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Chapter II
The Wreck.

"Land ahead!"

What may not that cry mean to the sailor ? It may tell of the end of the voyage and the drawing near to the "desired haven," or it may be the note of danger, or distress—perhaps of death itself !

Land, where no land was expected ! —In such a storm, on such a night, there was something ominous in the cry which had brought me, half-dressed, to the Dundonald's deck.

And what a sight was that which greeted my eyes !

There are moments which seem to have a lifetime of experience crowded into them; moments when the memories of years pass through the brain; moments when the eye takes in with one glance scenes, even to minute details, which may afterwards take hours to describe. And so it was upon this occasion. A single glance served to take the scene in, and the next moment I was racing back to warn my companion of the danger. But to tell you of what I saw will be an entirely different business.

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Still, I must attempt it to the best of my ability. "Land !" was the cry which I had heard as I lay snug in my bunk, and land was what my startled eyes saw as I rushed on deck. Land, terribly near; but what land ? No artist who desired to paint a picture of desolation could have conceived a more terrible scene than that which now met my gaze.

Land! Land so close that the most inexperienced eye could have detected the peril we were in—a land of black, frowning, threatening cliffs, which seemed to tower up to eternity.

If you have been out in a thick fog, you will know how strangely objects spring into view as you walk along. One moment nothing but the veiling mist, then a strange, blurred image, and then, before you know it, you are right up to it—tree, wall, man, animal, or whatever it may be.

So it had been now. Driving through the dense mist, battling with rain-filled winds, staggering beneath the blows of the waves, the brave ship had gone, like some strong man battling patiently against many oppressing obstacles; and then suddenly, out of the mist, that vision of rocky headland that burst upon the astonished eyes of the watch on deck.

Land! We seemed to be running head on, into a narrow bay—no pretty bay with shelving beach and shell-strewn sand, but a bay of upleaping, volcanic rock, black, sheer, forbidding. From two or three points on the port bow, and right round on the starboard side, as far as page 33the quarter, those cliffs, the sentinels of that lonely land, stood, their summits lost in the overhead mist—the mist that pressed down so low that even our own tops seemed indistinct in its wreathing veil. They rose from deep water, too; it needed but a glance at the waves to tell that. The seas came running in from the waste beyond—great, unbroken monsters— until they met the rocks at the cliffs' foot, when they broke with a roaring which filled the very air, and sent mighty columns of spray high upwards.

And in the smother of foam below, strange objects like long, writhing, black snakes could be seen—-snakes which darted out towards the Dundonald, as if welcoming her to the grave which she was so soon to find. Not snakes really, but great masses of seaweed as thick as a man's wrist, and nigh on twenty feet long.

That was the picture. Long as it takes to describe it, a single glance seemed to take it all in, and I rushed back, shouting to George Ivimey to get a move on him, and I hastily finished getting into my clothes.

"Hurry, man ! Hurry up ! "

And with my warning to Ivimey there came the mate's call from the deck:

"Weather fore braces !"

I raced out on to the deck again almost as the command was given. The moment that land had been sighted they had braced the yards sharp up, hoping that they might weather the cliffs; but now, as it became apparent that any page 34such hope was vain, they were going to try and wear her short round—an almost impossible task in that confined space, and yet the only chance that we had left. It was that, or rushing bow foremost into those terrible cliffs. A desperate chance, but still a chance which, if missed, would never return.

Had we continued our present course, in less than five minutes the Dundonald would have struck, her jibboom would have snapped like a carrot, the head-stays would have gone, and down the masts would have crashed, with the result that no one would have lived to tell the tale.

The captain knew it, and he gave the order. It was wonderful to see how calm and collected he was as he stood there. His very calmness seemed to infuse itself into the crew. A chance —a dog's chance only—but he took it, and gave the order to wear her round.

I rushed to the fore-braces with several others —who were working with me, and who were the after ones, I cannot say—and we strained and hauled with all our might to get the heavy yards round. It was a race against time, and who could say which would win ? Round the yards' came, but nearer and nearer drew the shore. It would be a terribly near thing if the Dundonald cleared it.

Crash !

A shivering shock seemed to run through the vessel. It was as though she were a living thing, knowing her danger, and trembling at it. She had struck a sunken reef with terrific force, but page 35the next moment she was over it, and afloat again, though that rude shock must have sorely damaged her plates.

"There, she feels it!"

The words were shouted into my ear just as the ship struck the reef, and I turned, to see Low beside me.

We did not stop working, though. Our orders were to swing the yards, and swing them we would, so long as they were there to swing, until we were told to belay.

"What is the name of the island, anyhow ?" I shouted back. And his answer came:

"Stewart Island."

Poor Low ! He was sadly out of his reckoning there, for Stewart Island is just south of New Zealand; and we, as we afterwards found out, were far south of that.

"Stewart Island," he said, and then, just as we got the yards round, the mate came rushing along the deck, shouting at the top of his voice: "Let go the topsail halyards !"

Away we rushed, and I never saw Low again. What his subsequent fate was, and how he met that fate in a brave attempt to scale those cliffs, I shall tell you later. He was separated from me in the rush across the deck, and I never saw him again.

But I remember just as the order came that Lee, the carpenter, who was standing close to us, turned and asked us whether we thought we could weather the land, and I answered that I did not think anything of the kind.

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I knew that the captain was doing the only thing that could be done; but I knew, too, and so did many another there, that we would never get out of a hole like that, for there was not room to wear the ship.

Well, with the mate's order, we rushed to the halyards—some to the fore and others to the main and mizzen. In less than a second the falls were cast off the belaying-pins, and down came the three heavy yards with a run; and then came another order—a terribly significant one:

"Clear the boats, lads ! "

Gear the boats ! Desert our brave old ship in her hour of need, and trust our lives to those frail craft ! Alas ! it was not a case of deserting. All that skilled seamanship could do had been done, and the doom of the barque Dundonald was fixed.

But the order was given, and life itself might depend upon prompt obedience.

We were away, and upon the skids in half a second, some working at the port lifeboat, and some at the starboard.

Crouching there, the wind driving by, and stinging like a whip lash, almost numbed to the bone with the cold, with clouds of spray drenching us, we worked like madmen; and yet as calmly as if there were no peril. We moved quickly, but every man knew just what he was doing; there were no trace of that worst of perils—panic—at least not with the crowd at my boat.

I can see that scene now. I had my sheath page 37knife, and was cutting the canvas cover away for all I was worth, when I happened to glance over to the other boat, and there I saw Sam Watson—the black who had killed the shark, you know—and I think that the fear of it all had got hold of him. He was standing erect, the whites of his eyes showing strangely, and he had an oar in his hands, which were raised high above his head.

"Too late ! Too late !" I heard him scream in an eldritch tone. "Too late !"

It might be too late, but the order was given, and it had to be obeyed. We got the cover and gripes off, and I was dipping the fall round the after tackle, as there was no turn in it, when I become aware of the startling fact that I was alone.

Alone! What had happened ? Had my shipmates deserted me, or had some monster wave swept them away, and yet spared me ?

Alone ! No; I saw a dim form disappear and make aft. And, as I glanced after it, I saw other forms just dimly outlined in the mist. Well, it was no use staying there, for I certainly could not do anything with the lifeboat by myself.

I jumped out of the boat, quick as a flash, and raced along the bridge from the skids to the poop; that, as most people know, is captain's ground, where only the officers are permitted, together with such men as are ordered there for duty. But there was no time for ceremony now; poop and forecastle, stem and stern, the page 38Dundonald was doomed; and, from first to last we knew it.

There stood the captain, his son Jimmy by Ms side—a poor, scared little lad, struggling bravely to hide the fears which were surely no disgrace, as he stood by his father. There were the mates, and around them clustered the hands, waiting for the captain's orders, and still, in spite of their peril, showing that they had confidence in him. And there, too, sticking to his post, was the man at the wheel.

You may talk of this hero, and that; but, to my mind, I looked at a hero then. He was only a common seaman, a Swede named Andersen, but standing there at the wheel, as though he were out in mid-ocean, with no peril nigh.

The air was full of strange noises now—wind voices, and sea voices, moaning, sobbing voices, as of storm spirits, singing the dirge of the fated ship, which now had swung round, and was running stern first into a small sort of bay. She ran it slowly; for you must understand that when we hauled the foreyards aback it stopped her headway, and she did not gather sternway very quickly.

How awful those cliffs looked as we got close to them ! How the foam churned and hissed, and that long waving sea-weed seemed to stretch out, as if eager to claim us for its prey.

The captain gave the order that all hands were to get lifebelts on, and the sailmaker went to get them. These lifebelts were kept in the page 39sail locker, which was next to my berth; and despite the sea. which now swept the decks, he went and got them out, passing them along to the second mate, who in turn handed them up to the rest of us. As quick as lightning, but as calmly and methodically as if nothing were wrong was every thing done; and the captain, his son by his side, stood there superintending it all, and seeing that every man had one of th6se precious life-belts, so that he might have a chance in the last tight that was to come.

And then Andersen, never leaving go of the wheel, revealed of what sort he was; for he called over and asked for orders—and what orders do you think ? He asked whether he should leave the wheel" when the vessel struck" stern first on those frowning cliffs !".

Think of it ! I have read of the skeleton of the Roman soldier found at Pompeii, and have heard the story of how he stood there on guard forgotten by all in their terror-filled flight, and waiting for death because he had not received permission to desert his post; but what of Andersen, who asked for permission to leave the wheel "when the ship struck ?" Well, I have got my own opinion as to which of those two is the greater hero.

" Leave it at once, my man," said the captain. "You can do no more good there," and Andersen obeyed; but scarcely had he relinquished his hold of the spokes, when a tremendous sea caught the rudder, and the wheel went round at an awful pace; then the page 40rudder itself must have struck a rock, and the sudden jerk of stopping it sent the wheel into a hundred pieces.

If we had any chance before, that would have killed it; our ship, unmanageable, drifted in and in; and we waited for the crash which was to end her, shivered beneath those dark waves.

And as we drew nearer to those terrible cliffs, their dreadful aspect only increased. Many a glance was cast towards them, in the hope of discovering any pathway to their summit, in case we managed to escape the fury of the waves and reach their base; but they seemed to forbid the faintest hope. Straight as the side of a house they appeared from where we where. A sailor can generally manage to find a foothold; but not even a sailor can walk up a perpendicular wall; and that was what those cliffs most resembled to our despairing eyes, as we looked upon them from the deck of the Dundonald.

As we looked, we noticed on our port side, just abaft the beam, there was a big tunnel of cave in the cliff face, which ran right through to the other side, and through this a big sea was running with tremendous force. From where I stood this tunnel appeared to be about fourteen feet wide, and its top was about thirty feet above the sea.

I have heard many storm sounds during my voyaging; but I do not think that I ever heard such a dismal noise as the waves made rushing through that great, yawning tunnel. It was a page 41weird, hollow sound, which seemed to shiver on the air; and in spite of everything that we could call up of nerve and pluck, it found a way into our hearts.

It was enough to make any man afraid. There was the cave with the waves rushing through; there the tall cliff with the hissing foam and the lashing weed-; there were the great, madly leaping waves bearing down upon us, as though they knew that our end had come, and were rejoicing at our plight. The night was as black as ink, and the icy blasts were full of slanting rain and drifting mist. The earlier part of the night had been bad enough, but this was far and away the worst.

And now the poor ship seemed as if she had run aground upon some great shelf of sunken rock; for she got no nearer to the face of the cliffs, but lay heeling over towards the land, whilst the seas broke in relentless fury over her decks.

We knew that she was not on a beach, for we could tell by the run of the waves that deep water was there, so she must be resting upon some out-jutting crag; off which, if she had rolled, she would have sunk in deep water.

The second mate went up to the captain with a life-belt, but Captain Thorburne shook his head.

"Not until you have seen that everyone else has one," he said.

Oh, how bitterly cold it was ! My numbed fingers could not hold the strings to fasten my lifebelt; my teeth chattered in my head, I page 42felt as though I should never be warm again. And, indeed, judging from the outlook, it seemed as if before very long both my shipmates and myself would be washing to and fro amidst the seaweed and foam.

The officers had not made the same mistake as Low did when he said that we had struck on Stewart Island. The captain, who had not had the sun for two days, and had, therefore, been obliged to go by dead reckoning, had expected to pass the Auckland Islands by midnight, being forty miles to windward. They knew the name of this black, forbidding land; and the fact that, if we could manage to get ashore, we might find a Government depot; but of our search for that I shall have to speak later.

Well, our lifebelts were on, we clustered together on the poop, and then the first mate suggested that we should do better if we went forward—we could not well be in a worse plight and there we might find a little shelter.

"Better get there at once, sir," he suggested to the captain, "for if this mist settles down, we may not be able to find our way across the deck."

And there was reason in what he said, for the seas were making clean breaches in her, and wreckage was washing all over the place. It was not an easy task, anyhow, to avoid danger there, and if to other perils was to be added that obscuring mist—mist so thick that one could not see a step ahead—it might mean that any page 43attempt to get forward would but be walking to meet death.

The captain agreed, and so away we went, Captain Thorburne holding his son's hand, down from the poop, and along the wave-washed deck—that deck which had once been such a picture of neatness.

Clinging to whatever came first, we made our way forward, and took shelter under the forecastle head. It was not much, but it was something. Scarcely, however, had we got settled there, when she started shipping seas forward —great angry masses of water, which went clean over her, whilst we could feel her poor timbers quiver as they received those giant blows.

We did not quite know what to make of our position—that is, the crew did not; but I think the captain knew. I looked into his face several times—it was as calm and unmoved as ever, and yet there was something there which I had not seen before. From the moment when the Dundonald started going down he had known what was before us, and he was a brave man, who saw death ahead, and prepared to meet it fearlessly. Only when now and again he looked down at his son I saw his lip tremble. Perhaps he was thinking more of those at home, who would watch, and wait, and pray for their safe return, and yet never see them more, until they shall meet before that sea which is like unto a sea of glass, in the kingdom where no night is, nor pain, nor sorrow, parting, nor death.

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But if he knew, most of us did not. It seemed impossible that we could be lost, with land so close at hand. Close! Why, it looked as if, had she but drifted in a little nearer, her yards would have touched the cliff itself, and yet she was settling down—the cruel rocks over which she had passed must have torn great holes in her.

So we crouched there, whilst the seas came one after the other leaping over her.

The first mate took out his pipe, and knocked the ashes from it.

"We shan't be able to stay here for long," he said, and he produced his pouch and calmly filled the bowl.

It seemed so strange to see him do that at such a moment, and yet I have thought since, that there was a Providence in it. Thought! I feel certain of it. For that simple act was the means of preserving the lives of all those who eventually reached the land—all, that is, excepting himself, as you shall hear later.

Now you may ask how that could possibly come about, and perhaps you might wonder for a long time, and never come to the right answer, so I had better make haste and explain what I mean to you.

There he stood, calmly rubbing the tobacco and pressing it into the bowl of his pipe, and then he felt in his pocket for a match, only to find that he had not got one.

" Any of you fellows got a match ? he asked, turning round to the rest of us.

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Mind, there was nothing disrespectful to the captain in that—the first mate would have been the last man going to be guilty of any breach— but we were at such a pitch now, that we knew that if any of us had followed his example, not a word would have been said by way of rebuke.

"Any of you got a match ?" he asked, and one man, named John Puhze, produced a new box.

"Here you are sir. They are quite dry," he said, and the mate took them with a nod, and a "Thank you, my lad ! "

Crack; the match struck, and the tiny point of flame glowed red on his face as he bent forward, shielding it with his hand from the wind, and pulling hard at his pipe.

"Ah, thanks ! "And he handed the box back to Jack Puhze." Ah," he said again, with a sigh almost of satisfaction, and then he remained silent, smoking hard and staring out at the darkness.

And John Puhze took that box of matches and raised his hand to throw them into the sea.! What good were they ? What need to trouble to undo his jacket to put them away in an inner pocket ?

I just caught sight of him as his arm was raised. The box was almost leaving his hand; another moment and it would have been lost; but a sudden idea flashed through my mind, and I grabbed his hand just in time.

"Hold hard, John. Hand them over to page 46me," I said." They may come in very handy presently."

John Puhze stared, but made no objection. He handed the box of matches to me, telling me to take them if I wanted them, and I unbuttoned my oilskin and put them in the inside pocket.

What made me stop John I cannot tell. It was just like an inspiration; but I did it, and afterwards I and the others had occasion to thank God for it.

So I put them away, and the second mate laughed and made some joke about it. He was a splendid fellow, and doing all he could to keep up our spirits.

"We shall have to get out of this, mister," said the captain to the first mate, as another big sea came rushing over. And, indeed, it didn't take much to tell us that if we didn't clear we might get caught like rats in a trap and drown without a chance of making a fight for it.

"I think so, sir," the mate answered; and so a general move was made, and we managed to get up on the forecastle head.

And not a bit too soon, for scarcely had we got clear, when she began to ship seas on her main deck, one after another.

We had not got much doubt by this time as to what was before us. From point to point we had been driven by the waves, and if they reached us here, there was nothing left but the rigging, where we might hang until it was all washed away from the poor, dying barque.

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And so we all stood waiting, whilst wind and sea sang the Dundonald's dirge, and the mist drifted like a winding sheet above us.

And there came a picture of a far-away home in dear old England, and of the loved ones who would never greet me again, and I wondered how they would grieve, when, after long days of waiting, the story of the wreck became known. The father, the mother, and all the dear ones— what were they doing now, and were they thinking about me ?

Poor Jimmy Thorburne was crying softly to himself, and no wonder. Poor little fellow, it was a sad ending to the voyage which he had taken to make him well. The captain looked at him, and turned his head away, and I heard him mutter huskily to the mate:

"ake care of him, mister."

It was the last thing I heard him say. Out of the darkness a monster of a wave sprang. It rose, it came clear over the forecastle head from the port side. I was facing aft when it came, by the after-rail of the forecastle head; the captain, the mates, and Jimmy were with me. The sea burst upon us, and we clung on like grim death. Some were on the fore stay, others were on the jibboom, others, like myself, on the deck.

Out parallel we were dragged by the wave, then it was gone, and the ship seemed to have slipped down into a great hollow, with a solid wall of water rising above her on either hand. It was as though she were in a grave; and indeed she was in her own grave. I saw page 48not a single one of my companions. I was alone—buried with the ship, the water rising. higher and higher above me.

Then it seemed to stop. It bent, it curved over on either hand, and then down, down it came, thousands and thousands of tons. That watery grave was filling in—the brave Dundonald was buried.