The Eagle Cliff. Robert Michael Ballantyne
help thinking that I hear the beating of paddles.”
“Keep a sherp look-oot, Shames,” cried the skipper, suddenly, as he went forward with unwonted alacrity.
A few minutes more and the sound which had at first been distinguished only by Barret’s sharp ear, became audible to all—the soft regular patting of a paddle-wheel steamer in the distance, yet clearly coming towards them. Presently a shrill sound, very faint but prolonged, was heard, showing that she was blowing her steam-whistle as a precaution.
“Strange, is it not, that the very thing we have been talking about should happen?” said Mabberly.
“Nay,” returned Jackman, lightly, “we were talking about being run down, and we have not yet come to that.”
“The strangest thing of all to me,” said Barret, “is that, with a wide ocean all round, vessels should ever run into each other at all, at least on the open sea, for there is only one line, a few feet wide, in favour of such an accident, whereas there are thousands of miles against it.”
Jackman, who was a great theorist, here propounded a reason for this.
“If vessels would only hold straight on their courses, you see,” he said, “the accident of collision would be exceedingly rare, for, although thousands of ships might pass near to each other, not one in ten thousand would meet; but when vessels come pretty near, their commanders sometimes become anxious, take fancies into their heads, as to each having forgotten the ‘rules of the road,’ and each attempting to correct the other—as we do sometimes in the streets—they bring about the very disaster they are trying to avoid.”
“Had we not better ring the bell, Captain?” cried Mabberly, in rising excitement.
“Oo ay, if you think so, sir. Ring, poy!”
The boy, who was getting alarmed, seized the tongue of the ship’s bell, and rang with all his might. Whether this had the effect to which Jackman had referred, we cannot tell, but next moment what appeared to be a mountain loomed out of the mist. The steam-whistle had been silent for some time, but as soon as the bell was heard it burst forth with increased fury. From the instant her form was dimly seen the fate of the yacht was sealed. There was a wild shouting on board the steamer, but there was no time for action.
“Starboard hard!” was the cry.
“Starboard it is!” was the immediate answer. But before the helm could act, the great rushing mass struck the Fairy amidships, and literally cut her in two!
The awful suddenness of a catastrophe, which those on board had just been arguing was all but impossible, seemed to have paralysed every one, for no one made the slightest effort to escape. Perhaps the appearance of the wall-like bow of the steamer, without rope or projection of any kind to lay hold of, or jump at, might have conveyed the swift perception that their case was hopeless. At all events, they all went under with the doomed yacht, and nothing was left in the wake of the leviathan but a track of foam on the mist-encumbered sea.
But they were not lost! One after another the wrecked party rose struggling to the surface, and all of them could swim except the boy.
Giles Jackman was the first who rose. Treading water and brushing the hair out of his eyes, he gazed wildly about. Barret came up close beside him, almost a moment later. He had barely taken breath, when the others rose at various distances. A cry not far from him caused him to turn. It was poor Robin Tips, struggling for life. A few powerful strokes carried Barret alongside. He got behind the boy, caught him under the armpits, and thus held him, at arm’s length, until he could quiet him.
“There is a spar, thank God! Make for it, Barret, while I see to Quin,” shouted Jackman.
As he spoke, they could hear the whistle of the steamer rushing away from them.
Barret, forcing himself breast-high out of the water, glanced quickly round and caught sight of the floating spar to which his companion had referred. Although only a few yards off, the fog rendered it almost invisible.
“Are you quiet now?” demanded Barret, in a stern voice, for the terrified boy still showed something like a hysterical determination to turn violently round, and grasp his rescuer in what would probably have turned out to be the grip of death.
“Yes, sir, oh! yes. But d–don’t let me go! M–mind, I can’t swim!”
“You are perfectly safe if you simply do nothing but what I tell you,” returned Barret, in a quiet, ordinary tone of voice, that reassured the poor lad more than the words.
By way of reply he suddenly became motionless, and as limp as a dead eel.
Getting gradually on his back, and drawing Tips slowly on to his chest, so that he rested with his mouth upwards, and his head entirely out of the water, Barret struck out for the spar, swimming thus on his back.
On reaching it, he found to his surprise that it was the experimental raft, and that the captain, Mabberly, and McGregor were already clinging to it.
“Won’t bear us all, I fear,” said Mabberly; “but thank God that we have it. Put the boy on.”
In order to do this, Barret had to get upon the raft, and he found that it bore him easily as well as the boy.
“Have you seen Jackman?” asked Mabberly.
“Yes,” replied Barret, rising and looking round.
“Here he comes, towing Quin, I think, who seems to be stunned. Hallo! This way—hi! Giles!”
But Giles suddenly ceased to swim, turned over on his back, and lay as if dead.
“Rescue, Bob, rescue!” shouted Barret, plunging into the water. Mabberly followed, and soon had hold of Giles and his man by the hair.
“All right!” said Jackman, turning round; “I was only taking a rest. No one lost, I hope?”
“No; all safe, so far.”
“You can tow him in now. I’m almost used up,” said Jackman, making for the raft. “He’s only stunned, I think.”
It was found that the Irishman had in truth been only stunned when they lifted him on to the raft, for he soon began to show signs of returning life, and a large bump on his head sufficiently explained the nature of his injury.
But when the whole party had cautiously clambered up on the raft it sank so deep that they scarcely dared to move. To make matters worse, they clearly distinguished the steamer’s whistle going farther and farther away, as if she were searching for them in a wrong direction. This was indeed the case, and although they all shouted singly and together, the whistle grew fainter by degrees, and finally died away.
With feelings approaching to despair, the crew of the frail raft began to talk of the prospect before them, when they were silenced by a slight movement in the mist. The white curtain was lifted for a few yards, and revealed to their almost incredulous eyes a rocky shore, backed by a range of precipitous cliffs, with a wild mountainous region beyond.
As the sea was still perfectly calm, there was no surf. Our castaways, therefore, with the exception of Quin and the boy, quietly slipped into the water, and, with thankful hearts, propelled the raft vigorously towards the shore.
Chapter Three
The Wreck is Followed by Repose, Refreshment, Surprise, and Disaster
The distance from land was not more than a few hundred yards; nevertheless, it occupied a considerable time to pass over that space, the raft being ill-adapted for quick progression through the water.
Close to the shore there was a flat rock, to which, as they approached it, their attention was drawn by the appearance of what seemed to be living creatures of some sort. Quin and Robin Tips, sitting on the raft, naturally saw them first.
“I do belave it’s men, for they’re liftin’ their hids an’ lookin’ at us. Av it was the South Says, now, I’d say they was saviges peepin’ at us over the rocks.”
“P’raps they’re boys a-bathin’,” suggested Tips.
“Are