The "vulture of the sea," borne upon broad wing, and wandering over the
wide Atlantic, suddenly suspends his flight to look down upon an object
that has attracted his attention.
It is a raft, with a disc not much larger than a dining-table,
constructed out of two small spars of a ship,--the dolphin-striker and
spritsail yard,--with two broad planks and some narrower ones lashed
crosswise, and over all two or three pieces of sail-cloth carelessly
spread.
Slight as is the structure, it is occupied by two individuals,--a man
and a boy. The latter is lying along the folds of the sail-cloth,
apparently asleep. The man stands erect, with his hand to his forehead,
shading the sun from his eyes, and scanning the surface of the sea with
inquiring glances.
At his feet, lying among the creases of the canvas, are a handspike, a
pair of boat oars, and an axe. Nothing more is perceptible of the raft,
even to the keen eye of the albatross.
The bird continues its flight towards the west. Ten miles farther on it
once more poises itself on soaring wing, and directs its glance
downward.
Another raft is seen motionless upon the calm surface of the sea, but
differing from the former in almost everything but the name. It is
nearly ten times as large; constructed out of the masts, yards, hatches,
portions of the bulwarks, and other timbers of a ship; and rendered
buoyant by a number of empty water-casks lashed along its edges. A
square of canvas spread between two extemporised masts, a couple of
casks, an empty biscuit-box, some oars, handspikes, and other maritime
implements, lie upon the raft; and around these are more than thirty
men, seated, standing, lying,--in short, in almost every attitude.
Some are motionless, as if asleep; but there is that in their prostrate
postures, and in the wild expression of their features, that betokens
rather the sleep of intoxication. Others, by their gestures and loud,
riotous talk, exhibit still surer signs of drunkenness; and the tin cup,
reeking with rum, is constantly passing from hand to hand. A few,
apparently sober, but haggard and hungry-like, sit or stand erect upon
the raft, casting occasional glances over the wide expanse, with but
slight show of hope, fast changing to despair.
Well may the sea-vulture linger over this group, and contemplate their
movements with expectant eye. The instincts of the bird tell him, that
ere long he may look forward to a bountiful banquet!
Ten miles farther to the west, though unseen to those upon the raft, the
far-piercing gaze of the albatross detects another unusual object upon
the surface of the sea. At this distance it appears only a speck not
larger than the bird itself, though in reality it is a small boat,--a
ship's gig,--in which six men are seated. There has been no attempt to
hoist a sail; there is none in the gig. There are oars, but no one is
using them. They have been dropped in despair; and the boat lies
becalmed just as the two rafts. Like them, it appears to be adrift upon
the ocean.
Could the albatross exert a reasoning faculty it would know that these
various objects indicated a wreck. Some vessel has either foundered and
gone to the bottom, or has caught fire and perished in the flames.
Ten miles to the eastward of the lesser raft might be discovered truer
traces of the lost ship. There might be seen the _debris_ of charred
timbers, telling that she has succumbed, not to the storm, but to fire;
and the fragments, scattered over the circumference of a mile, disclose
further that the fire ended abruptly in some terrible explosion.
Upon the stern of the gig still afloat may be read the name _Pandora_.
The same word may be seen painted on the water-casks buoying up the big
raft; and on the two planks forming the transverse pieces of the lesser
one appears _Pandora_ in still larger letters: for these were the boards
that exhibited the name of the ship on each side of her bowsprit, and
which had been torn off to construct the little raft by those who now
occupy it.
Beyond doubt the lost ship was the _Pandora_.