A dense mist hung over the ocean; the sky above our heads was of a grey
tint; the water below our feet of the colour of lead. Not a ripple
disturbed its mirror-like surface, except when now and then a covey of
flying fish leaped forth to escape from their pursuers, or it was clove
by the fin of a marauding shark. We knew that we were not far off the
coast of Africa, some few degrees to the south of the Equator; but how
near we were we could not tell, for the calm had continued for several
days, and a strong current, setting to the eastward, had been rapidly
drifting us toward the shore.
Notwithstanding that the sun was obscured, his rays found means of
heating the atmosphere, so that we felt much as if we were surrounded by
a hot damp blanket.
I had already made a trip to the West Indies, and two to this terrible
coast; and as I had escaped without an attack of yellow fever, or
cholera, when the Liverpool owners of the brig _Osprey_--commanded by
Captain Page, an old African trader--offered me a berth as supercargo, I
willingly accepted it. We were bound out to the Cape of Good Hope, but
had arranged to touch at two or three places on the coast, to trade and
land passengers. Among other places we were to call at Saint Paul de
Loando, to land a Portuguese gentleman, Senhor Silva, and his black
servant Ramaon. Our object in trading was to obtain palm-oil,
bees'-wax, gold dust, and ivory, in exchange for Manchester and
Birmingham goods; and for this purpose we had already visited several
places on the coast, picking up such quantities as could be obtained at
each of them. We had not, however, escaped without the usual penalty
African traders have to pay--two of our men having died of fever, and
two others, besides the captain, being sick of it. The first mate,
Giles Gritton, and another man, had been washed overboard in a heavy
gale we encountered on the other side of the Equator, and we were now,
therefore, somewhat short-handed. The first mate was a great loss, for
he was an excellent seaman and a first-rate fellow, which is more than
could be said of the second mate, Simon Kydd. How he came to be
appointed mate seemed unaccountable; unless, as he was related to the
owners, interest might have obtained for him what his own merits
certainly would not. Taking him at his own value, he had few superiors,
if any equals.
I felt much for Captain Page. He took the loss of his first mate
greatly to heart, and thus the incapacity of the second contributed
considerably to increase his malady. Day after day he grew worse, and I
began to fear much that his illness would end fatally. He was as good
and kind a man as ever lived, and an excellent sailor.
I had not been knocking about the ocean altogether with my eyes shut,
and had managed to pick up a fair amount of nautical knowledge. I did
not intrude it unnecessarily; I had a notion that I was regarded with a
somewhat jealous eye by those who considered me a mere landsman. I
certainly understood more about navigation than Mr Kydd, but that is
not saying much. There were few things which I could not do, from
handing, reefing, and steering, to turning in a dead-eye, and setting up
the rigging; and few situations in which the fickle winds and waves were
likely to place a ship with which I was not prepared to contend. Blow
high or blow low, I felt myself at home on the ocean. My father had
objected to my becoming a sailor, and had placed me in his
counting-house. The sedentary life of a clerk was, however, not to my
taste, and I was very glad to abdicate my seat on the high stool on
every decent pretext. Still I had done my duty when there, and my
conscience was at rest on that score. Misfortunes overtook my father's
house; speculations were entered into which proved unsuccessful; and his
long-established and highly-esteemed firm got into inextricable
difficulties. In vain he and his partners struggled to maintain their
credit. The final crash came, and although my mother's marriage
settlement saved the family from penury, he had no capital with which to
recommence business. I was too young to take his place. One of his
partners died broken-hearted, and he had not the energy left to
undertake the onerous duties he would have been called upon to perform.
He and my mother and sisters retired to a modest cottage in Cheshire;
while his boys, of whom I was the third, had to seek their fortunes in
the world. He had done his duty by us. He had given us a good
education, and ever striven to instil into our minds the principles of
true religion and honour. I shall never forget his parting advice when
I started on my first expedition. "Ever trust in God, Andrew," he said.
"Recollect that you were `bought with a price,' and `are not your own.'
You have no business to follow your own fancies, or to gratify any of
the propensities fallen nature possesses, even though we do possess
them, notwithstanding what the devil and the world may say to the
contrary. God has given you a body, but ever remember that he has given
you a mind to regulate that body. To the animals he has given bodies,
and indued them with instincts which we may say are unerring; whereas
man's mind, in consequence of sin, is prone to err; but then again, in
his mercy, he has enabled man to seek for strength from above to
counteract the effects of sin, and so to regulate his mind that it may
properly guide the body. I have no faith in high principles, unless
those high principles are kept in order by a higher influence.
Therefore, Andrew, read your Bible daily for guidance; go daily to the
throne of grace for enlightenment and direction, that you may keep your
high principles bright and ever fit for action. Do not trust your
feelings; they may mislead you. Do not trust the world or your
companions; they may prove faithless monitors or guides. Do not trust,
as people say, `manfully to yourself.' Self often proves treacherous."
More to the same effect my father said. I have given briefly his
observations. I did my best to carry out his counsel; and through it
gained the calmness and courage with which I encountered difficulties
and dangers which would otherwise have appalled and overwhelmed me. I
was never addicted to talking to my companions of myself, or my
principles and feelings; and I sometimes blame myself for not
endeavouring more perseveringly to inculcate on others those principles
which I knew to be so true and valuable. I now mention the subject,
because I can say on paper what my lips have often refused to utter.
But I have said enough about myself.
We had several other passengers on board, who, notwithstanding the risks
which they knew must be encountered on the African coast, had, for the
sake of seeing the country, come on board with the intention of
proceeding on to Cape Town, to which, as I said, we were ultimately
bound. I will mention first Captain Stanley Hyslop, a near relation of
mine, a nephew of my mother's. He was a military officer, and having
sold out of the service, was going to settle in the Cape Colony, where
his parents already were. He was accompanied by two younger brothers.
David was one of the nicest fellows I ever met. He had been educated as
a surgeon, and purposed practising in the country. The youngest,
Leonard, or Leo, as we always called him, was an amusing little chap,
always thinking funny things and saying them, and yet there was a
simplicity about him which was very attractive. He had been sent to
school in England, but being considered somewhat delicate--not,
certainly, that he looked so--it was recommended that he should return
to breathe his native air at the Cape. David was also, I should say, an
enthusiastic naturalist, and the hope of increasing his knowledge at the
places we might visit, had, besides his regard for me, induced him to
take his passage on board the _Osprey_, just as his brother expected to
get a few days sporting while the brig remained at anchor. I had seen
but little of Stanley, but for David I had always felt a warm regard.
There were, however, two other members of the family, in one of whom, at
all events, I must own I felt still more interested, although I knew
that it would not do for me in my present situation to exhibit my
feelings. My cousin, Kate Hyslop, was a very pretty, engaging girl, who
had a short time before left school. She was also full of spirit, while
she was right-minded and sweet-tempered. Her younger sister, Isabella,
or Bella as she was called, was quite a little girl. She also had been
at school; but her parents naturally could not bear to have her left
behind, and so Kate had undertaken to complete her education; and from
the time we sailed she was most assiduous in her attempts to do so.
Sometimes I fancied she gave her almost too much teaching. When her
brother, however, made a remark to that effect, she answered that it was
important not to lose time, as opportunities might be wanting by-and-by;
and when once they arrived in the colony, she knew that there would be
so many interruptions and hindrances, and she might have so many other
duties to perform, that Bella might not get the due amount of knowledge
she wished her to possess. Blow high or blow low, Kate always made
Bella learn her lessons. Sometimes holding on by the leg of a table in
the cabin during a gale, there the two sisters would be found with their
books. Both were capital sailors, as people say--that is, they were
never ill at sea; so that they were not inconvenienced as most other
people would have been by the tossing and tumbling of the stout brig.
They were attended by an old negro, Peter Timbo by name, who was the
most watchful of guardians. He was the captain's servant, and had
always accompanied him in his shooting expeditions when he was before
staying at the Cape. Timbo, also, from what I heard him say, knew more
about his native country than any one on board. He was born at some
distance from the sea, not far from the Equator. When he was just
growing into manhood, his village had been attacked by another tribe,
and he, with several companions in misfortune, had been carried off to
the coast. He was there shipped on board a Portuguese slaver, which,
venturing to the north of the line, was chased and captured by a British
man-of-war. Timbo, having a fancy for a sea life, and being an active,
intelligent fellow, had been allowed to enter on board her. After
serving for some years, he had been discharged at the Cape; where, after
following several pursuits, he had become a servant to my uncle and
aunt, Mr and Mrs Hyslop. Peter was loquacious and ever merry, and it
was pleasant to hear him give way to one of his hearty laughs. He had
thick lips, a huge flattish nose, and somewhat high head, covered with
thick curling wool, now beginning to show signs of turning grey.
Although he understood English perfectly, he still spoke it in a
somewhat negro fashion, which often gave piquancy to his expressions;
but from the way his master treated him, and from the affectionate care
he seemed to take of the younger members of the family, it was evident
that he must be a worthy man, notwithstanding his want of personal
attractions.
"Ah, Massa Andrew, we nebber know as kind God does what is good for us,"
he remarked to me one day. "I bery sorryful when slaver people carry me
off from my home in Pongo country. I t'ink I go to die, dat dere was no
God to look after poor black fellow. I know only of Fetish, and I
afraid of Fetish. Den I get among white men, and I see and hear much
dat is bad, and still I t'ink dere is no God. Den years pass by, and I
hear of de merciful Saviour, who die for me; and I say, `Dat is just
what I want,' and I learn to be Christian. But I will tell you anoder
day more about myself; I now go to get ready de cabin dinner."
I told Timbo that I should keep him to his promise, as I was much
interested in the short account he had given of himself.
We had four other passengers--Mr John and Mr Charles Rowley, and Miss
Julia Rowley their sister, who seemed very nice people, but they kept
themselves rather aloof from me, as well as from the mate, though they
were friendly enough with the passengers, whom they considered their
equals. The last person I need name was a young Irishman, Mr Terence
O'Brien, who was of no profession that I could find out, but proposed
settling as a colonist at the Cape. I have thus at once run off a brief
description of my companions, of the last mentioned of whom, at that
time, I knew comparatively little. Having said thus much of them, I
will continue the thread of my narrative.
"How is the weather, Andrew?" said Captain Page as I went into his
cabin. We had the skylight off, to let in as much air as possible, but
yet it felt hot and stifling. He was very pale. His lips were of a
bluish tinge, and his eyes were sunken and dim. On a locker close by
him sat a young boy with a book before him, from which he was in vain
endeavouring to read. I saw that Natty had been crying, for tears
bedewed the page. He was the captain's only son. His mother was dead,
and rather than leave him on shore to the care of strangers, his father
had brought him on this African voyage. "It was a choice of two evils,"
he said to me one day. "The boy's constitution is good, and we must not
let him be exposed to the night air or hot suns up the rivers, and he
will probably stand the climate better than most of us." Such indeed
had been the case, and Natty had been well, and had until now been full
of life and spirits--the favourite of all on board. He and my young
cousin Leonard soon struck up a friendship, and were of course always
together. For once Natty had left his friend to remain by the side of
his father. The captain had been speaking to him, for his voice ceased
as I appeared.
I replied to the captain's question, "No signs of a change, Captain
Page. We hove the lead, but found no bottom. We must still be some
distance off the coast."
"I trust so," was the answer. "Heave the lead every quarter of an hour,
and let me know when we are in soundings. Take another cast at once,
and then come back."
I told the mate. "Why, I did so not twenty minutes ago," he answered.
"What does the old man want us to do it again for?"
"The captain knows this coast well, Mr Kydd," I answered. "We may be
thankful to get an anchor to hold as soon as we get into shallow water."
Seeing the mate did not seem disposed to obey, I took the lead, and
calling to two of the hands, prepared to heave it.
"No, no," observed Kydd, "that is my work;" and taking the lead from me,
hove it carelessly. "No bottom," he answered; "I should think not,
indeed, out here."
It appeared to me that as the line ran out the whole length, he could
not be mistaken. Returning to the cabin, I made my report to the
captain. "Andrew," he said, "sit down; I want to have a few words with
you. I am going to that haven whence I shall never come back. I feel
that I shall not hold on much longer to life. I have not been a
successful man, and leave my boy but ill-provided for. As to my
friends, there are none that I can think of who are able to help him;
and the few acquaintances I have who could do so, I cannot trust. The
thought of what will become of my orphan boy weighs heavily on me.
Andrew, you are young and healthy, and may Heaven preserve your life for
many years! I have no great claim on you, but Andrew, as you hope
Heaven will watch over you, do you keep an eye on my boy. Do for him
the best you can. I have seen enough of you to know that you will act
wisely and kindly. I do not desire to have him pampered and spoiled by
riches, if I could give them, but I cannot bear the thought of his being
left friendless and in poverty to fight his way through this often hard
and cruel world. You will see to this, Andrew? I am sure you will."
"I will, Captain Page; I promise you," I answered, and I took his cold
clammy hand.
Poor Natty was all this time sobbing violently. The truth that he was
going to lose his father burst upon him, and that father had ever been
kind and indulgent.
"That is well, that is well," murmured Captain Page. "I trust to you to
be his human protector, and to One"--and he turned his eyes upward--"who
will ever be a Friend of the fatherless."
The captain said a good deal more, and made various arrangements about
Natty. Desiring me to get some papers from his desk, he showed me how I
could obtain the little property he was likely to leave.
"I wish I could see the brig safely brought to an anchor," he observed
after a long silence. "It is a nasty coast at best. With a breeze we
could work off it, but while this calm lasts we cannot help ourselves
from being carried wherever the current takes us, till we get into water
shoal enough for anchoring. I shall be happier when once we can bring
up, for if we do not, we may, when we little expect it, be driven on
shore; and let me tell you, Andrew, what with the surf and the sharks,
few of us are likely to escape with our lives. I know this coast well,
and a sandy beach, exposed to the whole sweep of the Atlantic, is even
more dangerous than a rocky shore. It must be time again to heave the
lead. Go on deck, Andrew, and see how things are."
I found the passengers seated under an awning, which the mate had rigged
at their request. He himself was walking up and down the deck, coming
the officer in fine style, and endeavouring to make himself agreeable to
the young ladies. He evidently anticipated the moment when he should
have the command; indeed, he seemed to fancy himself the master already.
When I told him that the captain desired me again to heave the lead, he
appeared not to hear me, but continued talking to Miss Rowley with the
insinuating air he knew so well how to assume. Miss Hyslop took but
little notice of him when he addressed her, and turned away, giving her
attention to Bella's lessons, or going on with any work she might have
in hand, for she never was a moment idle. She was admirably fitted for
colonial life; indeed, I may say, for any position in which she might be
placed. If she had become a duchess, she would not have been an idle
one.--I again addressed Mr Kydd. I told him that the captain wished to
have the lead hove.
"The old man is always issuing his orders through you, Mr Crawford," he
answered at length, in a scornful tone. "I know, I should think, what
ought to be done, and I will do it. And I beg you will not interrupt me
when I am talking to ladies." He added the last sentence in a whisper,
sufficiently loud, however, for Miss Rowley to hear him.
"As the captain has been too ill to take an observation for some time, I
suppose that you know our correct longitude, Mr Kydd. He, at all
events, considers that we are close in with the African coast; and, as
you are aware, it would be a terrible thing to have the brig cast on one
of the sandbanks which lie off it," I remarked.
"No fear of that," he answered scornfully. "We shall have a breeze
soon, probably, and then we will stand to the westward, and run down to
the latitude of Loando. We are not many degrees from that, at all
events."
"The captain is a good seaman, and he has his reasons for ordering the
lead to be hove," I answered. "If the calm continues, he wishes us to
anchor as soon as the water shoals sufficiently."
"Shoals sufficiently!" repeated the mate, in the same scornful tone; "we
have no line on board to reach the bottom, I'll warrant." The mate
unintentionally spoke loud enough for the gentlemen to hear him.
"Come, Mr Kydd, I suppose you intend to obey the captain's orders,"
said Captain Hyslop, coming up to where we were standing. "It seems to
me that he has good reason for giving them."
"I believe, sir, that I am chief officer of the _Osprey_, and that I
know my duty," said the mate. "It is not customary for passengers to
interfere with the navigation of the ship."
"Certainly not, sir," answered Stanley; "but I trust all on board will
obey the captain's orders while he is able to give them."
"That will not be for long," muttered the mate in an undertone. "I
intend to do what is necessary, and I do not see that there is any use
to keep heaving the lead out here almost in mid-ocean."
"But are we in mid-ocean, Mr Kydd? The captain considers that we are
close in with the coast," remarked Stanley.
"Faith, there is going to be a row," I heard Terence O'Brien exclaim to
young Mr Rowley. "See! I would like to be after giving them a poke.
It would be rare fun."
"It would not be rare fun if the captain is right," was the answer.
"Am I to report to Captain Page that you decline heaving the lead, Mr
Kydd?" I said at length, seeing that he made no movement to obey the
order.
"Do as you like, Mr Crawford. I am not going to be dictated to by any
man on board," replied the mate in an obstinate tone.
"The captain is _very_ ill, as you know, and I fear your conduct will
greatly vex him and tend to aggravate his disease," I said, still
unwilling to return below. "I hope you will let me heave the lead if
you will not do it yourself."
"Are you hired to navigate this ship, or am I?" he said in an angry
tone, turning round to me. "I am chief officer, and unless the captain
comes on deck to give his commands, I intend to do as I think fit. If
you touch the lead, I shall consider it an act of mutiny, and order the
crew to put you in irons."
I did not wish to bring things to extremities, and yet I could not bring
myself to tell the captain how the mate was behaving. I waited, but
waited in vain, to see whether he would change his mind. He still stood
with his hands in his pockets, casting defiant looks around. I was in
hopes that Stanley and the other gentlemen would interfere; but they
remained silent, though somewhat astonished at the mate's behaviour. At
last, finding there was no help for it, I went back to the cabin.
"I am sorry to say, Captain Page, that Mr Kydd seems to consider that
there is no necessity for heaving the lead, and refuses to do so at
present," I said on entering. "I will do anything you wish, and again
carry your orders if you desire me."
"I must go on deck myself then," said the captain, attempting to rise.
"Help me on with my clothes, Andrew. I feel very weak, but if he forces
me to it, I must go." I assisted the captain to dress, with the help of
Natty. "Here, give me your arm, Andrew; it is a stronger one than poor
Natty's. I must do it, though it kills me."
I felt the poor captain tremble all over as I helped him along to the
companion-ladder. He climbed up with the greatest difficulty; indeed,
without my assistance he could not have got along. He at length reached
the deck. He could scarcely stand, and was obliged to hold on by the
companion-hatch. His face was pale as death. His white hair hung down
on each side of his forehead, over which the skin seemed stretched like
thin parchment. His lips had lost all colour, and his blue eyes, as he
gazed around, had an unnatural brightness.
"Mr Kydd," he said, "you have compelled me at a severe cost to come up
on deck. I order you to heave the lead. And, men," he cried out,
"assist the mate to carry out my orders."
Kydd was now obliged to obey. Going to the chains, he hove the lead. I
looked over the side to watch him, and saw by the way the line slackened
that bottom was found. Just at that moment I heard some one cry out,
"See! see! What is the matter with the captain?" I ran aft. He had
fallen to the deck. "Oh, father, father! speak to me!" cried Natty, who
was by his side. I lifted up the old man's head. David Hyslop had
hastened to him, and was kneeling on the deck holding his hand. "He has
swooned," he said. "He should not have left his bed."
"Can you do anything for him?"
"We will carry him below, but I fear the worst," he whispered.
Just then the sails of the brig gave a loud, thundering flap, and yet
there was no wind; but I felt that a huge wave coming along the ocean
had passed under her. The passengers looked at each other with an
expression of dismay in their countenances, not knowing what was next
going to happen; while David and I, with the assistance of Stanley and
Mr Rowley, began to carry the captain down below. Not without
difficulty, as he was somewhat heavy, we placed him on his bed. David
again felt his pulse.
"It is all over, I fear," he said in a low voice, so that Natty could
not hear. "Bring a glass! I cannot feel his heart beating." His
brother brought a small glass from their sisters' cabin, and David held
it over Captain Page's mouth, and again felt his heart. "He is gone,"
he said. "No human skill can restore him."
Natty, who had been standing outside, now sprang into the cabin. "Oh,
tell me!" he said, looking imploringly up at David, "tell me!--is my
father likely to get better? Why will he not speak to me?"
David did not reply, but made a sign to me to lead him out of the cabin.
I saw my cousin close the old man's eyes as I took Natty by the hand
and led him to the main cabin. I thought I would tell him at once what
had happened; but a choking sensation came into my throat, and I could
not utter a word.
"Is father not getting better," he asked, after a time. "Why did he not
speak to me just now?"
"I am afraid he is not getting better," I replied; "but come on deck."
The idea struck me that I would get one of the young ladies to speak to
him, as they would tell him of his loss with more gentleness than any
one else. When we reached the deck he saw Leo, who ran up to him, and
took him aft to show him a large shark he had been watching swimming
about close astern. I seized the opportunity of speaking to Miss
Rowley, and told her what had happened.
"Oh, no, no; I am sure I cannot speak to the child. I should not know
what to say," she answered. "Just tell him yourself. I do not suppose
boys are likely to be much affected by such an occurrence."
I could not help giving her a look expressive of the surprise and pain I
felt. Could that elegant young lady be so heartless and indifferent to
the sorrow of others? My cousin Kate was sitting a little further off,
out of hearing of her brother and Natty.
"The captain is dead," I said, in a low voice; "but his poor boy does
not know it."
"Is the kind old man really gone?" she exclaimed, looking up into my
face, and a tear starting into her eye. "Oh, how sad for poor Natty!
But he must be told; and yet he will feel it dreadfully."
"Will you tell him then, Kate?" I asked. "It is necessary to do so at
once, and yet it is hard to wound his feelings."
"Yes," she said; "I will try, even though it would greatly pain me. Yes
yes!" she continued. "Come here, Natty, and sit down by me.--You need
not be afraid, Andrew, I will speak gently to him."
I was sure she would. Her sweet countenance showed me how much she felt
for the boy. I did not hear what she said, but she took his hand, and
looked kindly into his face. He saw the tears in her eyes as she went
on talking, and then, at length, he seemed to comprehend the truth, and
began to sob violently. I saw her take both his hands, and cast on him
a look of sympathy, of more avail just then than any words she could
have uttered. Directly after he started up, as if to run to the cabin
where his dead father lay; but she held him back by gentle force; and
then he sat quiet, and sobbed and sobbed as if his young heart would
break; and she again began to speak so soothingly to him, looking so
kindly into his face, her tears falling fast, that I knew he was gaining
the comfort he needed.
The mate meantime, hearing what had happened, went into the cabin, as if
to satisfy himself. When he returned on deck, I saw that he could
scarcely conceal his satisfaction as he looked about with an air of
authority.
"Men," he said--for the crew had come up, a rumour having reached them
of what had occurred--"I am now captain of this brig, and you will have
to obey my orders. You understand me. I am not going to have any of
the nonsense we had before; what I say I'll have done, and if there's
any slackness, look out for squalls."
Captain Page, I should have said, had been accustomed to have prayers
every morning and service on Sunday--a practice not common, I am sorry
to say, in those days aboard merchantmen. The good old customs of our
forefathers had long been given up, when, rough as seamen might have
been, there were far more God-fearing men among them than at present; so
I have read. I am afraid Kydd alluded to this practice of the
captain's, as well as to the kind and gentle way in which he ruled his
crew. The men touched their hats in recognition of his authority, but I
saw from the looks they cast at him, that they held him in very
different estimation to their late master. A stricter captain, perhaps,
might have kept them in better order. Many of them were somewhat rough
hands; but still his kindness had won their hearts, and, rough as they
were, they now showed unmistakable signs of sorrow for his death.
When the mate ceased speaking, and turned aft with a conceited air, I
saw them talking together, and casting no very complimentary looks
towards him. The old boatswain, indeed, Jeremiah Barker, took but
little pains to conceal his indignation. No sooner was the mate's back
turned than he lifted up his fist with a threatening gesture, which made
me fear greatly for the future discipline of the ship. As to
expostulating with a fellow like Kydd, I knew it would be utterly
useless; and I was afraid that even if Stanley or the other gentlemen
spoke to him, he would be as little likely to attend to them as to me.
I must confess that the captain's death and this conduct of Kydd made me
forget altogether the almost dying injunctions of the former to anchor
as soon as we got into shallow water. The latter also seemed entirely
to have forgotten that we were already in soundings.
"Well, sir," he said, coming up to Stanley, "I suppose we must see about
getting the old man buried. I am no hand at preaching or praying, and
so I will ask you to read the funeral service. We will do all things
ship-shape and right."
"Why, sir," exclaimed Stanley, in a tone of indignation, "the poor man's
breath is scarcely out of his body! You would not throw him overboard
at once surely!"
"We have to manage that sort of thing pretty sharply out in these
latitudes," answered Kydd. "I shall be wanting his cabin, too; and as
it may be two or three days before we reach Loando, we cannot have him
buried on shore. We are not far off that place, and I hope we shall be
able to get an observation in a short time, and see exactly where we
are."
"You are now master of the vessel, and I shall not interfere with your
authority," said Stanley; "but I think it would be more decent to wait
as long as we can for the sake of the poor little boy there. When his
feelings are more calm he would like to see his dead father."
"Oh, certainly, sir, as you please, as you please," said the mate,
turning away. "I will give you another hour to indulge your fancy, but
I have no maudlin feelings of that sort."
If the look of unutterable disgust which passed over my cousin's
countenance could have made Kydd ashamed of himself, he would have hid
his face; but he continued pacing the deck and turning his head about as
if considering which order he should next issue. I saw Kate at length
take Natty down into the captain's cabin, and I thought it best to allow
her and the boy to be alone there together at that sad moment. The
boatswain then came aft and said that he and the crew wished to see
their late captain.
"What is that for?" asked Kydd, and I thought he was going to refuse the
request.
"He was our friend, and we would like to have a last look at his kind
face," answered the boatswain.
"Well, if the passengers do not mind your going into the cabin, I do
not," said the mate, turning aside.
Perhaps he did not quite like the expression of old Barker's
countenance. I led the way into the cabin, and the crew came, one by
one, following the boatswain. "Well, you was an honest, kind man as
ever lived, and that's more than can be said of him who has stepped into
your shoes," said old Barker, apostrophising the captain. "He is less
of a sailor than your little finger was; and as to sense, he has not as
much as was in your thumb-nail." The remarks of the other men, as they
passed by, were still less complimentary to the new master; and had he
heard them, he might well have doubted his power of keeping his crew in
order. I felt, indeed, very anxious, for though I had thought very
little of Kydd, I was not aware how he was despised and detested by the
men.
I more than ever wished that a breeze would spring up, that they might
have something to do, and that we might get away from this dangerous
part of the coast. The calm, however, still continued, and at length
the time came for lowering our late captain into his ocean grave. The
sailmaker came aft with the boatswain to superintend the operation of
enclosing him in a hammock, into which they fastened a pig of iron
ballast.
"Them sharks shan't have him, nohow," observed the sailmaker; "for
though the bottom may be a long way off, he will reach it pretty
quickly, and lie quiet there till the day when we all come up from the
land or sea--it will not then matter where we have lain in the
meantime--to answer for ourselves. I only wish I was as sure to give as
good an account of myself as he is."
"Be quick there!" cried the mate from the deck. "There is a breeze
coming up, I have a notion, and we shall have to trim sails. I wish to
get this business over first."
Kate had been keeping Natty by her side while this was going forward.
Two of the other men now came below and assisted to carry the captain's
body on deck, where my cousin Stanley had got his prayer-book, and stood
ready. The old boatswain had thrown a flag over the body, now placed on
a plank, one end of which projected out of a port. While the funeral
service of the Church of England was read, not a sound was heard except
the unrepressed sobs which burst from poor Natty's bosom, and the
creaking of the yards and blocks as the brig moved imperceptibly from
side to side. Then came the dull, sullen sound of a plunge, as, old
Barker lifting up the end of the plank, the body slid off into the
water. As I looked over the side I could see the white shrouded figure
descending into the depths of ocean. Just as it disappeared, I caught
sight of the dark form of a huge shark gliding towards it; but I had
hopes that it had sunk far below the creature's reach before he could
seize it.
"Stow away that plank," said the mate, the instant the captain's body
had been launched overboard. "I wish this breeze would come, though,"
he added, glancing round.
Still he gave no orders to heave the lead, as the late captain had
advised. I knew well enough that to remind him would only make him less
likely to do it, so I said nothing, though I kept looking over into the
water to see if there was any change of colour which might be produced
by our getting nearer the land. Now again came one of those sullen
flaps of the sails, showing that though we might seem to be at rest, the
vessel was occasionally moved by no gentle force; and I could
distinguish, as I looked eastward, a smooth undulation which seemed
rolling away in that direction. Still the sky remained obscured as
before, and a gauze-like mist hung over the ocean. The atmosphere felt
hotter and more oppressive than ever. The passengers remained on deck,
for the cabins were almost unbearable. The ladies were trying to read
or work, but Kate alone continued to ply her active fingers. Miss
Rowley scarcely turned a page, while little Bella kept looking with her
large blue eyes at poor Natty, who sat with his head resting on his
hands, utterly unable to recover himself. As I looked over the side I
observed that the undulations I have spoken of became more and more
frequent, on each occasion, as they passed, giving the brig a slow
shake, and making the sails flap loudly as before. The crew were
talking together, and, led by old Barker, were ranging the cable for
anchoring, Mr Kydd having disappeared below. Suddenly he returned on
deck.
"Who ordered you to do that?" he exclaimed in an angry tone. "Did I
tell you I was going to bring the ship to an anchor?"
"No, sir," answered the boatswain; "but any one who is acquainted with
these parts must know that it is the only thing to be done to save the
brig and our lives. For who can tell that we may not be ashore any
moment!"
"You are a mutinous rascal," exclaimed Kydd. "I will not allow the brig
to be brought to an anchor till I see fit. We are fifty miles off the
coast, and more than that, perhaps."
"What, with fifty fathom only under our keel!" exclaimed the boatswain.
"What is the meaning, too, of these breakers away in the south-east?
Mr Kydd, we must anchor, and you ought to know it."
I looked out in the direction towards which the boatswain pointed. The
sun was already sinking into the ocean, and his rays lighted up a line
of foam, or what looked like it, in the south-east.
Kydd, on the boatswain's remark, broke out into a furious passion, and,
hurrying into his cabin, appeared again with a brace of pistols in his
hand. Placing them in his belt, he walked the deck, muttering
incoherently to himself. No one interfered. I felt unwilling to go
below, though the steward called me to supper. The sun had long
disappeared--the moon rose, and shed a bright silvery light upon the
ocean. It was perfectly calm; and as, on looking round, I could see no
breakers, nor hear their sound, I at length turned in. I was too
anxious, however, to sleep long. On going on deck and again looking
out, there I saw, not a quarter of a mile off a black ledge of rocks
rising some feet out of the water. The brig was drifting by them at a
rate which showed how strong a current was running. What was my
surprise to see a boat coming off from the rock. "What is that?" I
asked.
"Why, I have treated one mutinous rascal as I intend to treat you if you
follow his example," answered Kydd, who heard my question.
I was too much astonished to speak. After pacing the deck for a few
minutes I went below to consult with Stanley.
"We must put him under arrest," he said at length. "But go on deck and
learn how the men take the proceeding."
On my return I found the boat alongside. The crew climbed on board.
Could they really have executed so barbarous an order! Great was my
relief to find the boatswain among them.
"You rascals, I ordered you to land him on these rocks!" exclaimed Kydd,
when he caught sight of the old man.
"So we did; and he ordered us to take him off again," answered one of
the crew. "We have as good a right to obey him as you, Mr Kydd. If
you was to die, like the captain and first mate, he's the only officer
left to take charge of the brig."
Kydd was a coward. This answer silenced him, and without uttering a
word he went below.
The passengers assembled at breakfast the next morning with anxious
faces. They knew that something was very wrong, but could not exactly
tell what. The calm continued. A thick mist hung over the ocean as on
the previous day, the rocks were no longer in sight, the vessel floated
tranquilly on the treacherous waters. Kydd had completely recovered
himself. He had the awning spread, and with a smiling countenance
invited the passengers to come on deck, and tried to make himself
agreeable to Miss Rowley. Some time thus passed. At last I saw the
boatswain and several of the men coming up.
"Mr Kydd," said the former, "I have to ask you whether you intend to
anchor, and try to keep the ship out of danger or not?"
"Not till the land is in sight, and I see the necessity," answered Kydd
quite calmly. He said nothing more for a minute or so. Then suddenly
he exclaimed in a furious tone, "But I am not going to be dictated to by
a set of mutinous scoundrels." I need not repeat all his words.
Just at that moment I heard that peculiar low, suppressed roar which a
seaman knows so well to indicate breakers I begged the mate to listen,
telling him what I had heard, but he was deaf to reason, and declared he
would only anchor when he saw fit. He seemed to have gone out of his
mind, and I felt that I should be justified in assisting the crew in
putting him under restraint; but he was in reality as much in his senses
as ever, though under the influence of his passion and obstinacy. Just
at that moment another roller came in toward the brig from the westward,
and the next instant all on deck were almost thrown off their feet. A
blow was felt which made her shake fore and aft, and the water, which
had hitherto not even rippled against her side, now broke over her in a
shower of spray. The passengers started up. Kate clasped her little
sister round the neck, and seized the arm of her brother David, who was
standing near her. "What is the matter? what has happened?" shrieked
out Miss Rowley in an attitude expressive of her terror.
"We are on shore," cried some of the men; "that is what has happened."
Such was too truly the case. The old captain's warnings had been
neglected, and his prognostications were thus terribly fulfilled.