My Danish Sweetheart: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3Russell, William Clark
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My Danish Sweetheart: A Novel. Volume 1 of 3
Russell, William Clark
Adventure stories; Fiction; Love stories; Sea stories
He inquired what I made the drift to be, and then calculated that the
English coast would now be bearing about east-north-east, sixty miles
distant. 'Let the wind chop round,' cried he, with a gleam in his sunken
eye, 'and you and Helga would have the _Anine_ in the Channel before
midnight.'
We continued to talk in this strain, and he seemed to forget the
wretchedness of our situation; then suddenly he called out to know the
time, abruptly breaking away from what he was saying.
'Hard upon eleven o'clock,' said I.
'This will not do!' he cried. 'The barque, as we talk, is filling under
our feet. The well should be sounded. Helga must be called. I beseech
you to call Helga,' he repeated nervously, smiting the side of his cot
with his clenched hand. 'Ah, God!' he added, 'that I should be without
the power to move!'
'I will sound the well,' said I. 'Should I find an increase, I will
arouse your daughter.'
'Go, I beg of you!' he cried, in high notes. 'The barque seems sodden to
me. She does not lift and fall as she did.'
I guessed this to be imagination; but the mere fancy of such a thing
being true frightened me also, and I hastily went out. I dried the rod
and chalked it as Helga had, and, watching my chance, dropped it, and
found five inches of water above the level our last spell at the pump
had left in the hold. I was greatly startled, and to make sure that my
first cast was right, I sounded a second time, and sure enough the rod
showed five inches, as before. I hastened with the news to the Captain.
'I knew it! I feared it!' he cried, his voice shrill with a very ecstasy
of hurry, anxiety, and sense of helplessness that worked in him. 'Call
Helga!--lose not an instant--run, I beg you will run!'
'But run where?' cried I. 'Where does the girl sleep?'
'Go down the hatchway in the deck-house,' he shouted in shrill accents,
as though bent upon putting into this moment the whole of his remaining
slender stock of vitality. 'There are four cabins under this deck. Hers
is the aftermost one on the starboard side. Don't delay! If she does not
instantly answer, enter and arouse her.' And as I sped from the cabin I
heard him crying that he knew by the motions of the ship she was
filling rapidly, and that she would go down on a sudden like lead.
It was a black, square trap of hatchway into which I looked a moment
before putting my legs over. There was a short flight of almost
perpendicular steps conducting to the lower deck. On my descending I
found the place so dark that I was forced to halt till my eyes should
grow used to the obscurity. There was a disagreeable smell of cargo down
here, and such a heart-shaking uproar of straining timbers, of creaking
bulkheads, of the thumps of seas, and the muffled, yearning roar of the
giant waters sweeping under the vessel, that for a little while I stood
as one utterly bewildered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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