Kilgorman Part 31

"This time to-morrow, by all signs, we shall not be lying idle," said I, glancing up at the metallic sky, and following the line of a school of porpoises as they wheeled across our stern.

"So much the better. We must run before the wind wherever it comes from. We could not live through a cross-sea for an hour."

The storm came sooner than I expected. The metallic sky grew overcast, and a warning shudder fell over the still surface of the water. Then a sudden squall took us amidships, and sent us careening over on our beam, before we even knew that the calm was at an end.

We had no more than time to shorten our courses and turn her head, when the tempest struck us from the south-west, lashing up the sea at our stern, and making our cranky masts stoop forward and creak like things in mortal pain.

The carpenter's face grew longer than ever.

"For mercy's sake, captain," said he, "keep her in the wind, or she'll crack to pieces. You can't afford to take a point. We're only sound under calm water-line; above it, she's as thirsty as a sieve."

"More shame to you," growled Captain Keogh. "We're all thirsty here."

"You'll have water enough presently," muttered the carpenter to himself as he went below.

"Gallagher, you and your brother take the helm. Keep her out a taste, whatever yonder fool says. My! she's spinning along for once in a way.

At this rate we shall make Achill by night."

"Better try for Galway, sir," said I.

"Hold your tongue, you French fool," cried the captain, who was greatly excited. "Save your advice till it's asked, or go aloft.--I tell you,"

said he, turning to Tim, "it's Sligo or nowhere. There's not a cruiser there to interfere with us, or an exciseman that we can't square. I reckon there's profit enough in this lace to pay an admiral's prize- money. Galway! You might as well try to land at London Bridge."

Here the carpenter once more rushed on deck. He looked up at the canvas, then at the compa.s.s, then at the helm.

"I declare, after what I told you, you're two points out of the wind, sir. The ship won't stand it, I tell you. She's leaking already. You need all that canvas down, and only your jibs and foresails; and even then you must let her run."

Captain Keogh turned upon him with a torrent of abuse.

"Saints help us! Am I the captain of this ship, or are you, you long- jawed, squint-eyed, whining son of a wood-chopper you? First it's a French stowaway wants to tell me my business, then it's you. Why doesn't the cabin-boy come up and take charge of the ship? Way there take in the courses, and let the helm go. Give the fool what he wants, and give me a dram for luck."

All that day we flew through the water in front of as fierce a south- wester as I was ever out in. The carpenter reported that the pumps were holding their own and no more, but that a dozen cross-seas would split us open like rotten medlar. When night fell, the weather promised to grow worse, and the rain and hail at our backs made it almost impossible to keep up our heads.

"It's all very well," said Tim, who had been down to the cabin to inspect the chart, "but this can't go on. We've had water-room all day, but I reckon we are closing in on the land every yard now, and if we don't put out her head we shall find ourselves on the Connemara coast."

"Better run for Galway, and say nothing," said I.

"Too late now. I wish we had."

"Out she goes then," said I; "it's a question between going down where we are or breaking to pieces against Slyne Head."

"That's just it," said Tim. "The captain's dead drunk below. Call all hands aft, Barry; let them choose."

The men crowded aft, and Tim spoke to them.

"We're in for an ugly night, my lads, and we're on a rotten boat. The carpenter says, unless we run before the wind, we shall go to pieces in half-an-hour. I say, if we do run, we shall be on Slyne Head in two hours. Which shall it be? I don't mind much myself."

"Put it to the vote," said one.

So a vote was taken, and of forty men who voted, twenty-five were for death in two hours, and fifteen for death in an hour.

"Very good," said Tim. "Get to your posts, and remember you are under orders till we strike. Then shift for yourselves; and the Lord have mercy on us all!"

"Amen!" said the sailors, and returned to their duties.

It was a terrible night, and, to make matters worse, as black as pitch.

We should not even have the help of daylight for meeting our doom.

"Barry," said Tim, "I don't think we shall both perish. If it's I, promise me you will fight for Ireland till she is free."

"If you die, Tim, I don't care what I do. I promise. And if I die, promise me--"

"Not to go near that girl?"

"No," said I, with a groan.

"What, then?"

"Search below the great hearth at Kilgorman, and do whatever the message you will find there bids you. It is not my message, but our mother's."

"I promise that. But hold on now," said he, catching me by the arm, "the old ship's beforehand with us. She's going to pieces before we reach sh.o.r.e."

Sure enough she was. The rough water into which we were plunging loosened her already warped timbers, and she gradually ceased to rise on the waves, but settled down doggedly and sullenly as the water poured in on this side and that and filled her hold. Captain Keogh, suddenly roused to his senses, staggered on deck, and took the helm, not for any good he could do, but from the sailor's instinct to be at his post at the end.

All hands came on deck, and the order was given to lower the boats. For the credit of these Irishmen be it said that no man stepped in till he was ordered by name. The first boat capsized before she even reached the water, and swung with a crash that shivered her against the side of the ship. The other was more fortunate, and got clear just before we foundered.

Tim, who might have joined it, preferred to stand by me. The other men provided themselves with spars or corks, and prepared for the end.

"Keep near me," said Tim with a tremble in his voice, not of fear but of affection.

That was all I heard; for at that moment the _Kestrel_ gave a dive forward, which cleared her decks, and sent her, captain, lace, and all, to the bottom.

"Jump!" cried a voice at my side.

I felt an arm round me as the water closed over us; and when, struggling hard against the suck of the foundering ship, I rose to the surface, Tim was beside me with one arm still round me, the other clinging to a floating spar.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

ON HIS MAJESTY'S SERVICE.

How long Tim and I clung to the spar I know not. The next thing I remember was opening my eyes and finding myself in the bottom of a boat crowded with men from the _Kestrel_. The sea was running mountains high, and the boat, without rudder or oars, was flung like a cork from wave to wave. The dawn was just beginning to show in the sky, and the thunder of surf and wind was deafening.

"Where is Tim?" said I.

No one heard me, or, if they heard, heeded me. I raised my head and looked anxiously from one to another of my comrades.