Part 14 (1/2)

He began operations by attempting to get at the needle of the compa.s.s, but finding that this was secured powerfully by means of gla.s.s and bra.s.s, he changed his mind, and devoted himself heart and soul to the wheel. Turning it round until the helm was hard down, he looked up at the sails, and with some curiosity awaited the result, but the vessel having no motion no result followed.

Failing in this he forced the wheel round with all his might and let it go suddenly, so that it spun round with the recoil, and narrowly missed knocking him down!

This was a pleasant source of amus.e.m.e.nt, uniting, as it did, considerable effort and some danger, with the prospect of a smash in some of the steering tackle, so Billy prepared to indulge himself; but it struck him that the frequent recurrence of the accompanying noise would bring the skipper on deck and spoil the fun, so on second thoughts he desisted, and glanced eagerly about for something else, afraid that the golden opportunity would pa.s.s by unimproved.

Observing something like a handle projecting from a hole, he seized it, and hauled out a large wooden reel with a log-line on it. With this he at once began to play, dipping the log into the sea and hauling it up repeatedly as though he were fis.h.i.+ng, but there was want of variety in this. Looking about him he espied a lead-line near the binnacle; he cut the lead from this, and fastening it to the end of the log-line, began forthwith to take deep-sea soundings. This was quite to his taste, for when he stood upon the vessel's side, in order to let the line run more freely, and held up the reel with both hands, the way in which it spun round was quite refres.h.i.+ng to his happy spirit. There must have been a hitch in the line, however, for it was suddenly checked in its uncoiling, and the violence of the stoppage wrenched the reel from his grasp, and the whole affair disappeared beneath the calm water!

The Bu'ster's heart smote him. He had not meant anything so wicked as _that_.

”Ha! you young rascal, _I_ saw you,” said one of the men coming up at that moment.

Billy turned round with a start, and in doing so fell headlong into the sea.

The sailor stood aghast as if paralysed for a moment, then--as Billy rose to the surface with outstretched hands and staring eyes, and uttered a yell which was suddenly quenched in a gurgling cry--he recovered himself, and hastily threw a coil of rope towards the boy.

Now it is a curious and quite unaccountable fact, that comparatively few sailors can swim. At all events no one can deny the fact that there are hundreds, ay, thousands, of our seafaring men and boys who could not swim six yards to save their lives. Strange to say, of all the men who stood on the deck of that sloop, at the time of the accident to Billy, (Russians included), not one could swim a stroke. The result was that they rushed to the stern of the vessel and gazed anxiously over the side; some shouting one thing, and some another, but not one venturing to jump overboard, because it was as much as his life was worth to do so!

Several ropes were instantly thrown over the drowning boy, but being blinded both by terror and salt water, he did not see them. Then one of the men hastily fastened the end of a line round his waist, intending to spring over and trust to his comrades hauling him on board. At the same moment several men rushed to the stern boat, intent on lowering her.

All this occurred in a few brief seconds. Billy had risen a second time with another wild cry when his father and the skipper sprang up the after-hatch and rushed to the side. Haco dashed his indestructible hat on the deck, and had his coat almost off, when Gaff went overboard, head first, hat, coat, and all, like an arrow, and caught Billy by the hair when he was about four feet below the surface.

Of course Gaff's re-appearance with his son in his arms was greeted with heartfelt and vociferous cheers; and, of course, when they were hauled on board, and Gaff handed Billy to the skipper, in order that he might the more conveniently wring a little of the superabundant water from his garments, another and a still more hearty cheer was given; but Gaff checked it rather abruptly by raising himself and saying sternly--

”Shame on you, lads, for not bein' able to swim. The child might ha'

drownded for all _you_ could do to help him. A soldier as don't know how to shoot is not much wuss than a sailor as don't know how to swim.

Why, yer own mothers--yer own _sweet-hearts_--might be a-drownin' afore yer eyes, an' you'd have to run up an' down like helpless noodles, not darin' to take to the water, (which ought to be your native element), any more than a blue-nosed Kangaroo. Shame on ye, I say, for not bein'

able to swim.”

”Amen to that, say I,” observed Haco with emphasis. ”Shame on stout hulkin' fellers like you for not bein' able to swim, and shame on them as steers the s.h.i.+p o' State for not teachin' ye. You can put that in yer pipes and smoke it, lads, an' if it don't smoke well, ye can make a quid of it, and chew it. If I could make quids o' them there sentiments, I'd set up a factory an' send a inexhaustible supply to the big-wigs in parlymint for perpetooal mastication. There now, don't stare, but go for'ard, an' see, two of you take in another reef o' the mains'l. If the gla.s.s speaks true, we'll be under my namesake-- barepoles--before long; look alive, boys!”

It was something new to the crew of the ”Coal-Coffin” to be thus checked in an enthusiastic cheer, and to be rebuked by the object of their admiration for _not being able to swim_.

Deep and long was the discussion they had that evening around the windla.s.s on this subject. Some held that it was absurd to blame men for not being able, ”when p'raps they couldn't if they wor to try.” Others thought that they might have tried first before saying that ”p'raps they couldn't.” One admitted that it was nothing but laziness that had prevented _him_ from learning, whereupon another opined that dirtiness had something to do with it too. But all agreed in wis.h.i.+ng earnestly that they had learned the n.o.ble and useful art, and in regretting deeply that they had not been taught it when young.

The boy, who formed one of the crew, silently congratulated himself that he _was_ young, and resolved in his own mind that he would learn as soon as possible.

The sun set in the west, and the evening star arose to cheer the world with her presence, while the greater luminary retired. Slowly the day retreated and dusky night came on. One by one the stars shone out, faintly at first, as if too modest to do more than glimmer, but stronger and brighter, and more numerous by degrees, until the whole sky became like a great resplendent milky way.

Still there was no evidence that a double-reef in the mainsail was necessary; no indication that the weather-gla.s.s had told a truthful tale.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE STORM, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

It came at length with awful speed and fury.

At first there was a stifling heat in the atmosphere; then clouds began to dim the sky. Mysterious and solemn changes seemed to be taking place in nature--noiselessly for a time. Ere long the war began with a burst of heaven's artillery. It was distant at first; muttering, prolonged, and fitful, like the rattling musketry of advancing skirmishers. Soon a roar of deafening thunder rent the sky. Another and another followed, with blinding flashes of lightning between, while rain came down in torrents.