tacked to get nearer, to give what assistance they could. The seas were still high, so that their view of the ship was sporadic and they were still some way off when they lost sight of the sail.
Briggs decided it was too dangerous to send a look-out even part-way up the pitching mast and so they had continued on the course of the last sighting. Unasked, William Head brought from the galley everything disposable and stayed at the stern, casting it adrift at intervals so that they had a rough marker of their passage; when, by ten o’clock, Briggs decided they had crossed the point at which they had last seen the vessel, he was able to turn and retrace his route.
It was noon when they spotted what remained and then it was hardly enough to decide what sort of vessel she had been. The torn sail lay spread over the water and a shattered spar stuck up, held oddly in position by something unseen beneath the water.
Because it was impossible to know how much remained hidden underneath the sail, and aware of the potential danger to his own hull, Briggs hove-to some way off, putting out a sea anchor despite the swell. Goodschall volunteered to go up the mast to look for survivors. The Lorensen brothers lashed him into a safety line and remained at the foot of the mast, holding the rope in case he lost his footing.
After thirty minutes, the young German gestured that there was nothing he could see and Briggs brought him down. Both Richardson and Briggs had been sweeping the sea through glasses and now they concentrated upon the wreckage.
‘Could be part of a gaff,’ said Richardson, looking at the spar jutting from the water.
‘Might have been a brig, like us.’
‘Why was she carrying so much sail?’ wondered Gilling, who had joined them at the rail. ‘Not as if the storm were sudden, after all.’
‘Could have been illness aboard, with not enough hands to work her,’ said Richardson.
‘Then whoever remained should have short-sailed her,’ pointed out Briggs. He turned, seeing Sarah and recognising immediately her need for comfort. He moved away from the mates, putting his arm around her shoulders. It was a gesture his father would have criticised, in front of the crew.
‘Poor souls,’ she said, quietly.
‘Goodschall has looked for a long time. There’s no sight of anyone,’ said Briggs.
‘I know,’ said Sarah. She shivered. ‘How can it happen, as quickly as that? Not three hours ago it was a ship, with people aboard. We could see it…’
She threw her arm out.
‘… now that’s all there is left.’
‘Sometimes it’s very quick,’ said Briggs.
‘But so little… just a sail and piece of wood.’ Fear shuddered through her again. ‘I must pray for them,’ she said.
‘We all must,’ said Briggs. ‘Go back to the cabin.’
‘No,’ refused the woman, knowing that her husband was concerned that they might still come upon some bodies. ‘Sophia is content enough.’
‘Shall we put the boat out?’ asked Richardson.
Briggs shook his head. ‘Little point,’ he said. ‘And in this sea it would be far too easy for that spar to be driven through the hull. We’ll circle.’
The wind was still strong, so that it was a difficult manoeuvre. The stuck-up spar seemed to follow them around, rocking back and forth with the waves, like a gesturing finger. Occasionally the water broke over other debris clinging to the sail, proof that Briggs’s caution was well founded. Satisfied that no one was caught up or clinging to the wreckage they could see, Briggs continued to work the Mary Celeste in gradually widening circles.
There was no further trace of what, only a few hours before, had been a vessel as big as theirs.
After another hour, Briggs said to Richardson: ‘There’s nothing. Resume course.’
Richardson gave the order to Martens, at the helm, then came back to the captain.
‘It’s frightening,’ he said. The sail was some way off now, the spar still beckoning.
‘Yes,’ said Briggs. ‘There’ll be a lot of that in the Atlantic this winter, after the weather we’ve been meeting.’
‘Hope I’m not the one to come upon it,’ said the first mate.
The effect of the disaster was immediate. Always a quiet ship, the Mary Celeste became quieter. Beyond orders from Briggs, there was virtually no talk. Men who knew the power of the sea and who therefore had no reason to be embarrassed by their feelings, they still moved about with eyes lowered against contact, each as if his fear were different from the other man’s, a weakness to be hidden.
They only looked up to stare out at the heaving water, aware that they were many cables distant from where the unknown ship had foundered, but wondering if the same waves which had smashed a ship to oblivion could, by the same capriciousness, cast its crew into their path, to safety.
They secured lashings extra-tightly and checked the bindings of the furled sails, and the Lorensen brothers found a reason to examine the ship’s boat, ensuring that it could be easily slipped from its fenders and that the water canisters were easily to hand.
It was not until the evening, and then perhaps because the weather began to improve, that the feeling began to lift from the vessel. Briggs stood aft with Richardson, behind the helmsman, looking out at the slackening water.
‘Wonder if it will last this time?’ he said.
‘Pray to God it does,’ said the first mate. ‘The earlier improvements have been short enough lived.’
‘How’s the splintering?’
‘As far as I can see from the decking, there’s been some wood shorn off, but its finished now. There’s still no leakage.’
A wave swept the deck, fountaining up over the hatch-covers.
‘There’s no doubt about the seepage from the barrels,’ added Richardson.
‘Any way of knowing how much?’
‘Not until we can lift the covers. And even then, it wouldn’t be practical to examine every barrel.’
Reminded by Martens’s presence at the wheel, Briggs said, ‘I’m gladdened that so many are going to stay with the ship.’
Richardson nodded. ‘I wish every crew were as good,’ he said. ‘The younger of the Lorensen brothers is after making his fortune before he marries.’
‘Whatever the reason for their staying, it’s good news for us.’
‘And there won’t be the worry over the return cargo that there is with this,’ said Richardson.
‘After this crossing, I wouldn’t object to a little time in port,’ said Briggs. ‘For Sophia’s sake, particularly.’
‘May I show you something?’ said Richardson.
‘Of course.’
‘In my cabin.’
Briggs followed the first mate to his quarters, smiling as he approached at the sound of Sarah’s melodeon. Her feelings were improving along with everyone else’s.
‘I didn’t know what plans you had made,’ said Richardson, when they got into his living quarters. ‘But it’s likely that we’ll all be aboard for Christmas. I’m carving this for the baby.’
Although still roughly shaped, it was clearly a replica of the Mary Celeste. The detail around the bowsprit was perfect.
‘A souvenir of her first voyage,’ said the chief mate. The pride was very evident.
‘It’s a fine gesture, Mr Richardson,’ said Briggs. ‘I’m grateful. Mrs Briggs will be, too. I can foresee battles between the baby and Arthur when we get home.’
‘There’s still a month before Christmas,’ said Richardson. ‘There will be time to do one for him, too.’
‘It’ll not only be a reminder for the child,’ said Briggs, ‘it will be a memory for me, my first voyage as owner- captain.’
Sarah stopped playing as Briggs entered his quarters. He stopped, taking Sophia into his arms but holding her out, so that her face was opposite his.
