At length, however, the inevitable change came; the wind died away to a
breathless calm; the ocean took on the semblance of a sea of gently
undulating glass; and the hitherto cloudless sky imperceptibly lost its
intensity of blue as a thin, streaky haze gradually veiled it, through
which the sun shone feebly, a rayless disc of throbbing white fire. The
heat and closeness of the atmosphere were intense, even on deck, while
the temperature below was practically unendurable. The brig lost
steerage-way about two o'clock in the afternoon; and when the sun sank
beneath the western horizon that night, looming through the haze red as
blood, distorted in shape, and magnified to thrice his normal
dimensions, there was little if any perceptible change in the
atmospheric conditions, although the mercury in the barometer had been
falling slowly but steadily all day.
The brig was now within the tropic of Capricorn, and not very far to the
eastward of the Paumotu Archipelago, in which region night succeeds day
with such astounding rapidity that the stars become visible within ten
minutes of the sun's disappearance. Yet no stars appeared on this
particular night; on the contrary, a darkness that could be felt settled
down upon the brig almost with the suddenness of a drawn curtain. The
darkness was as profound as that of the interior of a coal-mine; it was
literally impossible to see one's hand held close to one's eyes; and
movement about the deck was accomplished blindly and gropingly, with
hands outspread to avoid collision with the most familiar objects, whose
positions could now be only roughly guessed at. And the silence was as
profound as the darkness; for the swell had subsided with almost
startling rapidity, and the brig was so nearly motionless that there was
none of the creaking of timbers or spars, none of the "cheeping" of
blocks and gear that is usually to be heard under such circumstances.
Even the men forward were silent, as though they were waiting and
listening for something, they knew not what. So intense was the silence
that even the striking of a match to light a pipe became almost
startling; while its tiny flame burnt steadily and without a semblance
of wavering in the stagnant air.
Gradually, however, a subtle and portentous change took place. The
darkness slowly became less intense, giving place to a lurid ruddy
twilight that appeared to emanate from the clouds, for by imperceptible
degrees they grew visible and became streaked and blotched with patches
of red that suggested the idea of their being on fire within, the
incandescence showing through here and there in the thinner parts. This
red light grew and spread until the whole surface of the sky was aglow
with it; and it was an uncanny experience to stand on the stern grating,
close up to the taffrail, and look forward along the brig's deck to her
bows, and note every detail of the craft and her equipment showing
distinctly and black as ebony against that weird background of red-hot
sky and its ruddy reflection in the polished surface of the water.
Leslie scarcely knew what to make of this lowering and portentously
illuminated sky. He had never seen anything quite like it before; but
he instinctively felt that it foreboded mischief; and he accordingly
kept a sharp eye on the barometer. It was still falling, and now with
considerably greater rapidity than at first. At eight bells in the
second dog-watch he came to the conclusion that the time for action had
arrived; and before allowing the watch to go below he ordered everything
to be clewed up and furled, leaving only the fore staysail standing.
Then he settled himself down to wait doggedly for developments,
determined not to leave the deck until a breeze had come from
_somewhere_. For he had a suspicion that when it arrived, it would
prove to be something stronger than ordinary; and he wanted to satisfy
himself as to the manner in which his jury rig would withstand such an
outburst as appeared to be impending.
Hour after hour went by, however, and nothing happened; until at length
Miss Trevor, whose stay on deck had been unusually prolonged by
curiosity--and perhaps a dash of apprehension--bade Leslie good night
and retired to her cabin, the port of which he particularly requested
her to keep closed, despite the stifling heat. At length the strange
and alarming glow in the heavens faded as imperceptibly as it had come,
until the darkness had become as intense as before; and Leslie was
beginning to think that after all nothing was going to happen, when the
whole scene became suddenly illuminated by a vivid flash of sheet
lightning that for an infinitesimal fraction of a second seemed to set
the entire visible firmament ablaze, and caused every detail of the
brig's hull and equipment to imprint a clear and perfectly distinct
picture of itself upon the retina. They all listened for thunder, but
none came. Suddenly, however, a few heavy drops of rain pattered upon
the deck, and an instant later down came a perfect deluge with the sound
of millions of small shot roaring and rattling on the deck and hissing
into the sea. The rain ceased as suddenly as it had come, as suddenly
as the flow of water is stopped by the turning of a tap; and for about a
quarter of an hour nothing further happened. Then the sheet lightning
began to quiver and flicker among the clouds once more; and presently
the pall immediately overhead was rent apart by a terrific flash of
sun-bright lightning that struck straight down and seemed to hit the
water only a few yards from the brig. Simultaneously with the flash
came a crackling crash of thunder of absolutely appalling intensity; and
before its echoes had died away another flash, and another, and another,
tore athwart the heavens; until within the space of less than a minute
the entire vault of heaven was ablaze with flickering and flashing
lightnings, steel blue, baleful green, rosy red, and dazzling white,
accompanied by a continuous crash and roar of thunder that was both
deafening and terrifying. This tremendous manifestation continued for
about ten minutes, when down came the rain again, in an even fiercer
deluge than before; and in the very midst of it, while the thunder still
crashed and boomed overhead, and the rain descended in such sheets and
masses that everybody gasped for breath, as though drowning, away came
the wind with a howling scream that in an instant drowned even the sound
of the thunder. It struck the brig flat aback; and had she happened to
have had any of her square canvas set she must undoubtedly have
foundered stern first. As it was, Leslie, who happened to be the only
man near the wheel, sprang to it and put the helm hard over, causing her
to pay off as she gathered stern-way, and thus saving the craft. But
even as he stood there, in the very act of putting the helm over, a
crash reached his ears out of the midst of the terrific hubbub; he was
conscious of receiving a violent blow on the head; and then he knew no
more.
When Leslie again recovered consciousness, his first distinct sensation
was that of racking, sickening, splitting headache, accompanied by a
feeling of acute soreness and smarting. He also felt dazed, confused,
and harassed by a vague but intense anxiety about something, he knew not
what. Then he became aware that he was lying recumbent on his back,
with his head propped high by pillows; and presently he also became
aware that his head was heavily swathed in bandages. He stirred
uneasily, and attempted to put his hand to his head; but was shocked to
find that his hand and arm felt heavy as lead, so heavy, indeed, that
after a feeble effort he abandoned the attempt. As he did so, a
fluttering sigh, and a whispered "Oh, thank God; thank God!" fell upon
his ear; a handkerchief saturated with eau-de-cologne was applied to his
nostrils; and, as in a dream, he heard a voice murmur--
"Are you better, Mr Leslie? Tell me that you are feeling better."
Feeling better! Had he been ill, then? He supposed he must have been;
otherwise, why was he lying there--wherever he might be--on his back,
with his head bandaged and racked with pain, and with no strength in
him? Ill! of course he was; every nerve in his body bore testimony to
the fact. But where was he? what was the matter with him? and whose was
this gentle, tender voice--that somehow seemed so familiar--that
questioned him? Everything was vague, confused, and incomprehensible,
with a dominating impression that there was pressing, urgent need for
him to be up and attending to something without an instant's delay.
As he lay there, painfully cogitating in a vain endeavour to disentangle
the threads of mingled thought that seemed to be inextricably wound
together in his throbbing, struggling brain, two warm drops splashed
upon his face, and the same low voice that he had heard before, cried--
"Spare him, O God; spare him; have mercy!" and the handkerchief was
again applied to his nostrils.
The tide of life ebbed back for a moment; he again sank into oblivion;
and presently revived to the consciousness that soft arms were
supporting him--arms that quivered and shook with the violent sobbing
that fell upon his ears--while a shower of hot tears bathed his face.
And then, all in an instant, recollection, vivid, intense, complete,
came to him, and he opened his eyes.
For a moment he could see nothing. Then he became aware that the sun
was streaming brilliantly in through the open port-hole near the head of
his bunk, while a soft, warm, yet refreshing breeze was playing about
his temples; and that Miss Trevor was bending over him with streaming
eyes that gazed down upon him wild with anxiety and grief.
"Why, what is this? what is the matter? and why am I lying here idle
when I ought to be on deck looking after the ship?" he murmured,
attempting at the same time to rise.
But the imprisoning arms held him firmly down; the streaming eyes met
his in an intensity of gaze that seemed to devour him; and the tender
voice gain cried with indescribable fervour--
"Thank God; oh, thank God for this great mercy! You _are_ alive! And
you will continue to live. Yes, you _must_ live; promise me that you
will. Here; drink this, quickly." And she held to his lips a tumbler
containing a liquid that, pungent to the taste, at once revived him.
"Thanks; a thousand thanks!" murmured Leslie, gratefully. "I feel
better now. Please let me get up; I must go on deck at once."
"No; no, you must not; indeed you must not; there is no need," answered
Miss Trevor; and Leslie thought he detected a tone of sadness mingled
with relief in the accents of her voice.
"No need?" ejaculated Leslie; "but indeed there _is_ need--" and then he
paused abruptly; for it had suddenly dawned upon him that the brig had a
distinct list to port, and that she was _motionless_; not with the
buoyant motionlessness of a ship afloat in a calm, but with the absolute
absence of all movement characteristic of a ship in dry dock, or
_stranded_!
"Good heavens! what has happened?" he ejaculated. "Tell me, please, at
once!" and he again attempted to rise.
But again his self-constituted nurse restrained him.
"Oh, please, _please_, do not move," she entreated. "You _must_ obey
me, now; or you will _never_ get better. I will tell you everything;
but indeed you must not attempt to rise; for, as I said just now, there
is no need. The ship is quite safe; I am sure that nothing further can
happen to her, at least not for some time to come; and long ere that
time arrives you will, please God, be well again, and in a fit state to
do whatever seems best to you."
"Nevertheless," answered Leslie, "I should like to see the carpenter, if
you will have the goodness to call him to me. I perceive that the brig
is ashore--though _where_, I have not the remotest notion; and he will
be able to tell me, far more clearly than you can, exactly what has
happened."
The girl leaned over Leslie, and looked down at him with eyes full of
trouble.
"Mr Leslie," she said, the tears welling up into her eyes again, "I
must ask you to prepare yourself to hear bad news--very bad and very
_sad_ news. I cannot bring the carpenter to you; I cannot bring him, or
any other of the crew to you; for, my poor friend, you and I--and
Sailor--are the only living beings left on board this most unfortunate
ship!"
"You and I--the only people left aboard?" gasped Leslie. "Then, in
Heaven's name, what has become of the real?"
"I cannot tell you--I do not know," answered the girl. "But if you will
let me tell my story in my own way, I have no doubt that your knowledge
of seafaring matters will enable you to judge with sufficient accuracy
just what has happened.
"You will remember, perhaps, that on the night before last there was a
terribly violent storm of lightning and thunder--"
"The night _before last_?" interrupted Leslie. "You mean _last_ night,
surely?"
"No," answered Miss Trevor; "I mean the night before last. You have
lain here unconscious nearly thirty-six hours."
"Thirty-six hours!" ejaculated Leslie, with a groan. "Well, go on,
please."
"That storm," continued Miss Trevor, "was so violent and terrifying that
I found it not only impossible to sleep through it, but even to remain
in my cabin. I therefore rose, dressed, and stationed myself in the
place you call the companion, at the head of the cabin stairs where,
sheltered by the cover, I could at least watch what was going on.
Crouched there, I saw everything that happened. I saw you spring to the
wheel when the gale struck the ship; I saw you felled to the deck by the
falling mast; and I was the first to spring to your assistance and drag
you out from the midst of the tangle of ropes and broken spars. Then
the carpenter and one or two other men came running up, and they helped
me to bring you down here to your own cabin, where I have been attending
to you ever since, and striving, oh, so earnestly and so hard, to
restore you to consciousness."
"My poor, brave girl," murmured Leslie, "what courage, what devotion you
have shown!"