The Ruined Cities of Zululand Part 23

"We will stand on until we make the coast of Madagascar, Blount; we must have made a good deal of southing, there are no islands between us and the coast, except 'Barren Islands,' and they lie far away to the northward."

"How's her head now, Jones?" asked the mate.

"South-east and by south, sir," replied the man at the wheel.

"Then we shall fetch Cape Saint Vincent on the Madagascar coast; and it will have been a long leg."

It was a grand sight as the little "Halcyon" struggled through the chaos of water. The change in the wind, slight as it was, had greatly aided her, but the gale was gradually increasing. Overhead the heavy clouds were flying before its fury, the long waves being an angry green, white with foam. Far as the eye could reach, one sheet of tumbling water was to be seen, bounded only by the horizon. No sail, not even a solitary gull was in sight, and through this the "Halcyon" was straggling, now rising on the foam, now falling into the bright green trough, as she dragged her way onward through the seething ocean, under her single-reefed topsails, foresail, fore-topmast-staysail, and boom-mainsail.

On swept the little brig, but the gale increased in its fury after sunrise. Towards twelve o'clock, the Senhora Isabel appeared on the quarter-deck, whither she had been conducted by the first-mate. The men of the watch lay close under the weather bulwarks, seeking what shelter they could find. A good many teaspoonfuls of salt foam came dashing on board the brig now, and even the captain was forced to allow it, as he held on by the weather main-shrouds, and looked keenly to windward.

"What a magnificent spectacle!" exclaimed Isabel, as she gazed on the seething ocean.

"At all events we are better here than riding with both anchors down at Quillimane," replied the mate.

A report like the boom of a heavy gun was heard above the gale, and the foresail was seen flying away to leeward, blown to ribbons. A heavier blast weighed down upon the struggling brig, and before a word could be spoken, the bolts of the futtock shrouds, drawing one after another, with a splintering crash down came the fore-topmast with all its rigging and hamper, dragging with it the main-topgallant mast, and carrying away the jib-boom, the whole ma.s.s falling bodily over the side.

In an instant the watch were on their legs, and the remainder of the crew poured on deck, speedily followed by the alarmed pa.s.sengers.

The captain stood for a moment surveying the wreck, and then with the true spirit of an old salt, accepted the situation.

"Keep her away," he shouted to the two men at the wheel; "let her go free. Steady, my lads! Out axes and cut away the wreck. Pa.s.s the word below for the sail-maker to send up a new foresail."

The wreck of the masts was now dragging under the brig's lee, thumping heavily against her sides. Quick as thought the first-mate sprung forward, and, seizing an axe, began cutting away the ropes which kept the spars dragging after the ship. Holding on by the shrouds, the bright steel did its work, and no longer close hauled, but running free, the brig's motion seemed much easier. Already a portion of the wreck was floating astern, a few ropes alone held the rest, and one by one they were severed, when a monster wave came rolling on towards the brig.

The captain's warning voice was heard far above the roar of the winds and waves, shouting to all to hold on. The mate alone did not hear him, as he raised his axe to sever the last rope. The blow fell, but at the same moment the brig plunged her bows into the green wave. Striking her on the counter, the vessel seemed to tremble and to pause in her career, as the green water curled over her bows and bulwarks, in one ma.s.s of white foam, falling in tons upon her deck, and rolling away to leeward, poured out of her scuppers. The little brig seemed pressed down into the ocean by the enormous weight of water, and as the wave rolled aft, there, battling with the foam, was the form of the gallant mate. Swept from his hold, the white face rose on the wave close to the brig, and Isabel screamed with horror as the helpless man, tossed about, like a cork and apparently not a yard from them, came surging along, the lips parting, and the words, "Save me! save me!" distinctly borne on the wind.

Quick as thought, Captain Weber caught up a coil of rope; his arm was in the act of casting it, when the ma.s.s of spars and cordage swept past.

The coil whistled through the air, it fell right over the mate's shoulder, he clutched at it as the fore-topmast crosstrees, with the full force of the surge, struck him from behind, and he sank like a stone.

A cry of terror ran through the brig, all for a moment forgetting their own danger in the horror of the scene.

"Silence, fore and aft," shouted the old captain, his grey hairs streaming in the wind. "Heave the brig to, Mr Lowe. This is no place for you, lady; let the steward lead you below. All danger is over."

"Land ho!" shouted one of the men forward, as Isabel disappeared down the hatchway.

"Where away?" asked the master.

"Broad on the port bow," was the answering shout.

"It is the high land of Cape Saint Vincent," said Captain Weber, shading his eyes, and gazing intently in the direction named.

The wind was increasing in violence, and the barometer in the captain's cabin still falling. The brig had been kept away, and was now running free, but the gale was increasing rapidly.

"See that the fore and main-staysails are properly bent," called the captain.

"Ay, ay, sir," came the ready response, as his officer stepped hastily forward.

It is always a ticklish thing to heave a vessel to when there is a heavy sea running. The brig's sails were reduced until she was stripped to her close-reefed main-topsails, her fore-staysail was then set, and the two officers exchanged places, the old captain sprang forward, and holding on by the weather fore-shrouds, gazed wistfully over the ocean, while his mate stood near the man-at-wheel, waiting the coming order.

Sea after sea struck her, dashing the glittering spray high into the air, and wetting the veteran sailor to the skin, as he stood anxiously gazing over the ocean. At length a moment came when the long waves seemed less heavy. Captain Weber seized it, and a motion of the hand was enough.

"Down with the helm, Adams, hard down," shouted the watchful mate.

The brig flew up to the wind. "Set the main-staysail!" was the order thundered from the quarter-deck, and steadily executed by the trained seaman, the brig being soon hove-to under her main-topsail, fore and main-staysails, making comparatively good weather of it, and everything seemed to settle down into its usual order on board the little craft.

"He was a gallant fellow, and would have made a thorough seaman," said Captain Weber, as he joined the party below, dashing the salt foam from his eyes and hair as he spoke. "He loved the sea, and left a quiet home to find a grave here in the Indian Ocean." Isabel seemed violently affected by the scene which had pa.s.sed before her eyes.

"His was a sailor's death, it may be ours to-morrow," continued the captain. "Poor Blount! he was to have had command of one of his father's ships next voyage."

"What do you think of the weather, Captain Weber?" asked Hughes, wishing to change the theme, for Isabel was sobbing convulsively, as the thought of the sorrowing parents came vividly before her.

"These blows seldom hold long, from the fact of their extreme violence.

Should it last we shall be jammed down on the Madagascar coast: indeed, we cannot be far from it, for the land hereaway is low, or we should have sighted it at daylight."

"Shall we feel the loss of our spars much?" inquired Wyzinski.

"Not so much while lying to; but our wings are nicely clipped. The 'Halcyon' has been at sea, trading on this coast, for nearly three years, without ever having the advantage of a good overhaul, or such an accident could never have happened."

During the whole day, however, the gale continued unabated, and the dinner table was a neglected one by all save the captain. The party had been so lately at sea, as to escape all sufferings from sea-sickness, but the roar of the waves, the rattling of the ropes and blocks, the howling of the wind, and the many noises incidental to a gale, prevented, in a certain measure, even conversation. Every now and then a ma.s.s of water would tumble inboard with a loud thud, as it deluged the brig's decks and washed away to leeward. The staysails, too, as the vessel fell into the deep trough of the angry waves, would flap with a report like distant thunder; in a word, all the discomforts of a heavy gale in a small vessel were making themselves felt.

Night had again set in, and in the cabin Dom Maxara sat, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, as though asleep, while his daughter, lying on a sofa, covered with shawls, was endeavouring to read. It was nearly midnight, but no one thought of retiring. At the table, close under a lamp, which was waving wildly to and fro, the captain was seated, intently studying a government map, while Wyzinski leaned over his shoulders in earnest conversation.

"There," said Captain Weber, as he placed a pin in the chart, "there is just where the brig is."

"And yet it was only this morning land was sighted," observed the other.

"There exist strong currents, which have set us bodily to leeward; the wind, too, has more westing in it, and is driving us down on the land.

It is but a question of time."

"If the wind has drawn more to the westward, could we not hold our course!"

"As I said some time since, the brig has been three years at sea without an overhaul. If you had asked me the same question this morning, I should have expressed every confidence in her powers, but you saw yourself the sticks go over the side like rotten carrots, and I should have to carry every rag we could set to claw off this sh.o.r.e, for I don't want to scud before the gale if it can be avoided."

"Many years ago," said Wyzinski, "I was one of a party of missionaries who sailed from Delagoa Bay with the intention of forming a mission on the island of Madagascar. The small vessel which carried us was commanded by a man who had traded with the natives, and who knew the coast well. He ran into a beautiful bay, all but land-locked, where we anch.o.r.ed, and remained for nearly a month."

"What course did you steer after leaving Delagoa Bay--can you remember?"

Wyzinski was silent, evidently trying to recall long-past events, while Isabel had let her book fall on to the sofa by her side, and, with her limited stock of English, was evidently trying to catch the meaning of the conversation. Above all came the wild roar of the waves' boiling around them, the groaning and creaking of the ship's timbers, and the boom of the fore-staysail as it shook in the wind.

"Our course lay north-east and by north," at length said Wyzinski, his thoughtful face raised to the lamp, "for the first twenty-four hours."

"Good," answered Captain Weber, ruling off the course on the chart.

"There, that would carry you to somewhere about the lat.i.tude of Cape Correnti, and then?"

"It is almost impossible for me to remember," replied the missionary; "but to the best of my recollection it was east north-east."

The old captain bent over the chart, once more using the pencil and ruler.