The History of Little Peter, the Ship Boy Part 3

The _Polly_ having received her cargo, again put to sea, bound, Peter heard, for the Thames.

Hitherto the weather had been fine, and he had escaped sea-sickness and wet clothes. A few nights after leaving the Tyne it came on to blow hard, with the wind right ahead, and the _Polly_ began to tumble about in a way which made Peter feel very miserable. Sometimes, though under close-reefed topsails, she heeled down so much that he could scarcely stand on the wet slippery deck, and he fancied that she would go over altogether. The dark green seas, with their foaming crests, rolled up on either hand, and frequently broke on board in showers of spray, as the brig ploughed her way amid them: now she rose to the top of a mountain billow; now she plunged down on the opposite side, with her bowsprit almost under water, and now the sea struck her and made her frame quiver fore and aft. The scene was a terrible one to look at--how different from that Peter had witnessed the first day he had been at sea!--still he did not fear; he knew that the same Almighty hand who guarded him then protected him now, but he did feel that he might at any moment be summoned into the presence of One he had loved on earth, and who would, he knew, welcome him in heaven, not on account of any merit of his own, but because he took Him at His word and trusted His Son, whom He had sent to save sinners.

The men, and even the captain and mate, were more silent than usual, though when they did speak they gave utterance to the same oaths which had so often issued out of their mouths.

It was trying work on deck, and when Peter's watch was over, wet and weary he was glad to go below; but when he lay down in his narrow berth, the fearful blows which struck again and again on the bows of the ship prevented him from sleeping. When he did at last drop off he was quickly aroused by another blow, heavier than the former, which made him fancy that the brig must have struck a rock; but on she again went, battling her way across the stormy ocean.

The gale was increasing. At night, when he had again to go on deck, the seas, though not so clearly visible as during the day, appeared much higher, and threatened every instant to roll down upon the deck and sweep every one off it. The fore-hatch was battened down, the crew collected aft. When day dawned their faces looked pale and anxious, and even Captain Hawkes and old Jim seemed to wish that the gale was over.

Peter heard the mate report to the captain that he had sounded the well, and feared that the brig had sprung a leak. The pumps were rigged, and the crew set to work on them. The quant.i.ty of clear water which came up left no doubt about the matter. The men grumbled and swore, but worked away. Peter was ordered to take his spell, and even old Jim and the captain took theirs. All day long they worked away, and at night also.

No fire could be lighted in the caboose, for the seas broke so heavily over the bows of the ship that they dashed in upon the fore-hatchway.

Such provisions as could be eaten without cooking were their only fare.

Peter wished to read the Bible to his shipmates, but the spray broke over them in such dense showers that the leaves would have been wetted through in an instant. He could recollect, however, many portions, and great was the comfort they gave him. When he ventured to repeat them aloud to those crouched down under the bulwarks near him, they told him to be silent; it was not the time, with a gale blowing, to trouble them with his notions.

"But where should we be if the brig does go down?" he asked, for he saw the too great probability of that event occurring to make him hesitate about speaking.

The men told him to hold his tongue and not trouble them. Numbers do the same when warned of danger not more imminent than that which threatened the brig's crew.

"Spell ho!" was the cry, and Peter and those he had spoken to took their places at the pumps.

Another day came to an end. During the next night the water gained so much on the pumps that Captain Hawkes resolved to head the brig in for the land in the hopes of making some sheltering port. Whereabouts he was he could not exactly tell. Again and again the well was sounded.

The night was pitchy dark, the wind blew harder than ever, and the foam-topped seas raged round the hapless brig. The men laboured at the pumps, the captain and mate working as hard as the rest, for they all knew that their lives depended on their exertions.

Hour after hour pa.s.sed by. Day was approaching. The captain thought that they must be nearing the land. The men at length cried out that they could work no more without food. Peter was sent down to get it.

He crept about in the dark searching in the lockers for what could be found. He felt the water above his knees, but he was so wet that he did not heed it; it was his duty to get the food, he would not return without it. He fancied that he heard loud cries and shouting on deck, though the howling and whistling of the wind and the roar of the sea almost drowned all other sounds. Presently he was sensible that the vessel had received a heavy blow. Another and another followed. He had found the food he was sent for, and was making his way with a heavy load up the companion ladder, when a sudden heave of the vessel threw it over him, and he fell to the bottom. He was stunned with the fall and lay insensible for awhile--how long he could not tell--but he recovered after some time, and the ladder being jerked back into its place, he scrambled up on deck. He saw no one. On looking over the side he discovered the boat, with the captain and crew, pulling away a few fathoms off. He shouted to them, entreating to be taken in. Old Jim cried out in return:

"We will come for you." But either they found it impossible to return, or feared that the boat would be stove in in making the attempt. Peter supposed truly that they had quitted the brig, believing that she would immediately sink. At that moment another sea struck her, and lifting her up, she once more glided on. Fearing that she would again ground, and that the next sea might sweep over her deck, he sprang to the main rigging and climbed up into the top. Scarcely had he left the deck when the water rushed completely over it. The brig, pressed by the sails still set, glided slowly on. Lower and lower she sank; as she did so, Peter climbed up to the topmast-head, and there he clung. He did his utmost to escape death, though he was prepared to meet it. He caught sight for a moment of the boat tossing amid the ma.s.s of foaming waters; when he again looked in the direction he had last seen her, she was nowhere visible.

In a little while he became conscious that the brig had ceased to sink.

In the east, towards where the faint streaks of returning day appeared in the sky, the sea tumbled and tossed as wildly as before, but where the masts of the brig rose above the surface the water was comparatively calm. The vessel had indeed driven first on the tail or extreme point of a bank, and then being forced over it, had drifted inside it some little distance before she had gone down, being then protected from the fury of the waves by the bank itself. All Peter knew, however, was that he was clinging to the mast-head of a sunken vessel, that a storm raged around him, and no human aid was at hand. He had no food, for he had lost that when thrown from the ladder, and it was some time since he had eaten; but he had saved his Bible, and he knew that his Father in heaven would take care of him.

CHAPTER FOUR.

ON BOARD THE PRIMROSE.

As day dawned Peter looked out for the boat, earnestly hoping that the captain and crew had escaped destruction. It was nowhere to be seen.

Here and there he caught sight of a dark sail just rising above the horizon, while in the west he could just distinguish a line of low coast.

How solitary and wretched he would have felt, how ready to give way to despair, had he not known that, all alone as he was, G.o.d his Father was watching over him.

He had thus clung on for some time to the mast, when he became aware that the wind had greatly moderated; the waves no longer clashed so savagely over the sand-bank as before. Gradually the sea became calmer and calmer; the clouds cleared away; the bright sun shone forth and dried his wet clothes. He felt hungry, but his strength did not desert him. He descended to the cross-trees, now above water, and seating himself, searched in his pocket and discovered two biscuits which he had put into them when in the cabin and had forgotten. He ate one of the biscuits and felt revived, and then finding that there was no danger of falling off, he drew forth his beloved Bible and read. How full of comfort and a.s.surance it was to him who read with an eye of faith!

There was no one to disturb him now. Alas! where were those who had been wont to interrupt him? What would they now have given to have trusted to that book, and obeyed its precepts? Peter did not, however, allow such a thought to enter his mind. He only hoped that they had escaped, and were making their way to the land; not a particle of bad feeling was in his heart against those who had so ill-treated him.

He read and read on till, feeling a drowsiness come over him, he restored the book to its case, and then once more climbed up the mast to look round in the hopes of seeing some vessel or boat approaching.

The sun had completely dried his clothes, and warmed him. A soft air blew off the land. He knew well that vessels would generally give the sands a wide berth. "Still, if G.o.d thinks fit to send me help He will direct some craft this way," he said to himself. "Perhaps some fishing-boats will be pa.s.sing, or Captain Hawkes may send out to learn what has become of the brig."

As he looked northward, he saw afar off a large ship under all sail standing to the south. Whether or not she was inside or outside the shoals he could not tell. She came on but slowly, for the wind was light. He judged, however, that she would not pa.s.s at any great distance from where he was. How beautiful she looked, with her spread of white canvas shining in the sun. Nearer and nearer she came. He was convinced at last that she was outside the shoals.

"Those on board will scarcely notice the thin masts of the brig above the water," he thought; "still G.o.d will turn their eyes this way if He thinks fit."

Let no one suppose, that little Peter placed a presumptuous confidence in G.o.d's protecting care of a young boy like himself. He had read that not a sparrow falls to the ground but He knows it; that the hairs of our heads are all numbered, and he well knew that he should be offending his kind Father if he doubted His words. What strength and fearlessness did this simple faith give him.

The proud ship glided on, her canvas swelling to the breeze; it seemed that she would quickly run past him. He could almost distinguish the people on her deck. He shouted, fancying that his feeble voice would be borne over the water towards her. Presently he saw the hitherto full canvas flap against the masts; her courses, and her topsails, and topgallant sails hung down uselessly; the breeze which had hitherto fanned his cheeks died away.

The ship was almost abreast of him, but rather to the southward, so that those on her deck saw the rays of the sun striking directly on the brig's masts. Without thinking of this, however, he took off his hat and waved it again and again. The ship appeared to be drifting in towards the bank. How eagerly he watched her. Presently he saw a boat lowered from her quarter; several people jumped in, and with rapid strokes pulled towards him. The tide had again risen, and scarcely a ripple was observed on the bank. The boat crossed it, and an encouraging cheer reached his ears; he waved his hat in return, and descending the rigging stood ready to step into the boat as soon as she came.

"Glad to rescue you, my lad," said the officer, who was steering. "How long have you been on the mast? What's become of your shipmates?"

"Since last night," answered Peter; "and I hope they have reached the sh.o.r.e in the boat."

"I should think if they have deserted you, you would wish rather that they had gone to the bottom as they deserve," said the officer.

"We should wish harm to no one, and do good to our enemies," answered Peter.

"Very good," said the officer, "though the other is most natural. But how were you left behind?"

"I was in the cabin getting up provisions for them, when, as the brig appeared to be going down, they, I suppose, shoved off in the boat and forgot me."

"Scoundrels! I can only hope their boat was swamped," exclaimed the officer. "But give way, lads; the ship is closer in to the bank than is altogether pleasant, and we shall have to tow her head off if the breeze does not spring up again."

The boat was quickly alongside, and Peter soon found himself on the deck of a ship larger than he had ever before seen. He looked round with astonishment and admiration. Every one was busy in lowering the boats to tow the ship away from the dangerous proximity to the bank. Peter was, therefore, for some time left alone. The breeze, however, soon again returning, filled the sails, and the boats were hoisted in.

The captain, a fine-looking young man, with a frank countenance, then called Peter aft, and put to him nearly the same questions the mate had asked.

"How came you to escape, my lad? You don't even look much the worse for your adventure."

"G.o.d took care of me, sir," answered Peter, simply.

The captain smiled. "Well, I suppose it's something to fancy that," he observed.

"But I know it, sir," said Peter firmly.

The captain cast a somewhat astonished glance at him. "Well, lad, you must be hungry and sleepy; the steward will give you some food, and find you a berth forward. If we have an opportunity, we will put you on sh.o.r.e, that you may return to your friends."

"I have no friends on sh.o.r.e, sir," answered Peter, "and I want to go to sea."

"Then do you wish to remain on board?" asked the captain.

"Yes, sir, please; I wish to visit foreign lands."

"Very well, you will have the chance with us, and I'll enter you as one of the ship's boys," said the captain. "Below there!" he shouted, and the steward, a black man, appeared. "Give this lad some food, and find him a berth, Emery," said the captain, in a good-natured tone. Turning aft he said to himself, "There is stuff in that lad, though he has evidently been brought up among the Methodists."

The black steward took Peter into his pantry, and having given him a good meal, pressing him to eat as much as he wanted, led him forward.

On the way he told him the ship was the _Primrose_, of 600 tons, bound out to the Mauritius, and that afterwards she was to visit other places in the Eastern Seas. Entering the seamen's berth, he pointed to one of the standing bed-places on the side, and told him he might turn in and go to sleep as long as he liked. Little Peter, who had never before seen a black man, and fancied that all such were savages, was much surprised to hear him speak English and address him in so kind a manner.