Chapter V.

Otago Witness, Issue 1583, 25 March 1882, Page 25

Chapter V.

Oh (this is full of pity, . . it calls, I fear, too many curses on their heads That were the authors.

—King Henry VIII.

And now, as they ran before the wind, arose a consultation as to their course. All the other boats had disappeared from view ; and I may here state that none of them were ever seen or heard of again. This boat contained a sail, a compass, provisions and water for five days, and one experienced sailor— the first mate— who was at once voted to the command. He said that, as near as he could calculate, the nearest land was one thousand miles distant, and that with fair weather they might reach it before their provisions were exhausted, — supposing that they were not rescued first — an extremely probable thing, as, in steering for that coast, they would be in the direct route of outward-bound vessels. No one having any better plan to propose, the mate's advice was adopted unanimously, and the boat's head laid in the direction of the wished-for land. Slowly the sea went down, and all that day and the next the trade winds sent the boat steadily and swiftly on its course. Th«n occurred the first death, — the baby of a poor young emigrant, whose drunken husband had been one of those who rushed to the first boat. The child's death — which took place towards the afternoon of the second day— was almost a relief to the rest : for its pitiful wailing had been incessant. But the poor mother,— it was her all, and to save its life she would gladly have given her own. All through the long hours of that afternoon she sat in a stupor of grief, the body clasped in her arms, and none had the heart to disturb her. Towards dusk, however, Mrs Smith, at a sign from the doctor, laid her hand on the bowed shoulder of the stricken woman, and whispered a few words in her. ear. Raising her, nead, she gazed round on the wild waste of • waters, and a strong shudder convulsed her.

' I can't,' she cried, in a thrilling tone ; ' ah ! I cannot. My little baby ; and it is so deep 1' And again she shuddered. ' This is not your baby,' said Kenneth Allon, gently, touching the little form lying so Btilly m its mother's lap ; • ' your baby is up there '— and he pointed to the blue heavens above them — ' happy, and free from pain. Soon, perhaps very soon, you will join him. Do not fear, then, to give the sea your treasure, for you shall surely receive it back again one day. 1 Calmed by the gentle, confident words, the Eoor woman suffered Mrs Smith to take the ody. The doctor began, in unusually slow and reverent tones, to recite the burial service from memory ; but when he would have lifted the little form gently over the side, the mother sprang up, nearly upsetting the boat, and reclasped it in her embrace. The child's little cloak had been fastened about it by Mrs Smith, in the best manner possible : wraps were scarce in the boat, and none had been forthcoming to serve as a shroud. Now the mother took off the large plaid shawl she wore— her only protection from the burning rays of tho mid-day sun, or the chill night wind— but what cared she for that— andtenderly, oh so tenderly, wrapped it round the little unconscious form that never more would feel either heat or cold. Then once more resigning it, she sank down in her seat, and remained motionless, her face buried in her hands. In the dusk, somo one — was it the doctor ?— took off his coat and laid it across her shoulders. He received it back again in the morning— she had joined her child. That day there was another burial, and those who were loft, haggard and careworn, began to ask themselves who would be the next.

This was now the third morning since the wreck ; the fair and steady wind, which had been wafting them so swiftly towards their desired haven, died suddenly away j and then they discovered that there was no oars in the boat ! A groan of despair, broke from them as

they realised their situation, and for a time they were desperate. But nothing could be done, and they gradually settled down again, some to sullen apathy, a few to calm and patient Trust.

So the miserable morning wore away. Towards afternoon, however, the treacherous wind again sprang up, filling the hanging sail, and reviving hope once more. An hour later a cry, ' A sail ! a sail ! ' sent an electric shock of joy and thankfulness through every breast. All eyes were turned towards the welcome sight ; how eagerly they watched it, tho first they had seen since their shipwreck, until at length, from a mere speck, it stood out in bold relief between them and the horizon, a splendid full-rigged ship, with every stitch of canvas set. Nearer it came, and nearer. Dr Gryffyths, half beside himself • with excitement, fastened his handkerchief to the end of his stick, and waved it frantically. Then, uniting their voices, they sent over the water a ringing shout. Evidently they were seen from the vessel ; people could oe discerned on her decks watching them. The ship' itself seemed to hesitate, as if about to take in sail and wait for them to come up. Hope sprang high in every breast ; the misery, the danger were over— they were saved I Who, then, shall picture their feelings when the stately ship swept past them, and continued on her course, without the slightest effort having been put forth for their rescue ! The horror was at first too great to be realised. Breathless with suspense, they watched with straining eyes for her to stop ; but, as she still bore on j her way, the awful truth forced itself upon them, and a shout of bitter, despairing execra- 1 tion followed the now fast-receding vessel. Truth is stranger than fiction, oftentimes more horrible than any fiction would dare to be. Had not such an incident occurred in real life, I had hesitated to write it down here. The castaways were right— they had been observed from the vessel, and the captain's first intention had been to rescue them ; but second thoughts intervened. • The ship, a new one, and built on a new plan, was on her first voyage, and her owners had staked a considerable sum on her making port by a certain date— some days in advance of the shortest voyage yet on record. The captain had been promised a handsome bonus if they won ; and not a soul on board but what felt as great an interest in the result of the voyage as the owners themselves. Hitherto they nad been aggravated by calms, and light, baffling winds ; but the day before they nad caught the trades, and tho captain was jubilant. His second thoughts, on seeing the boat. ■ were— That it would lose a great deal of time to shorten sail and pick them up, just when every moment was so precious ; and that, being in the direct route of vessels, they would sure to be rescued soon by some one better able to stop than he was. And so the ship was kept on ncr course, and though afew raised their protest against such inhumanity, it availed not to alter the captain's determination. Little did he think, pacing the quarter-deck in security —steadfastly keeping his eyes turned fromthe direction of the abandoned boat's erew — little did he think that that same frail boat contained t his only son ! But so it was. Hitherto they had always sailed together ; but, owing to circumstances which have nothing to dowith thjs story, they had separated, the son going as first mate in the Australia, while His father took command of the new vessel, which was abandoning the castaways to their fate. But the measure of mercy he had meted out to others was returned upon himself. Nevermore was the ship, or ought belonging to her, seen or heard of. As vessel after vessel made port, reporting voyages of uncommon prosperity, the new ship was anxiously looked for ; in vain, though it was long before men would credit that any harm could have happened to her— a brand-new vessel on her first voyage. _ At last she was given up, and men shook their heads. ' A mysterious providence,' said they ; but had the circumstances been fully knowp, they might have reconsidered their verdict, and brought in a ' just judgment.' ;