1955313The Sea Wolves — IX. THE TRAGEDY OF THE FLIGHTMax Pemberton

The rumour that the Semiramis had not coal enough on board her to make the passage to the south was quick to be spread aboard among the hands; and it did not fail to inspire them for a moment with those gloomy thoughts which had already come upon Messenger. It was obvious to the meanest intelligence that danger lay near any European shore, and that safety was to be had only in the freer atmosphere of South American republics, where writs travel in shackles and treaties of extradition are mostly matters for mockery. Once in sight of Montevideo every man would have breathed a new breath of hope and of enterprise; but cooped up in a small yacht, with one of the fastest cruisers floating at their heels, and the necessity before them of touching at a Spanish port, what anticipation of ultimate success could the best among them entertain?

While the crew had thus a momentary appreciation of them, the fact that they were rapidly leaving the Nero behind acted as a tonic upon their spirits and presently recalled them to joviality. All that afternoon, as the cruiser's hull sank upon the horizon, they sang merrily; and when Burke, to save coal, slackened down speed to fourteen knots that there might be no doubt of the bunkers holding out to Corunna, there was almost the suspicion of riotous freedom among them. Such a display of spirits endured well into the night, the gale falling away somewhat after eight bells, and the moon flooding picturesquely upon the wildness of the Bay; but all were weary with the long watching, and at midnight the hands turned in, and the others made no delay in following their example, leaving Kenner as sentinel at the door and the ever humble Parker in his place upon the bridge. And for some time these men had nothing to do but to listen to the song of the gale and the wash of the sea, or to take a frequent look away to the shadowed horizon where the pursuing cruiser lay, though not plain to their sight.

Now Kenner, as the earlier record shows, was, in spite of his ever-ready braggadocio, a superstitious man. He had gone through the whole of this adventure with the feeling that ill to him personally was like to come of it; and on this particular evening his fears gripped him incessantly. For one thing, he could not rest assured that the Nero was really outpaced, and he went often to the deck to ask of Parker if there was any sign of her on the near sea, or show of her lights which would allow an estimate of the distance between them. But Parker invariably assured him that it was all right—"perfectly right, sir"—and he went back to the book he could not read and the cigar which he did not care to smoke. Toward six bells in the middle march his uneasiness became as profound as Fisher's had been some nights gone, and he even went the length of waking Messenger, who started up at once and felt for his pistol, expecting to hear of a new trouble with the men, or of anticipation of it.

"Well, what is it?" said he, when he had blinked awhile in the light, and looked into the chambers of his Colt to be sure that they contained cartridges. "What's the matter with you?"

"That's what I'm asking myself," said Kenner. "I've got as many jumps as a colt in a corral."

"You?"

"Yes, me!" replied Kenner. "I've not a strong love for nights. I've shot men, you'll remember, and it ain't particular pleasant to hear 'em talking. The sea's full of 'em to-night; I can see 'em every way I turn!"

Messenger shrugged his shoulders.

"That comes of having an imagination; it's a dangerous thing to cultivate recollections. I'll have to sit up with you; or, better still, you'll have to go to bed."

"I think not," said Kenner. "I guess I'd want a draught stronger than any medicine-man could give me to sleep tonight. I'm going to see it through, if it's a week."

"It won't be that," answered Messenger shortly; "tomorrow should pretty well settle it. But let's get above and learn what's stirring."

They went on deck, to find a night of weighty darkness, and no show of a single ship's light anywhere upon the horizon. The sea was still very rough, but the combat of fierce breakers had in part given way to a tremendous swell which followed the fall of the hurricane; and a long roll of the ship was welcome after the constant lurching which they had known for some days. Indeed, there was great vigour in the cold of the night air, and the flecks of surf which the wind scattered in their faces brought a freshness and a sense of strength which can only be had afloat and in the teeth of an ocean wind. Kenner especially seemed to get courage the moment he had escaped the close atmosphere of the saloon; and as he lighted a fresh cigar he bawled up to the bridge where Parker was, and asked for the tenth time, "What news?"

"There's no change, if it please you, gentlemen," said the meek Parker.

"Was there any sight of the ship when the wind fell?" asked Kenner.

"Not a sight, gentlemen," replied Parker. "I hope I do my duty, gentlemen; I try to—indeed, I do, gentlemen; and if it depends upon me, there'll be no danger—not the least, I assure you,"

"What does the tachometer show now?" enquired Messenger.

"It shows sixteen knots, I believe; I may say with confidence sixteen knots and a fraction which can scarcely be of moment."

"Isn't it rather dangerous to keep it down to that with dark about us like this?" asked Messenger, who had been looking aft over the port quarter for some time.

"That's what I told the skipper; but I may say without any offence that he is short, very short, gentlemen," answered Parker apologetically.

"What did he say when you told him?" interposed Kenner.

"Really, sir, I couldn't venture to repeat the words—so short, so very short."

"That's Burke all over" said Kenner; "he'd swear away his own head for the sake of getting an oath off. I'd quicken up a bit, if I were you, and take his warm language on a thick hide. I guess I don't like the look of it at all, eh, Prince?"

"I haven't liked the look of it for twenty hours past," replied Messenger, as the wind scattered fire from his cigar, and it went away glowing to leeward. "If I were Parker, I'd put her at twenty knots, and let him ramp; but it's not my business, as I said before. Have a cigar, Parker?"

"Well, gentlemen," said the mate unctuously, "you are very kind. I'm sure I hope I give satisfaction, gentlemen. I'll ring down for twenty knots; but he'll be very angry when the watch changes."

"Refer him to me," said Messenger, taking Kenner's arm; and then they walked aft, where the tarpaulin covered the damaged skylight, and, getting what shelter they could from wind and spray, they continued the conversation.

"I may be thick, Prince," said Kenner, "but I'm blessed if I can realize that we're afloat on this job."

"Well," answered Messenger, "if you've any doubts, you'd better go and wash in the money down stairs."

"Ay, it's there right enough," continued Kenner, "though a man's got to be good at figgers to know what's the meaning of a million sterling, even in dollars, by thunder! To think that you and I closed on it from a bit of a talk with a kid at Monaco!"

"Three months ago exactly," said Messenger, "and not a week since I told you that my plans were perfect. Well, there's always a rift in a lute like this, and you've got to mend it before you've any music. My mistake was a small one comparatively, but its effects have been wide. I've no doubt whatever that the mate was picked up, and that this business is written about in London now with letters as big as your foot—and that's pretty big, Kenner."

"I can't think why on earth you took the chap aboard," said Kenner thoughtfully; "I'd have seen him stretched first."

"Exactly. It's amazing how many things you think of when they can't possibly be of any use to anyone. I had my doubts about him, it is true, and was weak enough to take another man's estimate of them. That's where the folly came in."

"There," replied Kenner, "I'm with you all along; a big project means a big mind, and only one. We've had too many minds in this since the start of it, and what's the result? Why, we're on the road to be straightened out, every one of us. Look at it any way you like, you can't bluff it, for the hand ain't good enough. And I've had the notion ringing in my head ever since last night, when I dreamed we were took."

"Look here!" said Messenger angrily, "Don't let us have that woman's nonsense again. I can't see that the danger's insurmountable. It's great, of course; but we'll have to go into Corunna under a false name for coal, and then to risk it through the Doldrums. I should call the chance an even one."

Kenner had more words to say; but he stopped of a sudden as a figure joined them by the skylight, and he saw it was the figure of Fisher.

"Hello, young 'un!" cried he, "what brings you crawling out of bed?"

"I can't sleep," said Fisher; "I've done nothing but dream ridiculously ever since I turned in."

"You've caught it from Kenner," interposed Messenger a little contemptuously; "he's had a mountain on his chest for three days past."

"I dreamed the cruiser bad picked us up, and we were hit," said Fisher; "in fact, I saw the water rushing into my cabin, and it wasn't until I got on deck here that I knew I'd made a fool of myself."

"Wait a bit," said Kenner; "I guess you needn't be so ready. Look there!"

As he spoke the three men who had been standing in darkness were held to their places with cries upon their lips as a great flood of focussed light poured upon the deck of the yacht, and gave illumination for the tragedy which was to come. It was the search-light of the cruiser flashing upon them, and as they stood, and a great cry burst from their lips, they saw that she was not half-a-mile distant. Then flame shot from her gun amidships, and, with a terrible piercing crash, the yacht rolled her lee scuppers under.

For some moments a deadly stillness followed the sickening shiver of steel and of woodwork; but it was a stillness of terror and foreboding. The screws of the yacht had ceased to work; steam poured up in fleecy, hissing volumes from her engine-room; failing to head the waves, she was washed by them until she lay a heavy, rolling mass deep down in the sea. As for her men, they had come up almost with the reverberation of the shot, and stood—many of them half naked—dumb with the terror of the scene and its development. All was now still below, where dreadful cries had been heard for a moment after the shot fell; the smitten ship rolled heavily to starboard, flooded with spray and water, her desperate plunges foretold beyond questioning that the end of it all was near.

At this time it did not appear possible that the Semiramis could float for an hour. Although the cruiser ceased to fire at her, and lay playing upon her with the spreading radiance of her magnificent light, every man on deck awaited the moment when his body should shrink under the cold touch of the sea, and he should be drawn down in the vortex at once to death and to burial.

This very uncertainty, and the fact that the yacht continued to float in the face of her sore plight, added pitiably to the sufferings of the men. Burke had staggered upon deck at the first shock, and now stood muttering on the bridge, unable to gather his wits for a coherent order. The others, holding for shelter to the safety-line rigged aft, neither spoke nor thought of aught but the near prospect of death. Again, as in the other crisis, it was the voice of the one-legged man, Joe, who brought them all to their senses.

"Be gor! gemmelen," cried he, stumping aft with a quick step, "you go for blazes, sahs, and no mistake; you get your next slops mighty hot, sahs; you all go in the devil's foretop, and sign for long time, gemmelen—oh, yes, be gor!"

He stumped away, and shouted, now mocking, now inciting the crew to action, until even Burke was aroused at his words.

"You, there!" cried he to a small group of lascars and of seamen huddled up near the windlass. "Where's Nicolini?"

Nicolini was the engineer, but he and his "second" lay dead in the engine-room; and when no one answered Burke, the skipper turned to Parker—

"Don't stand shivering like a calf!" he roared. "Sound her for'ard, and see where she's hit; and aft, there, strip that gun and see if there's shot that's dry."

They bustled up at his orders, and although the ship lay heavy in the trough of the seas, they began to work both the Nordenfelt guns, and to pour, as it seemed, a futile stream of shot and bullets at the cruiser, which was now preparing to get the life-boat from the davits and to board the yacht before she sank. So clear was this that the near proximity of the new danger of capture drove, for a moment, all thought of the other from the men's minds; and they looked about them for weapons, with fierce threats upon their lips. Anon, they observed that the lifeboat had actually been launched, and they beheld her coming toward them, the great arc of light illuminating her path, and showing her, now thrown high upon a mount of water, now cast deep into the fallow of the sea; and the discovery moved them even to a greater intensity of savage anger. Yet this would have availed them no more than their loud defiance had not a very curious turn of fortune befriended, and for the hour, at any rate, diverted all the peril of this intrepid attack.

The chance came in the very instant when the Nero's boat was not a hundred yards away from them. How it was brought to pass they could scarce realize; but of a sudden the light of the cruiser went out and left blackness upon the sea. Scarcely daring to speak or to hope, the men of the Semiramis waited to hear the coming of the boat, but it never came. Twice the cruiser fired a gun, but no shell hissed over them; and when a third gun was fired, after an interval, they were sure it was a signal of recall to the boat. Then, indeed, an expectation of safety, newer, stronger, more potent, led them from their cowering laissez-aller; and as Burke roared the order for the hand-pumps to be worked, and for new soundings to be made, a ray even of cheerfulness moved them to activity.

At the end of half-an-hour, during which time they waited in momentary expectation of seeing the search-light again, dawn began to break upon the sea, being the morning of the fifth day. The first thought of all the men was for the cruiser, but when the night lifted, they saw her a long way off on their port bow, and no smoke came from her funnels, nor did she appear to contemplate any further pursuit. In fact, at the end of an hour she had almost disappeared, and Burke instantly called a conference in the cabin, while every hand worked for his life to pump out the engine-room, or to set upon the two short masts every stitch of canvas they would bear.

Burke's views were simple.

"We're knocked fair and square," said he, "with a hole big ez a barn door. From what I've learned we can't look to mend it this side of Spain."

"Will the yacht float that long?" asked Kenner, when he had heard the opinion.

"Maybe; maybe not," said Burke; "but the sea's fallin' and there's the boats."

"Wal," said Kenner, "I don't see where the boats come in—leastwise, not if you're going to take the yaller load along."

"What I can't quite understand," interposed Messenger, "is the reason they let us go at the very moment they were on top of us."

"You've to enquire down in their engine-room, I guess, to larn that," said Burke. "You may bet a bottle they didn't drop it because a fly settled on 'em."

"Do you think you can make Corunna with the rags you've got?" asked Kenner.

"I can try," replied Burke; "an' if it happens ez I don't—wal, you ain't much worse off than swimmin' abed here."

This was not an untrue reflection upon the condition of the saloon, into which the sea had poured until every cushion reeked of damp; and some of the kegs of gold even splashed in rolling pools of water. Everywhere below, in fact, the yacht was sodden with water; and although her custom was to stand up well under canvas, she now half buried herself in the long seas, and plunged ahead with heavy shocks and shivering labour. To live on her became a compulsory picnic, where the food was got haphazard, and was eaten with the salt which the waves cast. Once or twice she passed ships, and signalled to them that she needed no assistance; but the men, wearying in the work, became stupid with liquor, and lay about wet to the skin, or shivering with the deadly chill of exposure, which for many was to pass so soon into the chill of death. All that day and the next the stupor and inanition hung like a pall upon those who had made so great a cast for fortune, and upon their masters who had conceived it. To many of these a moment's warmth, a ray of heat, the shelter of a dry coverlet, would have been worth ten times their share of the vast plunder which now swam in the lapping seas of the saloon. But for them there was no relief. Water washed in the galley fires; the engine-room was full of it; the whole yacht reeked of it; and in the general desolation the men cried for land as children cry for the homes they have left and the havens of their comfort.

At what time—if ever—this wretched ship would have made Corunna no man may presume to tell. On the night of the eighth day the voyage ended abruptly, and with a mighty shock which, at the very moment of its coming, ended the yacht's history. She had struck hard upon the rocks of the northern coast of Spain; and as the seas rolled over her, and the men screamed in their terror, the commanding voice of Burke was heard crying—

"Shoreward, if you'd live! and every man for himself!"

"'SHOREWARDS, IF YOU'D LIVE!'"