Mr Bell took off, in the dingy, a fair proportion to the boats. The
people in them begged him to remain, telling him that the ship might
suddenly go down, and that he would be lost; but he replied that he
would not desert her and the people, and he instantly returned.
The day passed away without a sail appearing in sight; and darkness,
with its attendant horrors, again drew on. Dreadful, indeed, was that
night; but it was very different to the last. There was then excitement
and activity. Now there was a calmness--at times almost a total
silence; but it would speedily be broken by the groans of the dying, and
the wails of those who mourned for them.
All attempts to stop the progress of the fire were abandoned as useless.
The officers and crew who remained faithful to their trust, took such
rest watch and watch, as the state of the case would allow; but we were
wet through, and our bed was the hard deck.
Somewhere towards the morning, as I was still asleep, I felt my shoulder
touched, and the voice of Flint whispered in my ear, "Peter, my lad,
rouse up, and come with us. The ship won't much longer give us any
footing; and it's as well to leave her when we can."
"What do you mean, Flint?" I asked, in the same low tone. "You would
not have me quit my shipmates?"
"What I mean is, that some thirty of us--some of the crew and some
emigrants--have resolved to trust ourselves to a raft, rather than to
these burning planks; and that, if we wait till daylight, so many will
be attempting to get on it, that we shall be all lost together. I don't
ask you to desert your shipmates, Peter; but self-preservation, you
know, is the first law of nature."
I considered a moment before I spoke. "I am grateful to you, Flint, for
your kindness; but I cannot desert Mr Bell," I replied. "I don't blame
you, remember, for going; but I am differently situated. I am in the
second mate's watch--under his command, as it were; and while he sticks
to the ship, so must I."
While I was speaking, I saw a party of people cautiously engaged in
launching the raft. After no slight exertions, they succeeded in
getting into the water, though the noise they made disturbed a number of
the emigrants.
"I understand your motive, my lad, and I suppose you are right," replied
Flint. "I wish you could come with us; and I am half inclined to stay
by you--that I am."
"I should be very unhappy if you were the sufferer in consequence of so
doing," I answered; "so pray go, if you think the raft affords the
greatest safety."
"No, lad, I care little for my own safety; but I promised these people
to go with them, and to act as their captain. I did so, thinking you
would be certain to go too."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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