WHAT FOLLOWED.
After that night a long time of dreamy stupor seemed to elapse,
before any distinct sense of existence forced itself upon me. Then I
seemed to wake from a heavy slumber (which had frequently been
crowded by dreadful images), and found myself in bed, and in what
appeared to be a little state-room that opened off a ship's cabin.
The roof seemed close and near my eyes; but the bed was soft and
screened by green curtains, which hung upon a brass rod. The little
panelled apartment had shelves crammed with books and bundles of
papers; a gun, a cutlass, and telescope were hung on hooks; and from
the deck above, a bull's-eye threw the sun's rays vertically down
upon me. I saw all these details at a glance, but believed them to
be portions of a dream--that I was still tossing in the open boat,
with my dead or dying companions rolling about in the bilge-water
below the thwarts--so my last thoughts of loneliness, of despair, and
coming death recurred to me in all their bitterness.
Gradually, however, the warmth and softness of the couch on which I
lay became too confirmed and real to be doubted; and now a hot but
soothing liquid, like mulled wine, was poured between my lips. I
drank deeply, and not until the draught was ended did I open my heavy
eyes, and again look round me, fearing to dispel the delicious
illusion of imbibing a liquid, for the wild agonies of unassuaged
thirst were still in my memory.
A jolly and bluff-looking seaman, well tanned by exposure to the
weather, and well whiskered; squat in figure, merry in eye, and
hearty in voice, wearing a straw hat and pea-jacket, with a handsome
gold ring to secure the ends of his black silk neck-tie, was holding
back the green curtain, and surveying me with some solicitude of
manner.
"How do you feel yourself now, my lad?" he asked.
"Weak--giddy--ill--Hartly--Bob Hartly, keep her head to the break of
the sea, or we shall be swamped," said I, incoherently.
"By Jove, I thought the mulled port would bring you up with a round
turn and make you speak if nothing else would."
"Where am I?" said I, partially recovering again.
"On board ship at last."
"Which--what ship?"
"The barque _Princess_ of London."
"Thank God--thank God!" I exclaimed; but though my breast heaved with
wild emotions of joy, not a tear would come, for even that fount of
tenderness seemed dried up within me.
"We picked you up when in an awful plight, my poor fellow! Your boat
was half full of water, with two dead bodies washing about in it."
"Two!"
"Yes--two, and you were lying in the stern-sheets looking as pale and
as stiff as the others. We were just about to send you over to
leeward with a cold shot at your heels, when, fortunately, some signs
of life escaped you."
"And you, sir----"
"Am the master of this craft--Captain John Baylis--I think you won't
forget the name," he added, smiling.
"Forget it! Oh, sir, how shall I ever forget it?" I groaned. "But
Hartly--poor Bob Hartly!"
"Who was he?"
"_Was_--is he then dead?" I exclaimed.
"I cannot say, until you tell me more."
"He was Master of the _Leda_, and my dear friend. She foundered in a
tempest, and those you found in the longboat were the last of
twenty-five stout fellows who sailed in her from St. John's,
Newfoundland, on the 17th of March."
"Is he about my size; with very dark whiskers and short curly hair?"
"Yes."
"Then he is getting on famously, and lies in my chief mate's
berth--but you must not speak any more at present, try to sleep; a
little time, and I will be with you again."
This was joyous intelligence!
In short, I learned by degrees that Hartly and I were the sole
survivors of the crew of the _Leda_. Paul Reeves and Jones the
seaman had been found dead in the long boat by the crew of the
barque, who buried them in blankets, each with a heavy shot at their
heels. After this they scuttled the boat, as the sight of her
suggested unpleasant ideas.
The vessel which picked us up proved to be the barque _Princess_, a
stately Blackwaller of sixteen hundred tons register, Captain John
Baylis, from Quebec, bound for the Cape of Good Hope, with a general
cargo. Our poor boat, tossing on the sea, had been descried about
daybreak, by a man who was at work on the maintopgallant yard. She
immediately bore down upon us, and hence our rescue at a time so
critical. I must have been insensible for about four hours when her
crew found me; and but for their ministrations, could not have
survived another.
Fortunately for Hartly and me, the jolly and hospitable captain had
his wife on board, and she nursed us with the tenderness of a mother.
Indeed, honest Baylis and his whole crew vied with her in their
attention to us.
Our feet and legs were so soddened by the bitter, briny water in
which they had been so long immersed, that for some days
mortification was dreaded; but as Mrs. Baylis had six goats on board,
she made, and skilfully applied, poultices of bread and milk, which
ameliorated the symptoms and our sufferings.
Food and liquids were administered to us in homoeopathic doses at
first; and several days elapsed before our interiors became
accustomed to receive their usual quantities. At times we were both
somewhat bewildered in mind--especially when the vessel encountered
rough weather, and rolled much. Then Hartly and I were sure to
imagine ourselves again in the longboat on the desolate sea, with the
starving and dying around us; and long the voices of poor Hans
Peterkin, of Paul Reeves, and the notes of Cuffy's violin, lingered
in my ear, especially in dreams.
In about a fortnight--thanks chiefly to the kindness and nursing of
Mrs. Baylis--we were able to sit on a sofa under an awning on the
poop-deck; for we were now in warmer latitudes, and a protection from
the sun of June was necessary. We greeted each other like two
kinsmen who had escaped death; but Hartly mourned the loss of the
_Leda_ and of her crew, as they were all picked men, whom he never
paid off on entering a port, but who had sailed with him to all parts
of the world, and would as readily have thought of attempting to fly
in the air as of leaving the poor old _Leda_.
For many days her loss, and the anecdotes connected with it, formed a
staple subject for our conversation, until other thoughts, with
returning health, forced themselves upon us; for those who are in the
world must live for it.
The _Princess_ was bound, I have said, for the Cape of Good Hope,
where she would, perhaps, take a freight home for London; but there
was an equal probability of her being chartered for Bombay, Hong
Kong, or anywhere else, so that on reaching Cape Town there would be
an immediate necessity for Hartly and me looking about us, and
seeking means for returning to the great metropolis.
As we approached the line, the heat increased rapidly, awnings were
spread over the decks, wind-sails were rigged down the hatchways, and
skeets over the sides were resorted to daily.
The latter are pieces of grooved wood, for throwing water over the
planks or outer sheathing of a ship, to prevent them from being rent
by the heat of the sun in warm climates.
For some weeks Hartly and I were totally unable to make ourselves of
any use, so great was the lassitude which succeeded our recent
sufferings, and rapid transition from starvation and misery to
comfortable quarters, and from the Regions of Ice to those of the
burning sun; for after passing St. Jago, the most southerly of the
Cape de Verd Isles, we rapidly approached the line; and then Captain
Baylis, his wife, Hartly, and others, prepared letters for home, to
be left at the Isle of Ascension, or given to the first ship that
passed us for England.
Day after day I reclined listlessly under the awning, watching the
shining sea, on which many an argonauta now was floating; and, in a
warm latitude, singularly beautiful are those little "Portuguese
men-of-war," as our sailors term them, when whole fleets of them may
be seen sailing past, with their purple sails up and rowing swiftly,
with all their tentacula or feelers out.
But, on being approached by anything, in go the tentacula, and down
sinks the miniature sail, as the fish concentrates itself in its
shell, and both vanish together, like a fairy in the sea.