Within the Capes

About two bells in the first watch Captain Knight gave orders that the ship should be put about, and running two points free on the starboard tack, stood off to the S.E.

This, as has been said, was one of the narrowest shaves that Tom Granger ever had for his life, and as long as he shall remember anything he will never forget that half-minute when the British frigate was coming down upon them under full sail, with death at the helm.

CHAPTER VII

THE next morning, when Tom came upon deck, he found that the wind had increased to half a gale. It was a dreary sight. The sky was heavy and leaden, and the sea was like liquid lead, for, when the sky is dull, like it was that morning, it seems as though one could almost walk over the surface of the ocean, so hard does it look, and so lacking of depth, excepting where the crest of the wave sharpens just before it breaks.

The Nancy Hazlewood showed that she was a very wet ship, for her decks were covered with water, that ran swashing from side to side. She would roll well over on her side, like a log, and scoop in the top of a wave, that would rush backward and forward across the deck until it had run out of the scupper holes; but before it was fairly gone another sea would come, so that the decks were never free of water. Not only was the ship laboring strangely, but she was yawing so that two men at the wheel could hardly keep her to her course.

Jack was standing on the poop, anxious and troubled. Tom stood beside him, but neither of them spoke for a while, both being sunk in deep thought.

“Tom,” said Jack, at last, in a low voice, “I’ve sailed in a many ships in my time, but I never saw one behave like this. She bothers me; I don’t know what to make of her.” He paused for a moment, and then he clapped his hand to his thigh. “D – n it,” said he, “she ain’t either equipped or stowed in a fit way. She ought never to have put out from Lewestown Harbor in her condition, and, without I’m much mistaken, we’ll find that out long before we reach Key West.”

Then he turned over the orders and went below to get his breakfast, leaving Tom in charge of the deck.

The day passed without especial event, and that night at the mid-watch Tom turned in to get a little sleep. It seemed to him that he had hardly closed his eyes when he was aroused by the sound of the boatswain’s voice ringing, as it were, in his very ears:

“All hands reef topsails!”

Tom tumbled out of his bunk and stood on the cabin floor. There was a noise of pounding and grinding alongside, and the decks were careened, so that the first thought that occurred to him was that the ship was foundering. He ran up on deck without stopping a moment, for there was a vibration in the boatswain’s voice that told him that something serious had befallen.

The gale had increased with a sudden and heavy squall, and the maintop-gallant-mast had gone by the board. It was hanging alongside, a tangled wreck, and it was the thumping and grinding of this that Tom had heard when he had first opened his eyes. A dozen men were at work cutting away the wreck, and Tom jumped to help them. At last it drifted away astern, a tangled mass on the surface of grey foam.

All around them were seas, ten or fifteen feet high, shining with phosphorescent crests, moving solemnly forward with their black weight of thousands of tons of solid water. Amongst these the little ship labored like a living thing in pain. The men ran up aloft, and Jack, trumpet to mouth, bellowed orders that rang above all the thunder of the gale. Presently the sails were clapping and thundering in the darkness above, as the men wrestled with them. Now and then voices were to be heard through all the roaring of the waters and the howling of the wind: “Haul out to windward!” and “Light out to leeward!” – an uproar of noises that one never hears excepting on shipboard, and at such a time.

Day broke with the storm blowing as furiously as ever. Tom was officer of the deck, when, about ten o’clock, Maul, the carpenter, came aft to where he was standing. He was a fine-looking fellow, broad-shouldered and deep-chested. He chucked his thumb up to his forehead, and, shifting the quid of tobacco from one cheek to the other, told Tom that which sent a thrill shivering through him:

“Ten inches of water in the well, sir.”

The pumps sucked at five inches, so the Nancy Hazlewood had made five inches of water in the last hour.

“I was afraid it would come,” said Tom to himself, and then he went and reported it to the captain, for, though the leak was not of much account as regarded size, it was as dangerous as it was sudden.

“Man the pumps, sir,” was all that the captain said.

Before very long the pumps sucked, and the men gave a cheer. So far all was well enough. But an hour afterward the carpenter came aft and reported that there was a little less than thirteen inches of water in the well. Captain Knight, and Tom, and Jack were standing near together on the poop at the time.

“Man the pumps,” was all that the captain said, and then he moved away.

“Jack,” said Tom, in a low voice, “this looks ugly.”

“You’re right; it does,” said Jack.

There was a cold, dull rain blowing slantwise across the ocean at that time, which shut in everything to within a mile or two of the ship. The gale had moderated but little, but now, through all the roaring, you could hear the regular thump, thump of the pumps, where two lines of men were working at the brakes. Every now and then the sound of the pumping would stop with the sucking of water, but presently it would begin again – thump! thump! thump! thump! When evening came the sound was unceasing, for at that time they were not pumping the water out of the ship as fast as she was making it.

The last thing that Tom heard that night was the continuous thumping, and it was the first thing that met his ears when he opened his eyes again. He went up on deck, and when he looked around him his heart fell within him. Half of the maintop-sail was blown away, the shreds standing straight out with the force of the wind. There was a great deal of water on the deck – perhaps never less than three feet on the lee side.

She was not taking much water over the weather rail, but she would take it to leeward, and then roll to windward, and the sea would go rushing across the deck, carrying everything before it.

That afternoon he stood on the poop deck looking over the side of the vessel. She was rolling with a dull, heavy motion from side to side; it was just such a motion as a log in a mill pond will take if you give it a push with your foot. He looked first astern, and then forward, and he saw that the stern was deeper in the water than the bows. Just then he felt a hand on his shoulder; he looked up and saw that it was Jack Baldwin.

“Tom,” said he, in a low voice.

“What is it, Jack?”

“I’ve been looking too; do you know that the ship’s foundering?”

Tom nodded his head, for he did not feel like speaking.

“Tom,” said Jack, after a moment of silence; “what do you suppose is the reason that Captain Knight don’t give orders to have the boats cleared away, ready for lowering.”

“Perhaps he don’t think it’s time; the ship’ll last a good while longer yet, Jack.”

“Do you think that’s his reason, Tom?” said Jack.

Tom did not answer.

“I see you don’t. Look here, Tom; do you want to know what I’m beginning to think? It’s this, —that he don’t intend to let a man leave this ship, if he can’t bring her to Key West!”

“For God’s sake, don’t breathe a word of that in the men’s hearing, Jack. You can’t believe what you say.”

“What did Captain Sedgwick do last November?”

Tom did not answer; he knew that story only too well. Captain Sedgwick, of the privateersman Mirabel, had fallen in with a British cruiser off Barnegat; had been crippled by her, and had blown up his ship and all hands on board, so that she might not fall into the Englishman’s hands. Three men out of one hundred and eighteen had come off with their lives.

“For heaven’s sake, Jack, don’t breathe a word of this to the crew!” said Tom again, and then he turned away.

As the day wore along, things looked more and more gloomy.

About three o’clock in the afternoon a sound fell on their ears, that thrilled through every man on board. It was the voice of the lookout, roaring, – “Sail ho!”

“Where away?” sang out Jack.

“Two points on the port bow,” came the answer.

Most of the crew ran to the side of the vessel, as did the men at the brakes. Tom did not order them back, for he saw that there would be no use in doing so.

As the day had worn along, the discipline of the ship had begun to go pretty much to pieces, and there had been great difficulty in keeping the men at the brakes. I think that they, like Jack and Tom, had gotten a notion that the ship was doomed, for, though they worked when they were ordered, it was in a dull, stolid way, as though they had no interest in it one way or another. Tom had tried to do all that lay in him to keep them going, and I think that it was only through his urging that they were kept at it at all.

So now they all left the pumps and ran to the side of the vessel to get a look at the sail.

At first it was seen like a flickering speck in the dull, grey distance, but it presently rose higher and higher as the Nancy Hazlewood held on her course. Jack Baldwin was on the poop when the vessel was first sighted; he did not lose a moment, but went straightway and reported it to the captain, who presently came upon deck from his cabin. He had wound a red scarf about his waist, and had thrust a brace of large pistols in it. There was an odd look about him, that at first led Tom to think that he had been drinking, but he soon found that he was wrong. Whatever it was that had led him to rig himself up in this style, it was not drink.

He stood silently with the glass at his eye, looking at the distant sail that the Nancy Hazlewood was slowly raising above the horizon. He did not seem to notice that the men had left the pumps; at least he made no remark upon it. Minute after minute passed, until at last the hull of the vessel hove in sight and showed her to be a large barque – apparently, from the cut of her sails, an English merchantman. She came within about three miles of them, but Captain Knight neither gave orders to have the course of the Hazlewood altered, or signals of distress run up. Every moment Tom expected to hear such an order, but none passed the captain’s lips. Presently, he shut the tube of the glass sharply, and then he spoke.

“She’s too large for us to tackle in our present condition,” said he.

“Tackle!” burst out Jack. “My G – d! You didn’t think of fighting that vessel, did you?”

Captain Knight turned sharply upon him, as though he were about to say something; but he seemed to think better of it, for he swung on his heel, as though to enter his cabin again.

Then Jack Baldwin strode directly up to him. “Captain Knight,” said he, and he did not so much as touch his hat, “a’n’t you going to signal that vessel?”

His voice rang like a bell, and every man aboard of the sinking ship heard it, and listened eagerly for the captain’s answer. Captain Knight stood where he was, and looked Jack from top to toe, and back again.

“No, sir,” said he, coldly, “I am not going to signal that vessel.”

“Do you mean to say that you’re going to drown every man aboard this ship, as you might a cage full of rats, just because you’re too proud to signal an Englishman.”

Captain Knight made no answer; he only looked at Jack and smiled, and Tom Granger thought that it was as wicked a smile as he had ever seen in all of his life.

“Now, by the eternal,” roared Jack, “I’ll run the signals up myself!”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Captain Knight. He spoke very quietly, but his face was as white as the other’s was red.

“Won’t I? That you’ll see,” said Jack, passionately, and he made a movement to turn.

“Wait a moment, sir,” said the captain, in his quiet voice. But the words were hardly out of his mouth, when, as quick as a flash, a pistol was leveled at Jack’s head, with a pair of wicked grey eyes behind it.

There was a dead pause for about as long as you could count ten; the captain’s finger lay on the trigger, and every instant Tom expected to see the flash that was to come. He held his breath, for there was death in the captain’s eyes, but he did not draw the trigger.

It was Tom that broke the silence. “For God’s sake, don’t shoot, captain,” cried he, from where he stood. The captain did not seem to hear him.

“You mutinous scoundrel,” said he at last, “down on your knees and ask pardon!”

Jack did not move.

“You hear me? Down on your knees and ask pardon, or you’re a dead man!”

He spoke as quietly as ever, but there was a deadly ring in his voice for all that.

“I’ll give you till I count three,” said he, at last, and then he began to count, “one, – two – ”

Jack looked around, with despair in his eyes. The captain smiled. “Stand where you are,” said he, and then his teeth and tongue began to form the “th – ”

Jack Baldwin was no coward; but would you yourself have stood still and be shot down like a dog? It would have been a brave man indeed – a foolishly brave man – that would have done such a thing. I will not tell the rest. It is enough to say that Jack did do that which the captain ordered him, and that before the whole ship’s company.

“You are wise,” said Captain Knight, dryly, and then he thrust the pistol back again into his belt, and, turning on his heel, went into his cabin.

Jack got up slowly from his knees. His face was haggard and drawn. He looked at no one, but went to the side of the ship and stood gazing into the water. Tom saw him a half an hour afterward, standing just in the same way, and in the same place.

When the captain had gone into his cabin, Tom turned to the pumps again. “Shake her up! – your eyes! Shake her up!” roared he.

It was the first time that he ever used an oath to the men under him, and it is hard to tell why he used it then, for in his heart he did not believe that he was long for this life. Then the men fell to pumping again, but what little life they had left was all gone out of them now.

CHAPTER VIII

THAT evening Tom took a scrambling meal in the cuddy; it was the last that he had aboard of the Nancy Hazlewood.

The darkness came on early, and the wind still held as heavy as ever when night fell. At that time the ship was very low in the water astern, and Tom did not expect her to live till morning. Even to this day it is a mystery to him why she did not founder long before she did.

It was plain that even the sailors themselves felt that there was no hope; they were dull, lifeless and spiritless. Those who were not working at the pumps, stood around the forecastle, or lay in their hammocks; all were quiet, excepting where one or two were talking together in low tones.

Of course, there was no sleep to be had for Tom that night. He had stood by the pumps since early in the morning, and was nearly exhausted, for there were times when he could feel the water washing around his waist. One after another the men would drop the brakes, altogether done up, but there was no chance for him to leave his station and get a little rest. Jack had done nothing since his encounter with Captain Knight, the afternoon before. Captain Knight himself did not come out of his cabin, so Tom seemed to be the only officer in charge of the ship.

“Shake her up, lads! Shake her up!” cried he, whenever there were signs of flagging at the pumps, and he repeated these words so often that he began to say them mechanically.

So the weary night dragged slowly along, and at last the dull light of the morning came, and the Nancy Hazlewood was still afloat. One by one the things stood out in the pallid light of the dawning; first of all the black troubled field of water was seen, sharply marked against the slowly greying sky; then came a faint light across the flooded deck, against which the men stood out as black as ink, as they worked at the pumps.

About eight o’clock in the morning Captain Knight came upon deck again. He, Jack Baldwin, Mr. Wilde (the surgeon), the boatswain and one or two of the men were standing on the poop together. No attention was paid to these men standing aft the quarter deck, and Tom could not see that any orders were given, for the helm was lashed, keeping the vessel before the wind.

Tom left the pumps for a minute or two, and slipped into the cuddy for a dram of rum, which he very much needed. He found that the cuddy was awash with several inches of water. He took the dram of rum, and then looking around his state room he saw his sea-chest, and opened it and took out his watch and purse. He slipped the watch into his pocket, but the ship giving a sudden lurch at the time, he dropped his purse. He smiled when he found himself groping in the swashing water for it, for he could not take it with him where he expected that he would have to go.

The men had left the pumps when he came upon deck again. A crowd of them were standing foreward, some on the top-gallant forecastle. There was no drunkenness amongst them, and Tom found later that the spirit-room had been fastened securely, and in good time, which was about the only timely thing that was done in the whole business. He did not order them to work again, for there could be no use in it. Indeed, there had been but little use in it for some time past, and the only reason that he had kept the pumps going was because it seemed better to be doing something than to stand still, waiting for death. But Captain Knight gave no orders to lower the boats, and Jack Baldwin did not seem to care whether they were lowered or not.

At this time there were only two boats left. The whale-boat had been stove in the night before, and all of the cutters were gone but one. A part of one of them was hanging by the stern falls from the davits. The mate to it was good, however, and, with a pinnace, capable of holding maybe thirty men at a pinch, was all that was left of the six boats that the Nancy Hazlewood had carried with her when she first started on her cruise.

Tom saw that there was no prospect of Captain Knight’s giving the order to have the boats cleared away, so he went aft to the poop, where the captain stood, and touched his hat to him very respectfully.

“Captain Knight,” said he, “the ship’s sinking, and I can’t keep the men at their work any longer. Shall I get the boats cleared away?”

“They won’t work, you say?”

“No, sir.”

The captain took a pinch of snuff. “Then let ’em drown, and be d – d to ’em – the mutinous dogs,” said he. And he shut the snuff-box lid with a snap.

“But, captain – ” began Tom.

“Mr. Granger,” said the captain, sternly, “I wish to hear no more. When I want to have the boats lowered I’ll give the orders, and not till then. You hear me?”

Tom turned away, sick at heart. He still hoped that the captain meant to have the boats cleared away, but in his heart he felt that he intended nothing of the kind. The men had gathered aft when they saw that Tom was talking to the captain. When they heard what came of it, a deep groan arose from them.

About half an hour passed, and nothing was done. At the end of that time a number of men who had been talking together, went over to the pinnace and began clearing it away, and Tom saw that they were about to lower it.

Nothing was said to them at the time, and no one interfered with them. He went forward to where they were at work, after a while, for he felt that he might be of some use to them. The boatswain was amongst them, and he asked him to join them, as they needed an officer. But Tom shook his head, for he could not bring himself to leave the ship. It was false pride on his part, for he should have gone and have done what he could. If Jack Baldwin would only have lent a hand with the other boat, he would not have hesitated, I think.

Well, it was a misfortunate piece of business, and there is no use in making more of it than need be. The boat was lowered safely enough; but, in spite of all that Tom could do, a number of the crew, maybe thirty or more, jumped into her from the ship, and she was swamped almost immediately. Most of the men came climbing back again; but, to the best of Tom’s recollection, eight or ten of them were drowned at this time. No one but he seemed to care very much for this; no doubt they felt that it was only a question of a few minutes, earlier or later.

When Tom went back to the poop, Captain Knight met him with a sneering smile. “You had better have let the matter alone, Mr. Granger,” said he; “their blood be on your head.”

Now, Tom had put all the restraint upon himself that he could. He had felt all the blunders and mismanagement that had brought them to this pass as deeply as ever Jack Baldwin could have done, and had also felt that most of the fault lay at Captain Knight’s door, but he had never been anything but respectful to the captain, nor had he ever let a questionable word pass his lips. But now, feeling the loss of the poor devils that had been drowned in the pinnace resting heavily on his mind, this speech was too much for his patience. He walked straight up to Captain Knight and looked him squarely in the eyes.

The captain looked back at him for a little while, but presently his eyes wavered, and he turned them aside. Then it was that a certain vague thought that had been floating about in Tom’s mind, took shape and form. At first he rejected the thought, but the longer he looked upon Captain Knight the more he felt sure that his surmise was right. At last he spoke:

“Look here, sir,” said he, sternly, “you’re not fit to be where you are. You’re not in your right mind – you’re crazy.”

Captain Knight looked up. His face was white and his eyes uncertain, and, for the first time, Tom noticed how bloodshot they were. Tom was standing within arm’s length of him, and presently he saw that his fingers were sliding furtively toward the pistol in his belt. Tom kept his eyes fixed upon him.

“Take care,” said he, as quietly as he could, “don’t touch that pistol.”

Then Captain Knight drew his fingers away. “You mutinous scoundrel!” whispered he, in a trembling voice. But he did not look directly at Tom when he spoke; neither did he again attempt to draw a pistol.

Tom stood looking at him without a word for maybe half a minute. He felt that if he turned his eyes away for so much as a second, he was a dead man. So he stood without moving. At last he spoke again:

“Captain Knight, give me that pistol.”

The captain looked from side to side.

“Captain Knight, give me that pistol,” he repeated, and very sternly. He held out his left hand as he spoke. His right was clenched, and if the captain had made a dangerous movement, he would have smitten him down where he stood. Captain Knight looked up for an instant. He must have seen the resolve in Tom’s face, for he slowly drew out the pistol and put it into his hand.

“Now give me the other,” said Tom. And once more the captain did as he was bidden. Tom went to the side of the ship and threw both pistols overboard. When he turned around the captain had gone into his cabin. Tom never saw him again.

It was not till all was over that he felt what he had passed through. So long as he had faced the captain his purpose had kept him braced to what he was doing, but now his hands were cold and trembling nervously.

All of the ship’s crew had been looking on at what had passed, so he tried to appear as cool as though nothing of any account had happened. He went up to where Jack Baldwin was standing. “Jack,” said he (but his voice trembled a little in spite of himself), “you’re the chief officer now. For the Lord’s sake, give orders to get the cutter cleared away, for there’s no time to lose.”

“I’ll give orders when I choose,” said Jack, roughly, and he swung on his heel and strode away.

Tom was struck all aback, for he could not think at first what he had done to touch Jack’s feelings. Presently Jack came back to him again. He stopped close in front of him, and folded his arms.

“Look’ee, Tom Granger,” said he, “I suppose you think that because you got the better of that d – d sea dandy, you can get the better of me. You needn’t think that you’re the cock-of-the-walk because you took the barkers away from him. I could have done it easy enough, if he hadn’t taken me unawares. I’ll not deny that you did get the better of him, but I want you to understand that you’re not to lord it over me on that account. I’m the chief officer here, and I’ll give my orders to you, and not take them from you. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.” Then he turned on his heel again and walked away.