Chapter 61 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
It soon became evident that the foremost swimmers, who had been for the moment repulsed, had no intention of turning back. Why should they? Behind them they had left no hope—not a plank to cling to—only a ship on fire blazing upward to the skies and now almost hid under the flames. Even she, before they could reach her, would be burned down to the water’s edge. Why should they think of swimming back? No; the raft was the only thing upon the whole face of that wide sea upon which human foot might now find a resting-place. Though it would be but a straw among so many, at that straw had they determined to clutch, so long as life remained.
They had no design of leaving us, but now swam round and round the floating spars, evidently waiting until their main body could come up, so that all might rush forward together and get possession of the raft.
This was plainly their intention: and, knowing it, the white men were fast yielding to despair.
Not all of them. There were some of those rough men who still preserved their presence of mind; and in that perilous hour, when all hope appeared to have vanished, these men suddenly hit upon a plan to save the raft, and the lives of those upon it, from the apparently inevitable fate that threatened them.
I was, myself, in a state of half-stupor. I had watched the movements of the poor wretches in the water till my head grew giddy, and I scarce knew what was going on around me. My face was turned towards the blazing ship, and I had not for a long while looked elsewhere. I heard the sailors ejaculating loudly, and shouting words of encouragement; but I supposed they were encouraging each other to repel the attack of the swimmers, who were now on all sides of the raft, forming a sort of irregular ring around it, of several feet in depth. I was expecting that we would soon be sinking into the sea! I was stupefied, and I thought I was dreaming.
All of a sudden I was aroused from my stupor by hearing a loud huzza. It came from the sailors behind me. I could not tell its meaning till I turned round, and then, to my surprise, I saw a piece of sail spread out transversely across the raft, and held by several men in a vertical position. There was one at each end and one in the middle, who, with their arms extended upward, held the sail as high as they could reach.
For what purpose were they doing this? I needed not ask the question. I saw that there was wind blowing against the canvas. I felt the breeze upon my cheeks.
I looked back to the water. I saw that the raft was moving rapidly through it. There was a rushing along the edge of the timbers—there was froth where the spars were cleaving the sea. I looked for the swimmers. I saw their round heads and grim faces, but no longer around the raft—they were already in its wake, every moment falling further away. Merciful heaven! at least from that terrible fate were we saved.
I kept gazing behind. I still saw the dark heads above the water. I could no longer distinguish their faces. I thought they had turned them away. I thought they were swimming back toward the blazing barque.
They may have turned back, but with what hope? They could have had none; though despair may have driven them in that direction as well as any other.
It was a sad beacon to guide them; nor did it serve them long. They could not have got near it—not half-way—before that event, so dreaded by Brace and myself, came to pass. The crisis had at length arrived.
Wherever the powder had been kept, it was long before the fire had reached it—far longer than we had expected; but the searching flames found it at last, and the concussion came.
It was a terrific explosion, that resembled not the report of a cannon, but a hundred guns simultaneously fired. Bed masses were projected far up into the heavens, and still farther out to the sea, hurtling and hissing as they fell back into the water. A cloud of fiery sparks hung for some minutes over the spot; but these at length came quivering down, and, as soon as they reached the surface, were observed no more. These sparks were the last that was seen of the Pandora.
The crew at this moment were awed into silence. There was silence far over the sea; yet for nearly another hour that silence was at intervals broken by the death-shriek of some exhausted swimmer or some victim of the ravening shark.
The breeze still continued to blow, the raft moved on, and long before morning the Pandora’s crew were carried far away from the scene of the terrible tragedy.