The Pirate, and The Three Cutters. Фредерик Марриет

the ship before the wind.

      As the Circassian rolled before the gale, the lazy manner in which she righted proved how much water there was in the hold. The seamen exerted themselves for a whole hour without intermission, and the well was again sounded—eight feet!

      The men did not assert that they would pump no longer; but they too plainly showed their intentions by each resuming in silence his shirt and jacket, which he had taken off at the commencement of his exertions.

      'What's to be done, Oswald?' said Captain Ingram, as they walked aft. 'You see the men will pump no longer; nor, indeed, would it be of any use. We are doomed.'

      'The Circassian is, sir, I am afraid,' replied the mate: 'pumping is of no avail; they could not keep her afloat till daybreak. We must therefore trust to our boats, which I believe to be all sound, and quit her before night.'

      'Crowded boats in such a sea as this!' replied Captain Ingram, shaking his head mournfully.

      'Are bad enough, I grant; but better than the sea itself. All we can do now is to try and keep the men sober, and if we can do so it will be better than to fatigue them uselessly; they'll want all their strength before they put foot again upon dry land—if ever they are so fortunate. Shall I speak to them?'

      'Do, Oswald,' replied the captain; 'for myself I care little, God knows; but my wife—my children!'

      'My lads,' said Oswald, going forward to the men, who had waited in moody silence the result of the conference—'as for pumping any longer it would be only wearing out your strength for no good. We must now look to our boats; and a good boat is better than a bad ship. Still this gale and cross-running sea are rather too much for boats at present; we had therefore better stick to the ship as long as we can. Let us set to with a will and get the boats ready, with provisions, water, and what else may be needful, and then we must trust to God's mercy and our own endeavours.'

      'No boat can stand this sea,' observed one of the men. 'I'm of opinion, as it's to be a short life, it may as well be a merry one. What d'ye say, my lads?' continued he, appealing to the men.

      Several of the crew were of the same opinion; but Oswald, stepping forward, seized one of the axes which lay at the main-bits, and going up to the seaman who had spoken, looked him steadfastly in the face—

      'Williams,' said the mate, 'a short life it may be to all of us, but not a merry one; the meaning of which I understand very well. Sorry I shall be to have your blood, or that of others, on my hands; but as sure as there's a heaven, I'll cleave to the shoulder the first man who attempts to break into the spirit-room. You know I never joke. Shame upon you! Do you call yourselves men, when, for the sake of a little liquor now, you would lose your only chance of getting drunk every day as soon as we get on shore again? There's a time for all things; and I've a notion this is a time to be sober.'

      As most of the crew sided with Oswald, the weaker party were obliged to submit, and the preparations were commenced. The two boats on the booms were found to be in good condition. One party was employed cutting away the bulwarks that the boats might be launched over the side, as there were no means of hoisting them out. The well was again sounded. Nine feet water in the hold, and the ship evidently settling fast. Two hours had now passed, and the gale was not so violent; the sea, also, which at the change of wind had been cross, appeared to have recovered its regular run. All was ready; the sailors, once at work again, had, in some measure, recovered their spirits, and were buoyed up with fresh hopes at the slight change in their favour from the decrease of the wind. The two boats were quite large enough to contain the whole of the crew and passengers; but, as the sailors said among themselves (proving the kindness of their hearts), 'What was to become of those two poor babbies, in an open boat for days and nights, perhaps?' Captain Ingram had gone down to Mrs. Templemore, to impart to her their melancholy prospects; and the mother's heart, as well as the mother's voice, echoed the words of the seamen, 'What will become of my poor babes?'

      It was not till nearly six o'clock in the evening that all was ready: the ship was slowly brought to the wind again, and the boats launched over the side. By this time the gale was much abated; but the vessel was full of water, and was expected soon to go down.