The Quest Of The 'Golden Hope' Part 27

"That is so," a.s.sented Captain Jeremy, after a prolonged examination through his gla.s.s. "A survivor of some wreck, I expect. Anyway, he'll be as dead as a marline-spike before we get alongside, if he remain like that, with the sun pouring on him."

"He's dead, right enough," said 'Enery, after a while. "'Tis the tossing of the boat that makes him move."

'Enery was right. Hanging over the gunwale, with one arm trailing in the water, was the corpse of a man. We could not see his face, but the nape of the neck was blackened from exposure to the sun. The arm moved sluggishly with every roll of the little craft, giving the corpse the appearance of being alive.

"Poor fellow! Starved to death, I take it," said Touchstone softly.

"I've seen that sort of thing before to-day. Shall we run alongside, sir?"

"Aye," replied Captain Jeremy. "We might just as well, in case we can do anything."

Silence fell upon the crew as the _Golden Hope_ crept slowly towards the floating monument of an ocean tragedy, till all at once the master gunner shouted:

"By Jove, that's one of our chests!"

We were now near enough to see over the gunwale as the boat rolled in the oily swell. Lashed amidships, 'twixt two of the thwarts, was one of the boxes we had made, ostensibly for the storing of the _Madre_ treasure. Then, like lightning, the truth flashed across my mind: I was gazing at the corpse of Ned Slater.

The chest told a silent tale. The villain must have begun loading the boat directly the _Neptune_ struck the reef; then, seeing that the ship was doomed, he sprang into the little craft, basely deserting his companions in crime. By some means the boat had escaped being swamped, and, offering little resistance to the wind, had been carried by the current in a northerly direction. When the gale died away, Slater must have prised open the lid of the chest to bloat over its contents, only to find a load of stones within.

Either through the fury of his baffled hopes, or through the stern necessity of lightening the little craft, he had hurled the valueless cargo overboard, for the chest was empty. Helpless, and blown far from land, the villain had died a horrible death from slow starvation.

Springing into the fore chains, 'Enery, with boat-hook in hand, caught at the gunwale of the boat as it slowly drifted alongside. He made a sign to a couple of seamen, who, understanding, brought a heavy shot wrapped up in a piece of canvas. Nimbly dropping into the boat, one of the men quickly fastened the weight to the body of the ill-fated wretch; then, staving a plank with an axe, he sprang back into our fore chains.

'Enery disengaged the boat-hook, and ere the _Golden Hope_ had drifted clear the boat sank beneath the waters of the Atlantic, and the body of my father's murderer disappeared from view till the time when the sea shall give up the dead that are in it.

I was glad that 'Enery had behaved thus. He had acted generously to the memory of a man who had done his best to raise his hand against every member of our crew. The rogue had paid the penalty and had received his deserts, though in my calmer moments I rejoiced that he had not met his death at my hands.

Soon after this gruesome incident we picked up a steady breeze that enabled us to make rapid progress, and seven days after leaving Treasure Island we crossed the Tropic of Cancer.

It was all plain sailing till we were within a few hundred miles of the Bermudas, when a heavy gale caused the main topmast of the _Golden Hope_ to spring.

In this crippled condition the brig crawled into the harbour on whose sh.o.r.es the princ.i.p.al settlements are built, but ere we could effect repairs an awful hurricane, the worst I have ever met, or hope to meet, burst over the islands.

The storm came on quite suddenly, and almost before we had time to strike our still-standing fore-topmast, and veer out all our cable.

Even in the comparatively sheltered harbour where we lay the sea was churned into a seething cauldron of foam, whilst ash.o.r.e the damage was terrific. The lightly built huts of the settlers were unroofed and most of the trees blown down; and so great was the havoc wrought that 'twas a matter of difficulty to get our damaged topmast repaired till nearly six weeks after the storm.

While lying in harbour we learnt from an outward bound West Indiaman that things at home were in a very unsettled state, for almost all men were dissatisfied with King James.

Yet--so suspicious had Englishmen become of each other--we could gather no definite information, though many hints were thrown out concerning what we might expect to find on our arrival at home.

At length, on the second day of October, 1688, we weighed and set sail on the last stage of our homeward voyage, and late on the forenoon of the following day the last of the low-lying Bermudas was lost to view.

During the next three weeks nothing untoward occurred. The _Golden Hope_ pursued her course over a seemingly boundless ocean, with never a sail to break the skyline, till, when, according to our reckoning, we were within ninety miles of Land's End, I was aroused just after midnight by the shout:

"A light on the starboard bow."

Gleaming faintly through the darkness, I could distinguish a small column of flame, apparently ten miles away, which faded and waxed stronger at close intervals.

"What d'ye make of it, sir?" asked 'Enery, as he and Captain Jeremy mounted the p.o.o.p ladder to get a better view of the mysterious light.

"Make of it? Why, it can be but one thing. 'Tis a ship on fire."

CHAPTER x.x.xI

The Burning Ship

Within an hour or so we had approached sufficiently near to the conflagration to prove the truth of Captain Jeremy's a.s.sertion.

It was a large vessel burning from bow to stern, the flames mounting to a tremendous height and casting a lurid glow on a thick column of smoke that blew miles to leeward. The masts and spars of the ship were still standing, though licked by the devouring fire, while her double line of ports shone like a line of gigantic glow-worms.

Even at the distance we were from her we could hear the crackling of the burning woodwork, and the subdued roar of the flames as they issued from the bowels of that floating inferno.

"Near enough!" exclaimed Captain Jeremy. "'Twill not do to get to leeward of her. Heave-to and lower away a boat; we may be able to render a.s.sistance, though I fear 'tis too late."

These orders were promptly carried out, and the _Golden Hope_ was brought-to at about three-quarters of a mile from the burning ship.

'Enery, with a willing crew, took one of the quarter-boats and rowed boldly towards the vessel, while lanterns were hung on our rigging and guns were fired at frequent intervals to attract the attention of any boat-load of survivors that might have managed to effect an escape.

Spellbound, I, with the rest of our remaining crew, watched the conquering progress of the devouring element. Yard after yard came crashing down from aloft, the blazing timber plunging into the sea with a loud hiss as the flames were extinguished in the water. The tarred and hempen shrouds, long since severed at the deadeyes, were dangling like fiery serpents from the swaying masts; while ever and anon the shotted guns of her broadside would discharge their dangerous contents, the b.a.l.l.s ricochetting on the surface of the sea with a series of fountain-like jets. Some of the shots pa.s.sed unpleasantly close to the _Golden Hope_, and orders were given to forge ahead till we were well in line with the stern of the burning ship, where, being still to windward, we were in no danger.

Meanwhile we could perceive 'Enery and his men pulling slowly round the ship at a respectful distance, the shot whizzing well over their heads; and though the mate was to be seen standing up in the stern sheets and carefully examining whatever floating piece of wreckage they came across, we knew that none of the unfortunate crew had been taken into the boat. If still alive, where were they?

The roar of our ordnance, fired at regular intervals, added to the din; yet this signal seemed useless, for no strange craft was to be seen rowing for the shelter offered by the _Golden Hope_.

Suddenly, with a loud crash, the foremast of the vessel went by the board, and lay, still burning fiercely, across the fo'c'sle. The mainmast soon followed, but, falling clear of the ship, it drifted close alongside, the damp timber still emitting a dense cloud of smoke.

By now the vessel had burned almost to the water's edge amidships, and crash after crash could be heard as the guns plunged through the burning planks into the hold. The fo'c'sle and p.o.o.p still reared themselves high above the sea, the latter surmounted by a pillar of fire that encircled the mizen-mast.

Suddenly the dazzling glare of the flames was eclipsed by a flash so brilliant that I was obliged to close my eyes to shut out its brightness. Then came the deafening roar of an explosion, and opening my eyes, I saw the air filled with flying pieces of shattered timber. The magazine had taken fire.

Almost immediately the fire was extinguished; a thick cloud of smoke hovered over the spot where the ship had been, while aloft a thousand fitful streaks of light marked the downward course of the burning timbers that had been shot up to an immense height.

For a full half minute the meteor-like flight continued, till the hiss of the last of the burning timbers ceased and a great darkness, intensified by the sudden cessation of the glare, overspread the agitated sea.

We were now considerably concerned for the safety of 'Enery and the boat's crew, for they were exposed to a great danger from the falling wreckage, till the gleam of the boat's lantern showed that they were at least still afloat.

At length the men rowed back to the brig, having sustained no damage, though their faces were blackened with the smoke and particles of dust that enveloped everything within half a mile of the burning vessel.

"No sign of anyone," reported 'Enery, as he came over the side, "though they may have taken to the boats long before we arrived."

"That's true," a.s.sented Captain Jeremy, "so keep the signal guns firing till dawn."

"'Tis well that there's no sea running," said the mate. "A few hours in an open boat will do no harm on a night like this, e'en though the air is sharp."

"Not if we pick them up," added Captain Jeremy; "but I should not wonder if they have already shaped a course for land. Yet do you keep the brig hove-to till daylight."

The day broke with a red, angry sky that betokened foul weather. The wind, hitherto light, began to strengthen, and an ominous swell presaged rough water within a few miles of us.