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We started with the two gigs, which were slung to the davits, one on either quarter. It did not take us long to get the covers off these and to give them and their gear a careful overhaul. By the time this was done, the provisions were beginning to come up on deck, and we soon had both gigs stowed and ready for lowering. Then came the two cutters. We stripped and overhauled these, and swung them outboard, ready for lowering, before replacing their gear or stowing their provisions. By the time this was done, much of the wreckage had been cleared away, and it was possible to get up mast and yard tackles to hoist out the jollyboat and the longboat. Meanwhile, the passengers, at the skipper’s earnest persuasion, had retired to their cabins, properly dressed themselves, and were busily engaged in putting together a few of their most valued possessions, upon the off-chance of finding room for them in the boats.

The dawn was showing when I had finished my job and reported progress. The carpenter had left a moment earlier, and I judged, not only from the serious look on Chips’ face, but also from the posture of the ship herself, that the hours of the Andromeda were numbered.

We were ready to quit at practically a moment’s notice, while the ship promised to remain afloat for at least a couple of hours longer, the captain therefore gave orders for a good substantial breakfast to be prepared for all hands, to which we shortly afterwards did justice.

It was about nine o’clock in the morning when the word was passed for all hands to muster on deck, and a couple of minutes later saw the order obeyed, the passengers assembling on the poop, while the crew gathered in the waist. Then, all being present, the skipper stepped out and took up a position at the head of the port poop ladder where he could be seen and heard by all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and you officers and men forming the crew of the Andromeda,” he said, “you will hardly need any words of mine to tell you that the hours—indeed, might almost say the moments—of this good ship are numbered. So far as it is possible for me to judge, she will continue to float for about another hour; but since, for the preservation of our lives, it is necessary to abandon her, and since the weather is just now as favourable as it is at all likely to be for the operation of taking to the boats, I have decided to carry out that operation forthwith, that it may be done without hurry or confusion.

“As you have no doubt noticed, the boats are safely afloat; there will therefore be room for everybody, and also for a very small quantity of personal baggage.

“The longboat, with a complement of twenty, all told, including twelve passengers, will be under my command. The first and second cutters, with a complement of fourteen each, will be commanded respectively by the chief and second mates. The jollyboat, with a complement of eight will be commanded by Mr Massey, the senior apprentice; and, finally, the two gigs, each with a complement of five, will be commanded by Mr Annesley and Mr Duncan, the two apprentices next in seniority. I have here in my hand a carefully prepared list giving the names of the crew and passengers to go in each boat, and, as I call them out, those names will be pleased to pass down into the boat designated.

“Before we go, however, I wish to tell you what my plans are—plans made after careful consideration and consultation with my first and second officers. The nearest inhabited land is some eight hundred miles distant, but it lies dead to windward; it is therefore useless to think of making our way thither. The next nearest is the Union group, practically a thousand miles away. This group is under British control, and it has the advantage of lying due south of us, so that, the prevailing winds being from the eastward, we ought to be able to fetch it under sail. Allowing the boats an average speed of four knots—and there will doubtless be frequent occasions when they will do more—we ought to accomplish the run in ten days. This, I know, is a long time for delicately nurtured women and children to look forward to being cooped up in open boats, but I am afraid it cannot be helped; we men will do everything we can to make it easy for them, and they must steel themselves to the ordeal.

“But—and I have kept this to the last—such a long sojourn in the boats may not be necessary. For, on our passage toward the Union group of islands, we shall cross the track of one of our own steamers—the Paramatta—bound from Suva to Honolulu. She is due to reach the point where we shall cross her track, seven days hence, and I am sanguine in the belief that, with favourable weather and winds, we can arrive at that point in time to intercept her and be picked up.” (There was a little murmur of gratification from the passengers at this cheering news, and the skipper bowed and smiled encouragingly. He resumed.)

“I have only one thing to add, and that is, each boat is to regard herself as a separate and independent unit, and is to make her way to the spot named in the shortest possible time, and there await the coming of the Paramatta or the other boats. That is all I have to say, ladies and gentlemen, except that I pray God to take us all under His especial care and guidance and to grant us a spell of favourable weather.

“And now to get away in the boats as quickly as possible.”

* * *

* * *

Chapter Two: Becalmed in the Jollyboat.

With our sail set, and the boat heading to the southward in the wake of the two gigs, I now had leisure to take a hasty glance at the good ship which had, first and last, borne me safely over many a thousand leagues of ocean, and was now hastening to her last berth in the Pacific ooze.

“So ends Chapter One. What, think you, is to be the end of Chapter Two, Massey?” remarked Mr Oldroyd, one of two passengers who had left America to hunt kangaroos.

“If all goes well I hope it will end in our all being picked up by the Paramatta, this day week,” I said.

“If all goes well! Is there any reason why all should not go well?” asked Doctor Shirley-Winthrop, another American who, with his daughter, was in my boat.

“No,” I answered, “no particular reason; certainly not. But, of course, our position out here in an open boat, a thousand miles from the nearest land we can hope to reach, is precarious. So long as the weather holds, there will be little for us to trouble about. We have as much wind as we want, and no more, and it is blowing from the right quarter; moreover the sea is going down. If these conditions continue for the next seven days, we may hope to fall in with the Paramatta, and be picked up.

“But although under such conditions, practically the worst that we may expect is seven days’ exposure in an open boat, I am very glad you have asked that question, Doctor, because, as I said just now, our position is precarious. It depends upon the weather, than which, I suppose, there is nothing more uncertain. For example, we are heading to the south’ard, and are not more than about five degrees from the Line. Now, this breeze may hold until we reach the equator; but, on the other hand, it may not. I have known the equatorial calms to set in almost as far north as this, and if they should come to us early, our progress will be retarded, and our chances of falling in with the Paramatta reduced. I want you all to bear these facts in mind, so that, should matters not go with us precisely as we wish, you may not be unduly disappointed.”

“Y–e–s, I understand,” remarked the Doctor slowly. “You mean we must not be too cocksure that everything is going to pan out just right?”

“Precisely,” I said. “What I mean is very exactly expressed by our old English adage—‘Hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst’.”

“Is there any sign of a change of weather?” asked the Doctor.

I took a look to windward, and all round the horizon. The sky overhead was a clear, rich ultramarine blue, paling away toward the horizon into a soft, warm grey against which the deep, sapphire blue of the sea ruled sharply in an unbroken circle, save where the tiny sails of the boats dotted it here and there. Solemn-moving trade clouds, like tufts of cotton-wool, came sailing slowly up out of the eastward, passing overhead, and vanishing beneath the western horizon, but nowhere, I was thankful to say, could I see any sign of change. True, the strength of the wind had moderated since our collision with the derelict, but that was all to the good, for the sea was moderating too, while we had just enough wind to enable us to show whole canvas to it comfortably. The two gigs were slipping away from us rapidly; they were smart boats, fast, whether under oars or sails, it was ideal weather for them, and they were only carrying five people each. We—the jollyboat—on the contrary were a sort of miniature longboat, built to carry, rather than for speed, yet in certain trim—which happened to be precisely our present trim—the little hooker had the knack of slipping along in a surprising manner. The two cutters, nearly as powerful as the jollyboat, and also built in a measure for speed, ought by good rights to be coming up with us, hand over hand, yet we were handsomely holding our own with them, if not actually creeping slowly away from them. As for the longboat, she was a slow coach; but if the breeze should freshen, she would be able to give an excellent account of herself.

“No,” I answered the Doctor, “there is no sign of a change, so we must just hope for the best, and be as considerate for each other as we can.”

There was just one drawback. The jollyboat had been stored, bottom-up, in the longboat for some time, her planking had become dry, and had shrunk, opening her seams, consequently she leaked like a basket, when she was first put into the water, necessitating the constant employment of one man as a baler; but as the hours went on she gradually “took up”, and matters became less unpleasant.

Meanwhile, I was busy thinking. Here we were, eight of us, in an open boat some thirty feet long by seven-and-a-half feet beam, and two of our number were young women. We were booked for seven days, at least, under these conditions, and, if nothing were done to remedy it, the complete lack of privacy would be horribly unpleasant for the two girls, to say nothing of the fact that there was absolutely no shelter for them in the event of bad weather. I called Wilkinson, the able seaman, aft, and turned the boat over to him, while Mr Mason, at my request, took a turn at baling to release Dartnell, the ordinary seaman. Then Dartnell and I, going for’ard, re-arranged the storage of the boat, clearing away the whole of the space forward of the mast. This space I covered in with the boat’s canvas coat, making a sort of tiny forecastle of it, the interior of which I arranged with rugs and spare coats so as to convert it into a small sleeping apartment screened off from the rest of the boat. The result was not unsatisfactory; and I called the stewardess forward and showed her what I had done. She was thoroughly appreciative and intensely grateful, and shortly afterward I saw her obviously explaining matters to Miss Shirley-Winthrop. Then the two went for’ard together and disappeared, presumably re-arranging matters to their own liking. The result was that they were able to pass the night in privacy and some measure of comfort; but not a word of thanks or appreciation would Miss Shirley-Winthrop condescend to utter. Apparently, she regarded everything that was done for her as only what she was entitled to.

This, however, did not trouble me; I was not out to court her favour, and the feeling that I had done the best I could for her and my other female passenger was all the satisfaction I needed. Besides, I had things of more importance than the moods and humours of a spoilt young woman to think about, and the weather was one of them. As the day wore on the wind was dropping, and I feared a calm almost as much as I did a gale. When we abandoned the wreck the breeze was fresh enough to carry the boat almost gunwale-to, and there had been occasions when it was necessary to ease off the sheet to keep the water from lapping in over the lee gunwale, but these occasions had been growing steadily less frequent until by about two o’clock in the afternoon they had ceased, and by four o’clock the boat was sailing almost upright and our speed had dwindled to about three knots. The gigs, however, were making good headway, the leading gig having run out of sight, while the one next ahead of us was only to be seen occasionally, when we both happened to lift on the back of a swell at the same moment. In like manner we had gradually drawn away from the cutters, the nearest of which was by this time quite three miles astern of us, while the longboat was hull-down.

The aspect of the sky, too, was undergoing a subtle change. The blue of the zenith was no longer so clear and clean as it had been during the morning; it had lost much of its rich colour and had become quite of a pallid turquoise tint, indicating that it was being gradually overspread by a gathering haze, while the little tufts of trade clouds had noticeably diminished in number, were slower in their movements, and seemed to come to a pause on the western horizon and merge into a steadily-growing bank of vapour which had begun to form there. The result of this was a gorgeous sunset that evoked the admiration of my five passengers, although there was far too much fire and smoke in its composition to please me.

The wind was now dropping in so pronounced a fashion that there could no longer be doubt as to the spell of calm which I dreaded so much. Nevertheless, we carried on until close upon ten o’clock, by which time the sail was rustling and flapping to the mast with every motion of the boat, while the sheet hung slack amidships, and the boat no longer answered her helm. Then, reluctant though I was to do so, I had to order the dowsing of the sail and a resort to the oars; for if we were to intercept the Paramatta we must keep moving. There was no margin of time allowing us to lie idle until another breeze should spring up.

There were five of us in the jollyboat capable of handling an oar, namely, Messrs. Oldroyd and Mason, passengers, the two seamen and myself (Dr. Shirley-Winthrop confessed that he had never handled an oar in his life, but was willing to learn). But, of those five, it was necessary that one should always be steering, while it was obvious that none of us could work an oar for any length of time without rest. I therefore arranged that two should pull and one steer, turn and turn about, in spells of two hours, Wilkinson, the A.B. and I taking the first spell, while Dartnell steered; then Oldroyd and Mason were to come on for two hours while the Doctor steered, and so on, ringing the changes in such a fashion that each of us who could handle an oar pulled for two hours at a stretch, and then, after a spell of rest, took a two hours’ turn at the tiller.

It was weary, back-breaking work, pulling a heavy boat like the jollyboat with only one pair of oars, especially at the start when, although the wind had dropped, the sea was still “lumpy” and “sloppy”. We managed to get on, however, after a fashion, doing an average of a trifle under two knots per hour. But I was greatly surprised and much puzzled, when sunrise came and revealed a clear horizon. Not one of the boats was in sight! The disappearance of the gigs I could easily account for; they were light boats, pulled easily, and would draw away from the rest of us like smoke as soon as it came to a question of taking to the oars. But where were the cutters and the longboat? Certainly not ahead of us. We had pulled industriously all through the night, without cessation; and assuming that they had done the same I could not conceive how it would be possible for them to overhaul us and pass out of sight ahead. And still assuming that they, like ourselves, had kept their oars going all night, I found it equally difficult to understand how we could have run them out of sight. I sent Dartnell, the lightest man amongst us, up to the boat’s mast-head to take a look round, and he remained there a long five minutes, searching the entire horizon, but without success. Exceedingly improbable though it seemed, I at length came to the conclusion that the cutters and the longboat must be out of sight astern of us, and the idea came to me that perhaps it would be well to spare my crew a little by waiting for the laggards to overtake us and rejoin; but upon going over my previous calculations I found that we really dared not do it; we had not a minute to spare if we would intercept the Paramatta: and reluctantly I gave the word to “carry on” with the oars.