Ran Away to Sea

At length the raft was deemed complete. It could not have exceeded fifteen minutes from the sinking of the long-boat, until the cheering fact was announced, that the raft was ready!

Chapter Fifty Three

But short as was the time it appeared an age to me. With that dread secret shut up in my breast, every minute seemed an hour; and I knew not the moment that was to be our last. When the long-boat went down, I had resigned all hope – not dreaming that a raft could be got ready before the explosion would take place.

It is metaphorical to say that every minute seemed an hour; but so tardy did the time appear that I began to wonder why the awful event was so long delayed. Perhaps, thought I, the powder may be far down, covered over with other things – such as boxes and bales – and the fire has not yet been able to get at it? I knew that a barrel of powder, even when thrown into the midst of a red-hot fire, takes a considerable time to explode. An intense heat must be generated in the wood before the powder inside will ignite; and, for this reason, the barrel must be a good while exposed to the fire. Perhaps the flames had not yet reached it? Was this the reason why the catastrophe was delayed?

Or was it that the powder was not in the store-room, or the cabin either, or in the after-part of the vessel at all? About its whereabouts the skipper had said nothing, and it was upon this point I had desired explanation as the gig rowed off. A knowledge of this might have been of the greatest importance; but the captain had not even thrown out a hint. What after all if there was no gun-power on board? What if the man had meant it as a jest – ill-timed and unfeeling though it was?

What if he had intended it not as a piece of pleasantry, but an act of refined cruelty?

There were circumstances that favoured this last supposition. For the preceding twenty hours he had been at loggerheads with the crew. Ever since morning, since the commencement of the water trouble, the men had been sulky and mutinous, and both mate and captain had been slightly treated – their orders in most cases altogether disregarded. In fact, both had been bearded and threatened, and several angry altercations had occurred between them and the crew. It was natural they should feel spiteful and desirous of having revenge – natural for such men as they were – and might it not be to gratify this feeling, that the skipper had shouted back that gratuitous piece of intelligence, that there was gunpowder on board?

Fiendish as such conduct may appear, there was probability in the supposition. It would only be in keeping with the character of the man.

I really began to hope that such might be the case; and it again occurred to me to seek Ben and communicate the secret to him. He would be more likely to know whether the skipper had spoken truly or in cruel jest; and, if the former, perhaps he might be able to guess where the dangerous material was concealed, and might yet be in time to move it beyond the reach of the fire.

These reflections occupied me but a few seconds of time; and as soon as I had made them I hurried over the decks in search of my friend, with the design of making the disclosure of my secret.

I found him among the rest, busy about the raft. He was wielding an axe, and cutting away some of the sheeting of the bulwarks, to help in its construction. I caught him by the sleeve, and with a gesture drew him a little to one side; and then in a whisper I made known to him the parting speech of the captain.

I saw that the announcement startled him. Brave man though he was, it was enough to bring the paleness to his cheeks, and cause him to stand for some moments speechless and irresolute.

“You’re sure he said that – sure o’ it, Willim?”

“Quite sure – they were his very words.”

“A barrel o’ powder aboard!”

“He said it just as they rowed off. I’ve been thinking he might have done it out of spite – to frighten us?”

“No, no, lad, it’s true – shiver my timbers! if it an’t. The powder – ’twas believed we’d turned it all over to King Dingo. Now I remember something. I thought I seed the skipper hide a barrel o’ it after it was counted out; he stole it from the nigger, for sartin. I thought so at the time, but warn’t sure. Now I be sure. There be a barrel aboard, sure as we’re livin’! Heaven o’ mercy – we’re lost, lad! – we’re lost!”

The momentary relief, which I had experienced from my late conjecture, was at an end; and my apprehensions were now as acute as ever. It was no jest then – the skipper had been in earnest. The gunpowder was on board – the stolen barrel – and for this theft we were now to be sacrificed while the thief himself had escaped!

Brace stood for some seconds, as if paralysed with the intelligence I had given him. He seemed to watch and listen for the crisis, and so did I.

After a short while, however, my companion recovered his presence of mind and appeared busy thinking out some plan of deliverance.

But a few seconds only was he silent, and then, making a sign for me to go after him, he glided towards the bows of the vessel.

No one saw or followed us, and there was nobody forward beyond the windlass. At the moment all were busy amidships, in getting the great mast overboard, and cutting away the strong ropes of the rigging.

Brace continued on over the bow-bulwarks, until he had got between the bumpkin and bowsprit-shrouds, and close to the figure-head of the vessel. Here he stopped and beckoned me towards him. I crawled over, and stood by his side.

“Not a word, lad! – not a word of what you’ve heard! It can do no good, but only harm. If they get to know’t, they’ll knock off work – every one o’ ’em – and then we must all either roast or drown. Let ’em go on with the raft – maybe there’ll be time enough yet. Almighty grant that there may be, Willim! For all that, ’tan’t no harm to try and save ourselves if we can. The powder’s sure to be about the cabin, and we’ll stand a better chance here forrard. But we ’ant a-goin’ to stop here longer than we can help. Look sharp, now, and give me a hand! These two planks ’ll float us. You cut some rope, then, while I knock ’em off – there, cut clear the jib-sheets and downhauls – that’ll do – quick, lad! quick!”

Thus directing me, Brace, who had brought the axe along with him commenced knocking off the great broad boards that stretched on both sides from the bulwarks to the figure-head, and upon which the name of the vessel was painted. With a few strokes of the axe the strong man was able to detach them; and, as soon as this was done, he slung them in the ropes I had already obtained, and lowered them down to the water.

Climbing out upon the bowsprit, he next detached the dolphin-striker, and it also was lowered down, while I made myself useful by cutting through the martingales, also the fore-topgallant and royal-stays, that fastened this spar in its place. Several other pieces of timber yielded to the axe; and all, having been thrown downward, floated together upon the motionless surface of water.

Brace, now perceiving that there was enough to make a raft to carry the two of us, flung the axe into the shrouds; and, gliding down a rope upon the floating timbers, called upon me to follow him. It was at this moment I heard the cry from the main-deck that the great raft was ready; and, looking back, I perceived that the men were hurrying over the side and descending upon it. If I remained but a moment longer I should be the last upon the burning wreck.

No! – not the last – far from it. There were nearly five hundred more – five hundred human beings on board the Pandora! and though they were men with black skins, they had lives to lose – lives as precious to them as ours were to us.

A terrible spectacle was comprehended in that backward glance – a sight, the remembrance of which never fails to send a chill through my veins, and a shuddering through my frame.

Chapter Fifty Four

During all this time what was the behaviour of the unfortunate blacks? Where were they? what were they doing? What was being done for them? Were any steps being taken for their safety?

The two last of these questions may be answered by saying, that up to that moment, with the exception of myself, perhaps, not one on board had given a thought either to them or their fate! With regard to their whereabouts, they were still between decks, and under grated hatches; and as to what they were doing, it would have been hard to tell that – hard even to guess it. One thing they were doing; they were crying frantically, and screaming as if they had all gone mad – but this was no new thing, it had been their behaviour throughout that whole day.

In their hurrying to and fro, while launching the long-boat, and afterwards while gathering materials for the raft, the men passed frequently near them; and then the cries of the blacks would, for the moment, be uttered in a louder voice, and in more earnest tones, – sometimes of entreaty, but oftener of rage and menace.

As no notice was taken of them, and those to whom they appealed passed carelessly on, their voices would sink again into the deep continuous murmur of despair.

It is probable that up to this period – the moment when the raft was ready – the only agony which they had experienced was thirst; for I noticed, on last passing them, that their cries had not changed. It was still agoa! agoa! – water! water! This, with the want of air and room, the desire to get upon deck, were the impulses that had been urging them to such furious and frantic demonstrations.

It is most probable, then, that up to the period I have mentioned they had no particular dread – at least, no dread of the awful doom that now threatened them so nearly.

The smoke of the burning cabin rather inclined aft than forward, and had not reached them, and the flames were not yet sufficiently bright to illumine the whole vessel with any unnatural light. Of course, from their position under the hatches, neither cabin nor deck was visible to them; and until either smoke or flame, or a brilliant light shining through the grating, should reveal the awful truth, they could not possibly be aware of their peril. No one had volunteered to announce it to them, because no one thought it worth while!

They may have observed that all was not right – they may have had suspicions that there was something amiss. The unusual movements of the crew – the noises heard upon deck – the hurried trampling of feet, and the gestures of the sailors, as these passed within sight, with the terrified expression of their countenances – which could scarce have been unnoticed – for it was still clear enough for that – all these matters must have excited the suspicions of the close kept crowd, that there was something amiss on board the barque. The crashing sound of axes, and then the shock and heavy lurching of the vessel, as the mast came down, may have excited other apprehensions besides that of perishing by thirst; and, though they continued their cries for water, I observed that they conversed among themselves in hurried mutterings that bespoke alarm from some other cause.

But as none of them knew anything about a ship or her ways – the Pandora was the first they had ever looked upon – of course they could not arrive at any conclusion as to why the unusual movements were going forward. Guided only by what they heard, they could hardly guess what was being done. They could not imagine there was a danger of being wrecked – since there was neither wind nor storm – and after all it might be some manoeuvre in navigation which they did not comprehend. This probably would have been their belief had they not observed the odd look and gestures of such of the sailors as at intervals came near the grating. These were so wild as to convince them that something was wrong – that there was danger aboard.

The commotion had produced fears among them, but not proportioned to the peril. They knew not the nature of their danger, and their alarm had not yet reached its crisis: but they were not destined to remain much longer in doubt.

Just at this moment a jet of red flame shot upward through the smoke – it was followed by another, redder and more voluminous – then another, and another, until the blaze rose continuous, and stood several feet in the air.

The moon became eclipsed by the brighter light – the whole vessel was yellowed over, as if the sun had returned above the ocean.

The crackling of the burning timber now sounded in their ears – the fire, having escaped from the embrace of its own smoke, seethed fiercer, and rose higher into the air, until the top of the ascending flames could be seen through the grating of the hatches.

But it needed not that the flames should be seen – their light, and the hissing, crackling noise that proceeded from them, proclaimed the dread nature of the catastrophe.

Then arose a cry – a wild, agonising cry – out of the bosom of that dark hold – out of the hearts of that ill-fated crowd – a cry that for some moments drowned the fierce seething of the flames, and the crashing, crackling sounds of the fire. I shall never forget that cry – none who heard it could fail to remember it till their last hour.

It was just at this crisis that I had turned to look back. Awful was the sight that met my eyes – awful the sounds that fell upon my ears. Under the bright gleam of the blazing ship, I saw the black faces and round woolly heads pressing against the bars of the grating. I saw glaring eyes, foaming lips, and teeth set in terror, glittering white under the corruscation of the flames. I saw smoke oozing up the grated hatch – the fire was fast creeping forward – its foul harbinger was already among them – oh! what an awful sight!

I could not bear it – I could not have borne it in a dream – it was too much for human eyes – too much for the heart of man. My first impulse was to turn away, and glide down beside my companion – who was waiting patiently upon the raft below.

This was my first impulse, which suddenly gave way to another. My eye had fallen upon the axe – still lying across the bowsprit-shrouds, where Brace had thrown it.

The weapon suggested a purpose; and, eagerly seizing it, I faced once more towards the burning vessel. My purpose was to return on deck – strike off the batten – and set the grating free. I knew the risk – I had forgotten the presence of the powder – but if it were to be my death I could not restrain myself from acting as I did. I could not live to behold such a terrible holocaust– such a wholesale burning of human beings!

“At least,” thought I, “they shall not perish thus. Though their fate be sealed, they shall have a choice of death – they shall choose between burning and drowning – the latter will at least be easier to endure.”

It was this last reflection that had prompted me to my purpose.

Bending downward, I hurriedly communicated my design to my companion. I was gratified with his reply.

“All right, Willim! good work – do it! – do it – set ’em free, poor creetirs. I was thinking o’t myself – tho’ ’twas too late – haste ’ee, lad – look sharp!”

I waited not for the end of his speech; but springing back to the deck, rushed towards the hatch. I thought not of looking below – indeed, the smoke was now coming up so thickly that I could scarce see the terrified faces. The glimpse I had of them was sufficient to satisfy me, that, in a few minutes more, those glaring eyes would have been blind, and those hoarse voices hushed in death.

I remembered where one batten had been removed, and where the other had been attacked by the axe. I renewed the attack – striking with all the strength and dexterity I could demand.

My efforts proved successful; and, after half-a-dozen blows, the spikes yielded, and the cleet of timber flew off.

I did not stay to raise the grating; I knew that would be done by the pressure from below; and, gliding back, I once more climbed over the bows.

One glance back, as I passed over the head, told me that my purpose had been fully accomplished. Instantly as I parted from it the grating was flung off, and I saw the stream of black forms pouring upwards and spreading itself over the deck!

I stayed to observe no more; but, sliding down a rope, was received in the arms of my companion.

Chapter Fifty Five

During my short absence, Brace had not been idle.

He had got his little raft compacted – its timbers tied together – and it now carried us both without even dipping under water. The two spars, the dolphin-striker, and half of the spritsail-yard were laid parallel to each other, and transversely to these were the broad pieces, that exhibited in large letters the name of the ill-fated barque. There were several other pieces of timber, a handspike or two, and an oar – which Brace had picked up as he glided towards the head – and over all was a piece of sail-cloth, or tarpaulin. The whole formed a raft just about large enough for two, and safe enough in calm weather, but under a gale, or even a strong wind, such a structure would have been overwhelmed at once.

But my companion had no intention of going to sea with such a craft. His idea had been that he might get it ready before the great raft could be finished, and the sooner escape from the dangerous proximity of the powder. Even if it had taken him quite as long to prepare it, there was still a greater chance of safety by our being so far forward upon the vessel. If the powder had exploded there would have been a chance of our not being blown to atoms. The after-part of the vessel might be shivered in pieces, and, of course, the rest would soon sink; but still, by keeping out by the head, there were many chances in our favour. It was from these considerations that the sailor had hurried away from amidships, and set to making his raft at the bows. It was only intended as a temporary retreat – to enable us at the earliest moment to get beyond the circle of danger; and, should the men succeed in completing the larger structure, ours could afterward be brought alongside and joined on to it.

The large raft was completed as soon as our little one, and all hands had gone down upon it. As I returned on deck to strike up the hatch, I saw not a soul of the Pandora’s crew. They had all gone out of the vessel, and betaken themselves to the raft. From the deck I could not see either them or the raft – as the latter was still close in under the beam-ends of the barque.

As soon as I had got fairly down, my companion pushed off, and the next moment the great raft came under our view. Both it, and those who were on it, were seen as distinctly as though it had been daylight – for the burning vessel was no longer a combination of flame and smoke. Her whole quarter-deck, from the taffrail to the main-hatch, was enveloped in a bright flame that illumined the surface of the sea to the distance of miles. Under this light, we perceived the raft and the men standing or crouching upon it.

They had pushed off some ten or twelve yards from the side of the vessel, in order to be clear of the flames. There was another reason that induced them to get some distance away, and that was the fear that there might be powder aboard. Although no positive alarm had been given to that effect, there existed a doubt about the thing, and they were not without apprehensions. There were other men besides Brace who knew something, or had heard something, about the stolen keg, but who, not being certain about the matter, did not like to make known their suspicions. There might be powder yet; and it was, therefore, with a feeling of relief that all hands had sprung upon the raft, and got it out of the way of such dangerous contingency. No doubt it was this suspicion about the gunpowder that had influenced them all to exert themselves so strenuously in the work. So far as there was any danger from the flames, they might have continued on board a while longer – for it would still be many minutes, before the conflagration could extend forward and embrace the whole of the vessel.

The men had not stayed aboard a moment longer than was required for them to complete the necessary work; and, once on the water, they were seen to be working as anxiously as ever to push off the raft – as though they dreaded contact with the barque from some other cause than the danger of the fire.

This was in reality the case; for, now that the raft was fairly afloat, those who suspected the presence of gunpowder were heard freely declaring their suspicions; and all stood looking upon the conflagration with eyes of expectancy – expecting every moment to hear an explosion!

It was just at that moment that Brace and I, passing round the larboard-bow, came in sight of the crew; and, without a moment’s hesitation, my companion using the oar, and I doing what I could with a handspike, set our little raft in motion, directing it as well as we could towards the other – with which we supposed in a few seconds we should be able to come up.

In this, however, we were disappointed. Just then we observed a strange movement among the men on the raft, who, after standing for some seconds in attitudes that betokened surprise, and with voices and gestures that confirmed it, were seen hastily renewing their efforts to put themselves at a still greater distance from the wreck; and not only hastily, but in a manner that bespoke some degree of terror!

What could this mean? Surely the flames could not reach them now? Surely they were beyond all danger from an explosion of gunpowder – even had there been a hundred barrels instead of one? The blowing up of a whole magazine could not have harmed them at that distance off? Surely it was not this that was exciting them?

I first looked to Brace for explanation, but his actions, at the moment, were as mysterious as any. He was on the forward part of our little craft, kneeling upon the planks and using his oar in the manner of a paddle. I saw that he was endeavouring to direct our course towards the raft; so as I with the handspike; but my companion, instead of working leisurely and deliberately – as he had hitherto been doing – was now rowing with all the haste and strength he could put into his arms – as if he was in dread that the raft would get away from us, and was doing his utmost to overtake her!

He had said nothing as yet; but I could see his features distinctly under the brilliant light, and the expression upon them, as well as the earnest endeavours he was making to increase our speed, convinced me that he, too was under some feeling of terror.

Was it the fear of being left behind by those on the raft? No; it could not be that; for, though neither was going faster than a cat could swim we were evidently making better speed than they; and it was plain we were getting nearer them at every stroke of the paddle. The great raft, indeed, lay like what it was – a raft of logs; and, although the men had oars, it was only with great difficulty it could be pushed along, and moved slowly and heavily through the water. Why should Brace be at all uneasy about our overtaking it?

But it was not that that was urging him to such haste. The conjecture only held possession of my thoughts for an instant. In the next instant I perceived the cause of terror. I saw what alarmed both my companion and the crew upon the raft.

Chapter Fifty Six

Up to that instant I had not looked back towards the burning barque. I would rather not have done so. I dreaded to look back; moreover, I was so eagerly employed in helping to propel our floating plank that I had scarce time for looking around.

Now, however, I was constrained to raise my head and glance back upon that terrific spectacle. It explained at once why the crew of the Pandora were so eager to be gone from the spot.

The fire had burned forward to the stump of the main-mast, and, fed by the large quantities of black pitchy ropes – the shrouds, stays, and ratlines – was sending up strong bursts of smoky flame. Red tongues were shooting out forward, as if to grasp the rigging of the fore-mast that still stood untouched. But the most singular, or rather the most awful, part of the scene was that presented on the foredeck and the whole forward part of the ship. Upon the windlass, the bulwarks, the fore-mast shrouds, around the head, and out to the bowsprit-end, was a continuous swarm of human forms, so thickly clustered that scarce any part of the vessel could be seen, except the fore-mast, with its spars and rigging towering high above. Five hundred there were – perhaps not so many – as some of them, happily for themselves, had gone out of the world before that dread hour. But nearly five hundred there were, and of course they covered every part of the forward deck, and even the sides and bulwarks, from the selvage of the approaching flames to the bowsprit-end. Some had gone out even farther, and could be seen swarming like bees and balancing their bodies on the jib-boom. In fact, but for its awful character, the scene suggested the hiving of bees that had crowded every leaf and twig upon the branch of a tree.