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Three Midshipmen

<h3>Chapter Eight.</h3> <h4>Bound for Africa.</h4> One morning, towards the termination of breakfast, Jack Rogers was leaning back in his chair, with a bit of buttered toast in one hand and the Times in the other, on the contents of which he was making a running commentary, when he stopped short, put down his toast, took a hurried sip of his tea, and exclaimed, “So my old skipper has got a ship again, and they say is going out as commodore to the coast of Africa.” “Dear me!” observed Mrs Rogers, “I am afraid that Captain Lascelles will not like that; I should always have such a horror of that dreadful station.” “Oh, mother, don’t pray entertain such a notion as that,” said Jack, with no little emphasis. “There is in the first place plenty of work to be done there, which in these piping times of peace is a great consideration. Only think of the fun of capturing a slaver, and what is more, of getting an independent command; or at least that is of a prize, you know, and being away from one’s ship for weeks together. And then there is cruising in open boats, and exploring rivers, and fights with pirates or slavers; perhaps a skirmish with the dependents of some nigger potentate, and fifty other sorts of adventures, not to speak of prize-money and all that sort of thing, you know. Oh, to my mind, the coast of Africa is one of the best stations in the world, in spite of what is said against it.” When Jack made this assertion, he had never been there. He talked on till he had worked himself up to a fit of enthusiasm, and almost made his family believe that the African station was not so bad a one after all. The truth was that when Captain Lascelles paid off the Racer he promised Jack that should he get another ship soon he would apply for him, and Jack therefore felt pretty certain that he should himself be very soon on station, and he of course was anxious to prevent his parents or sisters from feeling any undue anxiety on his account. He could not sit down or turn his mind to anything all day till he discovered a copy of the Cruise of the Midge, over the graphic pages of which he was observed to be intently poring; and then he went and routed out of the library one or two books descriptive of the west coast of Africa. At dinner he could talk of nothing else but the Gold Coast, and the Ivory Coast, and Congo, and other places in those regions. “Why, Jack, we might suppose that you were contemplating going out there from the way you talk about those places,” observed one of his brothers, who wanted to bring some other subject on the tapis. “And so of course I am,” exclaimed Jack. “I should like to stay at home among you all; but as I have chosen a profession, and there is not another like it, I hope to stick to it, and I intend always to look out where there is most work to be done, and to go there.” “My dear child,” said his mother, “but not to the coast of Africa.” Then Jack went into all the arguments in its favour, which he flattered himself had made so favourable an impression at breakfast, but which he found had all been forgotten, while the original very natural prejudice against it had once more asserted a pre-eminence in the minds of his family. The next morning Jack was unusually fidgety till the post came in, and there was a blank look on his countenance when the post-bag was opened and it produced no letter for him. Soon after breakfast, however, Admiral Triton’s carriage drove up to the door, and out of it stepped the admiral himself. He quickly stumped into the drawing-room, and having made his salaams to the ladies, produced an official-looking document from his pocket. Jack had followed him eagerly into the room. “Here, my boy,” said he, “is a letter from my friend Lascelles, your old captain. He says—let me see what he says. Oh! here it is. ‘I cannot find the address of Jack Rogers, so pray tell him to come down to Portsmouth at once and join the Ranger. I have just been appointed to her, to go out as commodore on the African station. Let his outfit be got ready accordingly. I have no doubt that he will find some opportunity of distinguishing himself; and as he has already served four years, there is a fair chance of his getting his promotion when he returns home.’ The rest is private,” observed the admiral, when he had concluded this somewhat laconic epistle. “And now, Jack, I congratulate you, my lad,” he continued. “You have been quite long enough on shore to rub up your shore manners, and that is as long as a midshipman ought to remain at home. How soon shall you be ready?” “In ten days or a fortnight I think that I could get his shirts and flannel waistcoats made, and his socks marked, and his—” “I beg your pardon, my dear madam, but by that time the Ranger may be halfway across the Bay of Biscay. Ten or fourteen hours you should say. He must go and see his ship fitted out. He’ll never be at home in her unless he does. Well, well, then the day after to-morrow I intend to go down with him. I enjoyed my last trip so much that I would not miss the opportunity of seeing him on board his new ship. I know what you would say, my dear madam, but a longer delay would be objectionable. Rogers will agree with me. There, it is settled, so let us say no more about the matter.” Thus Jack found himself, more speedily than he expected, about to go once more afloat. That afternoon, in company with two of his brothers and his sister Mary, he galloped round and paid his farewells to his friends in the neighbourhood; and then his chest was packed, the contents of which all the womankind in and out of the house, for a long way round, had been employed without cessation, night and day, in getting ready. So when the admiral, as he had done four years before, drove up to the door, he was perfectly ready to accompany him. Jack did his best to keep up the spirits of his mother and sister to the last, though just as he was going they gave way, and he himself was nearly upset. All the fighting he had seen had not hardened his heart. Away he and the admiral went down to Portsmouth. The next morning they were, soon after breakfast, on board the Ranger, then fitting out alongside a hulk. She was a six and thirty gun frigate, no great improvement on the Racer, but still a ship which an actively disposed officer might well be glad to get. Several of the officers had already joined, and the admiral made a few favourable remarks about Jack, which placed him at once in a favourable light in their eyes. Captain Lascelles, who was living on shore, welcomed him very kindly, and Jack was very well pleased with what he saw of his future companions. The third lieutenant of the frigate had not been appointed. However, three or four days after Jack had joined, who should make his appearance but old Hemming, who had, on the paying off of the Racer, got his somewhat tardy promotion. Jack did not know that he was promoted, and was not a little pleased to find that he was their third lieutenant. Jack had written to Adair and Murray directly he found that he was appointed to the Ranger, urging them to exert all their interest to get appointed to her likewise, but he had not yet heard from either of them. One was in Ireland, the other in Scotland. Hemming laughed when he told him what he had done. “Their friends may take some trouble to get them on board a ship going to the Mediterranean, or to keep them on the Home station; but depend on it they will not bestir themselves to have them sent out to the Coast,” he remarked. Captain Lascelles’ character was well-known, so he soon got his ship manned and ready for sea. Admiral Triton had gone over to the Isle of Wight, and now came off to Spithead to see the last of them. There was still room for another midshipman. They were expecting every day to sail, and Jack was in despair at not hearing from either of his friends, wondering what would have become of them, when a shore-boat was seen coming off to the ship, and Paddy Adair and his chest came up the side. “Hurrah!” exclaimed Jack, as soon as he saw him; “that is jolly. But I say, old fellow, where is Murray? I wish that he was here too.” Adair could not tell, and they puzzled their brains in vain to account for his silence. The topsails were loosed, the capstan was manned, and to a merry tune the men were running round and heaving up the anchor, and as the fine old admiral was shaking hands with all he knew on board just before stepping into his boat, Jack could scarcely persuade himself that four years had passed over his head since, with the exception that Murray was not present as one of the dramatis persona, precisely the same scene had been enacted. The Ranger had a quick run to Sierra Leone, where her arrival was welcomed with very great delight by all on board the ship she came to relieve. The frigate at last cast anchor opposite Freetown, and Jack and Adair were allowed with several of the officers to go on shore. They were surprised at finding so large and flourishing a town, with a population, although the greater number are black or coloured, so generally intelligent and well off. They saw churches, and colleges, and schools, and places of education of all sorts. They were told that many of the negroes liberated from slavers have become wealthy, and that the sons of men who landed on those shores twenty years ago ignorant savages, are now receiving a first-rate education, and studying Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, many of them diligently preparing for becoming ministers of the gospel. Freetown, built on rising ground, close to the sea, has a very picturesque appearance. Jack and Adair were also struck with the number of people who came into the town to trade, and with the signs of industry everywhere visible. However, they were not sorry to find themselves once more at sea, with a sharp lookout kept night and day for slavers. The officers were in general very different in appearance from those in the Racer, though they were all very good sort of fellows. The oddest looking was Dr McCan, the surgeon. He was a jovial-faced short man, and from having lived a life of ease on shore he had grown enormously fat. As he had also got into a very comfortable practice, he did not at all like coming to sea, but at the same time, as he was a true philosopher, instead of moaning and groaning, he tried to make himself as happy as under the circumstances he was able. The first lieutenant was a veteran of the old school, tall and thin, but as lithe and agile as he had been when he was twenty years younger. He was constantly employed, because every captain who knew him wanted him as his first lieutenant, and so, because he was so very good in that capacity, John Holt remained still a lieutenant. He did not complain beyond an occasional grumble; indeed those who knew him suspected that he rather preferred being looked on as one of the best first lieutenants instead of holding a higher rank, when he would have had to remain on shore and be forgotten. The second lieutenant and master were both rough and ready seamen, short, strongly-built men, with light hair, and large bushy whiskers and beard; they were wonderfully like each other. The purser was one of the most gentlemanly and best educated men in the ship. The marine officer was also a very excellent fellow, but he squinted awfully, which made him carry his head somewhat on one side; and his face was broad and strongly seamed with lines, which twisted in a way that made him look as if he was always laughing. He however did laugh very frequently, more especially at his own jokes, which, if not always original, were very amusing. In the midshipmen’s berth there were several mates of long standing, who had come out on the station in the hopes of getting their promotion, while besides Rogers and Adair there were three other midshipmen, with their usual complement of other grades. The frigate lay long enough off Freetown to make every one rejoice to find themselves once more at sea. Lookouts were constantly aloft on the watch for slavers. They had not been at sea many days, when the exciting cry of “Sail ho!” was heard from the mast-head. Several of the officers were soon seen going up the rigging with their spy-glasses slung over their shoulders to look out for the stranger. She was made out to be a ship dead to leeward. All sail was instantly made in chase—she might be a merchantman, or possibly a man-of-war; but that was not likely, and Captain Lascelles had received information that a large slave-ship was expected off the coast. It was not till nearly an hour had elapsed that the stranger bore up and made sail to escape. This left no doubt as to her character, and every one looked forward to the capture of an important prize. The frigate sailed remarkably well, but a stern chase is a long chase, and several hours more passed before the topsails of the stranger were seen above the horizon. Jack and Terence could scarcely tear themselves from the deck even to go below to dinner. “I say, Paddy,” observed the former, “I wonder whether you or I shall be sent away in her when we take her. Will Hemming go in command, or will one of the mates?—Lee or Weedon, perhaps.” “Let us catch our hare before we eat her,” said Adair. “I tell you what I do wish; that we were in a smaller craft, and then you and I would have a chance of getting sent away together. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Jack agreed that it would, but both of them began to look very blank when darkness closed in on them, and the chase was still several miles ahead. When the frigate first made out the chase she was standing to the eastward, and was about a hundred miles off Cape Palmas. She was then running towards the Bight of Biafra. Captain Lascelles kept the frigate on nearly the same course, edging slightly in towards the land, for he suspected that the ship was bound in for one of the harbours on the Gold or Slave-Coast, and would probably stand in towards the land during the night. Neither of the midshipmen turned in that night. The thought that they were about to take their first prize kept, indeed, many others out of their hammocks, and sharp eyes were on the watch for her in every direction during the night. In spite of their sharpness, however, not a sign of the chase could be discovered. Yet as she was not seen on either hand, the probabilities were that she was still ahead. “Do you know, Terence, this reminds me of the time when we chased the Turkish frigate which had you on board off the Egyptian coast,” said Jack. “I only hope that we may be more fortunate, and catch her before she gets on shore and blows up.” “I shall be glad if we can catch her on the water, or earth, or sky,” answered Terence. “These slavers are slippery fellows, and it is no easy matter to get hold of them.” The night wore on. When the morning at length broke the mast-heads were crowded with visitors. They rubbed their eyes and their telescopes, and then looked through the latter, and rubbed and rubbed again; and then they pulled very long faces at each other, for the ship could nowhere be seen. Many of them remained aloft, still looking for her, but at last they came down and looked at each other, and voted themselves sold. However, they went to breakfast, and as they walked the deck after it they hoped that they might have better luck next time. The men’s dinner was just over, when once more everybody was put on the alert by hearing “Sail ho!” sung out from the mast-head. “Where away?” asked Captain Lascelles, who was walking the deck at the time. “Right ahead, sir,” was the answer. The captain himself went aloft. When he came down again he told Mr Holt that he believed she was the identical ship they had chased the previous day. The frigate rapidly got up with her. “How jolly to think that we shall catch her after all,” exclaimed Jack, as they got near enough to the chase to see halfway down her courses. “But what is the matter with her? She seems to have altered her course.” “She is becalmed, to be sure,” answered Lieutenant Hemming, who heard the question. “Daddy Neptune has brought her up all standing, to place her as a punishment in our power. I only hope he will not make a mistake and becalm us till we get up to her.” In another hour or less the stranger was seen floating in the middle of a shining sheet of water of silvery hue. Still the frigate carried on the breeze. It was a question whether the stranger would get it, and perhaps make a fresh start, leaving her pursuer in the lurch. The excitement on board the frigate became greater than ever when the stranger was seen, for there was no longer any doubt about her character. Her taut masts, her square yards, the great hoist of her topsails, and her light cotton canvas, all showed her to be a slaver, probably combined with the occupation of a pirate. Gradually the wind decreased as the frigate neared her; when within about a couple of miles it fell a dead calm. Captain Lascelles gave a rapid glance round the horizon, and then ordered away the first and second cutters with a large whale-boat, and directed the second and third lieutenants and one of the mates to join them. Jack and Terence got leave to accompany Mr Hemming. It was very evident, from the appearance of the stranger, that she would give them some tough work before they took her. With loud cheers the expedition shoved off from the frigate’s side and pulled away for the ship. The three boats contained altogether from five and thirty to forty hands. It was broad daylight. There would have been no use in disguising their intentions. If the slaver attempted to defend herself at all, they might well expect some desperate fighting, and from her appearance it could scarcely be expected that she would do otherwise. Hemming’s boat, which pulled the fastest, got the lead. The men every now and then gave a cheer to animate each other. They rapidly neared the slaver, as the smooth shining water bubbled and hissed under the boats’ bows. Oh, how hot it was, as the sun’s rays came directly down on their heads; but no one thought of the heat, and they laughed and joked as if they were employed in some amusing occupation. “I say, Paddy, I think we could do a beefsteak brown on these stern-sheets,” observed Jack, putting his hand down by his side. “That to be sure we might,” answered Terence. “And here comes the pepper for them,” he added, as the pirate sent a shower of round shot, grape, and canister flying around, and stirring up the water on every side, though fortunately no one was hit. “Give it them in return, my lads,” cried the second lieutenant; “marines, fire.” The marines were not slow in obeying the order, and as the seamen bent to their oars, they continued firing away as fast as they could load. The slaver’s crew had evidently hopes of crippling their adversaries, for they kept up a brisk and well-directed fire; but, hot as it was, the gallant British tars were undaunted. “That dark ship has, perhaps, four or five hundred poor wretches under hatches whom it is our business to set free,” cried Lieutenant Hemming. “And then, my boys, if we do take her, what a lot of prize-money we shall get? Hurrah! hurrah!” Hemming had been too long at sea not to know how to excite the spirit of seamen. “We shall have some tough work, hurrah! hurrah! You’ll knock over some of those pirates, depend on it.” Each officer excited his men by similar cries. Their only fear was that a breeze might spring up, and that the enemy might escape them. However, though they pulled hard, nearly half an hour passed from the time the first shot was fired till they got up to the ship. “What an ugly set of cut-throats the fellows are,” said Adair, pointing to the people who crowded the pirate’s deck. “Let’s be at them, Jack.” Jack was quite ready to respond to the proposal. The two other boats boarded on the starboard side, amid a hot fire of langrage of all sorts poured down upon them. Hemming pulled up on the port bow, sprang up the side, and soon fought his way upon deck. Jack and Adair were climbing in at one of the ports when the pirates fired the gun through it directly over their heads. “Come on, Paddy, come on,” Jack sang out; but Adair had been knocked over into the bottom of the boat. Happily, however, he was only kilt, as the Irish say; so he clambered up again, and quickly followed his friend, accompanied by Dick Needham, who had joined the Ranger, and another seaman. Fortunate it was for the midshipmen that they had so stout and true a seaman as Dick Needham as their companion; for they encountered a desperate resistance from the pirates, and were instantly engaged in furious hand-to-hand combats. Meantime, so surrounded were they by their enemies, that they could not tell what had become of the rest of their shipmates. More than once they were nearly driven back through the port by which they had entered. Jack saved Adair from an ugly cut on the head, and Adair in return saved Jack from being run through the body, by cutting down the pirate who was making the attempt to do it. Both of them, as well as Dick Needham, were nearly exhausted, and poor Tom Bowles, their companion, had received a wound which brought him to the deck, when Hemming’s voice was heard above their heads, and he leaped down from the forecastle, off which he had driven the enemy. With loud cheers he led on his men; the pirates gave way before them. Then Lieutenant Collard and Randall were seen fighting their way from aft. The pirates looked about them, and seeing enemies on every side, gave way, some leaping below, and some throwing themselves overboard. Fully a dozen pirates were killed, and a still greater number were wounded. Many did not even ask for quarter. Others threw themselves on their knees, as their captors followed them below, and entreated that their lives might be spared. The victory was not gained without loss. A marine and two seamen were killed and five were wounded, a large proportion out of the number composing the expedition. No sooner were the decks cleared than a terrific howl was heard from below. Mr Hemming rushed to the hold; just at that moment a whole host of negroes were seen emerging from it. He was barely in time to drive them back again. “I know the rascally slavers’ trick,” he exclaimed; “they have been telling the poor wretches that we are going to murder them; and if they once had gained the deck, we should have had no little difficulty in preventing them from murdering us.” Then looking down the hold on the heaving mass of black humanity, he cried out, “Hear me, you piratical rascals; if you don’t make those poor negro fellows understand that we are their friends, and have come to set them free, we’ll hang every one of you at your own yard-arms before ten minutes.” He knew that many of the crew understood English perfectly, indeed that some of them were English and Americans. The pirates, finding that their plot was defeated, wisely came on deck, having explained to the slaves that no harm was going to happen to them. As they came up they were secured by the manacles which they had prepared for their unhappy captives. Some time was thus employed, and at length a breeze sprang up, and the frigate was seen bearing down upon them. The prisoners looked very blank when they found that they were to be transferred to her. The gallantry of every one engaged was warmly commended by Captain Lascelles. Hemming got the command of the prize, and to their great delight Jack and Terence were allowed to remain in her. The frigate and her prize then made sail together for Sierra Leone. They kept close in with the land in the hopes of picking up another prize. Before, however, they got round Cape Palmas they met with a strong westerly gale, which compelled them to bring up in a sheltered bay, which is to be found some way to the eastward of it. The scenery was not very interesting. Near them was a narrow neck of sand, with a few palm-trees on it, and a muddy lagoon on the other side. Still, men who have been long aboard are glad to find anything like firm ground on which to stretch their legs. Now the surgeon and the lieutenant of marines were constantly joking each other as to which of them possessed the greatest physical powers. If one boasted he had ridden fifty miles without stopping, the other had always gone ten miles farther. If one had leaped over a wide ditch, the other had leaped over one five feet wider, or if one said he had kept up a Scotch reel for an hour, the other had danced one for a quarter of an hour longer. “I’ll tell you what, doctor,” explained Lieutenant Stokes; “I’ll undertake to race you for a mile, each of us carrying another person on our backs.” “Done,” cried Doctor McCan; “it shall come off at once. I’ll take Adair as my jockey; you can take whom you like.” Adair was the lightest midshipman on board, and the doctor thought that by getting him he had stolen a march on his military competitor. “Agreed,” answered Lieutenant Stokes, cocking his squinting eye in the most ludicrous way. “I’ll take Rogers. He’s a bit heavier than Adair, but I don’t mind that. As you had the first choice of a rider, I must choose the ground. From the extreme end of that spit of land to the palm-trees near the neck is, I guess, about a mile.” This was said while the frigate and her prize were brought up on their voyage to Sierra Leone. Doctor McCan looked at the white spit of sand, and thought what heavy work it would be running over it; but he felt that he was in honour bound to keep to the proposed terms. A party was soon made up to go on shore, and all hands looked forward to the fun they expected to enjoy from the exhibition. They had first to pull alongside the prize to call for Rogers and Adair. Hemming gave them leave to go, and they of course were nothing loath to accept the invitation. What Captain Lascelles would have thought of the matter I don’t know. He might have considered that the exhibition of an officer of marines racing with a midshipman on his back was somewhat subversive of discipline. There was no surf on the shore, and the boats landed without difficulty. The ground was measured by the umpires. It was from the end of the point round the palm-trees and back again about a quarter of the distance to make up the mile. The doctor felt the sand with his feet. It was very fine and soft, and he began to repent of his proposal. “Now, gentlemen, take up your burdens and be ready at the starting-post,” said the master, who was chief umpire. They went to the ground, tossing up the midshipmen to make them sit comfortably on their backs. “Now—one, two, three, and away you go!” cried the master. Off they went, the marine officer prancing away with Jack in the pride of his strength, while the doctor ploughed his way steadily on through the sand, finding, even with Adair, that he had rather more flesh and blood to carry than was pleasant. Still Mr Stokes did not gain upon him. He too found that Rogers was no slight weight, though he was only a midshipman—as Jack said of himself, “All that is of me is good.” For some time they were neck and neck. Hot enough they found it, for the sun was bright, the sand was soft, there was but little air, and what there was was in their backs. They were lightly clad, to be sure; but had they worn as little clothing as the most unsophisticated of negroes, they would have found it hot enough. They puffed, and they blew, and they strained, but still they persevered. At first neither Rogers nor Adair cared much about the matter, but they soon got as excited as the men who carried them, and eager for their respective steeds to win. “I say, doctor,” observed Adair, after they had gone about half the distance, “the sand inside of us there, along the lagoon, looks hard. It would not take us much out of our way if we were to go there, and you would then get along famously.” Terence intended to give good counsel, and the doctor followed it. To his great delight he found the ground hard, and was getting on at a great rate. Jack urged Mr Stokes to take the same route. “Stay a bit; all is not gold that glitters,” was the answer. “That’s treacherous sort of ground.” “But see, see how magnificently they get along,” cried Jack, again wishing that he had a bridle to guide his refractory steed. All this time the umpires and other spectators were keeping up merry shouts of laughter. “There they go,” shouted Jack; “they will be round the trees in no time.” Just as he spoke there was a loud hullabaloo from Terence, echoed by the doctor. Over they both went head first, but the doctor’s heels did not follow, for they had stuck fast in the mud, into which poor Terence’s head plunged with a loud thud. The doctor heroically endeavoured to pull him out, but his own legs only stuck deeper and deeper. As the marine officer came up and passed by them, he began capering about and neighing in triumph, while Jack barbarously inquired whether they would like to have a tow. At last Terence, covered with mud, black and most ill-odorous, scrambled out, and, by throwing to him the end of his handkerchief, contrived to haul out the doctor, who once more took him on his shoulders, and in sorry plight continued his course. Jack looked round and saw them coming just as Mr Stokes was about to round the palm-trees. He crowed loudly and waved his hand. It would have been wiser, however, if he had not begun to triumph so soon, for his steed’s foot catching in a falling and half-hidden branch, over they both went, and were half buried and almost stifled in the soft hot sand. However, they picked themselves up; and, Jack, mounting, away they went towards the goal where their friends were ready to receive them. Just as they got up to it, down came the gallant marine once more, but Jack stuck to his back, and on all fours he crawled up to the winning-post. The poor doctor, with Terence, as Jack said, like a huge baboon clinging behind him, came in soon after; and the doctor declared that it was the last time, with or without a jockey, he would ever run a race on the shores of Africa or anywhere else. In the afternoon the blacks in parties were taken on shore under an armed escort to bathe and exercise themselves; and the next day, the wind shifting, the frigate and captured slaver again made sail for their destination. “The frigate is signalising to us,” said Jack one morning to Lieutenant Hemming, who had just come on deck. “She is going in chase of a sail to the southward. We are to continue our course for Sierra Leone.” In a couple of hours the frigate was out of sight. There appeared to be every promise of fine weather. Hemming’s chief concern was for the blacks, who were sickly. Several had already died, and not a day passed without four or five being added to the number. It was important, therefore, to make the passage as quickly as possible. For this object the commanding officer kept probably more sail on the ship than she would otherwise have carried. Jack one afternoon had charge of the watch; all seemed satisfactory. As he was taking a turn on deck, he saw Dick Needham hurrying towards him and pointing to the sea to leeward. It was a mass of white foam. He shouted out, “All hands shorten sail!” Hemming and Adair rushed out of the cabin. Hemming without speaking seized an axe, and began cutting away at the halyards; Adair and Jack followed his example. The crew flew into the rigging with their knives, but it was too late. The tornado was upon them; over went the ship; down, down she heeled. The seething water rushed in at her ports. Shrieks and cries arose from the unhappy negroes confined below. Jack and Needham’s first impulse was to knock off the hatches, and a few blacks sprang on deck before the sea closed over their heads. “The ship is sinking, the ship is sinking,” was the cry fore and aft. “Then a raft must be formed, my lads,” sang out Lieutenant Hemming. “Never say die, while life remains.” <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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