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Title: Morley Ashton, Volume 2 (of 3)
A Story of the Sea
Author: James Grant
Release Date: December 20, 2020 [EBook #64081]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORLEY ASHTON, VOLUME 2 (OF 3) ***
Produced by Al Haines
MORLEY ASHTON:
A Story of the Sea.
BY
JAMES GRANT,
AUTHOR OF "THE ROMANCE OF WAR," "FAIRER THAN A FAIRY," ETC.
In Three Volumes.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, W.C.
1876.
[All rights reserved.]
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS,
CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
MARIQUITA ESCUDERO
CHAPTER II.
THE CREW OF THE "HERMIONE" DISCONTENTED
CHAPTER III.
ROSE AND DR. HERIOT
CHAPTER IV.
MAN OVERBOARD
CHAPTER V.
THE LIVID FACE
CHAPTER VI.
WHAT THE DOCTOR OVERHEARD IN THE FORECASTLE BUNKS
CHAPTER VII.
MEASURES FOR DEFENCE CONCERTED
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SAIL TO WINDWARD
CHAPTER IX.
THE STORM
CHAPTER X.
THE FOUR CASTAWAYS
CHAPTER XI.
CAPTAIN HAWKSHAW MAKES A DISCOVERY TO LEEWARD
CHAPTER XII.
DR. HERIOT'S PATIENTS
CHAPTER XIII.
CAPTAIN HAWKSHAW's TROUBLES INCREASE
CHAPTER XIV.
HAWKSHAW TURNS NURSE
CHAPTER XV.
A BITER BITTEN
CHAPTER XVI.
DREAD
CHAPTER XVII.
UNMASKED
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE EXPULSION
CHAPTER XIX.
THE MEETING
CHAPTER XX.
THE CORPSE-LICHT
CHAPTER XXI.
OUT OF SCYLLA AND INTO CHARYBDIS
CHAPTER XXII.
FOUR BELLS IN THE DOG-WATCH
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE CRISIS AT LAST
CHAPTER XXIV.
HOW THE SHIP BROACHED TO
CHAPTER XXV.
THE CABIN ATTACKED
MORLEY ASHTON.
CHAPTER I.
MARIQUITA ESCUDERO.
After the breathless calm of the past day, the heat of the cabin was
intense. The lamp was trimmed and lit by the steward, but the
skylight was still kept open.
"Awfully hot, Morley, is it not?" said Tom Bartelot, as he threw off
his jacket.
"Yes; and the heat makes one so thirsty, too!"
"I can't give you iced champagne, as in the gardens at Rio; but the
steward has bitter beer, beaujolais, and potash water, with grog for
you, Morrison, which I know you prefer; and you, too, Noah, my old
Triton. And now let us to work, and overhaul the old man's papers."
Morrison, who had been scanning over the manuscript, helped himself
to a glass of grog mechanically, without taking his eyes from the
writing. Noah Gawthrop, who had been specially invited below, in
virtue of the part he had borne in the past day's episode, received a
jorum of stiff grog from the steward, and seated himself near the
bulkhead, uncomfortably, on the extreme edge of a sea-chest, in
preference to the well-cushioned locker, which he evidently
considered too fine for his tarry trousers.
Morley and Bartelot were each furnished with a glass of beaujolais
and potash water. The stars were visible through the open skylight,
paling away into the blue ether overhead, when Morrison began to
read, translating the recluse's Spanish into tolerable English, as he
made himself master of the subject; the sole interruptions, as he
proceeded, being an occasional interjection from Noah, such as "Dash
my buttons!" "Smite my timbers!" varied by "Darn my eyes! the
ragamuffin! the regular-built old Bluebeard!" followed by a hard slap
of his hand upon his own thigh; though much of what he heard proved a
sore puzzle to him, especially the religious invocations, the
outbursts of remorse, and bitter self-reproaches, which we omit in
the rehearsal of his story.
The manuscript proceeded thus:
"I pray the reader hereof, if he be a good Catholic, to say a novena,
or nine days' prayer, for the repose of my sinful soul; and I beg of
the first Christian man who shall give my remains interment to place
a cross at the end of my grave.
"Let whoever beholds these poor remains profit by the sad spectacle
they exhibit, even as the recluse, Brother Pedro, has sought to
profit by the prayers, penance, and mortification of twenty years
spent in this solitude, while striving to atone for the errors of
forty spent in the world as Don Pedro Zuares Miguel de Barradas.
"I was a man of fortune in New Spain; my forefathers were of the
purest blood--the boasted blue blood of those who dwelt by the Ebro,
without taint of Goth, of Moor, or Jew--and my more immediate
predecessors, men who came with Hernan Cortez, of Medellin, and
Francis Pizarro, of Troquillo, to conquer the new world which
Columbus had given to Castile and Leon.
"My direct ancestor, Don Miguel de Barradas, came from San Pedro de
Arlanza, in the district of Burgos. A near kinsman of Hernan Cortez,
he was one of the first who settled on the table-land of Anahuac,
founding one of those powerful families which flourish there, and who
also possess all the sea-coast, from La Vera Cruz to San Luis de
Potosi.
"In power and right of action, we were free and unfettered, as the
Spanish nobility at home. No agrarian law could there force us to
sell our vast estates, if we neglected to cultivate them; and our
farmers we could harass, oppress, cajole, or expel at our pleasure.
"Proud of my descent from one of those who conquered Tlascala and
Tenochtitlan in 1521, no man was more vain of his old Castilian
pedigree than I; yet there came a time when I joined the patriots,
and fought for the separation of Peru from the mother country, and,
with my own blood, sought to cement the foundation of the free United
States of South America.
"Prior to my entering upon that career of usefulness, my objects in
life were very different.
"I was possessed of vast wealth; I had been well educated and highly
accomplished by my parents, at whose desire I had travelled over all
Europe, and had visited its capitals, to the improvement of my taste,
though but little to the advantage of my morals.
"I was possessed of a person that was considered handsome. I deemed
myself a model and mirror of honour, and had a spirit ever high and
haughty, but at times crafty and ferocious. My character was full of
inconsistencies; thus, wherever I went, I became involved in quarrels
on frivolous pretexts and points of honour--quarrels, which
invariably ended in duels, and in these I was generally the victor,
whether with sword or with pistol, for I was skilful in the use of
both.
"Within this shadow was a darker shade!
"No man's wife or daughter--even were he my best and dearest
friend--could be safe from my artful, insidious, and too often
successful advances; for to see any woman, possessed of even moderate
attractions, was to love her at once.
"Success in each instance gave new courage and address, and led to
success in others; thus my whole time was spent in weaving plans and
intrigues, and the chief aim of my existence was to feel myself the
conqueror. Thus to flame succeeded flame, so rapid were my fancies,
so insatiable my desires, that I rejoiced in the idea of making three
or four assignations with as many different beauties in one day.
"Opposition in some, the tears, the reproaches, and the despair of
others, added but piquancy to this pursuit of the innocent and
unwary, while my hand with the small sword was so skilful and steady,
my aim with the pistol so deadly and true, that relations and rivals
sought to punish me in vain, though thrice I escaped miraculously
their attempts at deliberate assassination.
"Of all whom I deceived none do I mourn more in this time of
repentance and bitterness, than Mariquita Escudero, whose image and
memory fill me yet--even at the distance of many years--with
inexpressible sorrow.
"She was the only daughter of Miguel Escudero, a worthy old farmer of
mine, near Orizaba--that mighty volcano, whose summit is 1,300 feet
higher than the Peak of Teneriffe, and which serves as a landmark to
all mariners bound for La Vera Cruz.
"Though tainted, as we deemed it, with the Mexican blood of her
mother, who was an octoroon of a native tribe, Mariquita inherited
from her father good old Castilian blood, and was a girl far
exceeding all whom I had met or known in loveliness and goodness, in
virtue and in purity.
"She had heard of my evil reputation, and warned by common rumour--it
may be by her parents, or inspired by native modesty--she always drew
her mantilla close, and shunned or avoided me, when I visited Orizaba.
"Piqued by her coldness and inflamed by her beauty, which was of a
very remarkable kind, I relinquished, or forgot for the time, every
other amour, to engage in this new one, proceeding to work warily,
and with all the subtlety of the fiend I was then.
"Though I frequently visited the _granja_ (farm) of old Miguel
Escudero, I ceased to notice, save by a casual bow, the presence of
Mariquita; but strove assiduously to gain the friendship of her
brother, Juan, a handsome and high-spirited young man, whom, as he
was a deadly shot and good swordsman, I thought it would be as well
to remove from the vicinity of my operations.
"I might easily have had him taken off, by distributing a few dollars
among the bandidos of the Barranca Secca; but, though wicked enough,
I was not sufficiently a villain for that, and so preferred to
procure for him a commission as an _alferez_ (ensign) in the guards
of the castle of San Juan de Ulloa, an honour which, being so
unusual, when conferred on the son of a humble _grangero_, or farmer,
filled the soul of Miguel with gratitude, and Juan with pride and joy.
"Not content with this, I appointed Escudero overseer of all my
estates, with an income of about five hundred pistoles per annum; so
my cold little beauty, the Senora Mariquita, had now a horse and
mounted groom when she went abroad, instead of a mule, as before, and
a barefooted negro runner.
"These presents--this unwonted patronage--passed well enough as
rewards to an ancient and faithful adherent of our house, for old
Miguel Escudero had been an especial confidant of my father, and was
descended from one of the twenty men-at-arms whom my ancestor, Don
Miguel, had brought from San Pedro de Arlanza in Old Castile. He
regarded me with a friendship, a love, that was almost paternal, and
now pressed me to visit him at the handsome residence which my favour
and bounty had conferred upon him; so I went to spend three months
under the same roof with Mariquita, on the slopes of the vast Pic
d'Orizaba, to hunt the wild cattle, the elks, the buffaloes, and
cabri, and the grisly black bears, in the ever green forests and
lovely savannahs that spread away from thence towards the Rio de
Carraderas; and, nightly, it was my joy to lay the spoils of the
chase at the feet of Mariquita, in compliment to her as the mistress
of her father's house, for such she was--luckily, for the furtherance
of my project, her watchful mother having been recently removed by
death.
"I now saw more of her than I could ever have done by periodical
visits, and my passion grew greater by our intimacy, for the girl was
a wondrously lovely brunette, though her skin was exceedingly fair.
The form of her hands and feet, the contour of her head, and the soft
luxuriant masses of her ripply black hair, were all perfect; and her
eyes, large, dark, clear, and liquid, were beautiful, and ever
varying in expression.
"I was too artful, too well trained in the ways of vice, to seem more
than simply pleased with the society of Mariquita. I was
scrupulously attentive to her at table and elsewhere. If she
mounted, my hand and knee were at her service; but when dismounting,
she always preferred the attendance of her father, or her old negro
groom, as if determined that no hand of mine should ever touch her
slender waist.
"We occasionally accompanied each other on the guitar. Songs of love
were long, long avoided, but they came at last. I remember the first
we ventured on--'Love's First Kiss,' an old song of Burgos, beginning:
"'A aquel caballero madre.'
And then came a time, too, when I saw that Mariquita ceased to avoid
me--a time when her cheek flushed palpably, and when her lovely eyes
dilated and sparkled at my approach with emotions of pleasure there
were no concealing.
"In me she beheld her father's patron and benefactor, her brother's
friend; so gratitude soon led the way to love.
"I beheld the growth of this secret influence with exultation, yet
never spoke of love. Inspired by my master, the devil, I was too
wary yet to mar my game until she loved me irretrievably and deeply.
My efforts, my passion, were about to be rewarded at last!
"For good or for evil, to what is a man most indebted for success in
life? To genius, birth, education, or perseverance? To none of
these, but simply to success itself.
"Alas! she was too young, too tender, and too artless--too full of
keen Spanish and generous Indian impulses, to withstand me; and after
a time I saw that she burned with a passion equal to my own, which I
still pretended to suppress within me, and to veil under an outward
aspect of indifference and respect.
"'The first symptom of true love in a young man is timidity; in a
girl it is boldness,' says a writer. 'This will surprise, and yet
nothing is more simple: the two sexes have a tendency to approach,
and each assumes the qualities of the other.'
"This strange analysis of the human heart was fully realised in the
case of Mariquita.
"One day we were riding at the foot of the vast Cordillera, through
those odoriferous groves, the leaves of which are used for perfuming
the chocolate. We had contrived to miss our black groom, who had
dismounted in a part of the wood, to examine a shoe of his horse; so,
as the atmosphere of noon was intensely hot and breathless, we sought
a shady and sequestered spot, where, under the cool, humid, and
umbrageous forest leaves, the smilax or sarsaparilla roots, the
liquidambar, the choacun root, and the balsam of tolu were growing in
luxuriance, and where the wild cotton tree, and the broad-leaved
tobacco plant, the yellow gourd, and the purple grape, all formed a
jungle together.
"Languid and panting with the heat of the day, the length of our
ride, and, inspired by the pleasure she now felt in my society,
Mariquita never looked so lovely; and now, when praying that she
would alight, strange to say, I spoke timidly and with a
wildly-beating heart; but, to my surprise, she consented, and held
out her hand with a delightful smile.
"As I lifted her from the saddle, she threw back her long low veil,
and the heavy masses of her perfumed hair fell upon my cheek.
"She leant heavily forward in my arms, and, instead of placing her on
the ground, I pressed her tenderly to my breast, with my lips
trembling on her forehead. Then I murmured in her ear:
"'Mariquita, _mi querida_--Marguerita, my idol--I love you--love you
dearly! Will you pardon me; will you permit it?'
"She did not reply, but her head sank upon my shoulder, for the
crisis had come! Her lovely face was close to mine, and I felt her
breath upon my cheek. The colour had left hers, for those emotions
which cause some women to blush make others grow pale; but her
half-closed eyes sparkled with passion and joy under their long black
lashes, and her rosy lips were parted by a divine smile.
"I felt that I had triumphed; that Mariquita, the once proud, cold,
and reserved Mariquita, loved me, for that emotion which had made me
at first seem timid now made her actually bold, and her sweet lips
sought mine, it may be but too readily, in the first glow of her
girlish ardour.
"She gave me one long and passionate kiss, and then, without
assistance, she sprang from my arms to her saddle, saying, with
mingled smiles and tears:
"'We have both been foolish--very foolish, Senor Don Pedro, but let
us begone.'
"'Mariquita, consider the heat--your fatigue!' I urged.
"'We are some miles from the _granja_, and have first the road to
find,' she replied hurriedly.
"With her horse's reins and her whip, she had resumed something of
her former self, but the memory of my kisses yet burned upon her brow
and lips. I endeavoured, in vain, to lead the conversation back to
the sudden impulse which the simple act of dismounting had given to
both our hearts.
"I begged of her to moderate the pace of her horse, as there was
plenty of time for us to reach home; but she would not listen to me,
and seemed to blush with anger now at the memory of what had passed
between us; yet little cared I for that, felt assured that we had
passed the Rubicon, that this beautiful girl loved me, and that the
time I had spent with old Miguel Escudero, in rambling among his
plantations, where the negroes hoed the sugar, planted tobacco, and
gathered the cotton tufts, had not been spent in vain.
"Mariquita did not avoid me, so for several days after this I never
missed an opportunity, especially when old Senor Escudero was not
present, of pressing my suit, and giving her assurances of my
unalterable love! Unalterable! Oh, _mal hay as tu_, Pedro de
Barradas, into how many charming ears had those same words been
poured, and in the same tender accents, too!
"But Mariquita, who had become more mistress of herself, always heard
me with composure, and with a bearing unlike that she had exhibited
in the wood; but I could see that the simplest remark, or most casual
tone of my voice, made her heart vibrate with pleasure, and her
colour deepen.
"One evening we were standing together at an open window, which was
shaded by a vine-covered verandah, and faced the usually flaming
summit of the volcano of Orizaba. It was wonderfully still on that
occasion; a column of thin smoke only ascended from it to the very
zenith. The evening was lovely, and the sun's farewell rays were
gilding the mighty summit of the cone; all was calm and quiet, save
in our hearts, which beat tumultuously. I drew closer to Mariquita,
and as she stood before me, I passed my arms round her, kissed the
back of her delicate neck tenderly, and whispered:
"'How long shall I speak to you of love, Mariquita?'
"'As long as you please, Senor Don Pedro,' she replied, with a tender
smile, as she half turned round her head.
"'Call me Pedro, my beloved one, without the ceremonious don--and
senor, too, oh, fie!'
"'_Bueno--Pedro mi querida._'
"'Sweeter still!' I exclaimed, in a low voice.
"'Well?'
"'Well, dearest Mariquita; how long shall we speak of love?'
"'As long as you please.'
"'Ah! feel how my heart beats. I ask how long in vain?'
"'Long enough, senor,' said she, with a pretty pout.
"'_Senor!_'
"'Yes, senor, unless--unless----'
She paused.
"'What?'
"'You speak of marriage, too,' she replied, suddenly unclasping my
hands, which were tenderly folded round her slender waist.
"'Do you love me?'
"'Do I love you?' she repeated, reproachfully, turning her full,
clear, and glorious eyes to mine, while throwing back her veil and
the masses of her silky hair together; 'you know that _I do love
you_, Pedro, fondly, deeply, passionately, for you have won that
which never belonged, and never shall belong, to another--my heart.'
"'Beloved Mariquita!' I exclaimed, and pressed her to my breast in a
long and mutual embrace, 'and you will be mine--mine?'
"'At the foot of the altar, Pedro--at the foot of the altar alone,'
she whispered, with a heart that swelled with love, and with dark
eyes steeped in languor.
"But vain are human resolves, even when made by a heart so pure and
guileless as that of Mariquita, when struggling with a passion so
deep and consuming; for with these very words on her lips she was
yielding; we were alone and undisturbed, and ere the sun's last rays
had faded from the cone of Orizaba, Mariquita had lost her honour!
* * * * *
"The hapless Mariquita! She loved me more than ever now. She clung
to me with all the strength of love, of sacrifice, and of despair.
"For days after this, on her knees, she besought me to marry her. I
would raise her, kiss and console her, and flatter, too--how weary
now the task!--flatter and pacify her, making countless promises and
professions, for I still loved her in my own selfish fashion; but I
shrunk from the idea of marriage with the daughter of one of my own
grangeros--one whose ancestors had been hewers of wood and drawers of
water to mine--a girl, moreover, who had the taint of native blood in
her veins!
"I, Pedro de Barradas, Knight of Santiago de Compostella, and Lord of
Anahuac, whom the proud daughters of the first men, and of the
noblest houses in New Spain, had failed to lure within the meshes of
matrimony, was not likely to mate with the daughter of Miguel
Escudero, however much I might love her, and however much she might
please my somewhat fastidious eye.
"I heard her many tender and pathetic entreaties--and once, too, her
wild threats of self-destruction, poniard in hand--that I would save
her from impending shame; but I was pitiless as the ocelot--the
tiger-cat that lurked in the woods of Orizaba--all the more pitiless
that I knew she fondly--yes, madly--loved me.
"Weary of the endless task of seeking to console one who would not
and could not be consoled, I quitted Orizaba for some months, as we
were planning the revolt against the mother country, a movement which
was to secure to me the captaincy of the great castle of San Juan, de
Ulloa, the citadel of La Vera Cruz, which mounts nearly 200 pieces of
cannon, and is the key of the whole province.
"During my absence and in the fulness of time, Mariquita had a son,
born in secrecy, amid tears, shame, and sorrow. She baptised it by
the name of Pedro, and sent him to a lonely puebla in the mountains
that overlook the Barranca Secca, to be nursed by one of my people.
This birth, all unknown alike to Miguel Escudero, whom I had
despatched on a political mission towards the shores of the Pacific,
and to his son, Juan, who was now a lieutenant of infantry at the
castle of San Juan de Ulloa.
"My passion for Mariquita still existed; her love for me was greater
than ever now, and she lived but for me, and in the hope that in
pity, if not for love, I would espouse her still, and these hopes I
was always wicked enough to fan; 'so man wrongs, and time avenges.'
"Completely in my power, surrounded by my toils, the victim of my
wiles, still loving me dearly and desperately, and still hoping for
the ultimate fulfilment of my thousand protestations, the poor girl
continued to meet me from time to time in a deserted sugar-mill on
the mountains of Orizaba, a secret intercourse that ended fatally for
her and for all, for another son, whom we named Zuares, was born, and
at the same time the whole affair came to the knowledge of Miguel
Escudero, who, though but a humble grangero, had all the pride of
birth, and more than the ideas of spotless honour, honesty, and
female purity, possessed by any grandee of old Castile.
"The poor old man's horror was beyond all description.
"To find that his daughter's honour had been lost, his hospitality so
infamously violated, his home disgraced, his prospects ruined, and by
me--ME, whom he had so loved and so respected, as his friend and
benefactor, was a mortal stab too deep to survive, and within an hour
after the revelation came upon him in all its stunning details, poor
Miguel Escudero had ceased to exist.
"He did not die by his own hand, he was too good and too religious a
man for such a terrible act; but sinking on the floor of his chamber,
he never moved again. He died of autopsy--paralysis of the heart!
"I was not present at this scene of horror, being, fortunately for
myself, in command of the great castle of San Juan de Ulloa.
"On the day of Corpus Christi, after having attended mass, I was
walking on that portion of the ramparts which faces the flats of
Gallega, accompanied by some of the officers of my staff, when the
young lieutenant, Juan Escudero, approached to inform me, in a voice
broken with grief, of his father's sudden death, and to request leave
of absence to attend his obsequies.
"My heart was struck with remorse, and grew sick with shame. I
placed my purse in his hand; I gave him my best horse, and bade him
begone to Orizaba with good speed; but I trembled like a craven in my
soul for the hour of his return.
"A few days passed, and the young lieutenant came back.
"I was walking alone on the same ramparts when I saw him steadily
approaching me. He was clad in his uniform, and his silver
epaulettes glittered in the sun. He had a band of crape on his right
arm, and another on the hilt of his sword--a soldier's simple
mourning for a lost parent, and, alas! a lost honour.
"He came straight up to me; his handsome face, so like the face of
Mariquita, was deadly pale; but the glare of wild hate shone in his
eyes, and his nether lip quivered spasmodically.
"'Senor Don Pedro de Barradas,' said he, saluting me, ceremoniously,
'I have the honour to confess the many services you have rendered my
family in the days when you were true to yourself and to us. For all
these I beg to thank you. But I have also to confess the many deep
wrongs you have done us, and I here brand you, before God and man, as
a villain and a coward, whom I have vowed to kill like a dog, here on
the ramparts of San Juan de Ulloa!'
"My heart sank, and my hand trembled.
"'Senor Teniente--Senor Escudero,' I began, in a rash and vague
attempt to explain or to extenuate; but the brother of Mariquita was
mad with ungovernable fury, and he rushed upon me, sword in hand.
"I knew that he would kill me without mercy, and that there was
nothing left for me but to defend my life to the utmost, and to do
this all my skill was requisite.
"I was the best swordsman in La Vera Cruz; but he was twenty years my
junior, young, active, and filled with just rage and indignation.
"Compelled to stand on my own defence, my sole object was to ward off
his cuts, to parry his thrusts, and to keep him at bay till the
castle guard came to separate us. I sought to disarm, and if driven
to sore extremity to wound him only; but while he was making a
desperate lunge at me, my sword entered his heart. I felt its hot
blood spout upon the blade, and pour through the hilt upon my hand,
as I flung my weapon down in grief and dismay.
"Juan threw up his hands, and uttered a wild cry. It was
'Mariquita,' as he fell dead on his face, at my feet.
"Long, long did a horror of these events oppress me. I buried him in
the church of the Augustine Friars, and had one hundred masses sung
for the repose of his soul--oh, who will say one for me!--I would
have made some effort to requite the living victim of my wickedness;
but now retribution came upon me.
"Mariquita was still living at her father's old _granja_, on the
borders of the Barranca Secca, in shame and seclusion, nursing her
children, Pedro and Zuares, who now bore the dishonoured name of
Barradas, and each of whom had, strange to say, a little red cross,
like that of Santiago, on his left shoulder, where their mother's
hand engraved it, lest the children should be lost.
"About a month after Juan's death, I was betrayed by some of his
friends into the hands of the troops of his Majesty Ferdinand VII.,
and was placed by them on board a vessel for conveyance to Spain,
where an ignominious death as a traitor awaited me.
"When passing near this isle, a heavy gale came on, and I fell
overboard. In such a sea, to save me was impossible; but a sailor
heard my shriek of despair, and cast over to me a hencoop.
"God, in his goodness, enabled me to reach it, and after drifting on
the dark ocean for more than an hour, I was cast ashore, and here
have I remained ever since, leading a life of piety and austerity, of
penance and of prayer, in the humble and earnest hope that this
imitation of the holy men of old may atone for the errors I committed
in the world as Don Pedro Zuares Miguel de Barradas.
"Rueguen a Dios por el."
Such was the substance of this strange confession, which we have
written out in a more readable and coherent form than Morrison found
it, and which throws a light on the parentage and origin of the two
dark seamen on board the _Hermione_; and as for the fate of the
hapless Mariquita, the reader has already learned it from Captain
Hawkshaw's unpleasant reminiscence of the Barranca Secca.
The evening of the next day saw the _Princess_ steering for the
north-western extremity of the island of Tristan d'Acunha. At nine
o' clock, Bartelot ordered a light to be hoisted at the end of the
foretopmast studdingsail boom, and a gun to be fired, as a signal for
a shore boat, which promptly came off from this remarkable place.
As he wanted fresh water, the captain continued to stand off and on
till dawn next day, when Morley, who had spent the morning watch in
successful fishing, had the gratification of seeing the sun rise on
the isle of Don Tristan d'Acunha.
Situated far amid the lonely waves of the Southern Atlantic, at the
distance of 1,500 miles from any continent, this lofty island has a
peak of 5,000 feet in height above the level of its beach. At dawn
it seemed like a cone of flame, shaded off by purple tints, and
towering amid a rose-coloured sea, whose depth is so vast that it far
exceeds even the height of Tristan's loftiest peak.
Two islands are near it: one is named the Inaccessible; the other,
the island of the Nightingale; but they are mere masses of wild
storm-beaten rock, against which the ocean rolls its masses of foam,
and above which, in the amber-tinted sky, a cloud of sea-hens,
petrels, and albatrosses wheel and flutter.
In the little town which held a British garrison when our imperial
captive pined in St. Helena, there is a mixed population of English
and Portuguese mulattoes, though the isle is described in a recent
gazetteer as being as desolate as when the Cavalier Tristan d'Acunha
traversed the southern sea with his high-pooped caravel, and gave the
place his name, in the first years of the sixteenth century.
Morley, Gawthrop, and three of the crew went ashore in the jolly-boat
to procure some fresh water and vegetables. Morrison followed in the
quarter-boat; both returned in about an hour, and after what they had
brought off was put on board, they were sent ahead with a warp to tow
the ship off the land, towards which a dangerous current had been
drifting her.
A fine breeze soon after sprang up; the _Princess_ bore away upon her
course, and ere midnight came down upon the sea, she had bade a last
farewell to the lofty isle of Tristan d'Acunha.
When next we see her on the ocean, we shall have something to narrate
very different from the hitherto peaceful and prosperous voyages of
Bartelot and his shipmates.
CHAPTER II.
THE CREW OF THE "HERMIONE" DISCONTENTED.
For days Captain Hawkshaw was haunted by the recollection of that
strange episode, the sinking corpse; whose features--seen through the
fevered medium of his own imagination and his guilty
conscience--seemed to assume the likeness of Morley Ashton, as they
went slowly down through the green, translucent sea, after Dr. Leslie
Heriot had attached the cannon-shot to its heels.
He accounted for the exclamation of horror that escaped him, by
saying to those in the boat that he felt a sudden qualm of sickness,
of disgust, or a giddiness; and his first resource when on board was
to Joe, the captain's steward, for his brandy bottle.
When he began to reason with himself, however, in a calmer moment, he
perceived the impossibility of the remains being those of Morley
Ashton, as no influence of current, tide, or wind could have drifted
them from the coast of Britain so far through the ocean as the South
Atlantic.
The idea was absurd--impossible!
Moreover, the drowned man had not been dead more than a week to all
appearance; and then his hands had grasped a life-buoy, evincing that
he must have fallen overboard from some ship, or been the victim of a
wreck.
When the impression of that affair began to wear away, his fears of
the two Barradas, and a recollection of the manner in which Pedro,
Bill Badger, the bulky Yankee, and others of the crew had insulted
him, resumed their sway; but after a time he began to take courage.
"What have I to fear from the Barradas? Nothing!" he would whisper
to himself, as if to gather comfort from the echo of his own
thoughts. "Suppose they denounce me to my friends--to Ethel--I have
simply to deny, and that is all. The story of the
padre--d----nation!--no, I mean of the Barranca Secca--I have already
told, and Master Zuares does not shine in that affair. Even to Ethel
it is nothing new, for I have related it more than once, to increase
her horror of the Barradas when the crisis comes."
A _crisis_ was coming, which the captain did not quite foresee!
"Even to Ethel it is nothing new--I can deny, deny, and defy them
all. 'Tis only my word against theirs."
This was all very well; but ere the voyage ended there occurred
several events, which alike put the captain's courage and resolution
to flight.
As the _Hermione_ approached the Cape of Good Hope, she encountered
alternate storms and calms, with weather so unusually cold for the
season, that Hawkshaw had a fair excuse for permitting his whiskers
and moustache to resume their wonted aspect of luxuriance, as he had
ceased to hope for concealment on board.
Though pretty well inured now, by their very protracted voyage, to
the discomforts of ship-life, Ethel and Rose Basset remained a good
deal in the cabin, especially the former, to avoid Hawkshaw's
attention, which were thus repressed by the presence of the captain,
when it was not his watch, of Mr. Quail, or her father, who preferred
to lie reading or lounging on the cabin locker, to facing on deck the
spoon-drift that flew over the lee quarter when the ship was going
free.
She found Adrian Manfredi, the young Italian mate, a pleasant
companion, for Rose rather absorbed the society of Dr. Heriot. He
was gentlemanly and well bred; he had seen much of the world, and her
preference for him was so decided, that Hawkshaw felt at times a pang
of jealous rage in his heart, which was in no way soothed when, in
the mate's hours of leisure, they took to reading together in
Italian, "I Promessi Sposi," the beautiful novel of Alessandro
Manzoni, from the neat little three-volume edition, printed at Lugano.
This emotion became all the more bitter after Ethel gave Manfredi a
handsome gold locket, to hold the hair of his little brother, "the
brave boy, Attilio," whose story he told in a previous chapter.
The young man was no doubt charmed by the beauty and society of a
sweet English girl like Ethel Basset; thus his voice became mellow
and soft whenever he addressed her, and his eyes sparkled with
admiration and pleasure whenever he saw her, but beyond this, no sign
of a deeper emotion escaped him. Perhaps he felt the folly or
futility of encouraging it.
On the other hand, Ethel's preference for him was greatly induced by
some real or imaginary resemblance which she saw, or thought she saw,
in his features to those of Morley Ashton; though Rose and her father
failed to perceive it, and Hawkshaw, who always trembled in his soul
at the young man's name, treated the idea with angry ridicule.
The sullenness and other growing peculiarities in the bearing of the
crew had been increasing, so that some would scarcely obey those
orders necessary for the working of the ship. Captain Phillips,
though full of anxiety for the probable issue, resolved to forbear
until a ship of war hove in sight, or until he could dismiss some and
put others in prison, if this state of matters still continued, when
the _Hermione_ hauled up for Table Bay.
One day Adrian Manfredi had charge of the deck.
The ship was running nearly fair before a fine topgallant breeze;
there was not much of a sea on, but the sky was lowering, and a great
gray bank of cloud was resting on the ocean to the northward, for
they were encountering regular Cape weather now.
Manfredi was conversing with Ethel from time to time, and she was
still busy with the last volume of "I Promessi Sposi," when one of
the crew, named Samuel Sharkey, a coarse, square stump of a fellow,
having great misshapen hands, a large and very ugly visage, came
deliberately aft, with a short black pipe in his mouth, and stood
near her, puffing with great coolness, and eyeing her with a very
admiring leer.
Ethel glanced at him uneasily, and removed to a seat nearer the
taffrail, for there was cool insolence in the man's sinister eyes and
bearing which alarmed her very much.
On this, Sharkey, the seaman, gave a peculiar whistle, to which Bill
Badger, the tall, ungainly Yankee, who was at the wheel, responded;
and these signals now attracted the attention of Manfredi, who had
been looking aloft, and securing some of the halyards to the
belaying-pins.
"Hollo, you sir!" said he, "what do you want aft, eh?"
"None o' your grand airs, Mister Manfreddy," was the sulky response,
"'cos they won't do in this part o' blue water, so I tells you at
once."
"Take that pipe out of your mouth; remember that you are on the
quarter-deck, and there is a lady here."
"That is just what brought me aft. Are you chaps and the cabin
passengers a goin' to keep the gals--the old judge's darters--all to
yourselves? I don't mean to offend you, marm; oh, not at all, by no
manner o' means," he continued, making a mock bow to Ethel; "but,
shiver my topsails, if, mayhap, we won't be better acquainted afore
we sights Maddygascar and the gut of the Mosambique Channel--ha, ha!"
And as he concluded he continued to leer at Ethel.
"You are drunk, fellow," said Manfredi, who was resolved to keep his
temper, if possible, for the man's words contained in them a
reference to ultimate views sufficiently daring to excite alarm.
"I am no more a feller than you are, mayhap not so much," replied
Sharkey, taking his huge square hands out of his trousers pockets and
proceeding to clench them very ominously; "and as for being two or
three cloths in the wind, 'taint the six-water grog as we gets aboard
o' this 'ere beastly craft as will make me so."
"Go forward, I command you, or by Heaven I'll throw you overboard,"
said Manfredi, in a hoarse voice.
"If you want to swim, there may be two as can play at that,"
responded the ugly seaman; "but I knows summut easier in seamanship,
and I would advise you to l'arn it."
"What is it?"
"To run ten knots an hour right in the wind's eye, with everything
set that will draw, aloft and alow, skyscrapers, moonrakers, and all."
"My dear Miss Basset, I beg of you to excuse this scene, and permit
me to lead you below," said Manfredi, with an agitated manner, to
Ethel, who had listened to all this with great dismay.
"My dear, don't do nothin' o' the sort; just stay here and see how
I'll rib-roast him," said Sharkey.
"Go forward, you gallows lubber!" thundered Manfredi, growing pale
with a passion which he strove to repress, lest he should terrify
Ethel, between whom and this seaman he interposed.
Sharkey, instead of complying, put his right hand behind him, and
suddenly drew forth a sheath-knife--one of those ugly weapons which
few seamen are now without. Armed with this, he was about to make a
rush at Manfredi, when the latter, quick as thought, and as if he had
anticipated some such catastrophe, snatched up a heavy iron
marlinespike and hurled it full at Sharkey's head, with such force
and unerring aim that he was knocked down, senseless and bleeding,
with a severe wound on the head.
"Carry the scoundrel forward, and drench him well with salt water, to
bring him to," said Manfredi, while panting with excitement, to the
Barradas and some of the crew who had run aft. He took the knife
from Sharkey's relaxed hand, and threw it into the sea, adding, "I
will serve every man who disobeys me now in the same fashion, and tow
him overboard for twenty knots at the end of a line, if the captain
will allow me."
"Mayhap as you won't," growled Sharkey, recovering a little, as he
was lifted up by his sulky and muttering messmates; "and if you don't
repent this work _afore to-morrow morning_, you infernal Hytalian, my
name ain't Sam Sharkey!"
That some general outbreak among the crew was on the _tapis_, and
might have taken place but for his own resolute conduct, Manfredi had
not a doubt.
With his face covered with blood, the mutineer was carried forward,
and Dr. Heriot (whom Ethel's scream when she beheld the scuffle had
brought on deck) with others, hastened to the forecastle to examine
the wound and have it dressed.
The marlinespike, an iron instrument that tapers like a pin, and is
used for separating the strands of rope when splicing or marling, had
inflicted a severe wound on the forehead of Sharkey, and the blood
was flowing freely from it.
He growled and swore, using fearful oaths and threats, while Heriot,
bathed, dressed, and bandaged the gash. Captain Phillips threatened
to have him put in irons till the ship reached Cape Town; but as the
wound was severe, he permitted him to remain in his berth in the
forecastle bunks, where his shipmates remained to console him, and
hear his reiterated threats of revenge.
Manfredi apologised to Ethel for the alarm he had unwittingly caused
her, but added that no other course was left him but to strike the
ruffian down, to preserve his own life and authority.
Quiet Mr. Quail made a due entry of the event among his columns of
"remarks" in the ship's log, while Mr. Basset waxed warm at the
affair, and expounded learnedly and as became a new-fledged judge, on
the law relating to merchant seamen, quoting Shee's edition of "Lord
Tenterden," and so forth with great fluency.
So generous and forgiving was Manfredi, that, at lunch time, he sent
boy Joe, the captain's steward, forward with a tot of brandy to the
patient in the forecastle, and the amiable Mr. Sharkey drank it to
the last drop, with a fearful invocation of curses on the donor's
head, and thereupon dashed the wooden tot in Joe's face.
Before the first dog-watch the event was apparently forgotten; but it
increased the desire of Captain Phillips to reach Cape Town and get
rid of some of his crew.
CHAPTER III.
ROSE AND DR. HERIOT.
Supper was over in the cabin, and the little community there would
soon be separating for the night, or "turning in," as it is
technically named.
"How brightly the stars are shining," said Rose, as she peeped up
through the skylight.
"Should you like to go on deck for a moment?" asked Dr. Heriot, in a
low voice, as he hastened to her side.
"Yes--for a moment only."
"Take care of chill," said Mr. Basset, warningly.
"Take care rather of yourself, Miss Rose, and, of all things, take
care of the doctor," said Captain Phillips, laughing. "Manfredi has
charge of the deck; see how she is trimmed aloft. Report to me when
you come down, and then I'll turn in."
Rose coloured on hearing the captain's bantering tone, as she threw a
shawl over her head and shoulders, took the doctor's ready arm, and
hastened up the companion-stair.
Ethel smiled sadly at her joyous and girlish sister, for she had seen
how the intimacy between the young doctor and Rose had been ripening;
and she wondered, or speculated on, how they would separate when the
tedious voyage was over. Then she thought of Morley Ashton, and the
fatal blight that had fallen so awfully and mysteriously upon her own
first love.
"Miss Basset," said Hawkshaw, rising, "would you wish--
"To go on deck? Oh, no, thank you," said she hurriedly, anticipating
and replying to his offer without looking up from "I Promessi Sposi."
Hawkshaw seated himself again, and bit his lip, while that malignant
gleam which filled his eyes at times shot from them covertly and
unseen.
He made one other effort to engage her in conversation, by saying, in
a low voice, as he stooped over her:
"Your sad smiles, Ethel, go straight to my heart, with an effect,
believe me, that is cruel--killing!"
"Why! it seems that 'I can smile, and murder while I smile,' as
Shakespeare says. Is it so?"
"Bantering--bantering still--even here, when on the verge of
destruction, perhaps!" muttered Hawkshaw, as he drew back with
another fierce but covert gleam in his stealthy eyes, and Ethel never
lifted hers again from her book, until a noise on deck aroused her.
Rose clung closely and affectionately to the doctor's arm, as they
traversed the quarter-deck towards the taffrail, and turned to look
at the ship, at the sky overhead, through which the wild black scud
was driving, and on the mysterious world of water and of darkness,
through which she was careering under a press of canvas.
Encouraged by Rose's ready accession to his request, the young man
held her right hand in his, and pressed it tenderly to his heart.
There was none near them save the man at the wheel; for it was about
the middle of the first watch, or nearer eleven o'clock.
Rose had a presentiment that a crisis was approaching in her
relations with the young doctor. The somewhat annoying banter of
Captain Phillips, the affectionate warnings of Ethel, and the praises
of him so loudly sung by her old nurse, had all, in a manner,
prepared her for it, as much as the steady and delicate attention he
paid herself.
Nightly, when Rose retired to rest in that little cabin, which seemed
so small, so very small, the first night they occupied it, Nance
Folgate was wont to chant her praises of the handsome doctor.
"Lor' a mussy me!--for a Scotchman--he is such a sweet dispositioned
youth, Miss Rose. Oh, yes! now, ain't he, miss? He gives me no end
o' cordials and stuffs when I'm in low spirits, which are often the
case, 'specially when it blows 'ard, and the ship tumbles about.
There is such a modesty in all his words and ways--now, ain't there?
If I was a fine young gal like you, instead o' bein' a poor old
toothless thing, I would love him, that I would, when I saw how much
he loved me--he is such a nice young man, is the doctor. But why
don't you answer, miss?"
If Rose did not reply to such rhapsodies as these, it was not because
she disagreed with them; but her young heart was wild with pleasure,
and she often affected to be asleep that she might conceal her
flushing cheek on her pillow. But if the young doctor had won over
the old nurse, it was just as he had won over the quiet and
unaffected Mr. Quail, or anyone else, as he was a good obliging
fellow, and fond of doing kind offices for all. So Rose, yielding to
an irresistible impulse, assented to a tête-à-tête on deck, on the
night in question.
After a silence of some minutes--
"How strange it is," said Rose, in her soft, sweet voice, "that amid
the wind which moans through the rigging, I seem to hear the sound of
bells."
"Bells?"
"Or is it from the bottom of the sea?"
"Don't say so, Rose," replied Heriot.
This sounded strange in both their ears, as he had. never simply
called her "Rose" before; yet the implied familiarity was not without
its novelty and charm.
"Why may I not say so?" she asked.
"It is an old superstition of our Scottish sailors that the bells of
wrecks and sunken ships are rung by mysterious hands at the bottom of
the sea, to announce storms and disasters."
"Ah, but you Scots are so superstitious; you live in a land of omens
and ghosts, predictions and dreams, even in these fast railway times."
"Yet I would that we were in Scotland now," said Heriot, with a sigh,
as he thought of the doubts and clouds that veiled the future.
"We?" repeated Rose, inquiringly, while peeping from her hood and
shawl, so that the light of the binnacle lamp fell full on her sweet
young face, and very beautiful the dark-eyed girl looked.
"Yes, we," reiterated Heriot, whose heart was rushing to his head as
he held, unresisted, her plump little hands in his. "I wish to speak
with you, Rose, to--to--I have so long desired--do you--do you care
for me Rose, dear Rose?"
"Care for you!" she repeated, faintly.
"Can you love me, dear, dear Rose, as I love you?"
"Yes," said Rose, in a whisper, as her head dropped on Heriot's
shoulder, and his lips were pressed on her throbbing brow, for now
the great secret was told, and all her pulses beat with a new,
happiness.
A few moments of joyous silence followed. Then crossing the deck to
leeward, they were more in obscurity; and fortunately for them,
Manfredi at that moment went forward, so Heriot pressed Rose to his
breast, and said in a low, earnest, and agitated voice:
"But Rose--my beloved Rose; to what end do I love you?--to what
purpose?--how taught you love to me? We are to land you at the Isle
of France, and then sail on through the Indian Seas--to leave
you--leave you there, for I have no home--no settled abode."
("Papa's daughters are unlucky in their lovers," thought Rose.) She
replied, however, while tears of apprehension filled her eyes:
"Why cannot you leave the ship? Sailing with it to and fro must be
very tiresome."
"Leave it?"
"Yes, and live with us in the Isle of France."
"Live with you, Rose?" said Heriot, with sad perplexity.
"Settle, I mean--at least, while papa is there."
"I cannot, even if I had the means. I am bound to the owners and to
Captain Phillips, for this voyage at least, unless the _Hermione_
procures another medical officer."
"At Singapore?"
Heriot smiled sadly at Rose's simplicity.
"Ah, yes--that will be delightful! and if poor dear Morley Ashton,
who is dead, were here with us now, how happy Ethel and we should all
have been!" exclaimed Rose, while nursing herself into a mood of the
most prosperous cheerfulness, as her happy young spirit soared into a
bright world all her own, and Heriot caressingly slipped a ring on
her "engagement" finger, whispering in her ear:
"It was my mother's, Rose--wear it, at all events, for her sake and
mine."
Another kiss and the bond was sealed. Then Rose, in a tumult of joy
that could only find vent in tears, hurried below, with her head
inclined on Ethel's bosom, told her of all that had passed between
Leslie Heriot and herself--a pretty little narrative, interspersed
with hesitations, smiles, and blushes, till they were startled by the
wild hubbub that reigned on deck, where a terrible catastrophe had
occurred.
CHAPTER IV.
MAN OVERBOARD.
A sudden squall, and a sea which heavily swept over the poop with a
shower of blinding spray, that hissed away amidships, had first
driven Rose and Heriot below, and just as they retired hand in hand,
they heard the voice of Manfredi, shouting through the wild blast:
"Below there! all hands ahoy! come, tumble up to take in sail!"
Then the men were heard grumbling and swearing as they hurried
half-dressed out of the forecastle bunks, to assist the watch; next
followed the orders "to let go," "haul down," "clew up," amid the
cracking and flapping of the canvas, as the topsails were lowered
almost to the caps; the royals and topgallant sails taken off her;
flying gib and studding sails all in in a twinkling, though for a
time the wind howled fearfully, and the ship careered before its
fierce breath almost on her beam-ends. Little more than steering
canvas was left upon her, for wild and black was the Atlantic squall
that had come suddenly over her, accompanied by torrents of rain,
that rattled on deck, like a tempest of rouncival peas, while ever
and anon the red lightning flashed vividly at the horizon, but still
the brave ship flew on.
"By the sky to-day I knew we should have a gale to-night," said
Captain Phillips cheerfully, as he donned his storm-jacket of shiny
oilskin, and came on deck.
"'A mackerel sky and grey mares' tails
Make lofty ships carry lowly sails.'
A glorious sailor is Manfredi! How smartly he had all the cloth off
her. But we'll need our best umbrellas to-night."
Suddenly, from the forecastle, through the many wild sounds of the
squall, there came the appalling cry:
"A man overboard! hard down! hard down!"
Other shouts followed.
"Ahoy! heave over the life buoy! mainsail to the wind! clear away a
boat!"
Captain Phillips grasped his trumpet; Mr. Quail--who had just turned
into his berth with his clothes on, "all standing"--Dr. Heriot, and
Hawkshaw sprang on deck at this new alarm.
"Hard down with the helm!" cried Phillips; "to the braces, men! let
go, and haul! Back with the mainyard! Ready the starboard quarter
boat, and cut away the life-buoy!"
The mainsail was speedily laid to the mast, though there was great
danger lest, in such a gale, it might be carried away entirely, and,
in the excitement of the moment, even the most sullen of that
ill-assorted crew worked cheerily and well.
Alternately the huge ship rose and sank on the mighty rolling waves;
and now the spray flew from stem to stern over her in white and
blinding sheets, plashing over her courses, and hissing under the
arched leaches of the bellying sails.
Upheaved she rose on the foaming surge one moment, to sink down into
the yawning trough of the sea the next, loose spars, buckets,
handspikes, and everything else adrift, going to leeward, and
overboard.
A faint but despairing cry came from the waves; another followed, as
the drowning man, struggling hard for existence, rose on the white,
foamy crest of a wave, and then sank for ever into the black and
gaping bosom of the midnight sea.
Then, after some minutes of the most painful and lingering suspense,
the captain, the doctor, and others, came to the conclusion that all
was over, and that the poor victim must have perished, for it was
found impossible to lower a boat with safety, or with the least hope
of success, in such a sea or squall.
"Fill the mainyard, Mr. Foster," said the captain to the second mate.
And he sighed bitterly as he spoke, for John Phillips was a kind and
good-hearted man. "God receive the poor fellow! We could do nothing
more. Let the ship lie her course; muster the hands aft, please, and
see who is missing."
The yard heads were filled; the vessel's bow fell off from the wind,
and there was less strain upon her now, and less spray broke over
her, as she tore through the sea at liberty.
Aft the mizzenmast the drenched seamen mustered.
"Boy Joe! steward! bring a lantern," said the captain.
And now, by its weird light, were to be seen the two dark and sullen
Barradas; Bill Badger, the bulky and insolent Yankee; the square,
squat, and ugly Sharkey, with his head bandaged up; the Messieurs
Brewser, Batter, Cribbit, and others of that remarkable crew.
"Are all present, Mr. Quail?" asked the captain, as the mate passed
the lantern along the dripping line.
"All except _one_, sir," replied Mr. Quail, whose face wore a very
ashy hue and alarmed expression.
"Who is it?"
"Mr. Manfredi, sir; he is nowhere on deck."
"'Twas his watch, was it not?" said Phillips, starting.
"Yes, sir."
"Good Heavens, can it be?" exclaimed the captain, in an agitated
voice, as the threat of Sharkey occurred to him. "If there has been
foul play to-night, I say woe to the perpetrator of it!"
Some one now uttered a snorting laugh in the dark.
"Let us search below," said the doctor, taking the steward's lantern,
and proceeding to examine in person.
He did so, and soon returned to report that no trace of Adrian
Manfredi could be found, so the crew were dismissed.
"Who was the person that called out 'Man overboard?'--who saw him
last?" demanded the captain, as they descended to the cabin.
"I did, sir," said Joe the steward, as he closed the door. "I was
stowing the jib in its netting with Pedro Barradas," he continued, in
a low voice, as if afraid to be overheard. "Mr. Manfredi was
standing on the topgallant forecastle, holding on by a rope and
directing us. Our heads were stooped over our work, when all of a
sudden we heard a cry. On looking one way, I saw him falling into
the sea; on looking another, I saw a man in his shirt-sleeves, armed
with a capstan bar, slipping down into the forecastle bunks."
"A man?" repeated the listeners.
"Did he strike him overboard?" asked the captain.
"We supposed so," replied Joe, in a whisper, and glancing furtively
at the skylight.
"We."
"That is, Pedro Barradas and I. He laughed--"
"The mutinous villain!"
"And tried to stop me from shouting to put the helm down."
"Did you see the man's face?"
"No, sir."
"Who do you think he was--speak!" said Captain Phillips, perceiving
that Joe, a fat, good-natured fellow, with flabby cheeks, and large
boiled-looking gray eyes, hesitated through fear, "speak!"
"I am frightened, in this ship, almost to say who I thought he was."
"In this ship--right! Was it Sharkey, eh?"
The steward's teeth chattered. He again glanced fearfully at the
skylight, and gave a nod in the affirmative, and the captain struck
his right heel on the floor.
"There has been murder committed on board to-night; yes, a most foul
murder!" he continued, turning by a mere coincidence to Hawkshaw,
who, on hearing the terrible word, grew deadly pale, and trembled
violently from head to foot. "Would to Heaven that I had only
half-a-dozen good hard-a-weather English seamen to keep this coloured
lot in order. Even Lascars of the lowest caste were better than what
we have!"
The consternation in the cabin was very great, and the conversation
continued below, and the storm above, till Mr. Quail, with many
unpleasant forebodings, went on deck to relieve the watch at four
o'clock A.M., when the wind began to abate and the sea to go down.
CHAPTER V.
THE LIVID FACE.
The event of the night shed a gloom, a horror, over all in the cabin
next day; nor was the alarm in the breasts of Captain Phillips and
his mates in the least soothed, when it was remarked that the cook's
grindstone was kept at work all the forenoon, and a most ominous
sharpening of sheath and clasp-knives went on, while sundry jokes
were uttered audibly about "Mister Manfreddy having gone on a visit
to Mr. David Jones and Old Mother Carey, without his umbrella, too;"
"and the rain a fallin' like Niagary," as Badger, the Yankee, added,
with a diabolical grin.
The morning sky was gray and cloudy; a heavy sea was still on, and
not a sail was in sight, so Captain Phillips swept the horizon with
his telescope in vain.
At breakfast Ethel and her sister were informed that Mr. Manfredi had
fallen overboard in the night, and been drowned. No hint of foul
play was given them, at their father's special request; but they wept
and mourned for the poor young fellow, of whom they now recalled to
memory so many pleasing traits and anecdotes; among others, the sad
story of his little brother, Attilio, who had been so savagely shot
by the Austrians at Pistoja.
His seat at table, his place in the cabin were empty; his face and
form were no longer seen, and his step and voice were no longer heard.
The suddenness of the catastrophe seemed most difficult of
realisation; and the words of Dana, in a passage of one of his works,
which Dr. Heriot pointed out to Rose, came painfully and truthfully
home to all their hearts.
"Death is at all times solemn, but never so much so as at sea. A man
dies on shore; his body remains with his friends, and the mourners go
about the streets; but, when a man falls overboard at sea and is
lost, there is a suddenness in the event which gives it an air of
awful mystery. Then at sea you miss a man so much. A dozen men are
shut up together in a little bark upon the wide wide sea, and for
months and months see no forms and hear no voices but their own; but
one is suddenly taken from among them, and they miss him at every
turn. There are no new forms or faces to fill up the gap. There is
always an empty berth in the forecastle, and one more wanting when
the small night-watch is mustered. There is one less to take the
wheel, one less to lay out with you upon the yard. You miss his form
and the sound of his voice--for habit had made them almost necessary
to you, and each of your senses feels the loss."
"So we shall never see him again--never!" said Ethel, with her eyes
full of tears; "so kind, good, and gentle."
"And so handsome, too!" added Rose.
"A better seaman never trod a deck," sighed Mr. Quail.
"Damnation!" was the singular addendum of Captain Phillips, through
his clenched teeth, when thinking of the secret he had not revealed,
and the crime which, as yet, he dared not attempt to punish.
So Ethel put past "I Promessi Sposi," which had Manfredi's name
written on the fly-leaf of the first volume, as the relic of a friend
with whom she had spent many happy hours, whom she never more could
see, and on whose vast tomb, the boundless ocean, she almost
shuddered to look--for was not Morley Ashton sleeping there too?
So the gloomy day passed slowly on, and night came on.
Retired to their little cabin, Ethel and Rose were disrobing for
rest--Nance Folgate had long since gone to sleep--and now,
relinquishing the sad subject of Manfredi, Rose, with a blush on her
charming face, was detailing to Ethel, for the second time, her
interview with Leslie Heriot, whose ring--containing a large Scottish
pearl, set with diamonds--glittered on the engaged finger of her left
hand.
"And you are sure that you love him, Rose?" said Ethel, as she took
her sister's face caressingly and affectionately between her soft
hands.
"Dearly, devotedly," was the energetic reply. "How could I do
otherwise, when he is such a kind, darling fellow--and so handsome
too?"
"Have you weighed well the probabilities of the future?"
"What do you mean, Ethel dear?"
"What papa may think."
"Oh, Leslie will speak to papa to-morrow, or on the next day, at the
latest."
Ethel smiled sadly at her sister's confidence.
"Our voyage will soon be over, dear Rose," said she, shaking her head
seriously. "Once round the Cape of Good Hope, we shall be speedily
at the Isle of France, and then your dream of joy will have an end--a
rough awaking; not so sad or rough as mine, but a gloomy reality, and
a doubtful future, nevertheless."
Poor Rose's usually merry eyes now filled with large tears, and she
permitted the braids of her fine dark hair, which her slender fingers
were wreathing up for the night, to roll down in unheeded masses over
her bare bosom and back, which shone white as the new-fallen
snowdrift, in the light of the cabin lamp that swung above her.
"And Jack Page--poor Jack Page!" said Ethel, smiling, to arouse
Rose's spirit; "is he quite forgotten--eh?"
"Oh bother Jack Page!" replied Rose, crimsoning, and with the
faintest tinge of irritation in her tone, as she proceeded vigorously
to knot up the masses of black hair. "He was a pleasant enough
fellow to flirt with, or play croquet with at Laurel Lodge (dear old
Laurel Lodge! ah, heavens! Ethel, shall we ever see it again?) He
was a good fellow for fishing or sailing on the mere----"
"And to botanise with, and to gather wild flowers on Cherrywood
Hill," added Ethel, a little maliciously.
"Yes; but he gave himself such insufferable airs after he became a
rifle volunteer; and as for loving him, I should almost as soon think
of loving your adorer, the gallant Captain Hawkshaw. By-the-by, how
taciturn he has become of late."
"Perhaps he finds his task a hopeless one," said Ethel, with a
haughty smile.
"He seems quite changed somehow," said Rose, slipping into bed, "does
he not, Ethel dear? Why don't you speak to me?" added Rose, with
sudden alarm, and springing from her berth, on perceiving her sister
standing pale and motionless, her lips parted, her dark eyes dilated
with terror, and their gaze fixed on the little circular window of
their cabin, which was simply a pane of thick glass, about nine
inches in diameter, framed in an iron ring, and secured by a powerful
bolt.
Rose gazed in the same direction, and beheld, to her intense dismay,
the whole aperture filled by a human face--a man's apparently--pale,
livid, green, and distorted, as viewed through the coarse crystal,
with large keen eyes, that glared in upon them.
Whoever the person was that dared thus to violate their privacy, he
occupied a position of extreme peril, for the little window in
question was below the plank sheer of the ship, and considerably
abaft the mizzen chains, so that the eavesdropper must have been
swinging alongside, almost with his heels in the foam that boiled
under the ship's counter.
Could the sea give up its dead?
Was it a spectre--Manfredi, or Morley Ashton?
Such were Rose's first ideas, as she clung in terror to her rigid but
more resolute sister, who sprang forward and vainly attempted with
her delicate hands to wrench round the bolt, and open the little
window; but at that moment a fierce and sardonic smile seemed to
spread over that livid and distorted visage, which instantly
vanished, and then nothing was seen through the aperture but the vast
sea that rolled in the starlight far away.
"Papa--Nurse Folgate!" screamed Rose; but the old woman slept like
one of the seven sleepers.
"Hush!" said Ethel, "'twas only some insolent seaman; but we must
prevent a recurrence of this," she added, as she rapidly hung a
species of curtain over the window. "Good heavens, Rose! to think
how often this may have happened before, and we in total ignorance of
it; but the captain shall be told in the morning."
"Oh, Ethel!" exclaimed Rose, "how terrified I am."
"Why?"
"At first I thought it was his ghost."
"Whose?"
"Poor Mr. Manfredi's."
"Nonsense, child!"
"A ghost on board of a ship, how dreadful that would be! Almost as
bad as a fire, for there would be no escaping from it."
Inspired by natural emotions of doubt, Ethel opened the door and
peeped out into the great cabin. All was still and quiet there, at
least nothing was heard but the jarring of the rudder in its case,
and of the brass swings of the lamp and tell-tale compass, with the
heavy creaking of the ship's timbers, the backwash under the counter,
and one other sound, to which she had become pretty familiar about
this time--to wit, the profound snoring of Mr. Quail, as he lay at
full length on the cabin locker, with his peacoat spread over him,
and his sou'-wester at hand, ready to relieve the deck when the
middle-watch was called.
She secured the door, perhaps more carefully than usual. She knelt
down by Rose's side to say her prayers, after which they retired
together, but lay long awake, conversing of that future, the events
of which, happily, they could so little foresee, until they dropped
asleep, Rose with her charming face half pillowed on Ethel's snowy
shoulder.
All remained still in the ship; but while the two sisters slept with
arms entwined, each "hushed like the callow cygnet in its nest,"
anxious hearts were watching over them elsewhere; and they formed the
subject of a somewhat unusual, but animated, discussion among the
seamen--a discussion of which, as yet, they were happily ignorant.
CHAPTER VI.
WHAT THE DOCTOR OVERHEARD IN THE FORECASTLE BUNKS.
The love he bore Rose, the love that she permitted him to bear, and
which she so fully reciprocated, together with the regard and esteem
he had for the grave, gentle Ethel, and good, easy Mr. Basset,
increased the anxiety with which the young Scotch surgeon beheld the
growing discontent of the crew.
On deck, he more than once had heard them conferring in most
unpleasant terms about the disappearance of the third mate, and, in
reply to some remark of Sharkey's, Zuares Barradas said, with a
cunning twinkle in his eyes:
"_Bueno! paso a paso va lejos._"
"Wot the devil does that mean, shipmate? Avast with your Spanish.
Carn't you speak the queen's English?"
"Well, it means that 'step by step goes far'. Manfredi is gone; a
little spell and we shall have it all our own way," replied the
Spanish American, as he hitched up his trousers and slunk forward.
"These rascals are decidedly up to something--or whence all this
skulking about, this whispering in gangs, and knife-sharpening," said
Heriot to the captain.
"The grindstone has never been idle all day," observed Mr. Quail, who
was looking, as the captain remarked, "rather white about the gills,
in consequence."
After a long conference in the cabin, Dr. Heriot offered, there being
no moon about the middle of the first night-watch, to creep forward
to the forecastle bunk, where, in defiance of orders, the crew now
kept a light burning after sundown, and endeavour to overhear their
conversation. The duty of acting eavesdropper was not a pleasant,
but, in this instance, a most necessary one.
The first night Heriot attempted this, he failed to get forward
unseen; but on the second, as the atmosphere, though very cloudy, was
fine, and the ship under easy sail was going large, that is, with the
wind abaft the beam, which careened her slightly to port, Heriot,
armed with a sharp bowie-knife, concealed in his breast, so as to be
ready for any emergency (for if discovered by the watch he might be
sent overboard after poor Manfredi) crept forward on the leeside,
keeping his head close under the bulwarks, and in the shadow.
The men of the watch were all grouped to windward, smoking with their
backs against the long-boat, and the steersman could see little else
than the lights that glared in the binnacles, and the ship's canvas,
that towered aloft between him and the sky.
Through the two yolks of dense, thick glass that admitted light to
the forecastle bunks, in which the seamen had their chests and
berths, he could see nothing, save that they had, as usual with them,
in defiance of the captain's order, a lamp or lantern, the light of
which glared as from two bull's-eyes upon the forehatchway, the foot
of the foremast, the gallows-bitts abaft it, the scuttle-butt, and so
forth.
These two lines of light had the effect of rendering the rest of the
deck dark, thus favouring the purpose of Heriot, who reached unseen
the forecastle, and crept along it, until he found himself close to
the coaming of the scuttle, or small square hatchway, which gave
access thereto, and from whence there ascended into the pure saline
atmosphere of the midnight sea a combination of odours that were
neither of Araby nor of Ind; for more than a dozen of dirty, tarry,
unwashed, and uncombed specimens of those seamen usually denominated
"coloured," the most ruffianly of their class, such, as may be seen
lounging and loafing about the quays and grog-shops of Liverpool and
Birkenhead, were all seated closely round a chest, which was lashed
by ringbolts to the deck, and formed the table, whereon they had
recently supped on scalding-hot "scouse" from a greasy wooden kid;
and the fumes of this savoury mess yet mingled with the tar with
which their clothes were saturated, and the coarse tobacco in which
they were all indulging freely, by means of pipes, quids, and
cigarettes.
A ship's lantern, in which a candle sputtered, shed a wavering light
through the perforated tin upon the black hair, massive frontal
bones, and square jaw of Pedro Barradas, and on his coarse,
leather-like ears, in which a pair of silver rings were glittering;
on the dark olive face of his brother, Zuares, a villain of a more
pleasing type, only because he was younger and handsomer; on the
cruel, sardonic visage, the keen eyes, hooked nose, and enormous
chin, and tangled elf-locks of Bill Badger, the long-legged and
ungainly Yankee; on the huge head and giant hands of the odious
Sharkey, who sat with his cheeks wedged between his hands, his elbows
planted on the chest, and his eyes that, from under the bloody
bandage encircling his temples, glared at each speaker alternately;
and on all the rest of the ill-selected crew--fell the lantern's dim
uncertain ray, bringing some forward into light, and leaving others
almost in shadow.
Though quite sober, for as yet they had no means for procuring
alcohol, they generally all spoke at once, and were engaged in an
angry dispute, which, however, they were still cautious enough to
conduct with suppressed voices.
Pedro Barradas grasped in his left hand an old dice-box, which was
served round with spunyarn, and two suspicious-looking dice were
rattled in it from time to time.
At the moment that Heriot peeped in, it would seem as if our Spanish
acquaintance suddenly lost his temper. His black eyes filled with
fire, his swarthy cheek grew livid and pale, he showed all his sharp
white teeth like a dog about to bite, and striking his drawn knife
into the lid of the chest, round which they were all grouped, and
with a force of action that made them all shrink back, he uttered a
tremendous oath, and said, in a low, hoarse voice:
"It is agreed, then, that we take the ship, and make all the people
aft walk the plank. Am I to understand this?"
"Yes, yes," from all hands was the reply; "and all must walk the
plank to leeward."
"Except the women," suggested the Canadian seaman, named Bolter.
"In course we shall keep them!" said Badger, laying a long and dirty
finger on one side of his hawk nose, and closing an eye wickedly;
"and take very partik'lar care o' the darlings, too."
"We take the ship," resumed Pedro Barradas, speaking good English,
and with an air of authority; "and then we shall run her on her own
account."
"How?" asked one.
"In the slaving or piccarooning line, or anything else that comes to
hand."
"But where to?" asked the Canadian, who seemed a man of doubts.
"Anywheres, darn your nutmeg of a head!" growled the Yankee;
"anywheres, arter we has had a jolly spree ashore."
"On what shore, mate?"
"On the coast ov Africy, in course; but not afore, mate--not afore, I
calc'late."
"Come, now, I likes this," observed Sharkey, putting in his voice;
"if water and wittles runs short, we may overhaul an Ingeeman,
homeward-bound, or an Australian liner----"
"With sojers aboard, mayhap," said Bolter; "so what will you dew
then?"
"Hail or signal for a boat, to be sure, and sink it to leeward with a
cold shot through its ribs. Shout that it has been swamped under the
counter, and to send another, and another, and so knock 'em all on
the head. Then run her aboard, take all out of her--the women, too,
if any--then scuttle or burn her."
"A game you won't play long athout being overhauled by some cussed
man-o'-war," said the Canadian. "I tell you, mates, the good old
piratical times have been put out o' fashion long since. Even the
slaving business is knocked up by them blazing smoke-jacks and
gun-boats of the African squadron. The sea ain't wot it was, mates,
when old Kidd sailed the _Vulture_ down the Channel with a skull and
marrow-bones flying at his foremasthead."
"Hooray! I'll ship with you, Barradas," cried another. "Grog for
the drinking, a grab at these gals, and the pick o' the good things
in the passengers' trunks and cabin-lockers."
"And till that time comes," added Sharkey, "we'll work Tom Cox's
traverse with old Phillips--that we shall. Precious little work
he'll get out of me."
"But I don't like usin' the knife or plank if they could be done
athout, mates," said the Canadian ponderingly.
"The Reverend Mr. Ben Bolter, a Methody parson, 'll offer up a
blessin' over the empty mess-kids," sneered the Yankee.
"_Par todos santos_," growled Pedro Barradas, giving the Canadian a
glance of profound scorn, while Zuares uttered a shrill and ferocious
laugh.
"I say, cooky," said Sharkey, in a way which he supposed to be very
jocular, "as Ben Bolter don't like the stickin' business, couldn't
you put summut tasty into the mess-kid o' the cabbin passingers, and
pison the whole bilin' o' them? I have known o' such things being
done afore now, mates, and many other things, too, that never
appeared in the ship's log. Have you any Calabar beans aboard?"
"Yaas," replied the cook, with a regular negro grin, for he was a
black Virginian, named Quaco; "dere's a bagful in de hold. Why?"
"I have known of a handful, put in a copper of peasoup, doing for a
whole ship's crew afore now."
"When?"
"In the Gulf of Florida once, and again among the Coral Islands, in
the Pacific. Aye, aye, mates, I have seen some rum sprees in my
time."
"And you are likely to see more," added the Yankee, "ere this cussed
old craft gets her anchors over the bows, and her ground-tackle rove.
Ha, ha! But as for the pison, you darned fool, wot of old Basset's
gals? We wants 'em partik'lar, you know. So avast with your Calabar
beans. I guess, mate, you're up a tree, rayther."
Sharkey was abashed into silence.
"And that Scotch doctor," said a gaunt, unhealthy-looking seaman,
named Cribbit, who had not yet spoken, and who so frequently required
Heriot's medical aid that he had imbibed half the contents of his
medicine-chest, "must he, too, walk the plank?"
"In course he must," drawled Bill Badger, stuffing an enormous quid
in the inmost recesses of his capacious mouth.
"No, no, _demonio_, no!" said the elder Barradas; "we must keep him
alive so long as we want him. We can't physic ourselves,
_companeros_, especially if fever comes aboard, which it is likely to
do if we hug the land."
"But in physicking us he might poison the whole blessed gang,"
suggested the Canadian.
"No fear of that. We'll have him chained to the mainmast, and if a
man dies in his hands, then _el senor doctor de medicena_ shall be
tipped overboard after the others."
"Thank you, my Spanish _patrone_," thought Heriot, who had listened
to all this with blood that alternately boiled and curdled; "a
pleasant little medical practice you are likely to find me here!"
"Mayhap that fellow, Hawkshaw, would join us?" suggested the Canadian
again.
"He, the white-livered Perro!" exclaimed Pedro, "I long to have my
Albacete knife between his ribs. I'll teach him to play off
quarter-deck airs with me, the God-abandoned Piccaro! Well, is it
agreed that, instead of letting old Phillips haul up for Table Bay,
we keep the ship off the land whether he will or will not take her
before we are abreast of La Tierra de Natal; hug the coast of Africa
after; have a run through the Mozambique Channel, and then stand
right across the Indian Sea for whatever we may overhaul?"
A unanimous clapping of very hard and very dirty hands responded
heartily to this programme.
"Now, Pedro, the _dados_ (dice)," said Zuares, impatiently.
"Yes, mates, the dice!" added the Yankee, setting his chin, which was
like a shoemaker's knife, upon his knees, and clasping his hands over
his ankles, so that he squatted on his hams like a huge baboon.
"Hooray! the old _Herminey_ has been trimmed by the starn since she
saw Dungeness Light; but we'll trim her by the head arter we doubles
the Cape--eh, mates? So now to draw lots for them two pretty
creeturs, as I calculate is just agoin' to bed about this blessed
time. Think o' that, mates! I'm a thorough-bred Yankee--half bull,
half shark, with an uncommon cross of the snake; so I'm blowed if I
can wait almost till we leave Table Bay astarn and bear up towards
Natal. But rattle away, Pedro, my boy!--Captain Pedro that is to be,
I reckon."
The blood of the young Scotchman grew cold as he listened, longing
for a brace of loaded revolvers, that he might shoot down the whole
band; but the talkative Yankee began his nasal drawling again.
"How I'd like to have one of 'em under a big palm-tree in some snug
diggin' on the Africy coast, or in a wigwam on the Mozambique,
thatched with leaves, no topsails to reef o' nights, and nothin' to
do all day, but keep on admiring her, and swigging the grog old
Phillips has aboard, or blowing a whiff of 'baccy--eh, mates?
Jeerusalem! that's summut like life, I calculate!"
"_Morte de Dios!_" swore Pedro Barradas, with a very dark look; "haul
in your slack, and be hanged to you! There are other things than the
two girls worth casting lots for!"
"Is there really, now?" drawled Badger. I was looking into the
senoras' cabin the other night, and saw them going to bed. I saw
lovely necks and shoulders, and all that; but I saw more, I can tell
you, _companeros_."
"Smite my timbers!" "Shiver my tawpsails!" "Darn my eyes!" "Oh,
Jeerusalem!" And "What did you see?" asked several all at once.
"A splendid jewel-case," replied the Spaniard, while an avaricious
gleam sparkled in his dark eyes; "a box with diamond rings for the
ears and fingers; carbuncles, turquoises, and topazes, in bracelets
and necklets, all glittering on the trays of blue and crimson velvet.
So he who loses the girls should have a chance----"
"Of grabbing the jewels," interrupted Badger; "in course he
should--in course!"
"Jewels or not," said Zuares Barradas, laughing, while he rolled up a
fresh cigarito, "I'll teach one senora, at least, that it is no
longer here _mira y no totas_, as they say in Minorca."
"Which means, in your cussed lingo?" asked Bolter.
"_Look_ at me, but _touch_ me not!" replied the young Spaniard, with
a grin.
"I'm rayther pertik'lar," observed Mr. Badger, "and I might do
neither one nor t'other, if I wor in Minorky."
"Ay, mate; but if you saw the Minorca girls in their robazillas of
white lace or silk, pinned under their pretty dimpled chins, and
falling over their shoulders, to be lifted at times by the wind, only
as if to show the low bodice and rounded bosom beneath--_hombre_."
"Here is a sentimental young villain, with an eye for the
picturesque!" thought Heriot.
"Now, then, the dados," said Pedro, rattling the dice-box. "I throw
myself first."
"_Maladetto_, Pedro!" interrupted Zuares. "Content yourself with rum
and plunder; you are too old and crank for either of these girls to
be pleased with you."
"_Vaya usted al Satanos!_" responded his affectionate elder brother.
"The girls, at all events, are not too young for me to be pleased
with them. I am not more than forty, you son of a burnt castano."
"Take the old nurse, Pedro--you'll have her a free gift, gratis, all
for nothin', and Badger's blessing into the bargain. If one o' these
gals falls to me," continued the talkative Yankee, "I reckon I must
get shaved by the doctor, and be fixed anew; have my 'air swabbed
down with some o' the cook's slush, and a hextra pull up o' my shirt
collar--eh, mates?"
Amid the ferocious laughter which these and similar remarks drew
forth, and while the dice-box rattled on the sea-chest lid Dr. Heriot
withdrew, and crept aft, just as he had done forward, by keeping
close under the lee bulwarks.
Reaching the companion-way unseen, he slipped downstairs, with a
burning brain and aching heart--a heart sick and sore with
apprehension for others rather than for himself; and now, with his
ear tingling with countless coarse oaths, obscenities, and foul
jokes, which, of course, have been omitted in our relation of the
remarkable discussion he had overheard, he sought at once the cabin
of Captain Phillips, to communicate the dreadful game that was on the
_tapis_ in the forecastle of the ill-fated _Hermione_.
CHAPTER VII.
MEASURES FOR DEFENCE CONCERTED.
Though Ethel and Rose had retired to rest, the hour was not late, and
Captain Phillips, Mr. Basset, and Hawkshaw were still lingering over
a glass of wine in the cabin, when Dr. Heriot entered it.
The pallor of his face, and the excited expression of his eyes, made
them start with exclamations of surprise and inquiry; and their alarm
increased when he filled up a glass with port and drained it, the
crystal rattling against his teeth while he did so.
"Hallo, doctor, what the deuce is the matter?" asked bluff Captain
Phillips, changing colour, or rather losing it partially. "You have
been forward--eh?"
"Yes, sir; and have there heard more than enough to confirm our worst
fears."
Phillips arose, and closed the cabin door. He then summoned from his
berth Mr. Quail (as Mr. Foster, the second mate, had charge of the
deck), and they, together with Mr. Basset and Hawkshaw, heard with
undisguised consternation the result of the doctor's eavesdropping.
As for Hawkshaw, he had long endured the horrible conviction of
guilt, with the still more gnawing sense or dread of perpetual
suspicion in others. He loved Ethel, yet, as we have said elsewhere,
at times he almost hated her for her coldness to him; but now his
soul was full of terror--terror for her and for himself, as he knew
he would meet with little mercy from the Barradas and their friends.
Retribution for the crime he had committed at Acton Chine was about
to come at last, and he had fallen into a trap of his own devising!
Neither Captain Phillips nor Mr. Quail were much astonished, though
grieved and alarmed, by Dr. Heriot's tidings; but poor Mr. Basset's
first thought was for his daughters--his young, delicate, and
tenderly-nurtured girls; and already, in his excited imagination, he
beheld them, after his own butchery, in the rude grasp of those
lawless wretches, and subjected to the grossest indignities, far from
help or human aid, upon the lonely sea, and in a floating
hell--indignities the mere idea of which wrung the poor man's heart
with agony.
To-morrow, to-night, even now, they might be advancing towards the
cabin, intent on assassination and robbery!
The dread was maddening to the unhappy parent, who made a step
towards his daughters' sleeping place, as if in anticipation, by
thought and deed, to save them from the coming peril. He had no
voice or coherence of thought for a time, and listened like one in a
dream to the discussion or consultation now held by the officers of
the ship.
After relinquishing his practice as a barrister in London, Scriven
Basset had spent many years of ease and affluence at Laurel Lodge,
and all unused to alarms or excitements, he felt himself totally
destitute of the stamina or courage requisite for facing so sudden
and perilous an emergency. Personal danger he might have confronted,
for he had all the spirit of a gentleman; but at the thought of his
daughters--the graceful and ladylike Ethel, the sweet and playful
Rose--his soul seemed to die within him.
Cramply Hawkshaw's visage was paler than usual. He remembered the
threats used towards himself, when Pedro Barradas so summarily
appropriated his gold watch, and while trembling for Ethel, he began
to think of means for quitting the ship, for the safety of his own
person, of which--being all the property he possessed--he was rather
disposed to be economical.
"The accursed--the bloody-minded villains!" exclaimed Captain
Phillips, after a pause, while pacing to and fro. "This comes of
having a coloured crew; and this is why they have been so sullen and
insolent of late."
"And so lazy at work, too," groaned Mr. Quail.
"Lazy! they have done little else but take three turns a day round
the long-boat, and then a pull at the scuttle-butt."
"For weeks there has been no work done," resumed Mr. Quail; "all our
spunyarn and chafing-gear are worn out, and you might as well expect
them to polish the chain-cable, or brighten up the best bower, as
prepare for an emergency, or get the fellows even to wash or mend
their own clothes."
"If a man-of-war hove in sight, I'd put an end to their sogering!"
said Captain Phillips, still pacing about. "I'd make them toe the
mark, and work the old iron out of them. I'd have them all seized
up, and made spread-eagles of at the gangway, the coloured vermin."
"A worse lot were never shipped, unless on board a Spanish pirate,"
said Mr. Quail, with another groan, as he thought of plump, jolly
Mrs. Quail, and their five little Quails, at that moment, doubtless
all a-bed in their pretty little rose-covered cottage near the
Windmill-hill at Gravesend.
"Is there not one on whom we could depend?" asked Mr. Basset, in
faltering accents.
"Not one, sir," replied Captain Phillips; "not one, except Boy Joe,
the steward, and he is not worth much."
"We are in a desperate situation, certainly," said Heriot. "But I am
most concerned for you and--and your daughters, Mr. Basset."
Tears started to the lawyer's eyes, and he wrung the young doctor's
readily-proffered hand.
"And I, too, Mr. Basset, feel for you and your two dear girls--though
perhaps this business may be all talk and sogering; yet I confess it
don't look like it," said the captain. "Thank Heaven I am a
bachelor, and have no one depending upon me but the son of my poor
brother Bill, that was drowned in the Straits of Sunda, and my life
is insured on his account, so that is all right; but these young
ladies----"
Phillips paused, for Mr. Basset, who was reclining on the cabin
locker, covered his face with his hands, and groaned aloud.
"We have no time to lose in preparing to meet these rascals," said
Dr. Heriot, with growing confidence. "We must see what arms we can
muster, and endeavour to use them too. D--n it, Captain Phillips, we
must show fight in some fashion, and not all walk the plank without
making some of them walk it also. I have a pair of good rifled
pistols."
"And I have two six-barrelled revolvers and a fowling-piece," added
the captain.
"Sixteen shots," said Hawkshaw, brightening a little. "We can
barricade the cabin, and defend it with these against them."
"We are seven, including myself," said Phillips.
"Seven?" said Mr. Basset, looking up.
"Yes, sir; there are the two mates, the doctor, yourself, and I,
Captain Hawkshaw, and Joe the steward."
"But they are eighteen in number, and armed too."
"Only with sheath-knives, so far as we know; but then there are
hatchets, cleavers, handspikes, and capstan-bars, with anything else
that will form a weapon."
"Oh that we were nearer the coast of Africa, that we might all get
into a boat, and quietly leave the ship on a dark night!" said Mr.
Basset, wringing his hands, while Dr. Heriot unlocked a case of
pistols--the parting gift of his class-fellows on his leaving the old
College of King James VI.--and proceeded at once to load and cap
them, after which he put all the ammunition in his pockets.
"Fear for your girls bewilders you, sir," said Captain Phillips, in a
low voice, to Mr. Basset. "That, perhaps, is natural; but to be
landed on the coast of Africa might not mend matters much with you
and them, if you fell in with some houseless Dutch bushmen or wild
Cape Caffres; and as for me, I shall never quit my ship while a plank
of her holds together."
"Captain Phillips," said young Heriot, with his teeth clenched, and
his eyes flashing, as he thought of sweet Rose Basset, whose last
kiss seemed yet to linger on his lip, "if they keep quiet until
morning, I have a mind to call forward Pedro Barradas in front of the
crew, tell him what I have overheard, and then, as an example, shoot
him dead before the rest!"
The captain vehemently opposed this idea as rash, and added:
"You are very risky for a Scotsman; you would only perish under the
knives and handspikes of the rest, and thus bring destruction the
sooner on us all."
"Oh, if a man-o'-war would but come in sight!" groaned Mr. Basset.
"They are seldom so far off the Cape; and we are a good way to the
southward of it already."
"Could we not sound the crew? All may not be so bad as the
Barradas," said Hawkshaw.
"They are all alike, confound 'em!" rejoined Captain Phillips, as he
brought from his cabin the two revolvers and the fowling-piece, all
of which he proceeded quietly, but quickly, to load and cap.
The arms and ammunition were distributed among them, and Hawkshaw
really handled the "six-shooter" like a man who was used to it, and,
doubtless, when in Mexico, his life and his food had frequently
depended on the goodness of his aim.
"If we only take care and fire steadily, we may dispose of them all
in case of an attack," said Dr. Heriot, who, with the captain, was
the most resolute of the little band. "Our chief aim must be to
prevent a surprise."
After a council of war, it was arranged that the ladies should be
warned against leaving the cabin or venturing much on deck, and that
they should be kept in ignorance of the why and wherefore.
That the seven men in the cabin should stand staunchly by each other,
and never undress when lying in their berths, so as to be ready for
instant service.
That one at a time should hold a strict watch on the companion-way
and cabin door, and that all should keep their arms loaded and their
ammunition constantly about them.
That as little canvas as possible should be kept no the ship, so that
aloft she might be ready for any sudden emergency, squall, or
catastrophe.
A large trunk, full of Mr. Basset's law-books (which next morning was
to have been shot into the hold as lumber), was placed near the outer
cabin door, and lashed by one of its handles to a brass ring-bolt,
and so arranged that, sluing round the other end, it effectually
barricaded the sliding-door that opened to the steerage and
companion-ladder.
To defend this avenue in case of an attack, and so sell their lives
as dearly as possible, or, it might be, to shoot all their assailants
down in succession, were the simple but stern resolutions come to.
These preliminaries adjusted, the captain, armed with his revolver,
took the first two hours' spell. The rest retired to their various
berths, and lay down with their clothes on, and their weapons beside
them.
The two hours passed away in silence.
The captain went on deck, and sent the second mate, Foster, below, in
a not very enviable frame of mind, after hearing what was on the
_tapis_, for, like Mr. Quail--
"He, poor fellow! had a wife and children--
Two things for dying people quite bewildering."
So, with a beating and anxious heart, he lay down on a locker, with a
sharp hatchet under him--the only weapon that came to hand.
The ship was still going large, with the breeze abaft the beam, and
the fore and main studding-sails set. Joe, the steward, was at the
wheel; the light in the forecastle bunks was extinguished now, and
the watch on deck were all grouped, in silence apparently, to leeward
of the long-boat.
All seemed still for that night, or rather the remainder of the
morning, when the captain warned the miserable Mr. Basset to take the
next "spell," or watch, as sentinel at the cabin door.
Pale and sleepless, with bloodshot eyes, the poor man received the
loaded revolver, with all the timidity and awkwardness of one who had
never handled such a weapon before, and dreading lest it might
explode of its own accord, like a loaded fire-wheel, and thus shoot
himself and everybody else; but anon the thought of his daughters
nerved his heart and steadied his hand.
Slowly, as if Time stood still, the minutes passed; and when, as
usual, the ship's bell clanged at each half-hour on deck, it sounded
in his ears and in his soul like the knell of doom!
So the poor father continued to watch in breathless anxiety; now
pacing the carpeted cabin in miserable restlessness, then seating
himself upon the stern locker, with the revolver on his knee, and his
hands over his face, breathing an unuttered prayer for his darling
daughters; now listening, keenly as a hunted hare, at the door of
their little cabin, to hear their soft, low breathing. Anon, seeking
the companion-way, as if the confined air of the ship stifled him,
and looking up at the mizzen-rigging towering into the starry sky,
where the mizzen-topsail, topgallantsail, and the driver, with the
boom and gaff, spread between him and heaven like a broad gray cloud
of canvas.
Then the thought of his dead wife, and their once dear happy home in
England far away.
By a freak of memory, past hours of happiness, of joviality and
frivolity--hours spent amid the flowery and leafy seclusion of Laurel
Lodge, came crowding on him, with faces of friends, their voices,
smiles, and little episodes; the green sunny lawn, the stately chase
of Acton-Rennel, the Norman cross on Cherrytree Hill, and the great
yew that shaded his wife's grave in that quiet old English
churchyard, where he might never lie: all these came before him now,
and he marvelled in his aching breast if the horrors that overhung
him now were not a nightmare, and all a dreadful dream!
Ethel and Rose, so pure, so fair, so lovely, and so highly bred, to
be in such peril; at the mercy of such men as those who formed the
crew of the _Hermione_, and far from all human succour on the wide,
wide, open sea.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SAIL TO WINDWARD.
Under the interlaced crosses of Great Britain--our brave old
union-jack--a very different crew manned that good little ship the
_Princess_, of London, which we last left when dropping the giant
cone of Tristan d'Acunha astern, and bearing on her voyage towards
Tasmania.
Under Tom Bartelot's command, all went well and prosperously, and his
ship had fine weather and spanking topsail breezes, after leaving the
romantic Isle of Tristan.
Anxious to be useful and to kill time, Morley Ashton had applied
himself to seamanship, and, in seeking to master all the mysteries
thereof, became the peculiar pupil of old Noah Gawthrop, who
confidently undertook "to make a man and a sailor of him, before they
saw Wan Demon's Land."
He could soon dip his hands in a bucket of tar without wincing; slush
the mast, from the royal-masthead down, without becoming squeamish;
he could box the compass, take his trick at the helm, and achieve
many clever things, from holding the log-reel upwards to sending down
a royal-yard without mistake or blunder, which Noah told him "was one
of the prime feats of seamanship, which even the queen on the throne
couldn't do."
The first time he accomplished this, was when a squall was coming on.
Ben Plank had the fore-royal, Noah the main-royal, and Morley the
mizzen.
His spar was certainly the lightest, with a smaller sail, but he had
it struck and sent down before the others, greatly to the delight of
old Noah, who, with all his ugliness, which was undeniable, was a
genuine salt of the old school--a regular British tar, with his
slouching shoulders and light gait, swinging arms, and half-closed
hands, that were always ready to "tally on" to anything; a comical
twinkle in his eye, and who believed in whistling for wind as truly
as the Turkish skipper who pours oil upon the sea, in the hope that
it may float to Mecca, for the same useful purpose.
Noah bore on his breast, engraved in gunpowder, a little romance of
his younger days--a sailor and a girl standing on the sea-shore. In
the background (or offing, to speak more correctly) lay a ship, with
her topsails loose, hove-apeak to her anchor, while the smoke from a
gun--the signal for sea--curled over her quarter. Under the male
figure were the initials "N.G.," and under the girl's were--what we
won't say, for in them, lay the pet secret of old Noah's honest
heart. The ship, however, he often pointed to with pride, saying it
was a "lovely pictur' of her Majesty's ship the _Haurora_, of fifty
guns, as was--an ugly smoke-jack now, with a screw-propeller in her
starn."
The weather was cool, almost cold, at times, and frequently icebergs
were in sight, with their white glistening pinnacles standing sharply
defined against the sky, and shaded off with pale green or purple
tints, that blended with the deep blue of the sea.
Tom Bartelot's cheerful temperament, his songs and his bonhomie, and
Morrison's queer legends of Scotland and the sea, together with grave
and earnest advice, and confidence in a Providence who ordered all
things for the best, had a good effect upon Morley Ashton's spirits,
which might have sunk, circumstanced as he was, amid the monotony of
a sea voyage, with foreshadowed fears of evil tidings on reaching the
Isle of France, after making a tour so circuitous as Tasmania.
Ignorant of the unlooked-for detention of the _Hermione_ at the
Canaries, and of the series of foul winds she had encountered, Morley
never doubted that now the Bassets must have reached their
destination, and been installed in their new home; that Mr. Basset
must have entered on his official duties, and if they were
accompanied by one so enterprising as Cramply Hawkshaw, it was
difficult to foretell how Cupid and Fortune--blind deities
both--might reward his perseverance, and thus cast a fatal blight
upon the hopes of our hero who, like a poor "pilgrim of the heart,"
or a knight-errant of old, was traversing the sea from shore to shore
in search of a lost love.
One day, as Morley trod the deck to and fro listlessly, he was
startled by the unusual, or, at least, unexpected cry of--
"Land, ho!"
Telescope in hand, he sprang up the weather-rigging.
"Land it is, indeed," said Tom Bartelot, shading his eyes with his
hand, and peering over the weather-quarter.
"What land, Tom?"
"Diego Alvarez, or Gough's Island. I have been looking out for it
all forenoon. Keep her full and by--full and by, lad," he added to
the steersman; "keep her closer to the wind--see how that foretopsail
shivers."
This was about six bells (_i.e._, 3 P.M.) on a fine, clear afternoon.
The hill of Gough's Island arose dim and blue upon their weather-bow.
Discovered long, long ago, by an adventurous Portuguese mariner, who
bestowed upon it its name, it is a lonely and desolate place, covered
with moss and sea-grass, the abode only of sea-elephants and the
fur-seal. It was named anew by Captain Gough, of the _Richmond_,
when on his voyage to China in 1731.
After leaving it astern, good fortune seemed to abandon the
_Princess_ and her crew.
A series of foul winds that veered round every point of the compass,
with heavy gusts and squally weather, beset her, and so cloudy was
the sky, that for several days Bartelot and his mate were quite
unable to make an observation--_i.e._, to take the sun's altitude at
noon.
In one squall the mizzen-topniast was carried away, being broken
right off at the cap, the heel with the fid alone remaining in the
top.
"So, friend Morley," said Tom, "if this kind of work and these foul
winds continue, we may see the Table Mountain, and have to run into
the bay for fresh water."
"At the Cape of Good Hope?"
"Yes. Then if you wish to have a day's run in Lubberland, you may
come ashore with me; and who can say," he added, kindly, on
perceiving how Ashton's countenance fell at the prospect of fresh
delays, "but we may there find a craft bound for the island of Paul
and Virginia, and get your hammock swung aboard of her at once?"
One day the weather cleared a little, and the sun broke forth a few
minutes before noon.
Bartelot and Morrison betook them to quadrant, sextant, and chart,
and found they were within some 300 miles of the Cape of Storms.
After this the sky resumed its sombre and inky hue; the sea was gray,
save where the sun shot his beams like a flood of yellow light
through a rent in the clouds, and lit the waves below with a golden
sheen, long and steadily, about fifteen miles distant on their
weather-bow.
"Sail, ho!" shouted Ben Plank, who, with some others, was up aloft
taking advantage of this bright blink, to get the spare
mizzen-topmast shipped, with all its hamper and gearing.
"Where away, Ben?" asked Morley, snatching Tom's telescope from its
brass hooks under the companion-hatch.
"There, sir, in that streak of light to windward."
Looming large as coming out of the haze, Morley saw a large,
square-rigged vessel, with all her fore-and-aft canvas set, running
close-hauled on a different current of wind, which did not as yet
affect the _Princess_, and which would probably carry her ahead.
Her canvas was white as snow, and shone like the outspread wings of a
swan in the bright gleam of sunshine, and in strong relief against
the gray and dusky sky beyond.
She was visible but for a few minutes--so briefly, indeed, that
Morrison had not time to run the ensign up to the gaff-peak, when she
seemed to dart into the gray obscurity ahead, and to vanish like a
phantom that melted into the sky; but though invisible, it was
evident that the _Princess_, a faster sailer, would soon leave her
far astern.
In that large square-rigged ship, that spanked along on a taut
bowline, with the white foam curling under her black bows, and flying
over her gilded catheads, how little Morley Ashton imagined that
Ethel Basset--the Ethel of his hopes by day and dreams by night, the
centre around which all his aspirations and his life itself
revolved--was seated side by side with Hawkshaw on one of the
quarter-deck seats, watching, through a fifteen-mile lorgnette, or
racing-glass, the outline of the _Princess_, whose canvas being all
in shadow came blackly out, for a few minutes, from the sombre
atmosphere to leeward, and then melted from their view for ever.
CHAPTER IX.
THE STORM.
Varied by occasional torrents of rain, black, cloudy, and squally
skies, the regular "Cape weather" continued after this, and the
_Princess_ was soon running under close-reefed topsails. So
frequently were the reefs taken in and shaken out, that Bill Morrison
said they reminded him of an old Scottish seaman's rhyme:
"Gif the rain pouirs ere the wind swurl,
Your topsails lowse and gar them furl;
But gif the wind blaws ere pouirs the rain,
Your topsails lowse, and hoist again."
Even the gay spirit of Tom Bartelot became depressed by the gloomy
and threatening state of the weather, and he spent nearly his whole
time on deck, or in observing the compasses, the barometer, and state
of the pumps.
Two days after the strange sail had been seen no the weather-bow, the
glass was still falling, while the sea and wind were rising.
At seven bells, after taking a hurried breakfast Tom found the wind
increasing to a gale, so he took in the maintopgallantsail, the
second reef of his topsails, and set the mainstaysail.
By midday he had to summon all hands on deck.
"Close-reef the topsails, furl mainsail and fore and mizzen-topsail."
These orders followed each other rapidly.
Soon after, the _Princess_ was flying through the gloomy sea under a
close-reefed maintopsail and reefed foresail, shipping a great deal
of water the while, and labouring hard, as her pumps worked ill.
After this, the wind began to die away, the sea went somewhat down,
and then more canvas was spread on the ship; but there were many
indications in the sky and atmosphere which filled Tom and Morrison,
and Gawthrop, too, for he had his nameless nautical instincts, with
anxieties which the younger men of the crew could not fail to
perceive.
"How's the barometer, Morrison?" was the frequent question.
"Still falling slowly, sir."
"What do you think the night will be?" asked Morley.
"There's a gloom, and a closeness too, indicating thunder."
"Aye," said Noah Gawthrop, who had the wheel, "the wind and the sea
will make a fine bobbery together in these parts afore the morning
watch, is called."
"Steward--Ben Plank, get the dead lights shipped," cried Bartelot,
"here comes the squall again! In with all the light sails, Morrison;
hurry forward--'way aloft lads, and lay out on the yards!"
Thus, by six o'clock, she was again running under close-reefed
topsails and foresail.
The clouds were banking up in strange, wild, and fantastic forms to
windward; black and sombre, they were altering every moment,
revealing weird-like patches of white and livid sky beyond. At some
parts of the horizon the blended sea and sky had the darkness of
night, while in the zenith there was at times the brightness almost
of noon.
"I don't like the aspect of all this, Morley," said Bartelot, in a
low voice to his friend; "we are in for a rough, wild night, and I
wish it were well past."
The wind veered rapidly round half of the compass; sometimes it
seemed to blow from all quarters at once. It came in strong and hot
gusts, while, through the bosom of the black clouds at the horizon,
the red lightning seemed to plunge its seething bolts in the sea, and
to add to the sublime terror of such a scene; the atmosphere was so
sulphurous that, at times, luminous lights like fireballs or meteors
were seen on every masthead, yardarm, and beam-end.
"Furl the topsails, lower the yards upon the cap, leave nothing set
but the close-reefed foresail," were now Bartelot's orders.
Morley had never before seen so wild a tempest; but he was now seaman
enough to scramble aloft with the rest, and soon found himself on the
foot-rope, and "laying out" on the arm of the main-yard, and, as he
was first up at the weather-earring, there holding on with all his
strength, for so weird was the scene below, the napping of the
canvas, the snapping of ropes, that cracked like coach-whips in the
bellowing wind, the swaying of the rigging, and the pitching of the
ship, that a terrible nausea came over him, together with a
giddiness, and had not a seaman, named Erwin, who was by his side,
caught him, he might have toppled into the sea, that roared and
seethed below.
Ben Plank, being a strong fellow, had his post in the slings of the
mainyard, to pack the sail, and make up the bunt, or stow the heavy
middle portion. Soon all was snug aloft; but again the wind changed
so rapidly, that it flew round from the south-east to the north-west,
and then with a mighty sound of rending and tearing, the foresail was
split to ribbons, that flapped and cracked like rifle shots in the
tempest, while the ship, which seemed almost enveloped in lightning
for an instant, was almost thrown on her beam-ends.
"Stand from under, men--there go the masts!" shouted Bartelot through
his trumpet, and a stunning peal of thunder bellowed over the ocean
at the same moment.
Then followed a mighty crash, as if the heavens were falling on the
deck, and all shrunk instinctively aside, or stooped downward, as the
three topmasts and jib-boom broke off at the caps, and the _Princess_
was a wreck in a moment.
"Hatchets--cut away the hamper to ease the ship!" was now the order,
and, in a short time, the tangled wilderness of yards, masts,
cross-trees and blocks, stays and rigging, on being cut adrift,
whirled out of sight to leeward, carrying with it the unfortunate
seaman Erwin, who had been caught by the body in the bight of a rope.
By the fall of the mizzen-topniast the starboard quarter-boat was
dashed to pieces, and the other, which was a life-boat, was torn from
its davits and vanished in the darkness like a child's toy, as a
tremendous sea pooped the ship.
"Tom," gasped Morley, as he clung, half-drowned, or stunned, to a
belaying-pin, "are we indeed lost--do you think all is over?"
"Nearly so--if this continues long," was the composed reply. "Hold
on, lads, here comes another sea!"
Now the black waves continued to burst over the vessel with a series
of thundering explosions, as if determined to overwhelm it, till all
around was foam, as white as snow; but though labouring at times with
her gunwale almost under water, her whole deck strewed with fragments
and splinters of timber, bulwarks, buckets, pieces of rope, blocks,
sails, and spars, that were washed to and fro, and while the crew,
knee-deep in this debris, clung to shrouds and belaying-pins, she
rose up buoyantly ever and anon, on the crest of a wave, with all the
water streaming from her, and all the while the wild wind blew in
gusts, and bellowed like an unchained fiend. Amid the terrible scene
another seaman was swept overboard and drowned; the long-boal was
uprooted from its lashings and chocks over the main-hatch, and
carried over the side, by a sea that came right amidships, and tore
away half the starboard-bulwarks, so, fearing that the ship would
founder, Bartelot, with a heavy heart, gave orders to cut away the
lower masts.
The men were soon at work with sharp axes, and, while keeping afoot
with difficulty under the drenching seas, shipped every moment by the
labouring hull, after cutting through the shrouds and stays, a few
blows at the foot of each mast, readily sent them, in succession,
crashing to leeward, where they vanished amid foam and obscurity.
Noah Gawthrop had just relinquislied the now useless wheel, when a
wave broke over the quarter, tearing the rudder from its bands, and
dashing the wheel to pieces.
"All's over with the poor _Princess_, Morley," said Tom, with a
groan; "she won't outlive the night, I fear."
Morrison now came aft to report that the chain-pump had given way,
the other had become choked, and that water was rising fast in the
well.
"She's sprung a leak, sir, somewhere about her fore-foot, so it is a
bad look-out for us all," said Plank, the carpenter.
By this time the bulwarks were all torn away from the stanchions and
timber-heads amidships by the sea, which now made clean breaches over
the entire hull.
Nothing could be done now by the crew, but to leave the ship to her
fate, and to hold on by whatever offered itself, and wait the event
of the storm abating, or, what seemed much more likely, of the ship
foundering, by settling bodily down into the trough of the sea, and
rising never more. Her cargo, too, sugar and tobacco, were the
reverse of buoyant under the circumstances; so now, Morley, Bartelot,
Morrison, the chief mate, Plank, the carpenter, and old Noah, were
all grouped about the quarter-deck, some holding on by the
timber-heads, others by the stump of the mizzenmast, while the rest
of the crew were grouped forward, where they lashed themselves to the
stump of the foremast, the barrel of the windlass, and gallows-bitts;
but so dark was the night, so terrible the sea, and so loud the wind,
that neither party could see or hear anything of the other.
Suddenly there was a rending crash!
An invocation of heaven rose to the lips of all, and a wild,
despairing cry from those in the forecastle reached the ears of our
friends on the quarter-deck. Morley felt the whole ship tremble
beneath his feet, as the entire quarter was burst up, or torn away
from the rest of the hull, and with his companions he found himself
floating on it, as on a species of raft, and up to his neck in water
every moment, while whirled away from the ship, of which they saw no
more, and which, no doubt, went speedily down with all on board.
Just as this happened, Plank, the carpenter, was swept away,
clutching with despair a fragment of wreck.
On this frail remnant of the shattered ship, the other four
unfortunates found themselves adrift on that wild, dark midnight sea,
which whirled it to and fro like a cork on the black, tempestuous
waves.
CHAPTER X.
THE FOUR CASTAWAYS.
"Lord have mercy on us!" escaped the lips of all.
It would seem that, by the strength and violence of the sea, the
entire quarter-deck abaft the mizzen-mast, with a portion of its
bulwarks, the taffrail, some parts of the stern windows and quarter
galleries, had been torn from the ship, and this crazy fragment was
all that intervened between our four friends and eternity.
Being level with the sea it could not be capsized, which, at least,
was one good property.
Lashed to such parts of it as were available, the poor victims clung
there in desperation and silence, waiting, and praying in their
hearts that the storm would abate; and now, as if its errand had been
done, its object accomplished in the total destruction of the
unfortunate _Princess_, the gusty wind began to lull gradually,
though the agitated sea rolled high and black as ever.
As the common saying has it, the waves "ran mountains high;" but it
must be borne in mind, that few waves rise more than ten feet above
the general level of the water, which, when ten more are given for
the trough of the sea, makes the whole height from base to crest
twenty feet--sufficiently high to be terrible in aspect and effect.
Over the raft of the _Princess_ (for it was little better) those vast
hills of water made a thundering breach every instant, or came
surging up through the apertures, from whence the companion and
skylight had been torn away.
The taffrail was strong, and it was chiefly to it that Bartelot,
Morley, Morrison, and Gawthrop lashed themselves, for gradually all
that remained of the bulwarks were torn away, and the stump of the
mizzenmast was soon worked or sucked out by the sea.
There was an appalling sense of loneliness, of dread and desolation,
and of too probable death being near at hand, though, perhaps, all
the more terrible, if it were protracted.
So the fearful night wore on; the black scud was passing away, the
stars shone out, and the four castaways began to hope that morning
was at hand. Yet, ruthlessly, wave after wave came rolling over
them, each with its high and monstrous head, curling white with snowy
foam, though its sides were black and inky. Then there would be a
roar as of thunder when each burst over the fragment of wreck,
engulfing and half choking the poor dripping wretches who clung to it
in silence and despair.
But now, as dawn, began to spread rapidly over the east, the sea went
down, and the wind also; the waves ceased to roll over the broken
deck, which floated steadily, and as it rose upheaved on each
successive swell, the occupants cast around them, eager glances from
their bloodshot eyes, in the hope of descrying a sail.
Dawn came thoroughly in--a cloudy morning, but no sunshine. Ere long
they could see the whole horizon; but there no vestige of a sail was
visible, and now they looked blankly in each other's pallid faces.
"My poor crew!" said Bartelot, with a thick sob in his throat, but
the exclamation had escaped him many times before; "second-mate,
carpenter, sail-maker, steward, cook, boys, and all--all gone but us,
Morley. Sad--deplorable, is it not?"
"Do not grieve for what is irreparable," said Morrison.
"If I saw you, Bill Morrison, my friend Ashton, and my old shipmate
Noah, all safe, I don't care if I were shark-meat this minute," he
resumed, bitterly.
"Don't say so, Bartelot, my old boy," replied Morley, with an
affectation of spirit he was far from feeling: "you have behaved
bravely, and done all that man could do to save your ship. Take
courage; you have buoyed me up many a day, when my heart had sunk to
zero. Let me try to cheer you in turn."
"Cheer!" Tom repeated, shaking his head sadly, and still more
bitterly, as he surveyed their home upon the waters.
"Oh, Heaven! to think of this being a bit of the old _Princess_ we
all loved so well!" groaned Morrison, looking almost affectionately
on the frail planks over which the sea rippled at every heave.
"Aye, sir," chimed in Noah; "it are odd, but it was a bit of that
same blessed deck, as was holystoned and prayer-booked, swabbed and
squilgeed of a morning till it were white as snow--whiter a'most than
the deck of her Majesty's yacht. I've poured half the sea over that
deck, I have, when the head-pump was rigged for'ard of a morning, and
now what is it, but only a bit of drift-wood, and we a clinging to
it, like four wet barnacles? Lor' help us!"
"And bless our poor shipmates!" added Bartelot, pointing upwards.
"They are all gone, sir--found sailors' graves, every one of them,"
said Morrison; "the ship would fill, and go down the moment she
parted aft."
"But you've done your duty, sir," said Noah; "and can clear yourself
of the ship's loss before any naval court in any part of the world.
I only wish we were all afore one this blessed minute, instead o'
drifting about here, without compass, biscuit, or 'bacca."
Now came the oppressive reflection that they were without food and
without water.
Morley had read very recently the "Paul Huet" of Eugene Sue, and the
more true story on which his romance is founded--the awful wreck of
the _Medusa_, French frigate, and thus the horrors which her crew
endured upon the raft came vividly and painfully before him now.
The saline property of the atmosphere, their long and repeated
immersions in the ocean, the quantities of its water they had been
compelled to swallow when the drenching waves broke over them, soon
excited thirst. This longing was increased by heat, when the sun
came forth; but as yet they had no desire for food.
All their energies were bent on watching the horizon around them, but
no sail appeared; so the wreck continued to float listlessly about,
without making way apparently in any direction.
A boat they might have rowed in the direction of the Cape of Good
Hope, and though they might have failed to reach the coast, while
minus food and water, they would always have increased their chances
of being picked up by a passing ship, homeward or outward bound; but
on the wreck they were helpless, as if upon a desert rock fixed amid
the sea.
The first day passed slowly, wearily on, and the sun verged westward
in his course.
Now night descended on the sea. There was no moon, but the stars
shone clearly and sharply.
Worn by emotion, by toil, suffering, and lack of sleep, they trusted
to the security of their lashings, and strove to find rest, or
oblivion, in slumber; but a half-wakeful doze was all they could
achieve. Each body lay, to all appearance, torpid; but the anxious
soul slept not, so each had his own keen active thoughts and dreams.
Tom Bartelot conjured up a certain pretty little English face, whose
smiling blue eyes were associated with many a summer evening walk
among the sylvan scenery of Richmond Park, in the gardens of Kew, and
visits to Hampton Court.
Morrison's heart was in his old mother's cottage, where he first saw
the light, by the broad waters of the Dee, that roll from the hills
of Crathie and Braemar in "the bonnie north country;" for he had
intended, at the close of another voyage, to go home to Scotland,
with all his earnings and wages, to spend them with her, and for her
only; but all that seemed hopeless now, though the hum of the sea in
his ears, as it rippled against the wreck, suggested the surf that in
boyhood he had seen breaking over the Black Dog of Belhelvie.*
* A rock on the Aberdeenshire coast, so named from its appearance at
low water.
Poor old Gawthrop, with his grizzled whiskers, and lips baked in dry
salt, dreamt of neither father, mother, nor love--for all who loved
old Noah were dead long ago; but he had a vision of a stiff jorum of
"Boatswain's grog--just half and half,"
such as he used to get in the _Haurora_, of fifty guns; while Morley
Ashton thought, and dreamed, and murmured to himself of Ethel Basset.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
He had now been long absent from Ethel, and been long mourned by her
as one who was lost to her for ever, and numbered with the dead. And
now death menaced him again!
He had been saved from destruction by his friend--saved from a death
by starvation, or despair, at Acton Chine; but only to perish with
him here amid the lonely waters of the South Atlantic; for this time
it seemed that he was too surely doomed to die--an idea rendered all
the more bitter by a conviction that Ethel would never, and could
never, know the dark story of his disappearance, for no mortal lips
could tell her save those of Hawkshaw.
Morley felt that he might perish now; that she would never learn the
true character of his rival; of his own awful escape from Acton
Chine; of his journey to Rio de Janeiro; of his sufferings on the
raft, till relieved by death; of how he had been tossed hither and
thither by fortune's unrelenting hate, and how deeply and devotedly
he loved her.
By this last misfortune, the wreck, more than all the others, he
might, by dying, leave her to become the wife of Hawkshaw, the
would-be assassin!
So another night passed over, and the raft, or wreck, still floated
darkly, silently there; and now those who were thereon had ceased to
speak, even in whispers.
Another day dawned--a day of glorious sunshine; but no food, no
water, no hope came with it; for not a sail was in sight, and their
eyes ached with weariness in searching the faint blue watery line
that marked where the sky and ocean met.
They were becoming very feeble now, and the cravings of nature were
maddening.
Their hair was encrusted by salt, as white as hoar-frost, their lips
were baked, their tongues parched. Already they had become gaunt and
white, hollow-cheeked, and old-looking, with eyes bloodshot and wild.
Their feet and legs were sore and sodden by long immersion in the
brine, and their whole bodies were rendered stiff and weary by the
wet ropes which lashed them to the taffrail--a means of security
which they dared not unloose or relinquish for a moment.
Ere long they were in a species of delirium.
Hunger brought its own fantastic and exciting suggestions of
well-cooked viands, of hearty homely dishes, steaming and savoury,
roasts and stews, puddings and pies; but thirst, agonising thirst,
suggested ideas of cool rivers, amid which snows were dissolving; of
lonely mountain tarns, where the brown trout sported under the
broad-leaved water-docks, and where the wild bird swam; of glassy
meres, of crystal rills, that murmured under old oak trees, or shady
drooping willows, with dark green sprays, and water-lilies that
dipped therein; of iced champagne, that effervesced in crystal
goblets; of sparkling hock and seltzer-water; of jolly London stout,
all brown, with its creamy froth; of every impossible luxury that
they had not, and never more might feel upon their cracked lips and
dry, hard, arid tongues!
A dead bird!--it was a huge albatross, with wings outspread--floated
slowly past them on the glassy oil-like sea, thus indicating a
current that ran eastward.
They were all too weak to attempt to swim for it; so, wolfishly, with
haggard eyes and longing appetites they watched the wretched carrion
for hours, until it floated out of sight.
Then three nautilus shells, with purple sails outspread, passed near
them, and, to Morley's excited vision, they seemed like large Roman
galleys, or fairy barges; at a vast distance--such craft as he had
read of in legends of the Rhine, in fairy tales, and knightly ballads.
And now came Mother Carey's chickens, hopping and tripping about the
wreck, and on the ripples round it--merrily and happily, like brown
sparrows in a farmyard at home.
About the setting of the sun, they were roused from their
listlessness by the sudden apparition of a large vessel,
barque-rigged--that is, with the fore and mainmasts of a ship and a
mizzen like a schooner's mainmast, with a long spanker-boom--bearing
down towards them.
There was a fine breeze blowing; she had all her canvas set, and ran
on a taut bowline.
"A ship! a sail! a sail!" they exclaimed together.
"Now, blessed be Heaven!" said Tom, "we are saved at last!
Hurrah--hurrah!"
She was painted a kind of yellowish white; her side chains and
hawse-holes, and all her iron work, looked red and rusty, as if she
had been long in tropical waters.
With almost inarticulate lips they sought to hail her, and waved
their hands in frantic glee as she came on, with the white foam
curling under her bluff bows, where the old copper was green, and
covered with barnacles. Her side was lined with the faces of her
crew, who seemed to be in earnest conference, and some of whom
gesticulated violently.
She seemed to be foreign by her build and rig, as well as by the
scarlet and blue shirts and fur caps of her men.
Now she was close to them, and the white flag, with the black eagle
of Prussia, was hoisted at her gaff peak; now she would certainly be
hove in the wind, with a mainsail laid aback, and have a boat lowered
to relieve them.
So close was she, that the wheel revolved to keep her away a point or
two, lest she might run the frail wreck under with her bluff bows, as
she sheered past.
Tom hailed in English "to relieve them from misery--to save them, for
the love of mercy and of God!"
He spoke imploringly, for a sudden doubt had chilled his heart.
Hoarsely the hail was responded to in German, and the barque passed
on--on, without lifting tack or sheet, without lowering a boat, or
tossing a single biscuit, to those four men who were all but dying on
the wreck! The Prussian--she was the _Einicheit_, of Dantzic--stood
away on her course, and left Bartelot and his three friends in an
agony of disappointment and despair that bordered on madness!*
* For the infamous conduct of this Prussian crew to a Scottish ship
in distress, see any paper of May 26, 1864.
With such terrible emotions in their hearts, as no pen could portray,
they saw her slowly diminish in distance, and vanish into the yellow
haze that overspread the evening sea. Then once more night descended
on the world of waters, and again they were alone--more alone, they
felt, than ever, for even their fellow-beings had abandoned them.
During all that night Morley Ashton was delirious.
Dreams and thoughts of Acton Chase and woods, that rustled their
green leaves in the soft west wind; of golden fields, of bearded
grain, that waved like yellow billows beneath its breath; of the
voices of the larks that soared aloft into the blue sky, and of the
cushat dove that cooed to its mate in the leafy dingle; the ring of
the village chimes, and of children's merry voices--came strongly to
memory, with the comforts of the land he never more might
tread--English home he never more might see.
Anon, strange monsters seemed to come out of the starlit bosom of the
glassy deep, to bob and dance, to glare and jabber, with faces green,
white, lilac, and rose-coloured; and all as if to mock their misery.
These, however, were only seaweed and foambells, or floating blubber,
to which the water gave unusual size and phosphorescent light, while
the sufferers' giddy brains and weakened eyesight lent them wild and
fantastic forms.
Poor Tom Bartelot must have been quite deranged; for more than once
Morley heard him singing what seemed to be a scrap of his old
drinking song, and his voice sunk into a childish quaver at the
couplet:
"Oh, deign, ye kind powers, with this wish to comply,
May I always be drinking yet always be dry."
Then he suddenly changed his note to a kind of hoarse wail, as he
sang:
"King Death was a rare old fellow,
He sat where no sun could shine;
He lifted his hand so yellow,
And pledged us in coal-black wine."
He soon after became senseless, and hung, as if asleep, drooping,
alas! it might be, dead, in the lashings that secured him to the
taffrail.
Towards the morning of that terrible night, Morley felt life ebbing
within him, and, as it ebbed, he had a last wild dream--wild, indeed;
but too delicious to be true.
A long, long time seemed to elapse, but another day had dawned, and a
ship--the false, cruel Prussian barque of yesterday--had returned in
quest of them. She lay to, a boat came off, he heard the rattle of
the fall tackles, and the splash of the water. They were, he
thought, rescued; he felt the lashing that bound his swollen limbs
cut by a seaman's jack-knife, and now kind faces and kind hands were
around him, and gentle voices were murmuring in his ear.
Cool wine and grateful cordials seemed to be poured between his
parched lips, and then to be suddenly withheld when he would have
imbibed more.
Oh, the madness of this tantalising and most feverish dream, for
Ethel Basset seemed to be there!
Ethel, with her sweetly feminine and dear affectionate face, was
bending over him; her lips were close to his, her kiss was on his
cheek; but he could neither respond nor speak, for Hawkshaw's visage,
pale and wrathful, was between them, with knitted brows and glaring
eyes, as he had seen it last, when he fell beneath his hand at Acton
Chine.
Then he seemed to sleep, to die; for he felt and remembered no more.
CHAPTER XI.
CAPTAIN HAWKSHAW MAKES A DISCOVERY TO LEEWARD.
On the night the _Princess_ was lost, the _Hermione_ did not escape
the same storm, which probably traversed in a circle all the waters
of the South Atlantic.
It was no doubt the mere skirt of the tempest which affected her, as
the sky around was clear, and the stars shone brilliantly.
Her jib was blown out of the bolt-rope and split to ribbons, and she
had her topsails close-reefed.
"Stow what remains of the jib," ordered Captain Phillips; "into the
netting with it--quick, men; cheerily now, and up with the
foretopmast-staysail."
As soon as this was done, he added:
"Go below, the watch, and take a nap if you can, for it may blow
great guns before morning."
"It is blowing three gales in one as it is," said Mr. Quail. "The
water comes waist-high in the lee-scuppers, and washes right chock
aft to the taffrail."
The _Hermione_ was tearing through the sea upon the wind, so she
rolled little, but the wild waves came pouring over her catheads and
topgallant forecastle, and over the weather bulwarks, swashing and
plashing their snowy spray far above the level of her main-courser.
"Who is at the wheel?" asked the captain, who was standing at the
break of the quarter-deck.
"Badger, the long Yankee," replied Mr. Quail.
"All seems quiet among these rascals forward; and they worked
cheerily enough to-night."
"All quiet as yet, sir; but we don't know when their little game may
begin."
"If they should have changed their minds?" suggested Phillips.
"No chance of that, sir," said Quail, shaking his head.
"Or, if the doctor was mistaken?"
"Impossible, sir," said Quail, shaking his head again--it was under a
cloud of spray this time; "and, even if he was so, we can't mistake
the disappearance of poor Manfredi after Sharkey's ugly threats, and
their mutinous spirit in general. As first mate, I have seen enough
of it to last my time at sea."
"I am prepared for the worst, at all events," responded Phillips, in
the same low voice, as he instinctively felt for the butt of the
revolver pistol in his breast-pocket, and ascended to the weather
side of the poop.
Veering round to the south-eastward, the wind was soon dead against
the ship, which laboured hard, though running close-hauled, and,
while beating to windward, her head was many points away from her
proper course.
She was running fast through the water--ten knots an hour at
least--but was making great leeway. The strain on the
weather-rigging was great; there every shroud, rope, and halyard were
tight as iron wire, while to leeward they were all blown out in wavy
bights and bends, especially at every lurch.
There was never a lull in the fierce gale, and, with every wave that
burst against her bows, the _Hermione_ seemed to roll, or swerve,
bodily off to leeward.
On this night poor Mr. Basset was in great mental misery, lest, amid
the tempest, for to such the gale nearly amounted, the crew should
put their nefarious designs in execution; but they had their hands
too full of necessary work to find time for mischief then.
He twice ventured on deck, but, to the landsman's eye, the aspect of
that wild, stormy sea, visible under a starry and cloudless sky, so
appalled him, that each time he returned to the cabin with such
visible signs of tremor or emotion, that Ethel, who had found the
impossibility of sleeping, and had hastily thrown on her morning
wrapper and shawl, joined him, and sat caressingly by his side.
Pale, anxious, and lovely she looked in her white-frilled dress; and
now every sound on deck made her father start with agitation.
"Is the gale increasing, papa?" she asked, for the twentieth time.
"Undoubtedly it is--but the captain laughs at it, and says his ship
is strong and stout."
"How soundly dear Rose sleeps amid all this hurly-burly."
"Bless the poor child--oh yes; but go to bed beside her, darling, we
have little fear to-night--for the ship, at least."
"Have we aught to fear from the sea, papa?"
Mr. Basset did not reply.
"You are silent, papa," resumed Ethel, scanning his features keenly
and affectionately, and patting his cheek with her delicate hand;
"then there is some danger of which you do not tell me. Oh, papa,
what is this you would conceal from me, who, I know, am all the world
to you?"
"You are, indeed, all the world to me now, Ethel--you and Rose,"
replied the poor man, in a broken voice, as his eyes filled, and his
heart swelled with uncontrollable anxiety and emotion; "but there,
dear, there, kiss me, and go to bed; don't waken Rose--let the poor
child sleep while she may."
And leading Ethel to her cabin, he pushed her gently in, and closing
the door, lay down on the stern-locker to watch, but not to sleep.
This gale blew steadily for more than eight-and-forty hours, during
which the _Hermione_ carried as little canvas as possible, yet she
made so much leeway as to be blown far to the southward of the
Cape--how far was known only to Captain Phillips and his two mates,
Mr. Quail and Mr. Foster, as they had tacitly agreed to keep the crew
in total ignorance of the ship's working or progress, hoping, by
doing so, to delay, if they could not ultimately frustrate, any dark
plans the intending mutineers had formed.
During all this gale, which showed no signs of abatement until the
evening of the second day, Ethel and her sister remained in the cabin
with old Nurse Folgate, who, with all her love for them, was
deploring the moment of weakness in which she consented to leave the
leafy seclusion of Acton-Rennel, "to go forth a-voyaging round the
world, nobody knew to where."
Dr. Leslie Heriot found much to keep him below, too; and thus, by day
and by night, according to the plan formed and already described,
there was always at least one armed man guarding them and the
cabin-door.
As for poor Mr. Basset, he never quitted the side of his daughters
now, until he saw them into their little cabin for the night; and
Ethel, who soon perceived her father's new solicitude and
affectionate anxiety, was quite at a loss to understand what caused
it.
None knew how the lots had fallen, or whose cast of the dice had been
highest in the forecastle bunks of the _Hermione_; but many of her
crew, when they came on deck, on the morning subsequent to the
amiable discussion so luckily overheard by Dr. Heriot, bore
unmistakable marks of a conflict, in the shape of blackened eyes,
swollen noses, and, in more than one instance, a slash or stab from a
knife.
Whatever were the ultimate intentions of these men, matters remained
unchanged on board the ship, the duty of which was carried on
excellently during the gale, for then every man did his duty readily
and cheerfully, either by force of habit, or from the knowledge that
to do so would save themselves much trouble and probable danger.
No doubt they deemed it better to wait for an opportunity after they
were assured of being past the Cape, when they would seize the ship,
and, as the doctor heard suggested, haul up for the Mozambique
Channel, a very unwise idea on their part, as, in the narrow sea,
they ran the imminent risk of being overhauled by some man-of-war,
homeward bound, or transport full of troops--chances to be avoided in
the open Indian Ocean.
The tempest had blown them to the westward, and also considerably to
the southward of the Cape, which lies in latitude 33.5.42 South, and
longitude 18.23.15 East. But the morning of the third day came in
clear and calm; there was a gentle breeze from the eastward, and the
ship was running close-hauled, with her port-tacks on board, and
everything set upon her that would draw, even to triangular skysails
and niaintopgallant staysails, so that her hull seemed a mere black
speck under such a cloud of white canvas.
And the glorious morning sun cast her shadow far along the smooth
ocean to the westward, as she cleft its waters swiftly and steadily
with her gallant prow, from which a white female figure, representing
the _Hermione_ of the classical age, the daughter of Venus and wife
of Cadmus, with Vulcan's golden necklet round her slender throat,
spread her graceful arms above the foam.
The fourth and fifth days after the gale were serene and lovely in
the extreme.
There was scarcely need for the watch to rig the head-pump for the
last three mornings; washed by the waves of the recent gale, the
decks were white as snow, and not even a shred or thread of spunyarn
could be seen about the wheels of the carronades, the coamings of the
hatches, or the mouths of the scupper-holes.
Breakfast over, Rose and Ethel came on deck, and Doctor Heriot
hastened after them with cushions, shawls, and wrappers, for the
morning air in that extreme southern latitude was cold, though clear
and bracing; even an iceberg was visible at the far and blue horizon
to the westward, an object to which Heriot drew the attention of the
sisters, and promptly arranged for them his telescope; but the fair
voyagers had become quite used to such things, so Ethel betook
herself to a novel, and Rose began a piece of crochet (which seemed
like the web of Penelope) in expectation that her lover would sit by
and converse with her.
Both seemed paler than usual, in consequence of the few days'
confinement below. Their father was anxious still, and the poor man
continued to linger about them, to hover near them, and instinctively
his trembling hand felt for the loaded revolver he carried in secret,
if one of the crew came near his daughters, and his heart beat
quicker if even one glanced to them, for in him he suspected the
winner by the dice-box of the two abhorred Barradas.
Hawkshaw, whom the young doctor's steady attentions to the sisters
galled and fretted, was up in the fore-rigging, somewhere, looking
out for a sail, as no one on board longed for the appearance of a
ship of war more than he did; so he kept one eye on the horizon, and
another on the quarter-deck, where Ethel and Rose were seated,
chatting and laughing.
Heriot had carefully examined, capped, and charged anew his revolver,
and placed it in his breast-pocket before he joined them, so the crew
very little suspected how completely all their superiors were
forewarned and forearmed.
The two girls looked, if possible, lovelier than ever on this, as it
will prove in the sequel, eventful morning, by a species of delicate
pallor induced by the close atmosphere of the cabin; and as young
Heriot gazed into their clear, full, earnest eyes, a fierce, high
spirit swelled up in his heart, and he almost rejoiced that the
terrible circumstances in which they were placed, sailing as it were
with a volcano on board, would give him an opportunity of showing how
dearly he loved Rose Basset, how willing he was to dare, alas! it
might be to die for her!
Not that he would gain much by the last move, as reflection showed,
and die he might, perhaps, by the hands of some of those ruffians,
before she could be succoured and protected, and then there was acute
agony in the contemplation of what she might endure when he could
neither see nor avenge it.
"Look, Ethel dear," Rose suddenly exclaimed with girlish delight,
"there is a great swan asleep on the water."
"A swan here?" queried Ethel.
"It is an albatross," said the doctor, smiling, "and sleeping sound
enough, certainly. I could almost toss a biscuit on his back."
There, not twelve yards distant from the ship's side, on the smooth
surface of the sea, was a great albatross, with plumage white as
snow--a bird whose pinions may have measured twelve feet from tip to
tip--fast asleep, and floating with his huge head under his wing.
Slowly he was upheaved upon each huge glassy swell, and slowly he
sank down into the glassy vale between them, sleeping, as Ethel said,
just as she had seen the swans on Acton Mere at home, and now this
lonely bird was perhaps 300 miles from land.
When first descried he was upon the weather-bow, and now he was upon
the lee quarter, so rapidly the ship left far astern this great bird
of the "Ancient Mariner," enjoying his nap, all undisturbed, upon the
morning sea.
Hawkshaw, who was pretty far up the fore-rigging, now drew the
attention of some of the crew, who were at work upon the foreyard,
greasing the sling thereof, reeving new bunt-lines to the foot of the
foretopsail, &c., to a small dark object that was floating on the
water at a great distance, and the discussion that ensued about it
soon caught the attention of the anxious and active Mr. Quail, who
was standing at the break of the quarter-deck, for the _Hermione_ had
a species of half poop, so he descended into the waist and hailed the
talkers.
"Fore-top there!"
"Aye, aye, sir," replied Bill Badger and Zuares Barradas.
"Do you see anything, that you keep such a bright look-out to
leeward, eh?'
"Yes, sir; there is something in sight," replied Zuares.
"Something; well, what is it?"
"The head o' the great sea-sarpent, I rayther reckons it to be,"
replied Bill Badger, impudently; "I sees his row o' grinders standing
up above the water."
"Grinders, you Yankee swab," responded Mr. Quail (under his breath,
however, for the fid-maul and a couple of iron marlinespikes were
lying in the foretop, and one of these might fall out of it, by
accident); "what you call grinders are the timber-heads of a piece of
wreck--if not, I am as green as a cabbage! A piece of wreck in sight
to leeward, sir," he reported down the skylight to Captain Phillips,
who came promptly on deck, telescope in hand.
"Whereabouts, Mr. Quail?"
"There, sir; you can see it now under the leach of the forecourse,
when the ship rises--can you make it out?'
"Wreck it is, Quail; the taffrail and sternpost of a vessel. Ease
her off a bit, Pedro; edge down towards it," said the captain to the
elder Barradas, whose strong hands grasped the handsome,
brass-mounted wheel of the _Hermione_; "we are raising it fast."
"If there ain't men a-clinging to it, I'm a Dutchman!" shouted
Badger, from the foretop.
"The fellow is right," said Phillips, politely passing his glass to
Mr. Basset; "human figures are visible on it. Ready the lee quarter
boat, there--clear the fall tackles; keep her on a little just as she
is, Mr. Quail, and then back with the mainyard."
All the crew crowded to the leeside of the deck now, and their entire
attention was riveted on the piece of drifting wreck which lay like a
log in the water; but towards which they were rapidly bearing down.
Ere long, four men could be distinctly seen upon it, but whether
alive or dead none could say with certainty, though all surmised the
latter, as they made neither sign nor hail, but remained still, mute,
and passive as the timber-heads to which they were lashed, and which
rose and fell, slowly and sullenly, amid the sunny ripples of that
calm morning sea.
CHAPTER XII.
DR. HERIOT'S PATIENTS.
Filled with the interest roused by this new episode, the crew, for a
time, forgot everything in their desire to know what ship this had
been, where she hailed from, to relieve the sufferers, and to learn
all they had undergone; for, even in his worst moods, Jack is always
ready for anything, and the more of novelty it contains, the better
for him.
The four drooping figures could be distinctly discerned now, with
their heads bare, their faces blanched and pale. Ethel and Rose were
full of commiseration; already their gentle eyes were swimming in
sympathetic tears. The former kept by the side of her father, and
the latter, in her excitement, leant more heavily than usual,
perhaps, on the arm of Dr. Heriot; and even old Nance Folgate had
come out of her berth, and muttering "Lor' a mussy me!" from time to
time, clung with cat-like tenacity to the nettings on the
lee-quarter, to see the castaways, whom, she had no doubt, had been
devouring each other from time to time, till only four were left now.
"Back with the mainyard," shouted the captain; "to the braces, men;
let go and haul!"
The lee-braces were cast off the belaying-pins; the weather hauled
in, and the yard was slued round till the sail was laid flat to the
mast; and now the great ship, which had been edged down towards the
piece of wreck, as she lay to, rose and fell with slow, but regular
and impatient heaves, on the swelling ridges of the sea, while, with
a quick revolution of the double-sheaved blocks, the fall-tackle fell
and the quarter-boat vanished from its davits with a splash into the
sea alongside.
She was speedily manned: Mr. Foster, the second mate, took the
tiller; Bill Badger, the Yankee; Joe, the steward; Quaco, the black
Virginian, and Dr. Heriot (with Rose's entreaties to take care of
himself, ringing in his ears), shipped their oars in the rowlocks,
and she was shoved off.
"Happy go lucky! here's summut new, at all events," said Bill Badger,
as he made the tough blade of the stroke-oar bend like a willow wand;
for after a long, dull voyage like that of the _Hermione_, varied
only by adverse winds and the loss of a mast at the Canaries--a
voyage in which a few restless and roving spirits are shut up for
many weeks in the small compass of a ship--anything that may serve to
relieve or vary the tedium and monotony of the life they lead is
welcome; hence, a drifting wreck, with its contingent stories,
mysteries, and the surmises it may occasion, is, perhaps, the most
welcome, though least lively adventure they could meet with.
The proceedings of the boat's crew were watched with deep interest by
those who lined the ship's side, about 500 yards off.
Mr. Foster pulled round the stern of the wreck, and was seen to stoop
with his face close to the water, as if he was endeavouring to read
(which was the case) the vessel's name, then sunk some feet below the
surface, as the wreck was half submerged.
Then he sheered the boat alongside, and by the painter it was made
fast to a timber-head; but almost immediately after, for fear of
accidents, this was cast off, and she was simply held on by the
boat-hook.
Mr. Foster, Dr. Heriot, and another stepped along the piece of
quarter-deck, and were seen to be examining the four men, whom they
relieved from their wet lashings by simply cutting these through with
a slash of Quaco's jack-knife.
"Evidently, the poor fellows are not dead," said Captain Phillips,
joyfully, as he clapped his fat hands together.
"How do you know, dear sir?" asked Ethel; "ah, the poor men, I do not
see them move!"
"They are putting them into the boat to bring them aboard, Miss
Basset. If they had been dead, there would have been little use in
doing that."
"What would you have done in that case, captain?" asked Mr. Basset.
"Sunk each of 'em simply, with a round shot at his heels, as we did
the poor fellow whom we found floating with the life-buoy. Mr.
Quail, get some brandy and wine out of the cabin locker--some water,
please, too."
"Oh, let me assist you, sir," exclaimed Ethel.
"And me--me too," added Rose, with enthusiasm.
"Stop, ladies, you'll only lose your footing and get a tumble,
perhaps, the ship is pitching so; better stay where you are, and hold
on by the side netting."
"Hush!" said Captain Phillips, suddenly; "silence on deck--silence
fore and aft, for Dr. Heriot is hailing the ship, and waving his cap."
"What is it that he is saying?" asked several, as the doctor's clear
voice came distinctly over the water.
"Captain Phillips," they heard him cry, "please to request the ladies
to leave the deck."
"That is plain enough, miss," said Mr. Quail, touching his cap to
Ethel.
"Why--for what must we go?" said Rose, pouting.
"You must permit me to lead you below, ladies," said the captain;
"depend upon it, the doctor knows best. There is something there he
does not wish you to see."
So Ethel, Rose, and the old nurse, to the intense mortification of
the latter, left the deck, and retired to the cabin to wait the event.
The truth was that the worthy young doctor had found the four
sufferers on the wreck, though not dead, as he fully ascertained on
feeling their pulses, in such a frightful state of prostration and
delirium, that he deemed it better Ethel and Rose should be spared
the shock of their first appearance, and should not witness the
conveyance of them up the ship's side.
"They are all in the boat now, and now she is shoved off. Give way,
my boys--give way!" shouted the captain, whose kind, ruddy English
face flushed with eagerness. "Lay out on your oars and pull with a
will, for a glass of grog awaits you all."
To do them justice, the men in the boat needed no incentive; to the
whole length of their arms they bent to their oars, and the boat came
sheering alongside in a twinkling.
"In larboard oars, out fenders," said Mr. Foster, as he relinquished
the tiller.
"Into the main-chains there, some of you, and bear a hand to get the
poor fellows on board," said Captain Phillips, jumping down the short
ladder at the break of the quarter-deck, just as four thin and wasted
figures--their tattered clothes sodden and saturated by salt water,
their matted hair encrusted with salt--were handed like children up
the side, passed over the bulwark, and laid on the deck near the
long-boat.
"Poor fellows, poor fellows! God help them," said Phillips,
commiseratingly, as they seemed quite insensible. Their teeth were
clenched, but their lips were far apart, cracked, parched, and, in
some instances, bleeding. They breathed irregularly, and twitched
their fingers convulsively.
"They must be your peculiar care for a time, doctor," said Mr.
Basset, as Heriot flung his coat on the deck, and while rolling up
his shirt-sleeves, rushed below to his medicine-chest.
"Boy, Joe--steward, bring wine and brandy here! Carpenter, get four
comfortable hammocks slung in the 'tween decks; and you, Quaco, my
darkey, get us plenty of hot water from the galley," cried Phillips.
"Yaas, sar," replied the sable Virginian, as he hastened forward with
a bucket.
Every one bustled about, and even Sharkey, the sulkiest villain of
that ill-assorted crew, made himself useful in some way, or fancied
that he did so.
"These men are evidently British seamen," said the captain, as the
doctor stooped over each, and raising his head, poured weak
brandy-and-water, with some medicament therein, down his throat.
"How thirstily they drink! One opens his eyes. All right, my
friend, you'll soon come to," added the kind skipper, as he patted
Morrison on the shoulder. "Now then," said he, "Mr. Quail, get the
quarter-boat hoisted in, and fill the mainyard. Trim the ship to her
course."
"Very good, sir."
It was soon done, and the _Hermione_, as she began again to walk
through the water, soon left the piece of wreck astern.
"Did you make out the name of that unfortunate craft, Mr. Foster?"
"Yes, sir; but with difficulty."
"And what was it?"
Our readers, of course, anticipate the reply.
"The _Princess_, of London--ship rig evidently, from the side chains,
the double row of dead eyes, and the gearing of the mizzenmast."
"All right. Now bring up the ship's log."
The four patients were taken below. A little food, such as might be
made for children, arrowroot with, sherry, and so forth, was given to
them, and greedily they devoured it. They were then stripped,
sponged with warm fresh water, and lifted each into a comfortable
hammock, the active young doctor, Mr. Foster, the captain and
steward, working for them like servants and nurses with hearty
good-will.
Gentle cordials were then administered, and soon after Heriot
appeared in the cabin with a bright and smiling face, wearing the
happy expression of one who, in doing a good action, has done his
best, to report that they had fallen into a sound sleep, were all
doing well, and would, he hoped, soon be free from danger.
"It was too bad of you to send us below like children," said Rose.
"And you think they will recover, doctor?" asked Ethel, interrupting
some playful apology of Heriot's.
"Recover? Oh yes, and perhaps be with us soon at table, too; so poor
Manfredi's seat may thus be filled. Like Banquo's, it has long been
empty."
"Oh, Leslie, how can you jest thus?" whispered Rose.
"I don't jest, dearest," replied the doctor, deprecatingly. "I liked
poor Adrian Manfredi too well to associate his idea now with a jest,"
he added, gravely, as he thought of that night in the forecastle
bunks, of the revelations he had heard, and the peril that was yet
unaverted.
"Have the poor men said anything?" asked Ethel.
"Not much, Miss Basset, beyond a few indistinct and delirious
mutterings."
"Could you gather who they were?"
"No; but they all seem to be seamen, save one."
"One?"
"Yes."
(How little could she dream who _this one was_!)
"And you are able to distinguish," she resumed.
"At once--by their hands and general appearance."
"And this one, who is not a seaman?"
"Is a pale, and thin--but then he has been starved--and
gentleman-like young man. Though half dead with privation, he made a
whispered apology for the trouble he gave us."
"Poor fellow!" said Ethel, whose eyes glistened.
"Where was their vessel from?--how was she lost?--and where was she
lost?" asked Rose.
"They are past telling all this now," said the doctor, smiling, and
patting Rose's hand; "by to-morrow evening, perhaps, we shall learn
all."
"I do long so to hear their story--how terrible it must be--quite a
nautical romance; and then, the other poor men of their ship, who
have been drowned!"
"Yes, Rose," said Ethel, glancing at the captain and mate, who were
each making an entry in his log or journal, "this incident will fill
up an entire page of your diary."
"How--why?" asked Rose, reddening very perceptibly.
"For Lucy Page's perusal," said Ethel, with a smile that had a little
mischief, or waggery, in it.
Rose grew redder, for her diary or journal of the voyage, which she
had begun to keep (from the day she left Laurel Lodge), for the
special perusal of her friend and gossip, Lucy Page, had proved
rather a bore, and had been completely relinquished, as she could not
consistently omit, and yet shrank from recording, memoranda of a
certain little interview with the doctor, being naturally restrained
therefrom by a certain awkwardness, if the eye of Jack Page, now
almost a myth to her, as he has been, perhaps, to the reader, should
peruse them also.
So Rose had ceased altogether to continue that interesting volume,
which, we may presume, terminated abruptly on that night recorded in
a previous chapter, when she and the doctor took a turn on deck to
view the stars.
At this moment Cramply Hawkshaw entered the cabin with an expression
of face so scared, so altered, and so unmistakably wretched, that
Ethel surveyed him with surprise; and then, with some commiseration,
she kindly inquired if he was ill?
He complained of giddiness, and abruptly hastened on deck.
In fact, our ex-Texan officer had just come from between decks, where
he had been visiting the doctor's patients.
CHAPTER XIII.
CAPTAIN HAWKSHAW'S TROUBLES INCREASE.
Inspired by some emotion beyond curiosity--a feeling which it would
be alike impossible to define or describe, Hawkshaw had gone between
decks to look at the rescued men.
A man had been left to watch them. He was Bolter, the Canadian, to
whom Dr. Heriot had given strict injunctions that the sleepers were
not to be disturbed to gratify the mere curiosity of the crew; and he
growled out a few words by way of warning to Hawkshaw, who, assuming
a jaunty air, said:
"Now, my amphibious biped, how are your patients?"
"None of your names, mister," replied the Canadian, knitting his
brows.
"You mistake me, my good fellow; I simply wished to know how our new
friends are."
"Judge for yourself--blow'd if I know," was the sulky rejoinder, as
Bolter replaced a tremendous expectoration (which he shot fairly over
Hawkshaw's shoulder and out at the lee port) by a huge quid; "but
they seemed all goin' forren--out'ard bound, till the doctor hove 'em
up fresh."
Each was in his hammock sleeping soundly, in that deep, drowsy torpor
which enables even "the famished to escape from the pangs of hunger,
and those who are perishing of thirst to escape for a time from the
agony of the parched throat"--the sleep that covereth a man all over
like a mantle, as honest Sancho Panza said, when, in the fulness of
his heart, he blessed the great inventor thereof.
On tiptoe Hawkshaw passed from sleeper to sleeper.
One seemed a brawny and weather-beaten seaman, with grizzled locks,
that were fast becoming gray; his bare and muscular chest was
tattooed blue with gunpowder. This was our old friend Noah Gawthrop.
The second he looked at was somewhat hard-featured, with a high
forehead, dark, full eyebrows, a well-shaped nose, and one of those
prominent chins which bespeak firmness, decision of character, and
indomitable perseverance. He was the Scotch mate, Bill Morrison.
The next was a pale, wan lad, whose handsome but attenuated
features----
"Gad's fury!" burst from the lips of Hawkshaw, as the sudden
recognition of those features struck a terror into his soul. "He
here! he! Can it be possible?"
"Hullo, shipmate, what's the row?" said Bolter, looking up from a
sea-chest, on which he was lolling, with his hands in his pockets;
"Vast and belay this gab o' yours, or you'll waken 'em up, which is
clear ag'in the doctor's orders."
"A mosquito stung me," said Hawkshaw, with a confusion which Bolter's
perceptions were not fine enough to discover.
"A miskitty in these latitudes!" he exclaimed, mockingly. "I'm not
so jolly green a hand as to believe that; but be off on deck, and
leave me to keep my watch 'athout you. I may say this, though the
ship is yet trimmed by the starn," added the fellow, with an insolent
grimace, for like the rest of the crew, whom the Barradas influenced,
he had a peculiar aversion for Hawkshaw.
The latter had now shrunk back, scarcely breathing, after assuring
himself that the pale sleeper was indeed Morley Ashton; and then
flashed upon his mind the keen and savage idea of getting him again
removed from his path--by strangling him in his sleep, by putting
poison in his food--and thus to send him out of the world ere his
eyes again fully opened on it, and ere he, Hawkshaw, could be
destroyed by the story he had to tell--by the great crime he had to
reveal.
From the cabin, as we have told, he went on deck, and, desirous of
avoiding all, of seeking that solitude so impossible to find on board
ship, he ascended into the fore-rigging, and sat there, amid a whirl,
a chaos of thought, endeavouring to consider his prospects and
position now!
Could he have been mistaken?
Impossible! The likeness had been too deeply impressed upon his
memory since that awful night at Acton Chine; so he needed not to go
between decks again, and, moreover, he dared not, lest Morley should
awake and recognise him.
"How came he to escape death at the Chine? How to be sailing on the
sea, and hereabout too?" thought Hawkshaw. "Oh, strange, and most
accursed fatality! But for me, perhaps, we might have passed that
piece of wreck--passed it unseen by all on board; but Fate is
retributive; I was the first to descry, the first to be anxious to
visit it."
For a moment, but a moment only, there came into his soul a gleam of
joy, with the conviction that he was not, as he had so long
remorsefully considered himself, the destroyer of a fellow-creature.
His victim--Heaven alone knew how!--had escaped, and was here alive
and safe on board the _Hermione_. The ever-present idea of crime,
with the word that had seemed ever before his eyes, on his lips, and
in his heart--that shone in his dreams like those letters of flame
that flashed on the vision of Belshazzar, could be a terror to him no
longer.
The proverbs, that "Murder will out;" that "God's retribution will
fall upon a murderer;" the law, that "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by
man shall his blood be shed," would haunt him no more,--for this
crime at least.
Such were his ideas for a moment; but the next, cold, selfish fear
resumed its sway, and reason showed him that he was yet an assassin
by intent--one whom his intended victim would expose, crush, and
destroy, _if_--what?--he was not anticipated, crushed and destroyed
_first_.
To Hawkshaw, this waif from the ocean was worse by a thousand degrees
than his _rencontre_ with the two Barradas.
To avoid the accusations, the shame and contumely that Morley Ashton
could heap upon him, by the exposure of his falsehood, cruelty, and
hypocrisy, he would, happily, now have relinquished even Ethel
Basset, and all he had hoped from her father's patronage in the Isle
of France. He would gladly have fled; but whither could he fly--how,
when, where?--encompassed as he was by the sea? Save in its depth,
there was no escape from this accursed ship, as there was no eluding
his own conscience, in this floating prison, the _Hermione_--how he
loathed the name!--with her crew of foul and treacherous mutineers.
He had one hope left. Morley might die on getting food. He seemed
so weak when brought on board, that the powers of digestion might be
past, so that death might ensue from mere inanition.
But then his three companions would probably know his story, and were
certain, if they survived, to reveal all Hawkshaw's guilt.
In the bitterness of his soul, he contemplated suicide, by slipping
quietly overboard before the fatal recognition and discovery took
place; but then came the fierce thought--if one of us is to perish,
why should not he? and what time so fitting as now, when he is
weak--almost dying? And thus, in his blind desperation, some of his
old Mexican instincts or propensities grew strong within him, and he
conceived the fiendish idea of strangling, or otherwise destroying,
the half-dead lad in the night.
If marks of violence were found upon him, Hawkshaw knew there were so
many "black sheep" in the forecastle, that one of them would readily
be blamed for the crime.
A fierce eagerness to put himself in a safe position, to prevent the
discovery that would blight him for ever, now possessed his whole
soul, and, nerving it for the deadly task he had to do, made him long
for the darkness and silence of night, when he resolved to make the
attempt.
In this pleasant mood of mind, he heard the cabin bell rung by Joe
the steward, announcing dinner, and descending reluctantly from his
perch in the fore-rigging, he went aft and took his seat between
Ethel and Dr. Heriot, who were conversing gaily, while he had all the
misery of having to veil over the secret serpent that gnawed at his
heart, by an outward air of ease, security, and pleasantry, which,
however, was nearly put to flight by Captain Phillips asking if he
had seen the devil in the foretop, he looked so very white about the
gills.
One portion of the conversation, maintained amid the clinking of
glasses and plates, and the difficulty of balancing wine-glasses
nicely when the ship rolled, was by no means calculated to restore
his equanimity.
"Miss Basset," said the young doctor, blandly, "I hope you will come
with me, and visit those poor fellows?"
"Yes, with pleasure. Rose and papa will come too."
"Well, it will cheer them a bit to see your dear, kind, pretty
faces," said Captain Phillips, bowing to each sister, ere he drained
his glass of sherry.
"You will quite spoil my girls by flattering them," said Mr. Basset,
laughing.
"Our good captain is too honest for flattery," resumed Dr. Heriot;
"but, Miss Basset, there is one fellow there who interests me much,
though why I cannot say. Please to look at him well when you see
him. There is something very remarkable about him."
"Indeed, how, pray?"
"I judge by his bearing, and the general expression of his face. As
a clever American writer says, of a similar impression, 'His is one
of those cases which are more numerous than supposed by those who
have never lived anywhere but in their own homes, and have never
walked but in one line from their cradles to their graves. We must
leave our straight paths for the by-ways and low places of life, if
we would learn truths by strong contrasts, and in hovels, in
forecastles, and among our own outcasts in foreign lands, see what
has been brought upon our fellow-creatures by accident, hardship, or
vice.'
"Vice!" repeated Hawkshaw, with a nervous start, and in dread lest
Morley had already discovered himself.
"Oh, do not misunderstand me. I merely completed the quotation.
Heaven forbid, Mr. Hawkshaw, that I should attribute vice to one so
gentle as my poor patient; but to-morrow, or at latest, next day, you
shall see them, ladies, and I shall have much pleasure in being your
guide between decks."
Hawkshaw felt as if the doctor was dictating his sentence of
degradation and death; but he strove to preserve an unmoved
countenance, and to affect a pleasant demeanour.
Then he had to do the honours of the table to Ethel Basset, while his
food seemed to choke him, with the agreeable consciousness that he
whom she still loved, and for whom she still sorrowed, Morley Ashton,
was asleep quietly in his hammock, on the other side of the
after-bulkhead, and scarcely three feet distant from her chair.
CHAPTER XIV.
HAWKSHAW TURNS NURSE.
For that night all went well on board, as Dr. Heriot kept his watch
between decks lest he should be wanted, and the next morning he
reported a great improvement in his four patients, whom food, wine,
and sleep were restoring so fast that he hoped by evening, perhaps,
to learn their names, whence they came, and all about them.
Hawkshaw started on hearing this. That all the four had been found
dead in their hammocks would have been to him the more welcome
tidings.
"Aye, doctor, be sure about their names, as we must have them
inserted in the log," said Captain Phillips. "Miss Basset, may we
trouble you to pour out some tea for the poor fellows?"
Younger than his companions, Morley was the first to recover complete
consciousness for a time on this morning. Naturally strong, lithe,
and active, he had been wont, when ashore, to ride, shoot and fish,
to be a first-rate bowler at cricket, a good hand with foils, gloves,
single-stick, and to indulge in all hardy sports; hence his vigorous
frame was less shaken than those of Bartelot, Morrison, and Noah, who
were his seniors in age.
The 'tween decks of the _Hermione_ was a clear and airy place.
Through a half-open port to leeward he could see the bright green sea
running past in the morning sunshine; a pleasant breeze came down the
half-grating of the open hatchway, and as the ship was running on a
wind, the hammocks hung steadily.
The ship's bell clanged on deck; he heard a hoarse voice calling the
watch, and gradually the dream-like events of the past day unfolded
themselves with some coherence, and with a sigh of joy, an unuttered
prayer of gratitude, he closed his eyes again, with the delicious
conviction of being safe and in kind hands.
Ere long Boy Joe came from the cabin with warm tea and soaked
biscuits for them.
How little did Morley know whose hands had poured it into the cups!
And now, refreshed, and aware of each other's presence, all swinging
side by side in their hammocks, Bartelot and Morrison began to
converse with him.
This roused old Noah, who had dozed off to sleep again; so he began
to mutter hoarsely in a dream:
"All starbowlines ahoy; come, tumble up the larboard watch."
"What is the matter, Noah?" asked Bartelot.
"It is that 'ere smatchet of a marine drummer," replied Gawthrop,
looking up vacantly.
"He is dreaming of the old _Aurora_, of fifty guns," said Morrison,
in a weak voice, quite unlike his own. "Hollo, Noah, old fellow;
you've not unroved your life-lines yet, eh?"
"No, mate, thank Heaven," he replied, in something of the same
childish treble; "nor you. And you shall see the Black Dog of
Belhelvie yet, as I hopes one of these blessed days to see
Dungeonness Light and the buoy at the Nore."
"Here, shipmate, drink this, and talk after," said Joe, the steward,
as he held another cup of warm tea (in which a whipped egg was
substituted for milk) to the lips of Noah, who drained it at a
draught, and then looked less wild and more awake.
"Go ahead, old boy," said Joe, a curly-headed, good-humoured-looking
English lad, as he tucked the blanket about Noah's shoulders; "it is
tea for dunnage, and soft biscuits for ballast just now. By-and-by,
it will be grog and old horse for cargo, eh?"
"It's the 'tween decks that did it," muttered Noah. "I thought I was
aboard the old _Haurora_ in the Black Sea, with the boatswain ahead
in the dingy, seeing all the yards squared by the lifts and braces."
Bartelot sank into slumber again, but Morley began to be more lively
and awake, and proceeded to compare with Morrison the notes and
incidents of yesterday, and how they came to be rescued. Their
voices sounded strangely to themselves and to each other, as at times
they sank into husky whispers.
Morrison had seen much of the world. In the words of his countryman,
a poor sailor too (Falconer, the doomed author of the "Shipwreck"),
he had been in every climate under the sun.
"Where polar skies congeal the eternal snow,
Or equinoctial suns for ever glow.
Smote by the freezing or the scorching blast,
'A ship-boy on the high and giddy mast,'
From, regions where Peruvian billows roar
To the bleak coasts of savage Labrador.
From where Damascus, pride of Asian plains,
Stoops her proud neck beneath tyrannic chains,
To where the Isthmus, laved by adverse tides,
Atlantic and Pacific seas divides.
But while he measured o'er the painful race,
In fortune's wild, illimitable chase,
Adversity, companion of his way,
Still o'er the victim hung with iron sway."
Morrison was deeply thankful to Providence for his rescue; and on the
first night of their being saved, Morley could remember, through his
dreams, hearing the poor fellow praying very devoutly in his hammock,
and in his own national dialect, which grew all the broader and more
Doric as he communed with God and himself.
On the afternoon of the day, so pregnant with events of importance to
him personally, Cramply Hawkshaw felt himself impelled, on various
pretences, to keep aloof from those who shared the cabin with him;
for he was in momentary dread that Dr. Heriot, to whom the name of
Morley Ashton had been rendered quite familiar by the confidences of
Rose Basset, would enter, and startle all by announcing who was one
of the four men rescued from the wreck.
The better to achieve his dastardly project, he volunteered to attend
them on this night between decks; and his offer, though it excited
some surprise, was at once accepted by Dr. Heriot, who gave him
several directions as to the small quantities of food and diluted
wine they were to receive, if they required nourishment.
So Hawkshaw drank deeply, mixing brandy and sherry, to nerve himself
for the dark purpose he had conceived; and, to conceal his pallor,
his restlessness and wretchedness, he secluded himself in his own
berth, and strove to sleep; but there was no sleep for him.
Thoughts maddened him, and he muttered to himself inaudibly, while,
with a hot and trembling hand, he wiped the bead-drops from his
aching brow.
"Why should I waver or shrink now?" he asked himself--not aloud, for
fear of being overheard; "what may I not dare, who have dared
everything, I who have risked all? For the past I have no
compunction now. Another might have done all those things as well as
I, for I did not create myself, neither did I scheme out my own
accursed destiny. Is there a demon within me, or is there one
presiding over me--some fiend, some angel of darkness, whom I cannot
see, but to whose whispers I am compelled to listen? Why does this
wretched boy cross my path again? Why does the sea--why does the
grave--give up its dead, as if to haunt, to tempt, to goad me into
crime on one hand, if I would not lose name, honour, consideration,
respect, and, it may be, Ethel and affluence, on the other? I had
thought to be good, and loyal, and true for her sake, even though she
loves me not; but all in vain. Ethel to marry me? Oh, that would be
like a white moss-rose entwined with the deadly hemlock! Had Heaven
not impelled or abandoned me, and had Hell not allured and prompted
me, perhaps I had not been the creature I find myself to-night.
_Caramba!_ it is a game of desperation between this Ashton and me.
The ball is yet at my foot, and shall I not strike it? Yes, and with
a vengeance, too!"
Watch after watch was called; the half-hourly bells of the ship
seemed to be rung every five minutes, instead of every thirty.
The night, solemn and starry, approached more swiftly than he could
have wished; and yet he longed that the fatal time was past--that the
terrible deed he had to do was done.
Thus he lay on his bed, almost perspiring with mental agony and with
criminal sophistry, gradually nursing himself into the conviction
that the first law of nature--self-protection and
self-preservation--rendered that deed imperative, needful, and
requisite.
He almost consoled himself by the idea that there was but half a life
to crush out; for was not Morley nearly half dead already?
Darkness had set in, before he missed daylight, so completely had his
mind and thoughts been abstracted and turned inward; thus he received
a species of electric shock, when the curtain of his berth was
withdrawn by Heriot, who said:
"Now, then, Mr. Hawkshaw--come, tumble up, old fellow--eight bells
have struck; it is twelve o'clock, and you have not been 'tween decks
yet to look after these men."
"Twelve--twelve o'clock is it?" he stammered, with confusion, as he
leaped out.
"Yes, to a minute; the ladies and all have supped and turned in. By
Jove! you've had a long spell in your berth. Can you make your way
forward alone?"
"Oh yes," replied Hawkshaw, who reeled like a tipsy man, for the ship
was now running before the wind, so she rolled till her lower
studdingsail-booms nearly touched the water.
"You have your revolver, of course?"
"Yes," said Hawkshaw, with chattering teeth.
"Ah! we never know what may happen. By-the-by, I have got the names
of those four sea-waifs; but the captain has gone to bed."
"And who are they?" asked Hawkshaw, in a faint voice, and half
averting his face.
Heriot opened his note-book, and drawing nearer the cabin lamp, read:
"_Thomas Bartelot, late master of the 'Princess,' of London, a_
300_-ton ship, from Rio last; William Morrison_ (countryman of mine)
_first-mate of the same; Noah Gawthrop, a seaman_----"
"And the fourth?" asked Hawkshaw, in agony, as Heriot paused.
"A young cabin passenger. I did not get his name, as the poor fellow
was sound asleep. They are the soul survivors of the ship. Good
night; we have a spanking breeze, and carry topmast stun'sails. Take
my poncho wrapper in addition to your railway rug."
"Why?"
"You'll find it cold enough, watching between decks till sunrise."
"Thanks. Good night," muttered Hawkshaw, through his teeth, which
the poor wretch clenched, to prevent them chattering, so strong were
his emotions, as he passed through the door of the after bulk-head,
and sought his way, by lantern light, to that place which was to be
the scene of his great crime, where, all unconscious of his entrance,
Morley and his three companions were swinging in their hammocks.
About four hours after this, a cry--almost a yell rang through the
silent ship, startling the watch on deck and the man at the helm,
terrifying Mr. Basset (whose duty it was to watch at the cabin door),
bringing Captain Phillips, Mr. Quail, and Dr. Heriot from their
berths, in dread that the great crisis of the voyage had come, that
the mutineers were in arms; there, too, were Ethel and Rose, in their
white-laced night-dresses, the latter with her rich hair all falling
over her neck, peeping fearfully from their cabin door, while Nurse
Folgate had buried herself under her bed-clothes, for that cry, which
"pierced the night's dull ear," was one of mortal agony, and it
seemed to come from--_between decks_!
CHAPTER XV.
A BITER BITTEN.
After leaving the doctor, Hawkshaw, to gather "Dutch courage," took a
last mouthful from his brandy flask, and with his slippers on, stole
softly and stealthily between decks, so softly that his entrance was
unheard by our four friends, whom he found awake, and conversing in
low tones; so he seated himself on a chest, with his face completely
in shadow, and there he remained listening, and scarcely daring to
breathe, for with every roll of the ship the four hammocks swung
regularly to and fro, side by side, from port to starboard, and the
outer one, in which Morley lay, nearly touched the watcher's head at
times.
The air-port was closed now, and the place was lighted by the feeble
rays of a ship-lantern, which swung from one of the beams.
In shadow, as we have said, and with a broad tarpaulin hat slouched
over his stealthy cat-like eyes, that flashed with malignant light,
Hawkshaw sat, or crouched, listening, watching, and waiting for the
time that would suit the attempt, eagerly, and all but breathlessly,
and the duration seemed interminable, for he had no watch, his gold
repeater having been so summarily appropriated by Pedro Barradas.
Morley spoke, and his voice, so long heard only in troubled dreams,
now thrilled through the heart of Hawkshaw, causing sharp pangs of
fear and agony; yet Morley's remark was a very simple one; but his
voice, like the voices of the others, was husky and weak.
"Oh, the delight of such a cozy bed as this, after all we have
undergone! Eh, Tom!"
"Yes, Morley, lad," replied Bartelot; "but I should like to know what
craft we are on board of, and for where bound. I quite forgot to ask
the doctor."
"She's true British at all events, by her build 'tween decks,
captain," said Noah Gawthrop. "Thank God for all his mercies,
'specially to a rough old salt like me. He was very good and kind to
remember a poor old feller like Noah, that he was, when there are so
many younger and better folks to take care of. But I think the
doctor mentioned her name, captain."
"Her--who?"
"Why the ship, I mean, sir."
"Yes--I am sure I heard it; she is the--the--"
(Hawkshaw trembled as Tom paused, for if the name was uttered in
Morley's hearing, he--the listener--was lost!) "Well, it is strange
that I don't remember; but her skipper's name is Phillips, and she
hails from London. I made out that somehow."
"I know one Phillips--Bill Phillips, who was lost in the Straits of
Sunda. He was once captain of the brig _Erminia_," said Morrison.
"_Herminya_!" replied Gawthrop, "that is the name o' the identical
craft as we're aboard of; but she is too large--too broad in the beam
for a brig."
"I am weary of speaking, mates, and wish to sleep," said Bartelot,
yawning; "here, under a good deck of British oak, we may take a long
spell of it without fear; and yet I can't help thinking of the poor
_Princess_, and all who perished with her. Their faces are always
before me."
"And that was a waluable cargo o' hers, that was," added Noah, "and a
power o' trouble we took with the sugar and 'bacca casks at Rio. Oh,
lor, to think of all that 'bacca goin' to Davy Jones, and never a
leaf of it being smoked or cut in quids! She was steeved to within a
fathom of her beams, she was; and then we had Californy hides for
dunnage to the hatches--aye, aye, all gone, and I'll never have
another watch-mate like old Ben Plank again!"
"Poor Ben!" said Morrison; "he'll never more cheer the lads in the
forecastle, or on the watch of a clear night, with the 'Bay of
Biscay' or 'Tom Bowling,' or lead the chant of 'Time for us go,' when
shipping the capstan bars. A better crew than ours never hove up
anchor!"
With a purpose so cruel and deadly in his mind, it may be imagined
with what exasperation and impatience Hawkshaw listened to a
conversation so trivial, and maintained so drowsily at intervals. He
began to hope they were dropping asleep, when old Gawthrop spoke
again.
"Oh, warn't that warm tea delicious this morning, captain! I doesn't
think as I'll ever take kindly to grog again, but become a regular
quaker and teetotaller."
"Not even thumb-grog, Noah, eh--on a wet night, when a shout comes
down the forescuttle, of 'All hands reef topsails!'" said Bartelot
laughing.
"I am almost afraid to sleep," said Morrison, "for dreams of the
wreck always come with it, and again I seem to find myself up to my
neck in cold salt water. I had often in memory, while we were
drifting about, a story my mother, poor woman! used to tell me, when
I was a laddie at home, and played truant frae the school, and when
she wished to frighten me into good behaviour; so between sleeping
and waking I used to think sometimes I was one of the doomed men she
used to speak of."
"Doomed, mate; how?" asked Morley, raising his voice; "how were they
so?"
"It was the belief of some of the seafaring folk who dwell in the
north of Scotland, that those among them who were wicked and sinful
in their lives were roused in the night by the knocking of a skeleton
hand on their cottage doors. The tap sounded like that of a bony or
fleshless hand, though neither the hand or arm of the summoner were
visible to mortal eyes. Compelled by a power they dared not, and
could not resist, those who were so summoned left their snug beds,
their wives and bairns (if they had them), and went, awe-stricken and
sick with horror, down the beach, where at such a time there was
always a heavy sea rolling in white foam, a black scud drifting
overhead and a storm coming on. Compelled by the same mysterious
power that brought them forth, the shivering wretches had to step on
board a long, black, coffin-shaped boat (which was always sunk to its
gunnel in water), and then they shoved off to sea. A grinning skull
formed the figure-head of this grim barge, and human bones the
thole-pins. Then a great dark cloud spread itself like a sail on the
laughing wind, and away they were borne careering into the offing of
the black and midnight sea, from whence there was no return, for
there they had to cruise for ever, like Vanderdecken at the Cape,
until the final day of Doom! Many a time such boats have been seen,
driving past the lighthouse on Buchanness, and the deep caverns of
that tremendous shore, where the sea bellows for ever and
ever--sailing on and on, towards the north, the shrieks of the
despairing mingling with the wind, on a cold winter night, when the
sleet and rain were sowing all the German sea."
"Such a diabolical story!" exclaimed Morley.
"Well, that is a lively legend of the north of Scotland," added
Bartelot; "but now silence, mates, and let us to sleep, if we can."
Before this end, so desirable for the purpose of Hawkshaw, was
attained, he heard the middle-watch called, and the port-tacks were
brought more on board, which showed that the wind was veering upon
the quarter; then all became still, and he heard only the ceaseless
creaking of the timbers, the sound of the sea rushing past, the sway
to and fro of the sleepers' hammocks, and his own half-suppressed
breathing.
The idea of cutting the head-clew of Morley's hammock, and letting
him fall head-foremost on the lower deck, occurred to Hawkshaw; and
then he preferred the idea of relaxing the clew, so that it might
seem to have given way, and the result of such a fall in Morley's
weak state would certainly kill him, while all the blame of the event
would fall on the carpenter or sailmaker who slung the hammock.
But Hawkshaw's trembling fingers completely failed to undo the knot
of the clew--one of those mysterious ones which sailors alone can tie
and untie--so he was compelled to relinquish the idea.
He next approached softly, to assure himself that the four men were
asleep. He opened the lantern, and passed the lighted candle twice
across their faces, which were still wan, pale, and weird in aspect,
after all they had so recently undergone.
He looked on Morley Ashton last, for it required some courage to do
so steadily, while memories of the past and anticipations of the
future were conflicting in his heart.
Morning was at hand now, the first sleep of the night was past, and
the four were again in dream-land--chiefly, perhaps, our friend
Morley--in that state which is between sleep and wakefulness.
Various shades of expression were passing over his handsome, pale,
and gentle face. He muttered at times, too, and gave uneasy moans
and starts, for thought, life, the soul, were still at work. Then
his mouth wore a soft smile, as Ethel's image most likely came before
him; anon, there was a knitted brow and stern compression of the
lips, as some fierce emotion followed; and next there came a gaunt
aspect of despair, with some memory of the floating wreck, all
evincing that, while he slept, the reflections of life were busy amid
that uneasy slumber.
With bent brows, with haggard cheeks, with eyes that glared snakily
in fear and hate, Cramply Hawkshaw gazed upon his victim; and as his
deadly intent came gushing up in his heart--as his cruelty and wrath
were screwed "to the sticking point," he quietly extinguished the
candle, without perceiving that two eyes close by were watching him
narrowly, with wonder and alarm.
There was no light now, save that of the stars, which struggled dimly
and uncertainly through a couple of yolks in the deck overhead, and
through the grating of the open hatchway.
Hawkshaw's heart panted as that of a chased tiger might do, and the
old emotion he felt on that terrible night at Acton Chine--a lust of
cruelty, of vengeance, and destruction--swelled or glowed within him!
A flame seemed to pass out of his eyes, while a thousand glaring orbs
appeared to fill or pierce the obscurity about him; his breath became
short and difficult, a deafness fell upon his ears, or there came
around him an awful silence, as if the world itself stood still.
Then his hands felt as if endued with a giant's strength as they made
a clutch at Morley's mouth and throat, for he had resolved to
strangle or suffocate him.
But it was an attempt, and no more, for ere he could achieve his
detestable purpose, he felt his hands seized, and one was grasped as
if by the teeth of some wild animal.
The bite, with the terror and confusion it occasioned, so bewildered
him, that the wild cry of agony which roused all on board the ship
escaped his lips; he dealt a heavy blow in the dark at some one or
something, he knew not what, and breaking from the strange assailant,
fled, baffled, in consternation, to the after cabin.
CHAPTER XVI.
DREAD.
"What the devil is the matter?" asked Captain Phillips, as he hastily
donned his pea-jacket, and addressed Hawkshaw, who was seated on the
cabin locker, panting with excitement.
"Did you utter that dismal howl, Captain Hawkshaw?" added Dr. Heriot,
impatiently; "speak, sir, have you lost your voice?"
"Very nearly, and my senses too," groaned the other, whose cup of
shame and misery was well-nigh full now.
"What has happened?"
"Look at my hand!" said Hawkshaw, striving to gain time for
thought--to rally his scattered wits for the coming _dénouement_--for
an explanation, or a bold defiance.
"Well, what has happened?"
"It is almost bleeding--bitten."
"By what--by whom?" asked everyone at once
"A madman."
"Mad!" was exclaimed in wild tones by all.
"Yes," said Hawkshaw, through his clenched teeth, and with a glare in
his eye, that seemed somewhat akin to insanity; "one of those fellows
between-decks--one of those wretches we took off the raft (a curse
upon them all!) has bitten me."
"But which of them?" asked Heriot, who had now completely attired
himself.
"Oh, I don't know which, and I care not which," replied the wretched
Hawkshaw, as he rubbed and blew his breath upon his aching digits.
"And he actually bit you?"
"Yes; have I not already said so?"
"What were you doing?"
"Doing--adjusting the clothes upon him," replied Hawkshaw, after a
pause; "and look you, he has almost bitten my hand to the bone."
As he spoke he held up his right hand to the cabin lamp, and there
certainly were the marks of a row of teeth distinctly visible, for
Noah Gawthrop had been determined to give Morley's nocturnal
assailant a stamp by which he would know him again.
"For all that I know, he may have half strangled one of his
companions, in addition to this wild assault upon me," added the
Texan captain, as a sudden thought occurred to him, for in his
confusion he did not know how far he had assaulted Morley.
Heriot, a very sharp-witted and intelligent fellow, who, at his
native university, had met men from all parts of the world, and had
thus gained a considerable insight of human character, had been
scrutinising Hawkshaw keenly, and something in his manner, or in the
expression of his face, seemed to excite some vague suspicion--Heriot
knew not exactly of what--in his mind.
"To me this appears like an impossibility," he began; "excuse me
saying so, but what motive----"
"I know nothing of motives, Dr. Leslie Heriot," interrupted Hawkshaw,
becoming furious and desperate; "but this I know, that I may be
tempted to use my revolver with a vengeance, if I am molested again
by anyone on board this ship; be assured of that."
At this sudden outburst, Heriot gave a smile of well-bred surprise,
and glanced at the captain, who said:
"This is a most extraordinary and unaccountable affair, and must be
instantly inquired into. I am sure that the poor fellows looked
quiet enough when I saw them last. Steward--Joe, a lantern--quick!
Come, doctor, Mr. Basset--we'll see to this."
"Oh, Leslie," cried Rose, "take care, take care!"
"Oh, papa--dear papa, you, at least, must not go," added Ethel, who
had now put on her morning wrapper, or dressing-gown, and appeared at
the door of her little cabin.
"Pooh, pooh, Miss Basset, there is not the slightest cause for fear,
my dear girl," said the captain, laughing, as Joe lit a ship-lantern.
"But the poor man's sufferings may have made him vicious--wild."
"I'll take care of your papa, ladies; and bite the fellow's head off,
mayhap, if he bites him. Come, Captain Hawkshaw, and show us which
of the four is the culprit, and then, if need be, we shall get the
bilboes ready." *
* Iron shackles used on board ship to secure the feet of prisoners.
"No, no, I cannot," replied Hawkshaw, with a sullen and hang-dog
expression in his now white and livid face.
"What--you won't go?"
"No."
The captain looked at him with a smile of contempt.
"Lead the way, captain," said Mr. Scriven Basset, impatiently; for
his ideas of legal prerogative and position were gradually becoming
stronger as he drew near the scene of his future judgeship--the sunny
Isle of France. "I am anxious to see the end of this singular
affair."
"Oh, most accursed fate!" murmured Hawkshaw, as he sank upon the
stern locker. "All is over with me now!" he added, as Mr. Basset,
the captain, Heriot, and others quitted the cabin, to go forward
between decks, and then every minute that elapsed seemed at least an
hour.
The cabin appeared to whirl round him like a great revolving
cylinder; there was a confused hum of voices, that seemed to mingle
with the rush of many waters, in his ear.
Again his former thoughts of suicide occurred to him; but his soul
shrank within him at the idea of self-destruction. A loaded revolver
was close by; he glanced at it with haggard and wistful eyes. One
bullet would enable him to escape the coming shame, and by so doing,
he would gain a triumph--a ghastly victory over them all.
But then he thought of a suicide's grave in the midnight sea; shot
off a grating to leeward, without even a prayer, and shudderingly he
withdrew his hand, and closing his eyes, muttered, with quivering
lips:
"No, no--I cannot--I cannot."
At this moment a soft little hand was laid gently upon his, and
looking up he beheld Ethel Basset.
Ignorant of all this man's secret life; of his crimes committed in
wild and lawless lands; the wrong and cruelty of which he had been
guilty to herself and to Morley--she surveyed him with something of
pity, and he gazed at her bewildered, and in silence, thinking that
she never looked so lovely as at this terrible moment of his
humiliation and suspense.
She wore a loose and ample morning wrapper, of white stuff, spotted
with red; it was profusely frilled, and fitted closely round her
delicate throat, and her tapered white arms came softly out from its
wide falling sleeves. A white tasselled cord confined it at the
waist, and she had no ornament about her, save Morley Ashton's ring.
Turned hastily off her face, and behind her white and handsome ears,
her dark, glossy, and glorious hair fell in a long mass down her
back, and she was knotting it up with her right hand (thus showing to
perfection a smooth white arm and dimpled elbow), while her left, so
soft and small, rested on the hand of Hawkshaw; the hand that only
five minutes before had aimed a death-clutch at the throat of Morley
Ashton.
She gazed kindly and inquiringly into his pale and agitated face, for
his present wretched and guilty aspect astonished and perplexed her.
Her colour, always so delicate, was somewhat heightened beyond its
usual roseleaf tint, by the late excitement, and, as we have said,
Hawkshaw, with all his selfishness, with all his guilt and
bloodthirstiness, thought he never beheld her looking so lovely and
so pure as at this, to him, most terrible time.
She was about to speak, when several footsteps were heard coming
towards the great cabin, on which she retired hastily to her own, and
shut the door.
"Oh, my God! they are coming to denounce me! Peril--disgrace--ruin,
and no escape but death!" groaned Hawkshaw, covering his eyes with
one hand, while the other fell, by chance--or was it fatality!--on
the cold butt of the loaded revolver.
CHAPTER XVII.
UNMASKED.
The time spent by the captain and his companions in the place where
the four castaways were located must have appeared interminable to
the wretched Hawkshaw, as they remained there fully an hour, for much
had to be inquired into, and much more related and explained.
Resolved to question, cross-question, sift, and refine, and all
unconscious of the surprise that was awaiting him, Mr. Basset, with
tolerable lawyer-like activity and importance, fussily followed jolly
Captain Phillips, who had one hand stuffed into that pocket of his
pea-jacket which held his revolver, and in the other hand he swung a
ship's lantern.
To Mr. Basset's unpractised eye, the 'tween decks seemed rather a
dreary den, to say the best of it. It was lower in height, or, to
write more correctly, between beams, than the ship's cabin, and its
furniture was exceedingly simple, consisting only of a small breaker
or gang-cask, and wooden drinking tot, set upon a sea-chest which was
securely lashed to the bulkhead, while a railway rug and poncho
wrapper lay thereby.
Then his eye caught four queer-looking long bags, that swung by clews
and cleats from the beams longitudinally, and ont of each of the
aforesaid bags a human face was peering, with eyes expressive of
inquiry and interest; but their features could not be discerned, for
all was darkness, or nearly so, except where the light of the lantern
fell.
"Hallo, my friends," said Captain Phillips, as he held his lantern
up, and took a rapid survey of them all, "so you are awake, I see.
What the deuce has been doing here, that we are all turned up in the
night, or rather the middle of the morning watch, in this way, eh?"
"I don't understand what it is all about, sir," replied Tom Bartelot;
"but a few minutes ago, in my sleep, I heard a terrible cry."
"Who was it that bit the gentleman?" asked Phillips, angrily.
"I did, your honour," replied Noah Gawthrop, looking over the edge of
his hammock, and twitching his grizzled forelock.
"You--and you acknowledge it!" said the captain, turning towards him
with angry surprise.
"Yes; and I hope as I have left the marks o' my blessed grinders in
him, that's all."
"The fellow is mad," said Mr. Basset in an undertone.
"Do you think so?"
"Who else would talk thus?"
"Likely enough, sir," whispered Joe, the steward; "for I heard that
old one this morning saying that he was tormented by a marine
drummer, and shouting for all hands to reef topsails. He seemed to
think himself on board a man-o'-war."
"A little crazed, perhaps, by recent suffering," suggested Mr.
Basset. "A short sleep may soothe him; but a bite is a serious
offence--a very serious offence."
"I ain't no more mad than your honour," said Noah, who had overheard
their whispers, and looked up angrily; then he added, in a different
tone, "But--is that you, Captain Phillips--lor' bless you, don't you
mind o' me?"
"No, I do not," replied the captain, curtly.
"Not remember old Noah Gawthrop, as sailed for ten year and more with
your brother, Captain Bill, and was wrecked with him in the Straits
of Sunda?"
"Noah, it is, by Jupiter!" exclaimed Phillips, shaking the old
seaman's hand with genuine warmth. "This is, indeed, strange; 'tis
long since we last met, Noah."
"Five years ago, if it is a day, since I came home from the West
Ingees, and ran up the Mersey in a old sweating sugar-ship--her
berths aft and bunks for'ard a swarming with bugs and cockroaches, a
crew of Jamaiky darkies, and her lower rigging all alive with
poll-parrots. I see you minds o' me, Captain Phillips--lor' bless
me, in course you does, and know that I am no more mad than yourself,
or my own good captain here, Mr. Thomas Bartelot, of the _Princess_
as was, poor old craft."
"Oh, glad to see you, captain," said Phillips, shaking hands with Tom
on this blunt introduction; "and glad too, that we came so
opportunely to save you."
"Yes," resumed Noah, "I'm the man as saved your nevvy, Master Bill,
when all hands went down in the Straits of Sunda, and I brought the
child home with me, and gave him to yourself, as your honour very
well knows. I was father and mother, dry nurse, and wet nurse, and
everything to that 'ere boy, I was; and many a time I rope's-ended
him, too, for putting plugs o' powder in my 'baccy pipe, or japanning
the starn o' my trousers with new pitch. So you knows me well
enough."
"Of course I do, Noah, my brave old salt."
"Of course you does. Ah, sir, your brother, Captain Bill, would
never have been lost, but in passing the straits during a south-east
monsoon, he hugged the coast of Java, with his port tacks aboard, and
so we went bump ashore on a blessed coral reef, where the sea made
clean breaches over us. I made a grab at Master Bill, who was
hauling his pet tom-cat by the tail out o' the wash to leeward, and
then we all crouched under the weather-bulwarks, ready to cut away
the masts, if necessary. But the sea saved us the trouble; for there
came a regular snorer, that carried away the topmasts at the caps,
breaking them sharp off like 'baccy pipes, the midship-house, boats,
and everything went to leeward, while the ship parted, breaking her
back fairly on the reef. I found myself in the dark, swimming away
for the bare life, among sharks and long seaweed, with little Bill
riding on my back like Sinbad's Old Man o' the Sea, and, top of all,
the tom-cat, holding on to Bill with all his claws out. 'Hold on,
you young warmint,' says I, and so he did, until we got ashore, and
next day we were sent off by the Dutch in a queer jigamaree, with a
lateen sail forward, and a dandy in her starn, to a British
man-o'-war, that was bearing through the straits on a taut bowline,
before the same monsoon that finished us off on the coral reef."
"But why did you bite the man?" asked Captain Phillips, who had
listened with some impatience, returning to the matter in hand.
"Because he is a pirate, if ever one broke biscuit!'
"Take care, Noah; he is one of our cabin passengers."
"I was a watching him, your honour, and I had queer suspicions that
he meant foul play to one of us at least, and so I pretended to
snooze, keeping watch with one eye open, though he did pass the light
twice athwart my face. I saw him, your honour, though he doused the
glim, and I could make out that he was going to strangle--to garotte,
in true Californy style--my shipmate here, young Master Morley
Ashton, who was asleep----"
"Mr. Morley Ashton!" exclaimed Mr. Basset, in an excited voice, as he
hurried round to the other side of the hammock; "I should like to see
the gentleman who is named so."
"Surely I should know that voice!" cried Morley, springing up in his
hammock, and almost falling back within it, overwhelmed by
astonishment on finding himself face to face with Mr. Basset--with
the father of Ethel!
"What is this?--who is this? You, Morley Ashton, on board the
_Hermione_?" exclaimed Mr. Basset, in a gust of genuine bewilderment,
equalled only by that of Morley, who trembled with anticipation and
astonishment, and who felt at his heart a sudden and clamorous joy.
"You one of the four men taken from that melancholy wreck! How came
it to be? Explain--tell me. Good heavens! how? Oh, my poor boy,
Morley, we have long numbered you with the dead, and have mourned for
you as such--none more, believe me, than my dearest girl."
"Where am I, sir?--what ship is this?" stammered Morley, as a new
light began to break in upon him, while grasping Mr. Basset's hand,
with one arm thrown caressingly round his neck. "Am I on board the
_Hermione_? Has she picked us up--saved us from death?"
"Yes, sir; this is the _Hermione_, of London," said Captain Phillips,
"too long delayed by contrary winds, and the loss of a mast near the
Canaries."
"Oh, Morley Ashton," began Mr. Basset, "if you did but know----"
"Ashton?--Ashton?" interrupted the captain; "are you the gentleman
who was to have sailed with us--who telegraphed for a cabin berth,
and was not forthcoming when we dropped down the river?"
"I am the same, sir."
"What came of you? How did you disappear?"
"I was a victim to the foulest treachery and cowardice!"
"At the hands of whom?" asked Mr. Basset.
"Cramply Hawkshaw."
"What! he whom Gawthrop bit in the dark?"
"Bit, that I might know him again, your honour, for I warn't strong
enough to grapple with him."
"And who, he says, attempted to strangle you in your sleep?" asked
Dr. Heriot, coming forward.
"Hawkshaw here! on board with you--with _her_!" said Morley, in a
faint voice, as certain undefinable, but terrible, suspicions arose
in his mind.
"Yes; he is with us, a cabin passenger," replied Mr. Basset.
"Here! here! on board the _Hermione_?" continued Morley, almost
vacantly, for his brain spun round.
"Yes, sir, in your place," said the captain.
"Great Heavens!"
"Your passage was taken out, your berth ready, the money paid; but
you had slipped from your moorings somehow, so he went in your place.
There is nothing very wonderful in that, is there?"
"He went with Ethel?" said Morley, in a tremulous and imploring voice
to Mr. Basset.
"He came with me, as the son of my old friend, Tom Hawkshaw, of
Lincoln's Inn, to push his fortune in the Mauritius," said Mr.
Basset, hastily.
"And Ethel--Ethel?" continued Morley, in a broken voice, while his
eyes filled with tears.
"Is well, though she has mourned for you deeply," replied Mr. Basset.
"But pray be calm, my poor boy. How terribly agitated you are! Do
not doubt her, or misunderstand me."
"And I shall see her--see her again?"
"Very soon--in ten minutes, perhaps."
"Oh, this is indeed happiness," sighed Morley, sinking back in his
hammock. "Heaven is kind--most singularly merciful to me. But
Hawkshaw--that wretch!" he added, starting up with new energy. "Oh,
Ethel must shun, avoid and loathe him, for she knows not that he is
an assassin!"
"How an assassin?"
"Or one who would be such."
"A regular-built pirate, and no mistake--a rascally Californy
piccaroon!" added Noah, with sundry adjectives, which we feel the
propriety of omitting.
"Aye, Mr. Basset, as Douglas Jerrold says, 'he is a scoundrel, who
would whet a knife on his father's tombstone to kill his mother.'
Oh, you know him not as I too surely, too truly, and too well know
him, and all of which he is capable."
"These are severe and sweeping assertions. Explain this enigma--this
most unaccountable affair."
"You remember, Mr. Basset, the night of my sudden disappearance from
Laurel Lodge?"
"I shall never forget it. You had gone to Acton station, concerning
a telegram from London."
"Concerning a berth in this very ship!"
"Yes."
"Returning alone, I met Cramply Hawkshaw, who entered into
conversation with me, offered me a cigar, gradually lured me to the
summit of the rocks above the Chine. There we sat listening to the
village chimes in the old church tower, chatting, smoking, and
enjoying the pleasant breeze from the Bristol Channel, till he,
inspired by rivalry, jealousy, and hate, or by some fiendish
combination of them all, at a moment when I was completely off my
guard, by one furious blow struck me over the cliff into the Chine!"
"The Chine--oh, my God!" said Mr. Basset, in a voice that sank low
with horror. "We came to look for you, Cramply and I, for he said
that he had seen you walking there, and certainly we found marks of a
struggle--the gravel dislodged, and the turf torn. You fell into the
sea of course, but from that height! How--by what miracle did you
escape?"
"A miracle, a narrow chance indeed! A turf-covered ledge received
me, and there for many, many hours, more than a night and a day, I
remained sleepless, and scarcely daring to move, chilled less perhaps
by the cold sea-breeze than by the horror of drowning if I rolled off
the narrow shelf, of dying slowly by starvation and falling a prey to
the sea-birds at last, till I was saved by my friend Captain
Bartelot, whose vessel passed below me."
Excited by the memory of all he had undergone, Morley's voice
faltered and grew weak as he spoke.
"Yes, sir," said Bartelot, striking in, "we chanced to see a human
figure perched up among the gulls and cormorants, so we made a longer
tack close in shore, and sent off a boat's crew, who climbed to the
top of the rocks and hove him the end of a line. He was then towed
up, and being quite insensible, Morrison, my mate, brought him on
board. So, being outward bound--a storm having been signalled by
Admiral Fitzroy, and beginning to break white in the offing, we had
no time for backing and filling, or chopping about the rocky shore at
Acton--I stood right down the Channel, intending to put him aboard
the first suitable ship. We never overhauled any but foreigners, so
we took him with us to Rio. He has often been well-nigh out of his
mind sometimes, sir, about--I may be pardoned mentioning her
name--Miss Basset; but he was in safe hands with me, sir, his old
schoolfellow, Tom Bartelot."
"A strange and terrible story!" exclaimed Dr. Heriot.
"Poor Ethel, Morley," said Mr. Basset; "oh, what she has endured, and
in silence, too!"
"I can know that well, by what I, too, endured. Dear, dear Ethel;
and I shall see her----"
"So soon as she can be wisely informed of the great surprise, of the
great joy, that await her. But that fellow, Hawkshaw--the fact of
how I have been duped, deluded, and disgraced by the pretended
friendship of such a man, falls like a thunderbolt upon me!"
exclaimed good, easy Mr. Scriven Basset, with more energy than he was
wont to exhibit, "and to think of my poor, sweet, and virtuous girls
being contaminated by the society of such a man, and my secluded home
being polluted by his presence, though sheltered there under the name
of his good and worthy father! Damme! it's enough to make one
suspicious of all mankind!"
Mr. Basset thrust one hand into his breast, and the other under the
tails of his coat, and trod to and fro the whole length of the
'tween-decks, about twelve feet or so, swelling and reddening with
just ire and indignation.
Bartelot, Morrison, and Gawthrop added many details corroborating the
remarkable escape of Morley from Acton Chine, and descriptive of his
mental sufferings during the voyage to Rio de Janeiro; and by the
time this interview, so full of stirring interest to all concerned in
it, was over, and the captain and his companions had quitted the
'tween-decks, a new day had dawned, the sun was rising brightly from
the sea, and throwing the shadow of the lofty _Hermione_ far astern
upon the gleaming waters to the westward.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE EXPULSION.
Hawkshaw's hand, as we have stated, fell unconsciously on the loaded
revolver which lay by his side, but was instantly withdrawn.
He had not the courage to die by his own hand, in the fashion to
which the old Romans were so partial in all their griefs and
difficulties. He looked up with a half-haggard and half-bullying or
defiant expression, as Captain Phillips, Mr. Quail, the doctor, and
Mr. Basset entered the cabin.
The latter gave him a long, steady, and withering glance, and after
knocking at the door of Ethel's little cabin or state-room, entered
it hastily. Then the varying exclamations of astonishment and joy
which were heard within it sounded as additional knells of
disgrace--they might be those of death to Cramply Hawkshaw; and now,
after surveying him long and sternly, Captain Phillips addressed him
with great deliberation.
Hawkshaw found himself regarded with horror and aversion, but no
ashes of fire were heaped upon his miserable head, for the good,
jolly captain was the only person who spoke.
"Sir, give me up that revolver."
Hawkshaw seemed to be stunned, and did not reply.
"The revolver, sir; do you hear me?"
"Why?"
"Never mind why or wherefore--they matter little now."
"I thought that we were all armed for a particular purpose."
Captain Phillips smiled bitterly.
"Yes," said he; "but you can be no longer trusted with arms on board
my ship."
"Indeed!" said Hawkshaw, who knew not very well whether to cringe or
bully, and pondered in his desperation.
"Yes; so surrender your arms. I'm an easy-going fellow, but one who
won't be trifled with, for all that. Your revolver!"
Hawkshaw reluctantly handed Captain Phillips the loaded weapon.
"Thank you. Now, sir, I must inform you that we have had a long
interview with the men in the 'tween-decks--those whom you so kindly
undertook to watch, though such a duty was scarcely necessary--and
after the revelations they have made, but chiefly after the account
given of you by Mr. Morley Ashton--you wince at the name, I see--you
can no longer remain in the cabin of the _Hermione_."
"Revelations! Did I not say that one--one at least--of these men was
mad?"
"You shall not be sent forward," continued the captain, "among my
crew, however congenial some of their spirits may be."
"What, then?" asked Hawkshaw, with undisguised alarm.
"You shall be secluded between decks till the end of the voyage, or
be sent on shore at the first land we make, in the hope that we may
never see you more."
"At the Cape of Good Hope?" asked Hawkshaw eagerly.
"I do not mean to touch at the Cape now, as we are so far to the
southward of it," replied the captain, little foreseeing that this
information was to have a fatal influence over all on board.
"Sir," replied Hawkshaw, gathering courage for a moment, "may I
remind you that my passage to the Isle of France----"
"Is paid for, you would say?"
"Yes--_carambi_!"
"By Mr. Ashton's money. Ha! ha! I have known of a man being
marooned on a rock in the Gulf of Florida--aye, or set adrift on a
hencoop, or in a punt, with three biscuits and a bottle of water, in
the middle of the South Pacific--a poor devil who was far less
criminal than you. I would to Heaven we had never seen you. No ship
with such a thorough-bred rascal on board could hope for a prosperous
voyage; and," continued the captain angrily, as his professional
superstitions came to memory, "the fact of having you with us
sufficiently accounts for the loss of our foremast after passing the
Madeira Isles, for the mysterious loss of poor Manfredi, and the head
winds we have uniformly encountered. Why, damme! we might as well
have had a parson, or an undocked Tom cat aboard. Seclusion from
among us is a punishment slight indeed for the crimes of which you
have been guilty, but chiefly for your double and dastardly attempts
upon the life of that young gentleman. You understand me, sir."
"I understand only, Captain Phillips, that your mind has been
poisoned by a parcel of infamous falsehoods, which, on the first
shore we make, I shall ram down the throat of him who uttered them
with a pistol-bullet!"
"I hope the person referred to will not be such a confounded donkey
as to exchange shots with a convicted assassin," replied Phillips.
"Assassin! I--I--I----"
Choking with sudden and uncontrollable passion, Hawkshaw sprang up
from the locker, his bloodshot eyes flashing with fire, his face pale
and haggard, the veins of his temples swollen like whipcord, and his
heart stung with the idea that Ethel in her little cabin could hear
all that passed. His voice, husky and inarticulate, failed him, but
his bearing was so threatening that Captain Phillips cocked the
revolver pistol, and said, sternly:
"If you attempt to strike me, I will shoot you down like a gull.
Quit the cabin this instant, and if you would keep your heels out of
the bilboes, never let me find you aft the break of the quarterdeck."
Hawkshaw's hands were opened and clenched convulsively, as if his
fingers twitched for an object to grapple with, and on which to vent
the pent-up rage and shame that consumed him; yet he found that he
had no resource but to submit and retire, so he slowly left the
cabin, but with an air of defiance which so ill became him, and so
ill befitted his present predicament, that Phillips, the mate, and
doctor, knew not whether to pity or laugh at him.
But the whole episode was a painful one, as they could not forget, at
this climax of his humiliation, that this man, so summarily disgraced
and cast forth from among them as an unclean thing, had been for so
many months their companion and associate, their friend, and, to all
appearance, their equal.
He repaired to the quarter-deck, and the cool breeze that swept over
the morning sea gratefully fanned his flushed face and throbbing
brow. For a time he was blind with rage, and trod mechanically to
and fro over the very cabin wherein Ethel and Rose (now filled with
tumultuous joy by the strange tidings their father had brought them,
were making a hurried toilette); till the appearance of Mr. Quail,
who came to relieve the deck, to call the watch, to change the
helmsman, and have the log hove, recalled the stern order of Captain
Phillips, and, descending the break of the quarter-deck, he went
sullenly forward--a proscribed man.
As he did so a mocking laugh met his ear.
It came from Pedro Barradas--who had just relieved the wheel, and
who, being ignorant of the events that had transpired in the cabin,
naturally supposed that Hawkshaw had, as usual, quitted the
quarter-deck to avoid him.
For a moment this laugh stung him deeply; but many emotions were
conflicting in his breast on this miserable morning, so that he
scarcely felt anger at Barradas.
He had passed a sleepless night; but no sensation of weariness felt
he, as he clambered into the fore-rigging, and sat there to consider
his position--to watch the inmates of the cabin, and to avoid the
crew, until he could conceal himself somewhere for the night.
Oh, how he longed for its friendly shadow and concealment--longed for
it, while the beams of the morning sun gilded all the sea, and lit up
the full swelling sails of the _Hermione_.
Feverish, and madly excited by the many emotions which had convulsed
him since the moment in which he recognised the sleeping Morley
Ashton, and more especially by the terrible and wicked thoughts of
the past night, a longing for vengeance, or victory, rather--victory
at any risk or price--filled his heart, till he nearly became mad,
when thoughts of his rival's safety, restoration, and triumph were
contrasted with his own exposure, expulsion, and disgrace.
The crew, among whom he dared not venture, would soon learn the whole
story, and, knowing alike their reckless character and their
nefarious projects, he already felt, by anticipation, the sharp
stings of their fierce and brutal mockery, and the coming vengeance
of those he had contemptuously ignored--the Barradas.
"Why did I not put a bullet through my head before old Phillips took
away my pistol?" thought he. "Had I done so, by this time, perhaps,
I would have been peacefully at rest below the surface of that blue
and shining sea, instead of being perched up here, a moody wretch--a
miserable and disappointed outcast."
Slowly, slowly the sunny morning wore on.
He heard Joe the steward's bell--once a welcome sound--rung for
breakfast. The smoking ham and eggs, broiled chicken, tea and
coffee, were borne from the steaming galley, aft to the cabin; he
knew that the whole party, with their familiar faces, would be
assembled at table as usual; and others, too, he shrewdly
anticipated, would be there. Nor was he mistaken; for all the four
castaways were so much better this morning, notwithstanding the
recent disturbance, that they had quitted their hammocks, with the
intention of coming on deck.
Perhaps they had already begun to feel that necessity which so soon
impresses the sick or ailing on board of ship--the expediency of
getting well as soon as possible (especially in such a ship as the
_Hermione_); for, after a time, there is but little sympathy to spare
for useless hands, either fore or aft; "an overstrained sense of
manliness being the characteristic of seafaring men, or rather of
life on board ship."
Apart from these considerations, and being bodily better, the
knowledge that Ethel Basset was only separated from him by a few
planks worked a miracle upon Morley Ashton.
Their sodden and surf-beaten rags had all been thrown overboard, so
Morley was attired from the wardrobe of Dr. Heriot; the others were
supplied by the captain and Mr. Basset; and the appearance of Noah
Gawthrop, when rigged out in a black swallow-tailed dress coat,
belonging to the latter gentleman, with gilt buttons, and lappels of
watered silk, an old crimson velvet waistcoat, an ample pair of dark
tartan trowsers, and a sou'-wester of Mr. Quail's, was unique, and
excited considerable speculation when he came on deck.
Forgetting his "landlubber-like toggery," with sailor-like instinct,
Noah cast his eyes aloft, and critically surveyed all the rigging,
and a smile, that puckered up the wrinkles of his old face, showed
that the result of his scrutiny was satisfactory.
His remarkably ill-favoured visage was in no way improved by a patch
of black sticking-plaster, with which Dr. Heriot had covered a cut on
the bridge of his copper-coloured nose, the result of Hawkshaw's
random blow in the matutinal row between decks.
Descending the break of the quarter-deck, Noah went forward, to get
his breakfast with the crew, concerning whom the officers of the ship
deemed it yet unwise to give him any warning.
He had considerably recovered his strength, and was eagerly welcomed
by the seamen as he walked forward, and all gathered in a group about
him in the break of the deck at the forecastle bunks, clamorous to
hear his yarn about the loss of his ship--where she was from, where
bound to, what she was loaded with, and so forth--to hear all about
himself, and, though recorded last, not the least exciting topic on
which they wished enlightenment, was the cry that had come from
between decks in the first hour of the morning watch.
Noah, seated on the barrel of the windlass, with a tin mug of
scalding hot coffee, together with a slice of salt junk, and Quaco's
"plum-duff," after denouncing the tea and arrowroot of Joe the
steward, proceeded to give, in his own fashion, a rambling narrative
of all the recent events in which he had borne a part.
The words which he uttered did not reach the ear of Hawkshaw, in his
lofty perch; but suddenly all eyes were simultaneously cast aloft to
where he sat near the sling of the foreyard, and Noah threateningly
shook his clenched hand at him, while a roar of mocking laughter from
the crew--that bitter laughter which he so long dreaded--filled his
heart with rage and spite, that he nearly fell from his seat among
his tormentors.
For a time, it seemed as if all these villainous upturned faces--the
thick, African nose and sausage-like lips of Quaco, the glittering
eyes and olive face of Zuares Barradas, the hideous squat form of
Sharkey--a wretch with the life of Manfredi to atone for--Badger,
with his sunken orbs and great square jaw; Bolter, the
unhealthy-looking Canadian, and all the rest--had been turned into
mocking fiends, who would yet drive him to more desperate deeds, for
he was now expelled, cast forth from among those with whom he had
associated, without a prospect of return, or a hope of retrieving
himself.
"Is not life altogether a long comedy," says some one, "with Fate for
the stage-manager, and Passion, Inclination, Love, Hate, Revenge,
Ambition, Avarice, by turns, in the prompter's box?"
Hawkshaw felt bitterly in his soul that his life had been a tragedy,
in which the evil passions alone had played their parts by turns, and
sometimes all together.
What would the last scene of that tragedy be?
"Hallo, foretop there!" cried Bill Badger, the tall, lantern-jawed,
and odious Yankee. "Well, capting, I guess you're chawed up rayther.
Thunder and lightning! come, ship with us in the little game we've
got in hand. Jine us; you carn't do better now; and who knows but
you may get your gal with the black shiners, after all?"
"_El cuchillo primero!_ (My knife first)" said Zuares Barradas,
touching the haft of his Albacete knife with ferocious significance.
Honest Noah opened his eyes very wide at these singular remarks,
which were followed by another roar of brutal laughter. On this,
Hawkshaw, to get, if possible, beyond the reach of their
conversation, trembling in every limb with rage, and with a strange
blindness coming over his sight, as the old clamorous ferocity
gathered in his soul, while feeling that the mocking words had not
been uttered in vain--as they suggested certain ideas of probable
vengeance on his exposers--proceeded to climb farther up the rigging,
until he perched himself on the fore-crosstrees, his past experience
having made him seaman enough to achieve this.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE MEETING.
How shall I describe the almost mute meeting between Ethel Basset and
Morley Ashton? or shall I omit it altogether?
Instinctively, and with proper good taste, all in the cabin left them
to themselves for a time; and even Rose--the saucy and impulsive
Rose--who looked just as Morley had last seen her when playing at
croquet in Acton Chase, with her pretty straw hat, her green zouave
jacket, and tiny bronzed Balmoral boots, after rushing back to give
him one kiss more, tripped upstairs on deck to join the doctor.
Mr. Basset had managed to break the matter--the vast secret--to Ethel
skilfully and gently, by saying that the wrecked men could afford
some information concerning Morley Ashton; that they knew where he
was, that one had seen him lately, that he was alive and well, and so
forth. Thus there was no scene, no screaming, no fainting for joy,
and certainly no dying of that pleasant emotion. Such a climax as
the latter would have put the narrator of these events very much
about indeed, for, our story being a true one, this little romantic
portion of it dovetails with the rest--rather flatly, perhaps,
because it is _true_.
For a time neither could exactly "realise" (to use a good
Americanism) that they were reunited--Ethel, that Morley lived;
Morley, that he should so suddenly find himself by the side of her
whom he had been pursuing through the deep, reunited, and on board
the _Hermione_, of London.
Again and again she fell upon his breast, repeating, in a voice that
was almost breathless, but exquisitely touching:
"My darling--oh, my darling! can this be possible? Is this reality?"
Their poor hearts were too full to permit much to be said; nor would
it be fair to them, or interesting to others, to rehearse all the
little that they did say then. But how much had they to ask, to
relate, to explain, and to deplore?
Morley had undergone so much, he had seen so many strange faces, and
places too--Rio de Janeiro, with bay, mountains, and isles; Tristan
d'Acunha, with its cliffs and mighty cone; Diego Alvarez, with its
sea-elephants and fur seals; the Island of the Hermit, with its
strange story of old Don Pedro de Barradas. He had encountered,
moreover, so many gales of wind, the wreck, with all its contingent
woes and horrors, and so forth, that Laurel Lodge, and Ethel's face,
figure, and whole image had seemed ten years off--at least, ten years
appeared to have elapsed since their sudden separation.
To poor Ethel the intervening blank had seemed greater, for Morley
had lived with hope, while she had none; and, to understand and
conceive her utter bewilderment, we must bear in mind all she had
undergone.
The sudden and unaccountable disappearance of Morley, and the
supposed mode of his death (for it was only supposed, after all), had
occasioned a more bitter sorrow, a keener and more protracted agony,
than she could have endured by weeping at his deathbed, and
afterwards knowing that he was at rest in a grave she could see,
where she might plant flowers and drop her tears.
To have seen him borne forth from Laurel Lodge to Acton churchyard,
amid all the real and paid-for pageantry of woe, would have been
actual contentment, when contrasted with all she had suffered--doubt,
uncertainty, despair!
Oh, she felt how deeply she must loathe Hawkshaw as the author of all
their woe!
But now Morley was beside her, with her hands in his, looking
lovingly into her loving eyes, drinking in her murmured words,
sitting close, very close, to her, so this reunion was as stunning
and bewildering in its own way as their separation had been.
They were dearer to each other now by a thousand degrees than ever
they were before, even after Morley's absence in Africa.
"It is good sometimes to be absent," says a graceful writer,
truthfully; "better still to be dead, as regards our own
imperfections and our equally imperfect friends. How they rise up
and praise us for virtues we never possessed, and benignly pardon us
for sins we never committed. How tender over our memories grow those
who, living, worried our lives out, and might do so again, if we were
alive, to-morrow."
They had none of those upbraiding thoughts to recall. Can it be
reality, this happiness? was the uppermost idea in both their minds.
It was indeed Ethel whose head reclined upon his breast. She was
changed since last they met at peaceful Laurel Lodge, among its
rose-bowers, its giant laurels and stately sycamores; and yet how
lovely she was--lovelier even now than then.
Long grieving had imparted a sweet Madonna-like sadness to the soft
features; her cheeks were thin, and Morley's affectionate eye could
see two white hairs amid the deep black braiding of the young girl's
head; and he saw, too, that her broad, low brow, had an impress of
care and sorrow--sorrow for him, even now, when her dark eyes were
flashing through their tears of joy.
It was indeed she, that beloved one, whose name he had so dotingly
murmured to himself a thousand times, in the lonely watches of the
night, when treading the ship's deck under the sparkling stars of the
tropics, when the glorious planets of the Southern Cross--fabled by
the devout mariners of the old Spanish Argosies to be "a brooch taken
from the breast of the blessed _Madre de Dios_"--looked close and
nigh, so close as to cast the ship's shadow on the rolling waters.
It was she whom he had imagined in those wild dreams by day, when the
dreams of the waking are wilder by far than those of the sleeper.
She was beside him again, and they were hand in hand as of old, eye
bent on eye, lip meeting lip. Ethel, his own Ethel--after all they
had undergone--was beside him, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that it
seemed indeed a dream, or like a set scene, the plot or conception of
a sensational romance or playwright--a trafficker in plots,
contrivances, and _situations_.
It was so, and truth proved stronger than fiction after all!
And so, forgetful of others, forgetful assuredly of breakfast, till
Joe in the steerage and Quaco in the galley were in despair about the
eggs and coffee, they would have sat till the sun that now shone
through amber clouds so merrily ahead to the eastward had beamed his
farewell rays in crimson through the stern-windows from the westward,
had not Joe's bell, rung vigorously and impatiently for the third
time, brought the whole party, including Mr. Foster, who had no
sympathy whatever for lovers, and who felt famished, having had
charge of the deck since 4 to 8 A.M.--the morning watch--and it was
now half-past 10, alike by his appetite and the captain's chronometer.
All oblivious of the unhappy wretch who was "chewing the cud of sweet
and bitter fancy" aloft in the fore-crosstrees (where the swaying of
the mast made the rolling of the ship seem so much greater than
below) jovial indeed was the party which assembled at the sound of
Joe's bell, and how curly-headed Joe's honest English face shone as
he handed round coffee and tea, with whipped eggs for cream, or as he
skipped about with hot water, and handed to the ladies preserves in
tin cans, midshipmen's nuts and American biscuits in a silver
bread-barge, a spotless white towel thrown over the sleeve of his
round jacket the while, for Joe was something of a hybrid, half
waiter and half seaman.
Under the cheering influence of Ethel's presence Morley's features
soon became less haggard, and the keen, hawk-like expression of his
dark eyes--an expression the result of suffering, danger, and of
being long menaced by death--rapidly softened and passed away.
But with breakfast untasted, or feigning only to partake thereof,
Ethel, pale and feverish, sat like one in a dream.
For this sudden restoration of Morley to life and to her, as it would
seem from the bosom of the deep--from the greedy waves of that vast
ocean which they had been traversing for more than three months--was
more difficult of realisation than the horror of his disappearance
and of his supposed dreadful death.
But she, and Rose too, seemed so forgetful of every one present, save
Morley, that worthy young Dr. Leslie Heriot, F.R.C.S.E., actually
envied him--envied the earlier intimacy he could claim with these two
charming sisters, and felt almost jealous of the deep interest they
evinced for our poor waif of the sea.
"And so you are indeed Miss Ethel Basset?" said Tom Bartelot,
surveying the lovely girl with honest admiration and kindliness, when
he was introduced to her.
"I am, sir," replied Ethel, smiling at his manner; "and a very old
friend of Mr. Ashton's."
"I can scarcely regret the loss of my ship, the poor _Princess_" said
Tom, gallantly, "or my own suffering and misfortune, when I consider
that all have been but the means to a happy end."
"Sir?" said Ethel, blushing a little, and looking down. "You
mean----"
"That they have been the means of bringing you and my old chum and
schoolfellow, Mr. Ashton, together again," continued Tom, blundering
still more by his straightforward inferences.
"You are very kind, sir, in saying so," replied Ethel, as her colour
came and went.
"That poor lad loves you as his very life," continued Tom, warming
with his subject; "aye, far beyond it, for, when compared with you,
he don't value it more than a bit of old rope-yarn! Many an hour has
he walked the deck by my side, speaking of you, and praising you; and
even when he didn't speak, by his silence and his sighs, I knew well
enough that he was thinking all the deeper."
"My poor Morley?" said Ethel, who heard all this with joyous tears in
her eyes.
As soon as they came on deck, Noah Gawthrop presented himself in his
peculiar attire, the black dress-coat and crimson vest, and doffing
his sou'-wester at the break of the quarter-deck, twitched his
grizzled forelock, and beckoned Morley.
"Mr. Ashton," said he, in a stage whisper, "wot's this I hear forward
among that rum lot in the fok'stle?"
"Really, Noah, I cannot say. What have you heard?"
"Why, sir, they says as your sweetheart, Miss Basset--she you were
always raving about on the wreck--is aboard o' this here craft."
"Yes, Noah, she is," replied Morley, laughing.
"Is that dainty little 'un her?"
"Which?"
"She with the pork-pie hat, red stockings, and red cheeks, the
jigamaree jacket, and crinnyline?" said Noah.
"No; the taller lady."
"Smite my timbers! A regular-built stunner! Wot a wonderful
coinsiddins!--wot a cannondrum! as the player chaps say, when they go
bouncing about to the fiddles and blue fire!"
"It is destiny, Noah."
"Jest wot they says too! Well, I have given over sweethearting now;
but I have shared my pay with many o' that sort o' ware in my time.
The best of 'em all--here's her photograff done in gunpowder by the
cook's mate of the _Haurora_, as we were a working out of the harbour
of Odessa. Many a mouthful of salt-water I've swallowed, and many a
whistling Dick I've heard since that was done," said Noah, pointing
to the tattooing visible on his breast when his check shirt was open.
"But won't you introdooce me as an old shipmate? 'Mornin' marm,
'mornin'," he added, sweeping the deck with his sou'-wester, as Ethel
came frankly forward; "I'm one o' them as took Mr. Ashton off the
cliffs, and sailed with him to Rio Janairey, in South 'Meriky, in the
old _Princess_ as was."
"Indeed--oh, I am most happy to see you, sir," replied Ethel.
"Call me Noah, marm--Noah Gawthrop; I ain't used to being sir'd,"
said he, smoothing down his gray hair.
"Well, my good friend Noah," said Ethel, her eyes beaming, as she
presented her little white hand to Gawthrop, who looked at his own
hard palm, rubbed it well on his trousers as if to clean it, and then
shook hers gently and kindly, not crushing it up as the tars do
invariably in the play.
"Such a dear old thing it is!" said Rose, laughing, as she observed
this interview.
"I've made a man of him for you, Miss Ethel--I knows your name, you
see; one couldn't be long with Mr. Ashton, keeping watch and watch,
without finding out that--but I have made a man of him for you, marm.
He wasn't worth a tobacco-stopper at first; but I've taught him to
becket a royal, and send it down, yard and all, in a stiff topgallant
breeze, or a regular squall; to slush a mast from the truck-head
downward; to haul out to leeward when on the yard-arm, and if that
ain't summut towards making him a good husband for you, and one as
will, through the voyage of life, keep a firm hand on your rudder,
and trim you nicely by the starn, I don't know wot is."
Noah's praises and rough congratulations were unintelligible to
Ethel; but as they were calculated to excite laughter, and as some of
his adjectives applicable to the "shark up aloft in the
fore-cross-trees" were neither elegant nor euphonious, he was
speedily sent forward by Tom Bartelot.
Rose, perceiving that Ethel was deadly pale, for the events of the
morning proved rather too much for her strength, took her below for a
little time, by Mr. Basset's suggestion. Morley affectionately, and
tenderly handed her down the companion-stair--not a glance of his the
while, not an emotion or movement being unnoticed by Hawkshaw, who,
like a hawk, or rather like a tree-tiger robbed of his prey, was
still perched alone in the fore-crosstrees.
CHAPTER XX.
THE CORPSE-LICHT.
As Morley turned away from the companion, he was confronted by his
old friend Morrison, the mate of the defunct _Princess_. The
Scotsman's honest face was radiant with pleasure, and grasping
Morley's hand, he congratulated him warmly on the sudden change that
a few hours had made in all his plans and prospects.
"No use in thinking of Tasmania now, or calculating the chances of
finding a ship for the Isle of France, and all that, Mr. Ashton, eh?"
said Morrison, laughing.
"Thank Heaven, no," said Morley, as they descended the break of the
quarter-deck, and went to windward, near the main-rigging; "so great
has been the alteration in all our affairs, that I can scarcely
believe I was the poor doomed wretch of a few hours ago. Another
night on that wreck would have seen us all dead men, Morrison."
Then Morley thought how strange it would have been if the ship, with
Ethel on board, had passed the wreck, on board of which he was lying
dead, and there was no voice to inform them of his fate, and the
terrible mystery involving it.
"And you will be getting married now, Mr. Ashton," said Morrison,
after a pause.
"Married!" repeated Morley, with astonishment; "where--where--here
upon the open sea?"
"No; but when we are all landed at the Mauritius, where I shall have
to look out for another ship, and, perhaps, may have to work my way
home before the mast, for home to Scotland I must get somehow; and
before the mast----"
"You shall never go in that fashion, Morrison, if I can help it; but
as for my being married to Miss Basset"--Morley felt his cheek flush
and his heart flutter at the thought--"that is an event which is
somewhat distant yet, and must be so, till fortune--the old
story--smiles on me."
"That I am sorry to hear," replied the Scotsman; "what says poor
Robbie Burns, in one of the sweetest of his songs?--
"'Oh, why should Fate sic pleasure have,
Life's dearest bonds untwining?
And why sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on fortune's shining?'
Well, Mr. Ashton, hap what may, though our path in life and our homes
will aye be far apart, I'll never forget the days we have spent
together; and miserable enough some of them have been latterly,"
continued Morrison, who was a warm-hearted and impulsive fellow, and
whose keen gray eyes grew moist as he spoke; "and so, as I said, hap
what may, you shall always have the best wishes of poor Bill
Morrison, though a sailor has seldom more to give, unless it be a
quid from his tobacco-box, or a share of his grog on pay-day."
"Fortune may go and hang herself," said Morley; "she has never
favoured me till now."
"Perhaps she thought such a good-looking fellow might be left to
shift for himself," replied Morrison, laughing. "I once heard the
song I have just quoted sung by a girl, whose story was a very
strange one. She was separated from her lover by adverse
circumstances, and though they never met again in life, they repose
now in the same grave."
"Another of your melancholy yarns, Bill?"
"Well, it isn't lively. Shall I tell it to you?"
"Yes, please. Miss Basset is still below."
"I had entered on board the _Clyde_, a Greenock ship bound for
Tasmania. I was but a third mate then, and that post, you know, is
only a trifle better than being before the mast. She had several
emigrants, and among them was a man named Udny, with his wife and a
daughter whom I heard them call Hester.
"There was with them a good-looking young fellow from the shore, a
shepherd apparently, for he wore a checked tweed suit with a Border
plaid, and a broad blue bonnet. He was evidently not going the
voyage; but he continued to hover about Hester Udny with a sad and
dreary expression of face, and I could see that the girl's eyes were
red and sore with weeping.
"She was a bonnie, fair-haired Scotch lassie. That the pair were
lovers we could all see, and we knew that they were about to be
separated for ever, perhaps, as her parents, poor and expatriated
cotters, were going to find a new home in Tasmania. The lad was
poorer still, and had to remain behind in the old country.
"My heart bled for them, and from time to time I could not restrain
the inclination to observe them, as they sat, hand in hand, oblivious
of the noisy throng about them, and the coarse jests of the
cargo-puddlers, dock-porters, and especially of the sailors, each of
whom volunteered to replace her sweetheart on the voyage.
"Twilight came on as we began to cast off the warps, and were towed
down the river by a tug-steamer, so quickly, that the lights of
Greenock soon twinkled out amid the haze and smoke astern.
"The sun had set, but the red flush of the departed day lingered
brightly beyond the dark peaks of the Argyleshire mountains that look
down on the Gairloch, the Holy Loch, so solemn and still, and many
another place that I can see in memory yet, and that I often saw in
dreams when we were floating on the wreck.
"The lad was to go back, among a few other shore people, in the
tug-steamer. I heard the girl sobbing as if her heart would break
when she heard the order given for them to quit the ship, as we were
preparing to cast off the towline and loosening the topsails out of
the bunt. I was sent forward with a gang to cat and fish the best
bower anchor, and hoist it over the bows on board. When again I went
aft, sail had been made on the ship; the tug-steamer had disappeared
in the obscurity astern, and the sad girl was sitting alone, with her
eyes fixed on the lights that glistened in the castle of Dumbarton.
"We had been for some days at sea before the girl came on deck. She
looked pale, wan, and thin--worn almost to a shadow with mental
suffering and sea-sickness; and the close atmosphere of a crowded
steerage was as poison to one accustomed from infancy to the green
lanes and wooded hills of Cydesdale. All pitied her forlorn
appearance, and even the roughest sailor did not jest with her now.
"One evening she remained longer on deck than usual. I had the
wheel; the ship was running before the wind with topgallant-sails,
lower and topmast stun'sails set. The air was mild and the stars
shone clearly and brightly amid amber to the westward and the blue in
the zenith.
"With her head muffled in a plaid, Hester Udny was seated near me;
but I had my attention mostly fixed upon the binnacle. There was
silence fore and aft, and silence on the sea, when I heard the poor
lassie singing to herself in a sweet, low voice, that song of Burns',
and the notes became full of pathos fit the lines:
"'Oh why should Fate sic pleasure have,
Life's dearest bonds untwining?
And why sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on fortune's shining?'
"Suddenly she uttered a cry, and springing to me, grasped my arm.
Her plaid or shawl had fallen back, and her fine golden-coloured hair
was all in disorder; her eyes, which were a deep blue, were
unnaturally bright and dilated, and their gaze was fixed wildly upon
a part of the deck just aft the mainmast.
"'Sailor--sailor; oh, man, man, do you see that?' she asked, in tones
of terror.
"'What?' said I.
"'A flame rising up through the deck, and growing higher every
moment.'
"'Flame?' I repeated; 'there is no flame.'
"'Fire--it is not fire; it is the figure of a man--head, shoulders,
arms, and hands--flame, all flame, pale blue, wavering, and
indistinct!'
"'Nonsense, lassie, you are demented,' said I.
"'And you don't see it, sailor--you don't see it?' she continued,
wildly.
"'No, my poor lassie,' said I; 'your eyesight must deceive you.'
"'Oh, heaven!' she shrieked, in a voice that brought all who were
below tumbling up the hatches as if the ship were going down. 'Can I
be going mad? It is like the figure of my Willie!'
"She fell senseless on the deck, and was carried below.
"This alleged apparition caused great speculation, and, as we had
several emigrants from the Western Highlands on board, no small
degree of terror, so that part of the deck abaft the mainmast was
always watched narrowly and suspiciously; but neither flame nor
figure saw we, though Hester afterwards asserted that one of the
watch, who heard her cry, and hastened to assist her, passed
_through_ the figure, which wavered as he did so, but again resumed
its luminous form.
"A fortnight elapsed before she was brought on deck again; and I must
own to being shocked at the change in her appearance. Her keen blue
eyes seemed unnaturally large and sunken, with dark rings round them,
and her poor, thin, transparent hands trembled as she muffled her
plaid or shawl over her head, when the watch on deck hastened to make
a comfortable seat of old sails for her under the lee of the bulwark.
"Fearing a repetition of what had occurred before, her father and
mother insisted on taking her below when twilight approached; but,
urged by some undefinable feeling or emotion, she lingered longer
than she should have done.
"We were now in latitudes where the sun sets quickly, the dusk comes
on as rapidly, and heavily falls the dew.
"Hester Udny, pale as a spectre, was soon observed to fix her eyes
upon that portion of the deck abaft the mainmast where she had seen
the apparition, with a wild, but steady and deliberate gaze, as if
fascinated; and then, in faint and tremulous accents, she declared
that the figure of flame was again visible, pale and luminous,
sometimes turning from amber to blue, and becoming hazy; that beyond
it, or through it, she could see the line of the ship's bulwark, and
the shrouds of the mainmast, as if it was transparent.
"To undeceive her, the captain passed and repassed the place, going
each time, as she said, amid her cries, completely through the
figure, unsinged, unhurt, and all unconscious that he was doing so.
"She swooned, and was carried below again.
"What added greatly to the strangeness of this phenomenon was the
circumstance that some of the crew, when standing over the spot where
the spectre was alleged to appear, were seized with giddiness,
strange qualms, and even sickness, alike by day or night, and were
ridiculed by those of a less nervous temperament, who never felt any
such sensations, as 'green-horns' and 'fanciful lubbers.'
"Hester Udny never came on deck again--alive, at least.
"She remained in bed during the remainder of our voyage, evidently in
a rapid decline, and on the day when we made the south-west cape of
Van Diemen's Land--a high, bold, and rocky promontory--she expired.
"We were soon within six miles of the land, and her parents begged so
hard that they might be permitted to bury the poor girl ashore, that
our skipper acceded to their request. Assisted by the sailmaker,
they wrapped her up in blankets, and her body was placed on a grating
along the thwarts of the long-boat amidships, with a union-jack
spread over it. No other pall had we, nor could we have found a
better for a heart so true as that poor lassie once possessed; and
there she lay when we entered the mouth of the Derwent river, and
worked against a head wind up D'Entrecasteaux's Channel.
"I see that I am tiring you, Morley, with this long yarn; but Miss
Basset is still below, and the strangest part is yet to come.
"We got aground on the western side of the channel, but ran an anchor
out, manned the capstan, and hove the ship off. At half-past nine
that night we came to anchor in thirty-fathom water, off Hobart Town,
fired a gun, and furled our canvas, with the ensign at our gaff-peak
half hoisted, to show that death had boarded us before the harpies of
the custom-house.
"By daybreak next day I was ordered with a gang to prepare for
breaking bulk, and proceeded to unship the main-hatch prior to
starting the cargo.
"On removing a bale or two, and a few casks, how great was our horror
to find, just abaft the mainmast, and under that portion of the deck
where Hester Udny had twice seen the figure of flame--a figure
perhaps always there, though invisible to us--the skeleton of a man,
standing quite erect against the after-bulkhead!
"He was dressed in a gray tweed suit, with a blue bonnet, surmounted
by a red tuft, and a checked Border plaid was over his right
shoulder. All the flesh had dried upon his bones, so that his
clothes hung loosely on him. A few blackened shillings, and a mouldy
letter or two, were found in his pockets, so we at once supposed
that, being unable to pay his passage, the poor fellow had secreted
himself in the hold, little knowing how the cargo would be screwed
and stowed up to the beams, and how hermetically the hatches would be
closed by battens, tarpaulins, and iron bands; and thus he had
perished miserably, unheard, unseen, and unknown--perished of
suffocation, and remained there until he dried into a veritable white
mummy.
"Our commiseration was greatly increased when we found that the
mouldy green letters were written by Hester Udny, and in the poor
stowaway her parents recognised her lover, Willie, the lad whom we
had all seen hovering about her on the night we hauled out from
Greenock to drop down the Clyde.
"They were buried ashore, these two ill-starred and unfortunate
lovers, in the burying-ground of the big brick church of Hobart Town,
and the whole ship's company attended the funeral. Jack's a rough
fellow, Mr. Ashton, but I can assure you that, as we lowered their
two plain black coffins into their deep grave, side by side, with a
few fathoms of line, there was not a dry eye among us.
"And some of the roughest patted the old father on the back, as he
stood dreamily at the head of his daughter's grave, in that far
foreign land--sae far frae the Hills o' Campsie, and wondering if it
could a' be true, and that she was lying there, while tears streamed
down his cheeks, and his white hair waved i' the wind under his auld
blue bonnet."
It was a peculiarity of Morrison's, that whenever he became
interested, or perhaps more perfectly natural, he always slid into
his old Scottish vernacular.
"This is a sad story, Morrison; but the luminous figure which the
girl saw--how the deuce do you account for that? She was out of her
mind, of course?"
"Out of her mind! not at all!" responded the philosophical Scot; "she
was of a delicate temperament, and in a highly nervous and sensitive
state, thus she may or must have seen that which was invisible to us
of a rougher texture--the gaseous light proceeding from the
fermentation, putrescence, and decay of the body beneath the deck--in
short, that which we call in Scotland a corpse-Kent." *
* Concerning such appearances, see Baron von Reichenbach's work on
the "Dynamics of Magnetism, Electricity," &c. &c., with notes
thereto, by Dr. John Ashburner.
But now to return to our own story.
A long consultation ensued concerning what was to be done with
Cramply Hawkshaw, and the conclusion come to was simply that he
should be kept in the seclusion, or "Coventry," enjoined by Captain
Phillips, till the vessel reached the Isle of France; and Morley gave
a species of parole, that he would studiously avoid, nor seek in any
way to punish him for the outrage he had formerly committed, or that
which he had latterly attempted.
So the first day of Morley's re-union with his friends passed merrily
and happily away.
In honour of the event, Mr. Basset had a case containing some of his
favourite Marcobrumier and sparkling hock hoisted out of the
store-room, and in the cabin that night the wine went round so
freely, that Captain Phillips's merry eyes shone in his head, Tom
Bartelot came out in his favourite drinking-song, and poor Mr. Quail,
all unused to such beverages, when he went up to relieve the deck, at
eight bells, saw two wheels and two steersmen, and the _Hermione_,
tearing through the sea with six masts, and at least seven-and-twenty
crossyards upon her.
As it came on to blow about midnight, a reef was taken in the
topsails, and forgetting the evil projects broached by his crew on
this occasion Captain Phillips gave a double allowance of grog to the
watch, with pots of hot coffee to those who preferred them--kindness
thrown away, as it proved in the sequel.
Now that our hero and heroine are safely re-united on board the very
ship in which they were originally to have sailed together, the
reader who is versed in novel-lore may suppose that nothing remains
but for Mr. Basset to bestow his paternal benediction no them in the
true fashion of the "heavy father," and for Hawkshaw, either at once
to be forgiven, no promising to be a good boy for the future, or to
receive condign punishment.
But, unfortunately, our story is not fictitious, so it ends not here.
Morley has escaped death, and is again seated by the side of Ethel
Basset, gazing into her quiet, deep, and loving eyes as if he could
do so for ever, and never, never weary, of course; but storms as yet
unthought of, unheard and unseen, are ahead.
The good ship _Hermione_ lies bravely to her course, now east and by
north: but she carries with her the growing elements of discord,
crime, and misery.
CHAPTER XXI.
OUT OF SCYLLA AND INTO CHARYBDIS.
The little excitement consequent on discovering the piece of wreck,
the rescue of those who were on it, and the speculation caused by the
recent uproar in the night, and the exclusion of Hawkshaw from the
cabin, soon passed over among the crew, who now began to consider
that there were on board four more men to feed, to win over to the
project of Pedro Barradas--a process which seemed doubtful--or to be
got rid of, if the attempt to win them failed.
The only one with whom they supposed there was a chance of success
was Noah Gawthrop, or "Old Sticking-plaster," as they named him, from
the patch on his nose; and hence Badger, and one or two others, were
deputed to sound him on the subject; but the chief defect in their
plans arose from a doubt of the ship's whereabouts, and whether
Captain Phillips would haul up for Table Bay.
Some were disposed to enlist Hawkshaw in their daring scheme, or at
least to sound him, too, as a little homicide in no way injured a man
in their estimation; while the misery of Hawkshaw's position on board
might have made him ready to embrace any proposition that came short
of jumping into the sea.
Neglected, to all appearance forgotten--for who could sympathise with
an assassin?--he had passed the whole of the first day without food
in the fore-rigging. Towards evening Quaco brought him a pot of hot
coffee from the galley, which was a grateful beverage to his parched
throat, and in the twilight he came down stiff, sore, and benumbed,
and walked about amidships.
There, Joe, the steward, came to say, that when he "wished to go
below, his traps and berth were 'tween decks, where he would have
full leisure to employ his mind in squaring the circle."
At this jibe he clenched his hands to chastise Joe; but felt too much
crushed to make even the attempt, and turned in silence away.
On the second or third day after his expulsion from the cabin, when
retiring to his place between decks--the same quarter in which the
four hammocks had been hung--he encountered Miss Basset, and passed
her so closely that he felt her skirts brush against him.
Though dark and soft, Ethel's eyes were at times keen and piercing,
for they possessed a wonderful power and beauty of expression--a
beauty one may meet with perhaps but once in a lifetime. As she
passed Hawkshaw, she drew aside her skirt, as if to avoid contact,
and hastily cast down her eyes, as if loath to humiliate him, while
her breast heaved, and her cheek grew painfully pale; but in her
eyes, as they flashed beneath their downcast lashes, Hawkshaw could
see the horror, the loathing, and even terror with which his presence
inspired her.
More humbled than ever by this, though he could have expected nothing
else, he slunk to his place of penance--his prison he deemed it, as
he seldom left it--and casting himself upon the sea-chest, groaned
aloud in rage, in bitterness, and agony of spirit.
His food was brought to him by Quaco, the black cook; but his
appetite was gone, so each meal was taken away almost untasted.
"By golly, Massa Hawkshaw, you had better eat and keep strong," said
Quaco, with a grin on his shining face.
"Why--what the devil is it to you whether I eat or not, you black
thief?" asked Hawkshaw, savagely.
"Kindness, on'y kindness, massa--yaas, yaas," he replied, grinning
more broadly than ever.
"I want none, even from you."
"Dat be bad--dat is; but, golly! don't you know what Pedro Barradas
am up to?"
"No."
"He's agoin' to be massa capting."
"What?"
"He's agoin' to trim de ship by de starn, he is. Jolly, ain't it!
But there will be no loblolly boys allowed to skulk 'tween decks
arter dat--by golly! no," and, grinning away like an ogre, with his
yellow eyeballs gleaming, his white teeth and angular cheek-bones
shining, Quaco retired with the greasy wooden mess-kid on which he
had brought Hawkshaw some hot lobscouse.
Quaco's words made his heart beat faster, and set him to think
deeply, and with indescribable agitation.
The proposed seizure of the ship was again upon the _tapis_.
Should he acquaint Captain Phillips of it; but perhaps he knew of it
already more fully, and was quite prepared.
By his silence, Ethel might be destroyed; by speaking in time, she
might be saved; but only saved for Morley Ashton. Damning thought!
The first impulse made him start to his feet, to summon Joe; the
second made him sink back sullenly on the sea-chest again.
To join those in the cabin was but to serve Morley Ashton and those
who loathed him; to league with the mutineers, whom he dreaded, was
but to sink deeper in disgrace and more hopelessly into crime.
On shore, he would have gladly fled from them all; but in that
floating prison, the _Hermione_, he had but one resource left--to
join the crew--if he would save his own life. He felt himself
helplessly at the mercy of the Barradas; and, by joining them in the
scuffle or conflict that must precede the capture of the ship, he
might find a fair means of putting a period to Morley Ashton's
existence, if some one else did not anticipate him. Morley he hated
with a tiger-like emotion--a mingled dread and aversion.
For himself, he might yet have Ethel in his power. Some very daring,
dark, and incoherent thoughts flashed through his mind. He might
have her, in spite of Fate and Fortune, too; and afterwards, when
once on shore, she would feel herself compelled to link her future
life with his.
The shore--any shore--oh, how he longed for it.
He felt himself constrained to avoid the deck, save in the night, and
thus to spend the entire day below.
Secluded there like a felon, avoided like a reptile, he asked
himself, was he really the man of yesterday or the day before?--the
same Cramply Hawkshaw who had sat at table with the Bassets and
officers of the ship, enjoying their society and companionship, as an
equal and friend?
Was the past, indeed, gone for ever? He was on board the same ship
(how he loathed and cursed every rope in her rigging, every plank in
her hull); he still heard the same daily sounds on deck, the same
voices from time to time, and more than once he had heard Rose
Basset's ringing laugh; there was the same rush of water alongside;
the same moaning of the wind aloft; the same bell clanging the half
hours; all seemed unchanged but he alone!
He could not bring back the perfect idea of himself, or what he was.
How bitterly he felt, how impatiently he spurned the restraint
imposed upon him in the circumscribed space of the ship, and longed
for land, any land, as we have said--Africa, even Dahomey, were
welcome--that he might escape and hide himself from all; but chiefly
from the Bassets, before whom he had so successfully glozed over his
secret life and real character by a network of lies, crimes, and
cunning--a network which Morley's sudden appearance had torn aside.
Right well he knew the light in which all viewed him now--a swindler,
impostor, and worse.
Unless it lingered in the emotions of envy and wounded self-esteem,
his selfish passion for Ethel had quite evaporated, amid his shame
and humiliation, or was almost merged in his vengeful hate of
Morley--a sentiment rendered all the deeper by the wrongs already
attempted without success.
So there, between decks, in the scene of his last attempted crime, he
sat and brooded darkly on the past, or scheming out the future; a
trial he did not dread, even if the vessel reached the Isle of
France, and Morley Ashton urged it by an appeal to the civil
authorities.
There would be but his bare accusation, without a single witness to
support it, so a bare denial was all that was necessary, for well he
knew that no human eye had seen that encounter by the verge of Acton
Chine, in England.
Then there was a memory of Ethel's loathing attitude and averted
glance lingering like a barbed arrow in his heart.
"Yes," said he, aloud, "I feel the time at hand when I may requite
hate with deeper hate."
"_Buenos noches, mi hombre de nada_," ("Good night, my rascal, or man
of nothing") said a voice in his ear, and, starting from his reverie,
he found himself confronted by the tall and muscular figure of Pedro
Barradas.
It was night now, and the candle flickered dimly in the lantern of
perforated tin, which swung from a beam above, and its downward rays
fell on the dark face and picturesque figure of the South American
seaman, with his crisp locks and coal-black beard, his tawny ears, in
each of which a silver ring was glittering, his loose shirt of dark
blue woollen, open at his breast, on which a cross was tattooed, and
girt at the waist by a Spanish scarlet sash, in which his Albacete
knife was stuck.
A fierce and malicious grin pervaded his sombre features--such a grin
as one might imagine in the face of a laughing fiend--as he surveyed
the crushed and miserable Hawkshaw, who, being quite unarmed, was not
without emotions of terror and alarm.
"You scurvy _ladrone_," said Pedro, grinding his strong white teeth,
"when I remember that evening in the Barranca Secca, between Xalappa
and the Puebla de Perote, and the use you made of your lasso, I
wonder what devil prevents me from putting my knife into you."
Hawkshaw started back, and glanced hopelessly about for a weapon.
Pedro laughed hoarsely; but his merriment did not allay the alarm of
Hawkshaw, who knew that such men as he could jest with their victim
while the knife was piercing his heart.
"So the air of the cabin has not agreed with you, eh? Well, I
daresay you have been worse lodged and fixed in Texas, where some of
the huts are no better than a _retranche_; but I think you had better
come forward and hitch in with us."
Hawkshaw still glanced uneasily about him.
"Demonio! why don't you speak, and be d----d to you?" roared Pedro,
losing his patience, which was never at any time a very extensive
commodity. "Have you lost your lying tongue as well as your wits?"
"No, Pedro Barradas, I have lost neither."
"How long it is since I have heard my name on your tongue,
_companero_; not since we were diggers together on the banks of the
Feather River. Speak out--_presto_!"
"What do you want with me, or require of me?"
"I am exceedingly anxious to ascertain something of which the crew
have been kept in ignorance for some time past."
"Something--from me?" asked Hawkshaw, with surprise.
"Yes."
"You mean the progress and working of the vessel?"
"Precisely so; her whereabouts upon the sea."
"How should I know?"
"How you should or should not is nothing to me; but, _presto_, no
equivocation," said Pedro, placing his right hand on the haft of his
knife.
"Then, for the soul of me, I cannot tell you," replied Hawkshaw, with
great earnestness.
"You must have heard it mentioned, casually or otherwise, in the
cabin. The latitude and longitude, I mean."
"If so, may I die if I can remember them now."
Pedro's eyes began to gleam dangerously; but he changed his tactics,
and asked:
"What does the captain mean to do with you?"
"Do with me?" stammered Hawkshaw.
"Yes, _santos_! I spoke plain enough."
"But I do not understand," said Hawkshaw, evasively.
"Must I speak more plainly?"
"If you please."
"How cursedly polite we are," sneered Pedro. "Well, most illustrious
Senor Caballero, does he mean to maroon you, or hang you?"
"Neither; and in either case it is not probable he would consult you."
"Well, _companero_, perhaps he will land you at El Cabo de Bueno
Esparanza?" said Pedro, with more suavity.
"We are not to touch at the Cape," was the unwary reply.
"Not to touch at the Cape?" repeated Pedro, so loudly that he might
have been heard in the cabin.
"No."
"Why."
"Simply because I have been given to understand that we are past it."
"_Por vida del demonio_! Past it, say you?" exclaimed Pedro, as if
communing with himself.
"One thing, at least, is certain. We are not, I am sorry to say, to
touch at the Cape."
"And who told you this?"
"The captain himself."
Pedro uttered a tremendous Spanish oath, expressive of extreme
astonishment and satisfaction.
"So--so this cunning old Englander has been keeping us all in the
dark as to where we are?"
"Exactly."
"But wherefore?"
"That I cannot say," said Hawkshaw, evasively.
"_Morte de Dios_! does he suspect?--does he smell at a rat!"
exclaimed the Spaniard, with a sudden rage; but Hawkshaw remained
silent. "We must be somewhere off the coast of La Tierra de Natal,
and if so, by the ship's steering to-day, the mouth of the Mozambique
Channel should be upon our weather-bow; yet how far distant, none but
the captain and his mates can say," continued Pedro, as if in
communion with himself; but he was wrong in his supposition, for the
ship, at the time he spoke, was about a hundred miles to the
southward of Algoa Bay, which opens between Cape Recife and Cape
Padrone in southern Africa.
"Listen to me," said Pedro, suddenly, with a savage glare in his
black eyes, a low and husky tone in his deep, sonorous voice, his
right hand on the haft of his knife, and his left planted on
Hawkshaw's shoulder with the grasp of a vice. "We mean to take this
ship, and run her on our own account; but as four new hands have been
added to the officers, will you join us? It is a fair offer--your
only chance of vengeance, too: for, ashore, you will not be worth a
rotten castano."
"Well--well--I am with you," said Hawkshaw, in a low and husky voice.
"_Bueno!_ we should fight for the ship whether you were with us or
not. Your hand on it, mate! But first, what terms do you want?"
"My life, in the first place, to be respected by all, and to be set
ashore on the first land we see, as I am not a seaman."
"The _first_ land may be a sea-weedy rock, at the mouth of the
Mozambique," said Pedro, with a diabolical grin, as it suggested a
new idea of cruelty. "Your share of plunder?"
"I seek no plunder. I seek but revenge and liberty."
"Your hand, then; and let us forget all about the Barranca Secca."
Pedro grasped in his strong, hard hand the shrinking fingers of
Hawkshaw, thinking the while;
"This ship once ours, I shall soon make short work of it with _you_,
my fine fellow!" Grinding his teeth, he added aloud, "If you betray
us, woe to you."
"I am pledged," said Hawkshaw, in a voice like a groan.
"The cargo is valuable, so we shall go in for a good stroke of
business together."
"When--when do you make the attempt?"
"To-morrow night, or the next, at latest."
"I shall be ready."
"Then to-morrow evening at four bells, in the second dog-watch, be in
the forecastle bunks, and you will learn all. Till then, companero,
be silent, and _remember_!"
With another significant touch of his knife-handle, Pedro retired,
leaving Hawkshaw in a very unenviable state of mind. As a bold and
reckless ruffian, the Spanish American valued him little as an ally;
but the chief object of his visit had been attained--information that
the ship, instead of being hauled up for Table Bay, was _past_ it.
CHAPTER XXII.
FOUR BELLS IN THE DOG-WATCH.
All the next day there blew a gale, and Captain Phillips, anxious to
make the most of it, as the wind was fair, squared his yards, with
all that he dared to spread upon them. So sharp was the aforesaid
gale, that on a taut bowline, no vessel could have shown more than a
single sail, perhaps; but the _Hermione_ tore on before the hurrying
blast, with her fore and main courses bellying out before it, and her
three topsails set with a single reef in each.
Ere long, Captain Phillips was heard to shout:
"Away aloft, men--shake the reefs out of the topsails--masthead the
yards."
Cheerfully enough the watch sprang aloft and obeyed the order. And
now the foam flew in white sheets over her sharp bows, rolling aft to
the break of the quarter-deck, from whence it surged forward again,
and gurgled through the scuppers on each side alternately.
Astern a tremendous sea kept rolling after her, for waves and wind
and all were with her now, and she sped before them at the rate of
eleven knots an hour; thus it required all the strength of Pedro
Barradas and of Noah Gawthrop, who volunteered for it, to hold the
wheel, and steer her steadily.
Inspirited by the speed with which his brave ship tore along through
foam and spray, Captain Phillips walked briskly to and fro, with his
hands thrust into the pockets of his glazed storm-jacket, a
gutta-percha speaking-trumpet under one arm, and his jolly red face
shining with pleasure and drops of spray, as he glanced alternately
aloft, over the quarter, or at Mr. Quail, who smiled approvingly.
"Hurrah, old ship!" said he; "now she goes through it! now she walks
along with a will. She smells the Mauritius already, I think."
"The Bird Islands, or the Mozambique, more likely," muttered Pedro to
Noah.
"What the devil have we to do with either one or the other?" asked
Noah, with sulky suspicion.
"There she goes!" continued the captain; "and on she shall crack as
long as her sticks hold together. Mr. Quail, get preventer-braces
reeved; ship tackles on the backstays, haul all taut, and belay."
All day the gale held on thus, and about nightfall, when it began to
abate into a steady breeze, in which the swinging booms of the lower
studding-sails dipped at times like birds' wings in the brine, the
_Hermione_ must have run more than 120 miles, and she was about that
distance off the most southern portion of the coast of Natal.
How often had Captain Phillips and Mr. Basset wished to be fairly
round the Cape of Good Hope--to have doubled it, though it was far
away from dear old England; yet it was a necessary feature or point
to be achieved in the voyage. They were fairly round the great Cape
of Storms now, and the vessel's course was east and northerly, with a
calm sea and a fair wind.
Every one should have been in the highest spirits; but, save Ethel
and Rose, Morley and his three companions, all were cloudy, anxious,
and dull; for Captain Phillips, his officers, and Mr. Basset felt
themselves still menaced by secret dangers.
During the most of this day Morley had remained below with Ethel.
Rose was working beads on a cigar-case for the doctor, and Tom
Bartelot, with Morrison, remained by choice on deck.
"Now that we can be of service, Captain Phillips," said Tom, "we must
be allowed to take our turn of duty. I know that sick folks are soon
deemed little better than skulkers aboard ship."
"How so?"
"When one has to take a fellow's trick at the helm, another his
look-out aloft, or out upon the booms, a third his watch, and a
fourth something else, they soon weary of him."
"True," replied Captain Phillips, in a low voice, as they drew near
the break of the deck, and beyond ear-shot of that tall son of
Columbia, Mr. William Badger, who was at the wheel, with his very
long legs, half-cased in very short trousers, placed very far apart;
"but your arrival on board, if a lucky circumstance for you all, has
been rather a godsend to me."
"Indeed! How? The ship doesn't look short-handed."
"Ah! here comes Mr. Ashton; and please call your mate here. I have
something to say to you all."
Tom beckoned Morrison, who had been busy coiling and belaying some of
the running rigging, for the crew had become exceedingly untidy and
neglectful.
Badger's keen eyes peered from under his beetling brows, as if he
strove to see, what he could not overhear, the conversation that
ensued, when Captain Phillips detailed the secret state of his crew,
and the daring project which the doctor had heard so freely canvassed
in the forecastle.
Bartelot and Morrison heard the honest captain's narrative with
astonishment and indignation, but Morley with a terror and agony very
much akin to Mr. Basset's, under the same circumstances.
"In such a state of matters, why did you not haul up for Table Bay,
where some ships of war are sure to be?" asked Bartelot.
"Such was my intention; but the same hurricane that destroyed your
ship drove mine too far to the southward. That circumstance made us
the means of saving you; but I lost thereby a chance of thinning out,
or altogether dispersing the crew, and shipping another."
"Aye, aye," observed Morrison; "what between crews of Lascars and
coloured men, Chinese junks and piratical Bornese boats, there are
many craft disappear in these seas, and at Lloyd's the typhoons are
held responsible for all."
"If that fellow who is at the wheel, and two who are named Barradas,
were quietly overboard, I could manage the rest, I think."
"Barradas! are they Spaniards?" asked Tom.
"Spanish South Americans--two of that bad lot who are so often to be
seen loafing about the Liverpool docks."
"Troublesome hands always."
"And these two are among the worst--the very worst. They were chums
of that fellow Hawkshaw in Texas and Mexico, at the gold diggings,
and elsewhere, it would appear. They are two brothers, named Pedro
and Zuares--at heart, pirates both."
"Barradas!" said Morley, striving to remember; "that name seems
familiar to me."
"Have you forgotten the name of the old hermit--the 'darvish,' as
Noah called him--whom we buried on the island, and whose papers I
read to you?" asked Morrison.
"Don Pedro Zuares de Barradas," said Bartelot.
"I remember now. I have his Spanish cross below," said Morley.
"Good Heavens! if these should be his sons! The names are the same.
How singular!"
"And they were comrades of Hawkshaw, you say, Captain Phillips?"
"Comrades, or shipmates, or something--nothing good, you may be
assured."
And now Morley, just as Dr. Heriot joined them, recalled Hawkshaw's
strange story of how the one named Zuares committed--unwittingly,
however--the awful crime of matricide, in the Barranca Secca--that
savage story which he related on a summer evening in Acton Chase, to
the Bassets and Pages; and now, by a strange fatality, their lot was
all cast together within the narrow compass of a single ship, upon
the wide and lonely sea.
"These are most calamitous tidings," said Morley, in a low and
troubled voice, as he passed his arm through Heriot's, and drew him
aside; "love, they say, laughs at danger; but here, Dr. Heriot, love
may weep," he added, almost with a groan.
"Hang it, man, call me Heriot--Leslie Heriot, or whatever you like;
but drop the doctor, it sounds so precious stiff, especially
when--when we both love these two girls."
"Well," said Morley, who, as an Englishman, had his local or national
prejudices, but meant to be complimentary, "for a Scotchman, you are
a nice fellow, Heriot; but--but Ethel and Rose, what are we to do
now?"
"Fight to the last gasp for them, that is all," replied Heriot,
stoutly.
While they were conversing thus, Noah Gawthrop approached Captain
Bartelot, and, in his own fashion, began to state that he had heard
some strange hints dropped by the watch at night, by others that
lounged about the windlass-bitts and forecastle; that some of the
crew had been whetting their knives on the carpenter's grindstone,
that all were on the alert, and were, he added, "sartainly up to
summut that looked like squalls, or mischief."
As an old man-o'-war's man, Noah knew well how unpleasant was the
reputation of being a tale-bearer, and that, if it was bad ashore, it
was deemed ten times worse at sea; but in the _Aurora_ he had
acquired certain ideas of discipline which had never left him, so he
considered that he was only doing his duty in this matter.
"What do you mean to do, your honour?" he asked of Captain Phillips,
in a husky whisper.
Phillips gave him a grim smile, and showed the butt of a revolver in
his breast-pocket.
"Oh, the poor girls below," said Morley.
"I have perilled my life many times, young gentleman," said
Phillips--"many times on land, but oftener still on the great highway
of waters, and, though scared a bit, I ain't going to be frightened
now; and, believe me, my ship shall not be taken without a scrimmage.
Let these mutinous curs come on and do their worst, I'm ready for
them--life for life, and man to man."
"Hooray, and the _Haurora_ for ever. Beat to quarters--them's my
sentiments," said Noah, with a voice so loud that long Badger, at the
wheel, craned his scraggy neck to listen, and opened his eyes and
ears very wide indeed. "D----n their limbs! I hopes to see 'em all
with their ears nailed to the mainmast, and here's the fist as will
handle the hammer and nails."
As he made this unwise exclamation, he stepped aft, to relieve Badger
at the wheel, and that ungainly personage, avoiding the group who
were at the gangway, passed forward to the forecastle, where he at
once informed his colleagues that he "rayther reckoned that old
man-o'-war shark had blowed the whole affair upon them."
Deeply-muttered oaths and vows of vengeance on poor old Noah were the
immediate result.
"_Por mi honor!_" exclaimed Pedro, who was polishing the blade of his
knife on the sole of his shoe; "so, so, this is what old
sticking-plaster is up to--eh?"
"In course, my Spanish gamecock."
"_El espio y picaro!_ (spy and scoundrel)," said Pedro, grinding his
teeth.
"The old corksucker!" growled the rest, using in this the most
opprobrious epithet known at sea.
"He's a old man-o'-war's man, and, I reckon, has got notions o'
discipline, doffing his hat to the quarter-deck, and other darned
nonsense whipped into him, nigger fashion, by the boatswain's cat.
To try gettin' over such fellows is summut like reefing of a
stun'sail, or anythin' else that's next to useless."
Having delivered himself of this aphorism, Badger proceeded to "darn"
sundry parts of Noah's person, such as his eyes and limbs, and by the
unanimous vote of all he was consigned to very warm latitudes indeed.
Amid this, the ship's bell struck. It was the appointed time--four
bells in the second dog-watch--and then, pale as a spectre, or
looking like an evil spirit whom the sound had summoned--Cramply
Hawkshaw descended through the scuttle into the little apartment, or
fore-cabin, a close and squalid den, where his appearance was greeted
with shouts of ironical welcome and applause, in which the watch on
deck joined.
We have already detailed a scene in this unpleasant quarter of the
ship; but have little desire to rehearse another, and so shall be
brief.
With a mocking grimace on his moustached lip, and a ferocious gleam
in his wild black eyes, Pedro presented Hawkshaw to the crew as a new
_companero amigo_--associate and friend.
"Hitch in, mates--make room for the capting," said Badger, drawing in
his long, lean, and misshapen legs. "So having 'ad a spell in limbo
aft, you're bound for the bunks forward, eh? Come, Pedro, prodooce
the dev'l's bones--let him have a shy with the ivories. I reckon
he's got an eye on the gals aft, as well as ourselves; and I say,
capting--Jeerusalem! ain't the black eyes o' that oldest gal regular
Broadway shiners!"
In his misery and rage, Hawkshaw had slunk forward, and joined the
crew with two ideas uppermost in his mind: that he would yet revenge
himself on Morley Ashton, and might also have the haughty Ethel at
his mercy--that she yet might be his, and his only, despite fate,
fortune, and friends, and despite her own aversion for him.
But when he found himself among this crew of desperadoes, whose
obscene lips bandied about the names of those so pure and gentle,
fair and tender, as Ethel and Rose Basset, the old times of Laurel
Lodge came to memory, and though bad, hardened, and desperate,
Hawkshaw felt his soul die within him.
But it was too late for receding now!
Criminal though he was, to find himself the chosen comrade and
companion of these wretches, filled up the full measure of his
misery; but no sympathy can be wasted on him, when we remember the
crimes of which he had been guilty, and the keen suffering he had
caused to Ethel, to Morley, and to others.
In mockery, and in a pretended spirit of good fellowship, Pedro's
loaded _dados_ were produced from his sea-chest, and they proceeded
again to cast lots for wives among the women in the cabin, amid roars
of laughter, cheers, and other noises, while, to enhance the general
din, Mr. Badger smashed the mess-beef kid, dashed the butter gallipot
to pieces, and danced a hornpipe on the tin bread-barge.
This noisy laughter was heard distinctly in the cabin.
"Surely that sounds jolly and well," said Tom Bartelot, as the party
from the deck entered it; "fellows who laugh so loudly cannot mean
much mischief."
"Ah, you don't know them," said Captain Phillips, in a low voice.
"Mischief?" said Ethel, looking up inquiringly.
"What, is it possible that you don't know?" Morley was beginning,
when Mr. Basset placed a finger on his lip warningly.
Those extremely hilarious sounds in the forepart of the ship were
simply caused by the lots for sweethearts or wives being cast anew.
Ethel had fallen to Pedro Barradas, thanks to his
peculiarly-constructed dice; Rose fell to the share of Bill Badger;
and Nance Folgate, the old nurse, to Hawkshaw; and hence the yells
and screams of laughter that ascended from the fore-scuttle, and rang
upon the still and starlight night.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE CRISIS AT LAST.
On the morrow, a gale like that we have described carried the ship
still farther on her course; but again, towards evening, the sea and
wind went down together, and a calm and lovely night stole over the
world of waters.
Morley had intended to speak to the two Barradas about what he
suspected--his knowledge of their secret history. Had he found an
opportunity for doing so, much evil would, perhaps, have been
averted, as he might have exercised a little influence over them; but
one time they were aloft in the rigging, at another, tarring down the
backstays, clapping on chafing gear, or otherwise occupied most of
the day, as they now began to feel a _personal interest_ in the ship;
so no opportunity occurred, and the fatal evening of the intended
mutiny crept on.
And, notwithstanding that he was a quiet and peaceable man, and
possessed of much of the caution usually attributed to his
countrymen, matters were precipitately brought to a crisis by
Morrison, Tom Bartelot's Scotch mate, as we shall soon have occasion
to show.
On this night our old friend was at the wheel, as a volunteer; and,
as the atmosphere was singularly calm, Morley and Ethel, Rose and
Heriot, were on deck, sometimes seated in pairs, conversing in low
and confidential tones, or promenading, arm-in-arm, between the break
of the deck and the taffrail.
Mr. Basset and the captain were smoking near the companion-hatch, Mr.
Quail had turned in below, and the second mate, Foster, had charge of
the ship, whose lofty spread of snow-white canvas shimmered with a
weird effect in the light of the rising moon, which heaved up at the
horizon, the size of three European moons--sublime and vast--to shed
a blaze of silver radiance far across the sea.
Noah's hints had already made Captain Phillips take in his
studding-sails and royals, so the ship was now running snugly and
easily, under the fore and main-course, topgallant-sails, jib and
spanker.
Ethel sat silently, with her hands clasped on Morley's left arm, for
the moonlight on the water, the stars above, and his familiar voice,
made her think of home, and the beautiful garden at Laurel Lodge,
with its ribbon-borders of pinks, mignonette, and scarlet geraniums;
its roseries, its gigantic sweet peas, her sister's boasted azaleas,
which Hawkshaw had ridiculed in an evil hour; its avenues of laurels
and stately old sycamores.
She now drew forth her mother's miniature, which she wore in her
breast, at the end of a slender gold chain. It had been taken in
that dear mother's youth, when she closely resembled Ethel herself.
Who that surveyed that soft, bright, smiling face, could realise the
idea that it was the image of one who had long been dead, and had
passed away.
So, as Ethel gazed upon it, her mother's figure, expression of face,
and tone of voice, the embodiment of that gentle friend and loving
mentor, all a mother should be, "the best and most beautiful of
earth's creatures," rose to memory, strangely mingled with
recollections of her death and of her funeral, on a sunny day, in
peaceful Acton churchyard, while the familiar bell tolled solemnly in
the old grey Norman tower, and when the turf looked so green, the
fresh earth so brown, and that awful and mysterious grave, as it
yawned beneath the old yew tree, so deep, so terrible!
Then there was the reverend rector, her father's dearest friend,
reading the beautiful and impressive service for the faithful
departed, while his voice faltered and his eyes glistened. It was
the last day of an English autumn, when the leaves of the tall oaks
in the Chase, and the foliage of every coppice, were brown and crisp,
and when all the world seemed hushed and still; when even the village
urchins who clambered on the churchyard wall were mute, and sat
uncovered, and no sound stirred the air but the rector's voice, and
the solemn bell that boomed in the time-worn tower, and shook its ivy
leaves.
So all that sad and mournful day came vividly back and unbidden to
memory now.
"Mamma, dear, dear mamma! she did so love you, Morley!" said Ethel,
as she closed the miniature, and placed it tenderly in her bosom.
Inspired by livelier thoughts on the other side of the quarter-deck,
merry Rose Basset and the doctor were leaning over the bulwarks, and
watching the luminous animacula that gleamed in the passing waves.
In the second chapter of our history, we have related how Mr. Basset
had considered the early engagement between Morley Ashton and Ethel
the mere fancy of a boy and girl--a fancy which separation, or the
spirit of change, might cause to wear away and be forgotten.
But now, by his most providential restoration, by the strength of
their mutual regard, by what the poor fellow had undergone; by what
Ethel, too, had suffered, and, more than all, by the necessity for
securing her future happiness, he felt himself bound to do the utmost
in his power to advance Morley's interests, when they all reached
their new home in the Mauritius, and a reiterated promise to this
effect had made the young pair supremely happy.
Rose and the doctor were the next consideration; what was to be done
with them?
The excitement consequent to recent events; the expected outbreak
among the crew; the discovery of the wreck, its occupants, and their
story, together with Hawkshaw's villainy, had so fully occupied the
attention of all on board, that Heriot had scarcely found an
opportunity for broaching a matter, which Captain Phillips's jokes
had quite prepared our friend, the judge, to have laid before him,
for his earnest consideration and kindly sympathy--neither of which
he had quite made up his mind to accord; but Rose had always flirted
with some one; and when two favourable occasions came to pass, Heriot
was dissuaded by her thoughtlessly saying:
"Now, don't bother yet, my dear old darling Leslie," for this was her
unromantic style ("a jolly one," the doctor thought it) of addressing
him.
Mr. Basset would have been blind indeed, had he not seen the growing
intimacy which existed between them; but he had no idea that matters
had proceeded the length of interchanged promises. Neither did he
observe the ring which Rose now wore on her engaged-finger--to wit
(for the information of the uninitiated), the third of the right
hand; and to use a hackneyed phrase, "as fairy" a finger as ever
rejoiced in that pleasant decoration, for among Rose's chief beauties
were her hands, plump, white, and tiny.
Recent events, we have said, prevented explanations, or any account
of what the doctor's prospects were.
"Not much, they are, certainly, dear, dear Rose," whispered Heriot,
as they sat together in the moonlight, while the ship still sped
before the wind, with all the reefs out of her topsails. "I have,
one way and another, but 100_l._ a year at present. Had I more, I
would have sought out a snug practice at home, and not roved about as
the surgeon of a sea-going merchantman."
"Then you would not have met me, sir," said Rose, with waggish
asperity.
"But I have an uncle, a jolly old fellow, who loves me well, for my
mother was his only sister; and he loves me for that, perhaps, rather
than any merits of my own."
"My poor modest Leslie! well--and this uncle?"
"When he dies--distant may the day be when he does so!--I shall come
into 400_l._ per annum more. If at the Isle of France, I could
battle the watch----"
"Battle what?"
"Oh, it is an old college phrase; I mean, fight my way into a
practice somehow. With you to cheer me on, we should do very well.
Then, an M.D., to get a practice, must have a wife."
"Why?"
"What is the difference between a doctor and a student? 'There is
but a degree between them,' says some one; but until the student has
the magical letters M.D. added to his name, he is nothing, and even
then he will never get the _passepartout_ to private houses, unless
he has a wife; and where could I find one dearer, sweeter, more
playful and joyous, more charming than----"
"Me, you would say?"
"Yes."
Then here, as no one was looking, there followed a sound which made
honest Morrison, who was at the wheel, "prick up his ears," and laugh
quietly to himself in the moonlight.
A ship, of course, does not offer the lover-like facilities of shady
lanes, green thickets, rosy bowers, or flowery garden walks; but it
produces a thousand occasions for polite attention, amidst its
rolling, tumbling, and pitching about, its extreme discomfort and
peculiarity, which are not given by the solid and immovable earth,
and which the fair dwellers thereon do not require; but it is,
nevertheless, a very awkward place for indulging in little bits of
osculation--a phrase for which I refer my fair reader to her
dictionary, if she knows it not.
All as yet was quiet in the _Hermione_.
The embers of discord were still smouldering amid the crew, and the
brave ship flew steadily over the shiny waters of the moonlit sea,
her ghostly shadow falling far across them.
Inspired by the calm and beauty of the night, Morrison, as he leaned
thoughtfully over the wheel, his left hand grasping an upper spoke,
and his right hand a lower one, thinking, perhaps, of his present
shattered prospects, without ship or funds, his distant home, and his
mother's cottage by the Dee, was singing to himself in a low and
plaintive voice.
Ethel looked up and listened, though she scarcely knew the language
in which he sang--a portion of a sweet little song (by some local
poet), and which he recalled, as we do now, from memory, though
perhaps he may have heard it from his mother, to whom this brave and
honest fellow was attached, with a devotion that was almost childish.
"The tear dims my e'e
As I look to heaven hie,
And sigh to be free
Frae want and frae wae;
But I dinna see the road,
For between me and my God
A darkness has come doon,
Like the mist on the brae.
"The nicht is wearin' past,
The mist is fleein' fast,
And heaven is bricht at last
To the closin' e'e;
In the hollow o' the hill,
The weary feet are still,
And the weary heart is hame
To its ain countrie."
At that moment the ship's bell clanged.
"Stand by to heave the log--relieve the wheel," cried Mr. Foster.
After considerable delay Badger, the Yankee, came slowly shambling
aft, to "take his trick" at the helm, and at the same time the whole
crew came scrambling noisily up the fore-scuttle, where the watch on
deck joined them, and they gathered in a group about the
windlass-bitts.
Captain Phillips, Mr. Basset, and Tom Bartelot, exchanged glances of
intelligence and inquiry, while the second named, inspired by some
miserable foreboding, grew deadly pale.
"You have not hurried yourself, mate," said Morrison.
"No; didn't intend to, I reckon," drawled the Yankee, in his nasal
twang.
"Why did you not come aft the moment the bell struck?"
"Now, stranger," said Badger, in a tone of mock expostulation, "d'ye
wish your few brains blowed out with the cook's bellows, or not, that
you asks questions or gives orders here?"
"Take the wheel, and take it in silence," said Morrison, haughtily
and sternly; for, although no mate on board the _Hermione_, he still
felt the habit of authority strong within him.
"I knowed a man at Cape Cod, in the state of Massachusetts,"
continued Badger, still delaying, and speaking slowly through his
long nose; "a Scotchman he was, Mr. Morrison, and the very moral o'
you, with a hook nose and chin, that 'ad hold a ginger-nut between
'em, who fed sea-gulls with iron filings, and sold their wings for
steel pens. A 'cute crittur! But, as I said, he was called a
Scotchman, though I calc'lates he was a Yankee Jew of Hirish
parentage."
"If you don't take the wheel, I'll show you the foretop with a
vengeance, my fine fellow," said Morrison, who could stand anything
but sneers at his country.
"You're riled a bit, you air, and your monkey's getting up. You've
been too well fed, mate," drawled Badger. "I reckons that at home,
in your own little clearin' of a country, you fed upon fir shavings
and cold water. As for decent junk, reg'lar old hoss, and plum-duff,
I calc'late you never heerd on 'em afore. Now, in this here craft,
as the junk's atrowcious, so that even an 'ungry Scotchman or a blue
shark wouldn't look at it, we mean to have a blow-out to-night in the
cabin, and on the best in the steward's locker too."
At that moment Mr. Foster, who, with Joe, had been heaving the
log-line, on hearing words, came aft, and took the wheel from the
hands of Morrison, who was trembling with suppressed passion.
"Go forward, you rascally carrion," said the Scotchman, "or, by the
heavens above us, I soon will make blue sharks' meat of you."
Badger drew his knife, which gleamed in the moonlight, but at the
same instant he was laid sprawling on the deck by a blow from the
butt-end of a revolver with which Captain Phillips had armed
Morrison, and which the latter swung at the full length of his arm
and with no unsparing hand.
The cry of rage uttered by Badger was answered by a yell from the
forecastle, and all the crew came rushing aft, armed with knives,
capstan-bars, and some with pistols, which they had hitherto secreted
in their sea-chests.
"Below, ladies, below--into the cabin, and barricade the door; quick,
quick!" cried Captain Phillips, as Ethel and Rose, to their
astonishment and terror, were hurried, almost thrust down, the
companion-stair.
Then several pistol-shots were exchanged, and a furious struggle
instantly took place on deck.
CHAPTER XXIV.
HOW THE SHIP BROACHED TO.
At the time of this outbreak the _Hermione_ was, as we have stated,
somewhere about 100 miles off the mouth of Algoa Bay, and not, as
Pedro had calculated, near the entrance of the Mozambique Channel.
Hurried, actually thrust into the cabin by the hands of Morley
Ashton, Dr. Heriot, and others, Ethel and Rose Basset's terror and
astonishment may be imagined; and greatly were these emotions
increased by the sounds they heard on deck--the sudden uproar, the
stamping of feet, as of men engaged in a deadly struggle, the oaths,
imprecations, and occasional discharge of pistols.
If Captain Phillips and his friends were disagreeably surprised to
find that the crew possessed some four or five old ship pistols,
which they had hitherto kept secretly in their sea-chests, they, on
the other hand, were much more disappointed on discovering that the
officers and passengers were fully prepared for them--alike
forewarned and forearmed; and the sudden appearance of their pistols
and revolvers, as shot after shot flashed from them in the clear
tropical moonlight, baffled the first rush aft of Pedro and his
brother, for most of the crew, following Hawkshaw's prudent example,
suddenly retreated to the forecastle, their own peculiar region and
quarters.
A ball from Pedro's pistol found a harmless victim, for he shot dead
poor Joe the steward. But at the same moment a ball from Heriot's
revolver grazed the assassin's left ear, tearing a ring out of it,
and as he rushed back with a bewildered air, at first believing
himself to be shot through the head, Morrison followed him past the
long-boat, showering, with a capstan-bar, such blows upon him as
would have prostrated any other man than Barradas, who turned twice
upon his pursuer, to whom he opposed in vain his clubbed pistol and
the blade of his Albacete knife.
Poor Mr. Foster, who, as related, had taken the wheel from Morrison,
was now assailed by Badger, the long Yankee, who had gathered himself
up from the deck, where he had lain sprawling.
"Villain!" exclaimed Foster, as he clung to the spokes of the wheel,
which he dared not relinquish lest the ship should bring to by the
lee, and as he glanced the while with irrepressible agitation at the
upheld knife of the wretch who had grasped his collar, and held it at
the full length of his long, lean, muscular left arm. "Villain,
would you lift your knife to me?"
"Ah, you 'tarnal Britisher, I would choke you like a weasel," hissed
the Yankee through his yellow teeth.
"Do be quiet, Badger," urged Foster, as he thought of his poor wife
and little ones asleep in their beds at home. "Have you no pity--no
fear?"
"Nayther, I reckon," snivelled the Yankee.
"No conscience?" asked Foster, as he felt the grasp tightening on his
collar.
"Conscience be d----! as we say in Californy. I left my blessed
conscience at Cape Horn long ago. Do you understand that?" said
Badger, ferociously.
Down came the threatening knife, flashing in the moonshine. Foster
quitted the wheel and leaped aside, leaving the collar of his jacket
in Badger's hand; but the point of the blade gave him a severe slash
on the right shoulder.
Filled with rage and fear, the second mate broke away, and plunged
down the companion-stair into the steerage in search of a loaded
weapon. Tom Bartelot and Mr. Basset followed him, on the same
errand, and the crew, believing that a fight had begun, once more
made a furious rush aft, and thus, being now minus five of their
number, the captain, with Morley, Heriot, and Noah Gawthrop, found
themselves driven, under a shower of blows and missiles, past the
break of the quarter-deck, and, ultimately, down below, where they
all fell in a heap upon Mr. Quail, who had turned out, half dressed,
on hearing the row on deck.
The last to effect a retreat was Morrison, who had emptied the six
barrels of his revolver without hitting anyone, but having a
capstan-bar, a weapon to which he was more accustomed, he gave way,
step by step, with his face to the foe; but ultimately he was beaten
down the companion-stair, covered with blood, which flowed from a
wound on his right temple.
Fighting inch by inch, there is little doubt that, at this crisis,
the crew might have forced an entrance to the cabin, especially if
some had entered by the skylight; but now a yell burst from them,
followed by a tremendous crash, and the sound as of a vast ruin
descending on the deck.
On Foster abandoning the helm, the ship, which had been running with
a spanking breeze upon her starboard quarter, broached to; by
swinging round, all her sails were taken aback upon the weather-side,
the sudden strain was more than her spars could bear, and the fall of
a maintopmast, which had been sprung (_i.e._, split) in a recent
gale, brought down the fore and mizzen, with all their yards and
hamper, clean off at the cap of each; and thus, in a moment the
beautiful _Hermione_ was a scene of as great a ruin and disorder
aloft as she was below.
The wilderness of masts, yards, booms, sails, blocks, and gearing
that suddenly descended on their heads somewhat cooled the ardour of
the crew, and severely injured two or three of them; but Pedro, a
thorough seaman, gave instant orders to cut, clear away, and coil up,
while, rushing to the wheel, his powerful hands soon made it revolve;
the _Hermione's_ head fell round, once more the wind came on her
quarter, her fore and main courses, jib, and driver swelled out
before it, and she stood on, but slowly, crippled and shorn of all
her fair proportions.
This unexpected misfortune to the mutineers gave those whom they had
for a time vanquished and driven below time to gather their energies,
to reload their weapons, consider their position and resources, and
to put in requisition those plans originally formed for the defence
of the cabin, their stronghold, and chiefly of the two Misses Basset.
The huge trunk, filled with Mr. Basset's law books (which fortunately
came too late on board to be shot with other lumber into the hold)
was slued round, and jammed across the cabin-door, which was further
secured by its usual bolts and fastenings.
Heriot's pair of pistols, two revolvers, a double-barrelled
fowling-piece, and a sharp hatchet, were their only weapons, but they
had plenty of ammunition, all made up in cartridges, and so they
resolved to expend it to some purpose.
"My ship! my ship! my poor ship! everything seems to have gone to the
devil aloft," groaned Captain Phillips, in an agony of rage and
mortification.
"Oh, papa--dear papa--what has happened? What means that dreadful
noise on deck?" asked Ethel and Rose together, as they clung to their
bewildered parent, and saw with alarm their companions' blanched,
flushed, and, in some instances, blood-stained faces. Dr. Heriot and
Morley Ashton were both bleeding; the former from a scalp wound, and
the latter from a cut in the lip. "Oh, papa! tell us what all this
means?"
"It means that those infernal villains have risen to murder us all,
ladies; but don't be alarmed for all that," said Captain Phillips, as
he reloaded his revolver, while a horrible hurly-burly was heard on
deck, where the crew, under the orders of Barradas the elder, were
cutting away or securing so much of the rigging and spars as might be
useful to them, even to bringing on board the jib-boom, which had
been snapped off at the cap, and hung in the guys at the end of the
whiskers, with the sail drooping in the water; and all the while they
worked amid a storm of oaths, imprecations, and threats.
Among other things cast adrift was the body of poor Joe, whose
pockets were soon investigated--his pipe, knife, tobacco-box, and a
few coppers appropriated by Messrs. Sharkey and Bolter--after which
they cast him over to leeward with as much indifference as if he had
been a dead gull or bit of "old horse" (_i.e._, mouldy junk).
Meanwhile, overcome with horror and anxiety for the probable future
of his two daughters, poor Mr. Basset was completely bewildered, and,
for a time, as Captain Phillips said, "had no more pith in him than
an empty sack." Reclined on the stern-locker, he pressed his
daughters to his breast, keeping, as if for protection, an arm round
each, and he exclaimed more than once:
"Oh God! most merciful of all who show mercy, protect my poor girls."
"He has committed their protection to you, sir," said Tom Bartelot,
rather impatiently; "only show a little pluck, like the rest of us,
and we shall weather these villains yet--aye, work them to an oil, if
they don't fire or sink the ship."
"Oh, what new--what sudden horror is this?" exclaimed Ethel, wringing
her hands, and then clasping them over her temples, while she turned
her flashing eyes on each in succession.
"No sudden 'orror at all, marm," said Noah Gawthrop, as he tightened
his waist-belt, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and looked
everywhere about to spit, but, being in the cabin, restrained the
impulse; "we've known o' the rig they were goin' to run this long
time past."
"And Hawkshaw?" asked Ethel, shuddering.
"Is a leader among them," replied Morley, applying a handkerchief to
his bleeding lip. "I never had a better opportunity for clearing off
old scores than to-night, but somehow he never----"
"Oh, Morley, dear! leave vengeance to other hands," said Ethel,
imploringly. "Dear, dear papa," she added, laying her pale brow on
Mr. Basset's cheek, "and so it was this knowledge--this horrible
dread hanging over you--that has given such a mournful tenderness to
your voice and manner for some time past."
Her voice, so mellow and thrilling, pierced poor Basset's heart: he
could only answer by his tears.
"Oh, Morley, love!" said Ethel, in a low, beseeching voice, "say
something to comfort poor papa."
But Morley could only press Mr. Basset's hand in silence, for, in
fact, the poor fellow knew not what to say. Rose had tied her little
handkerchief round the doctor's head, and it seemed a more agreeable
remedy than the piece of court-plaster he had hastily stuck on his
scar.
To Ethel the watchful, mysterious, solicitous, and almost sorrowful
regard which her father had so long exhibited towards herself and
Rose was quite accounted for now.
"Oh, my poor papa--my own papa!" she exclaimed, as she threw her arms
round his neck, and nestled with her lovely face close to his, "I
have no fear of death; I would face it courageously--but you, and
Rose, and Morley. Oh, I fear that the blow which kills me may kill
you all, too, you love me so much--so much more than I have deserved,
dear papa!"
"Alas, Ethel! it is not death only that I fear for you, my sweet and
innocent lamb--and Rose----"
"Below there, ahoy!" hailed a hoarse voice down the companion-stair,
after the hurly-burly had somewhat ceased on deck.
"It is the voice of that villain, Sharkey," said Quail.
"The murderer of poor Manfredi," added Dr. Heriot.
"Below there, you swabs and cork-suckers! have you all gone to
sleep?" hailed the squat mutineer.
"Hollo!" responded Noah, "what do you want, gallows-bird?"
"We want the two girls. Give them up, and come on deck. Tumble up,
or it will be the worse for every man jack of you."
"How so, you squab ragamuffin?" asked Captain Phillips.
"We'll drop down the skylight, and make precious short work with you
all," was the hoarse response.
"Come on then, one at a time, or all together--we are ready for you,"
said Captain Phillips.
At the same moment the cover of the skylight was roughly wrenched
off, and the chill night wind poured through the cabin, extinguishing
the lamp.
A noisy and derisive cheer followed.
"Silence fore and aft. _Por vida del demonio guardad vuestra maldita
garulla_ (_i.e._, "Hold your cursed clack"). Ere long I shall let
you know who is captain of the ship now," cried a deep bass voice
there was no mistaking, and the dark visage of Pedro Barradas was
seen looking down, just as Heriot led Ethel and Rose to their cabin,
when he whispered to them to take courage, and closed the door.
"Surrender, and give up your arms, or I shall set fire to the ship,"
added Barradas.
"What will you gain by doing so?" asked Captain Phillips, feeling
with his fingers if the caps on his revolver were all right, and
taking a full sight at Pedro's head, which he could see above the rim
of the skylight.
"Gain? Not much, certainly, unless it be vengeance," replied the
Mexican, hoarsely.
"Vengeance, you miscreant? Of what can you, accuse me? Surely I
never wronged you."
"I have nearly lost an ear by the hand of one among you."
"That infliction you brought upon yourself."
"If you do not surrender in less than twenty minutes, I shall fire
the ship or scuttle her, and then shove off with all the boats,
leaving you to drown like a rat in a trap," continued Pedro.
"Fool, as well as villain, what purpose would that serve, but to
destroy you all? Do you know how far we are from land?" asked the
captain.
"I know that we are off the mouth of the Mozambique, and will soon
make the land by steering nor'-nor'-east," replied the mutineer, with
a grin.
"You are wrong, Pedro Barradas--by Heaven you are! We are only off
the Bay of Algoa."
"Well, if this wind holds good, and we keep the ship under her
courses and lower studding-sails, we will make the channel soon
enough for our purpose. But ha, ha! Senor Capitano, do you hear
that?" he added, as the sound of axes was heard; "we are starting the
main-hatch to get at the bread and spirit room, so while you starve
here, we shall drink and be jolly."
Captain Phillips groaned as he heard those sounds, which indicated a
further destruction of the ship; but, taking a sure aim at Pedro, he
fired! The red flash and sharp report of the pistol were followed by
a yell of rage.
"A miss is as good as a mile," cried Badger, the Yankee; and Pedro,
whose cheek was grazed by the ball, replied by firing into the cabin
a random shot, which lodged in the table; and now, with pistols and
the double-barrelled fowling-piece, there ensued a regular skirmish,
in which our friends, in the dark seclusion of the cabin, had all the
best of it, the mutineers' mode of warfare being simply a waste of
ammunition, as some four or five of them in succession continued to
dart past the open skylight, down which they fired at random.
Too terrified to weep, Ethel and Rose, clasped in each other's arms,
reclined on their knees against the side of their bed, with poor old
nurse Folgate grovelling on the carpet beside them.
Every instant they heard the sharp reports of the pistols, and saw
the explosions flashing through the slits in their cabin-door, and
all unaccustomed to the horrors of such an event, they could scarcely
believe that they were not in a dream.
Who could imagine that such a scene would occur on board of a London
ship? But they knew not the evils that attend a mixed crew.
Ignorant of the chances and casualties of voyaging on the deep, Ethel
and Rose, but particularly the former, was utterly bewildered by this
terrible episode, in which she found herself and friends involved.
Every shot, every sound, made her heart leap for her father and her
lover.
She had pictured to herself how, with Morley by her side, she would
tend for life the declining years of her only and beloved
parent--tend him as her mother would have wished her to do. He, on
the other hand, had hoped to tend, watch, guide, and see her and Rose
far on the chequered highway of life; but now it seemed as if they
were all about to be torn from each other--he to suffer a violent and
cruel death, they dishonour and death together.
Rose! Rose! Poor Ethel's soul shrank within her at this crisis; but
it was more with fear for dear, merry little Rose than for herself.
For some time the exciting skirmish we have described continued,
without anyone being hit, apparently, either above or below, till
Morley felt someone close by utter a low heavy moan, or sigh, and
then fall suddenly and heavily against him.
"Quail--Mr. Quail," he exclaimed, "is this you? Are you hurt--are
you hit?"
It was poor Mr. Quail who, unable to reply, fell on the floor of the
cabin with blood bubbling from his mouth. A lucifer-match was
promptly applied to a candle, a light procured, and the wounded man
was laid on the floor of the captain's state-room, where Dr. Heriot
soon discovered that he was quite dead, being shot in the head by a
common nail, a proof that the ammunition of the enemy above was
running short.
"My God! Poor Quail--his wife and little ones!" exclaimed honest
Captain Phillips, with deep emotion. "Oh, gentlemen, when will these
horrors end?"
A low groan from Mr. Basset alone replied, and the features of the
hapless mate soon grew livid and ghastly in the flickering light of
the candle, as the damps and the pallor of death stole over them
together.
Meanwhile the crash of axes was heard in the hold, where already some
of the mutineers were making their way in search of plunder, through
the cargo, hoping to make a breach in the bulkhead and reach the
store where the ship's provisions and spirits were kept.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE CABIN ATTACKED.
Some of the mutineers now proceeded to throw various missiles, such
as cold shot, ship-buckets, spare or fallen blocks from aloft, the
carpenter's paint-pots, and so forth, into the ship's cabin; but only
in one instance, when Tom Bartelot received a contusion on the
shoulder, from a wooden marline-spike flung at random, did any of
these take effect, as our friends lurked securely, pistol in hand, in
the recesses of the upper stern-lockers, in the berths, and so forth,
but none as yet could foresee where this strife was to end, or who
would first come to terms, before the ship was utterly destroyed, as
it bade fair to be, if this internal war continued.
Now the voice of Barradas was heard, giving orders to cast loose one
of the carronades on the quarter-deck.
"What are they about to do with the carronade?" asked Morley, as he
listened intently.
"Lower it between decks, to fire through the bulkhead," suggested the
old man-o'-war's man, Noah.
"But have they any round shot?" asked Morley.
"We have six rounds for each gun round the coaming of the
main-hatch," said Captain Phillips, with a very dejected air; "and
there are plenty more in the hold. Shot are wanted sometimes in the
Indian seas."
"And the powder?"
"Is all kept in a little magazine near the taffrail--the powder
required for immediate service, I mean."
"The gun is cast loose," said Bartelot; "if Noah's idea be their
game, it is all up with us, as they may bowl us to death without
danger of resistance."
"Unless when they are at work in the hold, we make a sally, regain
possession of the deck, ship on the main-hatch, and smother the whole
brood!" said Phillips, with a more savage emotion than ever before
glowed in his kind and jolly breast.
A few minutes of painful suspense served to show that the intentions
of the mutineers were quite different.
They were heard to break open the powder magazine, and load the
carronade, which, with loud yells, and much vociferation, they urged
forward to the rim of the skylight with such force as nearly to break
the framework to pieces, and over it, by using capstan-bars as
levers, they levelled and depressed the gun, by hoisting up the hind
wheels of the carriage, and driving home quoins under the breach,
till the muzzle was at the angle of forty-five degrees, and pointed
almost towards the bulkhead of the little cabin in which Ethel and
Rose were weeping and praying.
Scarcely a moment was given for question or consideration, ere Quaco,
the black Virginian, came rushing aft from the caboose, with his
sable cheekbones shining, and his yellow eyes aflame, as he
flourished a red-hot poker, which, as an extempore match, he applied
to the touch-hole.
A sudden and blinding flash, with a cloud of suffocating smoke,
filled all the cabin, and there was a report, or concussion, which
made the ship reel to her centre; a hundred splinters seemed to fly
in every direction, but still no personal danger was done, though the
gun had been charged, not with round shot, but with a bag of nails,
nearly all of which crashed through the centre of the mahogany table,
and lodged in the deck below.
It was not until the first blink of dawn that those in the cabin knew
this; their first idea being, that a round shot had been sent through
the vessel's bottom; but, mad and furious though the mutineers were,
there was a method in their proceedings, and to utterly destroy the
ship was no part of their daring plan.
Wailing cries of terror came from the ladies' cabin, and wild and
noisy ones from the old nurse; but no one was hurt there, though all
were nearly stifled by the smoke of the discharge, ere it rose slowly
through the open skylight, and floated away into the still night air.
As the sailors were withdrawing the gun, taking advantage of its
recoil, a volley of pistol-shots from below whistled about them, and
Dr. Heriot, with a steady aim of the fowling-piece, sent a charge of
buck-shot from both barrels into the face and shoulders of one
fellow, who was immediately borne forward to the care of Quaco, who,
greatly to his own delight, and with all the mingled fun and cruelty
peculiar to his dingy race, proceeded to extract them from the
bleeding wretch, more curiously than skilfully, with the prongs of a
carving-fork.
They now lashed the gun to its port again, and retired forward, to
consult probably.
The ship's bell was no longer struck to call the watches, but the man
at the wheel was regularly relieved, and, though sometimes exposed to
shots from the cabin, he was never fired on. Under her courses and
other lower sails, the ship was steered to the north-east, but her
exact course those in the cabin knew not, as the tell-tale compass
had gone to wreck long ago, under the missiles showered so liberally
through the skylight.
By the sounds that came aft from time to time, it was evident that
the crew were eating, drinking, and making merry in the region of the
forecastle; but the fears of those in the cabin were increased by
this hilarity, which increased the evil chances that overhung the
ship, if a gale came on, and found her with her crew and rigging in
such a state of disorder, and half the main-hatch open!
As day dawned, and the armed lurkers in the once trim cabin looked
around them, its aspect filled them with exasperation and dismay.
The mahogany table, polished to perfection by poor Joe, was split,
and literally torn to pieces by the contents of the carronade; and
below it, the planks were thickly sown with nails. All the missiles
we have enumerated, the fire buckets, double and single blocks,
six-pound shot, holystones, and "prayer-books," &c., encumbered the
floor; and there, cold, white, and ghastly, lay the stiffened corpse
of the unfortunate Mr. Quail, with many a spot and patch of blood,
that had dropped from the cuts and scars of his companions.
Taking advantage of the lull in the hostilities, Morley, Bartelot,
and Noah Gawthrop added all the missiles that strewed the floor to
the barricade behind the cabin-door; Mr. Foster procured more caps
and ammunition for their fire-arms; Heriot prepared plasters and
bandages for their flesh wounds and bruises, while Mr. Basset and the
captain took some wine-and-water, with biscuits, to Ethel, Rose, and
their old attendant, as the only breakfast they had to offer. After
this, unknown to their fair friends in misfortune, Morrison and
Foster made preparations to launch the mortal remains of the poor
mate into the deep.
No time was there then for prayer or homily.
The body was simply rolled up in a blanket taken from his own bed,
lashed tight at the head and foot with a piece of rope. To the
ankles were lashed four of the shot with which the rascals on deck
had favoured them; and, opening one of the large windows next the
rudder-case, they permitted the body to drop gently, feet foremost,
into the pale-green water that seethed under the counter.
It could be seen sinking slowly far down into the depths of the
morning sea, where it vanished; but not soon enough to elude the keen
instinct of some Cape pigeons and albatrosses, which gathered, with
ravening beaks and flapping wings, about the place where the corpse
went down, and where but a few spreading ripples appeared upon the
trough of the rolling waves.
By her frothy wake astern, the _Hermione_ seemed to be going through
the water at the rate of six knots an hour, for the breeze was fresh
and steady.
Some cold beef from the locker of poor Joe, and a glass of
brandy-and-water, were served round for breakfast; and none spoke,
though all thought of how they would fare when the last drop of water
in the cabin was gone!
So passed the noon.
The ill-fated ship still ran north-eastward, increasing hourly, as
Captain Phillips said, her chances of being overhauled by some
homeward-bound ship--a chance on which their hopes of succour mainly
depended now.
END OF VOL. II.
CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE
End of Project Gutenberg's Morley Ashton, Volume 2 (of 3), by James Grant
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