Pelham, you will convey these people to the Josephine, and report what has been done to the captain,” said Martyn, who was the superior officer.
The first cutter was hauled up to the gangway of the galiot, and Pelham by signs invited the family to embark. They comprehended his meaning, and the females were assisted into the boat. The older man, who was apparently the skipper of the vessel, exhibited some reluctance at leaving his craft. His heart seemed to be broken by the calamity which had befallen him, and he wept bitterly, uttering piteous exclamations, which could not be understood by the Josephines, as Pelham hurried him into the cutter.
The party continued their sad wailings till the boat reached the schooner. The women were assisted to the deck, where they stood staring with blank amazement at the vessel and her crew. The skipper was bewildered by the misfortune that overshadowed him.
“I am glad to see you, sir,” said Paul, as the disconsolate captain came up the accommodation ladder.
“No use, Captain Kendall,” said Pelham, smiling. “They can’t speak a word of English.”
“Do you know anything about the vessel?” asked Paul.
“I read her name on the stern, as we came back, and wrote it down; for a Yankee would choke to death in uttering it,” replied Pelham, as he produced a piece of wet paper. “It is the ‘Wel tevreeden, Dordrecht.’”
“That’s Dutch. She hails from Dort,” added Paul.
“Where are the professors?” asked Terrill. “Can they speak Dutch?”
The professors, who had seen enough of rough weather for one day, had been making themselves as comfortable as possible in the cabin. The Dutchman and his family were conducted below by the first lieutenant.
“What have you here?” demanded Mr. Stoute, who had just come from his berth, in which he had bolstered himself up, in order, as he expressed it, to know exactly where he was.
“We have just saved them from the wreck of a Dutch galiot. They can’t speak a word of English, and we wish you to talk to them.”
“In Dutch?” laughed Mr. Stoute. “I cannot do it.”
“What is the matter, Mr. Terrill?” inquired Professor Hamblin, who had also taken to his berth to save his limbs from being broken.
“A vessel has been wrecked, and we have saved two men and two women. Can you talk Dutch?” asked the first lieutenant, going to the door of the professor’s state-room.
Mr. Hamblin proved to be no wiser than his associate, so far as the Dutch language was concerned; and it was found to be impossible to hold any communication with the wrecked persons except by signs. They were committed to the care of the steward, by whom everything was done to render them comfortable. The captain’s state-room was given to the women, and they were supplied with hot coffee and other refreshments.
“What is the condition of the wreck, Mr. Pelham?” asked Captain Kendall, as soon as the unfortunate persons had been provided for.
“She is half full of water,” replied the second master. “The crew of the gig were pumping her out when we left.”
“Do you know anything about her cargo?”
“No, sir. Her hatches were battened down, and we could not see what was in the hold.”
The first lieutenant was directed to detail a working party for the wreck, to assist in pumping her out, and the first cutter returned to the galiot with sixteen hands. Orders were sent to Martyn to use every exertion to save the vessel and her cargo. It was now nearly dark; but the weather was favorable, and Paul hoped to get the dismasted galiot into port on the following day.
The cutter reached the wreck, and the crew of the gig, who had been pumping and baling diligently, were relieved by fresh hands. The work went on with renewed energy. The hatches had been taken off, and the cargo was found to consist of butter, cheese, and manufactured goods. The boatswain had explored the hold, and declared that the merchandise was not badly damaged. The galiot had taken in less water than was supposed, from her position on the waves. After four hours of severe toil by the young seamen, the pumps sucked. The hull was tight, and the working party were greatly encouraged by the success of their efforts.
The boatswain and carpenter, assisted by the boys, rigged a jury-mast out of the foremast of the galiot, which had been saved for the purpose. A jib and foresail were bent upon it, and the “Wel tevreeden” was in condition to make a harbor. It was midnight when the work was completed, and the report sent to Captain Kendall. Martyn, Pelham, and a crew of ten, to be assisted by Cleats and Gage, were detailed to take the galiot into the Scheldt.
During the first part of the night it had been a dead calm, which had greatly assisted the labors of the working party. About four o’clock, on the morning of Sunday, a light breeze from the westward sprang up, and the order was given by signal for the galiot to make sail, and to follow the Josephine. There was hardly a four-knot breeze, with the tide setting out; and the progress of the galiot, under her short sail, was very slow.
Nothing had been seen of the Young America since the storm shut down upon her and concealed her from the view of those on board of the Josephine. Paul knew that Mr. Lowington would be exceedingly anxious about him and his vessel; but he was proud and happy in the reflection that he had carried the Josephine safely through the perils which had surrounded her. He had not closed his eyes during the night, as indeed no one connected with the sailing department of the schooner had done. The professors and the wrecked party had all turned in as usual, while Paul kept vigil on deck with the first lieutenant.
“Sail ho!” cried the lookout forward, about seven o’clock in the morning.
A small vessel was discovered approaching the Josephine from the direction of the shore, or rather of the mouth of the Scheldt, whose western estuary forms a broad bay about twelve miles in width. As the small craft came near, it was evident that she was a pilot boat. She carried a red flag at her mast-head, on which was a number in white figures. On her principal sail there was a large letter “P,” and under it “Antwerpen.” When she hove in sight, the jack was hoisted at the foremast-head of the Josephine, which is the signal for a pilot. As the little cutter rounded to, the words “Bateau Pilote” with her number, were seen on the stern.
She was a Belgian pilot-boat. The mouth of the Scheldt, and its course for forty miles, are in Holland, and off the mouth of the river both Dutch and Belgian pilots offer their services to inward-bound vessels; but the sea pilots take vessels only to Flushing, the river pilotage being a separate charge. Mr. Lowington had instructed Paul, as the squadron was bound to Antwerp, to prefer a Belgian pilot, who would take the vessel up to that city, and charge the pilotage in one bill.
A canoe put off from the “Bateau Pilote,” and a weather-beaten Belgian sailor leaped upon the deck. He opened his eyes very wide when he had taken a single glance at the vessel and her crew. He seemed to be as much confounded as the Liverpool pilot had been on a similar occasion. The professors were at breakfast in the cabin, and not a single man appeared on deck.
“L’Amerique?” said the pilot, glancing at the flag which floated at the peak.
“Oui,” replied Paul, laughing.
“Où est le capitaine, monsieur?” added the pilot, looking around him again.
“Je suis capitaine,” replied Paul.
