Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Castaways
By Captain Mayne Reid
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This is certainly not a very long book, being about a half to a third of
most books of this genre. It starts off with a group of people in a
ship's boat, the ship itself having foundered in a typhoon in the
Celebes sea. The ship's captain and his two children, the Irish ship's
carpenter, and the Malay pilot, are all that finally come to shore,
though when the book starts there are a body that has to be thrown
overboard, and a seaman who has gone mad and who throws himself there.
Thereafter we are introduced to one natural history topic per chapter,
be it a plant, a tree or an animal. There are various perils that have
to be overcome--the upas tree, an ourang-outang, a tree that drops its
fruit like a heavy bomb, a python, and quite a few more. Luckily they
don't meet any unfriendly Dyaks during the journey they undertake to get
from their landing-place to the town of Bruni, many hundreds of miles
away.
On the whole they are saved by the courage, knowledge and skill of the
co-hero, the Malay pilot, who is one of the best in that region with a
blow-pipe. He makes himself one, and it is just as well he did, as you
will see.
The book is well-written, and as it will only take you five hours or
less, you could probably find the time to read it. NH
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THE CASTAWAYS
BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID
CHAPTER ONE.
A CASTAWAY CREW.
A boat upon the open sea--no land in sight!
It is an open boat, the size and form showing it to be the pinnace of a
merchant-ship.
It is a tropical sea, with a fiery sun overhead, slowly coursing through
a sky of brilliant azure.
The boat has neither sail nor mast. There are oars, but no one is using
them. They lie athwart the tholes, their blades dipping in the water,
with no hand upon the grasp.
And yet the boat is not empty. Seven human forms are seen within it,--
six of them living, and one dead.
Of the living, four are full-grown men; three of them white, the fourth
of an umber-brown, or _bistre_ colour. One of the white men is tall,
dark and bearded, with features bespeaking him either a European or an
American, though their somewhat elongated shape and classic regularity
would lead to a belief that he is the latter, and in all probability a
native of New York. And so he is.
The features of the white man sitting nearest to him are in strange
contrast to his, as is also the colour of his hair and skin. The hair
is of a carroty shade, while his complexion, originally reddish, through
long exposure to a tropical sun exhibits a yellowish, freckled
appearance. The countenance so marked is unmistakably of Milesian type.
So it should be, as its owner is an Irishman.
The third white man, of thin, lank frame, with face almost beardless,
pale cadaverous cheeks, and eyes sunken in their sockets, and there
rolling wildly, is one of those nondescripts who may be English, Irish,
Scotch, or American. His dress betokens him to be a seaman, a common
sailor.
He of the brown complexion, with flat spreading nose, high cheek-bones,
oblique eyes, and straight, raven black hair, is evidently a native of
the East, a Malay.
The two other living figures in the boat are those of a boy and girl.
They are white. They differ but little in size, and but a year or two
in age, the girl being fourteen and the boy about sixteen. There is
also a resemblance in their features. They are brother and sister.
The fourth white, who lies dead in the bottom of the boat, is also
dressed in seaman's clothes, and has evidently in his lifetime been a
common sailor.
It is but a short time since the breath departed from his body; and
judging by the appearance of the others, it may not be long before they
will all follow him into another world. How weak and emaciated they
appear, as if in the last stage of starvation! The boy and girl lie
along the stern-sheets, with wasted arms, embracing each other. The
tall man sits on one of the benches, gazing mechanically upon the corpse
at his feet; while the other three also have their eyes upon it, though
with very different expressions. That upon the face of the Irishman is
of sadness, as if for the loss of an old shipmate; the Malay looks on
with the impassive tranquillity peculiar to his race; while in the
sunken orbs of the nondescript can be detected a look that speaks of a
horrible craving--the craving of cannibalism.
The scene described, and the circumstances which have led to it, call
for explanation. It is easily given. The tall dark-bearded man is
Captain Robert Redwood, the skipper of an American merchant-vessel, for
some time trading among the islands of the Indian Archipelago. The
Irishman is his ship-carpenter, the Malay his pilot, while the others
are two common sailors of his crew. The boy and girl are his children,
who, having no mother or near relatives at home, have been brought along
with him on his trading voyage to the Eastern Isles. The vessel passing
from Manilla, in the Philippines, to the Dutch settlement of Macassar,
in the island of Celebes, has been caught in a _typhoon_ and swamped
near the middle of the Celebes Sea; her crew have escaped in a boat--the
pinnace--but saved from death by drowning only to find, most of them,
the same watery grave after long-procrastinated suffering from thirst,
from hunger, from all the agonies of starvation.
One after another have they succumbed, and been thrown overboard, until
the survivors are only six in number. And these are but skeletons, each
looking as if another day, or even another hour, might terminate his
wretched existence.
It may seem strange that the youthful pair in the stern-sheets, still
but tender children, and the girl more especially, should have withstood
the terrible suffering beyond a period possible to many strong men,
tough sailors every one of them. But it is not so strange after all, or
rather after knowing that, in the struggle with starvation, youth always
proves itself superior to age, and tender childhood will live on where
manhood gives way to the weakness of inanition.
That Captain Redwood is himself one of the strongest of the survivors
may be due partly to the fact of his having a higher organism than that
of his ship-comrades. But, no doubt, he is also sustained by the
presence of the two children, his affection for them and fear for their
fate warding off despair, and so strengthening within him the principle
of vitality.
If affection has aught to do with preserving life, it is strong enough
in the Irishman to account also for the preservation of his; for
although but the carpenter in Captain Redwood's ship, he regards the
captain with a feeling almost fraternal. He had been one of his oldest
and steadiest hands, and long service has led to a fast friendship
between him and his old skipper.
On the part of the Irishman, this feeling is extended to the youthful
couple who recline, with clasped hands, along the sternmost seat of the
pinnace.
As for the Malay, thirst and hunger have also made their marks upon him;
but not as with those of Occidental race. It may be that his bronze
skin does not show so plainly the pallor of suffering; but, at all
events, he still looks lithe and life-like, supple and sinewy, as if he
could yet take a spell at the oar, and keep alive as long as skin and
bone held together. If all are destined to die in that open boat, he
will certainly be the last. He with the hollow eyes looks as if he
would be the first.
Down upon this wretched group, a picture of misery itself, shines the
hot sun of the tropics; around it, far as eye could reach, extends the
calm sea, glassed, and glancing back his lays, as though they were
reflected from a sheet of liquid fire; beneath them gleams a second
firmament through the pellucid water, a sky peopled with strange forms
that are not birds: more like are they to dragons; for among them can be
seen the horrid form of the devil-fish, and the still more hideous
figure of the hammer-headed shark. And alone is that boat above them,
seemingly suspended in the air, and only separated from these dreadful
monsters by a few feet of clear water, through which they can dart with
the speed of electricity. Alone, with no land in sight, no ship or
sail, no other boat--nothing that can give them a hope.
All bright above, around, and beneath; but within their hearts only
darkness and the dread of death!
CHAPTER TWO.
THE HAMMER-HEAD.
For some time the castaways had been seated in moody silence, now and
then glancing at the corpse in the bottom of the boat, some of them no
doubt thinking how long it might be before they themselves would occupy
the same situation.
But now and then, also, their looks were turned upon one another, not
hopefully, but with a mechanical effort of despair.
In one of these occasional glances, Captain Redwood noticed the
unnatural glare in the eyes of the surviving sailor, as also did the
Irishman. Simultaneously were both struck with it, and a significant
look was exchanged between them.
For a period of over twenty hours this man had been behaving oddly; and
they had conceived something more than a suspicion of his insanity. The
death of the sailor lying at the bottom of the boat, now the ninth, had
rendered him for a time more tranquil, and he sat quiet on his seat,
with elbows resting on his knees, his cheeks held between the palms of
his hands. But the wild stare in his eyes seemed to have become only
more intensified as he kept them fixed upon the corpse of his comrade.
It was a look worse than wild; it had in it the expression of _craving_.
On perceiving it, and after a moment spent in reflection, the captain
made a sign to the ship-carpenter, at the same time saying,--
"Murtagh, it's no use our keeping the body any longer in the boat. Let
us give it such burial as the sea vouchsafes to a sailor,--and a true
one he was."
He spoke these words quietly, and in a low tone, as if not intending
them to be heard by the suspected maniac.
"A thrue sailor!" rejoined the Irishman. "Truth ye're roight there,
captin. Och, now! to think he's the ninth of them we've throwed
overboard, all the crew of the owld ship, exceptin' our three selves,
widout countin' the Malay an' the childer. If it wasn't that yer
honour's still left, I'd say the best goes first; for the nigger there
looks as if he'd last out the whole lot of--"
The captain, to whom this imprudent speech was torture, with a gesture
brought it to an abrupt termination. He was in fear of its effect not
on the Malay, but on the insane sailor. The latter, however, showed no
sign of having heard or understood it; and in a whisper Murtagh received
instructions how to act.
"You lay hold of him by the shoulders," were the words spoken, "while I
take the feet. Let us slip him quietly over without making any stir.
Saloo, remain you where you are; we won't need your help."
This last speech was addressed to the Malay, and in his own language,
which would not be understood by any other than himself. The reason for
laying the injunction upon him was, that he sat in the boat beyond the
man deemed mad, and his coming across to the others might excite the
latter, and bring about some vaguely dreaded crisis.
The silent Malay simply nodded an assent, showing no sign that he
comprehended why his assistance was not desired. For all that, he
understood it, he too having observed the mental condition of the
sailor. Rising silently from their seats, and advancing toward the dead
body, the captain and carpenter, as agreed upon, laid hold of and raised
it up in their arms. Even weak as both were, it was not much of a lift
to them. It was not a corpse, only a skeleton, with the skin still
adhering, and drawn tightly over the bones.
Resting it upon the gunwale of the boat, they made a moment's pause,
their eyes turned heavenward, as if mentally repeating a prayer.
The Irishman, a devout believer in the efficacy of outward observances,
with one hand detached from the corpse, made the sign of the cross.
Then was the body again raised between them, held at arm's length
outward, and tenderly lowered down upon the water.
There was no plunge, only a tiny plashing, as if a chair, or some other
piece of light wood-work, had been dropped gently upon the surface of
the sea. But slight as was the sound, it produced an effect, startling
as instantaneous. The sailor, whose dead comrade was thus being
consigned to the deep, as it were, surreptitiously, all at once sprang
to his feet, sending forth a shriek that rang far over the tranquil
water. With one bound, causing the pinnace to heel fearfully over, he
placed himself by the side over which the corpse had been lowered, and
stood with arms upraised, as if intending to plunge after it.
The sight underneath should have awed him. The dead body was slowly,
gradually sinking, its garb of dark blue Guernsey shirt becoming lighter
blue as it went deeper down in the cerulean water; while fast advancing
to meet it, as if coming up from the darkest depths of the ocean, was a
creature of monstrous shape, the very type of a monster. It was the
hideous hammer-headed shark, the dreaded _zygaena_ of the Celebes Sea.
With a pair of enormous eyes glaring sullenly out from two immense
cheek-like protuberances, giving to its head that singular sledge-hammer
appearance whence it has its name, it advanced directly toward the
slow-descending corpse, itself, however, moving so rapidly that the
spectators above had scarce taken in the outlines of its horrid form,
when this was no longer visible. It was hidden in what appeared a
shower of bluish pearls suddenly projected underneath the water, and
enveloping both the dead body of the sailor and the living form of the
shark. Through the dimness could be distinguished gleams of a pale
phosphoric sheen like lightning flashes through a sky cloud; and soon
after froth and bubbles rose effervescing upon the surface of the sea.
It was a terrible spectacle, though only of an instants duration. When
the subaqueous cloud cleared away, and they again looked with peering
eyes down into the pellucid depths, there was nothing there, neither
dead body of man, nor living form of monster. The _zygaena_ had secured
its prey, and carried the skeleton corpse to some dark cavern of the
deep! [Note 1.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. The hammer-headed shark, in common language, is rightly
designated one of the most hideous of marine animals. We mean hideous
in outward appearance, for, of course, there is much both wonderful and
beautiful in its internal organisation, and in the exquisite fitness of
its structure for its peculiar part in the economy of nature. In the
general outline of its body, which is something like that of a cylinder,
it resembles the ordinary sharks; and its distinctive feature is its
head, which, on either side, expands like a double-headed hammer. The
eyes are very large, and placed at each extremity. It is found in the
Mediterranean Sea, as well as in the Indian Ocean, and is noted for its
fierceness and voracity.
CHAPTER THREE.
THE ALBATROSS.
Captain Redwood and the Irishman were horrified at the sight that had
passed under their eyes. So, too, were the children, who had both
started up from their reclining attitude, and looked over the side of
the boat. Even the impassive Malay, all his life used to stirring
scenes, in which blood was often shed, could not look down into those
depths, disturbed by such a tragical occurrence, without having aroused
within him a sensation of horror.
All of them recoiled back into the boat, staggering down upon their
seats. One alone remained standing, and with an expression upon his
face as if he was desirous of again beholding the sight. It was not a
look that betrayed pleasure, but one grim and ghastly, yet strong and
steady, as if it penetrated the profoundest depths of the ocean. It was
the look of the insane sailor.
If his companions had still held any lingering doubts about his
insanity, it was sufficient to dispel them. It was the true stare of
the maniac.
It was not long continued. Scarce had they resumed their seats when the
man, once more elevating his arms in the air, uttered another startling
shriek, if possible louder and wilder than before. He had stepped upon
one of the boat seats, and stood with body bent, half leaning over the
gunwale, in the attitude of a diver about to make his headlong plunge.
There could be no mistaking his intention to leap overboard, for his
comrades could see that his muscles were strained to the effort.
All three--the captain, Murtagh, and the Malay--suddenly rose again, and
leant forward to lay hold on him. They were too late. Before a finger
could touch him he had made the fatal spring; and the next moment he was
beneath the surface of the sea!
None of them felt strong enough to leap after and try to save him. In
all probability, the effort would have been idle, and worse; for the mad
fancy that seemed urging him to self-destruction might still influence
his mind, and carry another victim into the same vortex with himself.
Restrained by this thought, they stood up in the boat, and watched for
his coming up again.
He did so at length, but a good distance off. A breeze had been
gradually springing up, and during his dive the pinnace had made some
way, by drifting before it. When his head was again seen above the
curling water, he was nearly a hundred yards to windward of the boat.
He was not so far off as to prevent them from reading the expression
upon his face, now turned toward them. It had become changed, as if by
magic. The wild look of insanity was gone, and in its place was one
almost equally wild, though plainly was it an expression of fear, or
indeed terror. The immersion into the cold, deep sea, had told upon his
fevered brain, producing a quick reaction of reason; and his cries for
help, now in piteous tones sent back to the boat, showed that he
understood the peril in which he had placed himself.
They were not unheeded. Murtagh and the Malay rushed, or rather
tottered, to the oars; while the captain threw himself into the stern,
and took hold of the tiller-ropes.
In an instant the pinnace was headed round, and moving through the water
in the direction of the swimmer; who, on his side, swam toward them,
though evidently with feeble stroke. There seemed not much doubt of
their being able to pick him up. The only danger thought of by any of
them was the _zygaena_; but they hoped the shark might be still occupied
with its late prey, and not seeking another victim. There might be
another shark, or many more; but for some time past one only had been
seen in the neighbourhood of the boat; the shark, as they supposed,
which had but recently devoured the dead body of the sailor. Trusting
to this conjecture, they plied the oars with all the little strength
left in their arms. Still, notwithstanding their feeble efforts, and
the impediment of pulling against the wind, they were nearing the
unfortunate man, surely, if slowly.
They had got over half the distance; less than half a cable's length was
now between the boat and the struggling swimmer. Not a shark was to be
seen on the water, nor beneath it--no fish of any kind--nothing whatever
in the sea. Only, in the sky above, a large bird, whose long
scimitar-shaped wings and grand curving beak told them what it was--an
albatross. It was the great albatross of the Indian seas, with an
extent of wing beyond that of the largest eagle, and almost equalling
the spread of the South American condor. [Note 1.]
They scarce looked at it, or even glanced above, they were looking below
for the _zygaena_--scanning the surface of the water around them, or
with their eyes keenly bent, endeavouring to penetrate its indigo depths
in search of the monstrous form.
No shark in sight. All seemed well; and despite the piteous appeals of
the swimmer, now toiling with feebler stroke, and scarce having power to
sustain himself they in the pinnace felt sure of being able to rescue
him.
Less than a quarter cable's length lay between. The boat, urged on by
the oars, was still lessening the distance. Five minutes more, and they
would be close to their comrade, and lift him over the gunwale.
Still no _zygaena_ in sight--no shark of any kind.
"Poor fellow! he seems quite cured; we shall be able to save him."
It was Captain Redwood who thus spoke. The Irishman was about making a
little hopeful rejoinder, when his speech was cut short by a cry from
Saloo, who had suspended his stroke, as if paralysed by some sudden
despair.
The Malay, who, as well as Murtagh, had been sitting with his back
toward the swimmer, had slewed himself round with a quick jerk, that
told of some surprise. The movement was caused by a shadow flitting
over the boat; something was passing rapidly through the air above. It
had caught the attention of the others, who, on hearing Saloo's cry,
looked up along with him.
They saw only the albatross moving athwart the sky, no longer slow
sailing as before, but with the swift-cutting flight of a falcon
pouncing down upon its prey. It seemed descending not in a straight
line, but in an acute parabolic curve, like a thunderbolt or some
aerolite projected toward the surface of the sea. But the bird, with a
whirr like the sound of running spindles, was going in a definite
direction, the point evidently aimed at being the head of the swimmer!
A strange commingled shout arose over the ocean, in which several voices
bore part. Surprise pealed forth from the lips of those in the boat,
and terror from the throat of the struggling man, while a hoarse croak
from the gullet of the albatross, followed by what appeared a mocking
scream of triumph. Then quick succeeded a crashing sound, as the sharp
heavy beak of the bird broke through the skull of the swimmer, striking
him dead, as if by the shot of a six-pounder, and sending his lifeless
body down toward the bottom of the sea!
It came not up again--at all events, it was never more seen by his
castaway companions; who, dropping the oars in sorrowful despair,
allowed the boat to drift away from the fatal spot--in whatever
direction the soft-sighing breeze might capriciously carry it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. The albatross Is the largest of the ocean-birds. Its wings,
when extended, measuring fifteen feet, and its weight sometimes
exceeding twenty to twenty-four pounds. The common albatross is the
_Diomedea exulans_ of naturalists. Its plumage, except a few of the wing
feathers, is white; its long, hard beak, which Is very powerful, is of a
pale yellow colour; and its short, webbed feet are flesh coloured. It
is frequently met with in the Southern Ocean. The species mentioned in
the text is the black-beaked albatross, which frequents the India
waters. The albatross Is a formidable enemy to the sailor, for if one
falls overboard, he will assuredly fall a victim to this powerful bird,
unless rescued immediately by his comrades. Its cry has some
resemblance to that of the pelican; but it will also, when excited, give
rent to a noise not unlike the braying of an ass. The female makes a
rude nest of earth on the sea-shore, and deposits therein her solitary
egg, which is about four inches long, white, and spotted at the larger
end.
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE CRY OF THE DUGONG.
Until the day on which the ninth sailor had died of starvation, and the
tenth had been struck dead by the sea-bird, the castaways had taken an
occasional spell at the oars. They now no longer touched, nor thought
of them. Weakness prevented them, as well as despondency. For there
was no object in continuing the toil; no land in sight, and no knowledge
of any being near. Should a ship chance to come their way, they were as
likely to be in her track lying at rest, as if engaged in laboriously
rowing. They permitted the oars, therefore, to remain motionless
between the thole pins, themselves sitting listlessly on the seats, most
of them with their heads bent despairingly downward. The Malay alone
kept his shining black eyes on the alert, as if despair had not yet
prostrated him.
The long sultry day that saw the last of their two sailor comrades, at
length came to a close, without any change in their melancholy
situation. The fierce hot sun went down into the bosom of the sea, and
was followed by the short tropic twilight. As the shades of night
closed over them, the father, kneeling beside his children, sent up a
prayer to Him who still held their lives in His hand; while Murtagh said
the Amen; and the dark-skinned Malay, who was a Mohammedan, muttered a
similar petition to Allah. It had been their custom every night and
morning, since parting from the foundered ship, and during all their
long-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 were
slowly, surely dying.
This night, a thing something unusual, the sky became obscured by
clouds. It might be a good omen, or a bad one. If a storm, their frail
boat would run a terrible risk of being swamped; but if rain should
accompany it, there might be a chance of collecting a little water upon
a tarpaulin that lay at the bottom.
As it turned out, no rain fell, though there arose what might be called
a 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 to
the boat; and it blew right in the direction whither they intended
steering.
With the freshening of the wind, as it came cool upon his brow, the
castaway captain seemed to become inspired with a slight hope. It was
the 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 "pigeon
English," and pointing to the tarpaulin in the bottom of the boat. "Why
no him makee sail?"
"Yis, indade; why not?" questioned the Irishman.
"Comee, Multa! you help me; we step one oal--it makee mass--we lig him
up little time."
"All roight, Sloo," responded Murtagh, leaning over and seizing one of
the oars, while the Malay lifted the tarpaulin from where it lay folded
up, and commenced shaking the creases out of it.
With the dexterity of a practised sailor, Murtagh soon had the oar
upright, and its end "stepped," between two ribs of the boat, and firmly
lashed to one of the strong planks that served as seats. Assisted by
the captain himself, the tarpaulin was bent on, and with a "sheet"
attached to one corner rigged sail-fashion. In an instant it caught the
stiff breeze, and bellied out; when the pinnace feeling the impulse,
began to move rapidly through the water, leaving in her wake a stream of
sparkling phosphorescence that looked like liquid fire.
They had no compass, and therefore could not tell the exact direction in
which they were being carried. But a yellowish streak on the horizon,
showing where the sun had set, was still lingering when the wind began
to freshen, and as it was one of those steady, regular winds, that
endure for hours without change, they could by this means guess at the
direction--which was toward that part of the horizon where the yellowish
spot had but lately faded out; in short, toward the west.
Westward from the place where the cyclone had struck the ship, lay the
great island of Borneo. They knew it to be the nearest land, and for
this had they been directing the boat's course ever since their
disaster. The tarpaulin now promised to bring them nearer to it in one
night, than their oars had done with days of hopeless exertion.
It was a long twelve-hour night; for under the "Line"--and they were
less than three degrees from it--the days and nights are equal. But
throughout all its hours, the wind continued to blow steadily from the
same quarter; and the spread tarpaulin, thick and strong, caught every
puff of it acting admirably. It was, in fact, as much canvas as the
pinnace could well have carried on such a rough sea-breeze, and served
as a storm-try sail to run her before the wind.
Captain Redwood himself held charge of the tiller; and all were cheered
with the fine speed they were making--their spirits rising in proportion
to the distance passed over. Before daylight came to add to their
cheerfulness, they must have made nearly a hundred miles; but ere the
day broke, a sound fell upon their ears that caused a commotion among
them--to all giving joy. It came swelling over the dark surface of the
deep, 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 human
beings, for though these might be in trouble like themselves, they could
not be in so bad a state. They might be in danger from the storm; but
they would be strong and healthy--not thirsting skeletons like the
occupants of the pinnace.
"What do you think it is, captin?" asked the Irishman. "Moight it be
some ship in disthriss?"
Before the captain could reply, the sound came a second time over the
waters, with a prolonged wail, like the cry of a suffering sinner on his
death-bed.
"The _dugong_!" exclaimed Saloo, this time recognising the melancholy
note, 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 to
them; on the contrary, its loud wailings spoke of danger--these being
the sure precursors of a storm. [Note 1.]
To him and Murtagh, the presence of this strange cetaceous animal gave
no relief; and, after hearing its call, they sank back to their seats,
relapsing into the state of half despondency, half hopefulness, from
which it had startled them.
Not so with Saloo, who better understood its habits. He knew they were
amphibious, and that, where the dugong was found, land could not be a
long way off. He said this, once more arousing his companions by his
words to renewed expectancy.
The morning soon after broke, and they beheld boldly outlined against
the 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 of
pious gratitude; and as his pinnace, still obedient to the breeze and
spread tarpaulin, forged on toward it, he once more knelt down in the
bottom of the boat, caused his children to do the same, and offered up a
prayer--a fervent thanksgiving to the God alike of land and sea, who was
about to deliver him and his from the "dangers of the deep."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. We are unwilling to interrupt the course of our narrative by
disquisitions on subjects of natural history, and, therefore, relegate
to a note the following particulars about the dugong. This strange
mammal belongs to a genus of the family _Manatidae_, or Herbivorous
Cetacea. The species of which a member was discovered by our castaways,
is the _Halicore Indicus_, or dugong of the Indian Archipelago; and, as
we have said, is never found very far from land. Its dentition
resembles, in some respects, that of the elephant; and from the
structure of its digestible organs it can eat only vegetable food; that
is, the _algae_, or weeds, growing on submarine rocks in shallow water.
When it comes to the surface to breathe, it utters a peculiar cry, like
the lowing of a cow. Its length, when full-grown, is said to be twenty
feet, but few individuals seem to exceed twelve feet. In its general
appearance it is very much like the _manatee_, or manatus, which haunts
the mouths of the great South American rivers.
CHAPTER FIVE.
RUNNING THE BREAKERS.
The Almighty Hand that had thus far helped the castaways on their
course, with a favouring wind bringing them in sight of Borneo's isle,
was not going to crush the sweet hopes thus raised by wrecking their
boat upon its shores.
And yet for a time it seemed as if this were to be their fate. As they
drew near enough to the land to distinguish its configuration, they saw
a white line like a snow-wreath running between it and them, for miles
to right and left, far as the eye could reach. They knew it to be a
barrier of coral breakers, such as usually encircle the islands of the
Indian seas--strong ramparts raised by tiny insect creatures, to guard
these fair gardens of God against the assaults of an ocean that,
although customarily calm, is at times aroused by the _typhoon_, until
it rages around them with dark scowling waves, like battalions of
demons.
On drawing near these reefs, Captain Redwood, with the eye of an
experienced seaman, saw that while the wind kept up there was no chance
for the pinnace to pass them; and to run head on to them would be simply
to dash upon destruction. Sail was at once taken in, by letting go the
sheet, and dropping the tarpaulin back into the bottom of the boat. The
oar that had been set up as a mast was left standing, for there were
five others lying idle in the pinnace; and with four of these, Saloo and
Murtagh each taking a pair, the boat was manned, the captain himself
keeping charge of the tiller. His object was not to approach the land,
but to prevent being carried among the breakers, which, surging up
snow-white, presented a perilous barrier to their advance.
To keep the boat from driving on the dangerous reef, was just as much as
the oarsmen could accomplish. Weakened as they were, by long suffering
and starvation, they had a tough struggle to hold the pinnace as it were
in _statu quo_--all the tougher from the disproportion between such a
heavy craft and the light oar-stroke of which her reduced and exhausted
crew were capable.
But as if taking pity upon them, and in sympathy with their efforts, the
sun, as he rose above the horizon, seemed to smile upon them and hush
the storm into silence. The wind, that throughout the night had been
whistling in their ears, all at once fell to a calm, as if commanded by
the majestic orb of day; and along with the wind went down the waves,
the latter subsiding more gradually. It was easier now to hold the
pinnace in place, as also to row her in a direction parallel to the line
of the breakers; and, after coasting for about a mile, an opening was at
length observed where the dangerous reef might perhaps be penetrated
with safety.
Setting the boat's head toward it, the oars were once more worked with
the utmost strength that remained in the arms of the rowers, while her
course was directed with all the skill of which an American skipper is
capable.
Yet the attempt was one of exceeding peril. Though the wind had
subsided, the swell was tremendous; billow after billow being carried
against the coral reefs with a violence known only to the earthquake and
the angry ocean. Vast volumes of water surged high on either side,
projecting still higher their sparkling shafts of spray, like the
pillars of a waterspout.
Between them spread a narrow space of calm sea--yet only comparatively
calm, for even there an ordinary boat, well managed, would be in danger
of getting swamped. What then was the chance for a huge pinnace, poorly
manned, and therefore sure of being badly trimmed? It looked as if
after all the advantages that had arisen--that had sprung up as though
providentially in their favour--Captain Redwood and the small surviving
remnant of his crew were to perish among the breakers of Borneo, and be
devoured by the ravenous sharks which amidst the storm-vexed reefs find
their congenial home.
But it was not so to be. The prayer offered up, as those snow-white but
treacherous perils first hove in sight, had been heard on high; and He
who had guided the castaways to the danger, stayed by their side, and
gave strength to their arms to carry them through it.
With a skill drawn from the combination of clear intelligence and long
experience, Captain Redwood set the head of his pinnace straight for the
narrow and dangerous passage; and with a strength inspired by the peril,
Murtagh and the Malay pulled upon their oars, each handling his
respective pair as if his life depended on the effort.
With the united will of oarsmen and steerer the effort was successful;
and ten seconds later the pinnace was safe inside the breakers, moving
along under the impulse of two pairs of oars, that rose and fell as
gently as if they were pulling her over the surface of some placid lake.
In less than ten minutes her keel touched bottom on the sands of Borneo,
and her crew, staggering ashore, dropped upon their knees, and in words
earnest as those uttered by Columbus at Cat Island, or the Pilgrims on
Plymouth Rock, breathed a devout thanksgiving for their deliverance.
CHAPTER SIX.
A GIGANTIC OYSTER.
"Water! water!"
The pain of hunger is among the hardest to endure, though there is still
a harder--that of thirst. In the first hours of either, it is doubtful
which of the two kinds of suffering is the more severe; but, prolonged
beyond a certain point, hunger loses its keenness of edge, through the
sheer weakness of the sufferer, while the agony of thirst knows no such
relief.
Suffering, as our castaways were, from want of food for nearly a week,
their thirst was yet more agonising; and after the thanksgiving prayer
had passed from their lips, their first thought was of water--their cry,
"Water! water!"
As they arose to their feet they instinctively looked around to see if
any brook or spring were near.
An ocean was flowing beside them; but this was not the kind of water
wanted. They had already had enough of the briny element, and did not
even turn their eyes upon it. It was landward they looked; scanning the
edge of the forest, that came down within a hundred yards of the shore--
the strip of sand on which they had beached their boat trending along
between the woods and the tide-water as far as the eye could trace it.
A short distance off, however, a break was discernible in the line of
the sand-strip--which they supposed must be either a little inlet of the
sea itself, or the outflow of a stream. If the latter, then were they
fortunate indeed.
Saloo, the most active of the party, hastened toward it; the others
following him only with their eyes.
They watched him with eager gaze, trembling between hope and fear--
Captain Redwood more apprehensive than the rest. He knew that in this
part of the Bornean coast months often pass without a single shower of
rain; and if no stream or spring should be found they would still be in
danger of perishing by thirst.
They saw Saloo bend by the edge of the inlet, scoop up some water in his
palms, and apply it to his lips, as if tasting it. Only for an instant,
when back to them came the joyful cry,--
"_Ayer! ayer manis! sungi_!" (Water! sweet water! A river!)
Scarce more pleasantly, that morning at day-break, had fallen on their
ears the cry of "Land!" than now fell the announcement of the Malay
sailor, making known the proximity of water. Captain Redwood, who was
acquainted with the Malay language, translated the welcome words. Sweet
water, Saloo had described it. Emphatically might it be so termed.
All hastened, or rather rushed, toward the stream, fell prostrate on
their faces by its edge, and drank to a surfeit. It gave them new life;
and, indeed, it had given them their lives already, though they knew it
not. It was the outflow of its current into the ocean that caused the
break in the coral reef through which their boat had been enabled to
pass. Otherwise they might have found no opening, and perished in
attempting to traverse the surging surf. The madrepores will not build
their subaqueous coral walls where rivers run into the ocean; hence the
open spaces here and there happily left, that form deep transverse
channels admitting the largest ships.
No longer suffering from thirst, its kindred appetite now returned with
undivided agony, and the next thought was for something to eat.
They again turned their eyes toward the forest, and up the bank of the
stream that came flowing from it. But Saloo had seen something in the
sea, near the spot where the pinnace had been left; and, calling upon
Murtagh to get ready some dry wood and kindle a fire, he ran back toward
the boat.
Murtagh, the rest accompanying him, walked to the edge of the woods
where the stream issued from the leafy wilderness.
Just beyond the strip of sand the forest abruptly ended, the trees
standing thick together, and rising like a vast vegetable wall to a
height of over a hundred feet. Only a few straggled beyond this line.
The very first of them, that nearest the sea, was a large elm-like tree,
with tall trunk, and spreading leafy limbs that formed a screen from the
sun, now well up in the sky, and every moment growing more sultry. It
offered a convenient camping-place; and under its cool shadow they could
recline until with restored strength they might either seek or build
themselves a better habitation.
An ample store of dry faggots was lying near; and Murtagh having
collected them into a pile, took out his flint and steel, and commenced
striking a light.
Meanwhile their eyes were almost constantly turned toward Saloo, all of
them wondering what had taken him back to the boat. Their wonder was
not diminished when they saw him pass the place where the pinnace had
been pulled up on the sand, and wade straight out into the water--as if
he were going back to the breakers!
Presently, after he had got about knee-deep, they saw him stoop down,
until his body was nearly buried under the sea, and commence what
appeared to be a struggle with some creature still concealed from their
observation. Nor was their wonder any the less, when at length he rose
erect again, holding in his hands what for all the world looked like a
huge rock, to which a number of small shells and some sea-weed adhered.
"What does the Malay crather want wid a big stone?" was the
interrogatory of the astonished Irishman. "And, look, captin, it's that
same he's about bringin' us. I thought it moight be some kind of
shill-fish. Hungry as we are, we can't ate stones?"
"Not so fast, Murtagh," said the captain, who had more carefully
scrutinised the article Saloo had taken up. "It's not a stone, but what
you first supposed it--a shell-fish."
"That big thing a shill-fish! Arrah now, captin, aren't you jokin'?"
"No, indeed. What Saloo has got in his arms, if I'm not mistaken, is an
oyster."
"An oysther? Two fut in length and over one in breadth. Why, it's as
much as the Malay can carry. Don't yez see that he's staggerin' under
it?"
"Very true; but it's an oyster for all that. I'm now sure of it, as I
can see its shape, and the great ribs running over it. Make haste, and
get your fire kindled; for it's a sort of oyster rather too
strong-flavoured to be eaten raw. Saloo evidently intends it to be
roasted."
Murtagh did as requested, and by the time the Malay, bearing his heavy
burden, reached the tree, smoke was oozing through a stack of faggots
that were soon after ablaze.
"Tha, Cappen Ledwad," said the Malay, flinging his load at the captain's
feet. "Tha plenty shell-fiss--makee all we big blakfass. Inside find
good meat. We no need open him. Hot coalee do that."
They all gathered around the huge shell, surveying it with curiosity,
more especially the young people.
It was that strange testaceous fish found in the Indian seas, and known
to sailors as the "Singapore oyster"--of which specimens are not rare
measuring a yard in length, and over eighteen inches in breadth at the
widest diameter.
Their curiosity, however, was soon satisfied; for with stomachs craving
as theirs, they were in no very fit condition for the pursuit of
conchological studies; and Saloo once more lifting the large oyster--
just as much as he could do--dropped it among the faggots, now fairly
kindled into a fire.
More were heaped around and over it, until it was buried in the heart of
a huge pile, the sea-weeds that still clung to it crackling, and the
salt water spurting and spitting, as the smoke, mingled with the bright
blaze, ascended toward the overshadowing branches of the tree.
In due time Saloo, who had cooked Singapore oysters before, pronounced
it sufficiently roasted; when the faggots were kicked aside, and with a
boat-hook, which Murtagh had brought from the pinnace, the oyster [Note
1.] was dragged out of the ashes.
Almost instantly it fell open, its huge valves displaying in their
concave cups enough "oyster-meat" to have afforded a supper for a party
of fifteen individuals instead of five--that is, fifteen not so famished
as they were.
With some knives and other utensils, which the Irishman had also brought
away from the boat, they seated themselves around the grand bivalve; nor
did they arise from their seats until the shells were scraped clean, and
hunger, that had so long tortured them, was quite banished from their
thoughts.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. Strictly speaking, the Singapore oyster is a gigantic species
of Clam, (_Tridacna_).
CHAPTER SEVEN.
A DANGEROUS LOCALITY.
After their ample meal of oyster "roasted in the shell," which was a
breakfast instead of a supper, they rested for the remainder of the day,
and all through the following night. They required this lengthened
period of repose, not because they stood in need of sleep, but from the
exhaustion of weakness, consequent upon their long spell of hunger and
thirst.
They slept well, considering that they had no couch, nor any covering,
but the tattered clothes they wore upon their bodies. But they had
become accustomed to this kind of bed; as to one even less comfortable,
and certainly not safer--on the hard planks of the pinnace. Nor did the
cold discomfort them; for although the nights are colder on land than at
sea, and in the tropics sometimes even chilly, that night was warm
throughout; and nothing interfered with their slumbers except some
horrid dreams, the sure sequence of suffering and perils such as they
had been passing through.
The morning rose bright and beautiful, as nearly all Bornean mornings
do. And the castaways rose from their recumbent position, feeling
wonderfully restored both in strength and spirits. Henry and Helen--
these were the names of the young people--were even cheerful, inclined
to wander about and wonder at the strange objects around: the beautiful
beach of silvery sand; the deep blue sea; the white breakers beyond,
rising over it like along snow-wreath; the clear fresh-water stream
alongside, in which they could see curious fish disporting themselves;
the grand forest-trees, among them stately palms and tall lance-like
bamboos;--in short, a thousand things that make tropical scenery so
charming.
Notwithstanding the scenic beauty, there was something needed before it
could be thoroughly enjoyed, and this was breakfast. The contents of
the great oyster had given full satisfaction for the time; but that was
nearly twenty-four hours ago, and the appetites of all were once more
keenly whetted. What was to take the edge off them? This was the
question that occupied their thoughts, and the answer was not so easy.
Saloo went in search of another Singapore oyster; Murtagh started along
the bank of the stream, in the hope of beguiling some of the red and
gold fish he saw playing "backgammon" in it, as he had seen the trout
and salmon in his native Killarney; while the captain, having procured a
rifle, that had been brought away in the boat, and which he well knew
how to handle, wandered off into the woods.
Henry and Helen remained under the tree, as their father did not think
there could be any danger in leaving them alone. He was well enough
acquainted with the natural history of Borneo to know that there were
neither lions nor tigers in the island. Had it been on the neighbouring
island of Sumatra, or some desert coast of the mainland--in Malacca,
Cochin-China, or Hindustan--he might have dreaded exposing them to the
attack of tigers. But as there was no danger of encountering these
fierce creatures on the shores of Borneo, he told the children to stay
under the tree until he and the others should return.