The Castaways of the Flag (7 page)

           
It seemed to
them that to be reunited was the greatest grace that Heaven could have bestowed
on them.

           
And yet what
peril menaced them aboard this boat! Only four bags of biscuit and salt meat
had been flung into it, with three casks of fresh water, a few cooking
utensils, and a bundle of clothes and blankets taken at random from the
cabins—a meagre supply at best.

           
But they were
together! Death alone could separate them henceforward.

           
They were not
given much time to reflect. In a few moments, with the freshening wind, the
Flag
would be several miles away.

           
The boatswain
had taken his place at the tiller, and Fritz and Frank theirs at the foot of
the mast, ready to hoist the sail directly the boat should be free from the
shelter of the ship.

           
Captain Gould
had been laid down under the forward deck. Jenny was ministering to him where
he lay stretched out on the blankets, for he was unable to stand.

           
On the
Flag
the sailors were leaning over the nettings, looking on in silence. Not one
of them felt a spark of pity for their victims. Their fierce eyes gleamed in
the darkness.

           
Just at this
moment a voice was raised—the voice of Captain Gould, to whom his indignation
restored some strength. He struggled to his feet, dragged himself from bench to
bench, and half stood up.

           
"You
brutes!" he cried. "You shall not escape man's justice!"

           
"Nor yet
God's justice!" Frank added.

           
"Cast
off!" cried Borupt.

           
The rope
dropped into the water, the boat Was left alone, and the ship disappeared into
the darkness of the night.

           
IT was Frank
who had shouted "Land!" in tones of stentorian salutation. Standing
erect upon the poop, he had thought he could see vague outlines of a coast
through a rift in the fog. So he seized the halyards and scrambled to the
masthead where, sitting astride the yard, he kept his eyes fixed steadily in
the direction where he had seen it.

           
Close upon
ten minutes passed before he caught another glimpse to the northward. He slid
to the foot of the mast.

            "You saw the
coast?" Fritz asked sharply. "Yes, over there; under the rim of that
thick cloud which hides the horizon now."

           
"Are you
sure you were not mistaken, Mr. Frank?" John Block said.

           
"No, bos'un,
no, I was not mistaken! The cloud has spread over the place again now, but the
land is behind it. I saw it; I swear I saw it!"

           
Jenny had
just risen and grasped her husband's arm.

           
"We must
believe what Frank says," she declared. "His sight is wonderfully
keen. He could not make a mistake."

           
"I
haven't made a mistake," Frank said. "You must all believe me, as
Jenny does. I saw a cliff distinctly. It was visible for nearly a minute
through a break in the clouds. I couldn't tell whether it ran to the east or
the west; but, island or continent, the land is there!"

           
How could
they be sceptical about what Frank declared so positively?

           
To what land
the coast belonged they might learn when the boat had reached it. Anyhow, her
passengers, five men, namely Fritz and Frank and James, Captain Gould and the
boatswain John Block, and three women, Jenny, Dolly, and Susan, together with
the child, would most certainly disembark upon its coast, whatever it might be.

           
If it offered
no resources, if it were uninhabitable, or if the presence of natives made it
dangerous, the boat would put to sea again, after revictualing as well as
possible.

           
Captain Gould
was immediately informed and, in spite of his weakness and pain, he insisted on
being carried to the stern of the boat.

           
Fritz began
to make some comments about the signalled land.

           
"What is
of the most concern to us at the present moment, is its distance from here.
Given the height from which it was observed, and also the foggy state of the
atmosphere, the distance cannot be more than twelve or fifteen miles."

           
Captain Gould
made a sign of assent, and the boatswain nodded.

           
"So with
a good breeze blowing towards the northward," Fritz went on, "two
hours should be enough to take us to it."

           
"Unfortunately,"
said Frank, "the breeze is very uncertain, and seems to be inclined to go
back. If it doesn't drop altogether I am afraid it may be against us."

           
"What
about the oars?" Fritz rejoined. "Can't we take to the oars, my
brother and James, and I, while you take the tiller, bos'un? We could row for
several hours."

           
"Take to
the oars!" Gould commanded, in an almost inaudible voice.

           
It was a pity
that the captain was not in a fit state to steer, for, with four of them to
row, the crew might have made a better job of it.

           
Besides,
although Fritz and Frank and James were in the full vigour of youth, and the
boatswain was a sturdy fellow still, and all were thoroughly hardened to
physical exercise, yet they were terribly weakened now by privation and
fatigue. A week had passed since they had been cast adrift from the
Flag.
They
had economised their provisions, yet only enough remained to last them for
twenty-four hours. On three or four occasions they had caught a few fish by
trailing lines behind the boat. A little stove, a little kettle, and a saucepan
were all the utensils they possessed, besides their pocket knives. And if this
land were no more than a rocky island, if the boat were obliged to resume her
painful course for more long days, looking for a continent or an island where
existence might be possible— what then?

           
But all felt
hope reviving again. Instead of the boat that was threatened by squalls and
tossed about by the waves and half filled by the sea, they would at least feel
firm ground under their feet. They would install themselves in some cave to
shelter there from bad weather. Perhaps they would find a fertile soil, with
edible roots and fruits. And there they would be able to await the passing of a
ship, without need to fear hunger or thirst The ship would see their signals,
would come to the rescue of the castaways—all that and more they saw through
the mirage of hope!

           
Did the coast
thus seen belong to some group of islands situated beyond the Tropic of
Capricorn? That was what the boatswain and Fritz discussed in undertones. Jenny
and Dolly had resumed their seats in the bottom of the boat, and the little boy
was sleeping in Mrs. Wolston's arms. Captain Gould, eaten up with fever, had
been carried back under the poop, and Jenny was soaking compresses in cold
water to lay upon his head.

           
Fritz
propounded many theories, none of them very encouraging. He was pretty sure
that the
Flag
had sailed a long way to the east during the week after
the mutiny. In that case the boat would have been cast adrift in that part of
the Indian Ocean where the charts show only a few islands, Amsterdam and Saint
Paul, or, farther south, the archipelago of Kerguelen. Yet even in these
islands, the former deserted, the latter inhabited, life would be assured,
salvation certain, and—who could say?—some day or other they might be able to
get home from there.

           
Besides, if
since the 27th of September, the ship's boat had been carried northwards by the
breeze from the south, it was just possible that this land was part of the Australian
continent. If they got to Hobart Town, Melbourne, or Adelaide, they would be
safe. But if the boat landed in the south-west portion, in King George's Bay or
by Cape Leeuwin, a country inhabited by hordes of savages, the position would
be more serious. Here at sea there was at least a chance of falling in with a
ship bound for Australia or some of the Pacific Islands.

           
"Anyhow,
Jenny," said Fritz to his wife, who had taken his place by her side again,
"we must be a long way—hundreds of miles— from New Switzerland."

           
"No
doubt," Jenny answered, "but it is something that land is there! What
your family did in your island, and what I did on the Burning Rock, we can do
again, can't we?

           
After being
tried as we have been, we have a right to have confidence in our own energy. Two
of Jean Zermatt's sons can't lose heart.''

            "My dear wife,"
Fritz replied, "if ever I were to falter I should only have to listen to you!
No; we will not fail, and we shall be splendidly backed up. The boatswain is a
man on whom to rely utterly. As for the poor captain –"

           
"He will
get over it, he will get well, Fritz, dear," Jenny said confidently.
"The fever will drop. When we get him to land he will be better attended
to, and will pick up his strength, and we shall find our leader in him once
more."

           
"Ah,
Jenny, dear," exclaimed Fritz, pressing her to his heart, "may God
grant that this land can offer us the resources that we need! I don't ask for
as much as we found in New Switzerland; we cannot expect that. The worst of all
would be to encounter savages, against whom we have no defence, and to be
obliged to put to sea again without getting fresh provisions. It would be
better to land upon a desert shore even only an island. There will be fish in
its waters and shells on its beaches, and perhaps flocks of birds, as we found
when we got to the shore at Rock Castle. We shall contrive to revictual, and
after a week or two, when we have had a rest and the captain has recovered his
strength, we could set out to discover a more hospitable coast. This boat is
sound and we have an excellent sailor to manage her. The rainy season is not
nearly due yet. We have lived through some storms already, and we should live
through more. Let this land, whatever it is, only give us some fresh
provisions, and then, with the help of God –"

           
"Fritz,
dear," Jenny answered, clasping her husband's hands in her own, "you
must say all that to our companions. Let them hear you, and they will not lose
heart."

           
"They
never have, for a moment, dear wife," said Fritz; "and if they ever
should falter, it is you, bravest and most capable of women, the English girl
of Burning Rock, who would give them hope once more!"

           
All thought
as Fritz did of this brave Jenny. While they had been shut up in their cabins
it was from her that Dolly and Susan had been encouraged to resist despair.

           
One advantage
this land seemed to have. It was not like New Switzerland, through whose waters
merchant vessels never passed. On the contrary, whether it were the southern
coast of Australia or Tasmania, or even an island in the archipelagoes of the
Pacific, its position would be marked in the naval charts.

           
But even if
Captain Gould and his companions could entertain some hope of being picked up
there, they could not be otherwise than profoundly distressed by the thought of
the distance that separated them from New Switzerland—hundreds of miles, no
doubt, since the
Flag
had sailed steadily eastwards for a whole week.