CHAPTER XXV.
BRUTUS: O that a man might know The end of this day's business ere it come! But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.
_Julius Caesar._
When Jack got on board the North Star he found that, although he hadshipped as working passenger, the wily mate had taken him as one of thecrew, with the intention, doubtless, of pocketing the wages whichotherwise would have gone to the sailor who would have been employed.Several of the sailors were rather intoxicated, and the rest were justgetting over a spree. They came down into the forecastle just beforeleaving, and seeing Jack there, whom they did not know, were verysilent. One of them at last said:
"Is every man here a Union man?"
Jack knew he was not, and that, being ignorant of secret signs, he wouldperhaps be found out. He answered, "I don't belong to the Union."
The man who spoke first then, said sulkily: "That settles it; I'm goingashore. The rules says that no member shall sail on a vessel if there isany scab on board."
Jack understood from this, after a moment's thought, that thisexpression must refer to one who did not avail himself of the healthyprivileges of the Sailors' Union.
He explained that he was only going as a passenger, and was not underpay.
This seemed to make the matter satisfactory, and after the malcontentquieted down they all got to work peacefully. It took them a long timeto get all the canvas set while the tug towed the vessel out of andbeyond the harbor.
Jack found he was no match for these men in the toil of making heavycanvas. He felt like a child among them. The halyards were so large andcoarse to the touch, and after being exposed to the weather, their fiberwas like fine wire and ate into his hands painfully, although thelatter were well enough seasoned for yachting work. His hands almostrefused to hold the ropes when they had got thoroughly scalded in thework, and by the time all the canvas was set he was ready to drop on thedeck with exhaustion.
He was on the mate's watch. This man saw that, although Jack wasphysically inferior, his knowledge seemed all right. This puzzled thesailors. He was dressed in clothes which had looked rough and plebeianon the Ideal, but here he was far too well dressed. If there were tearsin his clothes and in his hat, there were no patches anywhere, and thisseemed to be, _prima facie_, a suspicious circumstance. He regrettedthat his clothes were not down to the standard. After being reviled onthe yachts because they were so disreputable, he now felt that they wereso particularly aristocratic that he longed for the garments of a tramp.He saw that if the sailors suspected that he was not one of themselvesby profession they would send him to Coventry for the rest of the trip.This would be unpleasant, for as the men got sober they provedgood-humored fellows in their way, although full of cranks and queerideas.
At eight bells, on the first night, Jack came on deck in a long ulster,which, although used for duck-shooting and sailing for five years sinceit last saw King Street, was still painfully whole. The vessel was lyingover pretty well and thrashing through the waves in creditable style.The watch just going off duty had "put it up" with the mate that Jackshould be sent aloft to stow the fore-gafftopsail.
They could not make Jack out. And when he went up the weather-rigging,after slipping out of the ulster, every man on board except the captainwas covertly watching him--wondering how he would get through the task.The topsail had been "clewed up" at the masthead--and was banging aboutin the strong wind like a suspended Chinese lantern.
Suppose a person were to tie together the four corners of a newdrawing-room carpet, and were then to hoist it in this shape to the topof a tall pine tree bending in the wind to an angle of thirty degrees.Let him now climb up, and with a single long line master the bangingmass by winding the line tightly around it from the top down to thebottom, and afterward secure the long bundle to the side of the tree. Ifthis be done, by way of experiment, while the seeker after knowledgeholds himself on as best he can by his legs, and performs the operationon a black night entirely by the sense of touch he will understand partof what our lake sailors have to do.
Jack, to say truly, had all he wanted. The sail was a new one. Thecanvas and the bolt-ropes were so stiff as to almost defy his strength.But he got it done and descended, tired enough. All hands were satisfiedthat he knew a good deal, and yet they said they were sure he was "notquite the clean wheat." The ulster had been very damaging.
The evening of the second day saw them still working down the lake, andhaving had some favorable slants of wind they had got well on their way.As Jack's watch went below at midnight, a fog had settled over the sea,and he was glad to get down out of the cold, and have a comfortablesmoke before turning into his old camping blankets for the rest of hisfour hours off.
By the light of a bad-smelling tin lamp nailed against the Samson-post,and sitting on a locker beside one of the swinging anchor chains thatcame down through the hawse pipe from the deck above into the fore-peakunder the man's feet, one of the sailors fell to telling one of his manyadventures on the lakes. There was no attempt at humor in this story. Itwas a simple, artless tale of deadly peril, cold, exhaustion, andprivation on our inland sea. It was told with a terrible earnestness,born of a realization of the awful anxiety that had stamped upon hisperfect memory every little detail that occurred.
This was an experience when, in the month of December, the schooner hewas then sailing on had been sent on a last trip from Oswego to Toronto.They had almost got around the Lighthouse Point at Toronto, after adesperately cold passage, when a gale struck them, and, not being ableto carry enough canvas to weather the point, they were thus driven downthe lake again with the sails either blown from the bolt-ropes or splitto ribbons, with the exception of a bit of the foresail, with which theyran before the wind. To go to South Bay would probably mean being frozenin all winter, and perhaps the loss of the ship, so the captain headedfor Oswego, hoping the snow and sleet would clear off to enable them tosee the harbor when they got there. On the way down a huge sea came overthe stern, stove in the cabin, and smashed the compasses.
"We hedn't kept no dead reckonin', an' we cudn't tell anyways how fastwe wus goin'. We just druv' on afore it for hours. Cudn't see more'n avessel's length anywheres for snow, and, as for ice, we wus makin' iceon top of her like you'd think we wus a-loadin' ice from a elevator; wewus just one of 'Greenland's icy mountings' gone adrift. Waal, the oldman guv it up at last, and acknowledged the corn right up and up. Sayshe, 'Boys, she's a goner. We've druv' down below and past Oswego, andthat's the last of her.'"
"This looked pretty bad--fur the old man to collapse all up like this;fur all on yer knows as well as I do that to get down below Oswego in awesterly gale in December means that naathin' is goin' to survive butthe insurance. There's no harbors, ner shelter, ner lifeboats, nernaathin'. Yer anchors are no more use to yer off that shore than abusted postage-stamp. Thet's the time, boys, fur to jine the SalvationArmy and trample down Satan under yer feet and run her fur the shore andpray to God for a soft spot and lots of power fer to drive her well upinto a farm.
"Waal, gents, the old man tuckered out, and went off to his cabin fur tomake it all solid with his 'eavenly parents, and two or three of uschaps as hed been watchin' things pretty close come to the conclusionthet we hedn't got below Oswego yet. So we all went in a body, as a kindo' depitation from ourselves, and says us to the old man: 'Hev you guvup the nevigation of this vessel? becus, ef yer hev, there's others hereas wud like to take a whack at playin' captain.'
"'All right,' says the old man from his knees (fur he was down gettin'the prayers ready-made out of a book), 'I've guv her up,' says he; 'doyou jibe your fores'l and head her fur the sutherd and look out for asoft spot. Yer kin do what yer likes with her.'
"So we jibes the fores'l then, just puttin' the wheel over and lettin'the wind do the rest of it, fer there was six inches of ice on to thesheets, and yer couldn't touch a line anywheres unless yer got i
n to itwith a axe. Waal, the old fores'l flickers across without carryin' awaynaathin', and, just as we did this, another vessel heaves right acrossthe course we bed been a-driven' on. Our helm was over and the ship wasa-swingin' when we sighted her, or else we'd have cut her in two like abloomin' cowcumber. And then we seed our chance. That ere vessel wasgoin' along, on the full kioodle, with every appearance of knowin' whereshe was goin' to--which we didn't. 'Hooray!' says we, 'we ain't belowOswego yet, and that vessel will show us the road. She's got the duecourse from somewheres, and she's our only chance.'
"And we follered her. You can bet your Sunday pants we was everlastin'lyright on her track. She was all we hed, boys, 'tween us and th' etarnalnever-endin' psalm. Death seemed like a awful cold passage that time,boys! We wus all frost-bit and froze up ginerally; and clothes weren'tno better'n paper onto us."
"But she had a _leetle_ more fores'l onto her than we hed; and after awhile she begun to draw away from us. We hed naathin' left more to setfer to catch up with her. We hollered to make her ease up, but she paidno attention. Guess she didn't hear, or thought we hed our compasses allright--which we hedn't. Waal, gents, it was a awful time. Our lastchance was disappearin' in the snow-storm, and there wus us left there,'most froze to death, and not knowin' where to go. Yer cudn't see her,thro' the snow, more'n two lengths ahead; and, when she got past that,all yer cud see was the track of her keel in the water right under ourbows. Well, fellows, I got down furrud on the chains, and we 'stablisheda line o' signals from me along the rest of them to the man at thewheel. If I once lost that tract in the water we wus done forever.Sometimes I wus afeared I hed lost it, and then I got it again, and thenit seemed to grow weaker; and I thought a little pray to God would do noharm. And I lifts up my hand--so--"
The man had left his seat and was crouching on the floor as he told thispart of the story. The words rolled out with a terrific energy as heglared down at the floor, stooping in the attitude in which he hadwatched the track in the water. The tones of his voice had a wild terrorin them that thrilled Jack to the very core, and made him feel as if hecould not breathe.
"And I lifts up me hand--so (and, gents, I wus lookin' at that streak inthe water. I want yer to understand I was a-lookin' at it). And I liftsup me hand--so--and I says 'Holy Christ, don't let that vessel get offno farderer--'"
The story was never finished.
A sound came to them that seemed to Jack to be only a continuation ofthe horror of the story he had heard. A crash sounded through the shipand they were all knocked off their seats into the fore-peak with asudden shock. They tumbled up on deck in a flash, and there they sawthat a great steamer had mounted partly on top of the schooner'scounter. The mainmast had gone over the side to leeward.
The schooner had been about to cross the steamer's course when theyfirst saw her lights in the fog, and, partly mistaking her direction,the sailing captain had put his ship about. This brought the stern ofthe schooner, as she swung in stays, directly in line with the course ofthe steamer. The steamer's helm was put hard over, and the engines werereversed, but not until within fifty feet of the schooner. The stern ofthe schooner swung around as she turned to go off on the other tack, sothat, although the stem or cutwater of the steamer got past, the counterof the schooner was struck and forced through the steamer's starboardbow under the false sides. When they struck, the schooner's stern wasdepressed in the seaway and the steamer's bow was high in the air, sothat the latter received a deadly blow which tore a hole about six feethigh by ten long in her bow. Both boats went ahead together, chieflyowing to the momentum of the huge steamer. And for a moment thesteamer's false sides rested on what was left of the schooner's counteron the port side.
A man leaning over from the upper deck of the steamer cried:
"What schooner is that?"
"Schooner North Star, of Toronto," was the reply.
The man vaulted over the bulwarks and slid actively down the slopingside of the steamer to the deck of the schooner and looked around him.No sooner had he done so than the motion of the waves parted the twoboats. The steamer ceased to move ahead. The forward canvas of theschooner had caught the wind and she was beginning to pay off on theport tack, the mainmast, mainsail, and rigging dragging in the water.
Jack, who was filled with helpless anxiety, then discovered that thesteamer was the Eleusinian. At the same moment he heard a shriek fromthe bow of the steamer and there he saw Nina, her long hair drivingbehind her, beckoning him to come to help her. The steamer, filling likea broken bottle, had already taken one lurch preparatory to going downand Jack yelled:
"Jump, Nina! Jump into the water and I will save you!"
But Nina, not knowing that the steamer was going down, had not thecourage to cast herself into the black heaving waves.
Jack saw this hesitation, and yelled to her again to jump. He made fastthe end of a coil of light line, and then sprang to the bulwarks to jumpoverboard so that when he swam to the bows of the steamer Nina couldjump into the water near him.
He knew without looking that the schooner, with no after-canvas set,could do nothing at present but fall off and drift away before the wind,as she was now doing, and as her one yawl boat had been smashed to dustin the collision, the only chance for Nina was for him to have a line inhis hand whereby to regain the schooner as it drifted off. It was a wildmoment for Jack, but his nerve was equal to the occasion. While hebelayed the end of the light line to a ring on the bulwarks, he calledto his mates on the schooner to let go everything and douse theirforward canvas.
It takes a long time even to read what had to be done. What Jack did wasdone in a moment; but as he sprang to the bulwarks to vault over theside, a strong pair of arms seized him from behind and held him like avice with his arms at his sides.
"Let me go," he cried, as he struggled in the grasp of a stranger.
"No, sir. You're wanted. I have had trouble enough to get you withoutletting you drown yourself."
Jack struggled wildly; but the more frantic he became the more he rousedthe detective to ferocity. He heaved forward to throw Dearborn over hishead; but the two fell together, crashing their heads upon the deck,where they writhed convulsively.
The iron grip never relaxed. At last Jack, lifting Dearborn with him,got on his feet and, seizing something on the bulwarks to hold himselfin position, he stopped his efforts to escape. "For God's sake," hecried brokenly, "for Christ's sake, let me go! See, there she is! She isgoing to be my wife!"
In his excitement Dearborn forgot that the woman on the steamer mighthave the stolen money with her. To him Jack's jumping overboard promisedcertain death and the loss of a prisoner.
As Jack tried to point to Nina, who was clasping the little flag-pole atthe bow of the steamer--a white figure in the surrounding gloom, wavingand apparently calling to him--he saw the steamer take a slow, sickeninglurch forward, and then a long lurch aft. The bows rose high in the air,with that poor desolate figure clasping the flag-pole, and then theEleusinian slowly disappeared.
For an instant the bows remained above the surface while the air escapedfrom the interior, and the last that could be seen was the white figureclinging desperately to the little mast as if forsaken by all. No powerhad answered her agonies of prayer for deliverance.
* * * * *
After the strong man who had pinioned Jack saw the vessel go down, hebecame aware that he was holding his culprit up rather than down. Helooked around at his face, and there saw a pair of staring eyes thatdiscerned nothing. He laid him on the deck then, and finally placed himin the after-cabin on the floor. Jack did not regain consciousness. Hisbreathing returned only to allow a delirium to supervene. Dearborn and asailor had again to hold him, or he would have plunged over thebulwarks, thinking the steamer had not yet sunk.
The captain's wife, who had been sleeping in the extra berth off theafter-cabin, had been crushed between the timbers when the collisiontook place, and under the frantic orders of the captain the rest of the
crew were trying to extricate the screaming woman. The mate had beendisabled in the falling of the mainmast, so that no attempts were madeto save those who were left swimming when the Eleusinian went down, andthe schooner, under her forward canvas, sailed off, dragging herwreckage after her, slowly, of course, but faster than any one couldswim. Thus no one was saved from the steamer except the detective, whohad not thought of saving his own life when he had dropped to the deckof the schooner, but only of seizing Jack.
The mate was able, after a time, to give his directions while lying onthe deck. The wreckage was chopped away, and the vessel was broughtnearer the wind to raise the injured port quarter well above the wavesuntil canvas could be nailed over the gaping aperture. When this wasdone they squared away before the wind, hoisted the center-board, andmade good time up the lake. They had a fair wind to Port Dalhousie--theonly place available for dockyards and refitting--where they arrived attwo o'clock in the day.
After raving in delirium until they arrived at Port Dalhousie, Jack felloff then into a sleep, and when the Empress of India was ready to leaveat four o'clock for Toronto, Dearborn woke him up and found that hisconsciousness seemed to have partly returned. The detective was pleasedthat the disabled vessel had sought a Canadian port, where his warrantfor Jack's arrest was good. However, the prisoner made no resistance,and at nine o'clock he was duly locked up at Toronto, having remained ina sort of stupor from which nothing could arouse him.
CHAPTER XXVI.