The Lust of Hate by Guy Newell Boothby (digital book reader txt) 📕

diamonds. In the apex of the bows the look-out stood, while black and

silent behind him the great ship showed twice its real size in the

darkness. The lamps shone brilliantly from the port and starboard

lighthouses, and I could just manage to distinguish the officer of

the watch pacing up and down the bridge with the regularity of an

automaton. There was something about the silence, and that swift

rushing through the water—for we must have been doing a good sixteen

knots—that was most exhilarating. For something like an hour I stood

and enjoyed it. My nervousness soon left me, and to my delight I

found that I was beginning to feel sleepy again. At the end of the

time stated I made my way towards the ladder leading from the

topgallant fo’c’sle to the spar deck, intending to go below, but just

as I reached it a man appeared from the shadow of the alley way,

approached the bell, and struck three strokes—half-past one—upon

it. At the same instant the look-out called “All’s well!” The words

were scarcely out of his mouth before there was a shuddering and

grinding crash forward, then a sudden stoppage and heeling over of

the great craft, and after that a dead, ghastly silence, in which the

beating of one’s heart could be distinctly heard.

The confusion of the next few minutes can be better imagined than

described. The vessel had slipped off and cleared herself from the

obstruction whatever it was that had caught her, and was now going on

her way again, but at reduced speed. I heard the skipper open his

cabin door and run up the ladder to the bridge shouting, “What has

happened?” The officer of the watch replied, but at the same instant

the sailors and firemen off duty came pouring out of the fo’c’sle

shouting, “She’s sinking! She’s sinking!” The engine-room telegraph

had meanwhile been rung, and the ship was perceptibly stopping. I

stood where I was, wondering all the time what I had better do.

“Everyman to his station,” bellowed the skipper, coming to the

rails of the bridge, and tunneling his mouth with his hands so that

his voice might be heard above the din. “Be steady, men, and remember

that the first man who gives any trouble I shall shoot without

warning.” Then, turning to the chief officer, he signed to him to

take the carpenter and hasten forward in an endeavour to ascertain

the nature of the injuries the vessel had received.

By this time all the passengers were on deck, the women pale and

trembling, and the men endeavouring to calm and reassure them as well

as they were able. I made my way up the ladder to the hurricane deck,

and as I did so felt the vessel give a heavy lurch, and then sink a

little deeper in the water. A moment later the chief officer and

carpenter crossed the well and hurried up the ladder to the bridge.

We all waited in silence for the verdict that meant life or death to

everybody.

“Ladies and gentleman,” said the skipper, coming down from the

bridge, after a short conversation with them, and approaching the.

anxious group by the chart room door, “I am sorry to have to tell you

that the ship has struck a rock, and in a short time will be no

longer habitable for us. I want, however, to reassure you. Thare is

ample boat accommodation for twice the number of our ship’s company,

so that you need have no possible fear about leaving her. How long it

will be before we must go I cannot say. There is a strong bulkhead

between us and the water which may stand long enough for us to reach

Teneriffe, which is only about a hundred miles distant. I think,

however, it would be better for us to be prepared for any emergency.

The ladies will therefore remain on deck, while the gentlemen go down

to their cabins and bring them such warm clothing as they can find.

The night is cold, and in case we may have to take to the boats

before morning it will be well for everybody to make themselves as

warm as possible.”

Without more ado the male portion of the passengers ran down the

stairway to the saloon like so many rabbits, I following at their

heels to see if I could be of assistance. Into the cabins we rushed

at random, collecting such articles of apparel as we could find, and

carrying them on deck with all possible haste. The necessity for

speed was so great that we did not pause to make selection or to

inquire as to ownership, but took what we could lay our hands on and

were thankful for the find. In the cabin I entered I noticed a pair

of cork jackets pushed under a bunk. I dragged them out, and heaped

them on the top of the other things I had collected. Then a sudden

inspiration seized me. On the rack in the saloon I had noticed a

large flask. I took possession of it, and then, collecting the other

things I had found, ran on deck again. I could not have been gone

half a minute, but even in that short space of time a change had come

over the ship. Her bows were lower in the water, and I trembled when

I thought of the result of the strain on the bulkhead. I found Miss

Maybourne standing just where I had first seen her, at a little

distance from the others, aft of the chart-room and beside the

engine-room skylight. She was fully dressed, and had a little girl of

eight with her, the only daughter of a widow named Bailey, of whom

she was very fond.

“Miss Maybourne,” I cried, throwing down the things I had brought

on the deck as I spoke, and selecting a thick jacket from the heap,

“I found these clothes in a cabin. I don’t know who they belong to,

but you must put on as much as you can wear.”

She obeyed me willingly enough, and when I had buttoned the last

garment up I insisted on her putting on one of the cork lifebelts. As

soon as she was clothed I put another garment on the child, and then

attached the second lifebelt to her body. It was too big for her to

wear, but fastened round her shoulders I knew it would answer the

same purpose.

“But yourself, Mr. Wrexford?” cried Miss Maybourne, who saw my

condition. “You must find a cork jacket for yourself, or you will be

drowned.”

At the very instant that I was going to answer her the vessel gave

a sudden pitch, and before the boats could be lowered or anything be

done for the preservation of the passengers, she began to sink

rapidly. Seeing that it was hopeless to wait for the boats, I dragged

my two companions to the ladder leading to the after spar deck. When

I reached it, I tore down the rail just at the spot where Miss

Maybourne had fallen overboard on the Spanish coast a few nights

before, and, this done, bade them jump into the sea without losing

time. Miss Maybourne did so without a second thought; the child,

however, hung back, and cried piteously for mercy. But, with the ship

sinking so rapidly under us, to hesitate I knew was to be lost, so I

caught her by the waist, and, regardless of her screams, threw her

over the side. Then, without waiting to see her rise again, I dived

in myself. The whole business, from the moment of the first crash to

the tune of our springing overboard, had not lasted five minutes. One

thing was self-evident—the bulkhead could not have possessed the

strength with which it had been credited.

On coming to the surface again I shook myself and looked about me.

Behind me was the great vessel, with her decks by this time almost on

a level with the water. In another instant she would be gone. True

enough, before I had time to take half a dozen strokes there was a

terrific explosion, and next instant I was being sucked down and down

by the sinking ship. Plow far I went, or how long I was beneath the

waves, I have no possible idea. I only know that if it had lasted

much longer I should never have lived to reach the surface again or

to tell this tale. But after a little while I found myself rising to

the surface, surrounded by wreckage of all sorts and descriptions.

On reaching the top, I looked about me for the boats, which I felt

sure I should discover; but, to my surprise, I could not

distinguish one. Was it possible that the entire company of the

vessel could have gone down with her? The thought was a terrible one,

and almost unnerved me. I raised myself in the water as well as I was

able, and as I did so I caught sight of two people within a few yards

of me. I swam towards them, and to my joy discovered that they were

Miss Maybourne and the child upon whom I had fastened the cork

life-preservers a few minutes before.

“Oh, Mr. Wrexford,” cried Miss Maybourne, in an agonised voice.

“What are we to do? This poor child is either dead, or nearly so, and

I can see no signs of any boat at all.”

“We must continue swimming for a little while,” I answered, “and

then we may perhaps be picked up. Surely we cannot be the only

survivors?”

“My poor, poor uncle!” she cried. “Can he have perished! Oh, it is

too awful!”

The cork lifebelts were keeping them up famously, and on that score I

felt no anxiety at all. But still the situation was about as desperate

as it well could be. I had not the least notion of where we were, and I

knew that unless we were picked up we should be better drowned at once

than continue to float until we died of starvation. However, I was not

going to frighten my only conscious companion by such gloomy

anticipations, so I passed my arm round the child’s waist and bade Miss

Maybourne strike out for the spot where the ill-fated Fiji Princess had

gone down. At the same time I asked her to keep her eyes open for a

boat, or at least a spar of some sort, upon which we could support

ourselves until we could find some safer refuge. On the horrors of that

ghastly swim it will not be necessary for me to dilate. I must leave my

readers to imagine them for themselves. Suffice it that for nearly a

quarter of an hour we paddled aimlessly about here and there. But look

as we might, not a sign of any other living soul from aboard that ship

could we discover, nor anything large enough upon which three people

could rest. At last, just as I was beginning to despair of saving the

lives of those whom Providence had so plainly entrusted to my care, I

saw ahead of us a large white object, which, upon nearer approach,

proved to be one of the overturned lifeboats. I conveyed the good news

to Miss Maybourne, and then, with a new burst of energy, swam towards it

and caught hold of the keel. She was a big craft, and, to my delight,

rode high enough out of the water to afford us a resting-place. To pull

myself and the child I carried on to her, and to drag Miss Maybourne up

after me, was the work of a very few moments. Once there, we knew we

were safe for the present.