CHAPTER SEVEN.
ADRIFT ON THE SEA.
"You are ill, Will Ward," was Dick Darvall's first remark when there wassufficient daylight to distinguish faces.
"You're another!" was the cabin-boy's quick, facetious retort, whichcaused Darvall to smile and had the effect of rousing the half-sleepingcrew.
"But you _are_ ill, my boy," repeated the seaman earnestly.
"No, Dick, not exactly ill," returned Will, with a faint smile, "but I'mqueer."
Each man had spent that stormy night on the particular thwart on whichhe had chanced to sit down when he first entered the boat, so that allwere looking more or less weary, but seamen are used to uncomfortableand interrupted slumbers. They soon roused themselves and began to lookabout and make a few comments on the weather. Some, recurring naturallyto their beloved indulgence, pulled out their pipes and filled them.
"Have 'ee a light, Jim?" asked a rugged man, in a sleepy tone, of acomrade behind him.
"No, Jack, I haven't" answered Jim, in a less sleepy tone, slapping allhis pockets and thrusting his hands into them.
"Have _you_, Dick?" asked the rugged man in some anxiety.
"No, I haven't," replied Darvall, in a very serious voice, as he alsotook to slapping his pockets; "no--nor baccy!"
It was curious to note at this point how every seaman in that boatbecame suddenly sympathetic and wide awake, and took to hasty, anxiousexamination of all his pockets--vest jacket, and trousers. The resultwas the discovery of a good many clay pipes, more or less blackened andshortened, with a few plugs of tobacco, but not a single match, eitherfusee or congreve. The men looked at each other with something akin todespair.
"Was no matches putt on board wi' the grub an' other things?" asked Jimin a solemn tone.
"And no tobacco?" inquired the mate.
No one could answer in the affirmative. A general sigh--like aminiature squall--burst from the sailors, and relieved them a little.Jim put his pipe between his lips, and meekly began, if we may say so,to smoke his tobacco dry. At an order from the mate the men got out theoars and began to pull, for there was barely enough wind to fill thesail.
"No rest for us, lads, 'cept when it blows," said the mate. "Thenearest land that I know of is five hundred miles off as the crow flies.We've got a compass by good luck, so we can make for it, but the grubon board won't hold out for quarter o' that distance, so, unless we fallin with a ship, or fish jump aboard of us, ye know what's before us."
"Have we any spirits aboard?" asked the rugged man, in a growling,somewhat sulky, voice.
"Hear--hear!" exclaimed Jim.
"No, Jack," returned the mate; "at least not for the purpose o' lettin'you have a short life an' a merry one. Now, look here, men: it haspleased Providence to putt you an' me in something of a fix, and Ishouldn't wonder if we was to have some stiffish experiences before wesee the end of it. It has also pleased Providence to putt me here incommand. You know I'm not given to boastin', but there are times whenit is advisable to have plain speakin'. There _is_ a small supply ofspirits aboard, and I just want to tell 'ee--merely as a piece of usefulinformation, and to prevent any chance o' future trouble--that as I'vegot charge o' them spirits I mean to _keep_ charge of 'em."
The mate spoke in a low, soft voice, without the slightest appearance ofthreat or determination in his manner, but as he concluded he unbuttonedhis pilot-cloth coat and pointed to the butt of a revolver whichprotruded from one of his vest pockets.
The men made no reply, but instinctively glanced at the two biggest andstrongest men in the boat. These were Charlie Brooke and Dick Darvall.Obviously, before committing themselves further, they wished, ifpossible, to read in the faces of these two what they thought of themate's speech. They failed to read much, if anything at all, forCharlie's eyes were fixed in dreamy expressionless abstraction on thehorizon, and Dick was gazing up into the clouds, with a look of intensebenignity--suggesting that he was holding pleasant intercourse with anycelestial creatures who might be resident there.
Without a word the whole crew bent to their oars, and resignedthemselves to the inevitable. Perhaps if each man had expressed histrue feelings at that moment he would have said that he was glad to knowthere was a firm hand at the helm. For there are few things moreuncomfortable in any community, large or small, than the absence ofdiscipline, or the presence of a weak will in a position of power.
"But I say, Will," remarked Darvall, who pulled the stroke-oar, "youreally do look ill. Is anything the matter with 'ee?"
"Nothin', Dick; 'cept that I'm tired," answered the cabin-boy.
"Breakfast will put that right" said our hero in an encouraging tone."Let's feel your pulse. Hm. Well, might be slower. Come, Captain," headded, giving the mate his new title as he turned to him, "will youallow me to prescribe breakfast for this patient?"
"Certainly, Doctor," returned the mate cheerily. "Come, lads, we'll allhave breakfast together."
In a few minutes the biscuit and salt junk barrels were opened, and themate measured out an exactly equal proportion of food to each man.Then, following the example of a celebrated commander, and in order toprevent dissatisfaction on the part of any with his portion, he causedone of the men to turn his back on the food, and, pointing to one of theportions said, "Who shall have this?"
"The Doctor, sir," returned the man promptly.
The portion was immediately handed to Charlie Brooke amid a generallaugh.
Thus every portion was disposed of, and the men sat down to eat in goodhumour, in spite of the too evident fact that they had been at onceplaced on short allowance, for, when each had finished, he assuredlywished for more, though no one ventured to give expression to the wish.
The only exception was the little cabin-boy, who made a brave attempt toeat, but utterly failed at the second mouthful.
"Come, Will," said Charlie in a kindly tone, pretending to misunderstandthe state of matters, "don't try to deceive yourself by prolonging yourbreakfast. That won't make more of it. See, here, I'm not up to eatingmuch to-day, somehow, so I'll be greatly obliged if you will dispose ofhalf of mine as well as your own. Next time I am hungry, and you arenot, I'll expect you to do the same."
But Will Ward could not be thus induced to eat. He was really ill, andbefore night was in a high fever. You may be sure that Dr Brooke, asevery one now called him, did his best to help the little sufferer, but,of course, he could do very little, for all the medicines which he hadprepared had been put into the long-boat, and, in a small open boat withno comforts, no medicines, and on short allowance of food, little couldbe done, except to give the boy a space of the floor on which to lie, toshield him from spray, and to cover him with blankets.
For a week the boat was carried over the sea by a fresh, steady breeze,during which time the sun shone out frequently, so that things seemednot so wretched as one might suppose to the shipwrecked mariners. Ofcourse the poor cabin-boy was an exception. Although his feverishattack was a slight one he felt very weak and miserable after it. Hisappetite began to return, however, and it was evident that the shortdaily allowance would be insufficient for him. When this point wasreached Dick Darvall one day, when rations were being served out,ventured to deliver an opinion.
"Captain and mates all," he said, while a sort of bashful smile playedupon his sunburnt features, "it do seem to me that we should agree, eachman, to give up a share of our rations to little Will Ward, so that hemay be able to feed up a bit an' git the better o' this here sickness.We won't feel the want of such a little crumb each, an' he'll be ever somuch the better for it."
"Agreed," chorused the men, apparently without exception.
"All right, lads," said the mate, while a rare smile lighted up for amoment his usually stern countenance; "when the need for suchself-denial comes I'll call on ye to exercise it, but it ain't calledfor yet, because I've been lookin' after the interests o' Will Wardwhile he's been ill. Justice, you see, stands first o' the virtues inmy mind, an' it's my
opinion that it wouldn't be justice, but somethingvery much the reverse, if we were to rob the poor boy of his victualsjust because he couldn't eat them."
"Right you are, sir," interposed Dick Darvall.
"Well, then, holdin' these views," continued the mate, "I have put asideWill Ward's share every time the rations were served, so here's whatbelongs to him--in this keg for the meat, and this bag for the biscuit--ready for him to fall-to whenever his twist is strong enough."
There were marks of hearty approval, mingled with laughter, among themen on hearing this, but they stopped abruptly and listened for more onobserving a perplexed look on their leader's face.
"But there's something that puzzles me about it, lads," resumed themate, "and it is this, that the grub has somehow accumulated faster thanI can account for, considering the smallness o' the addition to the loteach time."
On hearing this the men were a little surprised, but Charlie Brookeburst into a short laugh.
"What!" he exclaimed, "you don't mean to say that the victuals havetaken root and begun to grow, do you?"
"I don't mean to _say_ anything," returned the mate quietly; "but I'minclined to _think_ a good deal if you've no objection, Doctor."
"How d'ee feel now, Will?" said Charlie, stooping forward at the moment,for he observed that the boy--whose bed was on the floor at his feet--had moved, and was gazing up at him with eyes that seemed to have grownenormously since their owner fell sick.
"I feel queer--and--and--I'm inclined to _think_, too," returned Will ina faint voice.
Nothing more was said at that time, for a sudden shift in the windnecessitated a shift of the sail, but Dick Darvall nodded his headsignificantly, and it came to be understood that "Doctor" Brooke hadregularly robbed himself of part of his meagre allowance in order toincrease the store of the cabin-boy. Whether they were right in thisconjecture has never been distinctly ascertained. But all attempts tobenefit the boy were soon after frustrated, for, while life was littlemore than trembling in the balance with Will Ward, a gale burst uponthem which sealed his fate.
It was not the rougher motion of the boat that did it, for the boy wasused to that; nor the flashing of the salt spray inboard, for hiscomrades guarded him to some extent from that. During the alarm causedby a wave which nearly swamped the boat two of the crew in their panicseized the first things that came to hand and flung them overboard toprevent their sinking, while the rest baled with cans and sou'-westersfor their lives. The portion of lading thus sacrificed turned out to bethe staff of life--the casks of biscuit and pork!
It was a terrible shock to these unfortunates when the full extent ofthe calamity was understood, and the firmness of the mate, with a sightof the revolvers alone prevented summary vengeance being executed on thewretched men who had acted so hastily in their blind terror.
Only a small keg of biscuit remained to them. This was soon expended,and then the process of absolute starvation began. Every nook andcranny of the boat was searched again and again in the hope of somethingeatable being found, but only a small pot of lard--intended probably togrease the tackling--was discovered. With a dreadful expression intheir eyes some of the men glared at it, and there would, no doubt, havebeen a deadly struggle for it if the mate had not said, "Fetch it here,"in a voice which none dared to disobey.
It formed but a mouthful to each, yet the poor fellows devoured it withthe greed of ravening wolves, and carefully licked their fingers when itwas done. The little cabin-boy had three portions allotted to him,because Charlie Brooke and Dick Darvall added their allowance to hiswithout allowing him to be aware of the fact.
But the extra allowance and kindness, although they added greatly to hiscomfort, could not stay the hand of Death. Slowly but surely theDestroyer came and claimed the young life. It was a sweet, calm eveningwhen the summons came. The sea was like glass, with only that long,gentle swell which tells even in the profoundest calm of Ocean'sinstability. The sky was intensely blue, save on the western horizon,where the sun turned it into gold. It seemed as if all Nature werequietly indifferent to the sufferings of the shipwrecked men, some ofwhom had reached that terrible condition of starvation when all thesofter feelings of humanity seem dead, for, although no whisper of theirintention passed their lips, their looks told all too plainly that theyawaited the death of the cabin-boy with impatience, that they mightappease the intolerable pangs of hunger by resorting to cannibalism.
Charlie Brooke, who had been comforting the dying lad all day, andwhispering to him words of consolation from God's book from time totime, knew well what those looks meant. So did the mate, who sat grim,gaunt and silent at his post, taking no notice apparently of what wenton around him. Fortunately the poor boy was too far gone to observe thelooks of his mates.
There was a can of paraffin oil, which had been thrown into the boatunder the impression that it was something else. This had been avoidedhitherto by the starving men, who deemed it to be poisonous. Thatevening the man called Jim lost control of himself, seized the can, andtook a long draught of the oil. Whether it was the effect of that wecannot tell, but it seemed to drive him mad, for no sooner had heswallowed it than he uttered a wild shout, drew his knife, sprang up andleaped towards the place where the cabin-boy lay.
The mate, who had foreseen something of the kind, drew and levelled hisrevolver, but before he could fire Charlie had caught the uplifted arm,wrested the knife from the man, and thrust him violently back. Thusfoiled Jim sprang up again and with a maniac's yell leaped into the sea,and swam resolutely away.
Even in their dire extremity the sailors could not see a comrade perishwith indifference. They jumped up, hastily got out the oars, and pulledafter him, but their arms were very weak; before they could overtake himthe man had sunk to rise no more.
It was while this scene was being enacted that the spirit of thecabin-boy passed away. On ascertaining that he was dead Charlie coveredhim with a tarpaulin where he lay, but no word was uttered by any one,and the mate, with revolver still in hand, sat there--grim and silent--holding the tiller as if steering, and gazing sternly on the horizon.Yet it was not difficult to divine the thoughts of those unhappy andsorely tried men. Some by their savage glare at the cover thatconcealed the dead body showed plainly their dreadful desires. Brooke,Darvall, and the mate showed as clearly by their compressed lips andstern brows that they would resist any attempt to gratify these.
Suddenly the mate's brow cleared, and his eyes opened wide as hemuttered, under his breath, "A sail!"
"A sail! a sail!" shrieked the man in the bow at the same moment, as heleaped up and tried to cheer, but he only gasped and fell back in aswoon into a comrade's arms.
It was indeed a sail, which soon grew larger, and ere long a ship wasdescried bearing straight towards them before a very light breeze. Inless than an hour the castaways stood upon her deck--saved.