into the boat but she urged the distressed wife of the Cormorant’s captain to follow her example.
Suddenly, the movement of the boat changed perceptibly. Itwas still highly mobile but now the waves seemed higher, the rise of the small boat greater than before and the drop into every trough even deeper, with a longer time between the two.
‘We’ve left the lee of the land and are in open water,’ Macleish shouted to the seamen in the boat. ‘It’s as I thought, Cormorant must have struck the rocks on Lundy. If we can raise the mast with not too much sail the wind should take us towards the Cornish coast.’
‘The north coast,’ one of the seamen growled, ‘Most of that’s as rocky as Lundy.’
‘ Most of it,’ Macleish agreed, ‘but there are harbours and beaches too. By the time we get there it should be light and we’ll be able to choose where we go ashore. Let’s get that mast up.’
The mast was raised and a modicum of sail set. Although the sail added to the boat’s speed and made it easier for Mate Macleish to keep the boat on course, it did nothing to help Eliza and Agnes with the bailing. Half-an-hour after clearing the comparative shelter of Lundy Island the amount of water inside the Cormorant ’s boat had reached alarming proportions. It hardly improved when Macleish made two of the sailors take the balers, telling Eliza and Agnes to do what they could with cupped hands in a feeble attempt to help.
It was evident they were fighting a losing battle and Eliza asked, ‘How far are we from land?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ the mate replied, ‘And that’s all I can make … a guess. It could be a mile – or it could be ten! What’s far more certain is that unless we get there soon we’ll be in serious trouble. We’re so low in the water it’s coming in faster than we can bail it out. I’ll raise more sail and hope to reach the coast before we go under.’
‘Is that wise?’ The nearest oarsman put the question to the mate. ‘The wind has strengthened and is likely to drive us straight into a large wave, instead of riding it.’
‘We have no choice. The water in the boat is already so high we probably have no more than a few minutes afloat. If I raise more sail you can all stow the oars and bail as best you can – and pray while you’re doing it.’
More sail was raised, but the oarsman was proved right. The wind had actually increased, making the boat far less manoeuvrable . Within minutes of the mate’s last order – disaster struck.
The boat was riding the crest of a wave when a sound like a musket shot was heard above the noise of the storm – and the mast snapped. In doing so it carried the sail and jib with it, sweeping three of the boat’s occupants into the sea.
One was Agnes Leyland, who had just straightened up to ease the pain in her back brought about by baling.
Eliza screamed as her late mistress disappeared over the side, but nobody was able to help those swept overboard now. The boat had become unmanageable. Nothing could save its occupants .
Suddenly, Eliza found the mate at her side, a knife in his hand. For a moment she cringed in terror, convinced he was about to kill her to save her from suffering in the water.
Instead, he shouted, ‘I’ve cut the sail away and am tying you to the broken off mast. Keep your senses about you in the water and cling to the mast as tightly as you can. Don’t let go of it, whatever else you do!’
With seamanlike efficiency he carried out his task, even as he was speaking. Moments later he uttered his last words as the boat sank from under the shipwrecked occupants, leaving them at the mercy of the raging sea.
‘God bless you, girl! If you make it to safety say a prayer for me and the others.’
Then she was alone in the water, clinging to the broken mast, her cry of terror cut short by a mouthful of cold salt sea water….
Chapter Nine
A LICE HAD JUST dragged the unconscious girl to a patch of sand,
Suddenly, the movement of the boat changed perceptibly. Itwas still highly mobile but now the waves seemed higher, the rise of the small boat greater than before and the drop into every trough even deeper, with a longer time between the two.
‘We’ve left the lee of the land and are in open water,’ Macleish shouted to the seamen in the boat. ‘It’s as I thought, Cormorant must have struck the rocks on Lundy. If we can raise the mast with not too much sail the wind should take us towards the Cornish coast.’
‘The north coast,’ one of the seamen growled, ‘Most of that’s as rocky as Lundy.’
‘ Most of it,’ Macleish agreed, ‘but there are harbours and beaches too. By the time we get there it should be light and we’ll be able to choose where we go ashore. Let’s get that mast up.’
The mast was raised and a modicum of sail set. Although the sail added to the boat’s speed and made it easier for Mate Macleish to keep the boat on course, it did nothing to help Eliza and Agnes with the bailing. Half-an-hour after clearing the comparative shelter of Lundy Island the amount of water inside the Cormorant ’s boat had reached alarming proportions. It hardly improved when Macleish made two of the sailors take the balers, telling Eliza and Agnes to do what they could with cupped hands in a feeble attempt to help.
It was evident they were fighting a losing battle and Eliza asked, ‘How far are we from land?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ the mate replied, ‘And that’s all I can make … a guess. It could be a mile – or it could be ten! What’s far more certain is that unless we get there soon we’ll be in serious trouble. We’re so low in the water it’s coming in faster than we can bail it out. I’ll raise more sail and hope to reach the coast before we go under.’
‘Is that wise?’ The nearest oarsman put the question to the mate. ‘The wind has strengthened and is likely to drive us straight into a large wave, instead of riding it.’
‘We have no choice. The water in the boat is already so high we probably have no more than a few minutes afloat. If I raise more sail you can all stow the oars and bail as best you can – and pray while you’re doing it.’
More sail was raised, but the oarsman was proved right. The wind had actually increased, making the boat far less manoeuvrable . Within minutes of the mate’s last order – disaster struck.
The boat was riding the crest of a wave when a sound like a musket shot was heard above the noise of the storm – and the mast snapped. In doing so it carried the sail and jib with it, sweeping three of the boat’s occupants into the sea.
One was Agnes Leyland, who had just straightened up to ease the pain in her back brought about by baling.
Eliza screamed as her late mistress disappeared over the side, but nobody was able to help those swept overboard now. The boat had become unmanageable. Nothing could save its occupants .
Suddenly, Eliza found the mate at her side, a knife in his hand. For a moment she cringed in terror, convinced he was about to kill her to save her from suffering in the water.
Instead, he shouted, ‘I’ve cut the sail away and am tying you to the broken off mast. Keep your senses about you in the water and cling to the mast as tightly as you can. Don’t let go of it, whatever else you do!’
With seamanlike efficiency he carried out his task, even as he was speaking. Moments later he uttered his last words as the boat sank from under the shipwrecked occupants, leaving them at the mercy of the raging sea.
‘God bless you, girl! If you make it to safety say a prayer for me and the others.’
Then she was alone in the water, clinging to the broken mast, her cry of terror cut short by a mouthful of cold salt sea water….
Chapter Nine
A LICE HAD JUST dragged the unconscious girl to a patch of sand,
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