BEFORE Tamate left Motu-motu for the Fly River he went to Australia. The Harrier—a little ship that took them from village to village in New Guinea—was broken and battered by the wild waves that surged on the shores of the island. But she had become so useful that the workers in New Guinea could not do without something in her stead while she was in dock under repair. Mr. Chalmers went to get another boat to do her work.
The Harrier crossed safely from New Guinea to the coast of Australia through stormy seas. She came to the great Barrier Reef that lies along the shore of that part of Australia. At some parts the reef is more than fifty miles out to sea, at others it runs almost close to the rocks of the shore. It has openings through which ships may enter the deep water within it. The Harrier made for one of these some distance north of Cooktown and entered it safely.
Although the night was stormy, and the wind against them, the crew were in great spirits, and sang “Homeward Bound” as they worked. They thought of their wives and the other friends who would welcome them in port. It was Thursday evening, and now that they were safe within the Barrier Reef they hoped to enter the harbour next morning.
But the weather was against them. Though they carried sail all night, they found when morning came that they were very little farther south than they had been the night before. They could not sail straight into Cooktown. They had to tack backwards and forwards between the shore and the reef. The wind was so strong that it carried away some of the Harrier’s sails. The anchor was let go beside Three Islands, and the ship lay there till repairs were finished.
At four o’clock on Friday afternoon she set sail again. In the evening the captain began to hope that if he tacked once more out towards the reef he might bring her into Cooktown harbour with the return tack.
Tamate was in bed and half asleep. He heard the captain come down and go to the chart-room. Could there be any danger? He was too sleepy to trouble about that. A few minutes afterwards he was dreaming of striking a rock—bump, thump, scrape!
But was he dreaming? He started up wide-awake. In a minute he was dressed and on deck.
All hands were at work. The sails were hauled down. Then the ship’s boat was launched. She carried an anchor out to deep water. As soon as it held, the sailors turned the windlass with all their strength. They hoped to heave the Harrier off the rocks; but no, she was firm. All night long each wave drove her against the reef. As the tide fell she leaned over to one side more and more till her crew could scarcely move from place to place on her deck. There was much work to do. They had to drag on deck all the heavy things that were on board, so that if she righted again with the evening tide they might throw them into the sea. They hoped that if she was as light as possible they might heave her off into deep water again.
All day long on Saturday they made signals of distress. But the hours wore on and there was no sign of help. They were out of the channel in which ships sailed for Cooktown.
The ship righted with the evening tide. Over went everything of iron and all heavy cargo into the sea. The men at the windlass worked till it seemed that the anchor-hawser would break. But the Harrier was too firmly fixed; she would not move.
The sea was still wild on Sunday morning. No one knew if the ship’s boat could live in it. Yet if the boat did not go to seek for help, no one might see them and then they would all be drowned. They could not tell whether it was more dangerous to go in the boat or to stay on the ship. The Harrier was over on her side again. Before the boat was sent off the sailors slid and scrambled along the sloping deck and cut the stays. Then the masts were sawn partly through on the side of the ship that was uppermost. Every one climbed to the high edge of the deck, away from all the ropes and rigging, and waited. A great wave came. Crack, crack, went the masts, and away into the sea went masts and rigging that the ship might have a better chance of holding together till help could come.
Then the boat was manned. It was not easy to get into her down the side of the Harrier, whilst the waves dashed her wildly hither and thither.
“What are you doing?” shouted Tamate, still on the deck of the Harrier, to a sailor who was diving down to the hold searching for something.
“Looking for the poor old cat, sir.”
He found him, too, and puss was dropped through the spray into the boat.
Then Tamate found another pet, a young cockatoo, half dead with fear, and screeching at the pitch of his voice.
“What about ‘cockie’?” he said.
“Oh, we save him. He go in boat!”
So the boat with her strange crew rowed away. After fighting with the waves for two hours she reached the Three Islands. On one of the islands they found some empty huts that had been used by divers. There they lit a fire. Then they set fire to a patch of long grass on the island, in the hope that some passing ship might see the blaze.
The cat and the cockatoo were very funny. Puss had been so long at sea that he hated the dry land as much as most cats hate water. He was brought to land, but at each step on the sand he lifted his paw and shook it, and then suddenly he darted back through the shallow water and scrambled into the boat!
Puss was dropped into the boat
“Cockie” was miserable. He stood helplessly where he was set, and called for one of the sailors, his special friend. When he was taken to the fire he soon cheered up, but he would not stay alone even beside the fire. He looked very comical, with his draggled feathers, as he followed the sailors and scolded them if they left him.
On Monday morning a ship came near. She picked up those on the island and then steamed for the wreck. Even after she got close to it, it took hours to fetch all those still on board the Harrier from her to the steamer.
When at last they steamed away towards Cooktown, even the sadness they felt for the loss of their ship was forgotten for a little as they saw the harbour ahead of them and knew that they were safe.