In Search of El Dorado. Harry Collingwood

In Search of El Dorado - Harry Collingwood


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suddenly there came, unceremoniously elbowing his way through the excited crowd, the well-known form of the purser, his face wreathed with smiles, and a paper in his hand.

      “Make way, there, make way, good people,” he shouted. “I have good news for you. The wireless operators have succeeded in getting into touch with three more ships, and now not only the Bolivia, but also the Cotopaxi, the Platonic, and the Nigerian are hastening to our rescue and will all be alongside us in the course of a few hours. Therefore, cheer up, there is help and room for everybody on the way.”

      “Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! Three cheers for the purser and his good news,” shouted a man with a strong American accent; and all who understood him heartily took up the cheering; while the foreigners, who had failed to catch the meaning of the purser’s remarks, at least understood from the cheering that good news of some sort had come to hand, and their attitude at once became less menacing.

      “Good for you, sir,” exclaimed Dick to the men who had started the cheering. “Those hurrahs of yours are worth more than diamonds to us just now. Hurry up lads with that boat and let’s get her afloat. Are you ready, Simpson? Good! Now then, come along, good people, but don’t crowd, there’s plenty of time. Jump in, sir—” to the man with the American accent; “you deserve a place, if only in return for those cheers.”

      “Not I, my son,” answered the man addressed—he was only about twenty-eight to thirty years of age. “I have neither wife, child, nor relative of any kind, as far as I know. Let the married folk go first. Now then, you husbands and fathers, step out. Any more for the shore?”

      He spoke with a smile on his good-locking face, and that and the little jest of “Any more for the shore?” were as comforting to many a man there as all the assurances of the ship’s officers had been; nay, more, for they had been accompanied by a wave of the hand toward the boat and a voluntary stepping aside that seemed to say as plain as words—“Pass along, you who are afraid. I am not, and am entirely willing to wait my turn.”

      But although the peril of panic was less imminent than it had been, it was by no means banished, and probably none recognised this more clearly than the American, for while the boat just filled was being lowered, he edged up to Dick and murmured:

      “Say, young man, unless you are looking for trouble I would advise you to get all those Dagos out of the ship quick. I know their sort, sir, and I can tell by the look in their eyes, that the smallest thing in the way of an extra scare will just send the whole crowd jumping mad. So get rid of them in a hurry. That’s my advice.”

      “And I believe you are right, too,” answered Dick. “But I can’t act on your advice, all the same. There are others who are entitled to as good a chance as the Dagos, and they must have it. There is yourself, for instance—”

      “Nix! I guess not!” interrupted the American. “Of course, I know what you mean,” he continued, in a low tone; “the ship can’t last much longer, and a good few of us are in for a cold swim; but I guess I’ll take my chance with the rest of the bathers.”

      The launching and the dispatch of the collapsibles was now proceeding with frantic haste, for it was no longer possible to conceal the fact that the ship’s minutes were numbered, while there were still over a thousand people aboard. But the discipline was perfect, the work was going forward smoothly and with no more bustle than if the passengers were being landed upon a wharf; and if it had not been for the horribly nervous condition of the foreigners all might have been well. But they were in just that state of “nerves” when, as the American had suggested, the smallest scare would act upon them as a spark upon gunpowder; and the scare presently came, in the form of a small explosion—which might have been nothing more than the accidental discharge of a revolver somewhere down in the depths of the ship. Whatever it may have been, it was enough to turn the scale—to upset the state of delicate, unstable equilibrium prevailing, and after a momentary glance around them, the foreigners, nearly three-hundred in number, set up a yell of terror and hurled themselves in a body upon those who were at work upon the boats.

      In a flash, Dick, the American, and half a dozen more were swept out through the temporary gangway by the maddened crowd, and, before they fully realised what was happening, found themselves floundering in the water alongside, while others came hurtling down on all sides. Luckily for himself, Dick went down straight—and consequently somewhat deep, and before his descent was checked his presence of mind returned. He pictured to himself exactly what was happening above him, and struck out powerfully under water, so as to escape the shower of falling bodies when he should reach the surface.

      The water was bitterly cold, but Dick kept under as long as he could, swimming straight away from the ship; and when at length he rose he saw with satisfaction that he was some ten yards distant from her, and well clear of the struggling mass of men alongside, who were being added to by dozens, even as he watched.

      The next moment another head broke water alongside him, and as it did so a voice which Dick instantly recognised ejaculated, amidst a fusillade of coughs and splutterings—

      “B–r–r–ur! It’s colder’n charity! Darn those Dagos, anyway! It was cold enough up there on the hurricane deck, but here—ugh!”

      “You are right,” returned Dick. “It is cold, and no mistake. I hope those fellows didn’t hurt you in their mad rush.”

      “Nary a hurt,” replied Dick’s companion. “So it’s you, young man, is it? Good! Say! although it is so tarnation cold down here, I guess we’re better off than the people up there on deck. For now we’ll have a chance to get clear of the ship before she sinks, if we hustle a bit. See that star over there? I guess we’d better make a bee line for it and swim for all we’re worth; then, if we’re lucky we may escape being dragged down in the vortex; and perhaps we may find a boat to hang on to until something comes along and picks us up.”

      Dick agreeing, the pair struck out strongly in the direction of the star. But, as they swam, their ears were assailed by a veritable pandemonium of sound aboard the sinking steamer—shouts, yells, screams, and a regular fusillade of pistol shots, bearing eloquent evidence of the terrible scenes that were enacting aboard her.

      As the two swimmers proceeded the mingled sounds aboard the Everest seemed to swell rather than diminish, to such an extent indeed that presently the American turned to Dick and gasped, through chattering teeth—

      “S–s–say! s–s–seems to m–me that there’s a r–reg-ular pitched b–a–attle going on aboard there—ugh! G–g–guess w–we’re b–b–better off here th–th–than there—eh?”

      “R–r–rather!” stammered Dick back, but he was suffering so intensely from the icy nip of the water that he felt no disposition to talk, and simply pushed ahead for all he was worth, hoping that by dint of violent exertion he might be able to conquer the numbing sensation that was gradually clogging his movements.

      For another ten minutes the pair pressed forward side by side. Then suddenly Dick’s companion ceased his exertions, and, with a groan, turned over on his back. He managed to stammer a question whether there were any boats at hand; and upon Dick replying in the negative the American gasped:

      “Then I’m d–d–done. C–cramp all over. C–can’t s–swim ’nother s–stroke. G–good-bye!”

      “Good-bye be hanged!” shouted Dick, stirred to new life by his companion’s extremity. “Just y–you lie as y–you are—I’ll l–l–look after you.”

      And flinging himself on his back, Cavendish gripped the other man firmly by the collar, and, kicking out vigorously, towed him along. Some five minutes later the youngster became conscious of a sudden and very decided fall in the temperature of the water, and looking about in search of the cause, found himself within a few yards of a large cake of field ice. There, at all events, was a refuge of a sort—something that would serve the purpose of a raft, and with a few vigorous strokes he was alongside it. It was a great slab of field ice, its flat upper surface not more than six


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