The Survivors of the Chancellor: Chapter 22

Chapter 22

CHAPTER XXII.

NOVEMBER 24th to DECEMBER 1st.--Here we were then once more at
sea, and although on board a ship of which the stability was very
questionable, we had hopes, if the wind continued favourable, of
reaching the coast of Guiana in the course of a few days.

Our way was south-west and consequently with the wind, and
although Curtis would not crowd on all sail lest the extra speed
should have a tendency to spring the leak afresh, the
"Chancellor" made a progress that was quite satisfactory.  Life
on board began to fall back into its former routine; the feeling
of insecurity and the consciousness that we were merely retracing
our path doing much, however, to destroy the animated intercourse
that would otherwise go on between passenger and passenger.

The first few days passed without any incident worth recording,
then on the 29th, the wind shifted to the north, and it became
necessary to brace the yards, trim the sails, and take a
starboard tack.  This made the ship lurch very much on one side,
and as Curtis felt that she was labouring far too heavily, he
clued up the top-gallants, prudently reckoning that, under the
circumstances, caution was far more important than speed.

The night came on dark and foggy.  The breeze freshened
considerably, and, unfortunately for us, hailed from the north-
west.  Although we carried no top-sails at all, the ship seemed
to heel over more than ever.  Most of the passengers had retired
to their cabins, but all the crew remained on deck, whilst Curtis
never quitted his post upon the poop.

Towards two o'clock in the morning I was myself preparing to go
to my cabin, when Burke, one of the sailors who had been down
into the hold, came on deck with the ominous cry,--

"Two feet of water below."

In an instant Curtis and the boatswain had descended the ladder.
The startling news was only too true; the sea-water was entering
the hold, but whether the leak had sprung afresh, or whether the
caulking in some of the seams was insufficient, it was then
impossible to determine; all that could be done was to let the
ship go with the wind and wait for day.

At daybreak they sounded again:--"Three feet of water!"  was the
report, I glanced at Curtis, his lips were white, but he had not
lost his self-possession.  He quietly informed such of the
passengers as were already on deck of the new danger that
threatened us; it was better that they should know the worst, and
the fact could not be long concealed.  I told M. Letourneur that
I could not help hoping that there might yet be time to reach the
land before the last crisis came.  Falsten was about to give vent
to an expression of despair, but he was soon silenced by Miss
Herbey asserting her confidence that all would yet be well.

Curtis at once divided the crew into two sets, and made them work
incessantly, turn and turn about at the pumps.  The men applied
themselves to their task with resignation rather than with
ardour; the labour was hard and scarcely repaid them; the pumps
were constantly getting out of order, the valves being choked up
by the ashes and bits of cotton that were floating about in the
hold, while every moment that was spent in cleaning or repairing
them was so much time lost.

Slowly, but surely, the water continued to rise, and on the
following morning the soundings gave five feet for its depth, I
noticed that Curtis's brow contracted each time that the
boatswain or the lieutenant brought him their report.  There was
no doubt it was only a question of time, and not for an instant
must the efforts for keeping down the level be relaxed.  Already
the ship had sunk a foot lower in the water, and as her weight
increased she no longer rose buoyantly with the waves, but
pitched and rolled considerably.

All yesterday, and last night, the pumping continued; but still
the sea gained upon us.  The crew are weary and discouraged, but
the second officer and the boatswain set them a fine example of
endurance, and the passengers have now begun to take their turn
at the pumps.

But all are conscious of toiling almost against hope; we are no
longer secured firmly to the solid soil of the Ham Rock reef, but
we are floating over an abyss which daily, nay hourly, threatens
to swallow us into its depths.

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