Masterman Ready; Or, The Wreck of the "Pacific". Фредерик Марриет

that a parent is justified in refusing his consent to his son going to sea, if he can properly provide for him in any other profession. There never will be any want of sailors, for there always will be plenty of poor lads whose friends can do no better for them; and in that case the seafaring life is a good one to choose, as it requires no other capital for their advancement than activity and courage.”

Chapter Six.

       Table of Contents

      Mr. Seagrave and William went down below into the cabin, where they found that there was plenty of employment; the steward had brought a basin of very hot pea-soup for the children. Tommy, who was sitting up in the bed-place with his sister, had snatched it out of Juno’s left hand, for she held the baby with the other, and in so doing, had thrown it over Caroline, who was screaming, while Juno, in her hurry to assist Caroline, had slipped down on the deck with the baby, who was also crying with fright, although not hurt. Unfortunately, Juno had fallen down upon Vixen the terrier, who in return had bitten her in the leg, which had made Juno also cry out; while Mrs. Seagrave was hanging her head out of her standing bed-place, frightened out of her wits at the accident, but unable to be of any assistance. Fortunately, Mr. Seagrave came down just in time to pick up Juno and the baby, and then tried to comfort little Caroline, who after all was not much scalded, as the soup had had time to cool.

      “Massa Tommy is a very naughty boy,” cried Juno, rubbing her leg. Master Tommy thought it better to say nothing—he was duly admonished—the steward cleaned up the mess, and order was at length restored.

      In the meantime, they were not idle upon deck; the carpenter was busy fixing a step for one of the spare topmasts instead of a mainmast, and the men were fitting the rigging; the ship unfortunately had sprung a leak, and four hands at the pumps interfered very much with their task. As Ready had prophesied, before night the gale blew, the sea rose again with the gale, and the leaking of the vessel increased so much, that all other labour was suspended for that at the pump. For two more days did the storm continue, during which time the crew were worn out with fatigue—they could pump no longer: the ship, as she rolled, proved that she had a great deal of water in her hold—when, melancholy as were their prospects already, a new disaster took place, which was attended with most serious results. Captain Osborn was on the forecastle giving some orders to the men, when the strap of the block which hoisted up the main-topgallant yard on the stump of the foremast gave way, the yard and sail came down on the deck, and struck him senseless. As long as Captain Osborn commanded them, the sailors had so high an opinion of his abilities as a seaman, and were so encouraged by his cheerful disposition, that they performed their work well and cheerfully; but now that he was, if not killed, at all events senseless and incapable of action, they no longer felt themselves under control. Mackintosh was too much disliked by the seamen to allow his words to have any weight with them. They were regardless of his injunctions or requests, and they now consulted among themselves.

      “The gale is broke, my men, and we shall have fine weather now,” observed Ready, going up to the sailors on the forecastle. “The wind is going down fast.”

      “Yes,” replied one of the men, “and the ship is going down fast, that’s quite as certain.”

      “A good spell at the pumps would do us some good now,” replied Ready. “What d’ye say, my lads?”

      “A glass of grog or two would do us more,” replied the seaman. “What d’ye say, my boys? I don’t think that the captain would refuse us, poor fellow, if he could speak.”

      “What do you mean to do, my lads?” inquired Mackintosh: “not get drunk, I hope?”

      “Why not?” observed another of the men; “the ship must go down soon.”

      “Perhaps she may—I will not deny it,” said Mackintosh; “but that is no reason why we should not be saved: now, if you get drunk, there is no chance of any one being saved, and my life is precious to me. I’m ready to join with you in anything you please, and you may decide what is to be done; but get drunk you shall not, if I can help it, that’s certain.”

      “And how can you help it?” replied one of the seamen, surlily.

      “Because two resolute men can do a great deal—I may say three, for in this instance Ready will be of my side, and I can call to my assistance the cabin passenger—recollect the firearms are all in the cabin. But why should we quarrel?—Say at once what you intend to do; and if you have not made up your minds, will you listen to what I propose?”

      As Mackintosh’s courage and determination were well known, the seamen again consulted together, and then asked him what he proposed.

      “We have one good boat left, the new yawl at the booms: the others, as you know, are washed away, with the exception of the little boat astern, which is useless, as she is knocked almost to pieces. Now we cannot be very far from some of the islands, indeed I think we are among them now. Let us fit out the boat with everything we require, go about our work steadily and quietly, drink as much grog as will not hurt us, and take a good provision of it with us. The boat is complete with her masts, sails, and oars; and it’s very hard if we do not save ourselves somewhere. Ready, do I give good advice or not?”

      “You give very good advice, Mackintosh—only what is to become of the cabin passengers, the women, and children? and are you going to leave poor Captain Osborn? or what do you mean to do?”

      “We won’t leave the captain,” said one of the seamen.

      “No—no!” exclaimed the others.

      “And the passengers?”

      “Very sorry for them,” replied the former spokesman; “but we shall have enough to do to save our own lives.”

      “Well, my lads, I agree with you,” said Mackintosh. “Charity begins at home. What do you say?—shall it be so?”

      “Yes,” replied the seamen, unanimously; and Ready knew that it was in vain to expostulate. They now set about preparing the boat, and providing for their wants. Biscuits, salt pork, two or three small casks of water, and a barrel of rum were collected at the gangway; Mackintosh brought up his quadrant and a compass, some muskets, powder and shot; the carpenter, with the assistance of another man, cut away the ship’s bulwarks down to the gunnel, so as to enable them to launch the boat overboard, for they could not, of course, hoist her out now that the masts were gone. In an hour everything was prepared. A long rope was made fast to the boat, which was brought to the gunnel ready for launching overboard, and the ship’s broadside was brought to the wind. As this was done, Mr. Seagrave came on deck and looked around him.

      He perceived the boat ready for launching, the provisions and water at the gangway, the ship brought to the wind, and rolling slowly to the heave of the sea; at last he saw Ready sitting down by Captain Osborn, who was apparently dead. “What is all this, Ready?” inquired Seagrave. “Are they going to leave the ship? have they killed Captain Osborn?”

      “No, sir—not quite so bad as that. Poor Captain Osborn was struck down by the fall of the yard, and has been insensible ever since; but, as to the other matter, I fear that is decided: you see they are launching the boat.”

      “But my poor wife, she will never be able to go—she cannot move—she is so ill!”

      “I’m afraid, Mr. Seagrave, that they have no idea of taking either you, or your wife, or your children, with them.”

      “What! leave us here to perish! Merciful Heaven! how cruel—how barbarous!”

      “It is not kind, Mr. Seagrave, but still you see it is the law of nature. When it is a question of life, it is every one for himself, for life is sweet: they are not more unkind than they would be to each other, if there were too many for the boat to hold. I’ve seen all this before in my time,” replied Ready, gravely.

      “My wife! my children!” cried Mr. Seagrave,