Chapter VII: Afloat on a Derelict Ship

How strange it all seemed! And how unreal! Only yesterday bounding along in their own good barque, their home on the ocean wave, filled with hope, and even happiness. To-day, afloat on a derelict ship! There were times when Sandie was not quite sure whether or not he was awake, whether all he saw around him was not merely the phantasm of an ugly dream.

Alas! it was all too real.

The deserted ship was, like the lost _Boo-boo-boo_, a barque, but not of the same dimensions by a long way.

What had been her trade or calling? Well, Captain D’Acre and his mate had not much difficulty in determining this. First and foremost, she was exceedingly light in the water--almost empty, in fact. It was evident, therefore, that she had not yet taken her cargo on board. Down below in the hold, and ’tween decks, were found large quantities of rice and many barrels of water. There was also ample provision for cooking this rice at the large galley.

“Do you begin to smell a rat, sir?” said the mate.

“I do, my friend, I do.”

“And see, sir, what we have in this corner!”

As he spoke he hauled out a long strong iron bar, to which leg irons were attached, and a padlock fastened to the end.

“Now,” said the skipper, “we can not only smell the rat, but see it.”

“Blackbirders!”

“Blackbirders,” repeated D’Acre, “evidently.”

For the benefit of the uninitiated, I beg to say that in some parts of Australia--Queensland, in particular, I think--black labour is hired from the islands of the South Pacific. The natives--call them savages, if you please--who “volunteer,” are offered good wages and a free and safe passage back to their own homes. It is almost needless to say that they seldom see those homes again.

But the men engaged in this nefarious trade are called Blackbirders, and as a rule the business resolves itself into one of kidnapping the blacks, oftentimes associated with the most shocking atrocities and cruelties that can be imagined.

As long as Blackbirding is suffered to exist, slavery of the basest sort must be supposed to flourish. I know there are people even now that deny the existence of Blackbirding, or that it ever did flourish in cruelty and tyranny. Proofs are all against these people, and many a burned and blackened island, many a desolated village, and many an ant-cleaned skeleton lying unburied and bleaching in the sun, shall testify to what I say.

“Yes, she is a Blackbirder, right enough, mate. Perish the fiends! But what fools they were to leave their ship!”

“As a rule,” said the mate, “the cruel are cowards.”

“Well, mate, I don’t hold with you altogether there. I have known fiends in human form who were very far indeed from being cowards. But come now, mate, we’ll go on deck, and begin making the ship as snug as ever we can.”

“Well, sir, there is one thing sure enough, we must make the best of our way towards some island. The ship won’t float a week.”

“Think not?”

“Sure of it, sir. Collision with us didn’t improve her. No, she won’t float.”

“Well, we must beach her.”

“Yes; that is, if we can fall in with an island to beach her on.”

“Another thing is this, mate, we must try to keep in the track of vessels, outward or homeward bound.”

“Yes, captain, that’s our only holt.”

“You see, mate, if we strike some lonely out-of-the-world island, we run the chance of lying there till we rot, even if our bones are not picked by hostile natives.”

“True, sir, true.”

“Well, in the route from China to England round the Horn there are many islands, so there are in the route ’twixt Sydney and England viâ Panama. Our plan will be to repair ship, and bear up for some of these. With God’s good help, I think we may reach an island in safety. If the worst comes to the worst, we have still the boats.”

“Good, sir, good! Ah! excuse me, sir, but your head is screwed on with the face to the front.”

The kindly old captain laughed, then both went on deck.

All hands were now called, and work was commenced at once.

The skipper first, however, made his men a little speech, explaining the discoveries they had made below, and his intentions of trying to beach the sinking derelict on some island in the track of trading ships.

After this the men set to work with a will, cheering each other with chaffing, and laughing, and talk, and even with snatches of song.

In a very short time the wreck was cleared away, all that was useful being retained, and mere lumber bundled overboard to amuse the sharks.

The mainmast had gone, but not quite by the board, so that it was easy to rig a jury, and set thereon a huge trysail. With her square sails on the fore, and jibs set, and the wind being now on the quarter, the _Peaceful_, for that was her name, which must have been given by way of a grim joke, seemed to feel herself once more, and fancy herself also, lifting proudly to every wave, and coming down again with a saucy plunge that sent the spray flying inboard over the bows.

On the heaving of the log, it was found that she was making the highly respectable progress of seven knots an hour.

This was increased to eight after the pumps had been rigged and the water lowered in the hold.

This pumping, it was found ere long, was work that must be kept up for over two hours in every watch, else the _Peaceful_ would soon follow the example of the _Boo-boo-boo_, and sink to rise no more.

Sandie soon came to the conclusion, that what he saw around him did not belong to the realms of dreamland, but to those of stern reality.

He could not tell what dangers or difficulties were yet to be encountered, but he had the most perfect confidence in the skill and ability of that white-haired old skipper to do whatever was for the best. And he had, moreover, faith and trust in God, who rules all, and who can hold the ocean in the palm of His hand.

Tyro, the collie, had entered into relations of the most friendly character with the young red tabby cat, and the two were romping together on the quarter-deck, as if there was no such thing as death or danger in the universe.

The course now steered was as nearly nor’-west as possible.

Captain D’Acre really entertained some hopes that he might meet some homeward bound steamer, or be overtaken by one that was outward bound.

But one never knows how vast the ocean is until he is sailing on its heaving breast. Ay, and you may sail for weeks in an ocean highway, and never meet or see a ship, only the great silent wondrous world of waters, for ever moving and heaving around you.

* * * * *

With varying fortunes as to wind and weather, the sadly-stricken barque, _Peaceful_, sailed on and on and on.

It was now very warm on deck, not to say broiling hot. The pitch boiled in the vessel’s seams, and Tyro’s bonnie white paws were sadly soiled and blackened. The sun all day blazed in a sky of lightest blue, only down along the horizon, great rock-looking clouds were banked up, behind which every night summer lightning gleamed incessant.

It was about three bells in the morning watch one night, but still inky dark, when the first mate, lamp in hand, entered the captain’s cabin, and touched him on the shoulder.

The skipper was but a light sleeper, and so raised himself from his cot at once.

“Anything wrong, mate?”

“I fear, sir, there is something very much wrong indeed. We seem to have sprung an ugly leak all at once. The water is gaining on us fast, though we’re pumping all we can.”

“Bless my soul, mate!”

“If we can keep her afloat for six hours, sir, I think it will be all we can do.”

“Well, in three hours, my friend, we can easily arm and provision boats.”

“Yes.”

“Better call all hands, then.”

“I’ve done so an hour ago, sir.”

“Tell the steward to splice the main-brace immediately after the men have had their coffee and biscuit.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

“What time did you say it was?”

“About three bells and a quarter. The sun will be up in a short time.”

“Good! I’ll be on deck in a brace of shakes.”

Sandie and Willie had been aroused by the shouting and trampling of feet, and dreading something unusual had happened, they had quickly dressed and gone on deck.

On learning what had happened, both heartily volunteered to lend a hand at the pumps, and so the work went merrily on.

Soon the sky assumed the most glorious colours, with flushes of gold and cloud stripes of purest amber and crimson.

Next, there hung low down on the horizon a short bright blood-red line, which got bigger and more definite in shape every moment, till at last up leapt the sun, and a triangular bar of bright ensanguined water stretched right away to the very hull of the sinking ship herself.

Higher and higher mounts the sun, paler and clearer become its beams. And now, to the joy of all, there is visible, not many miles away, a green island.

It is like a veritable fairyland, for it does not appear to be in the sea at all, but afloat in the ambient sky.

“Can we make it, sir,” asks Sandie, “before the vessel sinks?”

The captain’s glass was turned towards the island. He could see its golden sands, see the long white line the breakers made as they broke lazily on its beach, and see behind tall cocoa-nut trees and banks of waving palms.

“We can make it, my young friend, if----”

“If what, sir?” said Sandie, feeling somewhat uneasy at the captain’s manner.

“If, Sandie, it _be an island_, and not a mocking _mirage_.”