"At sea once more!" said Will Osten in a meditative mood.
Our hero made this remark one night to himself, which was overheard and
replied to by his friend, Captain Dall, in a manner that surprised him.
"It's my opinion, doctor," said the captain in a low voice, "that this
is the last time you or I will ever be at sea, or anywhere else, if our
skipper don't look better after his men, for a more rascally crew I
never set eyes on, and, from a word or two I have heard dropped now and
then, I feel sure some mischief is in the wind. Come aft with me to a
place where we ain't so likely to be overheard by eavesdroppers, and
I'll tell you all about it."
Will Osten was so much astonished at his friend's remark, that he
followed him to the after part of the ship without uttering a word, and
there sat down on the taffrail to listen to what he had to communicate.
There was no moon in the clear sky, and the hosts of stars that studded
the dark vault overhead did not shed any appreciable light on the waters
of the Pacific, on which the _Rover_ floated almost motionless. That
beautiful and mysterious phosphorescence which sometimes illumines the
sea was gleaming in vivid flashes in the vessel's wake, and a glowing
trail of it appeared to follow the rudder like a serpent of lambent
fire.
It was one of those calm, peaceful nights in which God seems to draw
nearer than usual to the souls of His creatures. The only sounds that
broke the profound stillness were the pattering of reef-points on the
sails as the vessel rose and sank gently on the oily swell; the measured
tread of the officer of the watch, and the humming of the man at the
wheel, as he stood idly at his post, for the vessel had scarcely
steering-way.
"Doctor," said Captain Dall in a low whisper, taking Will Osten by the
button-hole and bending forward until his eyes were close to those of
his young friend, "I little thought when I set sail from England that,
in a few weeks after, my good ship the _Foam_ would come a wreck an'
sink to the bottom of the Pacific before my eyes. Still less did I
think that I should be cast on a coral island, have to fight like a
naked savage, and be saved at last by missionaries from being roasted
and eaten. Yet all this has happened within a few months."
At any other time Will Osten would have smiled at the solemn manner in
which this was said, but there was something in the hour, and also in
the tone of his friend's voice, which tended to repress levity and raise
a feeling of anxiety in his mind.
"Well, captain," he said, "what has this to do with the present evil
that you seem to apprehend?"
"To do with it, lad? nothing--'xcept that it reminds me that we little
know what is in store for us. Here are we becalmed--three day's sail
from the coral island, where the niggers were so near converting us into
cooked victuals, and I wouldn't at this minute give twopence in security
for the life of any one on board the _Rover_."
"Why, what mean you?" asked Will, with increasing perplexity. "Some of
the crew are bad enough, no doubt, but many of them are evidently good
men--what is it that you fear?"
"Fear! why, there's everything to fear," said the captain in a
suppressed but excited whisper, drawing still closer to his friend.
"I've often sailed in these seas, and I know that while some of the
traders sailing between these islands and South America and other parts
are decentish enough, others are as great cut-throats as ever deserved
to swing at the yard-arm. But that's not the point. I have overheard,
of late, some of the rascals plotting to murder the officers and take
this ship. But I cannot point 'em out, for though I heard their voices
I couldn't see their faces. I think I know who they are, but could not
swear to 'em, and it would be worse than useless to denounce them till
we have some evidence to go on. I therefore want you to help me with
your advice and assistance, so that we may get up a counterplot to spoil
their fun--for I'm quite certain that if we fail to--hark! what's that?"
Will did not answer, but both listened intently to the sound which had
interrupted Captain Dall's discourse. It was evident that the officer
and men of the watch had also heard it, for they, too, had ceased to
walk to and fro, and their figures could be dimly seen in a listening
attitude at the gangway.
For several minutes they listened without hearing anything--then a
hoarse, guttural shout broke the stillness of the night for a few
seconds and died away. The men looked at each other, and some of the
more superstitious among them grew pale. Again the cry was repeated,
somewhat nearer, and again all was still. Some of the oldest hands in
the watch stood transfixed and powerless with terror. They would have
faced death in any form manfully, but this mysterious sound unnerved
them!
The officer of the watch went down to report it to Captain Blathers, who
immediately came on deck. Just as he appeared, the cry was repeated and
a slight splash was heard.
"Some one in distress," cried Captain Blathers promptly; "a crew for the
starboard quarter-boat to pick him up. Stand by to lower. Be smart,
lads!"
These words, heartily uttered, put superstitious fears to flight at
once. The men threw off their jackets; the boat was lowered, and in a
few minutes was pulling about and searching in all directions. Our hero
was one of the first to leap into her, and he pulled the bow oar. For
some time they rowed about in vain. The night was intensely dark, and
the cry was not repeated, so that they had nothing to guide them in
their movements. A lantern was fixed in the ship half way up the mizzen
rigging, but the lantern in the boat was concealed until the moment when
it should be required, because it is easier for men to distinguish
surrounding objects in comparative darkness than when a light is glaring
near them. Presently Will Osten saw a dark object like a small canoe
right ahead of the boat.
"Back water--all!" he shouted.
The men obeyed, but it was too late; the boat struck the object, and
overturned it. Will saw something like a human form roll into the
water, and heard a gurgling cry. Without a moment's hesitation he
leaped overboard, head foremost, and catching hold of the object,
brought it to the surface. He remembered at that moment having heard of
a fact which is worth stating here. The best way to save a drowning man
is to approach him from behind, seize him under the armpits, and, then,
getting on your back, draw him partly on to your breast and swim _on
your back_ to the shore, or to a place of safety. Thought is quicker
than the lightning flash. Will could not, of course, carry out this
plan fully, nevertheless the memory of it served him in good stead, for,
the instant he caught the drowning man by the hair, he kept him at arm's
length, and thus avoided his death-clutch until he could grasp him under
the armpits _from behind_, and thus render him powerless. He then rose
and drew him gently upon his breast, at the same time striking out with
his feet and shouting--
"Bear a hand, lads--I've got him!"
A loud "hurrah!" burst from the men in the boat, and was re-echoed
vehemently from the ship. They had overshot the spot only by a few
yards. Instantly they pulled round: two strokes brought them to the
spot where Will was swimming, and in another moment our hero and the
rescued man were hauled into the boat. The men gave vent to another
loud and prolonged cheer, which was again replied to from the ship.
The boat was soon alongside, and the rescued man, who proved to be a man
of colour in a very emaciated and exhausted condition, was hoisted on
board. His story was soon told. He was not a native of the islands,
but had been living on one of them, and had gone off to fish in a canoe,
when a gale sprang up and blew him out to sea. Four days and nights had
he been exposed to the storm in his frail bark, without food or water,
and was on the point of perishing when the ship chanced to pass near
him. The utterance of the cry which had attracted attention, was almost
the last effort of which he was capable. He spoke a little broken
English, having learnt it while serving on board of an English trading
vessel. His name, he said, was Bunco, and a fine powerful-looking
fellow he was, despite the sad condition to which he had been reduced.
His shoulders, and indeed most parts of his body, were blistered by the
continual washing of the sea over him, and when he was lifted on board
his skin was icy cold. Had he not been a man of iron mould, he must
certainly have perished. The poor fellow was at once taken into the
cabin and carefully attended to. He was first bathed in fresh water,
then rolled in blankets, and a tumbler of hot wine and water
administered, which greatly revived him, and soon caused him to fall
into a sound sleep.
Whether it was that this incident softened the hearts of the seamen for
a time, or that their plans were not yet ripe for execution, we cannot
tell, but certain it is that nothing whatever occurred to justify
Captain Dall's suspicions for several weeks after that.