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W. Clark Russell: Stevens

Her trust inspired me with new energy. To save them I was now ready to play any game whatever with Stevens, who was the leader of the mutineers. Our boatswain, who had not wished to join them, but to save his life had done so, was on my side. It was he who told me that Stevens was intending to scuttle the ship before they took to the boats, and so leave me and the passengers to our fate.

We planned to frustrate him. By this time we had taken Miss Robertson into our confidence. One night the boatswain apparently fell overboard and was drowned; but he had not fallen overboard--it was a box of tenpenny nails, which I had thrown over the side. This was the night before that day when Stevens went below and bored the auger holes which were to do for the ship; but as fast as Stevens bored a hole the boatswain, who had been hiding below for that very thing, followed and plugged it up.

Thinking he had scuttled the ship, Stevens came on deck and led the crew to the boats, grinning evilly at Miss Robertson and myself as he did so. They had not rowed far from the ship when the boatswain showed himself on deck. Stevens saw him. "We've been tricked!" he cried, and headed back for the ship. The wind was rising at the time, but there was not enough way yet on the ship to outrun the boats. They tried to board us by the main chains. As they did, the boatswain with a handspike and I with a revolver killed or hurled back into the sea all but one of them. That one was not so bad as the others, and we saved him to help work on the ship. Throughout the fight Miss Robertson, who had been gaining strength with every hour, held the wheel so that the ship should not be caught aback and the spars come down on us. We had to work the ship to the nearest land; but the increasing wind made it dangerous, with our meager crew, to keep sail on her. We worked like dogs to reduce sail, but the wind became too much for us. It came on us like a solid wall; the seas rolled to our tops. Spars cracked and hung down over our decks. Only after the most exhausting toil did we manage to clear away the most dangerous of the broken spars. In the height of it poor Mr. Robertson died. I read the eleventh chapter of St. John over his body. In time the wind abated; but the sea, continuing to tumble and roar, strained our ship so that she sprang a leak. There were not enough to us to keep her pumped out. We pumped till our arms fell to our sides, but of no avail. When the water was to our main chains we took to the boats; and it was then, when we believed we were doomed to die, that Mary Robertson and I confessed our love for each other, she the daughter of a wealthy man and I a poor, penniless sailor.

The sun was setting; the sky, far to the north and south, a golden color; the sea was a purple glare, the heavens a tender green and blue; and while we were gazing on all this glory the ship went down.

That night, before the rough seas could swallow us, a steamer picked us up and took us home.