The Crew of the Water Wagtail | Page 4

leaped on the bulwarks, and the prisoners were left unguarded.
Seeing this, Grummidge quietly cut their bonds unobserved, and then hurried forward to gaze with the rest. Even the man at the tiller left his post for a moment to get a better view of the land. On returning, he found Master Trench occupying his place, and Paul Burns standing beside him with a handspike in his grasp. Oliver had also armed himself with a marlinespike in default of a better weapon.
"Go for'ard, my man," said the skipper, in a quiet voice, "an' tell your mates to get ready the anchor and stand by the cable. Haste ye, if you value life."
The man slunk away without a word.
"We seem far from land yet, Master Trench; why such haste?" asked Paul.
"Look over the stern," was the skipper's curt reply.
Paul and Oliver both did so, and saw that another squall was bearing down on them.
"Is it Newfoundland?" asked Paul.
"Ay, and an ugly coast to make in a squall. Hallo! there--if ye would not be food for fishes lay aloft and take in all sail!"
The skipper, as his wont was, gave the order in a stern tone of command, and resigned the tiller to Grummidge, who came aft at the moment. The men saw with surprise that a heavy squall was bearing down on them from the eastward. Mutiny flew, as it were, out at the hawseholes, while discipline re-entered by the cabin windows. Even Big Swinton was cowed for the moment. It may be that the peculiar way in which Paul Burns eyed him and toyed with the handspike had some effect on him. Possibly he was keenly alive to the danger which threatened them. At all events, he went to work like the rest!
And there was occasion for haste. Before the sails were properly secured, the squall struck them; the foremast was snapped off close to the deck; for a time the ship became unmanageable and drifted rapidly towards the land.
"Is that a small island that I see on the weather bow, Olly?" said the skipper to his son. "Look, your eyes are better than mine."
"Yes, father. It looks like a small one."
"Steer for that, Grummidge. We'll take shelter in its lee."
The sails were braced, and the direction of the vessel was changed, while the wreck of the foremast was being cleared away; but, just as they were drawing near to the island, the wind chopped round, and the hoped-for shelter they were approaching became suddenly a lee shore.
"Nothing can save us now," muttered Grummidge, "the Water Wagtail is going to her doom."
"You're right, my man. Before another hour goes by, she will have wagged her tail for the last time," said Master Trench, somewhat bitterly.
They were both right. In less than an hour after that the ship was hurled upon the outlying rocks of a low island. Shaken and strained as she had been during her disastrous voyage, it took but a short time to break her up, but the bow had been thrust high between two rocks and remained fast.
Circumstances do not change character, but they often bring it to the front. Heroes and poltroons may remain unknown until a sudden incident or change of condition reveals them. As the crew of the wrecked ship clustered on the fragment of the bow, and gazed on the tumultuous flood of foaming water that seethed between them and the shore, their hearts failed them for fear. Some sternly compressed their lips, and looked like men who had made up their minds to "die game." A few even looked defiant, as if daring Fate to do her worst, though the pallor of their countenances gave the lie to the expression of their features; but many of them, in the terror of the moment, cried aloud for mercy, and wildly promised amendment if their lives should be spared. A few were composed and grave. Brave men, though bad. Possibly some of these prayed. If so, they had the sense to do it silently to Him who knows the secrets of all hearts.
"No man can cross that and live," said the skipper, in a low, sad tone.
"It is my intention to try, Master Trench," said Paul Burns, grasping the end of a light line and tying it round his waist.
Little Oliver looked quickly and anxiously at his friend. His heart sank, for he saw at a glance that it was not possible to follow him. The deed, if done at all, must be done by his friend alone. Great, therefore, was the rebound of joy in the boy's heart when Paul said--
"Now, Olly, attend to me. My life, under God, may depend on close attention to my signals and the management of the line. I can trust your father and the men to haul me