CHAPTER FOUR.
The deed of blood was not yet completed, although we would fain avoidentering more minutely than is necessary into the horrible details ofthe massacre which followed the death of the captain. It is a proof ofthe evil passions which dwell within the bosoms of men, and shows howthose passions may be worked up by tyranny and injustice to make mencommit deeds at which, in their calmer moments, their minds wouldrevolt. Many of the victims struggled manfully for their lives. Amongthe officers was a young midshipman. He was fighting bravely by theside of one of the lieutenants, who was at length cut down.
"Will you swear not to utter a word of what you have seen done to-day?"exclaimed Nol Hargraves, a quartermaster, who was one of the leaders ofthe mutineers, if any could be called leaders, where all seemed suddenlyinspired by the same mad revengeful spirit. The brave boy, as he stoodleaning on his sword, looked undaunted at Hargraves and at thosestanding round him.
"Swear--no!" he exclaimed. "If I live to see you brought to justice, asyou will be some day, I will say that you were cowardly murderers ofyour officers; that you killed sleeping men; that you threw others,still alive, overboard, and that you murdered the surgeons who had curedthe wounded, and tended the sick like brothers. I'll say that youbutchered one of my helpless messmates--a poor boy younger than myself;I'll--!"
"Overboard with him--overboard!" exclaimed Hargraves, who had just cutdown the lieutenant, and seemed like a tiger, which having once tastedblood, thirsts for more.
The midshipman, already fatigued and wounded, raised his weapon todefend himself. Hargraves rushed at the boy, who in an instantafterwards lay writhing at his feet.
"Heave the carcase overboard. It is the way some of us have beentreated, you know that, mates," he exclaimed, throwing the yetpalpitating form of the boy into the sea, when it was eagerly seized onby the ravenous sharks, waiting for their prey supplied by the savagecruelty of man. Many even of the mutineers cried, "Shame! shame!"Hargraves turned fiercely round on them--
"Ye none of you cried shame when the captain did the same--cowards! whydid ye not do it then? Were the lives of our brave fellows of lessvalue than the life of that young cub?"
The men were silenced, but the eyes of many were opened, and they beganfrom that moment bitterly to repent the cruel deed of which they hadbeen guilty. Oh! if they could have recalled the dead, how gladly wouldthey have done so,--their officers, who, if they had sometimes actedharshly, were brave men and countrymen; even the captain, tyrant as hewas, they wished that they could see once more on his quarter-deck, withthe dreadful scene which had been enacted wiped away; but the deed hadbeen done--no power could obliterate it. They had been participators inthe bloody work. It stood recorded against them in the imperishablebooks of Heaven. Blood had been spilt, and blood was to cry out againstthem and to demand a dreadful retribution.
The mutinous crew stood gazing stupidly at each other; the helm had beendeserted, the wind had fallen, the sails were flapping lazily againstthe masts, and the ship's head was going slowly round and round towardsthe different points of the compass. Hargraves and others felt thatsomething must be done; there was no safety for them while their frigatefloated on the broad ocean. What if they should fall in with anotherBritish man-of-war? What account could they give of themselves? Somewere for scuttling her and saying that she had foundered, while they hadescaped in the boats, but the boats would not hold them all, and couldthey trust each other? What likelihood that all would adhere to thesame tale? Was it probable that all the crew should have escaped, andnot an officer with them? The boats might separate, to be sure, but towhat lands could they direct their different courses? On what shore,inhabited by countrymen, dared they place their feet without fear ofdetection? Discussions loud and long took place. It was agreed thatthe ship should be carried to a Spanish port; sold, if the sale could beeffected, and with the proceeds and with such valuables as the murderedofficers possessed, they would separate in various directions, and bychanging their names, avoid all chance of discovery.
But while these dreadful events were occurring, what had become of thosewho had been so lately rescued from a terrible fate on the raft? Hadthey suffered one still more terrible by the hands of their owncountrymen? Paul Gerrard was asleep in his hammock when he heard avoice calling him. It was that of old James Croxton.
"Turn out, Paul," he said, "there is some fearful work going forward ondeck, and I know not who may be the sufferers. We may save some ofthem, though."
Paul was on his feet and dressed in an instant.
"What is to be done?" he asked.
"Mr Devereux is in danger; we might save him," said the old man. "Thepeople are gone mad. Come along."
Paul followed Croxton to the sick bay. Devereux had heard thedisturbance, and from the expressions uttered by the men as they passed,feared that an attack was being made on the officers of the ship. Hewas endeavouring to get up for the purpose of joining the officers, andsharing their fate, whatever that might be. O'Grady was still asleep.Croxton guessed what Devereux was about to do.
"It's of no use, sir--they'll only murder you with the rest," hewhispered: "you must keep out of their way till they're cool. Rouse upMr O'Grady, Paul, and come along."
Saying this, the old man, with a strength scarcely to be expected,lifted up Devereux, and carried, rather than led him, down to the hold.Paul, meantime, had awakened O'Grady, who, though not comprehending whathad occurred, followed him mechanically. The two midshipmen foundthemselves stowed away in total darkness among chests and caskscontaining stores of various sorts.
"The crew have mutinied, there's no doubt about that," answered old Jimto an inquiry made by Devereux; "but we will go and face them, they willnot harm either the boy or me. Don't you speak, though, or make theslightest sound; they'll think that you are hove overboard with therest."
These words confirmed the midshipmen's worst apprehensions. They had notime to ask questions, before the old man, taking Paul by the hand,hurried away. Paul and his companion reached the deck unobserved. Themutineers were all too eager in the desperate work in which they hadengaged to remark them. At that moment Paul saw his friends Reuben Coleand the young Frenchman, Alphonse, with some of the inferior and pettyofficers, dragged forward by the mutineers. Hargraves was the chiefspeaker.
"What is to be done with these?" he asked, turning round to hiscompanions in crime.
"Serve them like the rest," shouted some.
"Dead men tell no tales," muttered others.
"We've had enough of that sort of work," cried the greater number. "Nomore bloodshed! Let them swear to hold their tongues and do as we bidthem."
"You hear what is proposed," said Hargraves, gruffly. "Will you fellowstake your lives on these terms?"
"Not I, for one, ye murderous villains," exclaimed Reuben Cole, doublinghis fists and confronting the mutineers. "I'll take nothing at yourhands, but I'm very certain that there are plenty of men aboard herewho'll not stand idly by and see me butchered on that account. As topeaching on you, I'm not going to do that, but you'll not get anotherword out of me about the matter."
Had Hargraves had his way, it would have fared ill with honest Reuben;but the latter had not wrongly estimated the support he was likely toreceive from his new shipmates, whose goodwill he knew that he hadgained.
"Reuben Cole is not the man to peach, even if he has the chance,"shouted several of them.
"No fear; he'll prove true to us, and so will the little Mounseer there;won't you?" asked one, turning to Alphonse. "We couldn't afford to loseyou and your fiddle, especially just now, when we shall want somethingto keep up our spirits."
Alphonse, not comprehending what was said, made no reply. His silencewas construed into contumacy, and some of Hargraves' adherents laidhands on him, and appeared as if they were about to throw him overboard,when Paul shouted out to him in French what was said. Alphonse verynaturally had no scruples to overcome. He could only look on the f
ateof the captain as a just retribution on his tyranny.
"Oh, yes, yes! I play the fiddle," he exclaimed; "I go get it--I playfor you all."
Not waiting for an answer, he ran towards the nearest hatchway, andpassing near Paul, inquired for Devereux and O'Grady.
"Safe," whispered Paul, and the young Frenchman dived below.
He speedily returned with his faithful violin, and without waiting to beasked, began to play. The hearts of all his hearers were too heavy toallow them to be influenced as under other circumstances they would havebeen by the music, but it served in a degree to calm their fiercepassions, and to turn them from their evil intentions. Of the principalofficers of the ship the master alone had hitherto escaped destruction.He was no coward. He had seen with horror the murder of his messmatesand captain, but life was sweet, and when offered to him, even on termsdegrading, undoubtedly--that he would navigate the ship into an enemy'sport--he accepted them. The few warrant and petty officers who hadescaped being killed, at once declared their intention of acting as themaster had done.
"It's fortunate for you, mates, that you don't belong to the brood whogrow into captains," exclaimed Hargraves, fiercely. "I, for one, wouldnever have consented to let you live if you had."
Paul trembled for the fate of his friends when he heard theseexpressions, for Hargraves looked like a man who would put any threatshe might utter into execution. Order was somewhat restored, officerswere appointed to keep watch, and the ship was put on the course for theport to which it was proposed she should be carried. The crew had oncebeen accustomed to keep a sharp look-out for an enemy; they now kept astill more anxious watch to avoid any British cruiser which mightapproach them. Day and night they were haunted with the dread ofmeeting their countrymen. Paul overheard some of the ringleadersconsulting together.
"There are only two things to be done; if we can't run from them, tofight it out to the last, or to kill all those who won't swear to bestaunch, and to declare that they died of fever," said one of them in alow, determined voice.
"Ay, that's the only thing for it," growled out another; "I'm not goingto swing for nothing, I've made up my mind."
"Swing! who talks of swinging? None of that, Tom," exclaimed a third,in uneasy tones.
"It's what one and all of us will do, mates, if we don't look out whatwe're about," said Hargraves, who was waiting for an opportunity ofpressing his plans on his companions. "We have let too many of themlive as it is, and it's my opinion there's no safety for any of us aslong as one of them breathes. I've heard tell what the old pirates usedto do to make men faithful. They didn't trust to oaths--not they--butthey made those who said they were ready to join them shoot theirshipmates who refused. That's what we must do, mates; it's the onlysecure way, you may depend on't."
Paul was convinced that the men spoke in earnest, and afraid of beingdiscovered should he remain, he crept stealthily away. He searchedabout till he found Croxton and Reuben, and told them at once what hehad heard and feared.
"There's little doubt but that you are right, Paul," said old Croxton,after meditating for some time. "We thought that we were fortunate ingetting on board this ship, and now, to my mind, we shall be fortunateto get out of her. I'm afraid for poor Mr Devereux and Mr O'Grady.It will go hard with them if they're discovered."
"I have it," said Reuben, after thinking for some time--speaking in alow voice--"We must leave this cursed ship and carry off the two younggentlemen. I'd sooner be on the raft out in the Atlantic, than aboardof her."
"Ay, lads, `Better is a dry crust with contentment,'" remarked old Jim."But how to leave the ship, so as to escape without being followed--there's the difficulty."
"`Where there's a will there's a way,'" said Reuben. "If it must bedone, it can be done."
"Right, lad," said Croxton; "it must be done, for we deserve the fate ofvillains if we consort with them longer than we can help; though I'llnot say that all on board this unhappy ship are equally bad. There aremany who would be glad to escape from her if they had but the chance."
"It must be done," repeated Reuben. "We may make off with a boat somedark night. The young Frenchman and our own fellows will be sure tojoin, and I think that there's three or four others--maybe more--who'llbe glad to get away at any risk."
"We must run the risk, and it isn't a small one," said Croxton. "Ifthey were to catch us, they'd kill us. There's no doubt about that."
The whole plan was soon settled--who were to be got to join--the boat tobe taken--the way she was to be lowered. Devereux and O'Grady were tobe told of it when all was ready, and were to be brought up on deck assoon as it was dark, and stowed away in the boat herself till the momentof escape had arrived. Paul was usually employed to carry food to themidshipmen. Sometimes, however, Croxton went, sometimes Reuben, tolessen the risk of his object being suspected. Paul waited till night--the time he visited his friends--and hiding a lantern under his jacket,carefully groped his way down to them. They highly approved of the planproposed for escaping from the ship, and were eager for the moment forputting it into execution. O'Grady, especially, was heartily weary ofhis confinement.
"I doubt if my two legs will ever be able to stretch themselves outstraight again, after being cramped up so long, like herrings in acask," he exclaimed, in the low tone in which it was necessary to speak."We owe you a heavy debt, Gerrard, and if you succeed in getting us outof this, it will be a huge deal greater."
"If it were not for old Jim and Reuben Cole, I could be but of littleuse, so say nothing about that, Mr O'Grady," answered Paul. "I amgoing to try and find out on the charts, when the master is working hisday's work, exactly where we are, and if there's land near, we may,perhaps, get away to-morrow."
Paul felt far from comfortable all the next day. He could not helpfancying that the mutineers suspected him, and that he should suddenlyfind himself seized and thrown overboard. What he dreaded most was theultimate failure of the undertaking. His two friends had in themeantime sounded those they hoped might join them, but whether all werefavourable to the plan he could not ascertain. His eye was constantlyon the master, who at length, seeing him near, sent him for his quadrantand tables. This was just what Paul wanted. He stood by while theobservations were being taken, and then, carrying the instrument,followed the master to the cabin. Paul brought out the chart, andplaced it before him, watching anxiously the movements of his companionas he measured off the distance run since the previous day.
More than once the master glanced round the cabin, and sighed deeply."In five or six days my disgraceful task will be done," he muttered, ashe moved the compasses towards the coast of the Spanish main. "Thenwhat remains for me in life? If I escape an ignominious death, I mustever be suspected of having consented to the murder of my brotherofficers. I would rather that the ship had gone down, and the wholehistory of the butchery been hid from mortal knowledge. Yet God knowsit, and it may teach officers for the future the dreadful consequencesof tyranny and cruelty."
He continued on in the same strain, not aware, it seemed, that Paul waslistening. Paul retired to a distance. "Shall I ask the master to joinus?" he thought to himself. "No, it will not do. It would greatlyincrease the risk of our being caught." He waited till the master wassilent. He went back to the table. "Shall I put up the charts?" heasked. "But before I do so, will you, sir, kindly show me where weare?"
Since the outbreak the poor master had not been treated with so muchrespect. He showed Paul the exact position of the ship, theneighbouring lands, and remarked on the prevailing currents and winds.Paul rolled up the chart, and put it in its place. He fancied that themaster must have suspected his thoughts. Paul soon after met hisfriends, and told them of all he had learned.
It was agreed that they would wait till it was the master's watch, forso few of the mutineers could take command of a watch, that he wascompelled constantly to be on deck. It was suspected that he had attimes given way to intemperance, and Paul had observed more
than oncethat when he came on deck he appeared to have been drinking, and that hefrequently dropped asleep when sitting on a gun or leaning against theside of the ship. Many of the seamen who had free access to thespirit-room were also constantly tipsy at night, though the chiefmutineers, from necessity, kept sober. The once well-ordered man-of-warsoon became like a lawless buccaneer. The men rolled about the deckshalf tipsy, some were playing cards and dice between the guns, some werefighting, and others were sleeping in any shady place they could find.
Paul passed old Croxton on deck. "We shall have little difficulty inaccomplishing our object if this goes on," he whispered.
"Yes, Paul, what is lost by fools is gained by wise men," he answered."Ay, and there is one who will gain more than all by the work done onboard this ship. He will soon leave his poor dupes to wish that theyhad never been born."
Paul and his friends waited anxiously for night: they had resolved nolonger to delay their attempt.
"I'll take care that they don't follow us," said Reuben.
"What do you mean?" asked Paul.
"I'll tell you, lad," was the answer; and he whispered something intohis companion's ear.
Paul felt that there was a great deal to be done, and longed for themoment of action. He observed with satisfaction that frequent visitswere made to the spirit-room, and that even the master was taking morethan his usual share of grog. The ship sailed steadily over the calmsea--night drew on. Paul's heart beat unusually fast. He waited tillhe was sure that he was not perceived, and then he climbed into one ofthe boats. He was there for some time, and then descending he got intoanother; and so he visited all in succession. Again he slunk downbelow.
At length the master came on deck to keep his watch. The night, forthose latitudes, was unusually dark, but the sea was smooth. The shipglided calmly on, the ripple made by her stem as she drove her waythrough the water showing, however, that a fair breeze filled her sails.The master leaned against a gun-carriage, and gradually sunk down onit, resting his head on his hands. The helmsman stood at his post, nowgazing at the broad spread of canvas above him, and then mechanically atthe compass, with its light shining in the binnacle before him, butlooking neither to the right hand nor to the left. The rest of thewatch placed themselves at their ease between the guns, and were soon,whatever might have been their intention, fast asleep. One by oneothers now stole on deck towards the boat Paul had last visited. Not aword was spoken. At length two men appeared bearing two slight figureson their backs. The latter were carefully deposited in the boat, whichwas quickly lowered. The whole manoeuvre was executed with the greatestrapidity and in the most perfect silence. Even the helmsman, who,though drowsy, could not have been entirely asleep, took no notice ofthem. In another instant, had anybody been looking over the side, adark object might have been seen dropping astern. It was a boat, whichcontained Paul Gerrard and his companions, who had thus made theirperilous escape from the blood-stained ship. Not till they were farastern did any one venture to speak. Devereux at last drew a deep sigh."Thank Heaven, we are free of them!" he exclaimed.
"Amen!" said old Croxton, in a deep voice. "We have reason to rejoiceand be thankful. Sad will be the end of all those wretched men. Theirvictims are more to be envied than they."
As soon as it was deemed safe the oars were got out, a lantern waslighted to throw its light on the compass, and the boat was steeredtowards the north-west. The wind soon dropped to a perfect calm.
"We are safe now," exclaimed Paul. "Even if they were to miss us theycould not follow, for there is not a boat on board which can swim or anoar to pull with. Some I dropped overboard, and others I cut nearlythrough just above the blades, and I bored holes in all the boats wherethey could not be seen till the boats were in the water."
"Well done, Gerrard. If we get clear off, we shall owe our escape toyour judgment; but you ran a great risk of losing your life. Themutineers would have murdered you if they had discovered what you wereabout."
"I knew that, sir; but I knew also that nothing can be done withoutdanger and trouble."
"Ay, boy, and that no danger or trouble is too great, so that we mayescape from the company of sinners," remarked old Croxton. "Think ofthat, young gentleman. If you consent to remain with them because youare too lazy to flee, you will soon fall into their ways, and become oneof them."
Some of his hearers remembered those words in after years. All nightlong the oars were kept going, and when morning dawned the ship wasnowhere to be seen.
"Now let us turn to and have some breakfast," exclaimed O'Grady. "Itwill be the first for many a day that you and I have eaten in sunlight,Devereux, and I see good reason that we should be thankful. Then we'llhave a tune from Alphonse, for I'll warrant that he has brought hisfiddle."
"Ah, dat I have," cried the young Frenchman, exhibiting his belovedinstrument. "But, mes amis, ve vill mange first. De arm vil not movevidout de oil!"
Alphonse had greatly improved in his knowledge of English.
A good supply of provisions had been collected, but as it was uncertainwhen they should make the land, it was necessary to be economical intheir use. A very good breakfast, however, was made, and the spirits ofthe party rose as their hunger was appeased, and they thought of theirhappy escape. As the sun, however, arose in the blue sky, its raysstruck down on their unprotected heads, and they would gladly have gotunder shelter, but there was no shelter for them out on the glassyshining sea. Still they rowed on. To remain where they were was to dieby inches. Devereux did his best, as he had done on the raft, to keepup the spirits of his men, and, weak as he was, he would have taken hisspell at the oar if they had let him.
"No, no, sir; you just take your trick at the helm, if you thinkproper," exclaimed Croxton. "But just let us do the hard work. It'syour head guides us, and without that we should be badly off."
Devereux saw the wisdom of this remark. They knew that they had five,and perhaps six days' hard rowing before they could hope to reachDominica, the nearest island they supposed belonged to Great Britain,according to the information Paul had gained from the master. Theywere, however, far better off than when they had been on the raft, forthey had food, were in a well-found boat, and knew tolerably well theirposition. Still they were not in good spirits, which is not surprising,considering the scenes they had witnessed, the dangers they had endured,and the uncertainty of the future.
Dominica was an English possession, but it had once been taken by theFrench, and might have been again; and Alphonse fancied that he hadheard that it was proposed to make a descent on the island, in whichcase they would fall among enemies instead of friends.
"Ah! but your countrymen would surely treat us who come to them indistress as friends," observed O'Grady.
"Ah, dat dey vould!" exclaimed Alphonse, warmly.
"Well, mounseer, there is good and there is bad among 'em, of thatthere's no doubt," observed Reuben, taking his quid out of his mouth,and looking the young Frenchman in the face; "but do ye see I'd rathernot try lest we should fall among the bad, and there's a precious lot on'em."
Notwithstanding these doubts Devereux continued his course for Dominica.As the sun rose higher in the sky, the heat became greater and greater,till it was almost insupportable. A sail spread over the boat affordedsome shelter from its rays, but they pierced through it as easily as amosquito's sting does through a kid glove, till the air under it becameeven more stifling than that above.
All the time in turns they continued to row on--night and day there wasto be no cessation. Reversing the usual order, they longed for thenight, when the air would be cooler, and their heads would escape thefrying process going on while the sun was above them.
"Och, but this is hot," cried O'Grady for the hundredth time. "If thisgoes on much longer, we'll all be turned into real black ebony niggers,and the Christians on shore will be after putting us to work at thesugar-canes, and be swearing we've just come straight across fromAfrica. As to our tongues
, there'll be no safety for us through them,and they'll swear we've made off with the uniforms from some ship of waror other, and perhaps be tricing us up as thieves and murderers. Didyou ever hear tell of the Irishman--a sweet countryman of mine,--whoonce came out from the Emerald Isle to these parts--to Demerara, Ibelieve? As soon as the ship which brought him entered the harbour, shewas boarded by a boat full of niggers.
"`Will yer honour have your duds carried ashore now?' asks one, steppingup to him. `It's myself will see ye all comfortable in a jiffy, ifye'll trust me, at Mother Flannigan's.'
"My countryman looked at him very hard.
"`What's your name now?' he asks with some trepidation.
"`Pat O'Dwyer, yer honour,' says the nigger.
"`Pat, how long have ye been here?' asks my countryman, solemnly.
"`Faith, about two years, yer honour,' says the nigger.
"`Two years, did ye say--two years only to turn a white Irishman into anigger?' exclaimed my countryman with no little alarm. `Then faith thesooner I get away back from out of this black-burning country thebetter--or my own mither down in Ballyshannon won't be after knowing herown beautiful boy again at all, and my father would be after disowningme, and my sisters and brothers to boot, and Father O'Roony would bedeclaring that it was a white Christian he made of me, and that Icouldn't be the same anyhow. Take my duds on shore. No. Take 'embelow, and I'll go there too, and remain there too till the ship sailsand I'm out of this nigger-making land.' My countryman kept to hisintention, and from that day till the ship sailed, never set foot onshore. You'll understand that no small number of Irishmen go out tothat country, and that the nigger boy had learnt his English from them--for he wasn't a real Irishman after all, but that my countryman did notfind out till he got back to auld Ireland again.
"Och, they are broths of boys the Paddies, but they do make curiousmistakes somehow or other, it must be allowed.
"I was one day dining at the mess of some soldier officers, when one ofthem, a Captain O'Rourke, positively declared on his faith as agentleman that `he had seen anchovies growing on the walls atGibraltar.'
"Most of the party opened their eyes, but said nothing, for O'Rourke wasnot a man whose word a quietly-disposed person would wish in his sobermoments to call in question.
"Unfortunately, there was present an Englishman, a Lieutenant Brown,into whose head the fumes of the tawny port and ruby claret had alreadymounted.
"`Anchovies growing on a wall?' he blurted out. `That's a cram if everthere was one.'
"O'Rourke was on his feet in a moment,--
"`What, sir--it's not you who mean to say that you don't believe me, Ihope?' he exclaimed, in a voice which meant mischief.
"`Believe you! I should think I don't, or any man who can talk suchgammon,' answered Brown, in a tone of defiance.
"As may be supposed, there was only one way in which such a matter couldend. Preliminaries were soon settled. The affair would have come offthat evening, but it would have broken up the party too soon, andbesides it wouldn't have been fair, as Brown's hand was not as steady asit might have been. So it was put off till the next morning soon afterdaylight, when there was a good gathering to see the fun. The Englishgenerally took Brown's side. I of course stood by O'Rourke, not that Iwas quite sure he was in the right, by-the-by.
"It was very evident that Brown had no notion of handling his pistol.
"`I'll just wing him to teach the spalpeen better manners,' whisperedO'Rourke to his second. `He's unworthy game for my weapon.'
"The word was given to fire. Brown's bullet flew up among some treesaway to the right, not a little frightening the young in a nest ofbirds, who popped out their heads to see what was the matter. It wasnow our friend's turn.
He smiled as he sent his ball through Brown's trousers, cruelly grazinghis leg, whereon he began to skip about in the most comical way possiblewith the pain.
"`By ---, you've made that fellow cut capers at all events,' observedO'Rourke's second.
"`Cut capers, did ye say?' exclaimed O'Rourke. `Them's the very thingsI saw growing on the wall, and not anchovies at all, at all.' Andrushing up to poor Brown, who had fallen on the ground, he took hishand, greatly to the surprise of the wounded man, crying out,--`It'smyself made the trifle of a mistake, my dear fellow, it's capers, it'scapers, grows on walls, so get up and don't think anything more aboutthe matter.'
"Poor Brown went limping about for many a day afterwards, and didn'tseem to consider the matter half as good a joke as the rest of us."
O'Grady's stories amused the party, though Croxton very properlyremarked that duelling was a wicked heathen custom, and that he wonderedpeople who called themselves Christians could ever indulge in it. Otherstories were told, but their interest flagged, for people are notgenerally in a talkative mood with the thermometer above a hundred, andwith a small supply of water. Alphonse, however, from time to time kepthis fiddlestick going, both to his own satisfaction, and that of hishearers. Still he, on account of the heat, was often compelled to putit down, and to declare that he could play no longer.
Great and unusual, however, as was the heat, it did not appear to causeany apprehension of danger in the mind of Devereux. The night came on,and though the air even then was hot, the weary crew were refreshed bysleep. The sun rose, and the air was hotter than ever, notwithstandinga dense mist, which gradually filled the atmosphere, while soon a luridglare spread over it. Croxton, as he watched the change, looked evengraver than before. "You've not been in these seas before, MrDevereux, sir?" he observed.
"No; and if the weather is always as broiling as it is at present, Idon't wish to come to them again in a hurry," answered Devereux. "Butone thing is fortunate--they are calm enough to please any old ladieswho might venture on them."
"Don't count too much on that, sir, if an old man who has cruised formany a long year out here in every part may venture to give you advice,"said Croxton, in an earnest tone. "The weather here is often like apassionate man--calm one moment, and raging furiously the next. I tellyou, sir, I don't like its look at present, and I fear, before long,that we shall have a job to keep the boat afloat."
"What do you mean, Croxton?" said Devereux. "The boat is the strongestand best-built belonging to the frigate."
"I mean, sir, that a hurricane is about to burst over us, and that thestrongest and best-built boat can scarcely live through it," was theanswer.
"I fear that you are right," replied Devereux. "We'll prepare the boatas best we can for what is coming."
No time was to be lost. The staves of a cask knocked to pieces werenailed round the sides of the boat, and to these a sail, cut into broadstrips, was nailed, so that the water might the better be kept out. Themen were also ordered to rest and to take some food, and then calmlythey waited the expected event. They were not kept long in suspense.
"Here it comes," cried Croxton. "Our only chance is to run before it."He pointed as he spoke astern, where a long line of snow-white foam wasseen rolling on over the leaden ocean, the sky above it being evendarker than before.
"Out oars, and pull for your lives, lads!" cried Devereux.
Scarcely had the boat gathered full away before the hurricane overtookher, and she was surrounded by a seething mass of foam; every instantthe seas growing higher and higher, and rolling up with fierce roars, asif to overwhelm her. It seemed impossible that an open boat could livein such tumultuous waters, yet still she kept afloat, flying on beforethe tempest. Devereux firmly grasped the helm. He knew that anycareless steering would cause the destruction of the boat and all inher. The crew looked at each other. No wonder that many a cheek waspale. Who could tell how soon they might be struggling helplessly amidthe foam, while their boat was sinking down below their feet? It wasimpossible to say also where they might drive to.
On flew the boat. As the hurricane increased in strength and gainedgreater and greater power over the water, the seas increased in heightand came rolling and tumbling
on, foaming, hissing, and roaring--threatening every instant to engulph her. So great was the force of thewind, that the oars were almost blown out of the men's hands, theirefforts being expended solely in keeping the boat running before thesea. Those not rowing were employed in baling, for, in spite of alltheir efforts, the water washed in in such abundance as to require alltheir exertions to heave it out again.
Paul, as he laboured away with the rest, thought a great deal of homeand the dear ones he had left there. He believed, and had good reasonfor believing, that he should never see them again, for by what possiblemeans could he and his companions escape destruction, unless thehurricane was suddenly to cease, and it had as yet not gained itsheight. Even as it was, the boat could scarcely be kept afloat. Night,too, would soon arrive, and then the difficulty of steering before thesea would be greatly increased. Still the boat floated. Now a seahigher than its predecessors came roaring on--the foam blown from itssummit half filled the boat. With difficulty she could be freed ofwater before another came following with a still more threateningaspect. The voice of old Croxton was heard raised in prayer. Each onebelieved that his last hour was come. It turned suddenly aside, and theboat still floated. Again and again they were threatened and escaped.Darkness, however, was now rapidly coming on and increasing the terrificaspect of the tempest. Devereux, aided by Reuben Cole, sat steering theboat. Not a word was spoken. The roar of the waves increased.
"Breakers ahead!" cried old Croxton, in a deep solemn voice. "The Lordhave mercy on our souls!"
The boat was lifted higher than before amid the tumultuous hissingcauldron of foaming waters, and then down she came with a fearful crashon a coral reef.
Paul Gerrard, the Cabin Boy Page 4