The Lifeboat Part 29

"Why, then--ha! ha! ha!--why, I'll do it myself."

With another fiendish laugh Job sprang into the rigging, and was soon out upon the topsail-yard busy with the reef points.

"Why, he's _shakin' out_ the reef," cried Jim in alarm. "I've half a mind to haul on the starboard brace, and try to shake the monster into the sea!"

Job soon shook out the reef, and, descending swiftly by one of the backstays, seized the topsail-halyards.

"Come, lay hold," he cried savagely.

But no one would obey, so, uttering a curse upon his comrades, he pa.s.sed the rope round a stanchion, and with his right hand partially hoisted the sail, while with his left he hauled in the slack of the rope.

The vessel, already staggering under much too great a press of canvas, now rushed through the water with terrific speed; burying her bows in foam at one moment, and hurling off clouds of spray at the next as she held on her wild course. Job stood on the bowsprit, drenched with spray, holding with one hand to the forestay, and waving the other high above his head, cheering and yelling furiously as if he were daring the angry sea to come on, and do its worst.

Jim, now unable to speak or act from terror, clung to the starboard bulwarks, while Bunks stood manfully at the helm. Tommy held on to the mainmast shrouds, and gazed earnestly and anxiously out ahead.

Thus they flew, they knew not whither, for several hours that night.

Towards morning, a little before daybreak, the gale began to moderate.

Job's mood had changed. His wild yelling fit had pa.s.sed away, and he now ranged about the decks in moody silence, like a chained tiger; going down every now and then to drink, but never resting for a moment, and always showing by his looks that he had his eye on Tommy Bogey.

The poor boy knew this well, and watched him intently the whole of that terrible night.

Bunks, who had never once quitted his post, began to yawn, and suggested to Jim that he might take a spell at the helm now, when the progress of the schooner was suddenly arrested with a shock so violent that those on board were hurled prostrate on the deck, the fore-topmast snapped and went over the side, carrying the main-topmast and the jib-boom along with it, and the sea made a clean breach over the stern, completely sweeping the deck.

Job, who chanced to have gone down below, was hurled against the cabin bulkhead, and the gla.s.s bottle he held to his lips was s.h.i.+vered to atoms. With his face cut and bleeding he sprang up the companion-ladder.

"On the rocks!" he shouted.

"On the sand, anyhow," answered Bunks.

"The boat! the boat! she won't last ten minutes," cried Jim.

One of the two boats belonging to the "b.u.t.terfly" had been washed away by the last wave, the other remained in its place. To this the three men rushed, and launched it quickly into the water. Job was first to get into it.

"Jump in, jump in," he cried to the others, who were prompt enough to obey.

Tommy Bogey stood motionless and silent close to the main-mast. His face was very pale; but a stern pursing of the lips and compression of the eyebrows showed that it was not cowardly fear that blanched his cheek.

"The boy! the boy!" cried Bunks, as Job let go his hold of the schooner.

A wild stern laugh from Job showed that he had made up his mind to leave Tommy to perish.

"Shame!" cried Jim, seizing one of the oars; "pull, Bunks, pull to wind'ard a bit; we'll drop down and save him yet. Pull, you murderer!"

shouted Jim, with a burst of anger so sudden and fierce that Job was cowed. He sat down and obeyed.

The boat was very small, and might have been easily pulled by so strong a crew in ordinary circ.u.mstances; but the strength of wind and sea together was so great, that they were in great danger of being swamped, and it required their utmost efforts to pull a few yards to windward of the schooner.

"Now then, look out!" cried Jim, endeavouring to turn the boat.

As he said this a wave caught its side and upset it. The men uttered a loud cry; a moment later, and they were swept against the bow of the "b.u.t.terfly." Tommy had sprung to the side, caught up a rope, and cast it over. Bunks did not see it; he made a wild grasp at the smooth wet side of the vessel, but his hands found nothing to lay hold of, and he was carried quickly away to leeward. Jim caught the rope, but was brought up so suddenly by it that it was torn from his grasp. He also went to leeward and perished.

Job had caught hold of the cut.w.a.ter, and, digging his fingers into the wood, held on by main strength for a few minutes.

"Here, lay hold o' the rope," cried Tommy, whose only desire now was to save the life of the wretched man; "there, don't you feel it?"

He had rubbed the rope against Job's face in order to let him know it was there, but the man seemed to have lost all power to move. He simply maintained his death-grip until his strength gave way. Tommy understood his case, and looked quickly round for one of those ring-shaped lifebuoys which we are accustomed to see in our pa.s.senger steamers tied up so securely that they would in most cases of sudden emergency be utterly useless. But the owners of the "b.u.t.terfly" were economists.

They did not think life-preserving worth the expenditure of a few s.h.i.+llings, so there was no lifebuoy to be found. There was a round cork fender, however, which the boy seized and flung into the sea, just as Job's grasp loosened. He uttered a wild shriek, and tossed up his arms imploringly, as he was carried away. The buoy fell close beside him, and he caught it. But it was scarce sufficient to sustain his weight, and merely prolonged the agonising struggle. Tommy soon lost sight of him in the darkness. Soon after there arose a wild fierce cry, so loud and strong that it seemed to have been uttered at the boy's elbow.

Tommy shuddered, for it suggested the idea of a despairing soul.

He listened intently, and twice again that thrilling cry broke on his ear, but each time more faintly. Still he continued to listen for it with a feeling of horror, and once or twice fancied that he heard it rising above the turmoil of wind and waves. Long before he ceased to listen in expectancy, the murderer's dead body lay tossing in that great watery grave in which so many of the human race--innocent and guilty alike--lie buried.

Ere long Tommy was called to renewed exertion and trial.

The tide happened to be rising when the schooner struck. While the incidents above related were taking place, the "b.u.t.terfly" was being dashed on the sand so violently, that her breaking up in the course of a short time was a matter of certainty. Tommy knew this well, but he did not give way to despair. He resolved not to part with his young life without a struggle, and therefore cast about in his mind what was best to be done.

His first idea was to construct a raft. He had just begun this laborious work when the rising tide lifted the schooner over the sand-bank, and sent her off into deep water. This raised Tommy's hopes and spirits to an unnaturally high pitch; he trimmed the foresail--the only one left--as well as he could, and then, seizing the tiller, kept the vessel running straight before the wind.

Standing thus at the helm he began to reflect on his position, and the reflection did not tend to comfort him. He was out in a gale on the stormy sea, without companions, without compa.s.s to guide him, and steering he knew not whither--possibly on rocks or shoals. This latter idea induced him to attempt to lie-to till day-break, but the crippled condition of the schooner rendered this impossible. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to run before the gale.

In a short time his attention was attracted to a peculiar sound in the hold. On examination he found that the vessel had sprung a leak, and that the water was rising slowly but steadily. The poor boy's heart sank, and for the first time his courage began to give way; but quickly recovering himself he lashed the helm in position, and manfully set to work at the pump. He was somewhat relieved to find that the leak was small. In an hour he had pumped out nearly all the water. Then he returned to the helm and rested there for an hour, at the end of which the water in the hold had increased so much that he had to ply the pump again.

The day broke while he was thus engaged, but the morning was so thick that he could see no land. On returning to the helm the second time, Tommy felt that this state of things could not go on much longer. The excitement, the watching, the horrors of the past night were beginning to tell on him. His muscles were exhausted, and he felt an irresistible desire to sleep. He struggled against this till about noon, by which time the wind had moderated to a steady breeze, and the sun shone through the mist as if to cheer him up a little.

He had eaten nothing for many hours, as he did not dare to quit his post to go below for food, lest the schooner should come suddenly on some other vessel and be run down. Hunger and exhaustion, however, soon rendered him desperate; he ran below, seized a handful of biscuit, filled a can with water, and returned hastily on deck to break his fast.

It was one of the sweetest meals he ever ate, and refreshed him so much that he was able to go on alternately steering and pumping till late in the afternoon. Then he suddenly broke down. Exhausted nature could bear up no longer. He lashed the helm, pumped out the water in the hold for the last time, and went below to rest.

He was half asleep as he descended the companion-ladder. A strange and sad yet dreamy feeling that everything he did was "for the last time,"

weighed heavily on his spirit, but this was somehow relieved by the knowledge that he was now at last about to _rest_! There was delight in that simple thought, though there mingled with it a feeling that the rest would terminate in death; he lay down to sleep with a feeling that he lay down to die, and a half-formed prayer escaped his lips as his wearied head fell upon the pillow.

Instantly he was buried in deep repose.

The sun sank in the ocean, the stars came out and spangled all the sky, and the moon rose and sank again, but Tommy lay, regardless of everything, in profound slumber. Again the sun arose on a sea so calm that it seemed like oil, ascended into the zenith, and sank towards its setting. Still the boy continued to sleep, his young head resting quietly on the pillow of the dead skipper; his breath coming gently and regularly through the half-opened lips that smiled as if he were resting in peace on his mother's bosom.

Being dashed on the rocks, or run into by steamers, or whelmed in the waves, were ideas that troubled him not, or, if they did, they were connected only with the land of dreams. Thus the poor boy rested calmly in the midst of danger--yet in safety, for the arm of G.o.d was around him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE ANTIPODES.

A new scene breaks upon us now, patient reader. We are among the antipodes in that vast and wonderful region where the kangaroo reigns in the wilderness, and gold is sown broadcast in the land. The men we see are, to a large extent, the same men we saw before leaving the sh.o.r.es of Old England, but they are wonderfully changed! Red flannel s.h.i.+rts, long boots, leathern belts, felt hats, and unshorn chins meet us at every turn; so do barrows and pick-axes and shovels. It seems as if we had got into a region inhabited solely by navvies. Many of them, however, appear to be very gentlemanly navvies!

There are no ladies here; scarcely any females at all, for we have left the thriving settlements of Australia far behind us, and are now wandering over the Daisy Hill gold-diggings. The particular section of that busy spot to which our attention is directed at this moment, is named the "Kangaroo Flats."

None but strong men can get on here. Let us go forward, and see how they obtain this yellow metal that turns the world upside down!

Here is a man issuing from a hole in the earth close at our feet, like a huge ground-squirrel. He is tall; stout, and fair, with broad shoulders and a fine manly countenance, which is ornamented by a thick beard and moustache of glossy yellow hair. The silken curly hair of this man, contrasted with his great size and manliness, is very striking. He seats himself on a ma.s.s of clay, wipes the perspiration from his forehead, and shouts to some one down in the earth.