Chapter XXXI.

The Captain's Story.

"Well, gentlemen," continued the Captain, after he had resumed his seat, "I expect you will hardly believe what I am going to tell you, but it is true enough, I can assure you, although there is no one alive to vouch for its accuracy except my self. We were running for Edgecombe when the mishap I am going to tell you about occurred, and had left the Wairoa with a fair breeze and the prospect of a quick voyage. The William and Julia was only a small topsail schooner of about sixty tons, and not a big steamer like this. I was master and half owner of her, and had for a crew Andy Murray and three seamen. We were loaded with timber, grass seed, a couple of tons of carrots, some wine, and a big case of machinery. It was on a Sunday, about two bells in the forenoon, that we were capsized, after passing the Straits all right, and about 30 miles from Kapiti Island, bearing S.E. After leaving Wairoa it came on a stiff nor'-wester, and blew me away from Kapiti into the mouth of the Straits, so we took shelter under the Island for nearly a week until the gale was over. Many of you gentlemen, perhaps, have had to take shelter there too?

"Yes," answered one of the passengers, "and unpleasant work it is."

"Well, continued the Captain in his quiet manner, as soon as the weather cleared off, we made sail for Edgecombe, and just as I made the port, a southeaster came on and blew me away for a week off the Cape; and on the Sunday we were capsized, nearly three weeks out. The sails had been knocked about too much, and were old. The nor'-wester had blown away one set, and the southeaster had blown the mainsail clean away. We bent the jib, but she wouldn't come to the wind, but laid in the sea. There we were, and nothing further could be done. About 9 o'clock on the Sunday morning I was down below changing my clothes; two of the men were at the pumps, and Andy, that was the mate, was standing on the companion, just about going on deck. "If we get back all right," says he, turning round, "you won't find me doing the Straits in a hurry again in the winter;" and the words were hardly out of his mouth when a terrific sea struck the schooner, threw us on our beam ends, and turned us bottom up. I tried to get on deck, but Andy was jammed in the companion. It was lucky I didn't get out, for no man could have lived out that gale. I just caught a sight of the deck through the water, and saw the men fall away from the pumps, and then Andy and I were splashing away in the cabin with the floor above our heads. I had told the two men to look to the pumps before they went below, and before Andy spoke I heard one of them say to the other, "Oh, she's all right, she'll weather it. The other man was down below for' ard. He was drowned, and found afterwards when the schooner drifted ashore.

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"What, captain, "asked one of the passengers," had the scooner turned bottom up?"

"Yes," replied the captain, "turned turtle completely."

"Don't interrupt the story, sir," said the noisy traveller from the corner were he sat; and the captain continued.

"Well, as Andy and I were splashing about, the lazarette hatch at the foot of the companion ladder fell between us, and I said to Andy:—

"If we could get up there, Andy, we should be all right;" and knowing that the little lazarette was full of stones, which had been put in to trim the vessel, I told him to pull out as many as he could so as to make room for himself, which he did; and then I got up and did the same. There was not more than 18 or 19 inches of height in the little place; only just sufficient to lay down in, and I can assure you, gentlemen, it was pretty close quarters. We turned out about twenty fathom of chain, but the end got foul between the big case and the bulk head, and there it hung. There was plenty of light, and I could just reach the water by stretching down my arm. But gradually the water got higher and higher as the vessel settled down, and we had to clear out or be drowned like rats.

All day Sunday we worked away at clearing out the stones, and trying to make a trunk way forward through the timber to get at the wine and provisions; and on Monday we tried to do the same, but had to give it up, as the timber was too long. Still the work did us good and kept evil thoughts away. We didn't speak much to each other, but leant over the hatch for hours watching the constant bubbling of the water beneath, as it rose and fell in the little cabin. A mist appeared to be constantly rising from the water, and we never felt any want of air. Indeed a cold draft appeared to sweep through the vessel's hold. Perhaps the little bubbles and mist supplied us with air. We both felt very tired, while each had a curious pressure in the drums of the ears. We weren't hungry or thirsty, only tired. The rolling of the vessel wore our arms into holes, while the coal-dust fell into our eyes, which we scooped out as well as we could with our fingers. I had some bricks for a pillow, but my own pillow took to floating about, so I seized it, and it gave me some help. I was right aft, and the mate close alongside. The noise in the ship all day and night was constant, and we hardly got any sleep.

On the Tuesday, the water was still rising, and I said to Andy, as plucky a young fellow as ever lived, "I'm not going to stay here to be drowned" (I felt that the sea was getting calmer outside), and I tried to get down three times that morning to see how to get out, for although you gentlemen may not think it, it was very dangerous work getting out of that cabin. We couldn't dive, for the water was nearly level with the hatch, and the only chance was to pull ourselves down, get through the companion, and out on deck as best we could, then under the taffrail, and so up to the surface. The companion ladder had been broken away by some locker boards, and the chain had also slipped away. The swish-wash in the cabin, as the vessel rose and fell, was like a sucker; and if I once had let go of the combing, I should never have reached it again. I tried to make use of a piece of canvas over one of the bunks, but that gave way. However, I managed to reach under the bunk with my foot, and that was the way to effect our purpose; first to pull ourselves down with the foot, then with the hands, then lay hold of the scuttle, and so out on deck.

Was it very cold asked one of the listeners as the Captain here made a pause and sipped his grog.

"Aye, that it was," replied he, "bitterly cold." I had torn off my coat and waistcoat when the vessel turned over, and I can tell you that it was cold enough lying in the lazarette. Every time she rose and fell the wind cut past like a knife. I had kept on my sou'-wester, and I had also a large comforter, with which I tried to keep myself warm. We once thought of cutting ourselves out, and had actually made a commencement, when the thought struck me that if we once let the air out the vessel would sink. I have heard since of vessels being thrown ashore that had capsized, and from which the poor fellows had tried to cut themselves out, but directly they made a small hole with a knife, out rushed some of the imprisoned air, and the vessel sank deeper down, drowning those inside.

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But to continue with my own yarn. After discussing the matter, I told Andy to go first, as it was my duty to be last on board, and to lend the mate a hand if anything happened. Andy wanted me to go first, but I gave him the extra chance, and he slipped down and got his toe under the bunk. I told him "to hold on till I said the word," for there were times when the suction was not so great as at others. I watched a favorable moment, and said "off with you, lad," and Andy pulled himself down all right, and I saw him go out of the companion. I had told him which way to cant so as to clear the boom, not knowing the masts had gone by the board. I saw him go the proper way, and then waited ten minutes to hear him knock as we had arranged, but poor Andy never knocked. So I went after him; got down all right, but never thought of opening my eyes till I got between the wheel and the scuttle, with my head, elbows and knees pinned up to the deck. My eyes stuck together like glue, but I managed to open them, and looked about for a second. The deck looked quite plain, though a little misty, and the masts were gone. But I hadn't much time to look at things, and quickly pulled myself by the wheel and companion to the taffrail, under the wire, and catching hold of a piece of chaffing-gear gave myself a pull up, and pu-u-u-u rose to the surface very nearly gone for breath. I had taken in a long breath before leaving the cabin, but it hardly lasted me.

Well, I found myself near the ship, with Cape Edgecombe in the distance. The water was still pouring over the vessel's bottom, so I said to myself, treading water all the time, "Old man," said I, "it won't do to go there," for as the water fell off, the back-wash would have drowned me. I fancy Andy got drowned trying to get on to the bottom. At any rate, I saw nothing of him. Looking round I perceived, just astern, the wreck of the masts, fastened by the cordage to the vessel, but the hulk apparently was drifting faster than the spars, and they hung behind, so I made for the spars, and got on the main boom. The boom rolled too much, and I could hardly hold on. I saw the deck end of the foremast standing up nearly four feet out of the water, so I made for that, and with the help of a part of the little winch, which had been broken, managed to get a foothold for one foot, spell and spell about. Luckily, there was a piece of about four fathom of line left on the winch, and with this I bound myself to the mast, and stayed there all that night.

On the Wednesday morning, about eight bells, I determined to make for the ship, as it was too tiring standing with the water up to one's knees. Oftentimes during the night I had felt drowsy, and badly wanted to lay down. I did go to sleep a little, but the sea occasionally struck the mast and wetted me all over. So I unbound myself and struck out for the wreck. It was bitterly cold, and I could hardly swim, being very weak. The bowsprit had somehow got across the bows, and the water was still falling off the bottom, and the back-wash would have sucked me down. I made for the bowsprit, and paddled slowly, as I sank very deep, the water just up to my lips. I got on to the bowsprit and then on to the bottom, or rather on to the keel, which was about a foot above the floor of the vessel, and sat down. I badly wanted to lie down, and as the keel was a foot broad I did so, but the water occasionally splashed over the keel, and directly I fell asleep I rolled off and woke up again. Then I tried to walk, but was too weak and had to crawl, but I tried, and tried, until I could walk.

About 12 o'clock I saw a vessel bearing down towards me, so I waved my sou'-wester, but no notice was taken. I waved again and again, and then I saw her sails flap as if she were going about, but she still kept on. I waited a few moments to allow her to come within a mile or so (for as long as she kept on her course I was right), and then waved again. Then I saw somebody jump on the rail, and look searchingly towards me with a pair of glasses. Then up went the flag, and I knew I was saved.

They lowered a boat, and when it came alongside I actually jumped into it almost briskly. They asked me if there was anybody else, but I said no. I had to be assisted up the vessel's side, and I couldn't walk aft. The captain had me undressed and put to bed, and some hot water bottles put to my feet, and gave me a little weak brandy and water occasionally. About 4 o'clock I had some soup, as page 26 the captain wouldn't give me any water, but a cup of coffee about 12 o'clock that night was the nicest thing I ever tasted in all my life. I couldn't get any sleep, but just dozed off.

Next morning I saw some clothes placed by the side of the bunk, but the slippers were too small as my feet were much swollen. I turned out, but couldn't stand. However, I persevered, and managed to dress and crawl up the companion, and by a good many efforts at last managed to walk. The captain thought me a pretty strong sort of fellow to be able to get about so quickly as that, and so I must have been. We reached one of the little ports near Edgecombe on the Saturday, whither the vessel was bound. Her name was the Hannah Brown, and I shan't forget her in a hurry—for, although I am a Bideford man, and have been five-and-twenty years at sea, and seen many curious things, I never had such a narrow squeak as in that capsize. When we got to Edgecombe I telegraphed to my wife and the owners that I had lost the vessel, and when I got home my wife took my coming in as naturally as if the William and Julia had been lying alongside the wharf all the time.

"And what became of the wreck?" asked Charley.

Well, the hulk drifted about for some time and then drifted ashore on the Sandspit, where it was afterwards found and sold for a song. I have never seen it from that day to this, but she was a good little craft both alow and aloft, and had I only had a storm trysail with me we should never have been capsized. But I never wish to live in a lazerette again, for those few days gave me a good many grey hairs and lost Andy the number of his mess.

"Thank you, captain," chimed in the passengers. "A very good story."

"You almost tell it as if it were true," said the commercial traveller. At this the captain gave his quiet smile, and went out to look after his ship.