Майн Рид
Ran Away to Sea
Chapter Fifty Nine
An awful alternative it was, and for a long while the ill-starred victims seemed to linger in their choice. Hard choice between two horrid forms of death! Little did it matter which, and the knowledge of this rendered them indifferent whether to spring forth or stand still. Death was before them as well as behind – turn which way they might, death stared them in the face – soon and certain – and on every side they saw its threatening arm – before, behind, above, and around them. The utter hopelessness of escape had numbed their energies – they were paralysed by despair.
But even in the hour of the most hopeless despair there arrives a crisis when men will still struggle for life – it is the last struggle – the final conflict as it were, with death itself. No one yields up life without this effort, though it be ever so idle. The drowning man does not voluntarily permit himself to sink below the surface. He still strives to keep afloat, though he may not have the slightest hope of being rescued. The effort is partly involuntary – it is the body that still continues to battle for life, after the mind has resigned all hope – the last stand that existence makes against annihilation. It may be a purely mechanical effort – perhaps it is so – but who ever saw a strong man compelled to part suddenly with life, that did not make such a struggle? Even the condemned criminal upon the gallows continues to strive till the breath has parted from his body. Something like this last despairing effort aroused the energies of that hesitating crowd that clustered upon the burning barque. The crisis at length came.
The flames were fast rushing forward, and spreading over all the deck. Their red jets, spurting out beyond the selvage of smoke, began to touch the bodies of their victims, and pain them with the fierce sting of fire. It produced no augmentation in their cries of agony. These had long since reached the climax, and the voices of those who uttered them had been already raised to their highest pitch. But the close proximity of the flames, and the absolute certainty of being now destroyed by them, caused a general movement throughout the living mass; and, as if actuated by an universal impulse, or guided by one common instinct, all were seen making a sudden descent upon the water.
Those who had been hitherto standing along the side were not the first to leap. It was they who were farther back, and of course nearer to the flames, who first took to the water; and these, rushing over the bulwarks – and even stepping upon the shoulders of those who were clustered there – without further hesitation flung themselves headlong into the sea. But the impulse seemed to communicate itself to the others, and almost instantaneously – as if some one had proclaimed a way to safety and was leading them on to it – the whole crowd followed the foremost and went plunging into the water. In a few seconds not an individual could be seen – of all that dark swarm that had so lately crowded the fore-part of the vessel, not one was now visible on board. Simultaneously had they deserted the burning wreck!
A wild scene was now presented in the water. The whole surface was thick with human forms, plunging and struggling together. Some were evidently unable to swim, and, with their bodies half erect, were tossing their arms about in vain efforts to keep above the surface. Here and there several clung together, until two or three – or in some instances larger groups – dragged one another below, and sank to the bottom together. Strong swimmers were observed separating from the rest, and forging out into the open water. Of these the heads only could be seen, and rapidly closing upon them the dark vertical fin that told the presence of the pursuing shark.
Then could be heard the wild, despairing cry – then could be seen the quick rush of the monster upon his prey – the water lashed by his tail – the foam thrown up, already tinged with the blood of the victim – and, after that, the surface returning to its level – the eddies and red frothing bubbles alone marking for a few moments the scene of each tragical crisis.
Oh! it was an awful spectacle to look upon – this wholesale ravening of sharks – and even those who were upon the raft, with all their inhumanity and heartless cruelty of disposition could not behold it without emotion.
It was scarce an emotion of pity, however. Perhaps of all, Brace and I were the only ones who felt pity. Some were indifferent, but the majority of them – although a little awed by the tragical scene – were actually glad at beholding it! It may be wrong of me to say they were glad – what I mean is, that they felt a secret satisfaction at what was going on – springing not from pure wanton cruelty of heart, but rather from an instinct of self-preservation. Hitherto, these men had been in great dread of the blacks overtaking the raft – they were not yet free from the fear – and, of course, with this in their minds, they regarded with satisfaction the wholesale ravage that the sharks were committing. By this their own danger was every moment diminished – hence it is that they were gratified at the hideous spectacle.
But numerous as were the sharks, there were not enough of them to make total destruction of that vast crowd of human beings. After the first general attack the ravenous brutes appeared to become scarcer and scarcer, until but one here and one there, could be seen rushing upon their prey. The greater number, having already secured a victim, were satisfied and perhaps had gone down to their haunts in the darker deep – while hundreds of human heads were still observable above the surface of the water.
The flames, still flaring brilliantly, illumined the sea as if the day was shining upon it; and it could be observed that the faces of the survivors were all turned in the direction of the raft, towards which they were swimming with all their strength.
Once more the sailors became inspired with apprehension – once more they dreaded that their last hour was come, and that they themselves might soon be struggling among the sharks.
Chapter Sixty
There was much shouting among the white men and many wild exclamations, but no time was lost in idle talk – for every one was doing his best to propel the raft. The shouts were only an accompaniment to their actions. Nearly every one wielded some implement, which had been grappled in the hurry of the moment. Some were provided with oars, others had only handspikes, and still others assisted in paddling with pieces of board that had been obtained from old coops, or the bulwarks broken by the falling mast. Those who could find nothing better stretched themselves along the edge of the raft and beat the water with their hands, in order to aid in producing a forward motion.
But the great masses of timber – not yet firmly lashed together – lay loose and loggish upon the water, and moved very slowly and irregularly under such ill-assorted propulsion: and, notwithstanding that the raft had obtained a hundred yards the start of the swimmers, its occupants began seriously to dread being overtaken.
They had reason to fear it. There could be no doubt that the pursuers were gaining upon us, and this soon became evident to all upon the raft. Nay, more, they were gaining rapidly; and, at the rate at which they were swimming, five minutes could not pass before they would overtake us.
Those upon the raft were now quite conscious that such would be the event. Paddle and beat the water as they might they could not propel the heavy timbers beyond a certain rate of speed – not so fast as a man could swim. Notwithstanding their exertions, and the advantage of their long start, they saw they were going to be overtaken.
It could not be otherwise – there was nothing now to obstruct the pursuit – nothing to stay the pursuers. The sharks, having sated their appetites, had let most of the swimmers escape. Occasionally one was seen to go down with a shriek, but this was the exception – the rest swam freely on.
What was their motive in following us? was it vengeance, or a despairing hope of being saved? Perhaps both, – but no matter which, there were enough of them to overpower the white men by sheer strength; and, once they succeeded in reaching us, it was not likely they would fail to avenge themselves for the wrongs that had been put upon them.
Should they succeed in overtaking the raft they would easily climb upon it; a few might be kept back, but it would be impossible for thirty men to repulse hundreds; and the crowd would soon crawl over the edge, and, with their additional weight, sink the frail structure to the bottom of the sea.
Should they succeed in reaching the raft – there was no need of any supposition – they would be certain to overtake it – even at that moment there were some of them scarce ten yards off, and coming nearer at every fresh stroke of their arms. These, however, were the strongest swimmers, who were far ahead of the rest. The main body were still twenty yards further off; but it was plain that the slowest of them swam faster than the raft was moving.
Most of the sailors began to give way to despair. The wicked deeds of an ill-spent life were rising before them. To all appearance their last hour had come.
And mine, too – at least, so believed I at that moment.
It was hard to die thus – by such horrid means, and in such company. Sound in health, the love of life was strong within me; and under this impulse I almost repented what I had done. It was I who had brought about this last terrible contingency, and my own life was now to be the forfeit. Yes; I had acted imprudently, rashly, and I will not deny that at that moment I came near repenting of what I had done.
It was not a time for reflection. The crisis had arrived. We must all yield up life. The sea would soon receive us within its ample embrace. Masters and slaves, tyrants and their victims, must all perish together!
Such were the thoughts that were rushing through my brain, as I saw the black swimmers approach. I no longer felt sympathy or pity for them. On the contrary, I viewed them as enemies – as dreaded monsters who were about to destroy and devour us – to engulph us all in one common destruction, and among the rest myself – their late benefactor. Really, at that moment, in the confusion of my thoughts, I was regarding these unfortunate creatures as though they were voluntary agents – as though they were actuated by gratuitous cruelty and revenge, and not victims of despair struggling for the preservation of their own lives.
My senses had become confused; my reasoning faculties had forsaken me; and, in common with those around me, I regarded the pursuers as enemies!
Under this impression – false though it may have been – I was the less disposed to sympathise with them, when I saw the first who came near the raft beaten back by the oars and handspikes of the sailors; for to this it had now come.
It was a cruel scene that followed. I took no part in it. Though ever so desirous that my life should be saved, I could never have gone to such extremes to preserve it. I was but a looker-on.
I saw the foremost swimmers struck upon the head, or pushed away by violent “jabbing” from the oars and handspikes. I saw some disappear below the surface, as if they had gone to the bottom under the blow, while others, not injured, swam off, and then circled round as if to get ahead of us.
Though the fierce, angry shouts, and the still fiercer actions of the white men intimidated the foremost swimmers, these demonstrations did not drive them away. They only kept out of reach of the oars and handspikes, but still followed on. Indeed, they no longer followed; for the raft was no longer in motion; the rowers had enough to do without propelling it further, and it had now come to a stand still!
Chapter Sixty One
It soon became evident that the foremost swimmers, who had been for the moment repulsed, had no intention of turning back. Why should they? Behind them they had left no hope – not a plank to cling to – only a ship on fire blazing upward to the skies and now almost hid under the flames. Even she, before they could reach her, would be burned down to the water’s edge. Why should they think of swimming back? No; the raft was the only thing upon the whole face of that wide sea upon which human foot might now find a resting-place. Though it would be but a straw among so many, at that straw had they determined to clutch, so long as life remained.
They had no design of leaving us, but now swam round and round the floating spars, evidently waiting until their main body could come up, so that all might rush forward together and get possession of the raft.
This was plainly their intention: and, knowing it, the white men were fast yielding to despair.
Not all of them. There were some of those rough men who still preserved their presence of mind; and in that perilous hour, when all hope appeared to have vanished, these men suddenly hit upon a plan to save the raft, and the lives of those upon it, from the apparently inevitable fate that threatened them.
I was, myself, in a state of half-stupor. I had watched the movements of the poor wretches in the water till my head grew giddy, and I scarce knew what was going on around me. My face was turned towards the blazing ship, and I had not for a long while looked elsewhere. I heard the sailors ejaculating loudly, and shouting words of encouragement; but I supposed they were encouraging each other to repel the attack of the swimmers, who were now on all sides of the raft, forming a sort of irregular ring around it, of several feet in depth. I was expecting that we would soon be sinking into the sea! I was stupefied, and I thought I was dreaming.
All of a sudden I was aroused from my stupor by hearing a loud huzza. It came from the sailors behind me. I could not tell its meaning till I turned round, and then, to my surprise, I saw a piece of sail spread out transversely across the raft, and held by several men in a vertical position. There was one at each end and one in the middle, who, with their arms extended upward, held the sail as high as they could reach.
For what purpose were they doing this? I needed not ask the question. I saw that there was wind blowing against the canvas. I felt the breeze upon my cheeks.
I looked back to the water. I saw that the raft was moving rapidly through it. There was a rushing along the edge of the timbers – there was froth where the spars were cleaving the sea. I looked for the swimmers. I saw their round heads and grim faces, but no longer around the raft – they were already in its wake, every moment falling further away. Merciful heaven! at least from that terrible fate were we saved.
I kept gazing behind. I still saw the dark heads above the water. I could no longer distinguish their faces. I thought they had turned them away. I thought they were swimming back toward the blazing barque.
They may have turned back, but with what hope? They could have had none; though despair may have driven them in that direction as well as any other.
It was a sad beacon to guide them; nor did it serve them long. They could not have got near it – not half-way – before that event, so dreaded by Brace and myself, came to pass. The crisis had at length arrived.
Wherever the powder had been kept, it was long before the fire had reached it – far longer than we had expected; but the searching flames found it at last, and the concussion came.
It was a terrific explosion, that resembled not the report of a cannon, but a hundred guns simultaneously fired. Bed masses were projected far up into the heavens, and still farther out to the sea, hurtling and hissing as they fell back into the water. A cloud of fiery sparks hung for some minutes over the spot; but these at length came quivering down, and, as soon as they reached the surface, were observed no more. These sparks were the last that was seen of the Pandora.
The crew at this moment were awed into silence. There was silence far over the sea; yet for nearly another hour that silence was at intervals broken by the death-shriek of some exhausted swimmer or some victim of the ravening shark.
The breeze still continued to blow, the raft moved on, and long before morning the Pandora’s crew were carried far away from the scene of the terrible tragedy.
Chapter Sixty Two
The breeze died away before the morning, and when day broke there was not a breath stirring. The calm had returned, and the raft lay upon the water as motionless as a log.
The men no longer tried to propel it; it could have served no purpose to make way – since, go in what direction we might, there would be hundreds of miles of the ocean to be crossed, and to sail a raft over that long distance was not to be thought of.
Had there been a stock of provisions and water, sufficient to have lasted for weeks, then such an idea would have been more feasible; but there was nothing of this, and the idea of sailing in search of land was not entertained for a moment. The only hope was that a sail might appear in sight, that some ship might be passing across the ocean, and come sufficiently near to see us and pick us up. One and all were agreed that this was our only chance of being saved.
A cheerless chance it appeared when examined in all its bearings; so cheerless, indeed, that only the most sanguine of the party drew any hope from it. Notwithstanding the hundreds of thousands of ships that are constantly ploughing the mighty deep, and sailing from port to port, you will meet with but a very few of them on any long voyage you may make. You may go from England to the Cape of Good Hope, without seeing more than one or two sail during the whole passage! and yet that would be travelling upon one of the great highways of the ocean – in the track of all the ships sailing to the vast world of the East Indies, and also to those prosperous commercial colonies of Australia, whose mercantile marine almost rivals that of England herself. Again, you may cross the Atlantic upon another great water-way – that between Liverpool and New York – and yet between one port and the other, you may see less than half-a-dozen sail, and sometimes only two or three, during the whole of your voyage. Vast and wide are the highways of the great ocean.
With a knowledge of these facts, but few of the men indulged in any very strong expectation of our coming in sight of a sail. We were in that very part of the Atlantic where the chances of such an encounter were few and far between. We were out of the line of navigation between any two great commercial countries; and although formerly Spanish vessels had travelled a good deal near the track we were in – in their intercourse with their South American colonies – this intercourse had been greatly diminished by revolution, and most of the traffic with these countries was now carried on in vessels belonging to the United States, and these were not likely to sail so far to the eastward as we were. Portuguese ships still traded to the Brazils in considerable numbers, and upon these we built most of our hopes – these and the chances that some ship engaged in the same traffic as the Pandora might be crossing westward with slaves, or returning for a fresh cargo. There was yet other vessels that occasionally navigated this part of the Atlantic – cruisers on their way from the African coast to the Brazils, or warships from Gibraltar, going round the Horn into the Pacific, or passing from the Cape of Good Hope to the West Indies.
All these chances were eagerly brought forward by the men, and discussed with every circumstance of minuteness. Every point was produced that seemed to promise a hope of deliverance; for most, if not all, of these outlaws were seamen of experience, and well knew the ways of the ocean. Some held the opinion that our chances of being picked up were not so bad after all. There was a sail that could be rigged, by means of oars and handspikes, and spread out so as to be visible from afar. Some ship would be certain to come along and see us, and then all would be right again.
So talked those of more sanguine temperament; but the wiser ones shook their heads and doubted. They reasoned in an opposite strain, and made use of arguments, the force of which could not be denied, and which produced great discouragement. There are some who seem always to prefer exhibiting the darker side of the picture – perhaps not from any pleasure that it gives them to do so, but, by accustoming themselves to the worst view of the case they may be the better able to endure it when it comes. Otherwise, in the event of success, that they may derive all the greater enjoyment from the reaction.
These last alleged that the chances of meeting with any vessel in that solitary part of the ocean were slight, very slight indeed; that even if there were ships – hundreds of them – how could they approach the raft during a calm? Of course the ships would be becalmed as they themselves were, and would have to remain so as long as the calm continued. This would be likely to last for weeks, and how were they to exist for weeks? How long would their provisions keep them alive? Not weeks; a few days perhaps, not more?
These remarks led to an immediate examination of the stock of provisions that had been brought away from the wreck; and every article on the raft was now turned up and scrutinised. Strange to say the only thing of which there was a tolerable supply was water. The large cask that had hitherto stood on deck – and which was still nearly half-full – was now upon the raft. It had been bunged up and rolled overboard, and then safely deposited among the spars, where it floated of itself. What water may have been carried away in the gig no one knew, but certain it was that the cask was still nearly half-full.
This discovery produced a momentary cheerfulness – for, in such cases, water is usually the most important consideration, and ofttimes the very one that is neglected.
But the joy was of short continuance; when every article upon the raft was overhauled, and every portion of it carefully searched, the only food that could be found was a small bag of biscuits – not enough to give two biscuits to each of us – not enough for a single meal!
This astounded intelligence was received with cries of chagrin and looks of dismay. Some shouted in anger. One half recriminated the other. Some had been entrusted specially to provide the food. These alleged that a barrel of pork had been put upon the raft. Where was it? Certainly there was a barrel; but, on breaking it open, to the dismay of all, it proved to be a barrel of pitch!
A scene now ensued that it would be impossible to describe. Oaths, exclamations, and angry words passed freely, and the men almost came to blows. The pitch was thrown into the sea, and those who had put it upon the raft were threatened with a similar fate. Their negligence would prove fatal to all. But for them there might still have been a chance; but now, what hope? With two biscuits apiece, how long could they exist? Not three days without suffering the extreme of hunger. Ere a week should pass, one and all must perish!
The probability, nay, the positive certainty, of such a doom produced a scene of despondence – mingled with angry excitement on the part of those who called themselves “betrayed” – that it would be difficult to paint. Harsh revilings were freely used; and threats of throwing the delinquents into the sea continued to be uttered at intervals during the whole night.
There was still another barrel upon the raft, that had been better left upon the burning wreck. But it was not likely that it should be forgotten. Its contents were of a nature too highly prized by the sailor who fears death by drowning, or any other sudden or violent means. It is supposed to make death easy, and, therefore, the despairing wretch clings to it as a friend. It is a sad resource, an awful termination to human existence; but often is it appealed to in the last moments of misery. I need not say that this barrel contained rum.
Whether it was the same that had been lowered into the long-boat with such pernicious effect I cannot say. Perhaps it was. It may have floated and been picked up again; or it may have been still another one, for among the stores of the ill-fated barque there was a plentiful supply of this horrible liquor. It constituted the chief “tipple” of the dissipated crew – the main source of their indulgence and bestial enjoyment. A vile cheap stuff it was, freely served out to them, scarce kept under lock and key; and there was not an hour in which one or other of them might not have been seen refreshing himself at this odious fountain. If the barrel of pork had been forgotten and left behind, here was a substitute; and the sight of this reeking cask, strange to say, produced a cheering effect upon numbers of those savage men. Many were heard proclaiming, in a sort of jocular bravado, that if the rum wouldn’t keep them alive it would help them to die!
