My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3)Russell, William Clark
General
My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3)
Russell, William Clark
Sea stories; Shipwrecks -- Fiction
When the cutter containing Mr. Colledge and the men of the _Magicienne_
had lost sight of the wreck in the sudden vapour that had boiled down
over it, the fellows, having lost their lieutenant and being without a
head, hurriedly agreed to pull dead away before the wind in the
direction of the Indiaman, not doubting that she would be lying hove-to,
and that they must strike her situation near enough to disclose the huge
loom of her amidst the fog. They missed her, and then, not knowing what
else to do, they lashed their oars into a bundle and rode to it. It was
hard upon sunset when a great shadow came surging up out of the fog
close aboard of them. It was the corvette under reefed topsails. The
cutter was within an ace of being run down. Her crew roared at the top
of their pipes, and they were heard; but a few moments later the
_Magicienne_ had melted out again upon the flying thickness. The boat,
however, had been seen, and her bearings accurately taken; and twenty
minutes later, the corvette again came surging to the spot where the
cutter lay. Scores of eyes gazed over the ship-of-war’s head and
bulwarks in a thirsty, piercing lookout. The end of a line was flung,
the boat dragged alongside, and in a few minutes all were safe on board.
Colledge related the story of the adventure to his cousin—how the
lieutenant had fallen overboard and was drowned, as he believed; how
Miss Temple and I were left upon the wreck, and were yet there. But the
blackness of a densely foggy night was now upon the sea; it was also
blowing hard, and nothing could be done till the weather cleared and the
day broke.
That nothing was done, you know. When the horizon was penetrable, keen
eyes were despatched to the mastheads; but whether it was that the light
wreck had drifted to a degree entirely out of the calculations of Sir
Edward Panton, or that his own drift during the long, black, blowing
hours misled him, no sign of us rewarded his search. For two days he
gallantly stuck to those waters, then abandoned the hunt as a hopeless
one, and proceeded on his voyage to England.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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