by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE CRY OF THE DUGONG.
Until the day on which the ninth sailor had died of starvation, and thetenth had been struck dead by the sea-bird, the castaways had taken anoccasional spell at the oars. They now no longer touched, nor thoughtof them. Weakness prevented them, as well as despondency. For therewas no object in continuing the toil; no land in sight, and no knowledgeof any being near. Should a ship chance to come their way, they were aslikely to be in her track lying at rest, as if engaged in laboriouslyrowing. They permitted the oars, therefore, to remain motionlessbetween the thole pins, themselves sitting listlessly on the seats, mostof them with their heads bent despairingly downward. The Malay alonekept his shining black eyes on the alert, as if despair had not yetprostrated him.
The long sultry day that saw the last of their two sailor comrades, atlength came to a close, without any change in their melancholysituation. The fierce hot sun went down into the bosom of the sea, andwas followed by the short tropic twilight. As the shades of nightclosed over them, the father, kneeling beside his children, sent up aprayer to Him who still held their lives in His hand; while Murtagh saidthe Amen; and the dark-skinned Malay, who was a Mohammedan, muttered asimilar petition to Allah. It had been their custom every night andmorning, since parting from the foundered ship, and during all theirlong-protracted perils in the pinnace.
Perhaps that evening's vesper was more fervent than those preceding it;for they felt they could not last much longer, and that all of them wereslowly, surely dying.
This night, a thing something unusual, the sky became obscured byclouds. It might be a good omen, or a bad one. If a storm, their frailboat would run a terrible risk of being swamped; but if rain shouldaccompany it, there might be a chance of collecting a little water upona tarpaulin that lay at the bottom.
As it turned out, no rain fell, though there arose what might be calleda storm. The breeze, springing up at an early hour of the day,commenced increasing after sunset.
It was the first of any consequence they had encountered since taking tothe boat; and it blew right in the direction whither they intendedsteering.
With the freshening of the wind, as it came cool upon his brow, thecastaway captain seemed to become inspired with a slight hope. It wasthe same with Murtagh and the Malay.
"If we only had a sail," muttered the captain, with a sigh.
"Sail, cappen--lookee talpolin!" said Saloo, speaking in "pigeonEnglish," and pointing to the tarpaulin in the bottom of the boat. "Whyno him makee sail?"
"Yis, indade; why not?" questioned the Irishman.
"Comee, Multa! you help me; we step one oal--it makee mass--we lig himup little time."
"All roight, Sloo," responded Murtagh, leaning over and seizing one ofthe oars, while the Malay lifted the tarpaulin from where it lay foldedup, and commenced shaking the creases out of it.
With the dexterity of a practised sailor, Murtagh soon had the oarupright, and its end "stepped," between two ribs of the boat, and firmlylashed to one of the strong planks that served as seats. Assisted bythe captain himself, the tarpaulin was bent on, and with a "sheet"attached to one corner rigged sail-fashion. In an instant it caught thestiff breeze, and bellied out; when the pinnace feeling the impulse,began to move rapidly through the water, leaving in her wake a stream ofsparkling phosphorescence that looked like liquid fire.
They had no compass, and therefore could not tell the exact direction inwhich they were being carried. But a yellowish streak on the horizon,showing where the sun had set, was still lingering when the wind beganto freshen, and as it was one of those steady, regular winds, thatendure for hours without change, they could by this means guess at thedirection--which was toward that part of the horizon where the yellowishspot had but lately faded out; in short, toward the west.
Westward from the place where the cyclone had struck the ship, lay thegreat island of Borneo. They knew it to be the nearest land, and forthis had they been directing the boat's course ever since theirdisaster. The tarpaulin now promised to bring them nearer to it in onenight, than their oars had done with days of hopeless exertion.
It was a long twelve-hour night; for under the "Line"--and they wereless than three degrees from it--the days and nights are equal. Butthroughout all its hours, the wind continued to blow steadily from thesame quarter; and the spread tarpaulin, thick and strong, caught everypuff of it acting admirably. It was, in fact, as much canvas as thepinnace could well have carried on such a rough sea-breeze, and servedas a storm-try sail to run her before the wind.
Captain Redwood himself held charge of the tiller; and all were cheeredwith the fine speed they were making--their spirits rising in proportionto the distance passed over. Before daylight came to add to theircheerfulness, they must have made nearly a hundred miles; but ere theday broke, a sound fell upon their ears that caused a commotion amongthem--to all giving joy. It came swelling over the dark surface of thedeep, louder than the rush of the water or the whistling of the wind.It resembled a human voice; and although like one speaking in agony,they heard it with joy. There was hope in the proximity of humanbeings, for though these might be in trouble like themselves, they couldnot be in so bad a state. They might be in danger from the storm; butthey would be strong and healthy--not thirsting skeletons like theoccupants of the pinnace.
"What do you think it is, captin?" asked the Irishman. "Moight it besome ship in disthriss?"
Before the captain could reply, the sound came a second time over thewaters, with a prolonged wail, like the cry of a suffering sinner on hisdeath-bed.
"The _dugong_!" exclaimed Saloo, this time recognising the melancholynote, so like to the voice of a human being.
"It is," rejoined Captain Redwood. "It's that, and nothing more."
He said this in a despairing tone, for the dugong, which is the_manatee_, or sea-cow of the Eastern seas, could be of no service tothem; on the contrary, its loud wailings spoke of danger--these beingthe sure precursors of a storm. [Note 1.]
To him and Murtagh, the presence of this strange cetaceous animal gaveno relief; and, after hearing its call, they sank back to their seats,relapsing into the state of half despondency, half hopefulness, fromwhich it had startled them.
Not so with Saloo, who better understood its habits. He knew they wereamphibious, and that, where the dugong was found, land could not be along way off. He said this, once more arousing his companions by hiswords to renewed expectancy.
The morning soon after broke, and they beheld boldly outlined againstthe fast-clearing sky the blue mountains of Borneo.
"Land!" was the cry that came simultaneously from their lips.
"Land--thank the Lord!" continued the American skipper, in a tone ofpious gratitude; and as his pinnace, still obedient to the breeze andspread tarpaulin, forged on toward it, he once more knelt down in thebottom of the boat, caused his children to do the same, and offered up aprayer--a fervent thanksgiving to the God alike of land and sea, who wasabout to deliver him and his from the "dangers of the deep."
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Note 1. We are unwilling to interrupt the course of our narrative bydisquisitions on subjects of natural history, and, therefore, relegateto a note the following particulars about the dugong. This strangemammal belongs to a genus of the family _Manatidae_, or HerbivorousCetacea. The species of which a member was discovered by our castaways,is the _Halicore Indicus_, or dugong of the Indian Archipelago; and, aswe have said, is never found very far from land. Its dentitionresembles, in some respects, that of the elephant; and from thestructure of its digestible organs it can eat only vegetable food; thatis, the _algae_, or weeds, growing on submarine rocks in shallow water.When it comes to the surface to breathe, it utters a peculiar cry, likethe lowing of a cow. Its length, when full-grown, is said to be twentyfeet, but few individuals seem to exceed twelve feet. In its generalappearance it is very much like the _manatee_, or
manatus, which hauntsthe mouths of the great South American rivers.