Selected Stories (72 page)

‘“Reason why,” said Bell. “It's a fortune gaun beggin'. What d'ye think, man?”

‘“Gie her till daylight. She knows we're here. If Bannister needs help he'll loose a rocket.”

‘“Wha told ye Bannister's need? We'll ha' some rag-an'-bone tramp snappin' her up under oor nose,” said he; an' he put the wheel over. We were gaun slow.

‘“Bannister wad like better to go home on a liner an' eat in the saloon. Mind ye what they said o' Holdock and Steiner's food that night at Radley's? Keep her awa', man – keep her awa'. A tow's a tow, but a derelict's big salvage.”

‘“E-eh!” said Bell. “Yon's an inshot o' yours, Mac. I love ye like a brother. We'll bide whaur we are till daylight”; an' he kept her awa'.

‘Syne up went a rocket forward, an' twa on the bridge, an' a blue light aft. Syne a tar-barrel forward again.

‘“She's sinkin',” said Bell. “It's all gaun, an' I'll get no more than a pair o' night-glasses for pickin' up young Bannister – the fool!”

‘“Fair an' soft again,” I said. “She's signallin' to the south of us. Bannister knows as well as I that one rocket would bring the
Kite
. He'll no be wastin' fireworks for nothin'. Hear her ca'!”

‘The
Grotkau
whustled an' whustled for five minutes, an' then there were more fireworks – a regular exhibeetion.

‘“That's no for men in the regular trade,” says Bell. “Ye're right, Mac. That's for a cuddy full o' passengers.” He blinked through the night-glasses when it lay a bit thick to southward.

‘“What d'ye make of it?” I said.

‘“Liner,” he says. “Yon's her rocket. Ou, ay; they've waukened the gold-strapped skipper, an' – noo they've waukened the passengers. They're turnin' on the electrics, cabin by cabin. Yon's another rocket! They're comin' up to help the perishin' in deep watters.”

‘“Gie me the glass,” I said. But Bell danced on the bridge, clean dementit. “Mails – mails – mails!” said he. “Under contract wi' the Government for the due conveyance o' the mails; an' as such, Mac, ye'll note, she may rescue life at sea, but she canna tow! – she canna tow! Yon's her night-signal. She'll be up in half an hour!”

‘“Gowk!”
¹⁹
I said, “an' we blazin' here wi' all oor lights. Oh, Bell, but ye're a fool.”

‘He tumbled off the bridge forward, an' I tumbled aft, an' before ye could wink our lights were oot, the engine-room hatch was covered, an' we lay pitch-dark, watchin' the lights o' the liner come up that the
Grotkau'd
been signallin' for. Twenty knot an hour she came, every cabin lighted, an' her boats swung awa'. It was grandly done, an' in the inside of an hour. She stopped like Mrs Holdock's machine; down went the gangway, down went the boats, an' in ten minutes we heard the passengers cheerin', an' awa' she fled.

‘“They'll tell o' this all the days they live,” said Bell. “A rescue at sea by night, as pretty as a play. Young Bannister an' Calder will be drinkin' in the saloon, an' six months hence the Board o' Trade 'll gie the skipper a pair o' binoculars. It's vara philanthropic all round.'

‘We lay by till day – ye may think we waited for it wi' sore eyes – an' there sat the
Grotkau
, her nose a bit cocked, just leerin' at us. She looked pairfectly rideeculous.

‘“She'll be fillin' aft,” says Bell; “for why is she down by the stern? The tail-shaft's punched a hole in her, an' – we've no boats. There's three hunder thousand pound sterlin', at a conservative estimate, droonin' before our eyes. What's to do?” An' his bearin's got hot again in a minute; for he was an incontinent man.

‘“Run her as near as ye daur,” I said. “Gie me a jacket an' a life-line, an' I'll swum for it.” There was a bit lump of a sea, an' it was cold in the wind – vara cold; but they'd gone overside like passengers, young Bannister an' Calder an' a', leaving the gangway down on the lee-side. It would ha' been a flyin' in the face o' manifest Providence to overlook the invitation. We were within fifty yards o' her while Kinloch was garmin' me all over wi' oil behind the galley; an' as we ran past I went outboard for the salvage o' three hunder thousand pound. Man, it was perishin' cold, but I'd done my job judgmatically, an' came scrapin' all
along her side slap on the lower gratin' o' the gangway. No one more astonished than me, I assure ye. Before I'd caught my breath I'd skinned both my knees on the gratin', an' was climbing up before she rolled again. I made my line fast to the rail, an' squattered aft to young Bannister's cabin, whaur I dried me wi' everything in his bunk, an' put on every conceivable sort o' rig I found till the blood was circulatin'. Three pair drawers, I mind I found – to begin upon – an' I needed them all. It was the coldest cold I remember in all my experience.

‘Syne I went aft to the engine-room. The
Grotkau
sat on her own tail, as they say. She was vara short-shafted, an' her gear was all aft. There was four or five foot o' water in the engine-room slummockin' to and fro, black an' greasy; maybe there was six foot. The stoke-hold doors were screwed home, an' the stoke-hold was tight enough, but for a minute the mess in the engine-room deceived me. Only for a minute, though, an' that was because I was not, in a manner o' speakin', as calm as ordinar'. I looked again to mak' sure. 'Twas just black wi' bilge: dead watter that must ha' come in fortuitously, ye ken.'

‘McPhee, I'm only a passenger,' I said, ‘but you don't persuade me that six foot o' water can come into an engine-room fortuitously.'

‘Who's tryin' to persuade one way or the other?' McPhee retorted. ‘I'm statin' the facts o' the case – the simple, natural facts. Six or seven foot o' dead watter in the engine-room is a vara depressin' sight if ye think there's like to be more comin'; but I did not consider that such was likely, and so, ye'll note, I was not depressed.'

‘That's all very well, but I want to know about the water,' I said.

‘I've told ye. There was six feet or more there, wi' Calder's cap floatin' on top.'

‘Where did it come from?'

‘Weel, in the confusion o' things after the propeller had dropped off an' the engines were racin' an' a', it's vara possible that Calder might ha' lost it off his head an' no troubled himself to pick it up again. I remember seein' that cap on him at Southampton.'

‘I don't want to know about the cap. I'm asking where the water came from, and what it was doing there, and why you were so certain that it wasn't a leak, McPhee?'

‘For good reason – for good an' sufficient reason.'

‘Give it to me, then.'

‘Weel, it's a reason that does not properly concern myself only. To be preceese, I'm of opinion that it was due, the watter, in part to an error o' judgment in another man. We can a' mak' mistakes.'

‘Oh, I beg your pardon! Go on.'

‘I got me to the rail again, an', “What's wrang?” said Bell, hailin'.

‘“She'll do,” I said. “Send's o'er a hawser, an' a man to help steer. I'll pull him in by the life-line.”

‘I could see heads bobbin' back an' forth, an' a whuff or two o' strong words. Then Bell said: “They'll not trust themselves – one of 'em – in this watter – except Kinloch, an' I'll no spare him.”

‘“The more salvage to me, then,” I said. “I'll make shift
solo
.”

‘Says one dock-rat at this: “D'ye think she's safe?”

“‘I'll guarantee ye nothing,” I said, “except, maybe, a hammerin' for keepin' me this long.”

‘Then he sings out: “There's no more than one life-belt, an' they canna find it, or I'd come.”

‘“Throw him over, the Jezebel,” I said, for I was oot o' patience; an' they took haud o' that volunteer before he knew what was in store, and hove him over in the bight of the life-line. So I e'en hauled him upon the sag of it, hand-over-fist – a vara welcome recruit when I'd tilted the salt watter out of him; for, by the way, he could not swum.

‘Syne they bent a twa-inch rope to the life-line, an' a hawser to that, an' I led the rope o'er the drum of a hand-winch forward, an' we sweated the hawser inboard an' made it fast to the
Grotkau's
bitts.
²⁰

‘Bell brought the
Kite
so close I feared she'd roll in an' do the
Grotkau's
plates a mischief. He hove anither life-line to me, an' went astern, an' we had all the weary winch-work to do again wi' a second hawser. For all that, Bell was right: we'd a long tow before us, an' though Providence had helped us that far, there was no sense in leavin' too much to its keepin'. When the second hawser was fast, I was wet wi' sweat, an' I cried Bell to tak' up his slack an' go home. The other man was by way o' helpin' the work wi' askin' for drinks, but I e'en told him he must hand reef an' steer, beginnin' with steerin', for I was goin' to turn in. He steered – ou, ay, he steered, in a manner o' speakin'. At the least, he grippit the spokes an' twiddled 'em an' looked wise, but I doubt if the
Hoor
ever felt it. I turned in there an' then to young Bannister's bunk, an' slept past expression. I waukened ragin' wi' hunger, a fair lump o' sea runnin', the
Kite
snorin' awa' four knots an hour; an' the
Grotkau
slappin' her nose under, an' yawin' an' standin' over at discretion. She was a most disgracefu' tow. But the shameful thing of all was the food. I raxed me a meal fra galley-shelves an' pantries an' lazareetes
²¹
an' cubby-holes that I would not ha' gied to the mate of a Cardiff collier; an' ye ken we say a Cardiff mate will eat clinkers to save waste. I'm sayin' it was simply vile! The crew had written what
they
thought of it on the new paint o' the fo'c'sle, but I had not a decent soul wi' me to
complain on. There was nothin' for me to do save watch the hawsers an' the
Kite's
tail squatterin' down in white watter when she lifted to a sea; so I got steam on the after donkey-pump, an' pumped oot the engine-room. There's no sense in leavin' watter loose in a ship. When she was dry, I went doun the shaft-tunnel, an' found she was leakin' a little through the stuffin'-box, but nothin' to make wark. The propeller had e'en jarred off, as I knew it must, an' Calder had been waitin' for it to go wi' his hand on the gear. He told me as much when I met him ashore. There was nothin' started or strained. It had just slipped awa' to the bed o' the Atlantic as easy as a man dyin' wi' due warnin' – a most providential business for all concerned. Syne I took stock o' the
Grotkau's
upper works. Her boats had been smashed on the davits, an' here an' there was the rail missin', an' a ventilator or two had fetched awa', an' the bridge-rails were bent by the seas; but her hatches were tight, and she'd taken no sort of harm. Dod, I came to hate her like a human bein', for I was eight weary days aboard, starvin' – ay, starvin' – within a cable's length o' plenty. All day I lay in the bunk reading the
Woman-Hater
, the grandest book Charlie Reade ever wrote, an' pickin' a toothful here an' there. It was weary weary work. Eight days, man, I was aboard the
Grotkau
, an' not one full meal did I make. Sma' blame her crew would not stay by her. The other man? Oh, I warked him to keep him crack.
²²
I warked him wi' a vengeance.

‘It came on to blow when we fetched soundin's, an' that kept me standin' by the hawsers, lashed to the capstan, breathin' betwixt green seas. I near died o' cauld an' hunger, for the
Grotkau
towed like a barge, an' Bell howkit her along through or over. It was vara thick up-Channel, too. We were standin' in to make some sort o' light, and we near walked over twa three fishin'-boats, an' they cried us we were o'erclose to Falmouth. Then we were near cut down by a drunken foreign fruiter that was blunderin' between us an' the shore, and it got thicker and thicker that night, an' I could feel by the tow Bell did not know whaur he was. Losh, we knew in the morn, for the wind blew the fog oot like a candle, an' the sun came clear; and as surely as McRimmon gied me my cheque, the shadow o' the Eddystone
²³
lay across our tow-rope! We were that near – ay, we were that near! Bell fetched the
Kite
round with the jerk that came close to tearin' the bitts out o' the
Grotkau;
an' I mind I thanked my Maker in young Bannister's cabin when we were inside Plymouth breakwater.

‘The first to come aboard was McRimmon, wi' Dandie. Did I tell you our orders were to take anything found into Plymouth? The auld deil had just come down overnight, puttin' two an' two together from what
Calder had told him when the liner landed the
Grotkau's
men. He had preceesely hit oor time. I'd hailed Bell for something to eat, an' he sent it o'er in the same boat wi' McRimmon, when the auld man came to me. He grinned an' slapped his legs and worked his eyebrows the while I ate.

“‘How do Holdock, Steiner, and Chase feed their men?” said he.

‘“Ye can see,” I said, knockin' the top off another beer-bottle. “I did not take to be starved, McRimmon.”

‘“Nor to swim, either,” said he, for Bell had tauld him how I carried the line aboard. “Well, I'm thinkin' you'll be no loser. What freight could we ha' put into the
Lammergeyer
would equal salvage on four hunder thousand pounds – hull and cargo? Eh, McPhee? This cuts the liver out o' Holdock, Steiner, Chase, and Company, Limited. Eh, McPhee? An' I'm sufferin' from senile dementia now? Eh, McPhee? An' I'm not daft, am I, till I begin to paint the
Lammergeyer
? Eh, McPhee? Ye may weel lift your leg, Dandie! I ha' the laugh o' them all. Ye found watter in the engine-room?”