In the meanwhile the two boats made straight for the red column thatuprose like a gigantic torch over the silent sea.
As Blunt had said, the burning ship lay a good twelve miles from theMalabar, and the pull was a long and a weary one. Once fairly away fromthe protecting sides of the vessel that had borne them thus far ontheir dismal journey, the adventurers seemed to have come into a newatmosphere. The immensity of the ocean over which they slowly movedrevealed itself for the first time. On board the prison ship, surroundedwith all the memories if not with the comforts of the shore they hadquitted, they had not realized how far they were from that civilizationwhich had given them birth. The well-lighted, well-furnished cuddy, thehomely mirth of the forecastle, the setting of sentries and the changingof guards, even the gloom and terror of the closely-locked prison,combined to make the voyagers feel secure against the unknown dangers ofthe sea. That defiance of Nature which is born of contact with humanity,had hitherto sustained them, and they felt that, though alone on thevast expanse of waters, they were in companionship with others of theirkind, and that the perils one man had passed might be successfully daredby another. But now--with one ship growing smaller behind them, and theother, containing they knew not what horror of human agony and humanhelplessness, lying a burning wreck in the black distance ahead ofthem--they began to feel their own littleness. The Malabar, that hugesea monster, in whose capacious belly so many human creatures lived andsuffered, had dwindled to a walnut-shell, and yet beside her bulk howinfinitely small had their own frail cockboat appeared as they shot outfrom under her towering stern! Then the black hull rising above them,had seemed a tower of strength, built to defy the utmost violence ofwind and wave; now it was but a slip of wood floating--on an unknowndepth of black, fathomless water. The blue light, which, at its firstflashing over the ocean, had made the very stars pale their lustre, andlighted up with ghastly radiance the enormous vault of heaven, was nowonly a point, brilliant and distinct it is true, but which by its verybrilliance dwarfed the ship into insignificance. The Malabar lay onthe water like a glow-worm on a floating leaf, and the glare of thesignal-fire made no more impression on the darkness than the candlecarried by a solitary miner would have made on the abyss of a coal-pit.
And yet the Malabar held two hundred creatures like themselves!
The water over which the boats glided was black and smooth, rising intohuge foamless billows, the more terrible because they were silent. Whenthe sea hisses, it speaks, and speech breaks the spell of terror; whenit is inert, heaving noiselessly, it is dumb, and seems to brood overmischief. The ocean in a calm is like a sulky giant; one dreads that itmay be meditating evil. Moreover, an angry sea looks less vast in extentthan a calm one. Its mounting waves bring the horizon nearer, andone does not discern how for many leagues the pitiless billows repeatthemselves. To appreciate the hideous vastness of the ocean one must seeit when it sleeps.
The great sky uprose from this silent sea without a cloud. The starshung low in its expanse, burning in a violent mist of lower ether. Theheavens were emptied of sound, and each dip of the oars was re-echoed inspace by a succession of subtle harmonies. As the blades struck thedark water, it flashed fire, and the tracks of the boats resembledtwo sea-snakes writhing with silent undulations through a lake ofquicksilver.
It had been a sort of race hitherto, and the rowers, with set teeth andcompressed lips, had pulled stroke for stroke. At last the foremostboat came to a sudden pause. Best gave a cheery shout and passed her,steering straight into the broad track of crimson that already reeked onthe sea ahead.
"What is it?" he cried.
But he heard only a smothered curse from Frere, and then his consortpulled hard to overtake him.
It was, in fact, nothing of consequence--only a prisoner "giving in".
"Curse it!" says Frere, "What's the matter with you? Oh, you, isit?--Dawes! Of course, Dawes. I never expected anything better from sucha skulking hound. Come, this sort of nonsense won't do with me. It isn'tas nice as lolloping about the hatchways, I dare say, but you'll have togo on, my fine fellow."
"He seems sick, sir," said (with) compassionate bow.
"Sick! Not he. Shamming. Come, give way now! Put your backs into it!"and the convict having picked up his oar, the boat shot forward again.
But, for all Mr. Frere's urging, he could not recover the way he hadlost, and Best was the first to run in under the black cloud that hungover the crimsoned water.
At his signal, the second boat came alongside.
"Keep wide," he said. "If there are many fellows yet aboard, they'llswamp us; and I think there must be, as we haven't met the boats," andthen raising his voice, as the exhausted crew lay on their oars, hehailed the burning ship.
She was a huge, clumsily-built vessel, with great breadth of beam, anda lofty poop-deck. Strangely enough, though they had so lately seen thefire, she was already a wreck, and appeared to be completely deserted.The chief hold of the fire was amidships, and the lower deck was onemass of flame. Here and there were great charred rifts and gaps in hersides, and the red-hot fire glowed through these as through the bars ofa grate. The main-mast had fallen on the starboard side, and trailed ablackened wreck in the water, causing the unwieldy vessel to leanover heavily. The fire roared like a cataract, and huge volumes offlame-flecked smoke poured up out of the hold, and rolled away in alow-lying black cloud over the sea.
As Frere's boat pulled slowly round her stern, he hailed the deck againand again.
Still there was no answer, and though the flood of light that dyed thewater blood-red struck out every rope and spar distinct and clear, hisstraining eyes could see no living soul aboard. As they came nearer,they could distinguish the gilded letters of her name.
"What is it, men?" cried Frere, his voice almost drowned amid the roarof the flames. "Can you see?"
Rufus Dawes, impelled, it would seem, by some strong impulse ofcuriosity, stood erect, and shaded his eyes with his hand.
"Well--can't you speak? What is it?"
"The Hydaspes!"
Frere gasped.
The Hydaspes! The ship in which his cousin Richard Devine had sailed!The ship for which those in England might now look in vain! The Hydaspeswhich--something he had heard during the speculations as to this missingcousin flashed across him.
"Back water, men! Round with her! Pull for your lives!"
Best's boat glided alongside.
"Can you see her name?"
Frere, white with terror, shouted a reply.
"The Hydaspes! I know her. She is bound for Calcutta, and she has fivetons of powder aboard!"
There was no need for more words. The single sentence explained thewhole mystery of her desertion. The crew had taken to the boats on thefirst alarm, and had left their death-fraught vessel to her fate. Theywere miles off by this time, and unluckily for themselves, perhaps, hadsteered away from the side where rescue lay.
The boats tore through the water. Eager as the men had been to come,they were more eager to depart. The flames had even now reached thepoop; in a few minutes it would be too late. For ten minutes or more nota word was spoken. With straining arms and labouring chests, therowers tugged at the oars, their eyes fixed on the lurid mass they wereleaving. Frere and Best, with their faces turned back to the terrorthey fled from, urged the men to greater efforts. Already the flames hadlapped the flag, already the outlines of the stern carvings were blurredby the fire.
Another moment, and all would be over. Ah! it had come at last. A dullrumbling sound; the burning ship parted asunder; a pillar of fire,flecked with black masses that were beams and planks, rose up out ofthe ocean; there was a terrific crash, as though sea and sky were comingtogether; and then a mighty mountain of water rose, advanced, caught,and passed them, and they were alone--deafened, stunned, and breathless,in a sudden horror of thickest darkness, and a silence like that of thetomb.
The splashing of the falling fragments awoke them from their stupor, andthen the blue light of the Malabar stru
ck out a bright pathway acrossthe sea, and they knew that they were safe.
* * * * *
On board the Malabar two men paced the deck, waiting for dawn.
It came at last. The sky lightened, the mist melted away, and then along, low, far-off streak of pale yellow light floated on the easternhorizon. By and by the water sparkled, and the sea changed colour,turning from black to yellow, and from yellow to lucid green. The man atthe masthead hailed the deck. The boats were in sight, and as they cametowards the ship, the bright water flashing from the labouring oars, acrowd of spectators hanging over the bulwarks cheered and waved theirhats.
"Not a soul!" cried Blunt. "No one but themselves. Well, I'm gladthey're safe anyway."
The boats drew alongside, and in a few seconds Frere was upon deck.
"Well, Mr. Frere?"
"No use," cried Frere, shivering. "We only just had time to get away.The nearest thing in the world, sir."
"Didn't you see anyone?"
"Not a soul. They must have taken to the boats."
"Then they can't be far off," cried Blunt, sweeping the horizon with hisglass. "They must have pulled all the way, for there hasn't been enoughwind to fill a hollow tooth with." "Perhaps they pulled in the wrongdirection," said Frere. "They had a good four hours' start of us, youknow."
Then Best came up, and told the story to a crowd of eager listeners. Thesailors having hoisted and secured the boats, were hurried off to theforecastle, there to eat, and relate their experience between mouthfuls,and the four convicts were taken in charge and locked below again.
"You had better go and turn in, Frere," said Pine gruffly. "It's no usewhistling for a wind here all day."
Frere laughed--in his heartiest manner. "I think I will," he said. "I'mdog tired, and as sleepy as an owl," and he descended the poop ladder.Pine took a couple of turns up and down the deck, and then catchingBlunt's eye, stopped in front of Vickers.
"You may think it a hard thing to say, Captain Vickers, but it's justas well if we don't find these poor devils. We have quite enough on ourhands as it is."
"What do you mean, Mr. Pine?" says Vickers, his humane feelings gettingthe better of his pomposity. "You would not surely leave the unhappy mento their fate."
"Perhaps," returned the other, "they would not thank us for taking themaboard."
"I don't understand you."
"The fever has broken out."
Vickers raised his brows. He had no experience of such things; andthough the intelligence was startling, the crowded condition of theprison rendered it easy to be understood, and he apprehended no dangerto himself.
"It is a great misfortune; but, of course, you will take such steps--"
"It is only in the prison, as yet," says Pine, with a grim emphasis onthe word; "but there is no saying how long it may stop there. I have gotthree men down as it is." "Well, sir, all authority in the matter is inyour hands. Any suggestions you make, I will, of course, do my best tocarry out."
"Thank ye. I must have more room in the hospital to begin with. Thesoldiers must lie a little closer."
"I will see what can be done."
"And you had better keep your wife and the little girl as much on deckas possible."
Vickers turned pale at the mention of his child. "Good Heaven! do youthink there is any danger?"
"There is, of course, danger to all of us; but with care we may escapeit. There's that maid, too. Tell her to keep to herself a little more.She has a trick of roaming about the ship I don't like. Infection iseasily spread, and children always sicken sooner than grown-up people."
Vickers pressed his lips together. This old man, with his harsh,dissonant voice, and hideous practicality, seemed like a bird of illomen.
Blunt, hitherto silently listening, put in a word for defence of theabsent woman. "The wench is right enough, Pine," said he. "What's thematter with her?"
"Yes, she's all right, I've no doubt. She's less likely to take it thanany of us. You can see her vitality in her face--as many lives as a cat.But she'd bring infection quicker than anybody."
"I'll--I'll go at once," cried poor Vickers, turning round. The woman ofwhom they were speaking met him on the ladder. Her face was paler thanusual, and dark circles round her eyes gave evidence of a sleeplessnight. She opened her red lips to speak, and then, seeing Vickers,stopped abruptly.
"Well, what is it?"
She looked from one to the other. "I came for Dr. Pine."
Vickers, with the quick intelligence of affection, guessed her errand."Someone is ill?"
"Miss Sylvia, sir. It is nothing to signify, I think. A little feverishand hot, and my mistress--"
Vickers was down the ladder in an instant, with scared face.
Pine caught the girl's round firm arm. "Where have you been?" Two greatflakes of red came out in her white cheeks, and she shot an indignantglance at Blunt.
"Come, Pine, let the wench alone!"
"Were you with the child last night?" went on Pine, without turning hishead.
"No; I have not been in the cabin since dinner yesterday. Mrs. Vickersonly called me in just now. Let go my arm, sir, you hurt me."
Pine loosed his hold as if satisfied at the reply. "I beg your pardon,"he said gruffly. "I did not mean to hurt you. But the fever has brokenout in the prison, and I think the child has caught it. You must becareful where you go." And then, with an anxious face, he went inpursuit of Vickers.
Sarah Purfoy stood motionless for an instant, in deadly terror. Her lipsparted, her eyes glittered, and she made a movement as though to retraceher steps.
"Poor soul!" thought honest Blunt, "how she feels for the child! D----that lubberly surgeon, he's hurt her!--Never mind, my lass," hesaid aloud. It was broad daylight, and he had not as much courage inlove-making as at night. "Don't be afraid. I've been in ships with feverbefore now."
Awaking, as it were, at the sound of his voice, she came closer to him."But ship fever! I have heard of it! Men have died like rotten sheep incrowded vessels like this."
"Tush! Not they. Don't be frightened; Miss Sylvia won't die, nor youneither." He took her hand. "It may knock off a few dozen prisoners orso. They are pretty close packed down there--"
She drew her hand away; and then, remembering herself, gave it himagain.
"What is the matter?"
"Nothing--a pain. I did not sleep last night."
"There, there; you are upset, I dare say. Go and lie down."
She was staring away past him over the sea, as if in thought. Sointently did she look that he involuntarily turned his head, and theaction recalled her to herself. She brought her fine straight browstogether for a moment, and then raised them with the action of a thinkerwho has decided on his course of conduct.
"I have a toothache," said she, putting her hand to her face.
"Take some laudanum," says Blunt, with dim recollections of his mother'streatment of such ailments. "Old Pine'll give you some."
To his astonishment she burst into tears.
"There--there! Don't cry, my dear. Hang it, don't cry. What are youcrying about?"
She dashed away the bright drops, and raised her face with a rainy smileof trusting affection. "Nothing! I am lonely. So far from home; and--andDr. Pine hurt my arm. Look!"
She bared that shapely member as she spoke, and sure enough there werethree red marks on the white and shining flesh.
"The ruffian!" cried Blunt, "it's too bad." And after a hasty lookaround him, the infatuated fellow kissed the bruise. "I'll get thelaudanum for you," he said. "You shan't ask that bear for it. Come intomy cabin."
Blunt's cabin was in the starboard side of the ship, just under the poopawning, and possessed three windows--one looking out over the side, andtwo upon deck. The corresponding cabin on the other side was occupiedby Mr. Maurice Frere. He closed the door, and took down a small medicinechest, cleated above the hooks where hung his signal-pictured telescope.
"Here," said he, opening
it. "I've carried this little box for years,but it ain't often I want to use it, thank God. Now, then, put some o'this into your mouth, and hold it there."
"Good gracious, Captain Blunt, you'll poison me! Give me the bottle;I'll help myself."
"Don't take too much," says Blunt. "It's dangerous stuff, you know."
"You need not fear. I've used it before."
The door was shut, and as she put the bottle in her pocket, the amorouscaptain caught her in his arms.
"What do you say? Come, I think I deserve a kiss for that."
Her tears were all dry long ago, and had only given increased colour toher face. This agreeable woman never wept long enough to make herselfdistasteful. She raised her dark eyes to his for a moment, with a saucysmile. "By and by," said she, and escaping, gained her cabin. It wasnext to that of her mistress, and she could hear the sick child feeblymoaning. Her eyes filled with tears--real ones this time.
"Poor little thing," she said; "I hope she won't die."
And then she threw herself on her bed, and buried her hot head in thepillow. The intelligence of the fever seemed to have terrified her. Hadthe news disarranged some well-concocted plan of hers? Being near theaccomplishment of some cherished scheme long kept in view, had thesudden and unexpected presence of disease falsified her carefully-madecalculations, and cast an almost insurmountable obstacle in her path?
"She die! and through me? How did I know that he had the fever? PerhapsI have taken it myself--I feel ill." She turned over on the bed, asif in pain, and then started to a sitting position, stung by a suddenthought. "Perhaps he might die! The fever spreads quickly, and if so,all this plotting will have been useless. It must be done at once. Itwill never do to break down now," and taking the phial from her pocket,she held it up, to see how much it contained. It was three parts full."Enough for both," she said, between her set teeth. The action ofholding up the bottle reminded her of the amorous Blunt, and she smiled."A strange way to show affection for a man," she said to herself, "andyet he doesn't care, and I suppose I shouldn't by this time. I'll gothrough with it, and, if the worst comes to the worst, I can fall backon Maurice." She loosened the cork of the phial, so that it would comeout with as little noise as possible, and then placed it carefully inher bosom. "I will get a little sleep if I can," she said. "They havegot the note, and it shall be done to-night."
CHAPTER VII. TYPHUS FEVER.
For the Term of His Natural Life Page 8