The only treasures we got were some long things, like thin ropes, which
hung from the roof to the floor of the cave we were in. This cave wasn't
dark, because nearly all of one side of it was open. These ropes were
roots or young trunks from banyan-trees, growing on the ground above,
and which came through the cracks in the rocks, and stretched themselves
down so as to root in the floor of the cave, and make a lot of
underground trunks for the tree above. The banyan-tree is the most
enterprising trunk-maker I ever heard of.

We pulled down a lot of these banyan ropes, some of them more than
twenty feet long, to take away as curiosities. Corny thought it would
be splendid to have a jumping-rope made of a banyan root, or rather
trunklet. The banyans here are called wild fig-trees, which they really
are, wherever they grow. There is a big one, not far from the town,
which stands by itself, and has a lot of trunks coming down from the
branches. It would take the conceit out of a hurricane, I think, if it
tried to blow down a banyan-tree.

The next day was Sunday, and our party went to a negro church to hear a
preacher who was quite celebrated as a colored orator. He preached a
good sensible sermon, although he didn't meddle much with grammar. The
people were poorly dressed, and some of the deacons were barefooted, but
they were all very clean and neat, and they appeared to be just as
religious as if they had all ridden in carriages to some Fifth Avenue
church in New York.




CHAPTER XVIII.

I WAKE UP MR. CHIPPERTON.


About nine o'clock, on Monday morning, the "Tigris" came in. When we
boarded her, which we did almost as soon as the stairs had been put down
her side, we found that she would make a shorter stay than usual, and
would go out that evening, at high tide. So there was no time to lose.
After the letters had been delivered at the hotel, and we had read ours,
we sent our trunks on board, and went around to finish up Nassau. We
rowed over to Hog Island, opposite the town, to see, once more, the surf
roll up against the high, jagged rocks; we ran down among the negro
cottages and the negro cabins to get some fruit for the trip; and we
rushed about to bid good-bye to some of our old friends--Poqua-dilla
among them. Corny went with us, this time. Every darkey knew we were
going away, and it was amazing to see how many of them came to bid us
good-bye, and ask for some coppers.

After supper, we went on board the steamer, and about ten o'clock she
cast loose, and as she slowly moved away, we heard the old familiar
words:

"Give us a small dive, boss!"

They came from a crowd of darkey boys on the wharf. But, although the
moon was shining brightly, we didn't think they could see coppers on the
bottom that night. They might have found a shilling or a half-dollar,
but we didn't try them.

There were a couple of English officers on board, from the barracks, and
we thought that they were going to take a trip to the United States; but
the purser told us that they had no idea of doing that themselves, but
were trying to prevent one of the "red-coats," as the common soldiers
were generally called, from leaving the island. He had been missed at
the barracks, and it was supposed that he was stowed away somewhere on
the vessel. The steamer had delayed starting for half an hour, so that
search might be made for the deserter, but she couldn't wait any longer
if she wanted to get over the bar that night, and so the lieutenants, or
sergeants, or whatever they were, had to go along, and come back in the
pilot-boat.

When we got outside we lay to, with the pilot-boat alongside of us, and
the hold of the vessel was ransacked for the deserter. Corny openly
declared that she hoped they wouldn't find him, and I'm sure I had a
pretty strong feeling that way myself. But they did find him. He was
pulled out from behind some barrels, in a dark place in the hold, and
hurried up on deck. We saw him, as he was forced over the side of the
vessel and almost dropped into the pilot-boat, which was rising and
falling on the waves by the side of the ship. Then the officers
scrambled down the side and jumped into the boat. The line was cast off,
the negro oarsmen began to pull away, and the poor red-coat took his
doleful journey back to Nassau. He must have felt pretty badly about it.
I have no doubt that when he hid himself down there in that dark hold,
just before the vessel started, he thought he had made a pretty sure
thing of it, and that it would not be long before he would be a free
man, and could go where he pleased and do what he pleased in the wide
United States. But the case was very different now. I suppose it was
wrong, of course, for him to desert, and probably he was a mean sort of
a fellow to do it; but we were all very sorry to see him taken away.
Corny thought that he was very likely a good man, who had been imposed
upon, and that, therefore, it was right to run away. It was quite
natural for a girl to think that.

The moment the pilot-boat left us, the "Tigris" started off in good
earnest, and went steaming along on her course. And it was not long
before we started off, also in good earnest, for our berths. We were a
tired set.

The trip back was not so pleasant as our other little voyage, when we
were coming to the Bahamas. The next day was cloudy, and the sea was
rough and choppy. The air was mild enough for us to be on deck, but
there was a high wind which made it uncomfortable. Rectus thought he
could keep on his wide straw hat, but he soon found out his mistake, and
had to get out his Scotch cap, which made him look like a very different
fellow.

There were not very many passengers on board, as it was scarcely time
for the majority of people to leave Nassau. They generally stay until
April, I think. Besides our party of five, there were several gentlemen
and ladies from the hotel; and as we knew them all tolerably well, we
had a much more sociable time than when we came over. Still, for my
part, I should have preferred fair weather, bright skies, and plenty of
nautiluses and flying-fish.

The "yellow-legged" party remained at Nassau. I was a little sorry for
this, too, as I liked the men pretty well, now that I knew them better.
They certainly were good walkers.

Toward noon the wind began to blow harder, and the waves ran very high.
The "Tigris" rolled from side to side as if she would go over, and some
of the ladies were a good deal frightened; but she always came up again,
all right, no matter how far over she dipped, and so in time they got
used to it. I proved to Mrs. Chipperton that it would be impossible for
the vessel to upset, as the great weight of ballast, freight, machinery,
etc., in the lower part of her would always bring her deck up again,
even if she rolled entirely over on her side, which, sometimes, she
seemed as if she was going to do, but she always changed her mind just
as we thought the thing was going to happen. The first mate told me that
the reason we rolled so was because we had been obliged to take in all
sail, and that the mainsail had steadied the vessel very much before the
wind got so high. This was all very well, but I didn't care much to know
why the thing was. There are some people who think a thing's all right,
if they can only tell you the reason for it.

Before dark, we had to go below, for the captain said he didn't want any
of us to roll overboard, and, besides, the spray from the high waves
made the deck very wet and unpleasant. None of us liked it below. There
was no place to sit but in the long saloon, where the dining-tables
were, and after supper we all sat there and read. Mr. Chipperton had a
lot of novels, and we each took one. But it wasn't much fun. I couldn't
get interested in my story,--at least, not in the beginning of it. I
think that people who want to use up time when they are travelling ought
to take what Rectus called a "begun" novel along with them. He had got
on pretty well in his book while he was in Nassau, and so just took it
up now and went right along.

The lamps swung so far backward and forward above the table that we
thought they would certainly spill the oil over us in one of their wild
pitches; the settees by the table slid under us as the ship rolled, so
that there was no comfort, and any one who tried to walk from one place
to another had to hang on to whatever he could get hold of, or be
tumbled up against the tables or the wall. Some folks got sea-sick and
went to bed, but we tried to stick it out as long as we could.

The storm grew worse and worse. Sometimes a big wave would strike the
side of the steamer, just behind us, with a tremendous shock. The ladies
were always sure she had "struck something" when this happened; but when
they found it was only water that she had struck, they were better
satisfied. At last, things grew to be so bad that we thought we should
have to go to bed and spend the night holding on to the handles at the
back of our berths, when, all of a sudden, there was a great change. The
rolling stopped, and the vessel seemed to be steaming along almost on an
even keel. She pitched somewhat forward and aft,--that is, her bow and
her stern went up and down by turns,--but we didn't mind that, as it was
so very much better than the wild rolling that had been kept up so long.

"I wonder what this means?" said Mr. Chipperton, actually standing up
without holding on to anything. "Can they have got into a current of
smooth water?"

I didn't think this was possible, but I didn't stop to make any
conjectures about it. Rectus and I ran up on the forward deck, to see
how this agreeable change had come about. The moment we got outside, we
found the wind blowing fearfully and the waves dashing as high as ever,
but they were not plunging against our sides. We carefully worked our
way along to the pilot-house, and looked in. The captain was inside, and
when he saw us he opened the door and came out. He was going to his own
room, just back of the pilot-house, and he told us to come with him.

He looked tired and wet, and he told us that the storm had grown so bad
that he didn't think it would be right to keep on our course any longer.
We were going to the north-west, and the storm was coming from the
north-east, and the waves and the wind dashed fair against the side of
the vessel, making her roll and careen so that it began to be unsafe. So
he had put her around with her head to the wind, and now she took the
storm on her bow, where she could stand it a great deal better. He put
all this in a good deal of sea-language, but I tell it as I got the
sense of it.

"Did you think she would go over, Captain?" asked Rectus.

"Oh no!" said he, "but something might have been carried away."

He was a very pleasant man, and talked a good deal to us.

"It's all very well to lie to, this way," he went on, "for the comfort
and safety of the passengers and the ship, but I don't like it, for
we're not keeping on to our port, which is what I want to be doing."

"Are we stopping here?" I asked.

"Pretty much," said the captain. "All that the engines are working for
is just to keep her head to the wind."

I felt the greatest respect for the captain. Instead of telling us why
the ship rolled, he just stopped her rolling. I liked that way of doing
things. And I was sure that every one on board that I had talked to
would be glad to have the vessel lie to, and make herself comfortable
until the storm was over.

We did not stay very long with the captain, for he wanted to take a nap,
and when we went out, we stood a little while by the railing, to see the
storm. The wind nearly took our heads off, and the waves dashed right up
over the bow of the ship, so that if any one had been out there, I
suppose they would have been soaked in a few minutes, if not knocked
down. But we saw two men at the wheel, in the pilot-house, steadily
holding her head to the wind, and we felt that it was all right. So we
ran below and reported, and then we all went to bed.

Although there was not much of the rolling that had been so unpleasant
before, the vessel pitched and tossed enough to make our berths,
especially mine, which was the upper one, rather shaky places to rest
in; and I did not sleep very soundly. Sometime in the night, I was
awakened by a sound of heavy and rapid footfalls on the deck above my
head. I lay and listened for a moment, and felt glad that the deck was
steady enough for them to walk on. There soon seemed to be a good deal
more running, and as they began to drag things about, I thought that it
would be a good idea to get up and find out what was going on. If it was
anything extraordinary, I wanted to see it. Of course, I woke up Rectus,
and we put on our clothes. There was now a good deal of noise on deck.

"Perhaps we have run into some vessel and sunk her," said Rectus,
opening the door, with his coat over his arm. He was in an awful hurry
to see.

"Hold up here!" I said. "Don't you go on deck in this storm without an
overcoat. If there has been a collision, you can't do any good, and you
needn't hurry so. Button up warm."

We both did that, and then we went up on deck. There was no one aft,
just then, but we could see in the moonlight, which was pretty strong,
although the sky was cloudy, that there was quite a crowd of men
forward. We made our way in that direction as fast as we could, in the
face of the wind, and when we reached the deck, just in front of the
pilot-house, we looked down to the big hatchway, where the freight and
baggage were lowered down into the hold, and there we saw what was the
matter.

The ship was on fire!

The hatchway was not open, but smoke was coming up thick and fast all
around it. A half-dozen men were around a donkey-engine that stood a
little forward of the hatch, and others were pulling at hose. The
captain was rushing here and there, giving orders. I did not hear
anything he said. No one said anything to us. Rectus asked one of the
men something, as he ran past him, but the man did not stop to answer.

But there is no need to ask any questions. There was the smoke coming
up, thicker and blacker, from the edges of the hatch.

"Come!" said I, clutching Rectus by the arm. "Let's wake them up."

"Don't you think they can put it out?" he asked, as we ran back.

"Can't tell," I answered. "But we must get ready,--that's what we've got
to do."

I am sure I did not know how we were to get ready, or what we were to
do, but my main idea was that no time was to be lost in doing something.
The first thing was to awaken our friends.

We found the steward in the saloon. There was only one lamp burning
there, and the place looked dismal, but there was light enough to see
that he was very pale.

"Don't you intend to wake up the people?" I said to him.

"What's the good?" he said. "They'll put it out."

"They may, and they mayn't," I answered, "and it wont hurt the
passengers to be awake."

With this I hurried to the Chippertons' state-room--they had a double
room in the centre of the vessel--and knocked loudly on the door. I saw
the steward going to other doors, knocking at some and opening others
and speaking to the people inside.

Mr. Chipperton jumped right up and opened the door. When he saw Rectus
and me standing there, he must have seen in our faces that something was
the matter, for he instantly asked:

"What is it? A wreck?"

I told him of the fire, and said that it might not be much, but that we
thought we'd better waken him.

"That's right," he said; "we'll be with you directly. Keep perfectly
cool. Remain just where you are. You'll see us all in five minutes," and
he shut the door.

[Illustration: "'KEEP PERFECTLY COOL,' SAID MR. CHIPPERTON."]

But I did not intend to stand there. A good many men were already
rushing from their rooms and hurrying up the steep stairs that led from
the rear of the saloon to the deck, and I could hear ladies calling out
from their rooms as if they were hurrying to get ready to come out. The
stewardess, a tall colored woman, was just going to one of these ladies,
who had her head out of the door. I told Rectus to run up on deck, see
how things were going on, and then to come back to the Chippertons'
door. Then I ran to our room, jerked the cork life-preservers from under
the pillows, and came out into the saloon with them. This seemed to
frighten several persons, who saw me as I came from our room, and they
rushed back for their life-preservers, generally getting into the wrong
room, I think. I did not want to help to make a fuss and confusion, but
I thought it would be a good deal better for us to get the
life-preservers now, than to wait. If we didn't need them, no harm would
be done. Some one had turned up several lamps in the saloon, so that we
could see better. But no one stopped to look much. Everybody, ladies and
all,--there were not many of these,--hurried on deck. The Chippertons
were the last to make their appearance. Just as their door opened,
Rectus ran up to me.

"It's worse than ever!" he said.

"Here!" said I, "take this life-preserver. Have you life-preservers in
your room?" I asked, quickly, of Mr. Chipperton.

"All right," said he, "we have them on. Keep all together and come on
deck,--and remember to be perfectly cool."

He went ahead with Mrs. Chipperton, and Rectus and I followed, one on
each side of Corny. Neither she nor her mother had yet spoken to us; but
while we were going up the stairs, Corny turned to me, as I came up
behind her, and said:

"Is it a real fire?"

"Oh, yes," I answered; "but they may put it out."




CHAPTER XIX.

THE LIFE-RAFT.


When we came out on deck, we saw in a moment that the fire was thought
to be a serious affair. Men were actually at work at the boats, which
hung from their davits on each side of the deck, not far from the stern.
They were getting them ready to be lowered. I must confess that this
seemed frightful to me. Was there really need of it?

I left our party and ran forward for a moment, to see for myself how
matters were going. People were hard at work. I could hear the pumps
going, and there was a great deal of smoke, which was driven back by the
wind. When I reached the pilot-house and looked down on the hatchway, I
saw, not only smoke coming up, but every now and then a tongue of flame.
The hatch was burning away at the edges. There must be a great fire
under it, I thought.

Just then the captain came rushing up from below. I caught hold of him.

"Is there danger?" I said. "What's to be done?"

He stopped for a moment.

"We must all save ourselves," he said, hurriedly. "I am going to the
passengers. We can't save the ship. She's all afire below." And then he
ran on.

When I got back to our group, I told them what the captain had said, and
we all instantly moved toward the boat nearest to us. Rectus told me to
put on my life-preserver, and he helped me fasten it. I had forgotten
that I had it under my arm. Most of the passengers were at our boat, but
the captain took some of them over to the other side of the deck.

[Illustration: "RECTUS HELPED ME TO FASTEN THE LIFE-PRESERVER."]

When our boat was ready, there was a great scramble and rush for it.
Most of the ladies were to get into this boat, and some of the officers
held back the men who were crowding forward. Among the others held back
were Rectus and I, and as Corny was between us, she was pushed back,
too. I do not know how the boat got to the water, nor when she started
down. The vessel pitched and tossed; we could not see well, for the
smoke came in thick puffs over us, and I did not know that the boat was
really afloat until a wave lifted it up by the side of the vessel where
we stood, and I heard Mr. Chipperton call for Corny. I could see him in
the stern of the boat, which was full of people.

"Here she is!" I yelled.

"Here I am, father!" cried Corny, and she ran from us to the railing.

"Lower her down," said Mr. Chipperton, from below. He did not seem
flurried at all, but I saw that no time was to be lost, for a man was
trying to cut or untie a rope which still held the boat to the steamer.
Then she would be off. There was a light line on the deck near me--I
had caught my foot in it, a minute before. It was strong enough to hold
Corny. I got hold of one end of it and tied it around her, under her
arms. She had a great shawl, as well as a life-preserver, tied around
her, and looked dreadfully bundled up.

She did not say a word, but let Rectus and me do as we chose, and we got
her over the railing in no time. I braced myself against the seat that
ran around the deck, and lowered. Rectus leaned over and directed,
holding on to the line as well. I felt strong enough to hold two of her,
with the rope running over the rail. I let her go down pretty fast, for
I was afraid the boat would be off; but directly Rectus called to me to
stop.

"The boat isn't under her," he cried. "They've pushed off. Haul up a
little! A wave nearly took her, just then!"

With that, we hauled her up a little, and almost at the same moment I
saw the boat rising on a wave. By that time, it was an oar's length from
the ship.

"They say they can't pull back," shouted Mr. Chipperton. "Don't let her
down any further."

"All right!" I roared back at him. "We'll bring her in another boat,"
and I began to pull up with all my might.

Rectus took hold of the rope with me, and we soon had Corny on deck. She
ran to the stern and held out her arms to the boat.

"Oh, father!" she cried. "Wait for me!"

I saw Mr. Chipperton violently addressing the men in the boat, but they
had put out their oars and were beginning to pull away. I knew they
would not come back, especially as they knew, of course, that there were
other boats on board. Then Mr. Chipperton stood up again, put his hands
to his mouth, and shouted back to us:

"Bring her--right after us. If we get--parted--meet--at Savannah!"

He was certainly one of the coolest men in the world. To think--at such
a time--of appointing a place to meet! And yet it was a good idea. I
believe he expected the men in his boat to row directly to the Florida
coast, where they would find quick dispatch to Savannah.

Poor Corny was disconsolate, and cried bitterly. I think I heard her
mother call back to her, but I am not sure about it. There was so much
to see and hear. And yet I had been so busy with what I had had to do
that I had seen comparatively little of what was going on around me.

One thing, however, I had noticed, and it impressed me deeply even at
the time. There was none of the wailing and screaming and praying that I
had supposed was always to be seen and heard at such dreadful times as
this. People seemed to know that there were certain things that they had
to do if they wanted to save themselves, and they went right to work and
did them. And the principal thing was to get off that ship without any
loss of time. Of course, it was not pleasant to be in a small boat,
pitching about on those great waves, but almost anywhere was a better
place than a ship on fire. I heard a lady scream once or twice, but I
don't think there was much of that sort of thing. However, there might
have been more of it than I thought. I was driving away at my own
business.

The moment I heard the last word from Mr. Chipperton, I rushed to the
other side of the deck, dragging Corny along with me. But the boat was
gone from there.

I could see them pulling away some distance from the ship. It was easy
to see things now, for the fire was blazing up in front. I think the
vessel had been put around, for she rolled a good deal, and the smoke
was not coming back over us.

I untied the line from Corny, and stood for a moment looking about me.
There seemed to be no one aft but us three. We had missed both boats.
Mr. Chipperton had helped his wife into the boat, and had expected to
turn round and take Corny. No doubt he had told the men to be perfectly
cool, and not to hurry. And while we were shouting to him and lowering
Corny, the other boat had put off.

There was a little crowd of men amidships, hard at work at something. We
ran there. They were launching the life-raft. The captain was among
them.

"Are there no more boats?" I shouted.

He turned his head.

"What! A girl left?" he cried. "No. The fire has cut off the other
boats. We must all get on the raft. Stand by with the girl, and I'll see
you safe."

The life-raft was a big affair that Rectus and I had often examined. It
had two long, air-tight cylinders, of iron, I suppose, kept apart by a
wide framework. On this framework, between the cylinders, canvas was
stretched, and on this the passengers were to sit. Of course it would be
impossible to sink a thing like this.

In a very short time, the raft was lifted to the side of the vessel and
pushed overboard. It was bound to come right side up. And as soon as it
was afloat, the men began to drop down on it. The captain had hold of a
line that was fastened to it, and I think one of the mates had another
line.

"Get down! Get down!" cried the captain to us.

I told Rectus to jump first, as the vessel rolled that way, and he
landed all right, and stood up as well as he could to catch Corny. Over
she went at the next roll, with a good send from me, and I came right
after her. I heard the captain shout:

"All hands aboard the raft!" and then, in a minute, he jumped himself.
Some of the men pushed her off with a pole. It was almost like floating
right on the surface of the water, but I felt it was perfectly safe.
Nothing could make those great cylinders sink. We floated away from the
ship, and we were all glad enough of it, for the air was getting hot.
The whole front part of the vessel was blazing away like a house on
fire. I don't remember whether the engines were still working or not,
but at any rate we drifted astern, and were soon at quite a little
distance from the steamer.

It was safe enough, perhaps, on the raft, but it was not in the least
comfortable. We were all crowded together, crouching on the canvas, and
the water just swashed about us as if we were floating boards. We went
up and down on the waves with a motion that wouldn't have been so bad
had we not thought we might be shuffled off, if a big wave turned us
over a little too much. But there were lots of things to hold on to, and
we all stuck close together. We three were in the middle. The captain
told us to get there. There is no way of telling how glad I was that the
captain was with us. I was well satisfied, anyway, to be with the party
on the raft. I might have liked it better in a boat, but I think most of
the men in the boats were waiters, or stewards, or passengers--fellows
who were in a hurry to get off. The officers and sailors who remained
behind to do their best for the ship and the passengers were the men on
the raft; and these I felt we could trust. I think there were ten of
them, besides the captain, making fourteen of us in all.

There we all sat, while the ship blazed and crackled away, before us.
She drifted faster than we did, and so got farther and farther away from
us. The fire lighted up the sea for a good distance, and every time we
rose on the top of a wave, some of us looked about to see if we could
see anything of the other boats. But we saw nothing of them. Once I
caught sight of a black spot on a high wave at quite a distance, which I
thought might be a boat, but no one else saw it, and it was gone in an
instant. The captain said it made no real difference to us whether we
saw the other boats or not; they could not help us. All the help we had
to expect was from some passing ship, which might see us, and pick us
up. He was very encouraging, though, about this, for he said we were
right in the track of vessels bound North, which all sought the Gulf
Stream; and, besides, a burning ship at night would attract the
attention of vessels at a great distance, and some of them would be sure
to make for us.

"We'll see a sail in the morning," said he; "make up your minds to that.
All we've got to do is to stick together on the raft, and we're almost
sure to be picked up."

I think he said things like this to give courage to us three, but I
don't believe we needed it, particularly. Rectus was very quiet, but I
think that if he could have kept himself dry he would have been pretty
well satisfied to float until daylight, for he had full faith in the
captain, and was sure we should be picked up. I was pretty much of the
same mind, but poor Corny was in a sad way. It was no comfort to her to
tell her that we should be picked up, unless she could be assured that
the same ship would pick up her father and mother. But we could say
nothing positive about this, of course, although we did all that we
could, in a general way, to make her feel that everything would turn out
all right. She sat wrapped up in her shawl, and seldom said a word. But
her eyes were wandering all over the waves, looking for a boat.

The ship was now quite a long way off, still burning, and lighting up
the tops of the waves and the sky. Just before day-break, her light
suddenly went out.

"She's gone down!" said the captain, and then he said no more for a long
time. I felt very sorry for him. Even if he should be saved, he had lost
his ship,--had seen it burn up and sink before his eyes. Such a thing
must be pretty hard on a captain. Even I felt as if I had lost a friend.
The old "Tigris" seemed so well known to us.

It was now more dismal than ever. It was darker; and although the
burning ship could do us no good, we were sorry to have her leave us.
Nobody said much, but we all began to feel pretty badly. Morning came
slowly, and we were wet and cold, and getting stiff. Besides, we were
all very thirsty, and I, for one, was hungry; but there was no good
reason for that, for it was not yet breakfast-time. Fortunately, after a
while, Corny went to sleep. We were very glad of it, though how she
managed to sleep while the raft was rising and falling and sliding and
sloshing from one wave to another, I can't tell. But she didn't have
much holding on to do. We did that for her.

At last daylight came, and then we began to look about in good earnest.
We saw a top-sail off on the horizon, but it was too far for our raft to
be seen from it, and it might be coming our way or it might not. When we
were down in the trough of the waves we could see nothing, and no one
could have seen us. It was of no use to put up a signal, the captain
said, until we saw a vessel near enough to see it.

We waited, and we waited, and waited, until it was well on in the
morning, and still we saw no other sail. The one we had seen had
disappeared entirely.

We all began to feel miserable now. We were weak and cold and wretched.
There wasn't a thing to eat or drink on the raft. The fire had given no
time to get anything. Some of the men began to grumble. It would have
been better, they said, to have started off as soon as they found out
the fire, and have had time to put something to eat and drink on the
raft. It was all wasted time to try to save the ship. It did no good,
after all. The captain said nothing to this. He knew that he had done
his duty in trying to put out the fire, and he just kept his mouth shut,
and looked out for a sail. There was one man with us--a red-faced,
yellow-haired man--with a curly beard, and little gold rings in his
ears. He looked more like a sailor than any other of the men, and Rectus
and I always put him down for the sailor who had been longer at sea, and
knew more about ships and sailing, than any other of the crew. But this
man was the worst grumbler of the lot, now, and we altered our opinion
about him.

Corny woke up every now and then, but she soon went to sleep again, when
she found there was no boat or sail in sight. At least, I thought she
went to sleep, but she might have been thinking and crying. She was so
crouched up that we could not see whether she was awake or not.




CHAPTER XX.

THE RUSSIAN BARK.


We soon began to think the captain was mistaken in saying there would be
lots of ships coming this way. But then, we couldn't see very far. Ships
may have passed within a few miles of us, without our knowing anything
about it. It was very different from being high up on a ship's deck, or
in her rigging. Sometimes, though, we seemed high enough up, when we got
on the top of a wave.

It was fully noon before we saw another sail. And when we saw this one
for the second or third time (for we only caught a glimpse of it every
now and then), a big man, who had been sitting on the edge of the raft,
and hardly ever saying a word, sung out:

"I believe that's a Russian bark."

And after he had had two or three more sights at her, he said:

"Yes, I know she is."

"That's so," said the captain; "and she's bearing down on us."

Now, how in the world they knew what sort of a ship that was, and which
way it was sailing, I couldn't tell for the life of me. To me it was a
little squarish spot on the lower edge of the sky, and I have always
thought that I could see well enough. But these sailors have eyes like
spy-glasses.

Now, then, we were all alive, and began to get ready to put up a signal.
Fortunately, the pole was on the raft,--I believe the captain had it
fastened on, thinking we might want it,--and now all we had to do was to
make a flag. We three got out our handkerchiefs, which were wet, but
white enough yet, and the captain took out his. We tied them together by
the corners, and made a long pennant of them. When we tied one end of
this to the pole, it made quite a show. The wind soon dried it, after
the pole was hoisted and held up, and then our flag fluttered finely.

The sun had now come out quite bright and warm, which was a good thing
for us, for it dried us off somewhat, and made us more comfortable. The
wind had also gone down a good deal. If it had not been for these two
things, I don't know how we could have stood it. But the waves were
still very high.

Every time we saw the ship, she seemed to look bigger and bigger, and we
knew that the captain was right, and that she was making for us. But she
was a long time coming. Even after she got so near that we could plainly
see her hull and masts and sails, she did not seem to be sailing
directly toward us. Indeed, sometimes I thought she didn't notice us.
She would go far off one way, and then off the other way.

"Oh, why don't she come right to us?" cried Corny, beating her hands on
her knees. "She isn't as near now as she was half an hour ago."

This was the first time that Corny had let herself out in this way, but
I don't wonder she did it. The captain explained that the ship couldn't
sail right to us, because the wind was not in the proper direction for
that. She had to tack. If she had been a steamer, the case would have
been different. We all sat and waited, and waved our flag.

She came nearer and nearer, and it was soon plain enough that she saw
us. The captain told us that it was all right now--all we had to do was
to keep up our courage, and we'd soon be on board the bark. But when the
men who were holding the pole let it down, he told them to put it up
again. He wanted to make sure they should see us.

At last, the bark came so near that we could see the people on board,
but still she went past us. This was the hardest to bear of all, for she
seemed so near. But when she tacked and came back, she sailed right down
to us. We could see her all the time now, whether we were up or down.

"She'll take us this time," said the captain.

I supposed that when the ship came near us she would stop and lower a
boat, but there seemed to be no intention of the kind. A group of men
stood in her bow, and I saw that one of them held a round life-preserver
in his hand,--it was one of the India-rubber kind, filled with air, and
to it a line was attached. When the ship was just opposite to us, this
man shouted something which I did not hear, and threw the
life-preserver. It fell close to the raft. I thought, indeed, it was
coming right into the midst of us. The red-faced man with the gold
ear-rings was nearest to it. He made a grab at it, and missed it. On
went the ship, and on went the life-preserver, skipping and dancing over
the waves. They let out lots of line, but still the life-preserver was
towed away.

A regular howl went up from our raft. I thought some of the men would
jump into the sea and swim after the ship, which was now rapidly leaving
us. We heard a shout from the vessel, but what it meant I did not know.
On she went, and on, as if she was never coming back.

"She'll come back," said the captain. "She'll tack again."

But it was hard to believe him. I don't know whether he believed
himself. Corny was wildly crying now, and Rectus was as white as a
sheet. No one seemed to have any hope or self-control except the
captain. Some of the men looked as if they did not care whether the ship
ever came back or not.

"The sea is too high," said one of them. "She'd swamp a boat, if she'd
put it out."

"Just you wait!" said the captain.

The bark sailed away so far that I shut my eyes. I could not look after
her any more. Then, as we rose on the top of a wave, I heard a rumble of
words among the men, and I looked out, and saw she was tacking. Before
long, she was sailing straight back to us, and the most dreadful moments
of my life were ended. I had really not believed that she would ever
return to us.

Again she came plowing along before us, the same group on her bow; again
the life-preserver was thrown, and this time the captain seized it.

In a moment the line was made fast to the raft. But there was no sudden
tug. The men on the bark knew better than that. They let out some two or
three hundred feet of line and lay to, with their sails fluttering in
the wind.

Then they began to haul us in. I don't remember much more of what
happened just about this time. It was all a daze of high black hull and
tossing waves, and men overhead, and ropes coming down, and seeing Corny
hauled up into the air. After a while, I was hauled up, and Rectus went
before me. I was told afterward that some of the stoutest men could
scarcely help themselves, they were so cramped and stiff, and had to be
hoisted on board like sheep.

I know that when I put my feet on the deck, my knees were so stiff that
I could not stand. Two women had Corny between them, and were carrying
her below. I was so delighted to see that there were women on board.
Rectus and I were carried below, too, and three or four rough looking
fellows, who didn't speak a word that we could understand, set to work
at us and took off our clothes, and rubbed us with warm stuff, and gave
us some hot tea and gruel, and I don't know what else, and put us into
hammocks, and stuffed blankets around us, and made me feel warmer, and
happier, and more grateful and sleepy than I thought it was in me to
feel. I expect Rectus felt the same. In about five minutes, I was fast
asleep.

I don't know how long it was before I woke up. When I opened my eyes, I
just lay and looked about me. I did not care for times and seasons. I
knew I was all right. I wondered when they would come around again with
gruel. I had an idea they lived on gruel in that ship, and I remembered
that it was very good. After a while, a man did come around, and he
looked into my hammock. I think from his cap that he was an
officer,--probably a doctor. When he saw that I was awake, he said
something to me. I had seen some Russian words in print, and the letters
all seemed upside down, or lying sideways on the page. And that was
about the way he spoke. But he went and got me a cup of tea, and some
soup, and some bread, and I understood his food very well.

After a while, our captain came around to my hammock. He looked a great
deal better than when I saw him last, and said he had had a good sleep.
He told me that Corny was all right, and was sleeping again, and that
the mate's wife had her in charge. Rectus was in a hammock near me, and
I could hear him snore, as if he were perfectly happy. The captain said
that these Russian people were just as kind as they could be; that the
master of the bark, who could speak English, had put his vessel under
his--our captain's--command, and told him to cruise around wherever he
chose in search of the two boats.

"And did you find them?" I asked.

"No," said he. "We have been on the search now for twenty-four hours,
and can see nothing of them. But I feel quite sure they have been picked
up. They could row, and they could get further into the course of
vessels than we were. We'll find them when we get ashore."

The captain was a hopeful man, but I could not feel as cheerfully as he
spoke. All that I could say was: "Poor Corny!"

He did not answer me, but went away; and soon, in spite of all my doubts
and fears, I fell asleep.

The next time I woke up, I got out of my hammock, and found I was pretty
much all right. My clothes had been dried and ironed, I reckon, and were
lying on a chest all ready for me. While Rectus and I were dressing, for
he got up at the same time that I did, our captain came to us, and
brought me a little package of greenbacks.

"The master of the bark gave me these," said the captain, "and said they
were pinned in your watch-pocket. He has had them dried and pressed out
for you."

There it was, all the money belonging to Rectus and myself, which,
according to old Mr. Colbert's advice, I had carefully pinned in the
watch-pocket of my trousers before leaving Nassau. I asked the captain
if we should not pay something for our accommodations on this vessel,
but he said we must not mention anything of the kind. The people on the
ship would not listen to it. Even our watches seemed to have suffered
no damage from the soaking they had had in our wet clothes.

As soon as we were ready, we went up on deck, and there we saw Corny.
She was sitting by herself near the stern, and looked like a different
kind of a girl from what she had been two or three days before. She
seemed several years older.

"Do you really think the other boats were picked up?" she said, the
moment she saw us.

Poor thing! She began to cry as soon as she began to speak. Of course,
we sat down and talked to her, and said everything we could think of to
reassure her. And in about half an hour she began to be much more
cheerful, and to look as if the world might have something satisfactory
in it after all.

Our captain and the master of the bark now came to us. The Russian
master was a pleasant man, and talked pretty good English. I think he
was glad to see us, but what we said in the way of thanks embarrassed
him a good deal. I suppose he had never done much at rescuing people.

He and our captain both told us that they felt quite sure that the boats
had either reached the Florida coast or been picked up; for we had
cruised very thoroughly over the course they must have taken. We were a
little north of Cape Canaveral when the "Tigris" took fire.

About sundown that day, we reached the mouth of the Savannah river and
went on board a tug to go up to the city, while our bark would proceed
on her voyage. There were fourteen grateful people who went down the
side of that Russian bark to the little tug that we had signalled; and
some of us, I know, were sorry we could not speak Russian, so we could
tell our rescuers more plainly what we thought of them.

When we reached Savannah, we went directly to the hotel where Rectus and
I had stopped on our former visit, and there we found ourselves the
objects of great attention,--I don't mean we three particularly, but the
captain and all of us. We brought the news of the burning of the
"Tigris," and so we immediately knew that nothing had been heard of the
two boats. Corny was taken in charge by some of the ladies in the hotel,
and Rectus and I told the story of the burning and the raft twenty or
thirty times. The news created a great sensation, and was telegraphed to
all parts of the country. The United States government sent a revenue
cutter from Charleston, and one from St. Augustine, to cruise along the
coast, and endeavor to find some traces of the survivors, if there were
any.

But two days passed and no news came. We thought Corny would go crazy.

"I know they're dead," she said. "If they were alive, anywhere, we'd
hear from them."

But we would not admit that, and tried, in every way, to prove that the
people in the boats might have landed somewhere where they could not
communicate with us, or might have been picked up by a vessel which had
carried them to South America, or Europe, or some other distant place.

"Well, why don't we go look for them, then, if there's any chance of
their being on some desert island? It's dreadful to sit here and wait,
and wait, and do nothing."

Now I began to see the good of being rich. Rectus came to me, soon after
Corny had been talking about going to look for her father and mother,
and he said:

"Look here, Will,"--he had begun to call me "Will," of late, probably
because Corny called me so,--"I think it _is_ too bad that we should
just sit here and do nothing. I spoke to Mr. Parker about it, and he
says, we can get a tug-boat, he thinks, and go out and do what looking
we can. If it eases our minds, he says, there's no objection to it. So
I'm going to telegraph to father to let me hire a tug-boat."

I thought this was a first-class idea, and we went to see Messrs. Parker
and Darrell, who were merchants in the city, and the owners of the
"Tigris." They had been very kind to us, and told us now that they did
not suppose it would do any real good for us to go out in a tug-boat and
search along the coast, but that if we thought it would help the poor
girl to bear her trouble they were in favor of the plan. They were
really afraid she would lose her reason if she did not do something.

Corny was now staying at Mr. Darrell's house. His wife, who was a
tip-top lady, insisted that she should come there. When we went around
to talk to Corny about making a search, she said that that was exactly
what she wanted to do. If we would take her out to look for her father
and mother, and we couldn't find them after we had looked all we could,
she would come back, and ask nothing more.

Then we determined to go. We hadn't thought of taking Corny along, but
Mr. Darrell and the others thought it would be best; and Mrs. Darrell
said her own colored woman, named Celia, should go with her, and take
care of her. I could not do anything but agree to things, but Rectus
telegraphed to his father, and got authority to hire a tug; and Mr.
Parker attended to the business himself; and the tug was to be ready
early the next morning. We thought this was a long time to wait. But it
couldn't be helped.

I forgot to say that Rectus and I had telegraphed home to our parents as
soon as we reached Savannah, and had answers back, which were very long
ones for telegrams. We had also written home. But we did not say
anything to Corny about all this. It would have broken her heart if she
had thought about any one writing to his father and mother, and hearing
from them.




CHAPTER XXI.

THE TRIP OF THE TUG.


The tug-boat was a little thing, and not very clean; but she was strong
and sea-worthy, we were told, and therefore we were satisfied. There was
a small deck aft, on which Corny and Rectus and I sat, with Celia, the
colored woman; and there were some dingy little sleeping-places, which
were given up for our benefit. The captain of the tug was a white man,
but all the rest, engineer, fireman and hands--there were five or six in
all--were negroes.

We steamed down the Savannah River in pretty good style, but I was glad
when we got out of it, for I was tired of that river. Our plan was to go
down the coast and try to find tidings of the boats. They might have
reached land at points where the revenue cutters would never have heard
from them. When we got out to sea, the water was quite smooth, although
there was a swell that rolled us a great deal. The captain said that if
it had been rough he would not have come out at all. This sounded rather
badly for us, because he might give up the search, if a little storm
came on. And besides, if he was afraid of high waves in his tug, what
chance could those boats have had?

Toward noon, we got into water that was quite smooth, and we could see
land on the ocean side of us. I couldn't understand this, and went to
ask the captain about it. He said it was all right, we were going to
take the inside passage, which is formed by the islands that lie along
nearly all the coast of Georgia. The strips of sea-water between these
islands and the mainland make a smooth and convenient passage for the
smaller vessels that sail or steam along this coast. Indeed, some quite
good-sized steamers go this way, he said.

I objected, pretty strongly, to our taking this passage, because, I
said, we could never hear anything of the boats while we were in here.
But he was positive that if they had managed to land on the outside of
any of these islands, we could hear of them better from the inside than
from the ocean side. And besides, we could get along a great deal better
inside. He seemed to think more of that than anything else.

We had a pretty dull time on that tug. There wasn't a great deal of
talking, but there was lots of thinking, and not a very pleasant kind of
thinking either. We stopped quite often and hailed small boats, and the
captain talked to people whenever he had a chance, but he never heard
anything about any boats having run ashore on any of the islands, or
having come into the inside passage, between any of them. We met a few
sailing vessels, and toward the close of the afternoon we met a big
steamer, something like northern river steamers. The captain said she
ran between the St. John's River and Savannah, and always took the
inside passage as far as she could. He said this as if it showed him to
be in the right in taking the same passage, but I couldn't see that it
proved anything. We were on a different business.