A CASE OF SALVAGE.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1509, 31 January 1901, Page 15

A CASE OF SALVAGE.

(By Walter Wood, in the, “Pall Mall.”) f Tho Cavalier, of eighty tons, was swept across the tail-end of the Dogger by a hard north-east. From her gaunt masts strips of canvas cracked viciously and loudly in the breeze, and the booms were hurled! from side to side with a force that promised to wrench the ring-bolts cut of the deck. The wind had charged down in the black night and struck the smack before she could be closereefed, and had ripped the sails, which now performed a frenzied tattoo as the Cavalier ran homeward at the termination of her eight weeks’ fishing with the fleet. A big sea had tumbled over the aide and. carried off a, score of trunks of turbot, sole, and brill, which, were to have been ferried to the carrier; and, so that the waves should have no charge of^in completeness laid against them, they had w T renchedi away the gear, and the great net rested from its labours on the. sea-bed which it had so often trawled. Bobbed of her sails, trawl, and fish, the Cavalier rushed on to shelter in the Yarmouth Roads. _ . Skipper Dennison was at the tiller, entering, upon the eleventh hour of his incessant struggle with the piece of wood that strove against him with every twist of sea- about the rudder. It was an autumn gale, but a sharp one, and there was a keen touch of frost in the hurrying wind that caked his bronz_ ©d face and yellow oilskins with a film of .ice. From hour to hour Skipper Dennison had held his footing on the square of grating at the tiller, and had kept the Cavalier before the wind, refusing to yield control of her until weariness should make relief compulsory. Besides this, the rest of the crew, even down to little Dan, the cabin-boy, were taking turns at the pump, and were no whit better off than he. If he felt an almost irresistible desire to fall prone to the % deck, what of them, who had been toiling at the handle which every moment sCemed to grow into an unliftable burden, and to sap the power from the Done and muscle of the workers ? At first the mate had grappled with the pump for five minutes, and the others, except the hoy, had done the same. Then the five had become four, then three, and two; and at two the spells had remained, each man reckoning it a point of honour 1 not to lag behind, the mate, his leader. At last the mate had set himself to raise and depress the handle once a second for sixty seconds; at that rate for two hours past the Cavalier had been kept almost clear of waiter. Now the sixty turns had dropped to forty, and the skipper was wondering how long it would be before the relay would' fail, and the workers fall down helplessly and hopelessly, as he had seen workers fall before through such prodigious toil as this. The cafoin-hoy, from consideration of his youth and undeveloped strength, had not been claimed as a reserve until even his spasmodic labours were essential to the saving of the Cavalier; for his twenty seconds at the pump gave at any rate a breathing-space to the other workers. The skipper was not a harsh or rough commander, bu.t he had to keep the toil- , ers at it. He was a brown-faced black-bearded, strong-limbed man, who was proud of his smack, his crew, and his ability to write his name and spell out chapters in the Bible, always excepting genealogies and! here and there a prophet or a city; He tried' to think ' fairly of all men, even his own employer, who was notoriously as hard and closefisted a creature as could be found among the many such from Peterhead to Lowestoft.

Dennison’s prospect was not hopeful or agreeable. This* gale would mean a loss of many pounds upon the trip, which 'otherwise would have been successful!, for in the two months the Cavalier had never had her trawl employed in va,in. It would avail the skipper nothing to assert that the fault lay solely with the admiral of the fleet, who had too long delayed' the signal to get up the gear ; no excuse would palliate the crime of coming home a wreck, and putting the self-insuring owner to a heavy cost for refitting. The skipper even went so fat as to expect the worst, and pictured himself wandering aimlessly and heartsick along the quays, day after day, a smaoksman unemployed. But the skip, per was a hopeful" being. He trusted in a lucky star, and believed that, however doleful his case was, some way out of it would be provided. ; : c- “Yei* must keep it up, boys—keep it ' up till afternoon, an’, then we’ll be all snug in Yarmouth Iloads/’ ho shouted, thrusting his great body against 1 the kicking tiller. ‘Yer can go below, little Dari, an’ make some coffee for us. But ’andful or two iri the kettle, an’ let: it boil well, so’s to get the goodness out of it. Then fill some mugs an’ bring ’em up. That’s the sort o’ stuff to put hew life inter yer. Wi’ a mug o’ good strong coffee in us we shall easily ’old out till we’re on the safe side o’ the Cross Sand. I feel as if I could go on for another twelve hours. I’m .that well an’ fresh.” The skipper’s heavy eyes did not con-' firm his cheery words, and the reeling of ' his body showed that he was nearly at the end of his endurance. But his masterful spirit kept his vision clear, and by biting at his lips he could keep his weariness at bay. As for his reeling, due to

faintness, he made as if he stumbled only with the motion of his smack. He felt that if he, the chief, showed signs of being conquered, his exhausted crew would take it as a signal for them own collapse.

The: pump clanked spasmodically, the tiller- darted wildly at the fiercely resisting skipper, and the Cavalier went heading on her way. At last, the boy brought up a mug of evil-looking liquid, which he handed to the skipper. To him the smell was fragrant and appealing, and a hand went- forth instinctively to take the vessel. But the skipper caught the hungry look of the workers at the pump, and smothered his temptation. “Sup round, boys,” he shouted; “that’ll revive you till some more comes. I can waft easy, for I’m- not wantin’ stimmy-lant-s just yet.” And so the pumpers drank and smacked. their lips, and drank and smacked again until they were satisfied. When they had finished, and' Dan himself had had his mugful, the skipper raised the pot with trembling hands. He gulped the steaming, greasy liquor, and set to work with new-born force to keep the smack upon her course. “It’s Only a smart breeze, after all,” he cried encouragingly. “An’ we’re not far off now, lads.” “But smart enough to knock a brig to bits,” the mate replied, as he clung to the bulwarks and looked across the sea towards the land. “There’s one on the Hasbro’ if ever I saw a ship there. Look!”

From the skipper down to little Dan the crew stared hard. For a moment on one spoke. Perhaps the same thought entered the minds of most of them just then—that it might happen within the hour that they too would be bumping on the deadly sands until the seas should overwhelm them.

“It’s a brig ashore, right enough,” agreed the skipper. As if it might have been an inspirtion, he shouted: “Lads, this is luck’s doin’! That brig’s ashore to make up for the loss o’ profit on .our trip.”

“’Ow can that be?” asked the mate. “She can’t be o’ any use to u.s. It’ll take us all our time to look after the Cavalier.”

“That she can,” the skipper roared in answer. “She can be o’ use to us in the way o’ salvage. Lads, the Cavalier’s got to salvage that ’ere brig. Ther© may be men aboard.”

His humanity and the business spirit in him rose at once to wonderful activity, and he swung the smack round with the strength of a man just leaving port, and headed for the trembling vessel over which the seas were breaking in dull, white clouds.

“Talk about new ’eart and courage,” he roared —in that great noise of wind and wav© a man had need of toughened lungs to make his voice heard —“I feel as if I’d got the limbs o’ ten big giants! Just you feel the same, an’ we’ll get the brig to port an’ make a fortune on it.” From the way sh© hurried down to Hasborough, the valiant Cavalier mighthave got the spirit of her master. She held on for the brig steadily and unswervingly, her jib and ‘foresail rigid as sheets of iron ; and at last was near enough for Dennison to hail “Brig; ahoy !”

He waited for an instant after his voice had rung over the seas, but no answer came. Then) he called again, and there being no reply he led a united roar of “Brig ahoy!”, from the crew of the 'Cavalier.

By this time the smack was nearly abreast of the brig, and would have flown swiftly past her. Believing for the moment that the stranger was abandoned, and longing for the safety and shelter which the Roads afforded, the skipper was about to let the Cavalier run on. But the shout had been heard, and a shock-headed man was standing half out of the companion, waving a bottle, and pointing unsteadily to a signal of distress which was flying above him. He raised the bottle to his lips/and was drinking from it, when a sea broke over the ship and knocked him into the depths below. “Down wi’ the jib an’ fores’l, out anchor an’ out boat!” .shouted) the skipper, steering his handy vessel under the Tee of the foreigner, where her light draught enabled her to run. . “There’s a.crew aboard that brig, an’ we’ve got to save ’em, come wot may o’, salvage.” “They’re all drink in’ below—l just ’eard ’em: yelling a chorus,” said the mate. “They’d go down very comfortable if we let ’em alone.”

“W’y!” exclaimed, the skipper in amusement, “I shouldn’a ha’ supposed you’d ha’ showed the w’ite feather.’” “There’s no w’ite feather about me.” replied the mate. “But the boat’ll be bashed to bits as soon as she touches the water. A surf lifeboat could ’ardly live i’ such a sea. as this.” /. “We*ve boarded sfish in as ‘ shabby weather,” the skipper answered; “an’ wot we’ll do for money, surely we’ll do for human lives. Come, you an’ me an’ Will ’ll get the boat over an’ go aboard the brig an’ see wot they’re up to. We can easily climb up the lee side.” “Right,.skipper, I’m yer man,” returned the urate. “I was dog-tired, or I shouldn’t ha’ spoken as I did.” While these things had been said the skipper had made the tiller secure, and the anchor 'had been cast overboard. The rusty fangs had gripped the sands hard, and the rusty chain was tautened 1 dangerously; but the Cavalier was fffm-

ly held, and being free of water—for the leak had become choked-—she rode with tolerable ease.

They; thrust the broad squat boat into the water when the lee bulwarks were for an instant level with it, and the skipper dropped heavily on to one of the thwarts, and seized an oar as the smack shot high above him on the next approaching wave. When the boat was falling swiftly away again the mat© and the third hand tumbled in, and were soused in the water with which the craft was half-filled.

“Now for it!” shouted the skipper, slip, ping the painter, and thrusting desperately at the side of the Cavalier with his oar. “Shove aff, an’ let’s jump tip aboard the brig.” The three stood to their work, the skipper facing the bow, and the mate and third hand the stern, these two working together at. one oar. They fought their way through the blinding seas yard by yard; and the skipper, watching (for his daance, climbed! on board the brig, the painter in his teeth. He fastened it to a stanchion, and the other two hauled in and climbed up also, one watching to see that the boat was not stove in against the side of the ship. “She’s a foreigner,” observed the skipper.

“W’ich means that all there is to do ’ll ha’ to be done by us,”' growled the mate.

“It’s the Santy Mariar, port- o’ Cadiz,” said the skipper,' glancing at a lifebuoy hanging from the rigging, on which the word's were painted- “Bein' Spanish, she’ll certainly be a orkard customer. Santy Mariar ahoy, there!” he roared, bending his head down the hatchway and thumping the side.

For- answer there was a muffled chorus of screams.

“Santy Mariar, ahoy there! —can’t yer ’ear?” demanded Dennison.

There was another scream by way of acknowledging the hail. “I do believe they think Old Nick’s come aboard, to fetch ’em,” said the mate. “Let me go below an’ tickle ’em up wi’ this.” He seized a loose piece of timber, and had taken a step down towards the cabin, when a man in a red cap began to clamber unsteadily up. “I was cornin’ to knock a bit o’ life into some o’ you-,” explained the mate, stepping back to the deck, and throwing down his weapon disappointedly. “Go away —go away,” hiccoughed the red-capped man, who was the captain. “Go away—leave us.” “I’d precious soon do that, if I’d my way,” returned the mate. “ ’Ere we’ve come a-riskin’ life an’ limb to save you an’ yer ship, an’ then we’re told to clear out-. ‘Ow many on yer is there?” “Ten,” replied the captain, who from long trading with British ports spoke English well.

“Ten,” replied the disgusted skipper, who had come up. “D’yer mean to say, there are so many ’iding below, air leavin’ this brig to go bust ? Why don’t yet get ’em up an’ work ’er off?” “Work off ?” demanded the captain. “We’ve no rudder. The masts are spriung, and we couldn’t get up the anchor if we tried.”

“Yer can slip yer cables,” said the skipper; the masts ’ll ’old a scrap o’ canvas. at any rate; an’ as for steerin/ we’ll get a warp aboard the Cavalier, an’ the smack 11 act as a rudder. Wot d’ye thing o’ that notion ?” The captain, clinging unsteadily to the hatch, replied that it was a foolish no. tion, and would not do. “Look’-ere/’ burst in the mate furiously! “we’re not goin’ to stand ’ere all day in a gale o’ wind like this, till this old bundle o’ sticks is smashed up. Are yer cornin’ to ’elp us?”

“No,” said the captain, “certainly not. We’re praying below.” “’Uggin’ crosses an’ drinkin’ won’t get yer out o’ this fix,” said the skipper. “Let’s ’ave the men up ,to get the brig clear o’ the sands, an’ give a ’and to get ’er aftfay. She don’t seem to be damaged. We can ho in Lowestoft in an 'houir or two—that’s the best port to . run for wi’ the wind like this.”

The captain would have argued, but Dennison pushed him roughly aside, and dropped below. There he saw the whole of the crew clasping crucifixes, and praying and shouting between their bouts of drinking. ... .. . . Skipper Dennison used all the native eloquence at his command to get one or two of the ; most sober, men to go on deck; but they looked at him with blear and blinking eyes, arid did not answer. The cabin floor was deep in water, and they wer© waiting, awash, for the end. “Dash yer buttons!” exclaimed the wrathful master of the Cavalier to the captain, who had come down from the deck; “wot d’yer mean by lettin 5 ’em sit in the mucky water like that, an’ you shriekin’ like women? Come on deck like men, an’ give a ’and to get the brig away. My men’s droppin’ nearly dead already, an’ yet you an’ yours are ’idin’ below, drinkin’ and ’ollerin’ to idols. N

But the captain being drunk, and his crew the same, the skipper saw that it was hopeless to get assistance from them. He choked down his fury as well as he could, and went on deck with a fiercely beating heart. The men from the smack, exhausted, were clinging to the bulwarks to pre-

vent themselves from being thrown overboard as the brig rolled- and pumbed on the sands. “Lets leace ’em, skipper,” said the mate. “They aren’t worth savin’.’’, . “If it weren’t for their wives an’ child?er at ’ome, I’d go back to the smack an’ leave ’em to sink,” returned the skipper angrily. But he called to mind his own

anxious wife and family only a few miles away, andi thought that some day they rpight thank a, foreigner for saying him ;■ then he remembered that in his keeping were the credit and honour of his race, and he thought no more of deserting even this objectionable alien. “Lads,” fig said, passionately, “let’s show these skulkin’ swabs wot Englishmen can do. I’ll work till I drop dead rather than be beaten as they are.” ' ' ' " “If they won’t ’elp us they shan't interfere wi’ us, anyway,” vowed the mate. “Box ’em in, or they may com© up i’ their madness an’ try to brain us.’’ He pulled the hatch over'; the com! panionway and mad© it fast, after which he turned to the skipper and said, “Now we can work wi’ a free ’and. As for ine, I’m lik© you —good for peggin’. at it till I’m a corp.” Once more there was a dangerous trip to the sm-ack to get a. warp between her and the brig. After a hard .fight they had her secure, and having got the foresail and jib on the Cavalier again, anti slipped her cables, they began to pull the brig off the sands. The tough old Spaniard bumped and strained and held * back but in the end. she moved, and being lifted, by the rising tid© ,the undamaged hull slid slowly into the deep water of the Roads. A shout- of triumph from; the skipper and crew of the smack make known the floating of the brig. The cry aroused the captain, and ho crawled up the cabin steps, wondering what it meant, and why his vessel did not any longer rattle them about the swimming floor. “One more trip i’ the boat,” shouted the skipper, “an all we’ve got to do -’s to run to Lowestoft wi’ the old bundle of firewood an’ wait for our share o’ the salvage.” The excitement of the rescue had put fresh vigour and endurance into Denni- * +° 1 V?' n 1 C * t| ie kis company, down to little Dan, who was excelling all previous efforts in the art of making coffee out of boiling water in which same salt beer nan been cooked, and employing himself solely in supplying the crew with this refreshment and hard biscuit The work seemed easier now, and when a bit of sail had been got- upon the brig and sue was lunging southward' through the Roads, the Cavalier towing astern and steering her, there was not a smacksman on hoard of either craft who did not think that after all their fortunes were better than if they had reached port undamaged, with the catch of fish and: } vith their sails and gear. ' Ihe captain, having reached the hatch thumped upon it with his fist and no one taking notice of his clamouring’ he Died: to burst the hoarding with his foot,, ■railing, too, m this, he returned below and, standing on the table, s et himself to wreck the skylight with a poker. When he had broken the coloured glass to pieces and found that he was still a prisoner because of the brass rods outside, he shrieked long and furiously and used the strongest English words he knew.

You thieves from- the infernal!” he yelled, frantic with the thought that took possession of him. “You are• steal-' brig! You shall go to prison for Id I

_ The skipper and the mate were struggling with a rope, two yards awav. The mate was not so tolerant. /Just a jiffy, skipper,” he said, relin. the rope and making for the skylight. “Get down, yer yaller-faeed boozer! he exclaimed. , “Go an’ :&wim the waiter 'below. Drown ■ .df. yer like, an’ be damned to yer ; but don’t come interferin’ ’ere.” He smote the red-capped head with" a hard dirty fist and the captain dropped below. * . : .K

Now, skipper,” he said, resuming his labours, if there’s any more nonsense from them; foreigners below afore we’re arbour, I shall just catch ’old of a bit o timber;an’ crack their nuts for em. There’s .bin bother an’ /imbue enough.”

“I dare say they’ll be quiet now,” the skipper answered. “ ’specially if there# some more drink—an’ it was finished vven I was below. The Cavalier’s a bit wild, but we’re doin’ famously.” They struggled down past Gorleston, where a little paddle tug rushed out, and, defying the gale and taking the risk of being overwhelmed bodily, ranged up alongside of the Spaniard, and offered to take the pair into Lowestoft for a fiftypound note. “I’ll pay you,” roared the skipper; “I know that brig—she’s from Roosia for London, an’ worth a stock o’ money in the way o’ sailvage.” ■So Dennison struck a bargain with the fussy tug, which was of a net registered burden of twenty tons, and of forty indicated horse- power; and she dragged both of them slowly and laboriously into the refuge of Lowestoft harbour. : : 5

When the Santa Maria and the Cavalier were made fast at the quayside Dennison managed to intimate, chiefly by signs, that the Spanish crew were prisoners below; then, having fought incessantly with wind and Wave for many hours, he sank exhausted upon the deck and fell into a dreamless sleep. / r

Before lie went to sea again, his employer sent him a bottle of Scotch whiskey, of inferior quality, and a barrel — the smallest size —of doubtful ale. “Hang it. Bill,” he said, with an affectation of extreme magnanimity, hu.t saying nothing of a letter got from the owners of the brig, “there's no one shall say I'm mean over this business of tihe Spaniard. I’ll risk getting what I ought to .have over it. There’s a twentypound for you and a sovereign apiece for the children.” Being ten on ’em, that’s another tenpun’ note/’ murmured the delighted Dennison—- regretful, for the moment, that he had not twice that number. “Thirty pounds is a tidy- little sum, observed the owner, complacently. “You eould ailmost buy a cottage with it.” He puffed at his cigar’ after the fashion of a man who has done a virtuous deed, and has the right to enjoy a leisurely and peaceful contemplation of it. “You’re very good, sir,” said the grateful skipper, as he deferentially opened tihe door to let his patron and employer pass into the street. ‘Tve always tried to do my duty,” rejoined the master. “Good morning,- Mrs Dennison; good morning, Bill. You’ll be ready for the next trip on Monday morning? I’ll see to new gear and sails. , It'S a heavy loss, but we must grin and bear that, and try to make the best of things. Have the tug alongside at four Sharp, so you won’t miss the tide.” Then he walked away, and he chewed the end of his cigar reflectively, reckoned 1 up that when he had given the thirty pounds to Dennison, divided thirty more amongst the rest of the crew, paid the fifty to the tug for and provided - new sails and' gear, he had still a thousand left for himself as owner. .“It’s a bit stiff to have to pay all that- out of what there is to get,” he muttered; 'but, even then, salvage pays a lot better than fishing. If a brig a year came my way at this rate, I should soon be a rich man—and perhaps get to .be mayor.” While'the owner dwelt, half-fearfully, the joys of such a giddy eminence, Dennison rejjoined his wife. '< ’E’s not a bad sort. "Martha, w’en ’e’s reckoned up, is e ?’’ he asked heartily. “But —w’y, old woman, you’re cryin’i Wot’s that for?” “Oh, Bill,” she sobbed, “I know I’m a wicked woman to think it. But I’m not grateful. Thirty pounds is a miserable bit, seein’ that Mr Grimm el gets a thousand, as I’m told ’e will. ’E didn’t work for it, and! didn’t run any risk. You might ha’ bin killed or washed overboard, an’ it wouldn’t ha’ mattered to ’im except ’e would ’a ’ad to bother to find another skipper as good as you—an’ as cheap.” “Bufc you know, Martha, ’e’s the owner an’ might get the lot o’ the salvage. It’s ’is vessel wot saved the brig—me an’ the rest only worked ’er.’’ “I don’t care —it isn’t right. I can see that, if I can r t explain it. It may be wicked to wish ’at a few more Spanish brigs ’ud do the same as the Sandy Stariar did j but I wish it. Then you never, never need go out on that awful cruel sea again, but might get on at the gasworks or the quay.” The skipper dlrew his wif© towtards him, and tried to laugh her misery away, Bub all the same he felt, in a helpless sort of way, that there was something wrong somewhere, which ought to be set right by somebody, some time. His own eyes became dim, and a lump rose in his throat. It came again when he was towed to sea on the Monday, and ■once more waved his eight weeks’ fare- - well to the woman at the pier-head, who restrained her tears until the Oavalier had been cast off by the tug, and was sailing towards the faint hard dawn that was rising above the lonely waters in the east.