The Wreck of the Grosvenor, Volume 3 of 3: An account of the mutiny of the crew and the loss of the ship when trying to make the BermudasRussell, William Clark
General
The Wreck of the Grosvenor, Volume 3 of 3: An account of the mutiny of the crew and the loss of the ship when trying to make the Bermudas
It was our peculiar misfortune that of the four men on board the ship
three only should be capable; and that as one of the three men was
constantly required at the wheel, there were but two available men
to do the work. Had the steward been a sailor our difficulties would
have been considerably diminished, and I bitterly deplored my want
of judgment in allowing Fish and the Dutchman to be destroyed; for
though I would not have trusted Johnson and Stevens, yet the other two
might have been brought over to work for us, and I had no doubt that
the spectacle of the perishing wretches in the long-boat, as she was
whirled past us, would have produced as salutary an effect upon them as
it had upon Cornish; and with two extra hands of this kind we could not
only have kept the pumps going, but have made shift to sail the ship
at the same time.
The hollow thrashing sounds of the pump either found Miss Robertson
awake or aroused her, for soon after the pumping had commenced she came
on deck, swathed in the big warm overcoat and fur cap.
Such a costume for a girl must make you laugh in the description; and
yet, believe me, she lost in nothing by it. The coat dwarfed her figure
somewhat, but the fur cap looked luxurious against her fair hair,
and nothing could detract from the exquisite femininity of her face,
manner, and carriage. I speak of the impression she had made on me in
the daytime; the starlight only revealed her white face now to me.
"Is the water still coming into the ship?" she asked.
"The bo'sun has reported to me that eight inches deep have come into
her since half-past nine."
"Is that much?"
"More than we want."
"I don't like to trouble you with my questions, Mr. Royle; but I am
very, very anxious."
"Of course you are; and do not suppose that you can trouble. Ask me
what you will. I promise to tell you the truth."
"If you find that you cannot pump the water out as fast as it comes in,
what will you do?"
"Leave the ship."
"How?" she exclaimed, looking around her.
"By that quarter-boat there."
"But it would fill with water and sink in such waves as these."
"These waves are not going to last, and it is quite likely that by
this time to-morrow the sea will be calm."
"Will the ship keep afloat until to-morrow?"
"If the water does not come in more rapidly than it does at present,
the ship will keep afloat so long as we can manage to pump her out
every hour. And so," said I, laughing to encourage her, "we are not
going to die all at once, you see."
She drew quite close to me and said--
"I shall never fear death while you remain on board, Mr. Royle. You
have saved me from death once, and, though I may be wicked in daring to
prophesy, yet I feel _certain_--_certain_," she repeated, with singular
emphasis, "that you will save my life again."
"I shall try very hard, be sure of that," I answered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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