The brig was dashing on literally at the mercy of the gale, and at any moment might strike a reef or the mainland, to the destruction of all on board as well as her own stout timbers, for the helmsman had no idea of what lay before them.
When Jim carried a pannikin of tea aft, leaving the other boys in the galley awaiting his return, Bob said in a low tone, as if fearing his words would be overheard:
"You must take the wheel awhile, lad, so I can hunt for the charts. It won't do to storm along like this without a little smatterin' of what's ahead, an' we'll make some kind of a guess as to where the brig was when you picked me up."
Jim grasped the spokes firmly, as much for the purpose of steadying himself against the vessel's furious plunging as to hold her before the wind, and after draining the pan of its bitter contents Bob Brace went into the cabin.
Owing to the violent motion of the brig the boys in the galley made no effort to join the young fisherman at the helm, and he was left alone during half an hour, when Bob returned.
"Did you find the charts?" Jim asked eagerly.
"Yes; an' I reckon there's no call to worry ourselves very much. We're runnin' pretty nigh south, an' if the brig was a hundred miles off the coast when I came aboard there's nothin' between us an' the Bahamas. We've got thirteen or fourteen hundred miles of clear water, an' this breeze will blow itself out before – "
"Look! Look there!" Jim cried excitedly, heaving the wheel down to port as rapidly as he could handle the spokes.
Bob turned quickly, and but one brief glance was sufficient to cause him to spring to the helmsman's aid.
There was good reason why the two were alarmed. Directly in the Bonita's course, less than half a cable's length away, a huge fabric of canvas and cordage came out of the gloom like a phantom, as if bent on running down the brig.
The stranger had all lowersails set, and a collision would have been fatal to the smaller craft because her headway was so much less than that of the other.
"Up with the helm, lad, to meet her as she comes around!" Bob screamed, when the wheel had been jammed hard down for a second, and the Bonita heeled over while responding to the rudder's sudden swing. "We shall clear her, but it'll be a rub."
The stranger had also changed her course by this time, and as the two vessels swept past each other on a heaving, screaming sea of foam, hardly twenty feet apart, Jim sprang toward the flare.
"You can't bring her to now, lad," Bob shouted as the boy ran into the galley with the basin of alcohol-saturated oakum. "Even if they were willin', we couldn't wear ship."
Jim's excitement was so great that he did not hear the old sailor's words. When he emerged from the galley the spirit was sending up a blue flame which illumined the entire after-part of the brig; but the stranger had vanished in the gloom to starboard, and strain his eyes as he might it was impossible to see any answering signal.
"You needn't spend much time lookin' for that craft, lad. We've been nearer to her than we shall ever be again, an' you'd better chuck the basin overboard before your fingers get burned."
CHAPTER VII.
AN UNEXPECTED DANGER
During the remainder of that night Bob Brace stood at the wheel, save now and then when Jim took his place that he might go into the galley to light his pipe or solace himself with a pannikin of tea.
When the young fisherman lighted the flare both Harry and Walter firmly believed that the ship which had almost run them down would heave to and offer assistance; therefore, as the Bonita plunged on through the dense gloom and over the howling waters without receiving any answer to the mute appeal for aid, their despair was intense. To have been so near those who might have given help seemed to make their position even more desolate than it was before, and after watching in vain for some show of a light from the stranger the boys gave way to grief.
"Now see here, fellers," Jim said gravely as he entered the galley and found them weeping, "feelin' bad won't help matters, an' it'll only make 'em worse. Bob says there wasn't a chance for them on the ship to lend us a hand, even if they wanted to, an' we must keep a stiff upper lip till the weather clears a bit. By this time to-morrow there may be a full crew on board, an' the brig standin' up for the coast; so don't take on so hard. It won't be any use to stay on deck 'cause neither Bob nor me can turn in, so you'd better go below. I'll sing out if there's need for help."
Neither of the boys protested against following this advice. Both were perfectly willing to go where they could not witness the conflict of the elements, and when Jim went aft again they sought refuge in the cabin with but little heed to what a few hours previous had been a place peopled with phantoms of the imagination.
They were yet below when another day dawned, and Jim prepared an appetizing breakfast before awakening them.
The gale still continued in all its fury. With the single piece of canvas the Bonita plunged and rolled on her way southward, for the wind's direction had not changed by so much as half a point, and the watch on deck looked haggard and worn from the long vigil.
During the early hours of the morning, while the sun, through its cloudy veil, was trying to dispel the gloom of night, Jim asked if it was not possible to stand nearer the land in the hope of making some port, and Bob replied very decidedly in the negative.
"It can't be done, lad. The boys below wouldn't be of any account in makin' sail, an', besides, we'd stand a good show of plumpin' on the coast where there wouldn't be the ghost of a chance to get ashore. We'll keep her as she goes till this wind blows itself out, an' then take to the boat if there's no craft in sight. This brig never'll reach port, 'cordin' to my way of thinkin', and I'll be the first to say 'leave her' when the time comes."
On this day there was but little change in the condition of affairs. The gale held strong from the north, but no sail appeared within the anxious watchers' range of vision. Harry and Walter were eager to be of some assistance; but beyond taking a few lessons in steering there was nothing they could do, and their time was passed in comparative idleness.
Bob and Jim alternately stood watch and slept until, when night came again, they were in fair bodily condition for the work before them, and once more Harry and Walter retired to the cabin, knowing they ought to do a full share of the labor, but too ignorant to give any save the most trifling aid.
Before midnight the wind fined down to a light breeze, still holding from the north, however; and Bob said, with a sigh, as Jim made ready to stand his trick at the wheel:
"Ah, lad, if we only had a couple of good men aboard how quick the old hooker's head would be turned toward the coast."
"In case we don't sight a vessel why can't you put her about, anyhow?"
"We'll make a try to get the lower canvas on in the mornin'. You an' I must have a good bit of help from the watch below, an' they'd be worse than wooden boys in the night."
This was not the only reason why Bob made no attempt to get sail on at once. He was yet feeble from the exposure and privations of the nine days in the Trade Wind's yawl, and although there was but little labor involved in such watches as had been kept since coming on board the Bonita, the anxiety prevented an immediate return of strength.
"I've heard of vessels comin' in mighty short-handed," Jim said thoughtfully, as if trying to bring forward some argument which might induce the old sailor to take greater risks. "There was a fishin' schooner from Newburyport what lost all her boats in a fog, an' the captain brought her home with nobody but the cook to help."
"I ain't a questionin' that, lad. The packet-ship Three Brothers, in the Chinese trade, anchored inside of Sandy Hook ten years ago, an' nobody aboard able to lift a hand but two men and the captain's wife – all the rest down with fever. I could spin yarns from now till daylight 'bout jes' sich cases; we're fixed different. None of us knows navigation, an' its got to