They started up, and waved their hats, and cried aloud. But the wind carried their voices to leeward, and the brig staggered on.
They ran up their little signal of distress; but still the ship staggered on.
Then the miserable men shook hands all round, and gave themselves up for lost.
But, at this moment, the brig hoisted a vivid flag all stripes and stars, and altered her course a point or two.
She crossed the boat's track a mile ahead, and her people looked over the bulwarks, and waved their hats to encourage those tossed and desperate men.
Having thus given them the weather-gage, the brig hove to for them.
They ran down to her and crept under her lee; down came ropes to them, held by friendly hands, and friendly faces shone down at them. Eager grasps seized each as he went up the ship's side, and so, in a very short time, they sent the woman up, and the rest being all sailors and clever as cats, they were safe on board the whaling brig _Maria,_ Captain Slocum, of Nantucket, U. S.
Their log, compass and instruments were also saved.
The boat was cast adrift, and was soon after seen bottom upward on the crest of a wave.
The good Samaritan in command of the _Maria_ supplied them with dry clothes out of the ship's stores, good food, and medical attendance, which was much needed, their legs and feet being in a deplorable condition, and their own surgeon crippled. A southeasterly gale induced the American skipper to give Cape Horn a wide berth, and the _Maria_ soon found herself three degrees south of that perilous coast. There she encountered field-ice. In this labyrinth they dodged and worried for eighteen days, until a sudden chop in the wind gave the captain a chance, of which he promptly availed himself; and in forty hours they sighted Terra del Fuego.
During this time the rescued crew, having recovered from the effects of their hardships, fell into the work of the ship, and took their turns with the Yankee seamen. The brig was short-handed; but now, trimmed and handled by a full crew with the _Proserpine's_ men, who were first-class seamen, and worked with a will, because work was no longer a duty, she exhibited a speed the captain had almost forgotten was in the craft. Now speed at sea means economy, for every day added to a voyage is so much off the profits. Slocum was part owner of the vessel, and shrewdly alive to the value of the seamen. When about three hundred miles south of Buenos Ayres, Wylie proposed that they should be landed there, from whence they might be transshipped to a vessel bound for home.
This was objected to by Slocum, on the ground that, by such a deviation from his course, he must lose three days, and the port dues at Buenos Ayres were heavy.
Wylie undertook that the house of Wardlaw & Son should indemnify the brig for all expenses and losses incurred.
Still the American hesitated; at last he honestly told Wylie he wished to keep the men; he liked them, they liked him. He had sounded them, and they had no objection to join his ship and sign articles for a three years' whaling voyage, provided they did not thereby forfeit the wages to which they would be entitled on reaching Liverpool. Wylie went forward and asked the men if they would take service with the Yankee captain. All but three expressed their desire to do so; these three had families in England, and refused. The mate gave the others a release, and an order on Wardlaw & Co. for their full wages for the voyage; then they signed articles with Captain Slocum, and entered the American Mercantile Navy.
Two days after this they sighted the high lands at the mouth of the Rio de la Plata at 10 P.M., and lay to for a pilot. After three hours' delay they were boarded by a pilot-boat, and then began to creep into the port.
The night was very dark, and a thin white fog lay on the water.
Wylie was sitting on the taffrail and conversing with Slocum, when the lookout forward sung out, "Sail ho!"
Another voice almost simultaneously yelled out of the fog, "Port your helm!"
Suddenly out of the mist, and close aboard the _Maria,_ appeared the hull and canvas of a large ship. The brig was crossing her course, and her great bowsprit barely missed the brig's mainsail. It stood for a moment over Wylie's head. He looked up, and there was the figure-head of the ship looming almost within his reach. It was a colossal green woman; one arm extended grasped a golden harp, the other was pressed to her head in the attitude of holding back her wild and flowing hair. The face seemed to glare down upon the two men. In another moment the monster, gliding on, just missing the brig, was lost in the fog.
"That was a narrow squeak," said Slocum.
Wylie made no answer, but looked into the darkness after the vessel.
He had recognized her figure-head.
It was the _Shannon!_
