The adventures of Snowball and his _protege_, from the blowing up of the
_Pandora_ until six suns had risen and gone down over the ocean, if not
so varied as those of Ben Brace and his _protege_, were nevertheless of
sufficient interest to deserve a brief narration.
Supported by the few sticks which he had been able to draw together, he
had remained during the rest of the night in the midst of the floating
fragments.
He had listened to the wild shouts of vengeful rage, proceeding from the
throats of the slaves as they clutched at the great raft, and were
beaten back by those who occupied it. He had seen the broad sail
suddenly hoisted, and the dark mass gradually gliding away over the
ocean. He had heard many an agonising yell as, one by one, the few
strong swimmers who survived the rest either sank by exhaustion or were
dragged down in the jaws of the numerous sharks; until, the last shriek
having sounded in his ears, all became silent as the tomb, while the
sombre surface of the sea once more lay motionless around him. Even the
ravening monsters, for a moment, seemed to have forsaken the spot,--as
if each, having secured a sufficient prey, had gone down to devour it
undisturbed in the dark unfathomed caverns of the deep.
When morning dawned upon the scene, although many objects met the eye of
the negro and his companion, there was no human being within sight; and
Snowball knew that, with the exception of the six men who had rowed off
in the gig, and the crew upon the great raft, there were no other
survivors of the slaver.
The crew having spread a sail to get out of reach of the drowning
wretches who were clutching at their raft, the latter was soon carried
out of sight; while the six in the gig had rowed off as fast as they
were able, in order to get out of reach of their own companions! For
these reasons, when day broke over the ocean, neither boat nor raft were
visible from the spot where the catastrophe had occurred.
It may appear strange that none of the living cargo of the slaver had
succeeded in saving themselves, by clinging to some fragment of the
wreck; and Snowball thought so at the time.
The truth was, that those who could swim had struck out after the raft,
and had followed it so far that they were not able to swim back to the
burning vessel; while the others, in the wild terror produced by the
proximity of the flames, had leaped despairingly into the sea, and sunk
upon the instant.
The early sunbeams, as they fell slantingly over the surface of the sea,
told the negro that he was alone,--alone with the little Lalee,--alone
in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean,--afloat upon a few sticks,--without
a morsel of food to eat, without a drop of water to drink!
It was a terrible situation,--sufficient to produce despair even in the
stoutest heart.
But Snowball was not one of the despairing sort. He had been too often
in peril of life--both by sea and land--to be unnerved even in that
dread hour; and instead of permitting his spirits to become prostrated,
he bethought him of how he might make the best of the circumstances by
which he was surrounded.
An object that came under his eye, just as the day began to break,
kindled within him a faint gleam of hope, and urged to making an effort
for the salvation of himself and his helpless companion. This object
was a small keg, or beaker, which chanced to be floating near him, and
which, from some mark upon it, Snowball recognised. He knew that it had
been standing in a corner of the caboose, previous to the blowing up of
the bark; and, moreover, that it contained several gallons of fresh
water, which he had himself surreptitiously abstracted from the common
stock, previous to the time that the slaver's crew had agreed to being
put upon rations.
It was but the work of a minute to secure this keg, and attach it by a
strong cord to the piece of timber on which the ex-cook was seated
astride.
But for this unexpected supply of water Snowball might probably have
yielded to despair. Without water to drink he could not have reckoned
on a long lease of life,--either for himself or his _protege_. So
opportunely had the keg come before his eyes as to seem a Providential
interference; and the belief or fancy that it was so stimulated him to a
further search among the fragments of the shattered ship.
There were many queer things around him,--like himself bobbing about
upon the tiny waves. One, however, soon monopolised his attention; and
that was a barrel of somewhat flimsy structure, and about the size of
those usually employed for carrying flour. Snowball recognised it also
as an old acquaintance in the store-room, and knew that it was filled
with the best kind of biscuit,--a private stock belonging to the
captain.
Its contents could not fail to be saturated with salt-water, for the
barrel was not water-tight; but the ex-cook could dry them in the sun,
and render them, if not palatable, at least eatable.
The biscuit-barrel was soon fished up out of the water, and placed high
and dry upon the little raft.
Snowball was next struck with the necessity of improving the quality of
his craft, by giving it increase both in size and strength. With this
intention--after having possessed himself of an oar, out of several that
were adrift--he commenced paddling about among the floating fragments,
here and there picking up such pieces as appeared best suited to his
purpose.
In a short while he succeeded in collecting a sufficient number of spars
and other pieces of timber,--among which figured a portion of his own
old tenement, the caboose,--to form a raft as large as he might require;
and to his great satisfaction he saw around him the very things that
would render it _seaworthy_. Bobbing about on the waves, and at no
great distance, were half a dozen empty water-casks. There had been too
many of them aboard the slaver: since their emptiness was the original
cause of the catastrophe that had ensued. But there were not too many
for Snowball's present purpose; and, after paddling first to one and
then another, he secured each in turn, and lashed them to his raft, in
such fashion, that the great hogsheads, sitting higher in the water than
the timbers of the raft, formed a sort of parapet around it.
This task accomplished, he proceeded to collect from the wreck such
other articles as he fancied might be of service to him; and, thus
occupied, he spent several days on the spot where the _Pandora_ had gone
to pieces.
The slight breezes that arose from time to time, and again subsided, had
not separated his raft from the other objects still left floating near.
In whatever direction they went, so went he: since all were drifting
together.
The idea had never occurred to the negro to set up a sail and endeavour
to get away from the companionship of the inanimate objects around
him,--souvenirs as they were of a fearful disaster. Or rather it had
occurred to him, and was rejected as unworthy of being entertained.
Snowball, without knowing much of the theory of navigation, had
sufficient practical acquaintance with the great Atlantic Ocean,--
especially that part of it where lies the track of the dreaded "middle
passage,"--long remembered by the transported slave,--Snowball, I say,
was sufficiently acquainted with his present whereabouts, to know that a
sail set upon his raft, and carrying him hither and thither, would not
add much to the chances of his being rescued from a watery grave. His
only hope lay in being picked up by some passing vessel; and, feeling
convinced of this, he made no effort to go one way or the other, but
suffered himself to be drifted about, along with the other waifs of the
wreck, whithersoever it pleased the winds or the currents of the ocean
to carry him.