The next morning, as there was no particular work on hand, Ready and Mr
Seagrave took the lines to add to the stock of the fish-pond. As the
weather was fine and cool, William accompanied them, that he might have
the benefit of the fresh air. As they passed the garden, they observed
that the seeds sown had already sprung up an inch or two above the
ground, and that, apparently none of them had missed. While Ready and
Mr Seagrave were fishing, and William sitting near them, William said
to his father--
"Many of the islands near us are inhabited; are they not, papa?"
"Yes, but not those very near us, I believe. At all events, I never
heard any voyagers mention having seen inhabitants on the isles near
which we suppose the one we are on to be."
"What sort of people are the islanders in these seas?"
"They are various. The New Zealanders are the most advanced in
civilisation. The natives of Van Diemen's Land and Australia are some
portions of them of a very degraded class--indeed, little better than
the beasts of the field."
"I have seen them," said Ready; "and I think I can mention a people, not
very numerous indeed, who are still more like the beasts of the field.
I saw them once; and, at first, thought they were animals, and not human
beings."
"Indeed, Ready; where may that be?"
"In the Great Andaman Isles, at the mouth of the Bay of Bengal. I once
anchored in distress in Port Cornwallis, and the morning after we
anchored, we saw some black things going upon all fours under the trees
that came down to the water's edge. We got the telescope, and perceived
then that they were men and women, for they stood upright."
"Did you ever come into contact with them?"
"No, sir, I did not; but I met, at Calcutta, a soldier who had; for at
one time the East India Company intended making a settlement on the
island, and sent some troops there. He said that they caught two of
them; that they were not more than four feet high, excessively stupid
and shy; they had no houses or huts to live in, and all that they did
was to pile up some bushes to keep the wind off."
"Had they any arms?"
"Yes, sir, they had bows and arrows; but so miserably made, and so
small, that they could not kill anything but very small birds."
"Where did the people come from who inhabited these islands, papa?"
"That is difficult to say, William; but it is supposed that they have
become inhabited in much the same way as this our island has been--that
is, by people in canoes or boats driven out to sea, and saving their
lives by effecting a landing, as we have done."
"I believe that's the truth," replied Ready; "I heard say that the
Andaman Isles were supposed to have been first inhabited by a slaver
full of negroes, who were wrecked on the coast in a typhoon."
"What is a typhoon, Ready?"
"It is much the same as a hurricane, William; it comes on in India at
the change of the monsoons."
"But what are monsoons?"
"Winds that blow regular from one quarter so many months during the
year, and then change round and blow from another just as long."
"And what are the trade-winds, which I heard poor Captain Osborn talking
about after we left Madeira?"
"The trade-winds blow on the equator, and several degrees north and
south of it, from the east to the west, following the course of the
sun."
"Is it the sun which produces these winds?"
"Yes, the extreme heat of the sun between the tropics rarefies the air
as the earth turns round, and the trade-winds are produced by the
rushing in of the less heated air."
"Yes, William; and the trade-winds produce what they call the Gulf
Stream," observed Ready.
"How is that? I have heard it spoken of, papa."
"The winds, constantly following the sun across the Atlantic Ocean, and
blowing from east to west, have great effect upon the sea, which is
forced up into the Gulf of Mexico (where it is stopped by the shores of
America), so that it is many feet higher in the Gulf than in the eastern
part of the Atlantic. This accumulation of water must of course find a
vent somewhere, and it does in what is called the Gulf Stream, by which
the waters are poured out, running very strong to the northward, along
the shores of America, and then [westward] eastward, passing not far
from Newfoundland, until its strength is spent somewhere to the
northward of the Azores."
"The Gulf Stream, William," said Ready, "is always several degrees
warmer than the sea in general, which is, they say, owing to its waters
remaining in the Gulf of Mexico so long, where the heat of the sun is so
great."
"What do you mean by the land and sea breezes in the West Indies, and
other hot climates, papa?"
"It is the wind first blowing off from the shore, and then blowing from
the sea towards the shore, during certain hours of the day, which it
does regularly every twenty-four hours. This is also the effect of the
heat of the sun. The sea breeze commences in the morning, and in the
afternoon it dies away, when the land breeze commences, which lasts till
midnight."
"There are latitudes close to the trade-winds," said Ready, "where the
wind is not certain, where ships have been becalmed for weeks; the crews
have exhausted the water on board, and they have suffered dreadfully.
We call them the Horse latitudes--why, I do not know. But it is time
for us to leave off, and for Master William to go into the house."
They returned home, and after supper Ready went on with his narrative.
"I left off at the time that I was sent on board of the man-of-war, and
I was put down on the books as a supernumerary boy. I was on board of
her for nearly four years, and we were sent about from port to port, and
from clime to clime, until I grew a strong, tall lad, and was put into
the mizen-top. I found it very comfortable. I did my duty, and the
consequence was, I never was punished; for a man may serve on board of a
man-of-war without fear of being punished, if he only does his duty, and
the duty is not very hard either; not like on board of the merchant
vessels, where there are so few hands--there it is hard work. Of
course, there are some captains who command men-of-war who are harsh and
severe; but it was my good fortune to be with a very mild and steady
captain, who was very sorry when he was obliged to punish the men,
although he would not overlook any improper conduct. The only thing
which was a source of constant unhappiness to me was, that I could not
get to England again, and see my mother. I had written two or three
letters, but never had an answer; and at last I became so impatient that
I determined to run away the very first opportunity which might offer.
We were then stationed in the West Indies, and I had very often
consultations with Hastings on the subject, for he was quite as anxious
to get away as I was; and we had agreed that we would start off together
the very first opportunity. At last we anchored in Port Royal, Jamaica,
and there was a large convoy of West India ships, laden with sugar,
about to sail immediately. We knew that if we could get on board of
one, they would secrete us until the time of sailing, for they were
short-handed enough, the men-of-war having pressed every man they could
lay their hands upon. There was but one chance, and that was by
swimming on board of one of the vessels during the night-time, and that
was easy enough, as they were anchored not a hundred yards from our own
ship. What we were afraid of was the sharks, which were so plentiful in
the harbour. However, the night before the convoy was to sail we made
up our minds that we would run the risk, for we were so impatient to
escape that we did not care for anything. It was in the middle watch--I
recollect it, and shall recollect it all my life, as if it were last
night--that we lowered ourselves down very softly from the bows of the
ship, and as soon as we were in the water we struck out for one of the
West Indiamen close to us. The sentry at the gangway saw the light in
the water made by our swimming through it, and he hailed, of course; we
gave no answer, but swam as fast as we could; for after he had hailed we
heard a bustle, and we knew that the officer of the watch was manning a
boat to send after us. I had just caught hold of the cable of the West
Indiaman, and was about to climb up by it, for I was a few yards before
Hastings, when I heard a loud shriek, and, turning round, perceived a
shark plunging down with Hastings in his jaws. I was so frightened,
that for a short time I could not move: at last I recovered myself, and
began to climb up by the cable as fast as I could. I was just in time,
for another shark made a rush at me; and although I was clear out of the
water more than two feet, he sprung up and just caught my shoe by the
heel, which he took down with him. Fear gave me strength, and in a
second or two afterwards I was up at the hawse-holes, and the men on
board, who had been looking over the bows, and had witnessed poor
Hastings' death, helped me on board, and hurried me down below, for the
boat from our ship was now nearly alongside. When the officer of the
boat came on board, they told him they had perceived us both in the
water, close to their vessel, and that the sharks had taken us down. As
the shriek of Hastings was heard by the people in the boat, the officer
believed that it was the case, and returned to the ship. I heard the
drum beat to quarters on board of the man-of-war, that they might
ascertain who were the two men who had attempted to swim away, and a few
minutes afterwards they beat the retreat, having put down D.D. against
my name on the books, as well as against that of poor Hastings."
"What does D.D. mean?"
"D stands for discharged from the service; D.D. stands for dead,"
replied Ready; "and it was only through the mercy of Providence that I
was not so."
"It was a miraculous escape indeed," observed Mr Seagrave.
"Yes, indeed, sir; I can hardly describe my sensations for some hours
afterwards. I tried to sleep, but could not--I was in agony. The
moment I slumbered, I thought the shark had hold of me, and I would
start up and shriek; and then I said my prayers and tried to go to sleep
again, but it was of no use. The captain of the West Indiaman was
afraid that my shrieks would be heard, and he sent me down a tumbler of
rum to drink off; this composed me, and at last I fell into a sound
sleep. When I awoke, I found that the ship was under weigh and with all
canvas set, surrounded by more than a hundred other vessels; the
men-of-war who took charge of the convoy, firing guns and making signals
incessantly. It was a glorious sight, and we were bound for Old
England. I felt so happy, that I thought I would risk the jaws of
another shark to have regained my liberty, and the chance of being once
more on shore in my own country, and able to go to Newcastle and see my
poor mother."
"I am afraid that your miraculous escape did you very little good,
Ready," observed Mrs Seagrave, "if you got over it so soon."
"Indeed, madam, it was not so; that was only the feeling which the first
sight of the vessels under weigh for England produced upon me. I can
honestly say that I was a better and more serious person. The very next
night, when I was in my hammock, I prayed very fervently; and there
happened to be a very good old Scotchman on board, the second mate, who
talked very seriously to me, and pointed out how wonderful had been my
preservation, and I felt it. It was he who first read the Bible with
me, and made me understand it, and, I may say, become fond of it. I did
my duty on our passage home as a seaman before the mast, and the captain
was pleased with me. The ship I was in was bound to Glasgow, and we
parted company with the convoy at North Foreland, and arrived safe in
port. The captain took me to the owners, who paid me fifteen guineas
for my services during the voyage home; and as soon as I received the
money, I set off for Newcastle as fast as I could. I had taken a place
on the outside of the coach, and I entered into conversation with a
gentleman who sat next to me. I soon found out that he belonged to
Newcastle, and I first inquired if Mr Masterman, the ship-builder, was
still alive. He told me that he had been dead about three months. `And
to whom did he leave his money?' I asked, `for he was very rich, and
had no kin.' `He had no relations,' replied the gentleman, `and he left
all his money to build an hospital and almshouses. He had a partner in
his business latterly, and he left the yard and all the stores to him, I
believe, because he did not know whom to leave it to. There was a lad
whom I knew for certain he intended to have adopted and to have made his
heir--a lad of the name of Ready; but he ran away to sea, and has never
been heard of since. It is supposed that he was lost in a prize, for he
was traced so far. Foolish boy that he was. He might now have been a
man of fortune.'
"`Very foolish indeed,' replied I.
"`Yes; but he has harmed more than himself. His poor mother, who doted
upon him, as soon as she heard that he was lost, pined away by degrees,
and--'
"`You don't mean to say that she is dead?' interrupted I, seizing the
gentleman by the arm.
"`Yes,' replied he, looking at me with surprise; `she died last year of
a broken heart.'
"I fell back on the luggage behind me, and should have fallen off the
coach if the gentleman had not held me. He called to the coachman to
pull up the horses, and they took me down, and put me inside; and as the
coach rolled on, I cried as if my heart would break."
Ready appeared so much affected, that Mr Seagrave proposed that he
should leave off his history for the present.
"Thank you, sir, it will be better; for I feel my old eyes dim with
tears, even now. It's a dreadful thing in after-life to reflect upon,
that your foolish conduct has hastened the death of a most kind mother;
but so it was, William, and I give you the truth for your advantage."