In Greek Waters: A Story of the Grecian War of Independence. Henty George Alfred

woman on board?” he asked the first.

      “No, we have no passengers.”

      “That is a comfort. How many of a crew?”

      “There were thirty-three all told, but four were killed by the falling mast, and three were washed overboard before we struck, so there are twenty-six now.”

      In five minutes from the ropes being thrown the captain, who was last man, was on board the yacht. The Surf’s own hawser had been thrown off by him before he left, drawn in, and coiled down, and as soon as he was safe on board the other two hawsers were thrown off.

      “Haul the jib a-weather, Dick,” Tom Burdett shouted as he took the helm again. “Slack the mizzen-sheet off altogether, Marco; up with the try-sail again.”

      For a short distance the yacht drifted astern, and then, as the pressure of the jib began to make itself felt, her head gradually payed off. “Haul in the try-sail and jib-sheets. Let go the weather-sheet, Dick, and haul in the other. That is it, now she begins to move again.”

      “You are only just in time,” the captain said to Tom; “she was just beginning to part in the middle when I left. You have saved all our lives, and I thank you heartily.”

      “This is the owner of the yacht, sir,” Tom said, motioning to Horace. “It is his doing that we came out.”

      “Oh, that is all nonsense, Tom! You would have come just the same if I hadn’t been there.”

      “Well, sir, it has been a gallant rescue,” the captain said. “I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw your sail coming after us, and I expected every moment to see it disappear.”

      “Now, captain,” Tom said, “make all your men sit down as close as they can pack under the weather bulwark; we ain’t in yet.”

      It was an anxious time as they struggled through the heavy sea on the way back, but the Surf stood it bravely, and the weight to windward enabled her to stand up more stiffly to her canvas. When they were abreast of the port half the men went over to the other side, the helm was put up, and she rushed towards the shore dead before the wind. The extra weight on deck told on her now, and it needed the most careful steering on Tom’s part to keep her straight before the waves, several of which broke over her taffrail and swept along the deck, one of them bursting out her bulwarks at the bow.

      “Get ready to haul in the sheets smartly,” Tom shouted as they neared the pier.

      He kept her course close to the pier-head, and as the Surf came abreast of it jammed down the tiller, while Ben and Dick hauled in the mizzen-sheet. A moment later she was shooting along under the shelter of the wall, while a loud shout of welcome rose above the howling of the wind from those on shore.

      “Now, sir, I will see about getting her moored,” Tom said, “if you will run down and get some rum bottles out of the locker; I am pretty well frozen and these poor fellows must be nigh perished, but it would never have done to open the hatchway in that sea.”

      “Come down, men,” Horace cried, as he dived below. “We had no time to light the fire before starting, but a glass of spirits will do you good all round.”

      Two or three of the fishermen rowed out as soon as the yacht was moored, and in a few minutes all were ashore.

      “Now you had better run up to the house and change, Mr. Horace,” Tom Burdett said. “We will look after the men here and get them some dry things, and put them up amongst us. We have done a big thing, sir, and the Surf has been tried as I hope she will never be tried again as long as we have anything to do with her.”

      “All right, Tom! Will you come up with me, captain? There is no one at home but myself, and we will manage to rig you up somehow.”

      The captain, however, declined the invitation, saying that he would rather see after his men and put up himself at the public-house on the beach.

      “I will come up later, sir, when I have seen everything all snug here.”

      Horace had some difficulty in making his way up through the crowd, for both men and women wished to shake hands with him. At last he got through, and, followed by Marco, ran up through the village to the house. Zaimes had been among the crowd assembled to see the Surf re-enter the port; and when Horace changed his things and came down stairs he found a bowl of hot soup ready for him.

      “You have given me a nice fright, Mr. Horace,” the Greek said as he entered the room. “I have been scolding Marco, I can tell you.”

      “It was not his fault, Zaimes. I made up my mind to go, and told him so, and he had the choice whether he would go or stay behind, and he went.”

      “Of course he went,” Zaimes said; “but he ought to have come and told me. Then I should have gone too. How could I have met your father, do you think, if you had been drowned?”

      “Well, you would not have been to blame, Zaimes, as you knew nothing about it until after we had started.”

      “No, you had been gone half an hour before someone from the village came up and told them in the kitchen. Then one of the servants brought me the news, and I ran down like a madman, without even stopping to get a hat. Then I found that most of the men had gone up to the cliff to keep you in sight, and I went up there and waited with them until you were nearly back again. Once or twice, as you were running in to the pier, I thought the yacht was gone.”

      “That was the worst bit, Zaimes. The sea came tumbling over her stern, and I was washed off my feet two or three times. I almost thought that she was going down head-foremost. Well, I am glad I was at home this morning. I would not have missed it for anything.”

      “No, it is a good thing, now it is done, and something to be proud of. I am told very few of the fishermen thought that you would ever come back again.”

      “They didn’t know the boat as we did, Zaimes. I felt sure she would go through anything; and, besides, Tom kicked out the lower plank of the bulwarks on each side, so as to help her to free herself from water as it came on board, and flush-decked as she is, there was nothing to carry away; but she hasn’t taken a cupful of water down below.”

      In the evening the captain of the barque came up, and Horace learned from him that she was on her way from New Orleans laden with cotton.

      “The ship and cargo are insured,” the captain said; “and, as far as that goes, it is a good thing she is knocked into match-wood. She was a dull sailer at the best of times, and when laden you could not get her to lay anywhere near the wind. She would have done better than she did, though, hadn’t her rudder got damaged somehow in the night. She ought to have clawed off the shore easy enough; but, as you saw, she sagged to leeward a foot for every foot she went for’ard. I was part-owner in her, and I am not sorry she has gone. We tried to sell her last year, but they have been selling so many ships out of the navy that we could not get anything of a price for her; but as she was well insured, I shall get a handier craft next time. I was well off shore when the storm began to get heavy last night, and felt no anxiety about our position till the rudder went wrong. But when I saw the coast this morning, I felt sure that unless there was a change in the weather nothing could save her. Well, if it hadn’t been for the loss of those seven hands, I should, thanks to you, have nothing to complain of.”

      Fires had been lit on the shore as night came on; but except fragments of the wreck and a number of bales of cotton nothing was recovered. In the morning the captain and crew left Seaport, two hands remaining behind to look after the cotton and recover as much as they could. Two days later Mr. Beveridge returned home.

      “I saw in the paper before I left town, Horace, an account of your going out to the wreck and saving the lives of those, on board. I am very glad I was not here, my lad. I don’t think I should have let you go; but as I knew nothing about it until it was all over, I had no anxiety about it, and felt quite proud of you when I read the account. The money was well laid out on that yacht, my boy. I don’t say that I didn’t think so before, but I certainly think so now. However, directly I read it I wrote to the Lifeboat Society and told them that I would pay for a boat