CRUISE OF THE SUPPLEJACK--CALMS AND HEAT--A SHARK CAUGHT--EXERCISING AT
THE GUNS--A BOAT SEEN--NEEDHAM AND ONE OF THE MISSING MIDSHIPMEN FOUND,
NEARLY DYING FROM THIRST--THEY BRING ALARMING INFORMATION.
The _Supplejack_ was making the best of her way across the Caribbean
sea. Murray, or one of his subordinates, Higson, or Jos Green usually
so called, the second master of the corvette, was ever on deck, with
watchful eyes on the bending topmasts, carrying on as much sail as the
brig could bear. Gallantly she slashed through the blue, heaving seas,
a mass of white foam rising up round her bows, and sheets of sparkling
spray flying over her forecastle. A bright look-out was kept on every
side, not in the expectation of meeting either with a slaver or pirate;
but the young commander could not help secretly hoping that he might
fall in with the _Sarah Jane_, and be relieved of his chief cause of
anxiety. His patience, however, on several occasions was sorely tried
when the wind fell light. One day, too, a perfect calm came on, and the
brig lay, her sides lapping the glassy sea, as she rolled in the
slowly-heaving, sluggish swell, and her sails flapped lazily against the
masts. In vain old Higson whistled for a wind till his cheeks were
ready to crack; not that he really believed the proceeding would produce
a breeze, or that he had any notion of the origin of the custom; but he
had always done so when there was a calm; and he wanted a wind, and the
wind, if he whistled long enough, always came. The heat was oppressive,
as it always is under such circumstances in those latitudes; the spirits
of all fell, except those of Jos Green, who was ever merry, blow high or
blow low, in sunshine or cold. The grumblers grumbled, of course, but
in lower tones than usual, like the mutterings of distant thunder; the
phlegmatic became more supine; the quarrelsome had not the energy to
dispute; the talkative were silent; and even Pat Blathermouth, who could
usually spin a yarn which lasted from the beginning to eight bells in a
watch, and then wasn't half finished, could scarcely drawl out an
oft-told tale, which was wont to make his hearers burst their sides with
laughter, but now only sent them to sleep.
"Of course it's hot," answered jolly Jos to a remark of Higson's. "What
else would you have it here in the tropics, with the bright sun striking
down from the cloudless sky? It has its advantages, and it is better
than cold, and saves one the trouble of putting on more clothing than
decency requires."
"But it may be the harbinger of another hurricane, and that wouldn't be
pleasant," observed Fligson.
"No fear of a hurricane. They seldom reach so far south," answered Jos.
"Wait patiently, and we shall get the breeze before long. If not,
what's the odds? we are very happy as we are."
"You're a salamander, or you wouldn't say that," growled Higson.
"Just the very thing of all others it's most convenient to be just now,"
answered jolly Jos, laughing. "It really isn't hotter than it has been
often before, only there are fewer hands to divide it amongst, eh? Just
do your turn in, Hig, and forget your troubles in sleep."
"I shall be stewed if I do," moaned Higson. "I've a great mind to have
a swim."
"It will be the last you'll ever take, old fellow, depend on that," said
Green. "Look there!"
He pointed to the black fin of a huge shark, which the next instant,
turning up its white belly, opened its huge mouth to swallow the
contents of the cook's slush bucket.
"See, Jack has had his soup, and will be ready for the next course,
which you proposed offering him."
"Thank you, Jos; I've changed my mind," said Higson. "But I should not
object to catch the fellow, and take a slice out of him instead."
A stout hook, with a bit of chain to the end of a strong line, and
baited with a piece of pork, was quickly got ready. Even the most
apathetic of the seamen were aroused with the hopes of capturing their
hated foe. A couple of running bowlines were prepared. Higson dropped
the tempting morsel, and let it sink down deep, then rapidly drew it up
again. Quick as lightning the shark darted at it, and down his throat
it went, his jaws closing with a snap which made Higson draw up his leg.
The monster's sharp teeth, however, could not bite through the chain.
"Haul away, lads!" cried the old mate.
While Ben Snatchblock slipped a running bowline over the creature's
head, its tail coming to the surface, he dexterously got another round
it, and, in spite of its violent struggles, it was hoisted on board.
"Stand clear of him, lads," shouted Higson, though the men did not need
the warning.
The crew seizing axes, capstan-bars, and boarding pikes, attacked the
captive monster, as it lay writhing on deck, lashing out furiously with
its tail, and every now and then opening its huge jaws, as if even then
it had hopes of catching one of its assailants. It showed what it could
do by biting off the head of a boarding-pike, which Ben thrust into its
mouth. With wild shouts the men sprang round it, rushing in, every now
and then, to give it a blow with an axe or capstan-bar, and leaping back
again to avoid its tail; for even though its head was nearly smashed in,
that continued striking out, and lashing the deck as furiously as at
first, till Higson came down on it with a well-aimed blow of his axe,
which instantly paralysed it, and it lay motionless.
"We'll make sure, lads, he don't come to life again," exclaimed Ben, as
he set to work to chop off the tail.
The head was treated in the same way; and a number of slices being cut
off the body, the remainder was thrown overboard. Murray, wondering
what the hubbub was about, had come on deck, and was an amused spectator
of the scene. The men no longer thought of the heat, and, in spite of
it, regaled themselves heartily on shark-steaks at dinner. The capture
of the shark, too, brought them good luck, they declared; for a
favourable breeze shortly afterwards sprang up, and held till the
northern coast of the South American continent was sighted. Before,
however, Carthagena, the port at which Murray had been directed to call,
first could be made, it again fell calm. He felt the delay very trying.
He had been eagerly hoping to get in by the evening, to ascertain if
anything had been heard of the _Sarah Jane_, and now another whole day
or more might pass before he could gain any information. The coast lay
in sight, its ranges of light-blue mountains looking like clouds, rising
above the horizon but proving that they were mountains by never altering
their shape or position. Higson whistled as energetically as usual, but
not a catspaw played over the surface of the mirror-like sea, and not an
inch nearer the shore did the brig move during the day. The night
passed by, and the hot sun rose once more out of the still slumbering
ocean. The day wore on, but no breeze came. The men, of course, were
not idle. Murray had from the first exercised them at their guns, and
especially in the use of the long one. He remembered the advice Admiral
Triton had given to Jack Rogers, and which Jack had repeated to him--
"Don't mind throwing a few rounds of shot away; you'll make the better
use of those you have remaining."
He, accordingly, had a floating target rigged and carried out to a
distance, and each day during a calm he exercised the men at it for some
hours, till they learnt to handle their long gun with as much ease as
the carronades.
"Though we miss that mark sometimes, we shall manage to hit a larger one
without fail if it comes in our way, my lads!" he sang out, to encourage
the crew as they were working away at it during the morning.
After dinner the men were allowed some time to rest, and all was quiet.
An observation showed that the brig's position had not altered since the
previous noon.
"What do you make that out to be, Green?" asked Higson, the officer of
the watch, who had been looking through his telescope towards the shore.
Green turned his glass in the same direction.
"A boat! and she must be coming towards us," he answered, after the
delay of a minute or so.
Higson sent him to report the circumstance to the commander, who at once
came on deck. Various were the surmises as to what could bring the boat
off to them.
"She must have had a long pull of it, at all events," observed Higson.
"Perhaps she had the land wind, which we don't feel out here?" said
Green.
"Little doubt about that. She must have some urgent cause for coming
out thus far to us," remarked Murray. "Lower the gig, Mr Higson, and
go and meet her," he added immediately afterwards. "The people in the
boat are evidently tired with their long pull, and make but slow
progress."
The gig's crew called away--she was lowered, and Higson pulled off
towards the approaching boat. Meantime, Murray walked the deck with
impatient steps. Several times he stopped, and raised his glass to his
eye, watching her eagerly. At length he saw that the gig had reached
her. The two boats were alongside each other for a minute, and then the
gig came rowing rapidly back, leaving the other behind. Murray watched
her.
"There must be something of importance to make Higson hurry back at that
rate," he said to himself. "He has brought the people from the boat, I
see."
As the gig drew nearer, he saw Higson stand up and wave his
handkerchief. In a few minutes more she was near enough for him to
distinguish those in her.
"Is it possible, or do my eyes deceive me?" he exclaimed. "There's a
lad in a midshipman's uniform. If he is not Gerald Desmond, he is
wonderfully like him."
"There can be little doubt who he is, sir," said Green, who was standing
near his commander. "If that is not Desmond I'm a Dutchman, and the man
sitting just abaft the stroke-oar is Dick Needham, who went with the
youngsters in the drogher. As they are safe, it is to be hoped the rest
escaped, too. I've often heard that midshipmen have as many lives as
cats."
"I trust, indeed, that all have been saved," said Murray, in a grave
tone. He felt too anxious to joke with Jos just then.
The gig was soon alongside, and Gerald Desmond, looking pale and
exhausted, was lifted on deck; Needham, with some help, managing to
follow him.
"I am truly thankful to see you, Desmond," said Murray, as he took the
hand of the young midshipman, who was being carried aft in the arms of
two of the sailors. "Have Tom and Archy also been saved?"
Gerald tried to reply, but no sound came from his parched throat. He
had barely strength to point with a finger to his lips. Needham was in
but little better plight, though he managed to murmur, "water--water."
Several cans-full were instantly brought by eager hands.
"Stop, lads, you'll suffocate the poor fellows if you pour all that
water down their throats!" exclaimed McTavish, the Assistant Surgeon of
the corvette, who had been lent to the _Supplejack_. "Just a
wine-glassful at a time, with a few drops of brandy in it, will be the
best thing for them."
While the surgeon was attending to his patients, Higson made his report
to the commander. He had found them both still trying to pull, but so
exhausted that they could scarcely move their oars. No sooner did he
get alongside than Desmond sank down in the bottom of the boat, unable
to speak. Needham, however, had had strength sufficient to tell him
that both the other midshipmen were alive, but prisoners on shore;
though how they got into prison he had not said.
"From what I could make out, sir, I am afraid they are not the only
English in the hands of the Spaniards, or Carthagenans, or whatever the
rascals call themselves," continued Higson. "I caught the words, `the
colonel and a young lady--and no time to be lost!' but what he wished to
say more I couldn't make out, only I cannot help thinking that he must
have alluded to the colonel and his daughter, who sailed the other day
in the brig from Antigua."
"I fear that there is no doubt about it!" exclaimed Murray, greatly
agitated. "When Needham has sufficiently recovered to speak we shall
learn more about the matter, and be able to decide what to do. Stay.
That no time may be lost, let the boats be got ready with water-casks
and provisions, and see that the crews have their cutlasses sharpened
and pistols in order. Should the calm continue I will lead an
expedition on shore, and insist on the liberation of the prisoners. The
sight of the British flag will probably put the Dons on their good
behaviour, and, if not, we must try what force can do. I will leave
you, Higson, in charge of the brig with twenty hands, and as soon as a
breeze springs up you will stand in after me, and act according to
circumstances."
"I am afraid, sir, that if the Carthagenans, or whatever they call
themselves, are threatened with force, they will retaliate on their
prisoners," observed Higson.
"Mongrels as they are, if they have a drop of Spanish blood running in
their veins, they would not surely injure a lady!" exclaimed Murray.
"Not so sure of that. Whether whole or half-blooded, Spaniards are
savage fellows when their temper's up," answered Higson. "However, let
us hope for the best. All I can make out is that our friends are
prisoners, but the why and the wherefore I don't understand; only as
Desmond and Needham were evidently in a great hurry to get off to us,
I'm afraid that they must be in some danger."
Higson's remarks contributed to make Murray feel more anxious even than
at first. The forebodings which had oppressed him since Stella and her
father left Antigua had, too, probably been realised. While Higson
issued the orders he had just received, Murray went up to where the
young midshipman and Needham had been placed under an awning, attended
by the surgeon. The cook had, meantime, been preparing some broth, a
few spoonsful of which as soon as they could swallow them, were poured
down their throats. This treatment had an almost magical effect Needham
was soon able to sit up and speak, and even Gerald, though his strength
had been more completely prostrated, recovered sufficiently soon
afterwards to give a clear account of the way they had been saved, and
of what had afterwards happened. In consequence, however, of Murray's
anxiety, they narrated the latter part of their adventures first; though
they will be better understood if they are described in their proper
sequence.