Crown and Anchor Part 23

All of us grew excited again on hearing this news, hoping for the best; and as the cutter came closer, the captain, who could not restrain his impatience, hailed her!

"Boat, ahoy!" he sang out. "Have you got him?"

Charley Gilham, who was sitting in the sternsheets, with his head bent down, looked up on hearing the captain's call.

"No, sir," he hailed back. "Only his cap!"

The boat came alongside in silence, and the falls were hooked on; when, it was hoisted up to the davits slowly, the men hauling in a sort of spiritless way, as if saddened by the painful episode, while even the boatswain's pipe seemed to whistle in a subdued tone in the minor key!

On reaching the deck, the lieutenant came up to the captain with poor Popplethorne's cap, turning it over as he presented it to him to draw his attention to it.

It was torn and b.l.o.o.d.y on one side.

"The topman was right, sir, you see," he said to Captain Farmer. "He must have struck some part of the s.h.i.+p heavily when he fell from aloft before going overboard."

"Yes," replied the captain. "I see."

Just then, Mr Jellaby, who had gone forward in the meantime to see if there were any traces there of the accident, returned aft, looking more serious than I had ever seen him before.

"His head struck against one of the flukes of the sheet-anchor, sir," he reported to Captain Farmer who had sent him on the errand. "The bill of it, just abaft the fore-rigging to port, is now spattered with the poor little chap's brains. I wonder n.o.body observed it before, sir."

"He would, therefore, have been killed instantly and did not suffer any pain," said the captain. "Poor young fellow, poor young fellow! He was a most promising lad and always smart at his duty!"

"Trim sails!" cried out the commander at this juncture, in a voice husky with emotion; as if anxious to hide his feelings, now that the captain had p.r.o.nounced his requiem to the memory of our late s.h.i.+pmate. "Brace up the mainyard!"

At once our sails filled, when the s.h.i.+p was put upon her course again; and, the watch being then set, we all went below, the boatswain piping the hands down to supper, for it was nearly Three Bells and more than an hour after the usual time for that meal.

Naturally everybody in the gunroom was full of the accident, the fellows all thinking more of poor d.i.c.k Popplethorne when dead, for the moment at least, than they had ever done while he was living; and I, myself, could not help remembering the strange coincidence of his laughing over Mr Jellaby's yarn about the marine as we were sailing down Channel only a few days before and being especially merry over the young sentry's mistake in calling out "Dead boy" when the bell struck.

Poor chap, he was a dead boy now, indeed; although, he had been alive and as hearty and jolly as any of us that very afternoon down there at dinner in the mess.

It was almost incredible to recollect this! "I have just calculated,"

observed Mr Stormc.o.c.k amidst the general talk about our late messmate, as if stating a most important fact, "that the youngster fell overboard in lat.i.tude 48 degrees north, pretty nearly, and longitude 8 degrees 10 minutes west--a trifle to the westward of where we met that confounded Frenchman."

"I don't see how that information can be of any use to his friends, Stormc.o.c.k," said Mr Fortescue Jones, with a coa.r.s.e laugh. "We can't very well put up a tombstone over him in the Bay of Biscay."

"For shame, sir!" exclaimed little Tom Mills, who was huddled up crying in a corner of the gunroom, d.i.c.k Popplethorne having been an old home friend. "Don't make fun of the po-poor fellow now he's dead!"

"That's right, youngster," put in Mr Stormc.o.c.k. "Stick up for your friend. I didn't mean anything against him for a moment, for I always found him a good sort of chap; though, I can't say I had very much to do with him."

"Well, for my part, I won't say I'm sorry he has lost the number of his mess," said that brute Andrews. "He was as big a bully as Larkyns, and I don't owe him any good will, I can tell you."

"You cowardly cur!" exclaimed Tom Mills, his face flaming up, though the tears were still coursing down his cheeks. "You know you wouldn't say that if Larkyns were here now."

"Wouldn't I, cry babby?"

Tom did not reply to this in words; but he sent a telescope, that lay at the end of one of the tables near him, flying across the gunroom, catching Andrews a crack on his uplifted arm.

This saved his head, fortunately for him, Tom's shot being a vicious one and well aimed!

"What do you mean by that?" said the ill-natured brute. "Do you want to fight?"

"Not with you," rejoined Tommy, whose anger had conquered his grief, speaking with much dignity. "I only fight with gentlemen, and you're a sn.o.b! No gentleman would speak ill of those unable to defend themselves, or say a thing behind a fellow's back which he would not have the pluck to do when he was present. Andrews, you're a cad and a coward!"

"Stow that, youngster!" interposed Mr Stormc.o.c.k, as little Tommy rose up and made towards the cad, who, however, showed no inclination to resent the insult offered him. "I won't allow any quarrelling in the mess! If you want to fight, my boys, you must go into the steerage."

Andrews, I noticed, did not offer to stir, however, in response to this suggestion of the master's mate, which he would certainly have done if he had been possessed of an ounce of courage in his nature.

Tom and I both agreed on this when talking over the matter subsequently; so, seeing what a chicken-hearted fellow he was, my _c.o.c.ky_ little chum sat down again and began tucking into his tea, Andrews getting up presently and sneaking away when he thought the coast clear.

Mr Stormc.o.c.k proved to be a false prophet with regard to the foul weather that evening; for, when I went up on deck again to have a look round before turning in, although it was still blowing fresh from the westwards, the black cloud that had previously covered the sky had partly cleared away, leaving only a few fleecy flying ma.s.ses in its stead.

Between them the moon fitfully shone occasionally and an odd star or two peeped out here and there; while our good s.h.i.+p was bowling along under her topgallants, which had been set again by the commander over the double-reefed topsails, with her courses and jib and spanker, and the foretopmast staysail, continuing under the same canvas during the night, without hauling a sheet or tautening a brace, the wind hardly s.h.i.+fting half-a-point all the while.

We made such progress, too, towards the spot where the French s.h.i.+p reported having pa.s.sed the wreck of which we were in search, that, at Six Bells in the morning watch, the lookout man forward, who had been specially ordered to keep a good watch to windward, hailed the deck.

"Sail in sight, sir!" he sang out, just as the hands were in the middle of their breakfast. "She's hull down on the weather bow!"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

ON THE DECK OF THE DERELICT.

"Where away, my man?" shouted Commander Nesbitt, who, at the same moment, came up on the p.o.o.p and was scanning the horizon on his own account. "How does she bear, eh?"

"Two points off the weather bow, sir," replied the lookout from the foretopsail yard. "We're rising her now, sir; and I can see one of her masts, though the rest of her spars seem to have gone by the board."

"All right, my man, keep her in your eye," sang back the commander, who then turned to the helmsman. "Give her more lee helm, quartermaster; and see if you can't luff her up a couple of points! Watch, trim sails!

Head lee braces! Brace up your head yards!"

With this, we hauled our wind; and, by bracing the yards sharp up and keeping her full and bye, we were able to bring the s.h.i.+p's head a bit more to the westward than we had been previously sailing, steering now south-west by south instead of sou'-sou'-west as before, which was as near as we could get her to proceed in the direction where the lookout man had reported the vessel.

By Eight Bells, we could make out the derelict clearly from the deck; and, shortly after breakfast when we had closed her within half-a-mile, we could see that somehow or other she had got terribly knocked about, her bulwarks having been carried away, as well as most of her spars and rigging, only the stump of her mainmast being left still standing, with the yard, which had parted at the slings, hanging down all a-c.o.c.kbill.

There was a portion of the shrouds left, also, and the backstay; but, of everything else, as far as we could judge at that distance, a clean sweep had been made fore and aft and the vessel seemed to be a complete wreck.

The commander's keen eyes, however, caught sight of something, which at the first glance had escaped the notice of both lookout and signalman; not to speak of the many officers who stood around on the p.o.o.p, scrutinising the dismantled vessel through their gla.s.ses, none of whom had observed this object until Commander Nesbitt pointed it out.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed abruptly. "What is that lashed to the rigging on her port beam?"

Every gla.s.s was instantly directed to the point he had indicated.

"It's a man, sir," said the signalman, noticing the object on its now being pointed out to him, very wise after the event, as most of us are disposed to be in everyday life. "I think I can see him move, sir."

"Yes, by Jove!" cried Mr Jellaby, who stood near, holding on to one of the davits, jumping up on the gunwale to have a better view. "There he is waving one of his arms now!"

"I don't know about that, imagination sometimes goes a great way in these matters," observed Commander Nesbitt, after carefully inspecting the battered hulk with the gla.s.s Mr Jellaby handed him; "but, at all events, we'll send a boat aboard and see. Bosun's mate, pipe the watch to stand by to heave the s.h.i.+p to! Clew up the courses. Square the main yard!"