"Not a doubt about it, sir, unless some true-hearted seamen venture out to their rescue when the ship strikes, as strike she must before many hours are over."

"Are you ready to go, Lizard?" asked Edward.

"An' that I am, sir, and all the rest of us, I'll warrant, if a boat can be found to swim in such a sea," answered d.i.c.k.

"Then I'll lead you, my brave lads!" said Edward warmly. "I'll go seek the governor and get from him a boat fit for our purpose. Whoever they are, I could not bear to see our fellow-creatures perish without an effort to save them. But perhaps the Portugals themselves will be eager to go, and not thank us for making the offer."

"Not a bit of it," answered d.i.c.k st.u.r.dily. "I've seen brave Portugals, I'll allow, but when they come out to this country all the good gets burnt out of them."

d.i.c.k was not far from right. Edward got access to the governor, who at once inquired if any one was ready to volunteer to go to the rescue of the crew of the ship now closely approaching the land; but when it was understood that the English prisoners had offered to risk their lives in the undertaking, no one was found willing to deprive them of the honour.

A fine seaworthy boat was placed at Edward's disposal, and at the head of his men, who were in the highest spirits, he walked out once more from prison.

Of what nation was the approaching ship was the question. To the honest tars and the brave gentlemen they followed it mattered nothing whether she was friend or foe. The Portugals had, however, discovered her to belong to their own people, and this, although it did not make them the more disposed to risk their own lives, induced them the more willingly to allow the English to do so to any extent they might see fit. Great was the eagerness they exhibited in bringing oars, and tholes, and boathooks, and ropes down to the boat, and still more, when the English had got into her, in launching her into deep water. This could not have been done on the open beach, on which the sea broke with terrific force, but she was hauled up on the sh.o.r.e of a natural harbour formed by two ledges of rocks rising a considerable height above the water. As the outer ends circled round and overlapped each other, the water inside the basin thus formed was comparatively smooth. Outside, however, the sea broke with terrific fury, threatening to overwhelm any boat or other floating machine which might get within its influence.

Some way to the north was another wide extending ledge of rocks, towards which it appeared that the unfortunate ship was drifting; but even should she escape that particular lodge and drive on the beach, the chance that any of those on board would escape was small indeed, for so high were the rollers and so powerful the reflux that once within their influence the stoutest ship could not hold together many minutes, and should any living beings washed towards the sh.o.r.e escape being dashed to pieces or killed by the broken planks and spars, they would be carried again out to sea and lost. Edward and d.i.c.k Lizard saw clearly this state of things, but they were not in consequence deterred from attempting to perform their errand of mercy. They also saw that if they would be successful there must be no delay. Each man having secured his oar with a rope, and himself to his seat by the same means, Edward gave the sign to the Portugals to shove off the boat. With loud shouts they placed their shoulders under her sides, and then, shrieking and grunting in concert, they almost lifted her along the sand till she floated, when the English prisoners bringing their oars into play shoved her off into the middle of the basin. d.i.c.k Lizard took the helm, while Edward stood up to judge of the best moment for crossing through the breakers. The crew went, steadily to their work. No one was ignorant of the danger to be gone through. At the entrance of the little harbour a white wall of water rose up before them, curling round and topped with ma.s.ses of glittering foam, which fell in dense showers, blown by the gale over them, tending to blind and bewilder even the most experienced seaman of the party. Edward was at first in despair of finding a channel through which the boat could by any possibility pa.s.s and live. Some of the Portugals had, however, a.s.sured him that at times between the intervals of the heavier seas he would be able to get through, and he resolved to persevere if his men were ready to do so.

"Ready, ay, ready, every one of us, Master Raymond," answered d.i.c.k Lizard, after the briefest of consultations with his comrades. "Where's the odds? We can but die once, whether with a Portugal's bullet through us, or by the _vomito preito_ or under yonder foaming seas--what matters it? An' you wish to go, we, to a man, will go too."

"Thanks, my brave lads; and now, when I order you to give way, give way you must, or be ready to back water at the word," exclaimed Edward, standing up in the stern-sheets of the boat so as to command a view over the ma.s.s of seething, raging, roaring water which rose before him. Sea after sea rolled in, and with a voice of thunder broke on the rocks with a force sufficient, it seemed, to dash them to fragments; but, placed there by the hand of Omnipotence to curb the fury of the wild ocean, the proud waters were hurled back upon themselves again and again, unable to gain a foot on their fixed confines, shattered into minute atoms of foam which the wind bore far away on its fleet wings, while the iron rocks remained fixed as of old, laughing to scorn their reiterated attacks.

The ship meantime was approaching nearer and nearer to the sh.o.r.e. Had she been drifting directly on it, she would by that time have been cast helpless on the stern rocks, but happily part of her foremast was still standing, on which a sail being set, her course was somewhat diagonal, and she was therefore longer in reaching her impending fate than had at first appeared likely to be the case. Now she rose on the summit of a foaming sea, now she sank into the hollow, seemingly as if never to appear again; but bravely she struggled on, like a being endued with life, resolved to battle to the last, yet knowing that destruction was inevitable. Edward observed that although at first there appeared to be no difference in the height of the rollers, yet that after a time several of less apparent strength came tumbling in unbroken till they actually touched the rocks, leaving a narrow yet clear s.p.a.ce between them. Through this s.p.a.ce he determined to urge his boat. He pulled down to the very mouth of the harbour; the crew lay on their oars. A huge sea came roaring on majestically, and breaking into foam almost overwhelmed the boat. Directly afterwards the clear channel appeared.

"Give way, give way, brave lads!" shouted Edward.

The boat sprang on. Immediate destruction or success awaited them. The blades of the oars were concealed amid the seething waters on either side, and the foam came bubbling up over the gunwales, but the boat still held her course outward. She rose towards the summit of a lofty sea; the men strained every nerve. Up she climbed; then downward she slid rapidly to meet another sea, up which she worked her way as before.

Another and another appeared in rapid succession; she surmounted them all, and the open ocean was gained.

Having gained a sufficient distance from the land, they had to keep along sh.o.r.e with the sea stream--a dangerous position, as, should the boat be caught by a roller, she would most certainly be turned over and over till she was dashed in fragments on the beach. On they came to the ship, plunging through the seas, and appearing as if every instant would be her last, even before she could reach the fatal strand. As they drew near they could distinguish the people on board in various att.i.tudes indicative of despair. There were many hapless beings--sailors, soldiers, civilians, and women and children, some infants in arms, all full of life, and yet, ere many fleeting minutes could pa.s.s away, to be numbered with the dead. One last desperate effort was, it was seen, now made by the crew of the ship to save their lives. Two anchors were let go, the cables flying out like lightning from the bows, while at the same moment gleaming axes cut away the remaining part of the foremast, which plunged free of the ship into the sea. It was a well-executed, seamanlike manoeuvre. The stout ship was brought up, and although she plunged with her lofty bow almost under the seas, it seemed that her anchors were about to hold her. Hope revived in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of those on board. Edward and his brave companions pulled alongside; ropes were hove to them, and they maintained the position they had gained, although in the greatest possible peril of being swamped. To climb up to the deck of the ship was almost impossible, but Raymond shouted out that he was ready to convey as many of the pa.s.sengers to the sh.o.r.e as were willing to trust themselves to his charge. Many of those who but a short time before had given way to despair were now unwilling to leave the stout ship which still floated under them for a small open boat.

Some who had less confidence in the power of the anchors to hold the ship, hurried to the side, and showed by their gestures that they wished to enter the boat. Without a.s.sistance, however, to make the attempt were madness, and the Portugal seamen exhibited no intention of helping them.

"I'll do it, Master Raymond," cried d.i.c.k Lizard, seizing a rope which hung over the side, and with a nimbleness which alone prevented him from being crushed between the boat and the ship he climbed up over her bulwarks. Two seamen followed his example.

Several more persons came crowding to the side of the vessel on seeing the hardihood of the British seamen in venturing to their a.s.sistance.

d.i.c.k seized the person he found nearest to him as he leaped on deck. It was a young girl. She was clasping the arm of a grey-headed, tall old man, who seemed to be her father.

"No time for ceremony, fair lady," cried d.i.c.k; "bless your sweet face, I'll make all square when we gets you safe on sh.o.r.e; just now, do you see, you mustn't mind a little rough handling. There! there! let go the old gentleman's fist; we'll lower him after you, never fear. Hold on taut by the rope, as you love me. A drop of tar won't hurt your pretty hands. There! there! away you go! Look out below there! Gingerly, lads, lower away. Now, old gentleman, you follows your daughter, I suppose?"

These exclamations were all uttered while d.i.c.k and his companions were securing a rope round the young lady's waist, and lowering her into the boat. She gazed upward at her father with a look of affection as she felt herself hanging over the raging ocean while the boat seemed receding from her. A loud shriek of terror escaped her. d.i.c.k waited till the boat had again risen, and just as it was about to descend into the trough, he let the young girl drop into the arms of Raymond, who stood ready to receive her, and with a sharp knife cut the rope above her head, not waiting to cast it loose. The next comer was, as d.i.c.k promised, the old gentleman, who, even less able to help himself than the young lady, was treated much in the same way.

A young mother with her child, whom with one arm she clutched convulsively to her bosom, while with the other with a parent's loving instinct she endeavoured to prevent the infant from being dashed against the ship's side, was next lowered. Not a sound did she utter. Once the ship, gave an unexpected roll, and she was thrown rudely against the side, but she only clasped her infant the tighter, and heeded not the cruel blows she was receiving. Barely could Edward with all his strength secure her and free her from the rope before the boat was dashed off to a distance from the ship. Again, however, the boat was hauled up alongside. Lizard had now slung two little boys together.

Though pale with terror, they bravely encouraged each other as they hung over the foaming ocean till the position of the boat enabled them to be lowered into her.

Their father stood on the bulwarks watching them with all a father's affection, he himself wishing to follow immediately, but being prohibited from making the attempt till some more women and children had been lowered. Lizard and his companions laboured on unceasingly, for none of the Portugal's crew would render them any a.s.sistance. Several other people were thus conveyed to the boat, but many who seemed at first inclined to leave the ship lost courage as they saw the hazard of the undertaking. Some, again, as they gazed towards the foam-covered sh.o.r.e, and heard the roar of the seas as they dashed on the wild rocks, or rolled up on the shingly beach, showed that they would rather trust their safety to the boat than to the labouring ship. Among them was a young man who pushed forward requesting to be lowered.

"No, no, senhor don," said Lizard. "Do ye see that there are more women and children to go first? We must look after the weaker ones, who can't help themselves. That's the rule we rovers of the ocean stick to."

The young man, either not comprehending him, or so eager to escape as to forget all other considerations, sprang up on the bulwarks, and, seizing a rope, attempted to lower himself without a.s.sistance. Miscalculating the time, he descended rapidly; the ship gave a sudden lurch, the boat swung off, and the foaming sea surging up tore him from the rope, and with a fearful cry of despair he sank for ever. He was the first victim claimed by the ocean. His fate deterred others from making a like attempt.

"Come, senhor," said Lizard to the father of the little boys, "if you wish to go with us it's fair you should, seeing that others are thinking about the matter instead of acting. You just trust to me, and I'll land you safely."

Comprehending what Lizard meant by his gestures, rather than by his words, he submitted himself to his guidance, and was placed by the side of his boys. At that instant a cry arose on board the ship that the anchors were dragging. Lizard soon saw that the report was too true.

Now numbers were eager to jump into the boat. She might have carried three more persons, but in the attempt to receive them scores might have leaped in, and the boat would have been swamped. d.i.c.k and his companions had no fancy to be wrecked with the ship; so, seizing ropes, they swung themselves into the boat. The next moment the rope which held the boat was cut, and she floated clear of the ship. The oars were got out and hastily plied by the st.u.r.dy seamen. Good reason had they to exert all their strength, for the ship, while dragging her anchors, had already carried them fearfully near the roaring line of breakers among which she herself was about to be engulfed. With horror those who had been rescued contemplated the impending fate of their late companions.

Slowly the boat worked her way out to sea, while the ship, with far greater rapidity, drove towards the sh.o.r.e. Now the wind, which appeared for an instant to have lulled, breezed up again. Hardly could the boat hold her own. Edward and Lizard had to keep their eyes seaward to watch the waves in order to steer their boat amid their foaming crests. The hapless people on board too well knew what must be their own fate. In vain they shrieked for help; in vain they held out their arms; vain, truly, was the help of man. A furious blast swept over the ocean. A ma.s.s of foam broke over the boat. Raymond believed that she could not rise to the coming sea, but, buoyantly as before, she climbed up its watery side, struggling bravely. As she reached its summit a cry escaped the rowers--"The anchors have parted! Good G.o.d! the anchors have parted!"

In an instant more the raging seas, foaming and hissing, broke over the stout ship, ingulfing in their eager embrace many of those who were till then standing on the deck full of life and strength. Still the waters seemed to cry out for more. Each time they rushed up more and more were torn from their hold. Some strong swimmers struggled for a few moments amid the boiling surges for dear life, but the shrieks of most of them were speedily silenced in death. The stout ship, too, stout as she was, quickly yielded to the fury of the breakers. The high p.o.o.p was torn away as if made of thin pasteboard; the wide forecastle, with the remainder of the crew still clinging to it, was carried off and speedily dashed to fragments; the stout hull next, with a wild crash, was rent asunder, and huge timbers, and beams, and planks were dashed to and fro amid the foaming billows, speedily silencing the agonised shrieks of those who yet hoped--though hoped in vain--to reach the land where hundreds upon hundreds of their fellow-creatures stood bewailing their fate, but unable to render them a.s.sistance. But a few minutes had pa.s.sed by since the tall ship had struck on those cruel rocks, and now her shattered fragments strewed the ocean, some carried back by the receding waves, others cast, torn and splintered, on the beach with tangled ma.s.ses of ropes, and spars, and seaweed. Here and there a human form, mangled, pallid, and lifeless, could be discerned, surrounded by the remnants of the wreck, now approaching, now again dashed off suddenly from the sh.o.r.e; now an arm might be seen lifted up as if imploringly for help; now the head, now the very lips, might be seen to move, but it was but the dead mocking at the living. No sound escaped those lips; for ever they were to be silent. Most of those thus momentarily seen were swept off again to become the prey of the ravenous monsters of the deep. A few of the poor remnants of frail mortality were cast up and left upon the sh.o.r.e, whence they were carried up by the pitying hands of charity to be interred in their mother earth, but by far the greater number were among those who shall rest in their ocean graves till the time arrives when the sea shall give up her dead, and all, from every land and every clime throughout all ages since the world was peopled, shall meet together for judgment.

CHAPTER SIX.

"How fares it with the good ship, d.i.c.k?" asked Edward, fearing for one moment to withdraw his eyes from off his arduous task of steering the boat amid the raging seas.

The answer came not from the British seaman, but from one of the pa.s.sengers taken from the ship:--

"Mother of Heaven! they are lost--all lost!"

The words, uttered by the young lady who had been the first received into the boat, were followed by a heart-rending shriek as she sank fainting into the arms of her father. Many of those who had been saved had relatives, all had friends and acquaintances, on board the ship.

Some others cried out and expressed their horror or regret, but the greater number looked on with stolid indifference, satisfied that they had themselves escaped immediate destruction, or absorbed in the selfish contemplation of their own pending fate. It seemed even now scarcely possible that the boat, heavily laden as she was, could escape being swamped. Humanly speaking, her safety depended on the bone and muscle and perseverance of her crew. None but true British seamen could have held out as they did. Many hours had elapsed since the ship was first seen; night was approaching, and the sea still ran so high that it would be next to madness to attempt re-entering the little harbour--a task far more difficult than getting out of it, as the slightest deviation to the right or left would have caused the instant destruction of the boat and of all on board her. There was nothing, therefore, but to continue at sea. There was no other harbour for many miles either to the north or south which they could hope to reach within many days.

"An' we had but provender aboard, Master Raymond, we might give the Portugals the slip, and never let them see our handsome faces again,"

observed d.i.c.k, after keeping silence for a considerable time.

"True, d.i.c.k," answered Edward, and hope rose in his heart at the bare mention of escaping; but with a sigh he added, "First, though, we have no provender, and had we, in duty we are bound to land these poor people as soon as we can with safety venture so to do. Already they are almost worn out, and a few hours more of exposure may destroy their lives, which we have undergone this peril to preserve. Then, again, the Portugals allowed us to take the boat on the faith that we were to return. Duty is duty, d.i.c.k; the temptations to neglect it do not alter its nature, whatever the old tempter Satan may say to the contrary. Let us stick to duty and never mind the consequences."

"That's all true, no doubt, Master Raymond, what you say," replied Lizard. "But it would be hard, if there was a chance of getting away, to go back to prison. Liberty is sweet, especially to seamen."

"Duty is duty, d.i.c.k," repeated Raymond. "What is right is the right thing to do ever since the world began. Maybe the gale will go down, and by dawn we may land these poor people without danger. It will be a happy thing to us to have saved them; and, to my mind, even our prison will be less dreary from having done it."

All hands were soon brought round to their officer's opinion. The sun was now setting, and darkness in that lat.i.tude comes on immediately afterwards. Their prospect was therefore dreary and trying in the extreme. It was difficult to keep the boat free from water in the day; still more difficult would it be while night shrouded the ocean with her sombre mantle. Hunger, too, was a.s.sailing the insides of the crew; but, still undaunted, they prepared to combat with all their difficulties.

Rest they must not expect; their safety depended on their pulling away without ceasing at the oars. Pull they did right manfully. Now one broke into a song; now another cheered the hearts of his companions with a stave, which he trolled forth at the top of his voice. The example was infectious, and in spite of hunger and fatigue, jokes and laughter and songs succeeded each other in rapid succession. The jokes were none of the most refined, nor were the songs replete with wisdom; but the laughter, at all events, was loud and hearty; above all things, it had the effect of raising the drooping spirits of the poor beings who had been confided to them by Providence.

As they sang, and joked, and rowed, the sea began to go down, and thus, as their strength decreased, the necessity of exerting it became less; still they were compelled to pull on to keep the boat off the land and her head to the sea. At length the singers' voices grew lower and lower, and the jokers ceased their jokes, and the heads of some as they rowed dropped on their bosoms for an instant, but were speedily raised again with a jerk and a shake as they strove to arouse their faculties.

Edward had need of all his energies to keep himself to his task, and he told d.i.c.k to warn him should he show any signs of drowsiness.

The hours as the morning approached appeared doubly long. The dawn came at last, and then the sun in a blaze of glory shot upward through the sky and cast his burning rays across the waters upon the boat, with her living but almost exhausted freight yet struggling bravely. The wind had fallen. There was a perfect calm, but yet the billows rolled on, moved, it seemed, by some mysterious power unseen to human eye--not, as before, broken and foaming, but in long, smooth, gla.s.sy rollers. Smooth as they were, they would have proved fatally treacherous to the boat had Raymond ventured to land. As they approached the beach they gained strength and height, and then broke with tremendous fury on the smooth sand or rugged rocks, as if indignant at being stayed in their course.

Again and again Edward and his companions gazed wistfully at the coast.

That formidable line of breakers still prohibited approach. He and his companions had before been suffering from hunger. As the sun rose higher and became hotter and hotter, thirst a.s.sailed them--thirst more terrible and more fatal than hunger. The poor pa.s.sengers suffered most; it seemed as if they had escaped a speedy death on the previous day, to suffer one more painful and lingering. Raymond had been unable till now to pay them much attention personally, leaving them to a.s.sist each other as best they could. He was now attracted by the affectionate manner in which the young lady who had been at first saved tended her aged father, and at length, when he could with safety leave the helm, on stooping down to aid her, he recognised in her features, careworn as they were, those of Donna Isabel d'Almeida. He addressed her by name.

"What! then our gallant deliverer is the Englishman Don Edoardo, the friend of Don Antonio!" she exclaimed. "Father, father, we are safe among friends; they will surely take us to the sh.o.r.e when they can. I perceived the likeness from the first, but, overcome with terror and confusion, I could not a.s.sure myself of the fact. You will forgive me, Don Edoardo."

"Indeed, fair lady, I have nothing to forgive," said Edward. "I rejoice to have been the means of thus far preserving one for whom I have so high an esteem from a dreadful fate. I cannot but believe that Providence, which has saved us thus far, will enable us yet to reach the sh.o.r.e in safety."

"Heaven and all the saints grant that we may! and under your guidance I have no fear," answered Donna Isabel. "But, Don Edoardo--"

The young lady stopped and hesitated, and then continued in a faint voice--

"There was another brave officer of your ship I would ask after--Don Antonio. I could never p.r.o.nounce his family name. How is it that he is not with you?"