Ronald Morton, or the Fire Ships Part 22

"Time she was too," observed Rawson, and he was right, for the gloom was increasing, the rising sea was tumbling and pitching the boat about, and even with two reefs down she could scarcely look up to her canvas.

The frigate, however, had not shortened sail, and on she came, looming large through the midst as she ploughed her way with irresistible force across the intervening s.p.a.ce of tumbling foam-covered seas. Mr Calder gave the necessary orders to prepare for going alongside. It was a work of no little danger. The frigate had now got within a few hundred fathoms of the boat. Her canvas was reduced, and the helm being put down she rounded-to, and there she lay, dipping away heavily into the seas, making it appear to a landsman an utter impossibility to get near her, and even to a seaman a dangerous undertaking. The boat's sails were lowered, and, if it could have been done, the mast would have been unstepped and pitched overboard; the oars were got out, and the boat approached the side of the frigate. Numerous friendly hands were ready to heave ropes for their a.s.sistance from various parts of the sides, from the chains and ports.

"Now give way, my good lads!" shouted Mr Calder, seeing that not a moment was to be lost.

The men pulled on, but the ship at the moment plunged forward, and the boat dropped astern. Should this again occur they might lose the chance of getting alongside altogether. With renewed efforts they again pulled up. A rope was hove on board and secured to the bits, and by its a.s.sistance they at length got alongside.

"Now, lads, up with you!" shouted the lieutenant.

The men caught hold of the ropes thrown into their outstretched hands.

The greater number sprang up the side like cats, but Morton, with the right feeling that it is the officer's duty to see his men in safety before seeking his own, hung back. Now the frigate rose on the side of a sea, leaving the boat in the trough far below her, then in another instant down she came striking the boat with a terrific crash. The side was crushed in, and the water rushing over her, down she went. More ropes were hove to those still on board. Morton caught hold of a rope with his left hand, but, at the same time, a spar struck his right a blow which rendered it powerless. He held on with all the energy of despair, for he knew that if he let go he should be lost. A poor fellow, one of his companions, was washed away close to him. His own was an awful position. He had received a second blow from a fragment of the boat. The sea was surging up round him. Should the ship roll over he must be submerged, and would inevitably be torn from his hold. He tried to cry out. The spray rushed into his mouth and almost choked him. Already it was so dark that he feared no one would see him. He believed that his last hour had come. The loud roar of waters was in his ears; he was losing all consciousness, and in another instant would have let go his hold, when his arm was grasped by a vice-like clutch, and he found himself lifted upwards till he was safely deposited on deck. He looked round to ascertain who had been his preserver. A tall gaunt young man was standing and shaking the water from his jacket, but just then an order was issued for all those who had been rescued from the boat to muster aft.

Lanterns were brought, and no sooner did the light of one of them fall on Mr Calder's countenance, than one of the lieutenants, who proved to be the first of the ship, stepped forward, and grasped him warmly by the hand.

"What, old ship, is it you?" he exclaimed, almost wringing his hand off, and speaking rapidly, as if unable to restrain his feelings. "Where do you come from? What has happened to you? Tell me all about it."

This Mr Calder briefly did, and warm and hearty was the reception he met with in the gun-room, to which Rawson was also invited, while the other midshipmen were taken care of in the berth.

The gale continued to increase in fury.

"We should have found ourselves in a bad way by this time on board the French fishing-boat," observed Mr Calder. "Ah, Rawson! we have reason to be grateful, man, and we should do well if we left off grumbling for the rest of our lives."

"You would deprive all poor old mates of the only privilege they possess," answered Rawson; "that would be hard indeed."

The frigate, it was found, was bound out to the North-American station.

This was a great disappointment, as Mr Calder, especially, was anxious to rejoin the "Thisbe" as soon as possible, not to lose his chance of promotion.

However, although the gale continued to increase, Captain Markham was not the man to put back into port as long as he could possibly keep the sea. He had a good deal of the Flying Dutchman spirit about him, without the profanity of that far-famed navigator, which has so justly doomed him to so unenviable a notoriety.

The frigate was rolling and pitching somewhat heavily, as Ronald and his companions found their way into the midshipmen's berth.

"Take your seats. You are welcome here, mates," said the caterer as they entered. "We shall have food on the table in a jiffy. There's cold beef, and salt pork, and soft tack, and here is some honest Jamaica rum. Not a bad exchange for the Frenchman's wish-wash claret, I suspect."

The reception, altogether, given to the new comers was cordial, if unrefined, and not many minutes had elapsed before they were all perfectly at home. Ronald, less accustomed than the rest to a midshipman's berth, felt more inclined than usual to be silent. He found himself seated next to a midshipman, who differed considerably, both in manners and in many points, from his companions. His appearance was not at the first glance in his favour. He was red-haired, and tall, and thin; so tall, indeed, that when he stood up his shoulders touched the deck above, and his head and neck formed an arch over the table. He must have been eighteen or nineteen years old at least; indeed, he might have been older, though he still wore the uniform of a midshipman.

Ronald thought that he was rather dogmatical, though his remarks were characterised by shrewd, good sense, not dest.i.tute of humour. It was not till he stood up that Ronald, who had been looking round the berth to discover the person who had just rendered him such essential service, felt sure that he was the one. Ronald suddenly put out his hand.

"I have to thank you for saving my life just now," he exclaimed with genuine warmth. "If it had not been for you I should be floating away dead astern."

"It cost me but little to haul you up, so say no more about it,"

answered the tall midshipman. "I happened to be looking over the side, and caught a glimpse of your head as you were hanging on like a codfish just caught by a hook. Besides, I find you come from the far north, and we Scotchmen always help each other."

Ronald had detected a slight Scotch accent in his new friend.

"You must let me be grateful, at all events," he answered. "And you won't heave me overboard again when I tell you that I am not a Scotchman, but a Shetlander."

"I knew that when you began to speak," observed the tall midshipman; and they went on to talk about Shetland, and before long the latter had learned several particulars of Ronald's history.

"We must be friends for the future," he observed, as the master-at-arms appeared at the door of the berth, with the announcement that it was time to douse the glim, and the various members whose watch it was below hurried off to their hammocks with as little concern as if the ship lay snug at her anchors, instead of being exposed to the full fury of a heavy gale.

The frigate was kept thrashing at it, in the hopes that she might hold her own till the storm abated. The important result of the first lieutenant's constant care and attention to the fitting of the rigging was now fully exhibited. Not a strand of a rope parted, not a spar was sprung.

Ronald soon saw that the tall midshipman was a great favourite with Mr Lawrence, the rough diamond of a first lieutenant, nor was he surprised when he found that he was a lord, and yet the most attentive to his duty, and most eager to master all the details of his profession.

Lord Claymore, the tall midshipman, and Ronald soon became fast friends.

Ronald admired him especially for the good sense and judgment he displayed in conversation, and the coolness and courage he exhibited in danger.

The gale continued, and the frigate lay her course to cross the Atlantic.

"She has been making much lee-way," Ronald heard the master observe to the captain.

"We shall weather Cape Clear for all that," was the answer; "once free we may run before it with a flowing sheet to the banks of Newfoundland."

"Ay, if we are once free," muttered the master, who was not at all of the touch-and-go school.

On stood the frigate. It was night. The midshipmen who had been rescued from the fishing-boat were allowed, after their fatigues, to remain below without doing duty for some days. Ronald could not sleep.

This was very un-midshipmanlike; he knew that it was Claymore's watch on deck, and he thought he would take a turn with him. He dressed and went on deck; it was not a tempting night; it was still blowing very hard, and the frigate under close-reefed topsails was heeling to the breeze till her lee-ports were deeply submerged, while the spray in thick showers flew over her. Ronald soon found his tall friend.

"I like this," observed the latter with enthusiasm, rubbing his hands; "the wind is strong enough to blow every inch of canvas out of the bolt ropes, if it wasn't all good and new, or to send the masts over the side if they were not well stayed up. We have the land under our lee, and if anything was to go we should in all probability drive on to it. Now, just consider the satisfaction of knowing that everything is as strong and good as wood, iron, and hemp can be, and of feeling that one has contributed to that end. There isn't a block, or a spar, or a rope, that Jack Lawrence or I haven't overhauled. See the advantage. He sleeps as soundly as if we were in harbour, when most other first lieutenants would have been up and down fifty times to ascertain that all was going right, and not have slept a wink. Take a leaf out of his book, Morton--it's what I am doing, and intend continuing to do."

"Land on the lee-bow!" cried one of the looks-out forward.

Had any one been drowsy, that sound would have made them rouse up very rapidly. All eyes were directly turned towards the quarter indicated.

The clouds had broken away in that direction, and a gleam of light fell on the threatening headland. The officer of the watch sent a midshipman down to call the captain and master. They were on deck almost as soon as he was. The compa.s.s was consulted, and the bearing of the land taken. The master then went below to consult the chart. Claymore begged Morton to go and call the first lieutenant.

"We take things coolly aboard here, but he would not like to be below at this time, and would thank you for summoning him."

Mr Lawrence sprang on deck after Morton. A consultation was held; it was the general opinion that the land seen was Mizen Head, and that if there were light sufficient, Cape Clear would be seen on their quarter.

They might take shelter in Crook Haven; but under the uncertainty that the point seen was Mizen Head, the master refused to undertake the fearful responsibility. The determination to keep the sea was also more in accordance with the captain's inclinations.

"She has drifted to leeward more than I suspected; we must yet shake another reef out of the topsails," he observed. "What say you, master-- do you think she will bear it?"

"She must bear it," was the answer.

"She will bear it," said Jack Lawrence, positively.

The united strength of all the crew was required to perform the operation.

"All hands on deck!" shouted the boatswain, giving emphasis to the summons with his shrill whistle.

Directly the order was given one of the first aloft was Claymore; Morton followed him on to the main-yard; it was not his duty to go aloft, but he could not resist the impulse which made him do so. It was fearful work, holding on to that yard, up in the darkness, with the fierce gale howling round their heads and the ship pitching furiously, while at the same time she heeled down over the roaring seas. The word was given to let go; but before the sail could be sheeted home it shook and struggled, almost freeing itself from the st.u.r.dy crew who were hauling away on the sheet.

Morton felt as if he should be shaken off the yard, but a hand with a firm grasp held him, nor let him go till he had reached the top. They descended on deck.

"Thank you, Lord Claymore," said Morton, warmly; "had you not held me I might have lost my life."

"I don't say you would have deserved it," said the tall midshipman; "but why rush to a post of danger without necessity? stronger and older men are better fitted for the task you attempted. It was my duty, and I went. However, I like your spirit, Morton. If we weather this cape we shall know more of each other; if our masts go over the side, or we otherwise fail, we may none of us see another sunrise."

He spoke as coolly and calmly as if talking on some ordinary topic.