Chapter 37

Once More They Take To The Chamois

Try the pumps. We dropped the sinker, and found the Parki bleeding at
every pore. Up from her well, the water, spring-like, came bubbling,
pure and limpid as the water of Saratoga. Her time had come. But by
keeping two hands at the pumps, we had no doubt she would float till
daylight; previous to which we liked not to abandon her.

The interval was employed in clanging at the pump-breaks, and
preparing the Chamois for our reception. So soon as the sea
permitted, we lowered it over the side; and letting it float under
the stern, stowed it with water and provisions, together with various
other things, including muskets and cutlasses.

Shortly after daylight, a violent jostling and thumping under foot
showed that the water, gaining rapidly in the, hold, spite of all
pumping, had floated the lighter casks up-ward to the deck, against
which they were striking.

Now, owing to the number of empty butts in the hold, there would have
been, perhaps, but small danger of the vessel's sinking outright--all
awash as her decks would soon be--were it not, that many of her
timbers were of a native wood, which, like the Teak of India, is
specifically heavier than water. This, with the pearl shells on
board, counteracted the buoyancy of the casks.

At last, the sun--long waited for--arose; the Parki meantime sinking
lower and lower.

All things being in readiness, we proceeded to embark from the wreck,
as from a wharf.

But not without some show of love for our poor brigantine.

To a seaman, a ship is no piece of mechanism merely; but a creature
of thoughts and fancies, instinct with life. Standing at her
vibrating helm, you feel her beating pulse. I have loved ships, as I
have loved men.

To abandon the poor Parki was like leaving to its fate something that
could feel. It was meet that she should the decently and bravely.

All this thought the Skyeman. Samoa and I were in the boat, calling
upon him to enter quickly, lest the vessel should sink, and carry us
down in the eddies; for already she had gone round twice. But cutting
adrift the last fragments of her broken shrouds, and putting her
decks in order, Jarl buried his ax in the splintered stump of the
mainmast, and not till then did he join us.

We slowly cheered, and sailed away.

Not ten minutes after, the hull rolled convulsively in the sea; went
round once more; lifted its sharp prow as a man with arms pointed for
a dive; gave a long seething plunge; and went down.

Many of her old planks were twice wrecked; once strown upon ocean's
beach; now dropped into its lowermost vaults, with the bones of
drowned ships and drowned men.

Once more afloat in our