Bob the Castaway Part 22

"Very well, tell the men to get in. Mr. Carr will be in command of one boat, Mr. Bender the other, and I will go in my gig. Bob, you and Mr. Tarbill will go with me. Pull well away from the wreck, men, and lay to until we are all together. Then we'll try to get our bearings."

It was getting lighter now, but the storm showed no signs of abating. The _Eagle_ was fairly impaled on a sharp point of the sunken reef and was immovable, but the waves were dashing high over the bows.

Suddenly the ship gave a shudder and seemed as if about to tear herself loose, ready to sink beneath the billows.

"Lively, men!" exclaimed the captain. "She'll not last much longer!"

The orders were given to lower the boats. Bob went forward to watch the work, holding on by stray cables that dangled from the wrecked masts.

As the boat of which Mr. Bender was to take charge was being lowered, one of the ropes in the davit pulley, that at the bow, fouled, and, as the sailors at the other davit were letting their line run free, the boat tilted. There was imminent risk of the oars, sail, and mast, besides the supplies, being spilled out. Bob saw the danger and sprang forward with a shout, intending to lend a hand.

As he did so a big piece of one of the yards of the broken mizzen mast which had been hanging by splinters was whipped loose by a gust of wind and fell almost at his feet, missing him by a small margin. Had it struck him squarely it would have killed him.

Bob only hesitated an instant, though the narrow escape gave him a faint feeling in his stomach. Then, before he could make the sailors understand what the trouble was, he grabbed the rope that was running free and, taking a turn about a cleat, prevented the further lowering of the boat.

"Good!" shouted Second-Mate Bender, who had seen what had taken place. "You saved the boat, Bob. In another second all the stuff would have been afloat. Lively now, men. Straighten out that line and lower away. She's settling fast."

In the meanwhile Mr. Carr had succeeded in lowering his boat, and he and his men were in it. The crew of the captain's gig were busy with that craft, and it was all ready to lower.

"Get in, Bob," said the commander of the _Eagle_. "And you too, Mr. Tarbill."

"Aren't you coming?" asked Bob.

"I'm the last one in," was the sad answer, and then the boy understood that the captain is always the last to leave a sinking ship.

"Shall we get in before you lower it?" asked Bob of the sailors who stood at the davit ropes.

"Yes. We can lower it with you two in. The captain and we can slide down the ropes. We're used to it, but it's ticklish business for land-lubbers." And the man grinned even in that time of terror.

Captain Spark had gone to his cabin for his log book, the ship's papers, and his nautical instruments. As he came out the red sun showed for an instant above the horizon.

"If we had seen that a few hours sooner we wouldn't be here now,"

remarked the commander sadly. "But it's too late now."

The other boats had pulled away from the wreck. Bob and Mr.

Tarbill got into the gig and were lowered to the surface of the heaving ocean.

"Take an oar and fend her away from the ship's side a bit," the captain advised Bob. "Else a wave may smash the gig."

Bob did so. Mr. Tarbill was shivering too much with fear to be of any help. A few seconds later the two sailors who had lowered the boat at the captain's orders leaped into the gig as a wave lifted it close to the _Eagle's_ rail. Then the commander, carrying a few of his possessions and with a last look around his beloved ship, made the same jump and was in his gig.

"Pull away," he commanded sorrowfully, and the sailors rowed out from the foundered ship.

When they were a little way off they rested on their oars. All around them was a waste of heaving waters. The two other boats came up, and the occupants looked at the _Eagle_ settling lower and lower as the water filled her. The wrecked ship, now sunk almost to her deck level, seemed, save for the three boats, to be the only object in sight on the bosom of the tumultuous ocean.

"Well, men, give way!" at length called the captain, with a sigh.

"We may be sighted by some vessel, or we may land on an island.

There are several islands hereabouts, if we are not too far away from them."

Then, bending to the oars, the sailors sent the boats away from the wreck. Bob and his friends were afloat on the big ocean in small boats that, at any moment, might be swamped by a mighty wave, for the wind was still blowing hard, though the sun shone brightly in the eastern sky.

CHAPTER XVIII

BOB ON AN ISLAND

"Keep together, men!" called the captain, as they pulled away. "We don't want to lose one another."

"Which way shall we pull, sir?" asked the first mate.

"I'll tell you presently. I'll look at my charts and see if I can't locate an island somewhere here-abouts. Keep up your courage. Luckily this didn't happen down in the Straits. At least we have warm weather here."

For the first time Bob noticed that it was very warm. It had been so, of course, for several days preceding the wreck, but the thought that they were in a tropical climate had been forgotten in the excitement of the foundering of the ship. Now it was a thing for which to be thankful.

"Oh! Isn't this the most terrible thing that could occur!"

exclaimed Mr. Tarbill, from a seat where he was huddled up. "It is awful!"

"It's not half so awful as if we were drowned and in Davy Jones's locker," remarked the captain. "I've lost my ship and the cargo, but, fortunately, both were insured. We are lucky to have had time to get off in the boats, well provisioned as they are. As soon as this wind goes down a bit we'll hoist the small sails and head for the nearest land."

The captain was soon busy over his charts. He made some calculations and announced his belief that there was a group of islands about a hundred miles off. He could not be sure, for while they showed on the chart, he could not exactly determine the position of the ship when she struck, as no observation had been taken since the previous noon, and the rate of sailing under the force of the gale was mere guesswork.

So the men rowed on. The _Eagle_ was now a mere blot on the surface of the ocean--a speck of blackness amid a swirl of foam, caused by the waves breaking over the ship and the reef. The wind continued too high to risk raising the sail with which each boat was provided, and it was slow progress with the oars.

The day was one of terror, for many times waves would break over the small craft, forcing the men to bail for their lives. Only cold provisions could be eaten, but in spite of this the little band of shipwrecked men maintained a cheerful demeanor. As for Bob he did not deny that he was frightened. He thought with sorrow of his father and mother and wondered if he would ever see them again.

He and the others had removed their life-preservers, as they did not need them in the gig.

"That was a plucky thing you did, saving that boat from going down stern first," complimented the captain, a little later that day when they were talking over the events of the wreck. "You showed good judgment, Bob."

"Oh, I guess anybody would have done the same."

"No, they wouldn't. You deserve great credit. Bravery in the face of danger is bravery indeed. Your father and mother can be proud of you."

There came to Bob's mind a memory of certain times when these words of the captain would not have been true. He resolved, if his life was spared, to be a more manly boy in the future--to live up to the captain's new estimate of him.

Wearily the men labored at the oars. It was hard work to keep the boats' heads to the waves, which, to those in the small craft, looked like great green mountains of water. Now the boats would be down in a vast hollow, with towering walls on either side. Then the stanch craft would be lifted up and, poising on the crests, would slide down a watery hill with a sickening feeling, present at least in the hearts of Bob and Mr. Tarbill, that they were going straight for the bottom. The nervous pa.s.senger sat huddled up in a heap, scarcely speaking.

The wind seemed to increase as night drew on. The motion of the captain's gig was such that he could not take an observation, and, when the blackness settled down, they had no idea where they were, nor in which direction the nearest land lay.

"I'm afraid we'll be separated in the darkness," said the captain, "but there is no help for it."

The day of terror was succeeded by a night of peril. The sea and wind seemed combining to wreck the small boats. The one commanded by Mr. Carr managed to remain within hailing distance of the captain's gig, but the other seemed to have disappeared. A feeling of gloom settled down over the castaways.

It must have been about the middle of the night that Bob, working his way aft to get a drink of water from one of the casks, stumbled over part of the sail that was folded in the bottom of the gig. He put out his hands, instinctively, to save himself, but, as there was nothing to cling to, he only grasped the air.

Then, with a cry of terror which he could not suppress, he plunged overboard and was soon struggling in the water.