The Ruined Cities of Zululand Part 24

"That would bring you within a short distance of Saint Augustine's Bay, as it is marked in this chart," said he, looking upwards at Wyzinski.

"That's it! That's the name we gave it, because the vessel was called the 'Saint Augustine!'" exclaimed the missionary.

"Can you give me any particulars about the entrance to the harbour?"

"None: we ran straight in and straight out. There are two clumps of trees to the right on the spit of land which sweeps into the sea, forming a natural breakwater."

"To starboard or port?" asked Weber.

"On the right as we ran in, and the vessel pa.s.sed so close to the bluff on which they stood that I could have thrown a piece of money on sh.o.r.e."

"What tonnage was the 'Saint Augustine'? Hitherto you have called her only a vessel."

"She was a schooner of about one hundred and fifty tons," answered Wyzinski; "and that is all I can tell you about the matter, which is a very melancholy one for me, as I lost a dear friend."

"Killed by the natives, I suppose? Ay, ay, they are a bad lot; but I have a couple of guns on board, and I don't fear them. If the harbour is what you represent it, we should lie there on an even keel, and in forty-eight hours I could rig out a jury fore-topmast."

The captain rose, and turned to Isabel before he placed on his head the heavy sou'-wester. "We will have you in smooth water before this time to-morrow, my little lady," he said, as he turned.

Isabel smiled, and looked to the missionary for an explanation.

Drawing a stool to the side of the sofa, for standing was no easy matter, so violently did the brig pitch, he explained to her exactly what had pa.s.sed.

"Oh dear, how glad I shall be!" she answered. "The noise and confusion wear one out. I have often wished to witness a severe storm at sea, but I shall never wish it again."

"I have been in many, but only one when the wind was more violent than this. Fourteen vessels, large and small, were sunk in Table Bay on that occasion."

"Did I understand you rightly that you have landed on the Madagascar coast?"

"Yes," replied Wyzinski; "but it is a sad tale of cruelty and death."

"Would it pain you to tell it me?" asked Isabel, in her low sweet tones, turning her dark eyes on the missionary's face, and laying her hand on his arm.

"When we lie in Saint Augustine's Bay, and I can make myself heard better than at present, I will do so. Try to sleep now," answered the missionary, rising. "I am going on deck to join Captain Hughes, and shall be very glad when morning dawns."

And it did dawn, slowly and faintly over the boiling ocean. Large ma.s.ses of dark cloud were hurrying over the sky, and chasing one another as though in sport. To seaward the horizon was clear, and one ma.s.s of foam-tipped waves were to be marked far as the eye could reach. Not ten miles to leeward lay the long line of the Madagascar coast, with Cape Saint Vincent jutting into the sea, while, with the wind blowing a heavy gale from the west-south-west, the "Halcyon," with her diminished sail, her foremast, main-topmast, and bowsprit standing, looked terribly shorn of her fair proportions. The waves every now and then poured on her decks, rolling away to leeward, and the ropes were here and there flying loose, and streaming in the wind. A strong current must have set the brig down bodily on to the land, and Captain Weber had made up his mind to run for the bay which the missionary had spoken of.

On the quarter-deck, holding on to windward, stood a group of three.

Captain Weber, the missionary, and Hughes had watched through the night, and were anxiously waiting for full daylight. Under the weather bulwarks, wrapped in their waterproofs, with their long thick boots poking out here and there, lay huddled the crew.

"There," said the captain, pointing to a fine bold headland just tinged by the beams of the rising sun as it shone through a break in the clouds, "that is Cape Saint Vincent. The land tumbles in board to the southward and eastward, and your two clumps of trees will guide us.

Will you know the place again?"

"Everything connected with it is so stamped on my memory, that I could draw the bay for you."

"Very well, here goes. Mr Lowe, rouse up the watch, send four men to the wheel, set the foresail."

Mr Lowe, though second mate, now naturally took the place of the drowned seaman. The yards, instead of being braced sharp up, were eased off, the helm carefully tended, and under her main-topsail, foresail, and fore-topmast-staysail, the "Halcyon," on an easy bowline, dragged like a wounded sea-bird through the boiling waves, running parallel with the coast. Hour after hour wore on, and all watched anxiously. The long sandy line was now not more than five miles distant, and the tall cocoa-nut trees could be seen plainly.

Now and then the sun would break out and light up the scene, but hour after hour pa.s.sed on, and still the gale blew furiously, while the sea, striking the brig's counter, poured over her fore and aft. No one quitted the deck, but now and then the captain's steward, a Malay, popped up his head with some inquiry from below. "Tell them we shall soon be in smooth water," shouted Captain Weber, as towards ten o'clock the man's face appeared through the little opening.

The brig was rapidly approaching a bold headland, which bore no name on the map. She would pa.s.s it at a distance of not more than a mile. The chart was nailed down on the wood-work of the cabin hatchway, and was continually consulted by both the missionary and the captain.

"I know that headland," shouted the former, placing his mouth close to the captain's ear. "The bay lies about five miles to the southward of it."

Slowly the brig crept up with the nameless cape. She neared it; she was abeam, and now it lay abaft her beam, but the land once more curved inward, and the cliffs seemed scarped down to the sea. Seizing a telescope, and steadying himself by the hatchway, Wyzinski looked eagerly in the direction of land.

"There," he said, "at last," handing the instrument to the captain.

"Yonder is the bay, and there stand the two clumps of cocoa-nut trees."

Captain Weber looked long and eagerly. To the southward the land trended seaward, a lofty headland being visible. The "Halcyon" was embayed; for in her crippled state to weather that cape with such a gale blowing was impossible, and to anchor with that furious sea breaking on a lee sh.o.r.e would be sure destruction. Saint Augustine's Bay was their only chance now. The crippled brig dragged slowly along.

"Now, sir," shouted Captain Weber, addressing the missionary, "come with me. Mr Lowe, send two men to lash us in the starboard fore-shrouds; take up your position here on the break of the quarter-deck; let the men be stationed under the weather bulwarks. See the best bower clear."

Cautioning the men at the wheel, the captain moved forward, followed by the missionary, under the shelter of the bulwarks. It was a task of no small difficulty to secure the two men in the fore-shrouds, the salt brine pouring over the whole party over and over again.

"Starboard," shouted the captain. "Ease away the fore-sheets; let fly the main-topsail; haul down the fore-staysail." The second mate gave the necessary orders; the main-topsail yard settled down upon the cap; the fore-staysail sheets were let fly, and the sail flapping heavily was hauled down and secured. The rattle of the clue garnets was heard as the foresail was nearly squared, and the brig's head payed off from the wind.

It was a moment of great anxiety, for as she fell off the seas struck her broadside on, but Captain Weber had watched his time. One huge toppling wave came rushing onwards. "Hold on," shouted the captain; as striking the brig's bulwarks it stove them in, smashing the gig, and pouring into the waist of the vessel, hid her for a moment under the white foam. The buoyant craft rose, turning her stern to the waves, and feeling the full force of the foresail, dashed along straight for the sh.o.r.e. "Steady, so; starboard a little; steady," shouted the captain, as with the trumpet in his right hand, he held on with a seaman's grip to the shrouds. His cap had blown away to leeward, and his long grey hair was streaming on the wind, both he and the missionary having been buried under the boiling foam, as the "Halcyon" wore round.

The sharp jerking motion of the previous day was now exchanged for one much easier. Rising on the wave, the brig felt the full force of the gale, and seemed about to leave her native element, as the broad sheet of stout canva.s.s tore her along, to sink the next moment in the deep trough, the canva.s.s shaking, and astern, a mighty wave curling, and tipped with white foam, about to break on her deck, but to glide away under her keel, as she drove madly on for land, where not half a mile ahead lay the narrow opening to Saint Augustine's Bay.

"Keep close to the bluff crowned by the cocoa-nuts," shouted Wyzinski, as the brig, sinking in the trough, yawed wildly to port. Onward drove the "Halcyon." She entered the outlet; one wild roll on the surging wave, and her fore-yard seemed to touch the bare rock; the next she ran into a n.o.ble and nearly land-locked bay. "Port your helm; hard a-port,"

shouted the captain. "See the anchor clear." A dozen men swarmed on the forecastle. "Brail up the foresail;" and the clue garnets rattled as the sail was quickly furled. The brig giving a broad sheer came sweeping round, gradually lost her way; then feeling the wind aloft, gathered sternway. "Let go the anchor," shouted Captain Weber. "Let go the anchor!" roared Mr Lowe, from his post on the quarter-deck. A heavy splash followed, and the next moment the "Halcyon," her starboard bulwarks gone for a length of two yards abaft, the forechains, the remains of her gig swinging at the davits, her fore-topmast and jib-boom gone, her foremast, main, and main-topmasts only standing, her first-mate lying hundreds of fathoms deep in the salt sea, rode on an even keel by a single anchor in Saint Augustine's Bay, the gale roaring, and the dark ma.s.ses of clouds flying over head.

Volume 2, Chapter III.

SAINT AUGUSTINE'S BAY.--THE MISSIONARY'S TALE.

By sunrise the following morning the gale had pretty nearly blown itself out. The heavy ma.s.ses of clouds had rolled away, and a bright sun was shining on the smooth water of the bay. Outside, the ocean was still boiling and seething under the influence of the late heavy gale, but the waves, though tipped with foam, were rolling sluggishly, as if tired with their wild efforts.

The "Halcyon," late her Majesty's brig "Torch," did not look by any means the same vessel that had sailed from Quillimane. Neither of her masts were wholly standing. The main-topgallant mast with yards and gear was gone; the fore-topmast with all above it had disappeared, while the bowsprit looked a naked stump, and the splintered white edge of the smashed bulwarks fully attested the violence of the ordeal she had gone through. Not a regular trader, and being fitted out for a long cruise, Captain Weber was in no hurry to make a port. Having little cargo, and that selected for trading purposes, the brig was well provided with spare spars and sails, and, with the exception of Santa Lucia Bay on the coast of Natal, a better harbour for refitting her could hardly have been found. The rigging was covered with wet clothing, shaking about in the breeze. From the able seaman's tarpaulin and long boots to the captain's pea-jacket, and Donna Isabel's drenched cloak, all were there drying in the sunshine. The "Halcyon" rode with her bows to seaward, while astern lay the beach shaped like a crescent, and composed of fine sand glittering in the beams of the morning sun. The luxuriant forest growth swept down nearly to the water's edge, and the long straight stems of the cocoa-nut trees, with their tufts of thin leaves, shot up here and there like giants from among the lower growth. The crew, with the exception of two men, had been sent below, the brig being land-locked, or nearly so, and no possible danger apprehended, and as these men had been regularly relieved during the darkness, both crew and pa.s.sengers had enjoyed a good night's repose.

It was about eight o'clock when Captain Weber appeared on the quarter-deck; walking aft, he looked at the now useless compa.s.s, and then glanced aloft, from a seaman's habit.

"Let the men have their breakfast, Mr Lowe, comfortably, and then we'll go to work."

"We have a spare topmast and topgallant mast, Captain Weber; but I have been rummaging over the spars, and can find nothing that will do for the main-topgallant mast."

"Is there any stick that will serve for a jib-boom?"

"Yes, sir; there is a spare fore-yard, which the carpenter thinks may do."

"Very good. The moment the men have done breakfast get the boats into the water. We will carry out an anchor astern, and keep the jade a close prisoner, to teach her not to pitch the spars out of her. Call me when they are towing astern." And Captain Weber dived down to finish his toilet.

Below, all marks of the late gale had disappeared. The steward and his mate had been busy since daylight, and the more than ordinarily comfortable though small cabin was in perfect order, when the pa.s.sengers sat down at the breakfast table at nine o'clock. Of course the brig had not the slightest motion; in fact, she was as though in dock.

"Rather a difference this from yesterday, Dom Maxara," said Wyzinski, as that n.o.bleman appeared coming from his cabin.