The Heir of Kilfinnan Part 20

"She would not stay if we were to attempt to go about," observed the first lieutenant, "and there is no room to wear, or it might be better if we were upon the other tack, so as to escape yonder threatening reef."

"We may possibly weather the reef," observed the master; "but if we were to attempt either to stay or to wear, we should inevitably be driven upon the rocks."

Several of the best hands were at the helm, watching for the directions of the master. Sometimes, after a slight shift in the wind, hopes were entertained that the reef might be escaped; but then, again, it was found she was making so much leeway that even this slight hope was abandoned. Onward she rushed to her inevitable destruction, it seemed.

Meantime, the wounded commander had been lying in his cot. Several times he had desired to be carried on deck, but the surgeon, who sat by his side, entreated him to stop where he was, fearing the excitement would be too great, and that his wounds, which had hitherto been going on favourably, might take a turn for the worse.

"Then send the master to me," he said, "that I may learn the exact position of the ship."

The master made his appearance.

"I wish she was in a better position than she is, sir," he observed; "but we are doing all that men can do to claw off sh.o.r.e, and if we had had our topmasts, there would have been no difficulty about the matter.

She makes fearful leeway, and there is an ugly reef ahead, which I do not altogether like; but I have been in as bad a case before and escaped, and I pray Heaven we may get clear this time."

"Doctor, you must let me go on deck, that I may see the worst. It is torture to lie here below," exclaimed the wounded captain.

"But the master says, sir, that we have a prospect of hauling off sh.o.r.e, and I again repeat that you would only incur great danger by exposing yourself to the cold wind and spray that you would have to encounter.

No, no, sir; stay where you are, and let us hope for the best."

Many more anxious minutes pa.s.sed. The master returned to his duty on deck, and the captain, having full confidence in his judgment, would not again send for him.

"Come, doctor, there are many poor fellows want your aid besides me; go and look after them, I entreat you," he said at length. "They will give me notice in time enough when all hope is gone, or, I trust, I may soon hear that the ship has weathered the reef, and has brought up in the bay."

Scarcely had he spoken when a loud roar of breakers reached even to where he lay. A cry arose on deck, and the next instant there came a fearful crash. The frigate had struck on the reef. The captain was endeavouring to rise from his cot, when Davis rushed into the cabin.

"It is a bad case, captain!" he exclaimed; "but while I have life, you know I will stay by you. We are not far from the sh.o.r.e, and maybe, if the ship goes to pieces, some plank or timber may carry us there in safety."

Denham allowed himself to be carried on deck, where Davis secured him to the only portion of the wreck over which the sea did not break. The captain gazed around. The ship had struck upon the much-dreaded reef.

Huge seas came rolling in, and, dashing against her with terrific force, had already begun to tear away her upper works, and it was evident she could not long remain in that position without going speedily to pieces.

Many of the crew had already been washed away; others were clinging to different parts of the wreck. Some, including the officers, were endeavouring, not far from the captain, to form a raft, on which they hoped to reach the sh.o.r.e. It appeared, however, very doubtful whether they would succeed.

"Let us chance it, sir," said Davis; "I will haul a grating here, and put you on it. Maybe, we shall be safely washed on sh.o.r.e."

"No, no, Davis," answered the captain faintly; "you remember how the brave Dutchman behaved when his ship was sinking. As long as two planks hold together I will stay by the frigate, or till every one has left her. You go, my friend; you are strong and unhurt, and, G.o.d protecting you, you may still save your own life."

"What? leave you, sir? leave you, Captain Denham?" exclaimed Davis. "I have not sailed with you for so many years to act thus at last. We swim or sink together. I have never feared death, and he is not now going to make me do a cowardly act."

"Well, well, Davis, I fear there is no use urging you. Perhaps, too, we run as little risk here as we should struggling in those boiling seas,"

said the captain.

"Right, sir; the frigate is new and strong, and maybe, she will hold together until the gale somewhat abates," answered the boatswain. "I wish those poor fellows would stay on board with us; it might be the better for them."

"I would not order them to stay, Davis," answered the captain. "These seas, if they continue long, must break up the stoutest ship, and it is a fearful thing to have to struggle among floating timbers, washed about round such rocks as these."

While they were speaking, many of the crew, clinging to spars and planks, were seen drifting towards the sh.o.r.e. Few, however, appeared to reach it. Some, exhausted by their exertions, let go their hold and sank. Others were cast upon the reef, mangled fearfully by the timbers which were thrown upon them. The rest, meantime, continued to work at the raft. The surviving officers then came to the captain, and urged him to allow them to place him upon it, but he remained firm to his resolution.

"No, no," he answered; "do you leave the ship as you think best; but she was placed under my command, and nothing shall induce me to desert her as long as she holds together."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

Mr Finlayson and the two young ladies stood watching the progress of the labouring frigate.

"Heaven have mercy on them," exclaimed the Widow O'Neil, extending her clasped hands towards the ship. "See, see, she draws towards the reef!

No hope! no hope! She has struck! she has struck!"

The fishwife spoke but too truly. Fearful seas came rolling in, and, meeting with an opposition not hitherto encountered, dashed in huge ma.s.ses directly over her. In another instant, the foremast, hitherto standing, tottered and fell. Stout as were her timbers, unable to resist such fierce a.s.saults, they were in a brief s.p.a.ce burst asunder, and scattered around in the troubled sea. A cry of horror escaped the young ladies as they witnessed the fearful catastrophe.

"Oh, how many brave men are at this moment carried into a watery grave!"

exclaimed Lady Sophy.

Nora was silent. A fearful apprehension seized her.

"The last time we heard from Captain Denham, he told us that he was appointed to a frigate!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Oh, suppose that is the ship he commands?"

"Can no one go to the help of those poor men?" asked Mr Finlayson.

"Surely there are boats on the coast which might go off to them!"

The fishwife turned as he spoke.

"There are boats, sir, but it would be hard to find the men who would venture off in such a sea as that; but if, as I believe, the wind is falling, there is yet some hope; if it goes down as rapidly as it sometimes does in summer, frail as are our boats, we may be able to reach the frigate."

The ship was too far off for those on sh.o.r.e to witness the dying struggles of those who were washed into the sea, but yet they could not tear themselves from the spot. Gradually the gale abated, seemingly contented with the mischief it had caused. Still, however, the seas rolled in with fearful force. Suddenly, a thought seemed to seize Widow O'Neil.

"I must go, I must go!" she exclaimed. "If no men are to be found, I, at least, will go off!"

"Why, you would not venture out in such a sea as that?" cried Mr Finlayson, calling after her as she began to descend the cliffs.

"That I will, sir, and go alone if no men will accompany me."

From the position of the coast in which the cottage was situated, it was easy to launch a boat, although the sea was agitated outside. On reaching her hut, the widow found her brother Shane standing outside it.

"Shane," she exclaimed, "you promised to stand by me on all occasions, now prove your words. I am resolved to go out to yonder vessel; there may be some alive on board. My heart tells me there are, and we must save them. O stir up some of the other men, and bid them follow us, if they are worthy of the name of men."

"I would go with you, sister," answered Shane, "if I could get others to go, but they will not raise a finger to save any on board a king's ship."

"But sure, they are our fellow-creatures, brother Shane," exclaimed the fishwife. "Shame on the cowards if they dare not come, and shame on you, brother, if you will not help me. Listen now; I dreamed last night that he who has been so long away is coming back. It is not the first time I have dreamed it either, and you may say if you will, that this is only another fancy, but my days are numbered, and I know that before I die he will come back; he promised, and Dermot was not the boy to break his word. Come, Shane, come. Look, the sea has gone down, and you and I with your boy Patrick, though he may have less sense than other lads, will go off to the ship."

The widow's exhortations made Shane promise to accompany her. Her boat was ill-fitted for the task, yet for some distance they could pull out under shelter of a point which projected north of the cove. As the wind had hauled round somewhat more to the north also, it might be possible to set a sail, and with less difficulty reach the frigate. Patrick was summoned, and with his father and the fishwife, the boat was launched.

She was cleared of all superfluous lumber, while Shane lashed under her thwarts several empty casks, which would a.s.sist in giving her buoyancy.

It was a simple attempt at a life-boat, yet with all these precautions, the old fishing craft was but ill-fitted for the undertaking. The fishwife again and again urged her brother to hasten his work, so eager was she to reach the wreck. At length the boat was ready. The boy was placed at the helm, and the fishwife and her brother took the oars.

They pulled boldly out of the cove, and then along the sh.o.r.e for some distance, where the water was rather smoother than further out. Even there, however, the exertion was considerable, and those who looked on from above dreaded every moment to see the frail skiff overturned by the rough seas. Now, however, the head of the boat was turned seaward.

Shane and his sister increased their exertions. Often the waters broke on board, when Patrick, steering with one hand, bailed it out with the other; still they continued their course. At length they succeeded in gaining a considerable distance from the sh.o.r.e, when the seas, as is sometimes the case, came with less force, and gradually sank in height.

There was only one point where they could approach the wreck. Just within sight was a small bay, or opening in the reef; the seas on every other side were dashing over the frigate, and would have immediately overwhelmed the frail boat. Bravely they rowed on, and they might have put to shame many of the st.u.r.dy men who had collected on the sh.o.r.e.

Several times those who watched the progress of the boat from the cliff fancied she was overwhelmed. Now she sank into the trough of the sea, and the huge wave seemed about to dash over her. Again rising to the summit of a foam-crested wave, she was tossed for a few seconds ere she plunged into the watery vale below. More than once Shane proposed setting a sail, but the widow declared that her arms were still strong enough to pull the boat, and that it would considerably prolong the time before they could reach the wreck, as it would thus be impossible to make a straight course. She seemed, indeed, endued with super-human strength, for even her brother's arms began to fail him. Again and again she urged him to renewed exertions, with a voice tremulous with eagerness.

"We shall reach the ship before long--we shall reach the ship," she kept exclaiming; "row, Shane, row. Oh, brother, if you have ever loved me, do not fail me now."