"Better wait," he muttered, and turned his gaze seaward again. Yes,
there could be no doubt that the almost unbroken swell within half a
cable's length of the ship promised a possibility of escape. There was
no telling what dangers lay beyond. To his reckoning, the nearest land
was twenty miles distant, but the shoal water might extend all the way,
and, with a falling wind, waves once disintegrated would not regain any
considerable size. It was a throw of the dice for life, but it must be
taken. He indulged in a momentary thought as to his own course. Would
he leave the ship in the last boat? Yes, if every wounded man on board
were taken off first; and how could he entertain even a shred of hope
that his cowardly crew would preserve such discipline to the end as to
permit of that being done?
The answer to his mute question came sooner than he expected. He had
been standing there alone about five minutes, intently watching the set
of the sea, so as to determine the best time for lowering a boat, when,
amid the sustained shriek of the wind and the lashing of the spray, he
heard sounds which told him that the forward port life-boat was being
swung outward on the davits. The hurricane deck was a mass of confused
figures. The two boats to starboard, a life-boat and the jolly-boat,
had been carried across the deck in readiness to take the places of the
port life-boats. A landsman might think that medley reigned supreme;
but it was not so. Sailor-like work was proceeding with the utmost
speed and system, when an accident happened. For some reason never
ascertained, though it was believed that the men in the leading boat
were too anxious to clear the falls and failed to take the proper
precautions, the heavy craft pitched stern foremost into the sea. She
sank like a stone, and with her went a number of Chileans; their
despairing yells, coming up from the churning froth, seemed to be a
signal for the demoniac passions latent in the crew to burst forth
again, this time in a consuming blaze that would not be stayed. Each
man fought blindly for himself, heedless now of all restrictions. The
knowledge of this latest disaster spread with amazing rapidity. Up
from the saloon came a rush of stewards and others. Overborne in the
panic-stricken flight, Gray, Tollemache, Christobal, the French Count
and the head steward, not knowing what new catastrophe threatened,
brought Mr. Somerville and the almost inanimate women with them,
leaving to their fate those who, like Boyle, were unable to move. Some
of the mob rushed up the bridge companion; others made for the after
ladders used only by sailors; others, again, swung themselves to the
spar deck by the rails and awning standards. Even before Courtenay
could reach the scene, both the second and third officers were stabbed,
this time mortally. He saw one of the infuriated mutineers heave the
third officer's body overboard--a final quittance for some injury
previously received.