Adrift in Pacific and Other Great Adventures – 17 Titles in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
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Just before midnight such a wave came thundering against the stern that it was a wonder the rudder was not unshipped. The boys were thrown backwards by the shock, but they recovered themselves almost immediately.
" Does she still steer ? " asked one of them.
" Yes, Gordon," answered Briant, who had coolly resumed his place. " Hold on tight, Donagan," he continued, "and don't be afraid. There are others besides ourselves to look after. You are not hurt Moko ?"
" No, Massa Briant," answered the boy. " But we must keep the yacht before the wind, or we shall be pooped."
At this moment the door of the companion leading to the saloon was thrown open. Two little heads appeared above the level of the deck, and with them came up the genial face of a dog, who saluted with a loud, "Whough ! whough !"
" Briant ! Briant ! " shouted one of the youngsters "What is the matter?"
" Nothing, Iverson, nothing!" returned Briant. " Get down again with Dole, and look sharp ! "
" We are awfully frightened down here," said the other boy, who was a little younger.
" All of you ? " asked Donagan.
" Yes; all of us ! " said Dole.
" Well, get back again," said Briant. " Shut up; get under the clothes; shut your eyes; and nothing will hurt you. There is no danger!"
" Look out," said Moko. " Here's another wave ! "
A violent blow shook the yacht's stern. This time fortunately the wave did not come on board, for if the water had swept down the companion, the yacht would have been swamped.
" Get back, will you ? " shouted Gordon. " Go down; or I'll come after you ! "
" Look here," said Briant, rather more gently. " Go down, you young 'uns."
The two heads disappeared, and at the same moment another boy appeared in the doorway.
" Do you want us, Briant ? "
" No, Baxter," said Briant. " Let you and Cross and Webb and Service and Wilcox stop with the little ones ! We four can manage."
Baxter shut the door from within.
" Yes, all of us," Dole had said.
But were there only little boys on board this schooner thus driven before the storm ? Yes, only boys ! And how many were there ? Fifteen, counting Gordon, Briant, Donagan, and the negro. How came they to be there ? That you shall know shortly.
Was there not a man on the yacht ? Not a captain to look after it ? Not a sailor to give a hand in its management ? Not a helmsman to steer in such a storm ? No ! Not one !
And more than that—there was not a person on board who knew the schooner's position on the ocean. And what ocean? The largest of all, the Pacific, which stretches for 6000 miles from Australia and New Zealand to the coast of South America.
What, then, had happened ? Had the schooner's crew disappeared in some catastrophe ? Had the Malay pirates carried them off and left on board only this batch of boys from fourteen downwards ? A yacht of a hundred tons ought to have a captain, a mate, and five or six men, and of these all that had been left was the nigger boy !
Where did the schooner come from? From what Australian port or Oceanic archipelago did she hail ? How long had she been at sea? Whither was she bound ? The boys would probably have been able to answer these questions had they been asked them by any captain speaking the schooner on her course ; but there was no vessel in sight, neither steamer nor sailing-ship, and had there been one, she would have had quite enough to do to look after herself, without giving assistance to this yacht that the sea was throwing about like a raft.
Briant and his friends did their utmost to keep the schooner straight ahead.
" What is to be done ? " asked Donagan.
" All we can to save ourselves, Heaven helping us," answered Briant, although even the most energetic man might have despaired under such circumstances, for the storm was increasing in violence.
The gale blew in thunderclaps, as the sailors say, and the expression was only too true. The schooner had lost her mainmast, gone about four feet above the partners, so that no trysail could be set under which she might have been more easily steered. The foremast still held, but the shrouds had stretched, and every minute it threatened to crash on to the deck. The forestaysail had been split to ribbons, and kept up a constant cracking, as if a rifle were being fired. The only sail that remained sound was the foresail, and this seemed as though it would go every moment, for the boys had not been strong enough to manage the last reef. If it were to go, the schooner could not be kept before the wind, the waves would board her over the quarter, and she would go down.
Not an island had been sighted; and there could be no continent yet awhile to the eastward. To run ashore was a terrible thing to do, but the boys did not fear its terrors so much as those of this interminable sea. A lee shore, with its shoals, its breakers, the terrible waves roaring on to it, and beaten into surf by the rocks, might, they thought, prove safe enough to them; at least it would be firm ground, and not this raging ocean, which any minute might open under their feet. And so they looked ahead for some light to which they could steer.
But there was no light in that thick darkness!
Suddenly, about one o'clock, a fearful crash was heard above the roaring of the storm.
" There goes the foremast! " said Donagan.
" No," said Moko; " it is the foresail blown out of the bolt ropes ! "
" We must clear it," said Briant. " You remain at the wheel, Gordon, with Donagan; and Moko, come and help me."
Briant was not quite ignorant of things nautical. On his voyage out from Europe he had crossed the North Atlantic and Pacific, and had learnt a little seamanship, . and that was why his companions, who knew none whatever, had left the schooner in his and Moko's hands.
Briant and the negro rushed forward. At all costs the foresail must be cut adrift, for it had caught and was bellying out in such a way that the schooner was in danger of capsizing, and if that happened she could never be righted, unless the mast were cut away and the wire shrouds broken, and how could the boys manage that ?
Briant and Moko set to work with remarkable judgment. Their object was to keep as much sail on the schooner as possible, so as to steer her before the wind as long as the storm lasted. They slacked off the halliards and let the sail down to within four or five feet of the deck, and they cut off the torn strips with their knives, secured the lower corners, and made all snug. Twenty times, at least, were they in danger of being swept away by the waves.
Under her very small spread of canvas the schooner could still be kept on her course, and though the wind had so little to take hold of, she was driven along at the speed of a torpedo-boat. The faster she went the better. Her safety depended on her going faster than the waves, so that none could follow and board her.
Briant and Moko were making their way back to the wheel when the door of the companion again opened. A boy's head again appeared. This time it was Jack, Briant's brother, and three years his junior.
" What do you want, Jack ? " asked his brother.
" Come here! Come here !" said Jack. " There's water in the saloon."
Briant rushed down the companion-stairs. The saloon was confusedly lighted by a lamp, which the rolling swung backwards and forwards. Its light revealed a dozen boys lounging on the couches around. The youngest—there were some as young as eight-were huddling against each other in fear.
" There is no danger," said Briant, wishing to give them confidence. " We are all right. Don't be afraid."
Then holding a lighted lantern to the floor, he saw that some water was washing from side to side.
Whence came this water ? Did it come from a leak ? That must be ascertained at once.
Forward of the saloon was the day-saloon, then the dining-saloon, and then the crew's quarters.