"How d"ye know?"
"By the gulls."
Then succeeded an exciting dialogue between the captain and the master, who, being in his department, was very firm; and went so far as to say he would not answer for the safety of the ship, if they did not sight the land before dark.
The captain said, "Very well," and took a turn or two. But at last he said, "No. Her Majesty"s ship must not pa.s.s a raft with a man on it, dead or alive."
He then began to give the necessary orders; but before they were all out of his mouth, a fatal interruption occurred.
Tadcaster ran into Dr. Staines"s cabin, crying, "A raft with a corpse close by!"
Staines sprang to the quarter port to see, and craning eagerly out, the lower port chain, which had not been well secured, slipped, the port gave way, and as his whole weight rested on it, canted him headlong into the sea.
A smart seaman in the forechains saw the accident, and instantly roared out, "MAN OVERBOARD!" a cry that sends a thrill through a ship"s very ribs.
Another smart fellow cut the life-buoy adrift so quickly that it struck the water within ten yards of Staines.
The officer of the watch, without the interval of half a moment, gave the right orders, in the voice of a stentor;
"Let go life-buoy.
"Life-boat"s crew away.
"Hands shorten sail.
"Mainsel up.
"Main topsel to mast."
These orders were executed with admirable swiftness. Meantime there was a mighty rush of feet throughout the frigate, every hatchway was crammed with men eager to force their way on deck.
In five seconds the middy of the watch and half her crew were in the lee cutter, fitted with Clifford"s apparatus.
"Lower away!" cried the excited officer; "the others will come down by the pendants."
The man stationed, sitting on the bottom boards, eased away roundly, when suddenly there was a hitch--the boat would go no farther.
"Lower away there in the cutter! Why don"t you lower?" screamed the captain, who had come over to leeward expecting to see the boat in the water.
"The rope has swollen, sir, and the pendants won"t unreeve," cried the middy in agony.
"Volunteers for the weather-boat!" shouted the first lieutenant; but the order was unnecessary, for more than the proper number were in her already.
"Plug in--lower away."
But mishaps never come singly. Scarcely had this boat gone a foot from the davit, than the volunteer who was acting as c.o.xswain, in reaching out for something, inadvertently let go the line, which, in Kynaston"s apparatus, keeps the tackles hooked; consequently, down went the boat and crew twenty feet, with a terrific crash; the men were struggling for their lives, and the boat was stove.
But, meantime, more men having been sent into the lee cutter, their weight caused the pendants to render, and the boat got afloat, and was soon employed picking up the struggling crew.
Seeing this, Lieutenant Fitzroy collected some hands, and lowered the life-boat gig, which was fitted with common tackles, got down into her himself by the falls, and pulling round to windward, shouted to the signalman for directions.
The signalman was at his post, and had fixed his eye on the man overboard, as his duty was; but his mess-mate was in the stove boat, and he had cast one anxious look down to see if he was saved, and, sad to relate, in that one moment he had lost sight of Staines; the sudden darkness--there was no twilight--confused him more, and the ship had increased her drift.
Fitzroy, however, made a rapid calculation, and pulled to windward with all his might. He was followed in about a minute by the other sound boat powerfully manned, and both boats melted away into the night.
There was a long and anxious suspense, during which it became pitch dark, and the ship burned blue lights to mark her position more plainly to the crews that were groping the sea for that beloved pa.s.senger.
Captain Hamilton had no doubt that the fate of Staines was decided, one way or other, long before this; but he kept quiet until he saw the plain signs of a squall at hand. Then, as he was responsible for the safety of boats and ship, he sent up rockets to recall them.
The cutter came alongside first. Lights were poured on her, and quavering voices asked, "Have you got him?"
The answer was dead silence, and sorrowful, drooping heads.
Sadly and reluctantly was the order given to hoist the boat in.
Then the gig came alongside. Fitzroy seated in her, with his hands before his face; the men gloomy and sad.
"GONE! GONE!"
Soon the ship was battling a heavy squall.
At midnight all quiet again, and hove to. Then, at the request of many, the bell was tolled, and the ship"s company mustered bareheaded, and many a stout seaman in tears, as the last service was read for Christopher Staines.
CHAPTER XIV.
Rosa fell ill with grief at the hotel, and could not move for some days; but the moment she was strong enough, she insisted on leaving Plymouth: like all wounded things, she must drag herself home.
But what a home! How empty it struck, and she heart-sick and desolate.
Now all the familiar places wore a new aspect: the little yard, where he had so walked and waited, became a temple to her, and she came out and sat in it, and now first felt to the full how much he had suffered there--with what fort.i.tude. She crept about the house, and kissed the chair he had sat in, and every much-used place and thing of the departed.
Her shallow nature deepened and deepened under this bereavement, of which, she said to herself, with a shudder, she was the cause. And this is the course of nature; there is nothing like suffering to enlighten the giddy brain, widen the narrow mind, improve the trivial heart.
As her regrets were tender and deep, so her vows of repentance were sincere. Oh, what a wife she would make when he came back! how thoughtful! how prudent! how loyal! and never have a secret. She who had once said, "What is the use of your writing? n.o.body will publish it,"
now collected and perused every written sc.r.a.p. With simple affection she even locked up his very waste-paper basket, full of fragments he had torn, or useless papers he had thrown there, before he went to Plymouth.
In the drawer of his writing-table she found his diary. It was a thick quarto: it began with their marriage, and ended with his leaving home--for then he took another volume. This diary became her Bible; she studied it daily, till her tears hid his lines. The entries were very miscellaneous, very exact; it was a map of their married life. But what she studied most was his observations on her own character, so scientific, yet so kindly; and his scholar-like and wise reflections.
The book was an unconscious picture of a great mind she had hitherto but glanced at: now she saw it all plain before her; saw it, understood it, adored it, mourned it. Such women are shallow, not for want of a head upon their shoulders, but of ATTENTION. They do not really study anything: they have been taught at their schools the bad art of skimming; but let their hearts compel their brains to think and think, the result is considerable. The deepest philosopher never fathomed a character more thoroughly than this poor child fathomed her philosopher, when she had read his journal ten or eleven times, and bedewed it with a thousand tears.
One pa.s.sage almost cut her more intelligent heart in twain:--
"This dark day I have done a thing incredible. I have spoken with brutal harshness to the innocent creature I have sworn to protect. She had run in debt, through inexperience, and that unhappy timidity which makes women conceal an error till it ramifies, by concealment, into a fault; and I must storm and rave at her, till she actually fainted away. Brute!
Ruffian! Monster! And she, how did she punish me, poor lamb? By soft and tender words--like a lady, as she is. Oh, my sweet Rosa, I wish you could know how you are avenged. Talk of the scourge--the cat! I would be thankful for two dozen lashes. Ah! there is no need, I think, to punish a man who has been cruel to a woman. Let him alone. He will punish himself more than you can, if he is really a man."
From the date of that entry, this self-reproach and self-torture kept cropping up every now and then in the diary; and it appeared to have been not entirely without its influence in sending Staines to sea, though the main reason he gave was that his Rosa might have the comforts and luxuries she had enjoyed before she married him.