THE RIVAL LIFE-SAVERS
It was February, the year after the war. The month had been cold andstormy. Frequent and sudden squalls had kept everybody on the alert.For over two months the United States frigate _Macedonian_ (she oncehad H.M.S. prefixed to her name, by the way) had been facing the badweather, that had ranged from the Bermudas as far to the eastward asthe Bay of Biscay. It was blowing great guns on this particularmorning, and blowing with that promise of thick weather that seamenlearn to recognize so readily. Not two miles away an English frigatewas seen coming grandly along as she shortened sail.
It did not require the aid of the falling barometer or the sight of thethick black clouds gathering to the northeast, to prove that they werein for it again.
Two men were on the _Macedonian's_ main topgallant yard. They weretrying to spill the wind out of the sail that was standing straight upabove their heads like a great balloon.
"Confound this business, anyhow," grunted the older man. "Did you eversee such an evil-acting bit of rag in your life?" He pounded into thestruggling canvas, as if he could sink his blunt fingers in the foldsand obtain a better grasp. But the wind had firm hold on it, and hadfilled it so taut that it was struggling and moving like the body of aliving thing.
"Hold hard!" suddenly exclaimed the younger man; "I see what's thematter." Just the second before he spoke, the leech of the topgallantsail had caught over the end of the yard arm. He lay out on the yard toclear it, his loosened hair and his big collar flapping across hisface.
The elder man shouted something to him, probably in warning; but thesails were making such a thunder of it that his words could not beheard. When the leech was cast loose, the yard gave a heavy pitch, thesail gave a jump that tore it from the hands of the men nearer inboard,and the young fellow, whose balance was upset by the sudden movement,lost his hold and fell back with a sudden cry of fright. He caught atone of the beckets as he slipped; but it carried away, and down hewent, striking the water within a few feet of the frigate's side.
The officer of the deck, who had been roaring up angry imprecations tothe "lazy lubbers" on the yard to "make haste and get in that sail,"jumped back toward the wheel. Carrying the press of canvas she was thenunder, the _Macedonian_ was making not far from thirteen or fourteenknots, and almost directly before the wind. It was no laughing matterto bring her up all standing, as it were; and though men were jumpinghere and there, hauling and heaving with the added strength that comesfrom the dread cry "Man overboard!" it was almost five minutes beforethe great ship had headed up, and during that time she had left thespot where the poor lad had gone down, by a mile and more. TheLieutenant, when he had given his first order, had thrown overboard oneof the boat's gratings, and this had been followed by one of thechicken coops on the forecastle. With the squall coming down upon her,and the stiff wind increasing every minute, the _Macedonian_ lurched upand down, almost burying her nose in the roaring, tumbling sea. Everyone was on deck.
"'Tis no use trying to lower away a boat now, Mr. Edwards," observedCaptain Stewart. "'Twould be only risking the lives of brave men. Standby for a few minutes and keep sharp lookout." Although it was blowinghard, the air was filled with a thick, gray mist, and the sky nowappeared to close down upon the water. It was a lonely, fearful placefor a man to be out there in the waste of the waters, fighting for hislife. It was a lonely, fearful feeling for men to have who must leavehim there. And they all knew him well; they liked him, for he was acheerful, laughing lad. The old sailor who had been on the yard armwith him had descended to the deck. He was telling it breathlessly tothe men gathered about him.
"Why," said he, "I hollers to him to be careful when the sail fetchedaway. It was just as if the yard tried to fling him off like that." Hesnapped his fingers at arm's length.
A man who was standing on one of the anchor-flukes well forwardsuddenly pointed out to leeward. The English frigate, that had beenlast seen holding a course due west, was now, evidently, engaged inmaking all snug for the coming blow. She had heaved to, and was nowlying with topsail aback, rearing and plunging,--sometimes pitchingdown until her hull was completely hidden in the hollows of the seas.The mist had blown away. A clear, shadowless, distance-killing lightsucceeded it. It was hard to tell whether the frigate was two milesoff, or whether she was a little toy boat in the near perspective. Butthe heaving water that lay between the ships, crossed with its lines ofwhite, rolling foam, was no toy thing. It had an angry, spiteful look.It was pitiless, and yet had lost the dread that it held when hidden inthe treacherous half-gloom of the mist.
But why had the English frigate come up into the wind? All hands hadrushed to the side. It was almost as if they had forgotten thefrightful cause of their own delaying. Soon all was understood. Therewas a tiny, white speck drifting to the southward of the Englishvessel. It would heave to the top of a great sea and disappear again.
"One of their boats is out!" roared the man who was standing forward,using his hands for a trumpet.
The officers on the quarter-deck had now sighted both the vessel andthe little object far astern of her. The First Lieutenant was squintingthrough the glass and talking excitedly.
"Egad, sir, I can make it out; there's a man clinging to a cask orsomething just to leeward of that cutter. There are eight good men inthat boat, I can tell you," he added, "but I think they have lost sightof him."
The lashings of the whaleboat, which most American vessels carried, hadbeen cast loose some time before. The Captain touched the Lieutenant onthe arm.
"He's as near to us as he is to them; call away the whaleboat," he saidquietly; and then, turning to a young, boyish-looking officer,--one ofthe senior midshipmen,--he said, "Mr. Emmett, you will go with her."
"Clear away the bowlines!" roared the Lieutenant. "Man theafter-braces! Be lively, lads--lower away!"
With a cheer, the men of the crew--picked oarsmen and ex-whalemen theywere--Nantucket and New Bedford fellows--jumped to the side. The long,narrow boat was lowered with half her crew in her. The other half sliddown the falls. Mr. Edwards leaned over the side, holding his hat onwith both his hands.
"Mr. Emmett," cried he, "you bring back that man; don't let theBritishers beat you!"
The midshipman looked up, touched his cap, and grinned.
The man handling the steering-oar was a grizzled, hawk-noseddown-easter. Many a time had he brought his boat up to the side of awhale when the seas were running high, and when it would have appearedthat a small boat could not have lived, much less fight the greatest,strongest beast to be found on all this earth.
The excitement of the moment cut into the blood of the oarsmen. Theywere going down with the wind, and they fairly jumped the boat from onewave-crest to the other. But occasionally, as a heavier sea would comeup astern of them, they would race down and lag for an instant in thehollow until lifted by the next.
The tall Yankee must have been reminded of the time when he raced withthe other rival boats in order to get fast with the harpoon first, forhe began encouraging in the old whaleman fashion:--
"Give way, my lads, give way! A long, steady stroke now! Do ye lovegin? A bottle of gin to the best man!" forgetting that he was no longerthe first mate of the old _Penobscot_. "Oh, pile it on while you havebreath! pile it on! On with the beef, my bullies!"
The men, with set teeth and straining backs, were catching togetherbeautifully, despite the fact that the wind threatened to twist theoars out of their grasp. The little middy, sitting in the stern sheets,had folded his arms; but he was swinging backward and forward to everylift and heave, with the same strange grin upon his face. And now thesteersman caught sight of the English boat as she hove up to the top ofa great wave. It was plain that they had lost sight of the object theywere seeking. "Oars!" cried the steersman. The men ceased rowing, andwatched him with anxious and nervous eyes, waiting for the word to getdown to it again.
"There he is, Mr. Emmett! about a half a mile away there, sir, almostdead ahead! And egad, they see him too!" for just
as he had spoken theEnglish sweeps had caught the water with a plash.
Once more the boat-steerer's tongue was set awagging. It was a race nowdown the two sides of a triangle; a fair race and a grand one.
"Every devil's imp of you pull! No talking; lay back to it! Now ornever!" yelled the steerer.
The heavy English cutter, with her eight men at the oars, had caughtthe fever too, and the five rowers in the Yankee boat had work cut outfor them. The midshipman was now standing up, balancing himself easily,with his legs spread wide apart.
"We'll have that man, my lads!" he shrieked. "Only think he's ours, andthere's no mistake, he will be ours! Give way, give way! Now we havehim!"
The man could now plainly be seen, clinging to the top of the chickencoop.
"It's Brant, of the starboard watch, sir," said the steersman, leaningover. "Harkee, he sees us."
It appeared as if both boats would arrive at the same moment, whensuddenly a most surprising thing occurred. The man waved his hand, andleaving the small but buoyant raft that had supported him, he plungedhead first into the water and struck out for the whaleboat hand overhand. The bow oar leaned over and caught him by the back of the shirt.A quick heave, and he was landed between the thwarts.
"'Now we have him, lads!'"]
"I hated to spoil a good race, messmates," he panted, "or I'd come offto you before."
The English cutter was now alongside. The men in the two boats werelooking at one another curiously.
"Thank you very much for your trouble," cried Midshipman Emmett, takingoff his hat, and having to shout his words very slowly and distinctlyin order for them to be heard.
"Nothing at all, I assure you, sir," came the answer from the young manin the other boat. "We saw the whole thing happen, and would have beenglad to pick him up for you. This is Mr. Farren of the _Hebe_."
"This is Mr. Emmett of the _Macedonian_. Good day!"
"Good day!"
The stern way of the English vessel had carried her well to leeward ofthe boats; the frigate had come about, and was slowly bearing down topick the whaleboat up. Amid great cheering she was hoisted in at thedavits. The hero of the occasion saluted the quarter-deck and walkedforward through the crowd, whose anxiety had now changed to merriment.At last he saw the old sailor who had been on the main topsail-yardwith him.
"Bill," said he, "what was you sayin' when I left the yard to umpirethat thar race?"