He waited. The light gradually brightened, and the horizon glowed with crimson hues. The misty curtain gradually enveloped the vast vault of the firmament. Black rocks emerged from the water. Then, a line was defined along a border of foam, and a luminous point kindled like a lighthouse at the summit of a peak against the still invisible disk of the rising sun.
“Land!” cried Captain Mangles.
His companions, awakened by his voice, rushed on deck, and gazed in silence at the coast that was seen on the horizon. Whether hospitable or fatal, it was to be their place of refuge.
“Where is that Halley?” asked Glenarvan.
“I do not know, my lord,” replied Captain Mangles.
“And his sailors?”
“Disappeared, like himself.”
“And like himself, doubtless, drunk,” added MacNabb.
“Let us search for them,” said Glenarvan; “we cannot abandon them on this vessel.”
Mulready and Wilson went down to the bunks in the forecastle. The place was empty. They then visited between-decks, and the hold, but found neither Halley nor his sailors.
“What! nobody?” said Glenarvan.
“Have they fallen into the sea?” asked Paganel.
“Anything is possible,” replied Captain Mangles, who cared little for their disappearance.
Then, turning towards the stern, he said—
“To the boat!”
Wilson and Mulready followed, to assist in lowering it.
The yawl was gone!
XLVI
Vain Efforts
Will Halley and his crew, taking advantage of the night and the passengers’ sleep, had fled with the only boat left. They could not doubt it. This captain, who was in duty bound to be the last on board, had been the first to leave.
“The rascals have fled,” said Captain Mangles. “Well, so much the better, my lord. We are spared so many disagreeable scenes.”
“I agree with you,” replied Glenarvan. “Besides, there is a better captain on board, yourself, and courageous seamen, your companions. Command us; we are ready to obey you.”
All endorsed Glenarvan’s words, and, ranged along the deck, they stood ready for the young captain’s orders.
“What is to be done?” asked Glenarvan.
John cast a glance over the ocean, looked at the shattered masts of the brig, and, after a few moments’ reflection, said:
“We have two ways, my lord, of extricating ourselves from this situation: either to raise the vessel and put her to sea, or reach the coast on a raft, which can be easily constructed.”
“If the vessel can be raised, let us raise it,” replied Glenarvan. “That is the best plan, is it not?”
“Yes, my lord; for, once ashore, what would become of us without means of transport?”
“Let us avoid the coast,” added Paganel. “We must beware of New Zealand.”
“All the more so, as we have gone considerably astray,” continued Captain Mangles. “Halley’s carelessness has carried us to the south, that is evident. At noon I will take an observation; and if, as I presume, we are below Auckland, I will try to sail the Macquarie up along the coast.”
“But the injuries of the brig?” inquired Lady Helena.
“I do not think they are serious, madam,” replied Captain Mangles. “I shall rig a jurymast at the bows; and we shall sail slowly, it is true, but still we shall go where we wish. If, unfortunately, the hull is stove in, or if the ship cannot be extricated, we must gain the coast, and travel by land to Auckland.”
“Let us examine the state of the vessel, then,” said the major. “This is of the first importance.”
Glenarvan, the captain, and Mulready opened the main scuttle, and went down into the hold. About two hundred tons of tanned hides were there, very badly stowed away; but they could draw them aside without much difficulty, by means of the mainstay tackling, and they at once threw overboard part of this ballast so as to lighten the ship.
After three hours of hard labor, they could see the bottom timbers. Two seams in the larboard planking had sprung open as far up as the channel wales. As the Macquarie lay over on her starboard beams, her opposite side was raised, and the defective seams were out of water. Wilson hastened, therefore, to tighten the joints with oakum, over which he carefully nailed a copper plate. On sounding they found less than two feet of water in the hold, which the pumps could easily exhaust, and thus relieve the ship. After his examination of the hull, the captain perceived that it had been little injured in stranding. It was probable that a part of the false keel would remain in the sand, but they could pass over it.
Wilson, after inspecting the interior of the brig, dived, in order to determine her position on the reef. The Macquarie was turned towards the northwest, and lay on a very shelving, slimy sandbar. The lower end of her prow and two-thirds of her keel were deeply imbedded in the sand. The rest, as far as the stern, floated where the water was five fathoms deep. The rudder was not, therefore, confined, but worked freely. The captain considered it useless to lighten her, as he hoped they would be ready to make use of her at the earliest opportunity. The tides of the Pacific are not very strong, but he relied upon their influence to float the brig, which had stranded an hour before high water. The only point was to extricate her, which would be a long and painful task.
“To work!” cried the captain.
His improvised sailors were ready. He ordered them to reef the sails. The major, Robert, and Paganel, under Wilson’s direction, climbed the maintop. The topsail, swelled by the wind, would have prevented the extrication of the ship, and it was necessary to reef it, which was done as well as possible. At last, after much labor, severe to unaccustomed hands, the maintop-gallant was taken down. Young Robert, nimble as a cat, and bold as a cabin-boy, had rendered important services in this difficult operation.
It was now advisable to cast one anchor, perhaps two, at the stern of the vessel in the line of the keel. The effect of this would be
