My Danish Sweetheart: A Novel. Volume 2 of 3

  CHAPTER IV.

  A SAILOR'S DEATH.

  The day slipped away; there were no more disputes; Thomas went to liedown, and, when Jacob took the tiller, Abraham took a little book out ofhis locker and read it, with his lips moving, holding it out at arms'length, as though it were a daguerreotype that was only discernible in acertain light. I asked him the name of the book.

  'The Boible,' said he. 'It's the Sabbath, master, and I always read achapter of this here book on Sundays.'

  Helga started.

  'It is Sunday, indeed!' she exclaimed. 'I had forgotten it. How swiftlydo the days come round! It was a week last night since we left the bay,and this day week my father was alive--my dear father was alive!'

  She opened the parcel and took out the little Bible that had belonged toher mother. I had supposed it was in Danish, but on my taking it fromher I found it an English Bible. But then I recollected that her motherhad been English. I asked her to read aloud to me, and she did so,pronouncing every word in a clear, sweet voice. I recollect it was achapter out of the new Testament, and while she read Abraham put downhis book to listen, and Jacob leant forward from the tiller with astraining ear.

  In this fashion the time passed.

  I went to my miserable bed of spare sail under the overhanging deckshortly after nine o'clock that night. This unsheltered opening wastruly a cold, windy, miserable bedroom for a man who could not in anyway claim that he was used to hardship. Indeed, the wretchedness of theaccommodation was as much a cause as any other condition of oursituation of my wild, headlong impatience to get away from the luggerand sail for home in a ship that would find me shelter and a bed androom to move in, and those bare conveniences of life which were lackingaboard the _Early Morn_.

  Well, as I have said, shortly after nine o'clock on that Sunday I badegood-night to Abraham, who was steering the vessel, and entered mysleeping abode, where Jacob was lying rolled up in a blanket, snoringheavily. It was then a dark night, but the wind was scant, and the watersmooth, and but little motion of swell in it. I had looked for a star,but there was none to be seen, and then I had looked for a ship's light,but the dusk stood like a wall of blackness within a musket-shot of thelugger's sides--for that was about as far as one could see the dimcrawling of the foam to windward and its receding glimmer on the otherhand--and there was not the faintest point of green or red or whiteanywhere visible.

  I lay awake for some time: sleep could make but little headway againstthe battery of snorts and gasps which the Deal boatman, lying closebeside me, opposed to it. My mind also was uncommonly active with worryand anxiety. I was dwelling constantly upon my mother, recalling her asI had last seen her by the glow of the fire in her little parlour when Igave her that last kiss and ran out of the house. It is eight days ago,thought I; and it seemed incredible that the time should have thusfled. Then I thought of Helga, the anguish of heart the poor girl hadsuffered, her heroic acceptance of her fate, her simple piety, herfriendlessness and her future.

  In this way was my mind occupied when I fell asleep, and I afterwardsknew that I must have lain for about an hour wrapped in the heavyslumber that comes to a weary man at sea.

  I was awakened by a sound of the crashing and splintering of wood. Thiswas instantly succeeded by a loud and fearful cry, accompanied by thenoise of a heavy splash, immediately followed by hoarse shouts. One ofthe voices I believed was Abraham's, but the blending of the distressedand terrified bawlings rendered them confounding, and scarcelydistinguishable. It was pitch dark where I lay. I got on to my knees tocrawl out; but some spare sail that Abraham had contrived as a shelterfor me had slipped from its position, and obstructed me, and I lay uponmy knees wrestling for a few minutes before I could free myself. In thistime my belief was that the lugger had been in collision with some blackshadow of a ship invisible to the helmsman in the darkness, and thatshe might be now, even while I kneeled wrestling with the sail, goingdown under us, with Helga, perhaps, still in the forepeak. This causedme to struggle furiously, and presently I got clear of the blinding andhugging folds of the canvas; but I was almost spent with fear andexertion.

  Someone continued to shout, and by the character of his cries I gatheredthat he was hailing a vessel close to. It was blowing a sharp squall ofwind, and raining furiously. The darkness was that of the inside of amine, and all that I could see was the figure of a boatman leaning overthe side and holding the lantern (that was kept burning all night) on alevel with the gunwale while he shouted, and then listened, and thenshouted again.

  'What has happened?' I cried.

  The voice of Jacob, though I could not see him, answered, in a tone Ishall never forget for the misery and consternation of it:

  'The foremast's carried away, and knocked poor old Tommy overboard. He'sdrownded! he's drownded! He don't make no answer. His painted clothesand boots have took him down as if he was a dipsy lead.'

  'Can he swim?' I cried.

  'No, sir, no!'

  I sprang to where Abraham overhung the rail.

  'Will he be lying fouled by the gear over the side, do you think?' Icried to the man.

  'No, sir,' answered Abraham: 'he drifted clear. He sung out once as hewent astern. What a thing to happen! Can't launch the punt with thelugger a wreck,' he added, talking as though he thought aloud in hismisery. 'We'd stand to lose the lugger if we launch the punt.'

  'Listen!' shouted Jacob, and he sent his voice in a bull-like roar intothe blackness astern: 'Tom-mee!'

  There was nothing to be heard but the shrilling of the sharp-edgedsquall rushing athwart the boat, that now lay beam on to it, and theslashing noise of the deluge of rain, horizontally streaming, and thegrinding of the wrecked gear alongside, with frequent sharp slaps of therising sea against the bends of the lugger, and the fierce snarling ofmelting heads of waters suddenly and savagely vexed and flashed intospray while curling.

  'What is it?' cried the voice of Helga in my ear.

  'Ah, thank Heaven, you are safe!' I cried, feeling for her hand andgrasping it. 'A dreadful thing has happened. The lugger has beendismasted, and the fall of the spar has knocked the man Thomasoverboard.'

  'He may be swimming!' she exclaimed.

  'No! no! no!' growled Abraham, in a voice hoarse with grief. 'He'sgone--he's gone! we shall never see him again.' Then his note suddenlychanged. 'Jacob, the raffle alongside must be got in at wonst: let'sbear a hand afore the sea jumps aboard. Lady, will you hold the loight?Mr. Tregarthen, we shall want you to help us.'

  'Willingly!' I cried.

  I remembered at that moment that my oilskin coat lay in the side of theboat close to where I stood. I stooped and felt it, and in a moment Ihad whipped it over Helga's shoulders, for she was now holding thelantern, and I had her clear in my sight. It would be a godsend to her,I knew, in the wet that was now sluicing past us, and that must speedilyhave soaked her to the skin, clad as she was.

  For the next few minutes all was bustle and hoarse shouts. I see littleHelga, now, hanging over the side and swinging the lantern, that itslight might touch the wreckage; I see the crystals of rain flashing pastthe lantern, and blinding the glass of it with wet; I feel again therush of the fierce squall upon my face, making breathing a labour, whileI grab hold of the canvas, and help the men to drag the great, soddenheavy sail into the boat. We worked desperately, and, as I have said, ina few minutes we had got the whole of the sail out of the water; but themast was too heavy to handle in the blackness, and it was left to floatclear of us by the halliards till daylight should come.

  We were wet through, and chilled to the heart besides--I speak ofmyself, at least--not more by the sharp bite of that black, wet squall,than by the horror occasioned by the sudden loss of a man, by thethought of one as familiar to the sight as hourly association could makehim, who was just now living and talking, lying cold and still, sinkingfathoms deep into the heart of that dark measureless profound on whosesurface the lugger--in all probability the tiniest ark at that momentafloat in the oceans she was atte
mpting to traverse--was tumbling.

  'Haul aft the mizen sheet, Jacob!' said Abraham in a voice hoarseindeed, but marked with depression also. 'Ye can secure the tiller too.She must loie as she is till we can see what we're about.'

  The man went aft with the lantern. He speedily executed Abraham'sorders; but by the aid of the dim lantern light I could see him standingmotionless in the stern-sheets, as though hearkening and straining hisgaze.

  'He's gone, Abraham!' he cried suddenly in a rough voice that trembledwith emotion. 'There will be never no more to hear of Tommy Budd. Ay,gone dead--drownded for ever!' I heard him mutter, as he picked up thelantern and came with heavy booted legs clambering over the thwarts tous.

  'As God's my loife, how sudden it were!' cried Abraham, making his handsmeet in a sharp report in the passion of grief with which he clappedthem.

  It was still raining hard, and the atmosphere was of a midnightblackness; but all the hardness of the squall was gone out of the wind,and it was now blowing a steady breeze, such as we should have beenable to expose our whole lugsail to could we have hoisted it. Jacobheld the lantern to the mast, or rather to the fragment that remained ofit. You must know that a Deal lugger's mast is stepped in what is termeda 'tabernacle'--that is to say, a sort of box, which enables the crew tolower or set up their masts at will. This 'tabernacle' with us stood alittle less than two feet above the forepeak deck, and the mast had beenbroken at some ten feet above it. It showed in very ugly, fang-likepoints.

  'Two rotten masts for such a voyage as this!' cried Jacob, with a savagenote in his voice. ''Tis old Thompson's work. Would he was in Tommy'splace! S'elp me! I'd give half the airnings of this voyage for thechance to drown him!' By which I might gather that he referred to theboat-builder who had supplied the masts.

  'No use in standing in this drizzle, men,' said I. 'It's a bad job, butthere's nothing to be done for the present, Abraham. There's shelter tobe got under this deck, here. Have you another lantern?'

  'What for?' asked Abraham, in the voice of a man utterly broken down.

  'Why, to show,' said I, 'lest we should be run into. Here we arestationary, you know, and who's to see us as we lie?'

  'And a blooming good job if we _was_ run into!' returned Abraham.'Blarst me if I couldn't chuck moyself overboard!'

  'Nonsense!' cried I, alarmed by his tone rather than by his words. 'Letus get under shelter! Here, Jacob, give me the light! Now, Helga, crawlin first and show us the road. Abraham, in with you! Jacob, take thislantern, will you, and get one of those jars of spirits you took off theraft, and a mug and some cold water! Abraham will be the better for adram, and so will you.'

  The jar was procured, and each man took a hearty drink. I, too, foundcomfort in a dram, but I could not induce Helga to put the mug to herlips. The four of us crouched under the overhanging deck--there was noheight, and, indeed, no breadth for an easier posture. We set thelantern in our midst--I had no more to say about showing the light--andin this dim irradiation we gazed at one another. Abraham's countenancelooked of a ghostly white. Jacob, with mournful gestures, filled apipe, and his melancholy visage resembled some grotesque face beheld ina dream as he opened the lantern and thrust his nose, with a largeraindrop hanging at the end of it, close to the flame to light thetobacco.

  'To think that I should have had a row with him only this marning!'growled Abraham, hugging his knees. 'What roight had I to go and sarcehim about his rent? Will any man tell me,' said he, slowly lookinground, 'that poor old Tommy's heart warn't in the roight place? Oi hopenot, Oi hope not--Oi couldn't abear to hear it said. He was a man as hadhad to struggle hard for his bread, like others along of us, anddisappointment and want and marriage had tarned his blood hacid. Oi'veknown him to pass three days without biting a crust. The wery bed onwhich he lay was took from him. Yet he bore up, and without th'help o'drink, and I says that to the pore chap's credit.'

  He paused.

  'At bottom,' exclaimed Jacob, sucking hard at his inch of sooty clay,'Tommy was a _man_. He once saved my loife. You remember, Abey, that jobI had along with him when we was a-towing down on the quarter of a biglight Spaniard?'

  'I remember, I remember,' grunted Abraham.

  'The boat sheered,' continued Jacob, addressing me, 'and got agin thesteamer's screw, and the stroke of the blade cut the boat roight inhalves. They chucked us a loife-buoy. Poor old Tommy got hold of it andheads for me, who were drowning some fadoms off. He clutched me by thehair just in toime, and held me till we was picked up. And now _he's_gone dead and we shall never see him no more.'

  'Tommy Budd,' exclaimed Abraham, 'was that sort of man that he nevertook a pint himself without asking a chap to have a glass tew, if so beas he had the valley of it on him. There was no smarter man fore and aftthe beach in steering a galley-punt. There was scarce a regatta but whathe was fust.'

  'He was a upright man,' said Jacob, observing that Abraham had paused;'and never mere upright than when he warn't sober, which proves how truehis instincts was. When his darter got married to young darkey Dick, asTommy didn't think a sootable match, he walks into the room of thepublic-house where the company was dancing and enjoying themselves,kicked the whole blooming party out into the road, then sits down, andcalls for a glass himself. Of course he'd had a drop too much. But thedrink only improved his nat'ral disloike of the wedding. Pore Tommy!Abey, pass along that jar!'

  In this fashion these plain, simple-hearted souls of boatmen continuedfor sometime, with now and again an interlude in the direction of thespirit-jar, to bewail the loss of their unhappy shipmate. Our situation,however, was of a sort that would not suffer the shock caused by the manThomas's death to be very lasting. Here we were in what was littlebetter than an open boat of eighteen tons, lying dismasted, and entirelyhelpless, amid the solitude of a black midnight in the Atlantic Ocean,with nothing but an already wounded mast to depend upon when daybreakshould come to enable us to set it up, and the lugger's slender crewless by one able hand!

  It was still a thick and drizzling night, with a plentiful sobbing ofwater alongside; but the _Early Morn_, under her little mizzen and withher bows almost head to sea, rose and fell quietly. By this time themen had pretty well exhausted their lamentations over Thomas. Itherefore ventured to change the subject.

  'Now there are but two of you,' said I, 'I suppose you'll up with yourmast to-morrow morning and make for home?'

  'No fear!' answered Abraham, speaking with briskness out of the drams hehad swallowed. 'We're agoing to Australey, and if so be as another of usain't taken we'll _git_ there.'

  'But surely you'll not continue this voyage with the outfit you nowhave?' said I.

  'Well,' said he, 'we shall have to "fish" the mast that's sprung and tryand make it sarve till we falls in with a wessel as'll give us a soundspar to take the mast's place. Anyhow, we shall keep all on.'

  'Ay, we shall keep all on,' said Jacob: 'no use coming all this way totarn back again. Why, Gor' bless me! what 'ud be said of us?'

  'But, surely,' said Helga, 'two of you'll not be able to manage this bigboat?'

  'Lord love 'ee, yes, lady,' cried Abraham. 'Mind ye, if we was outa-pleasuring I should want to get home; but there's money to take up atthe end of this ramble, and Jacob and me means to airn it.'

  Thus speaking, he crawled out to have a look at the weather, and was amoment later followed by Jacob, and presently I could hear them bothearnestly consulting on what was to be done when the morning came, andhow they were to manage afterwards, now that Thomas was gone.

  The light of the lantern lay upon Helga's face as she sat close besideme on the spare sail that had formed my rough couch.

  'What further experiences are we to pass through?' said I.

  'Little you guessed what was before you when you came off to us in thelifeboat, Hugh!' said she, gazing gently at me with eyes which seemedblack in the dull light.

  'These two boatmen,' said I, 'are very good fellows, but there is apig-headedness about them that does not improve our distress
. Theirresolution to proceed might appear as a wonderful stroke of courage to alandsman's mind, but to a sailor it could signify nothing more than therankest foolhardiness. A plague upon their heroism! A little timiditywould mean common-sense, and then to-morrow morning we should be headingfor home. But I fear you are wet through, Helga.'

  'No, your oilskin has kept me dry,' she answered.

  'No need for you to stay here,' said I. 'Why not return to the forepeakand finish out the night?'

  'I would rather remain with you.'

  'Ay, Helga, but you must spare no pains to fortify yourself with restand food. Who knows what the future may be holding for us--how heavilythe pair of us may yet be tried? These experiences, so far, may provebut a few links of a chain whose end is still a long way off.'

  She put her hand on the back of mine, and tenderly stroked it.

  'Hugh,' said she, 'remember our plain friend Abraham's advice: do notlet imagination run away with you. The spirit that brought you to theside of the _Anine_ in the black and dreadful night is still your own.Cheer up! All will be well with you yet. What makes me say this? Icannot tell, if it be not the conviction that God will not leaveunwatched one whose trials have been brought about by an act of noblecourage and of beautiful resolution.'

  She continued to caress my hand as she spoke--an unconscious gesture inher, as I perceived--maybe it was a habit of her affectionate heart, andI could figure her thus caressing her father's hand, or the hand of adear friend. Her soft eyes were upon my face as she addressed me, andthere was light enough to enable me to distinguish a little encouragingsmile full of sweetness upon her lips.

  If ever strength is to be given to a man in a time of bitter anxiety andperil, the inspiration of spirit must surely come from such a littlewoman as this. I felt the influence of her manner and of her presence.

  'You have a fine spirit, Helga,' said I. 'Your name should be Nelsoninstead of Nielsen. The blood of nothing short of the greatest ofEnglish captains should be in your veins.'

  She laughed softly and answered, 'No, no! I am a Dane first. Let me bean English girl next.'

  Well, I again endeavoured to persuade her to withdraw to her bunk, butshe begged hard to remain with me, and so for a long while we continuedto sit and talk. Her speaking of herself as a Dane first and anEnglishwoman afterwards, started her on the subject of her home andchildhood, and once again she talked of Kolding and of her mother, andof the time she had spent in London, and of an English school she hadbeen put to. I could overhear the rumbling of the two fellows' voicesoutside. By-and-by I crawled out and found the rain had ceased; but itwas pitch dark, and blowing a cold wind. Jacob had lighted the fire inthe stove. His figure showed in the ruddy glare as he squatted toastinghis hands. I returned to Helga, and presently Abraham arrived to ask usif we would have a drop of hot coffee. This was a real luxury at such atime. We gratefully took a mugful, and with the help of it made amidnight meal off a biscuit and a little tinned meat.

  How we scraped through those long, dark, wet hours I will not pretend todescribe. Towards the morning Helga fell asleep by my side on the sailupon which we were crouching, but for my part I could get no rest, nor,indeed, did I strive or wish for rest. One thing coming on top ofanother had rendered me unusually nervous, and all the while I wasthinking that our next experience might be the feeling some greatshearing stem of a sailing-ship or steamer striking into the lugger anddrowning the lot of us before we could well realize what had happened. Iwas only easy in my mind when the boatmen carried the lantern out fromunder the overhanging deck for some purpose or other.

  It came at last, however, to my being able no longer to conceal myapprehensions, and then, after some talk and a bit of hearty'pooh-poohing' on the part of Abraham, he consented to secure the lightto the stump of the mast.

  This might have been at about half-past three o'clock in the morning,when the night was blacker than it had been at any previous hour: andthen a very strange thing followed. I had returned to my shelter, andwas sitting lost in thought, for Helga was now sleeping. The two boatmenwere in the open, but what they were about I could not tell you. I wassunk deep in gloomy thought, as I have said, when on a sudden I heard asound of loud bawling. I went out as quickly as my knees would carryme, and the first thing I saw was the green light of a ship glimmeringfaintly as a glowworm out in the darkness abeam. I knew her to be asailing-ship, for she showed no masthead-light, but there was not thedimmest outline to be seen of her. Her canvas threw no pallor upon themidnight wall of atmosphere. But for that fluctuating green light,showing so illusively that one needed to look a little on one side of itto catch it, the ocean would have been as bare as the heavens, so far asthe sight went. One after the other the two boatmen continued to shout,'Ship ahoy!' in hearty, roaring voices, which they sent flying throughthe arches of their hands; but the light went sliding on, and in a fewminutes the screen in which it was hung eclipsed it, and it was allblackness again, look where one would.

  There was nothing to be said about this to the men. I crept back toHelga, who had been awakened by the hoarse shouts.

  'Some sailing-vessel has passed us,' said I, in answer to her inquiry,'as we may know by the green light; but how near or far I cannot tell.Yet it is more likely than not, Helga, that but for my begging Abrahamto keep a light showing, that same ship might have run us down.'

  We conversed awhile about the vessel and our chances, and then her voicegrew languid again with drowsiness, and she fell asleep.

  Somewhile before dawn the rain ceased, the sky brightened, and here andthere a star showed. I had been out overhanging the gunwale withAbraham, and listening to him as he talked about his mate Thomas, andhow the children were to manage now that the poor fellow was taken, whenthe gray of the dawn rose floating into the sky off the black rim of thesea.

  In a short time the daylight was abroad, with the pink of the coming sunswiftly growing in glory among the clouds in the east. Jacob satsleeping in the bottom of the boat, squatting Lascar fashion--a huddleof coat and angular knees and bowed head. I got upon a thwart and sent along thirsty look round.

  'By Heaven, Abraham!' I cried, '_nothing_ in sight, as I live to say it!What, in the name of hope, has come to the sea?'

  'We're agoing to have a fine day, I'm thankful to say,' he answered,turning up his eyes. 'But, Lord! what a wreck the lugger looks!'

  The poor fellow was as haggard as though he had risen from a sick-bed,and this sudden gauntness or elongation of countenance was not a littleheightened by a small powdering of the crystals of salt lying whiteunder the hollow of each eye, where the brine that had been swept up bythe squall had lodged and dried.

  'Hi, Jacob!' he cried; 'rouse up, matey! Day's broke, and there's workto be done.'

  Jacob staggered to his feet with many contortions and grimaces.

  'Chock-a-block with rheumatics,' he growled; 'that's how the sea sarvesa man. They said it 'ud get warmer the furder we drawed down this way;but if this be what they calls _warm_, give me the scissors andthumbscrews of a Janivary gale in the Jarman Ocean.' He gazed slowlyaround him, and fixed his eyes on the stump of the mast. 'Afore webegin, Abraham,' said he, 'I must have a drop of hot corffee.'

  'Right,' answered the other; 'a quarter of an hour isn't going to makeany difference.'

  A fire was kindled, a kettle of water boiled, and, Helga now arriving,the four of us sat, every one with a mug of the comforting, steamingbeverage in hand, while the two boatmen settled the procedure ofstrengthening the wounded spar by 'fishing it,' as it is termed, and ofmaking sail afresh.