The Survivors of the Chancellor: Chapter 14

Chapter 14

CHAPTER XIV.

OCTOBER 29th:--NIGHT.--The scene, as night came on, was terrible
indeed.  Notwithstanding the desperateness of our situation,
however, there was not one of us so paralyzed by fear, but that
we fully realized the horror of it all.

Poor Ruby, indeed, is lost and gone, but his last words were
productive of serious consequences.  The sailors caught his cry
of "Picrate, picrate!"  and being thus for the first time made
aware of the true nature of their peril, they resolved at every
hazard to accomplish their escape.  Beside themselves with
terror, they either did not or would not, see that no boat could
brave the tremendous waves that were raging around, and
accordingly they made a frantic rush towards the yawl.  Curtis
again made a vigorous endeavour to prevent them, but this time
all in vain; Owen urged them on, and already the tackling was
loosened, so that the boat was swung over to the ship's side, For
a moment it hung suspended in mid-air, and then, with a final
effort from the sailors, it was quickly lowered into the sea.
But scarcely had it touched the water, when it was caught by an
enormous wave which, recoiling with resistless violence, dashed
it to atoms against the "Chancellor's" side.

The men stood aghast; they were dumbfoundered.  Long-boat and
yawl both gone, there was nothing now remaining to us but a small
whale-boat.  Not a word was spoken; not a sound was heard but the
hoarse whistling of the wind, and the mournful roaring of the
flames.  From the centre of the ship, which was hollowed out like
a furnace, there issued a column of sooty vapour that ascended to
the sky.  All the passengers, and several of the crew, took
refuge in the aft-quarters of the poop.  Mrs. Kear was lying
senseless on one of the hen-coops, with Miss Herbey sitting
passively at her side; M. Letourneur held his son tightly clasped
to his bosom.  I saw Falsten calmly consult his watch, and note
down the time in his memorandum-book, but I was far from sharing
his, composure, for I was overcome by a nervous agitation that I
could not suppress.

As far as we knew, Lieutenant Walter, the boatswain, and such of
the crew as were not with us, were safe in the bow; but it was
impossible to tell how they were faring because the sheet of fire
intervened like a curtain, and cut off all communication between
stem and stern.

I broke the dismal silence, saying "All over now, Curtis."

"No, sir, not yet," he replied, "now that the panel is open we
will set to work, and pour water with all our might down into the
furnace, and may be, we shall put it out, even yet."

"But how can you work your pumps while the deck is burning?  and
how can you get at your men beyond that sheet of flame?"

He made no answer to my impetuous questions, and finding that he
had nothing more to say, I repeated that it was all over now.

After a pause, he said, "As long as a plank of the ship remains
to stand on, Mr, Kazallon, I shall not give up my hope."

But the conflagration raged with redoubled fury, the sea around
us was lighted with a crimson glow, and the clouds above shone
with a lurid glare.  Long jets of fire darted across the
hatchways, and we were forced to take refuge on the taffrail at
the extreme end of the poop.  Mrs. Kear was laid in the whale-
boat that hung from the stern, Miss Herbey persisting to the last
in retaining her post by her side.

No pen could adequately portray the horrors of this fearful
night.  The "Chancellor" under bare poles, was driven, like a
gigantic fire-ship with frightful velocity across the raging
ocean; her very speed as it were, making common cause with the
hurricane to fan the fire that was consuming her.  Soon there
could be no alternative between throwing ourselves into the sea,
or perishing in the flames.

But where, all this time, was the picrate?  perhaps, after all,
Ruby had deceived us and there was no volcano, such as we
dreaded, below our feet.

At half-past eleven, when the tempest seems at its very height
there is heard a peculiar roar distinguishable even above the
crash of the elements.  The sailors in an instant recognize its
import.

"Breakers to starboard!"  is the cry.

Curtis leaps on to the netting, casts a rapid glance at the snow-
white billows, and turning to the helmsman shouts with all his
might "Starboard the helm!"

But it is too late.  There is a sudden shock; the ship is caught
up by an enormous wave; she rises upon her beam ends; several
times she strikes the ground; the mizen-mast snaps short off
level with the deck, falls into the sea, and the "Chancellor" is
motionless.

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