Chapter XVII


But their difficulties were not surmounted--the fire now had
communicated to the main-deck, and burst out of the port-holes
amidships--and the raft which had been forming alongside was obliged
to be drifted astern, where it was more exposed to the swell. This
retarded their labour, and, in the meantime, the fire was making rapid
progress; the mainmast, which had long been burning, fell over the
side with the lurching of the vessel, and the flames out of the
main-deck ports soon showed their points above the bulwarks,
while volumes of smoke were poured in upon the upper deck,
almost suffocating the numbers which were crowded there; for all
communication with the fore-part of the ship had been, for some time,
cut off by the flames, and everyone had retreated aft. The women and
children were now carried on to the poop; not only to remove them
farther from the suffocating smoke, but that they might be lowered
down to the raft from the stern. It was about four o'clock in the morning when all was ready, and by
the exertions of Philip and the seamen, notwithstanding the swell,
the women and children were safely placed on the raft, where it was
considered that they would be less in the way, as the men could
relieve each other in pulling when they were tired. After the women and children had been lowered down, the troops were
next ordered to descend by the ladders; some few were lost in the
attempt, falling under the boat's bottom and not reappearing; but
two-thirds of the men were safely put in the berths they were ordered
to take by Krantz, who had gone down to superintend this important
arrangement. Such had been the vigilance of Philip, who had requested
Captain Barentz to stand over the spirit-room hatch, with pistols,
until the smoke on the main-deck rendered the precaution unnecessary,
that not a single person was intoxicated, and to this might be
ascribed the order and regularity which had prevailed during this
trying scene. But before one-third of the soldiers had descended by
the stern ladder, the fire burst out of the stern windows with a
violence that nothing could withstand; spouts of vivid flame extended
several feet from the vessel, roaring with the force of a blow-pipe;
at the same time, the flames burst through all the after-ports of the
main-deck, and those remaining on board found themselves encircled
with fire, and suffocated with smoke and heat. The stern ladders were
consumed in a minute and dropped into the sea; the boats which had
been receiving the men were obliged, also, to back astern from the
intense heat of the flames; even those on the raft shrieked as they
found themselves scorched by the ignited fragments which fell on them
as they were enveloped in an opaque cloud of smoke, which hid from
them those who still remained on the deck of the vessel. Philip
attempted to speak to those on board, but he was not heard. A scene
of confusion took place which ended in great loss of life. The only
object appeared to be who should first escape; though, except by
jumping overboard, there was no escape. Had they waited, and (as
Philip would have pointed out to them) have one by one thrown
themselves into the sea, the men in the boats were fully prepared
to pick them up; or had they climbed out to the end of the lateen
mizen-yard which was lowered down, they might have descended safely by
a rope, but the scorching of the flames which surrounded them and the
suffocation from the smoke was overpowering, and most of the soldiers
sprang over the taffrail at once, or as nearly so as possible. The
consequence was that there were thirty or forty in the water at the
same time, and the scene was as heart-rending as it was appalling; the
sailors in the boats dragging them in as fast as they could--the women
on the raft, throwing to them loose garments to haul them in; at one
time a wife shrieking as she saw her husband struggling and sinking
into eternity;--at another, curses and execrations from the swimmer
who was grappled with by the drowning man, and dragged with him under
the surface. Of eighty men who were left of the troops on board at the
time of the bursting out of the flames from the stern windows, but
twenty-five were saved. There were but few seamen left on board with
Philip, the major part having been employed in making the raft or
manning the three boats; those who were on board remained by his side,
regulating their motions by his. After allowing full time for the
soldiers to be picked up, Philip ordered the men to climb out to the
end of the lateen yard which hung on the taffrail, and either to lower
themselves down on the raft if it was under, or to give notice to the
boats to receive them. The raft had been dropped farther astern by the
seamen, that those on board of it might not suffer from the smoke and
heat; and the sailors, one after another, lowered themselves down
and were received by the boats. Philip desired Captain Barentz to go
before him, but the captain refused. He was too much choked with smoke
to say why, but no doubt but that it would have been something in
praise of the _Vrow Katerina_. Philip then climbed out; he was
followed by the captain, and they were both received into one of the
boats. The rope which had hitherto held the raft to the ship, was now cast
off, and it was taken in by the boats; and in a short time the _Vrow
Katerina_ was borne to leeward of them; and Philip and Krantz now made
arrangements for the better disposal of the people. The sailors were
almost all put into boats, that they might relieve one another in
pulling; the remainder were placed on the raft, along with the
soldiers, the women, and the children. Notwithstanding that the boats
were all as much loaded as they could well bear, the numbers on the
raft were so great that it sunk nearly a foot under water when the
swell of the sea poured upon it; but stanchions and ropes to support
those on board had been fixed, and the men remained at the sides,
while the women and children were crowded together in the middle. As soon as these arrangements were made, the boats took the raft in
tow, and just as the dawn of day appeared, pulled in the direction of
the land. The _Vrow Katerina_ was, by this time, one volume of flame; she had
drifted about half a mile to leeward, and Captain Barentz, who was
watching her as he sat in the boat with Philip, exclaimed--"Well,
there goes a lovely ship, a ship that could do everything but
speak--I'm sure that not a ship in the fleet would have made such a
bonfire as she has--does she not burn beautifully--nobly? My poor
_Vrow Katerina_! perfect to the last, we never shall see such a ship
as you again! Well, I'm glad my father did not live to see this sight,
for it would have broken his heart, poor man." Philip made no reply, he felt a respect even for Captain Barentz's
misplaced regard for the vessel. They made but little way, for the
swell was rather against them, and the raft was deep in the water.