The Three Midshipmen. William Henry Giles Kingston
if carefully performed.
“Well heave the ship to, and lower a couple of boats to go in search of the lads,” observed the captain.
The first lieutenant issued the necessary orders, and the ship was brought up to the wind and hove-to. Mr. Thorn eagerly went to lower one of the boats. Hemming took charge of the other. Their respective crews sprang into them. The falls were properly tended and unhooked at the right moment, and, getting clear of the ship, they lay ready to pull in whatever direction might be indicated. Here was the difficulty.
“Silence fore and aft,” sang out the captain. “Does any one hear them?”
In an instant there was a dead silence. No one would have supposed that many hundred human beings were at that moment alive and awake on board the ship. Every one listened intently, but no sound was borne to their ears. Even Captain Lascelles began to give up all hope.
“The poor widowed mother, how will she bear it?” he muttered; “and that honest country gentleman—it will be sad news I shall have to send him of his son.”
Scarcely had the captain thus given expression to his feelings, when a bright light burst forth amid the darkness some way to leeward. A shout spontaneously arose from all on board. “They must have got hold of the life-buoy, they must have got hold of the life-buoy,” was the cry. “Hurrah! hurrah!” The two boats dashed away, with eager strokes, in the direction of the light.
Meantime Murray had towed Jack steadily on towards the buoy. He began to feel very weary though, and sometimes he thought that his strength would fail him. He looked at the buoy; it seemed a very long way off. He felt at last that he should never be able to reach it. “I’ll not give in while life remains,” he said to himself. Just then his hand struck against something. He grasped it. It was a large piece of Spanish cork-wood. He shoved it under Jack’s back, and rested his own left arm on it. He immediately found an immense advantage from the support it afforded. “Who sent that piece of cork-wood to my aid?” he thought; “it did not come by chance.” The assurance that he was not deserted gave him additional confidence. Jack also gave further signs of returning animation.
“Where am I?” he at length asked, in a tone of voice which showed that his senses were still confused.
“In the middle of the Mediterranean; but there’s a life-buoy close at hand, and when we get hold of it we shall be all to rights,” answered Murray.
“What! is that you, Alick?” asked jack. “I remember now feeling that I was going overboard; but how came you here? Has the ship gone down?”
“No, no; all right; she’ll be here to pick us up directly, I hope.”
“Then you jumped overboard to save me!” exclaimed Jack. “Just like you, Alick; I knew you would do it.”
Jack lay perfectly still all the time he was talking. It did not seem to occur to him that he could swim as well as his companion.
“Here we are!” cried Murray; “Heaven be praised—I was afraid that I should scarcely be able to make out the life-buoy, it is getting so dark.” He placed Jack’s hand on one of the beckets, and took another himself, and together they climbed up, and sat on the life-buoy. Murray drew the piece of cork up alongside, observing, “I do not like to desert the friend which has been of so much service in our utmost need, and to kick it away without an acknowledgment.”
Jack laughed. He had now completely come to his senses. “I’m very much obliged to you, Friend Cork,” said he. “I know, Murray, what you are going to say; I am, indeed, thankful to Heaven for having thus far preserved me, and to you too, my dear fellow. But, I say, can you make out the ship?”
“Not a shred of her. I scarcely know in what quarter to look for her.”
“Well, then, all we shall have to do is to hang on here till daylight. The weather is warm, so we shall not come to much harm if the wind goes down again, and I am very certain the captain will come and look for us.”
“It may be a question whether he can find us, though,” said Murray. “By-the-bye, I do not think that the buoy was fired. If we can find the trigger we will let it off, and that will quickly show our whereabouts.”
“A bright idea,” answered jack. “Hurrah! I’ve found it. Now blaze away, old boy.” Jack pulled the trigger as he spoke, and immediately an intensely bright bluish light burst forth above their heads, exhibiting their countenances to each other, with their hair streaming, lank and long, over their faces, giving them at the same time a very cadaverous and unearthly appearance. Jack, in spite of their critical position, burst into a fit of laughter. “Certainly, we do look as unlike two natty quarter-deck midshipmen as could well be,” he exclaimed. “Never mind, we have not many spectators.”
Jack and Murray’s coolness arose from the perfect confidence they felt that they would not be deserted while the slightest hope remained of their being found; and now that they had set off the port-fire they were almost as happy as if they were already safe on board. They had not much longer to wait. Presently a hail reached them; they shouted in return, and soon afterwards they saw a couple of boats emerging from the darkness. One took them on board—the other towed the life-buoy; and in half an hour more their wet clothes were off them, and they were being stowed away between the blankets in the sick-bay, each of them sipping a pretty strong glass of brandy and water. Of course, when the excitement was over, a very considerable reaction took place, and several days passed before they were allowed to return to their duty. Captain Lascelles then sent for Jack, and inquired how he came to tumble overboard? Jack had to confess that in his zeal he had gone beyond his duty, and that, instead of remaining at his station in the top, he had been attempting to do work which ought to have been performed by one of the topmen.
“You were wrong, as you will see, Rogers,” remarked Captain Lascelles. “Remember that there is a strict line of duty, and that going beyond, as you call it, may be quite as injurious to the service as neglecting any portion of it. Your business was to see that the men were properly reefing the topsail. By going out on the yard-arm you could not do this, and were thus neglecting your duty—not going beyond it. I have no intention of punishing you, on condition that you will recollect what I have said.”
Jack promised that he would, and thanked the captain for his lecture. Murray got, as he deserved, a great deal of credit for his gallantry; and he was not a little delighted to receive the gold medal, some time afterwards, from the Humane Society. Soon after this occurrence, the frigate was sent to Gibraltar. She there took on board several passengers for Malta. One was a bear, which was sent as a present to the captain of a line-of-battle ship on the station, from some consul in Africa, who knew that he was fond of pets; another was a young gentleman going to travel in the East. The captain had given him a passage, as he was a relation of some brother officer who could not take him himself. He had been offered, and accepted, a berth in the gun-room. Neither Jack nor Murray had seen him, nor had they heard his name before they sailed. The next morning, after they had lost sight of the rock, when they went on deck, who should they see walking up and down, with an air of no little consequence, and having a pair of lilac kid gloves on his hands, but Bully Pigeon. Jack and Murray forgot all his bad qualities, and only thought of him as an old schoolfellow. So they went up to him, and cordially put out their hands.
“Why, Pigeon, how are you, old fellow? Who’d have thought of seeing you here?” exclaimed Jack.
Pigeon drew himself up. “You must have made a mistake; I—I don’t remember you,” he answered.
“Oh! but we do you, very well, at Eagle House. I’m Jack Rogers, here’s Murray. We two came together. You didn’t leave, either, before us,” said Jack. “Oh! you must remember all about it.”
“Ah! now I think I do,” replied Pigeon, extending the tips of his fingers. “There was another fellow went to sea at the same time. Paddy something—Oh! ye-es, I remember.”
“Ah! Paddy Adair, you mean. Poor fellow, he was lost in the Onyx,” answered Jack, in a sad tone.
“Oh!