"It's pa.s.sing off now," said Captain Gillespie, when he could make himself heard between the squalls, which now came with a longer interval between them. "Those typhoons always work against the sun, and we've now experienced the worst of it. There goes our last sail, though, and we'll have to run for it now."

As he said the words the storm staysail forward was carried away with a distinct bang, hearing which showed that the wind was not so powerful quite as just now--when one, really, couldn't have heard a thirty-five ton gun fired forwards.

On losing this her only sc.r.a.p of canvas left, the ship half broached to.

Joe Fergusson, however, came to the rescue, no doubt from hearing something the boatswain had said, for the gale was blowing so furiously that the captain would not have thought of ordering a man aloft; for, whether through catching Tim Rooney's remark or from some sailor-like intuition, the ex-bricklayer in the very nick of time voluntarily clambered up the rigging forwards and loosened the weather clew of the foresail.

Mr Mackay who was aft, seeing his purpose, at once told the men at the wheel to put the helm up; when, the Silver Queen's head paying off, she lifted out of the trough of the heavy rolling sea and scudded away nor'- eastwards right before the wind, which had now got back to the normal point of the "trade" we had been sailing with previous to the storm-- when, as this new south-westerly gale was blowing with more than twenty times the force of our original monsoon from the same quarter, the ship, although with only this tiny sc.r.a.p of her foresail set, was soon driving through the water at over twelve knots the hour, in the very direction, too, we wanted her to go, to fetch our port.

"This is what I call turning the tables," yelled the captain, putting both his hands to his mouth for a sort of speaking trumpet as he roared out the words to Mr Mackay at the wheel. "By Jingo, it's turning the tail of a typhoon into a fair wind!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

ATTACKED BY THE PIRATES.

It was "the tail of a typhoon" with a vengeance; for as we raced onwards through the boiling sea, now lit up by a very watery moon, lots of broken spars and timbers could be seen, as well as several junks floating bottom upwards, thus showing what the fury of the storm had been and the damage done by its ravages.

Mr Mackay noticed these bits of wrecks and wreckage as the captain spoke; and, mingled with a feeling of pity for those who had perished in the tornado, came a satisfactory thought to his mind.

"Yes, sir," said he in reply to Captain Gillespie's observation, "we're making a fair wind out of a foul one; but, besides that, sir, we've got something else to thank the typhoon for, under Providence. It has probably settled the hash of those piratical rascals that were chasing us!"

"Humph! I forgot all about 'em," snorted out "Old Jock," equally pleased at this idea. "No doubt they've gone to the bottom, and good luck to 'em too. One can't feel sorry for such vermin as those that are prowling after honest craft, and who'd cut one's throat for a dollar."

"We mustn't be too sure, though, sir," continued the first mate, as if he had been turning the matter over in his mind. "We've managed to weather the gale so far, and so might they. Those fellows are accustomed to these seas and can smell a typhoon coming; so, if they ran to windward in time, instead of lying-to and waiting for it, as we did, they might have got out of it altogether by keeping ahead of it."

"Pooh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed "Old Jock" contemptuously--"I've no fear of being troubled by them again. They're all down in Davy Jones' locker by this; and may joy go with them, as I said before!"

"Well, sir," said Mr Mackay, not pursuing his theory any further, and desirous of turning the conversation, if conversation it can be called when both were holding on still to the life-lines and shouting at each other more than speaking, "what are we to do now?"

"Carry-on, of course," replied "Old Jock," with a squint up at the watery moon and the flying clouds that ever and anon obscured its pale gleams, making everything look black around the moment it was hidden, "There's nothing else to be done but to let her scud before it until the gale has spent its force. I wish we could get up some more sail, though."

"Would it be safe, sir?"

"Safe!" snorted "Old Jock," sniffing with his nose up directly. "Why, what the d.i.c.kens have you got to be afraid of, man? We're now in the open sea, with nothing in the shape of land near us for a hundred miles or more anywhere you chose to cast the lead."

"But, you forget, sir," suggested the other good-humouredly, so as not to anger the "old man," who was especially touchy about his navigation; "you forget the rate the ship's going--over twelve knots?"

"No, I don't forget, Mister Mackay; and, if we were going twenty it wouldn't make the slightest difference," retorted the captain, who was thoroughly roused now, as the first mate could tell by his addressing him as "Mister," which he never did unless pretty well worked up and in a general state of temper. "I'd have you to know I'm captain of my own ship; and when I say a thing I mean a thing! Call up the hands to try and get some more sail on her; for I'm going to make the best of this typhoon now, as it has made the best it could of me--one good turn deserves another."

Of course there was no arguing with him after this; so all Mr Mackay could do was to pa.s.s the word forward for Tim Rooney, and tell him what Captain Gillespie's orders were--there was no good attempting to hail the boatswain, for not a word shouted could be heard beyond the p.o.o.p.

"Begorra, it's a risky game, puttin' sail on her, sorr," said Tim meeting Mr Mackay half-way on the main-deck; "but we moight thry lettin' out a schrap more av the fores'le, if the houl lot don't fetch away."

"We must try it," returned Mr Mackay. "He will have it so."

"All right, sorr, I'm agreeayble, as the man aid whin he wor agoin' to be hung," said Tim Rooney grinning, never taking anything serious for very long; "faix I'll go up mesilf if I can't get none av the hands to volunteer. I couldn't order 'em yet, sorr, for it's more'n a man's loife is worth to get on a yard with this wind."

"Very good, Rooney, do your best," replied Mr Mackay. "Only don't run into any danger. We can't afford to loose you, bo'sun."

"Troth I'll take care av that same, sorr," returned Tim with a laugh.

"I wants another jollification ash.o.r.e afore I'd be after losin' the noomber av me mess."

I had come down from off the p.o.o.p with Mr Mackay, and now, standing by his side, watched with anxiety Tim's movements.

He had no lack of volunteers, however, for the ticklish work of laying out on the yard, Joe Fergusson's previous example having inspired whatever pluck was previously wanting; and, almost as soon as he got forward we saw several of the hands mounting the fore rigging on the starboard side--this being the least dangerous, as there was no chance of their being blown into the sea against the wind.

But Tim Rooney would not suffer them to go aloft alone, his stalwart figure being the first to be seen leading the way up the shrouds, with Joe Fergusson close behind, not satisfied apparently with his previous attempt; and both, I noticed in the moonlight, which just then streamed out full for a few minutes, had their jack-knives between their teeth, ready for any emergency, as well as to cut away the double lashings of the foresail, "sea-gaskets" having been laced over the regular ones so as to bind the sail tighter to the yard.

As they went up, the crew were flattened like pancakes against the ratlines; and Mr Mackay and I held our breath when they got on the foot-rope from the shrouds, holding on to the yard and jack-stay, with the wind swaying them to and fro in the most perilous manner. Tim Rooney especially seemed in the most dangerous position, as he made for the lee earing, whence he might be swept off in an instant into the foaming waves that spurted up from the chains as if clutching at him, while Joe Fergusson worked his way out to the end of the weather yard- arm, fighting the fierce gusts at every sliding step he took.

Then, when all were at their posts, Tim gave some sort of signal to the four others whom he allowed to go up with him, and at the same instant the gaskets were severed, parties of men below slacking off the clewlines and pulling on the sheets by degrees. By this means the foresail, having been double-reefed fortunately before being furled, was set satisfactorily, without a split as all of us below expected, the hands getting down from the yards while we were yet hauling the tack aboard.

The effect of this additional sail power on the ship was magical, lifting her bows out of the water and making her plunge madly through the billowy ocean, now all covered with foam and spume, like a maddened horse taking the bit between his teeth and bolting.

"She wants some after sail to steady her," roared the captain bending over the p.o.o.p rail, although he held on tightly enough to it the while, and calling out to Mr Mackay, who remained with me just below him on the main-deck. "We must try and get some sort of rag up."

Mr Mackay made a motion up at the fragments of the main trysail, which, it may be remembered, had been carried away by the first blast of the typhoon.

"Aye," roared back "Old Jock," understanding him, and knowing that if the first mate had spoken he couldn't have heard a word he said, from the fact of the wind blowing forward. "I know it's gone, but try a staysail."

"Bedad, he bates Bannagher!" said Tim Rooney, who had returned aft and joined Mr Mackay and I under the break of the p.o.o.p, where we were sheltered more from the force of the gale. "I niver did say sich a chap for carryin' on, fair weather an' foul, loike 'Ould Jock Sayins an'

Mayins.' Sure, he wants to be there afore himsilf!"

"We must rig up a storm staysail, I suppose," replied Mr Mackay, smiling at the other's remark. "Try one on the mizzen staysail--the smallest you've got. Ask Adams, he'll soon find one; and, mind you, send it up 'wift' fashion, so as to lessen the risk of its getting blown away, bosun."

"Aye, aye, sorr," said Tim, opening his eyes at this expedient of hoisting a sail like a pilot's signal, and starting to work his way forward again along the weather side of the deck. "Begorra, you're the boy, sure, Misther Mackay, for sayin' through a stone hidge as well as most folk!"

But the dodge succeeded all the same, and likewise had the advantage of steadying the vessel, which did not roll nearly so much when the after sail was hoisted, with the sheet hauled in to leeward; although, the Silver Queen bent over when she felt it, as if running on a bowline, notwithstanding that the wind was almost dead aft and she spurring on before it.

As the night came on it darkened more, the moon disappearing altogether and the sky becoming completely covered with black angry clouds; while heavy showers of cold rain pelted down on us at intervals from midnight till "four bells" in the middle watch.

Then the rain ceased and the heavens cleared a bit, a few stars peeping out; and the phosph.o.r.escent light from the sea enabled us to have a good view of the boiling waves around us, still heaving and tossing as far as the eye could reach, although the wind was perceptibly lessening.

An hour later its force had fallen to that of a strong breeze, and the captain had the topsails and mizzen-topgallant set, carrying on still full pitch to the north-east, notwithstanding that just before dawn it became pitch dark again and we couldn't see a cable's length ahead.

The starboard watch had been relieved shortly before this, but Mr Saunders remained up, as indeed had most of us since the previous afternoon; while Captain Gillespie, indeed, never left the deck once since the first suspicion of the typhoon.

He now yawned, however, the long strain and fatigue beginning to tell on him.

"I think I'll go below," he said; and, turning to Mr Mackay, all amiable again, especially at having carried his point of "carrying on"

successfully in spite of the first mate's caution, he remarked with a sniff, "You see, Mackay, we've gone on all right and met no dangers, and it'll puzzle those blessed pirates, if they're yet in the land of the living, to find us at daybreak!"

Just as he uttered these words, however, there was a tremendous shock forwards that threw us all off our feet, succeeded by a peculiar grating feeling under the ship's keel, after which, her heaving and rolling ceased as if she had suddenly sailed from amidst the waves into the calm water of some sheltered harbour. A second shock followed soon, but not so violent as the first; and then, all motion ceased.

"By Jingo, she's aground!" snorted out "Old Jock," scrambling to his feet by the a.s.sistance of Mr Saunders' outstretched hand. "Where on earth can we've got to? there's no land here."

Mr Mackay said nothing, although he had his suspicions, which indeed had led in the original instance to his remonstrance against the captain's allowing the ship to rush on madly in the dark; but, presently, as the light of morning illumined the eastern sky and we were able to see the ship's position, a sudden cry of alarm and recognition burst from both--