Ocean Haven
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The wind had swung about to the west in the night, and as the sun rose the ship began to heave up into the sea; but her speed was good and she made seven knots before noon, and at last, a couple of hours later, they saw the land. It lay low upon a steep coast, rising from the water like a wall.
She had been steering for what seemed an hour without sighting it; then suddenly there was a glimpse of it—and the captain hailed: ‘Land ho!’
A cheer went up from the passengers, for many were tired of being in motion after more than a week at sea. Captain Mowat looked around him on his deck to see how they stood and smiled with satisfaction when he found that the men who had been most troublesome the night before appeared to be sleeping quietly now.
Then he turned to his second officer. ‘How do we stand, Mr. Balfour?’ He was pleased to find himself not so much out of temper this morning as yesterday, though the cause of his anger was still present; indeed, if anything it grew worse.
‘We have no great difficulty here,’ said Mr. Balfour, glancing up at the sails and at the ship’s figurehead, which showed a woman holding a baby in her arms.
‘Well, I don’t think you have,’ answered the captain. ‘But if you had any difficulty I should be sorry, for I wish you to understand what is coming, and to remember that you are only one man.’ The young fellow did not seem to hear him, so he repeated the words slowly in order that Mr. Balfour might take them down in writing.
When he was satisfied that the orders were all correctly written down he handed them to the officer. ‘You may give these orders to the chief mate.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Mr. Balfour walked aft, where the men were busy with their work. At first, they stared at him in surprise, but they soon recovered themselves and returned his greeting. As he passed the quarterdeck, Lieutenant Mowat called to him: ‘Come on, Balfour! Where do you think you’re going?’
‘To get my papers, sir.’
‘And what’s that got to do with me?’
‘I’ll tell you, sir. If I am to go up on deck I must have those orders.’
The lieutenant glared at him angrily. ‘You know quite well you are not to go up there till we are clear of danger.’
‘That’s so, sir, yes.’
‘And who do you think gave you leave to come forward?’
‘No one, sir. I asked to get my orders and the captain sent me up.’
The lieutenant turned away and went back into his cabin, leaving Mr. Balfour standing there looking after him with the orders in his hand. But presently, finding the officers below, he put them carefully in his pocket and went out on deck. The captain was walking along by himself, evidently thinking deeply.
Mr. Balfour came up to him and saluted him. ‘Good morning, Mr. Balfour!’
‘Good morning, sir.’
‘I trust the ship will go fast enough. It’s a stiff westerly.’
‘Yes, sir. We’re getting good pace.’
‘You are a steady sailor, and I shall keep you.’ The captain spoke pleasantly. Then he turned away to look at the horizon again.
Mr. Balfour watched him, wondering at his manner; for the man had not spoken to him as usual. He felt puzzled because he wanted to know what was troubling him so much. He glanced over at Mr. Maclaren and saw that he too was silent, but the other was watching Mr. Mowat with eyes fixed on him.
There was something queer about the captain, something that was disturbing to Mr. Balfour’s mind; but he could not understand it.
When he left the ship he told Mr. Maclaren what he had seen, but the man merely smiled as though it was only natural that Mr. Mowat should be so irritable.
As the day advanced, the wind freshened, and the waves rose higher on each side. The sea began to break on the ship’s stern. The crew, seeing their chance for restlessness, made haste to change places with their mates, so that when the ship struck, as it would very soon do, all hands would be ready to run for the rail.
But they could not get near it. The swell was so high that even as the foremast cracked, the ship’s course changed to the northward, and she continued to heave up on the sea, rolling violently as she rode on the heavy swell. For hours the ship rolled like a ball upon the waters, and at last, she has driven ashore.
***
It seemed as though the whole world were on fire as the sun rose above the horizon, and the sky turned to molten copper-colored red. The sea was boiling over the decks, and the foam ran in streams down the sides of the ship.
The crew, half stunned with fatigue and fear, stood dazed in their places, staring helplessly at the destruction all around them. They were unable to make any attempt to save themselves until their attention was called to what was happening on board the ship.
The men looked at each other in bewilderment. One cried aloud, ‘My God, what’s happened?’ Another cried, ‘She’s gone to pieces, lads! She’s fallen apart—she’s broken up! The masts are gone! Look at those splinters! And the yard is split in two—look at the jib—look!’
Some of the men rushed forward from the waist and jumped into the water before the ship had sunk entirely, and others swarmed up the masts, which were still upright, and began to drag away the sails and rigging. But some of the seamen who knew nothing of boats did not see the necessity of saving themselves.
A few of the hands remained on deck and were killed by the falling debris of the mast as the ship broke up on the rocks. Others lay senseless or injured among the wreckage as the men hauled out the guns and then ran across the deck carrying them into the sea, so that when the ship sank there was no time wasted.
Then there came a shout: ‘Look there—the mate has found his boat!’
A boat was lowered into the water, and in it were five seamen. One of them shouted excitedly, ‘Come on! Come on!’ The seamen scrambled in and pulled hard against the current.
They rowed for an hour, with the wind behind them, but at length, they were swept by the tide past where they had left their comrades. Then one of them cried out that another boat was coming after them, and the five men in the first boat saw a second vessel approaching.
They could see no one in it, and they had to wait in suspense till they drew close enough to hail it. Then a voice answered from within the boat, and a man stepped out towards them. He was a dark-skinned Negro. When he came to the gunwale he raised both hands above his head, shouting joyously in a strange tongue.
His companions cheered him lustily, and the seamen who were clinging to the sides of the boats joined in the shout, for they knew that this was a sign of triumph. They had been rescued!
In the meantime, the mate had got into a third boat, which was following the first one closely. As she neared the shore, he ordered her crew to take in sail and anchor, but they obeyed him without knowing why. They took in the main topsail and then dropped it slowly.
They were going to let go of all the spanker sheets when there came a terrific explosion from below, and they found themselves hurled forward over the gunwales as though they had hit the deck hard. In their fright, the crew forgot all about letting go of the sail and instead worked hard with their oars to keep themselves afloat.
The captain, sitting in the stern with Mr. Maclaren, looked back at the destruction of his ship, and said to himself, ‘What a wreck she must be now!’
He could not have said how long the ship floated before she finally sank beneath the surface of the water. She sank slowly at first, and then disappeared rapidly, like a piece of lead being drawn through a pewter cup.
At last, even the sound of the waves striking against her timbers was heard; and then there was silence. The men in the boats watched anxiously as the waves receded to reveal the white sands of the beach. There was nothing to show that the ship had ever existed.
Mr. Maclaren and the captain stood gazing at the wreckage of the ship, and then they went over to the shore and waded ashore together.
On the beach were two boats that had arrived shortly after the ship had gone down, and a large crowd of people had gathered to help rescue those who had been washed overboard. Amongst these were many Negroes, who were working hard side by side with the whites to pull out men who were clinging to the wreckage of the ship. It was soon evident that very few of the seamen had survived. Most of those who were picked up alive had broken limbs or deep cuts on their bodies, and there were several cases where a man had died almost instantly of suffocation when his clothes had filled with seawater.
When Maclaren and the captain reached the shore they walked among the men helping the injured and then turned to look at what had become of their vessel. A few of the boats were standing on the sand.
These contained all those seamen who had managed to get to shore and were now returning to their ship. In another boat, some of the passengers, most of whom had been saved, were returning, while in a third boat Captain Flint was taking his wife, Miss Flint, and Mr. Maclaren ashore.
Mr. Flint stopped beside the captain and said in a low tone, ‘I’m sorry to hear you lost your ship.’
The captain shrugged his shoulders. He did not reply immediately. He seemed preoccupied. Then he said, ‘It’s a bad business, sir. I suppose we can’t get off any of the cargo?’
‘We’ll have to try,’ answered Mr. Flint. ‘But we may as well make a start now if you’re ready.’
They got into a boat and rowed slowly back to the wreck. The tide was still high, so they managed to find a way between the wreckage and the edge of the sea, where there was a sandy beach. There they tied their boat to a tree and went into the wreck with their arms full of boxes of provisions.
The passengers and the crew of the other boat helped them. It was not difficult to locate the stores; and in ten minutes they had recovered nearly a ton of biscuits and a hundred gallons of fresh water, besides a few casks containing spirits and wine. These would be useful in the future, as long as they lasted.
There were a number of small boats moored alongside the wreck. One of these contained several barrels marked ‘Sardine’, but the captain thought this was too dangerous to use, as it might carry the poison of the Spanish mackerels.
On the other hand, they discovered a large boat filled with barrels and casks marked ‘Bourbon’. They decided this was the best thing to take with them. They filled up five barrels and put them in the hold of the ship. The captain told his mate to get some men to unload them. As soon as he left them, Mr. Flint said to the captain, ‘Now for our share of the treasure.’
‘What is yours?’ asked the captain, turning round quickly.
The captain was astonished that Mr. Flint should have been the first to suggest it; and even more surprised at hearing him say in a serious voice that he meant to go alone; that Mr Maclaren could not leave the survivors and come with them. This was an odd request to make of a man who had just rescued him; yet it made sense, for if anyone knew where the gold coins were hidden it was Mr Flint.
In spite of this, Captain Flint felt uncomfortable about it. He did not want to go with Mr. Flint alone. Yet he could not refuse; because he did not know where the gold coins were hidden. And so, reluctantly, he agreed.
‘Very good, sir,’ said Mr. Flint, with a smile. ‘Let us go.’
As they stepped out from under the shadow of the wreck, they saw that two of the boats were returning with men who had escaped from the wreck. They came towards them, and the captain and Mr. Flint walked across the beach to meet them.
When they reached the boats they found the passengers who had survived the disaster already on board. They looked exhausted and shaken but were able to give a rough account of how the ship had sunk. The captain listened closely to what each man had to say.
A number of things puzzled him, particularly one thing which seemed peculiarly important. When he heard that some of the crew had jumped overboard and swum ashore, instead of trying to swim for a boat as they ought to have done, he was surprised and asked why they had done so.
None of the men volunteered any explanation. All were silent except one young seaman who was very frightened and seemed in a hurry to get away. At last, he told the captain that he had seen one of the Frenchmen swimming after him, and he feared he would kill him. So, when he heard the ship was going down, he threw himself off.
He was not hurt or even badly chilled, although it was a bitterly cold day and he had been without food for three days. But the fact that none of the other members of his crew joined him suggested to the captain that something unusual had taken place. He asked no further questions for fear of alarming the others.
By now it was growing dark; so Captain Flint ordered the men to set sail for St Mary’s. As they rowed through the water the captain turned to Mr. Maclaren and said in a low tone, ‘That man who was swimming – do you think he saw anything? Perhaps we had better ask him.’
‘I will,’ answered Mr. Maclaren. ‘You go on ahead and tell me what he says.’
Captain Flint did not look happy as he watched Mr. Maclaren walk across the sand. He wished the fellow was not such a friend of the captain of that other ship, or of Mr. Maclaren himself.
For, of course, if the two captains became friendly again it was likely to cause trouble, particularly as Mr. Maclaren had been in the habit of talking about his adventures with Captain Flint and of asking him questions, many of which were difficult to answer.
But he had to admit that the young sailor’s story did seem curious, and there was no doubt that he was frightened. The captain felt he must talk to him, for if he failed to do so it might be assumed later that he did not wish to know.
So when Mr. Maclaren returned to his side he said in a whisper, ‘Did the fellow say anything of importance?’
Mr. Maclaren shook his head. ‘He was in a terrible state; he wanted to get away at once.’
‘And you did not press him?’
‘No, I thought better of it. But there is another question which occurred to me.’
‘Yes? What is it?’
‘How did he happen to be the only one who jumped into the water? That is odd.’
‘It is,’ said Captain Flint, nodding.
They rowed on silently until Mr. Maclaren broke the silence. ‘There are two possible explanations.
One is that the other sailors were all too terrified by the danger to follow their brave leader, or else – and here I am beginning to wonder whether I have misjudged this lad – they were so much afraid of one of those murderous Frenchmen that they preferred to die rather than let themselves be captured.
Now I think you may be right: it does sound very queer. But we must wait until we reach St Mary’s before we can investigate this further. Come along now, we will soon be there.’
On reaching St Mary’s the first thing that interested Captain Flint was to see how many of the men had managed to save themselves from the wreck; then he made inquiries concerning the cargo and passenger lists. This was difficult work since most of the survivors were half-drowned, weak from hunger and exposure, and too exhausted to talk coherently.
Some of them were suffering from sea sickness, and it was clear they would not live long, so Captain Flint sent two of the seamen back with orders that the rest should be given plenty to eat and drink, and put ashore on a sheltered stretch of land where they could lie down and rest. He also gave orders that no one was to be allowed on deck until daylight.
The two men returned to tell him that they had found no one alive on board the brig. They had discovered the body of a man who appeared to have fallen overboard when the ship went down, and they saw the bodies of several other men lying close to the mainmast.
A few minutes later a couple of women came out of the village to tell Captain Flint that the two seamen had seen the body of a young fellow near the beach, but they had not gone any nearer than that because they feared there was something wrong with the dead man and did not want to touch him.
‘What was wrong with him?’ asked the captain.
The women hesitated, then one of them said hesitantly, ‘His face… it looked as though he had been shot.’
Captain Flint knew well that some people were superstitious about these things, especially when someone they cared for had died suddenly. It was possible that the sailors’ fears had led them astray. Still, he did not like it. So he ordered the two sailors to return at once and report what they had seen.
They went up the coast towards St Michael’s Point, and as they reached the headland Captain Flint stopped to make sure that there were no signs of life in the little cove below.
The place was empty of everything except the remains of the ship and a few fragments of wreckage drifting far out to sea; even the gulls were hiding in the rocks, although they were obviously hungry enough to come closer and peck at scraps of fish caught by the crew.
The two sailors were surprised; they had expected to find a lot more living beings on shore, for it seemed incredible that everyone on board the ship should have perished at once.
‘But what was the poor bastard doing so far from home?’ said one of them, scratching his head.
‘Who knows?’ replied the other. ‘We’d best go back and report.’
When they had finished reporting they walked back to where the captain was standing. He pointed to the ship. ‘You have seen that the brig has gone down completely, and all aboard her have perished?’
‘Yes, sir,’ answered the two men. ‘I hope none of them were friends of yours.’
Captain Flint smiled at this remark. ‘No, not mine; however, I am sorry to have lost them all.’ Then he added, ‘It must have been quite an unpleasant death for those poor fellows in their hammocks, for the waves must have washed over the stern while the brig was going down.
And it is strange that no one else managed to get away. There is something very odd about the whole affair.’
As they were talking, they heard voices coming from below the cliff behind them. They turned around and saw two women walking slowly up to them, one holding the hand of a small child.
‘Captain Flint?’ said one of them. ‘Are you Captain Flint?’
The two seamen stood aside; the captain stepped forward and shook hands with the women. ‘Why, yes, I am Captain Flint,’ he replied.
‘My name is Margaret. This is my sister Jane, and this is our son John. We are very glad to meet you, for your name was spoken of often during the past week, ever since the ship came to anchor. But we thought perhaps you might not remember us.’
‘Certainly, I do. How could I forget? When your ship came here, it was my duty to take charge of the passengers, for there was no one else available who could speak English. However, I had never met you before and had no idea who you were, and you certainly would not remember me unless I told you my name.
You see, when I was appointed to be the captain of the brig, it was only because I was in command of the ship that brought you here—the brig that was wrecked off St Mary’s Island.’
‘Oh!’ said the women together.
‘Yes. My God! That’s how we met. And now, after many years, I have finally found you again, and you have brought your little boy, John, with you!’
‘That’s right,’ said one of the women quietly, with a sad smile. ‘John is just as he was when you last saw him—still as quiet as a mouse, with hardly a word to say. He still won’t play or laugh. I can’t make him cry either, even if it hurts him.’
‘Is that so bad?’ asked Captain Flint, looking at the lad affectionately. ‘Perhaps he is not like other boys. Perhaps he will grow up to be a great man.’
‘And maybe he won’t,’ said the woman. ‘There are times when I am almost ready to give up hope and throw him into the sea.’
The End