It had now grown extremely dark--so much so that I could scarce
distinguish the form of my companion, though he was close by me--and the
great raft itself with the bodies reclining upon it, was only
distinguishable as a shapeless black mass. I could perceive the spread
sail better than anything else, as this was of a whitish colour and
stood up outlined against the gloomy grey of the sky.
But, dark as it was, I noticed that Brace on turning away from me had
his knife clasped in his hand, with the blade still open and ready for
use! What could he intend with this?
All at once it occurred to me that he suspected something--that he was
apprehensive that the ruffians might not desire to wait for the morning
as agreed--but might attempt to carry out their purpose in the night;
and under this suspicion he had placed himself between them and me--
determined to keep guard over me. The position he had taken gave colour
to this supposition, and the attitude he was in almost confirmed it.
As I have before stated, Brace and I still occupied the floating planks
which we had bound together, and these were attached to the raft at what
might be called its stern--that is, when the raft moved through the
water by means of sail, our position was behind, and in the wake. Now,
as my companion had turned himself, he lay with his head towards the
raft, and, as I thought, in a half-crouching attitude--though the pitchy
darkness prevented me from being sure of this. At all events he was so
placed, that any one attempting to approach me must first pass over his
body; and, therefore, did I believe--seeing the knife in his grasp--that
his object was to guard me.
I have said that it had now grown extremely dark; but in addition to
this I perceived that the breeze had arisen--just about the same hour as
on other nights. This night, however, it was much fresher than before--
so fresh that the raft swept briskly along--making a rushing noise in
the water, and leaving a foamy track behind her.
Lulled into a kind of stupor, I lay for some time listening to this
noise; and was only aroused from my reverie by observing that the sound
of the water became all at once less loud and distinct--as though the
raft was moving more gently through the sea--then I ceased to hear it
altogether!
Surely, thought I, the sail has come down, and the raft is no longer in
motion.
I lay for a while listening attentively; to my surprise I could still
distinguish the sound of rushing water; but it now appeared as if at
some distance, and every moment getting further away!
I was about to spring up and seek an explanation of this strange
phenomenon, when a wild cry came pealing across the water, followed by a
confused noise of loud voices.
"We are saved!" thought I, "some ship is near!" and I actually shouted
these words, as I sprang up from my recumbent attitude.
"Yes," replied a voice, which I knew to be that of Brace, "we're saved
from them anyhow--yonder they go, the cowardly swabs! they don't catch
us, while this breeze lasts--that they don't."
To my astonishment I now perceived that Brace and I were alone; and, far
in the shadowy darkness, I could just make out the white sail of the
raft still scudding away before the breeze!
There was no mystery about it. Brace had cut the ropes that had bound
our planks to the raft, and had silently permitted them to drop astern.
That was what he had been doing with his knife!
Of course the wind, acting upon the sail, had soon carried the great
raft far out of reach, and it was now several hundred yards to leeward
of us. The darkness had prevented any of the crew from noting what was
passing; but they had at length discovered our escape, as their wild
shouts and angry vociferations testified. We could hear them calling us
by name, at the same time uttering threats and cries of disappointed
rage.
"Don't fear them any more," coolly remarked my companion, "can't reach
us with that slow craft--we can row faster than they can swim. But best
make sure, however--the farther we're from 'em the better--lay hold,
lad! here's an oar for you--pull with all your might!"
I took the oar as my companion directed, and commenced rowing. I saw
that Brace had another oar--which he had managed to bring away from the
raft--and under the two blades our little craft was propelled rapidly
through the water. Of course we rowed right into the wind's eye--for by
so doing we took the opposite direction to that in which the crew was
carried.
For a long time we continued to hear their wild, hoarse cries behind us;
but the voices grew fainter and fainter, as the raft drifted to leeward;
and at length we could hear them no more.
We rowed on till morning light; and then resting from our toil, we stood
up, and scanned the surface of the sea.
There was no sail in sight--no object of any kind.
The raft had disappeared behind the convex swell of the water;--we were
alone upon the ocean!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reader! I might describe other scenes of peril, through which my brave
companion and I passed, before that joyful hour, when our eyes rested
upon the white sails of a ship--a strong, fine ship that lifted us from
the bosom of the ocean, and carried us once more to land--ay, even to
our native land. I shall not weary you with the details. Suffice it to
say, that we were rescued--else how could I be living to tell the tale?
Yes--I still live, and so does my companion--both of us still follow the
sea, but no longer under the rule of an arbitrary tyrant such as the
captain of the _Pandora_. No! we are both captains ourselves--I of an
East Indiaman; and Ben the master--and part owner, too--of a fine barque
in the African trade--a barque quite equal to the _Pandora_.
But not that African trade--no. My old friend is an honest dealer. His
merchandise is not black men, but yellow gold-dust, white ivory,
palm-oil, and ostrich plumes; and after each "trip" to the African
coast, Ben--as I have been given to understand--makes a "trip" to the
Bank of England, and there deposits a very considerable sum of money. I
rejoice in his prosperity, and I have no doubt that you, reader, will do
the same.
We are not ignorant of the fate of the slaver's crew. Not one of them,
either those in the gig or on the raft, ever again saw the shore. They
perished upon the face of the wide ocean--miserably perished, without
hand to help or eye to weep over them. No eye beheld them but that of
the Omnipotent--no hand but His was near; and it was near--for it was
the hand of God that avenged their victims!