Chapter 50 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
There were three boats belonging to the barque Pandora. They were the “long-boat,” the “pinnace,” and the “captain’s gig.” These would have been enough to have carried the whole crew—indeed the long-boat herself would have contained all hands, or nearly.
Thirty was reckoned her full complement, though, in a case of distress, forty persons might have found room in her, and she would have floated with that number, though not in a rough sea. She had been a good boat in her time, but was now old and worn, and there was a rotten plank or two among her timbers. She was not the boat originally made for the Pandora. This had been lost in a gale; and the one now aboard was an old weather and water-worn veteran, hurriedly obtained for the voyage. The pinnace would have carried some fifteen men, had she been fit to go into the water, which she was not. She had met with an accident while in the river, and had not yet been repaired. She was not slung at that moment, but lying in the scuppers along the main-deck, where the carpenter had for days past been repairing her. The repairs, however, were not completed, and the boat could not go to sea. The long-boat and gig then must take the whole crew; and it was agreed that twenty eight should get into the former, while the remaining twelve could be stowed in the gig.
Of course this agreement was made by a kind of rambling general consent—for there was no deliberation about anything, the whole crew being now half-mad with haste and excitement.
A large number of the men had rushed at once towards the long-boat, and there I followed them. They soon swarmed up to the bulwarks, and set to work to poise the davits outward, and get the rigging in order for lowering the boats. I did not see Brace among them; and, fancying he might have gone with a party towards the gig, I started aft to find him—as it was my intention to go in whatever boat carried him. The gig was suspended at the stern, just under the taffrail; and to reach this point I had to pass through the smoke that enveloped the cabin. But although the atmosphere seemed perfectly stagnant, the cloud of smoke leant a little towards the larboard side, and on the opposite, or starboard side, the way was partially clear. I had observed one or more persons glide through towards the stern, and I followed them.
On arriving upon the poop, I saw that there were five or six persons there, engaged in launching the gig. They were working with all their might, and apparently hurried by some extreme apprehension of terror. Three of them I recognised as the captain, mate, and carpenter, and the others were men noted as their allies and firm friends. They had already lowered the boat nearly to the water; and just as I looked over the taffrail I heard the plash, as her keel dipped into the sea. I saw that there were some articles—the compass, with charts, and a few other things like boxes or barrels—already lying in the boat; but as yet none of the men had got into her.
On glancing at those who were around, I perceived that my friend was not among them; and I was turning to go back towards the main-deck, when all at once the six men who had lowered the gig—I now saw there were but six—passed suddenly over the taffrail, and gliding down the davit-tackle, dropped into the boat.
Surely, thought I, they are not going to row off without their full complement of twelve? That was the understanding, and it was further agreed that all hands should help in lowering the long-boat before the gig should be launched; the latter, being small and light, could be got into the water in a few seconds of time, and half-a-dozen men would be enough; whereas, launching the great long-boat, getting her over the bulwarks, and then lowering her safely into the sea, was a work that required both time and the help of all hands.
That all were to assist in it had been specially arranged, in the hurried consultation which had been held after the cry had arisen, “To the boats!”
No doubt that those now engaged about the long-boat supposed that all hands were there; for in a crowd of forty men the absence of five or six is not readily noticed, and, as it was no longer daylight, the faces of none could be easily distinguished. The mate and captain would not have been missed more than any others. Their authority existed no longer, and their silly behaviour in belabouring the cook, when they should have been using the time to better advantage by endeavouring to stifle the fire, had led to the belief that both were “half-seas over,” and, therefore, no attention had been afterwards paid to any orders from either of them.
It was they and the four men with them I had observed passing abaft as I was looking for Ben, and I thought at the time that they were skulking, as if they did not wish to be seen!
As I stood upon the poop, this conjecture was confirmed. The six were evidently about to steal the gig away, without waiting for the others she was to have carried.
I was irresolute how to act. I could not myself prevent them. Remonstrance from me would have been laughed at, and I had not the strength to stay them. To call out would have been of no use. The sound of the fire roaring and crackling below, the hoarse shouting of the men themselves, the yells and vociferations of the slaves forward, produced a medley of noises amidst which my cries would not have been heard, or, at all events, their object would not have been understood.
Another thing—it was too late to create any noise about it; for before I could make up my mind to do one thing or the other—either to cry out or run back—the gig was resting on the water, the six runaways had dropped into her, and the next moment had cut the davit-tackle and set the boat free!
They appeared to act with extreme haste—as if they apprehended being hindered from getting off, or were afraid that more would come up and leap in along with them so as to overload the boat.
I could not comprehend why they were in such a desperate hurry. There could be no danger of the gig being overloaded—as it was agreed she should only take twelve—and I knew that most of the crew would far prefer to go by the long-boat; moreover, there was as yet no danger from the fire, for, although smoke was oozing out by the binnacle, it would be a good while before this part could be ablaze. There was no one by the wheel. The perfect calm that had continued since near morning rendered a steersman superfluous, and the wheel stood idle and neglected. The compass was gone. It was it I had observed in the bottom of the boat.
I could not comprehend then why the captain and his five associates were in such a way to be off, and thus desert the rest of their comrades in misfortune. There was some mystery in it.
There was a mystery, which in another moment was cleared up, and by the dastardly skipper himself, I was still standing by the taffrail, when the davit-tackle was cut, and saw the gig-oars shoved out and ready to pull away. The skipper himself grasped an oar. At that moment he looked up and noticed me. He half rose from his seat, and in drunken accents hiccuped out—
“Ahoy, there!—you boy, Bill!—tell ’em t’ look sharp—hiccup—in getting out long b’t—sharp, d’y’ hear.—L’em be quick about it—quick,—hiccup—for by—hiccup—there’s a barrel of pow—hiccup—powder aboard!”