CHAPTER THREE.

Captain Willis was walking the deck, with his spy-glass in his hand,

while every now and then he stopped anxiously to scan the horizon in

every direction, in the hopes of discerning the well-known signs of the

long-wished-for breeze.

"Well, Captain Willis, when is the wind coming?" asked one of the young

ladies of the merry group I have described, as he passed them in his

walk. "We have agreed that you sailors are very idle people, not to

make your ship move faster. You do it on purpose, we are sure, to enjoy

our society."

"The temptation would be great, ladies, I own," said the captain,

bowing. "But, I assure you, it depends as much upon yourselves as upon

me and my officers; and, I think, if you were all to set to work and

whistle with a right good-will, you might soon bring the wind down upon

us."

"Oh then we will all try," exclaimed the merry girls in chorus. "We see

you want to get rid of us as soon as you can." Thereon they all began

to try and whistle, and some succeeded very well, though the chorus was

not very harmonious.

I suspect the worthy captain had long before perceived the undoubted

signs of wind on the water, for there was a quizzical look in his eye as

he spoke; and each turn he made he encouraged them to proceed, and to

whistle louder and louder, assuring them it was certain to have a good

effect.

Not many minutes had passed, during which the young ladies had tried to

whistle till their mouths ached, when the voice of Captain Willis was

heard ordering the crew to trim sails. With alacrity they flew to their

posts at the joyful sound; and those who but a minute before were so

silent and inert, were now all life and animation.

Still the ocean appeared as smooth and shining as before; but in the

distance, away to the north-east, there was a line of dark-blue, which

seemed to be gradually extending itself on either hand, and to be slowly

advancing in the direction where the ship lay. The glassy surface of

the water was every now and then slightly ruffled by gentle, scarcely

perceptible breaths of wind, such as are called by seamen "cats'-paws,"

from their having, I suppose, no more effect in disturbing the water

than would the paw of a cat. They came and went continually. Some of

the more lofty and lighter sails of the ship bulged out for an instant,

and then again flapped against the masts, and all was calm as before.

"If you please, young ladies, I must trouble you to whistle a little

longer," said Captain Willis, with one of his most polite bows, and a

merry smile lurking in his eye. "You see the good service you have

already done; but the wind seems coy, and requires a longer wooing."

They all laughed very much, and declared that they could not whistle any

more; but still they all essayed again; and sweet Ellen Barrow screwed

her pretty mouth up till her lips looked, indeed, like two ripe

cherries; and Captain Willis aiding them with his clear whistle, the

wind was not long in answering the summons. The spokes of the wheel

were seen once more to revolve in the hands of the helmsman, the sails

bulged out more regularly, and if they fell back, they quickly again

filled till every one drew steadily, and the huge ship moved slowly

through the ocean on her proper course. It was pleasant to the

passengers to hear the rippling sound of the water against the sides of

the ship, and to see it bubbling up so briskly under her bows; and still

more pleasant was it to feel the fresh air fanning the cheeks, and to

know that it was wafting them on to their yet far distant bourne. The

fresh air had a reviving effect on every one, and many who had sat

silent and melancholy began to move about, and to laugh and talk with

the rest of their companions.

About an hour after the breeze had sprung up, the captain was observed

to turn his glass several times to a point on the starboard bow. He

then handed it to his first officer.

"What do you make out of that, Mr Naylor?" he asked.

The answer was not heard.

"So I think it is," replied the captain. "Keep her two more points to

the eastward of her course--steady so."

Immediately the head of the ship was turned towards a little spot which

appeared upon the water, a long way off. The report that there was

something to be seen called every one to the side of the ship, and all

eyes were fixed on that small speck on the waste of waters. There were

many speculations as to what it was. Some said that it was a dead

whale, others a smaller fish; a few insisted that it was the hull of a

vessel, and there was one party of opinion that it was the top of a rock

in the ocean, and were congratulating themselves that they had met with

it in daylight and fine weather.

"But what do you think it is, Captain Willis?" asked Ellen Barrow.

"Why, young lady, I think it is a boat; but I am not surprised that so

many people, not accustomed to look at objects on the water, where there

is nothing to compare them with, should be mistaken. Those who fancy

that it is a whale or the hull of a vessel think it is much farther off

than it really is, while those who suppose it to be a small fish,

believe it to be much nearer than it really is. It is only by comparing

things together that we can estimate them properly."

The breeze, although sufficient to fill the sails, was still very light,

so that the ship moved but slowly through the water,--at the rate,

perhaps, of a mile and a half or two miles in the hour, or, as sailors

would say, two knots an hour. She was, therefore, a long time

approaching the object. At last, Captain Willis, who had constantly

kept his telescope turned towards it, pronounced it, without doubt, to

be a boat.

"There appears to be no one in her, however," he observed; "at least, I

see no one's head above the gunwale."

"How strange that a boat should be out there all alone!" exclaimed Ellen

Barrow.

"Oh no; she has got adrift from a vessel, or has been driven off from

some coast or other," answered Captain Willis.

"There looks to me, sir, as if there were some people in the boat,

though they don't appear to be moving," sung out the third officer from

aloft.

"Mr Simpson, man the starboard quarter-boat, and lower her as we come

up with the boat. We must have her alongside, and overhaul her, at all

events."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the mate; and soon afterwards the boat's crew

were seen coming aft to lower her into the water.

Numerous were the conjectures as to who could be in the boat, and where

she could have come from; but of course no one could answer the

question. The ship glided on slowly, for the wind was still very light.

When she got a short distance only from the boat, the captain ordered

the sails to be clewed up, and the gig to be lowered. Mr Simpson went

away in her, and was soon alongside. He was seen to throw up his hands,

as an expression of horror, as he looked into the boat. She was then

made fast to the stern of the gig, and rapidly towed up to the ship.

"Be quick there on deck, and bring a chair," he exclaimed. "Here's a

poor creature much in want of the doctor's help, if she's not gone too

far for it already."

The side of the ship on which the boat appeared was crowded with the

passengers, eager to see what it contained. The sight which met their

eyes was indeed a sad one. In the fore part were two men lying on their

backs with their faces upwards, and, from their ghastly expression, it

was seen that they were both dead. There was another person, a

dark-skinned woman, who, it appeared, the mate considered still living.

A chair was speedily slung, and the mate having secured her into it, she

was hoisted on deck.

The doctor was in waiting, and having placed her on a mattress on deck,

he knelt down at her side to discover if any spark of life yet remained

in her emaciated frame. He felt her pulse, and then calling for a glass

of wine and water, he moistened her lips, and poured a few drops down

her throat. It had the effect of instantly reviving her; she opened her

eyes, and uttering a few strange words, she attempted to rise as if to

search for something she expected to find near. For an instant she

looked wildly around; but the effort was more than nature could bear,

and, with a deep sigh, she sank again and expired. While some of the

passengers had been witnessing this melancholy scene, others were

engaged in watching the proceedings of the mate. Directly he had placed

the poor black woman in the chair, he turned to examine the after part

of the boat, over which an awning was carefully spread. Lifting it up,

he uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. Carefully placed on

a bed formed on the stern-sheets, were two children--a little boy, some

three or four years old, or perhaps five, and an infant which could

scarcely for as many months have seen the light. The little fellow had

been fast asleep. The voice of the mate awoke him, and looking up and

seeing strange faces surrounding him, he began to cry.

"That's a good sign, at all events," cried the mate. "The baby does not

seem much the worse either; send down the chair again, and we'll have

them on deck in a trice." The chair was lowered, and placing himself in

it, with the two children in his arms, he was hoisted up on deck.

Scarcely had he reached it, than all the ladies hurried forward to catch

a glimpse of the children, many of them almost quarrelling who should

take charge of them.

"Stay, ladies," said Captain Willis, good-naturedly. "The children by

right belong to me; and I must let the doctor see to them before anybody

else begins nursing them."

In the meantime, however, Mrs Clayton had taken the infant out of the

mate's arms, while the little boy was snatched away by Ellen Barrow and

the rest of the young ladies, who kept fondling him among them, and

showing that they would do their best to spoil him before the voyage was

over.

Mr Hawkins, the surgeon, finding that his services were of no avail to

the rest of those who had been in the boat, now appeared, and examined

the baby as it lay in Mrs Clayton's arms.

"It seems to have been wonderfully sustained," he observed. "I can

discover nothing the matter with it; and with some of the food our goat

can supply, I have no doubt in a few days it will have perfectly

recovered. Let me relieve you of the child, madam, and give it to one

of the women-servants to nurse."

But Mrs Clayton showed no inclination to give up her charge. There

were feelings rising in her bosom whose exquisite delight a fond mother,

as she presses her first-born to her breast, can well appreciate. The

lady gave an imploring look at her husband, which he well understood.

"Do as you wish, dearest," he whispered.

She returned him a glance full of grateful thanks.

"Captain Willis," she said, in a voice agitated with the fear that her

request might be denied, "I will, if you will allow me, take charge of

the poor deserted one, till its proper guardians can be found; and I

daresay we shall be able to learn from the little boy who they are."

"To no one would I more gladly commit the infant than to you, madam,"

returned the captain. "And pray, consider her your property till

claimed by others with greater right to her."

So it was settled; and Mrs Clayton did indeed prove an affectionate

mother to the little foundling. Captain Willis, however, was much

disappointed in not being able to obtain the information he expected

from the elder child. The little fellow could speak very rapidly, but

it was in a language neither he nor any of the young ladies could

understand, though he seemed to comprehend what was said to him in

English. They tried him with a variety of names to endeavour to

discover the one belonging to him; but to none of them did he pay any

attention.

On a sudden he began to cry to go to his Aya; but as he was kept out of

sight of the dead body, and petted by the young ladies, who tried every

means to please him, he was soon again pacified. He was then taken into

the cabin, where two or three of the married ladies, who had children of

their own, set to work to wash him and dress him in clean clothes. He

kicked about in the tub of water, and seemed highly delighted, as if it

was a luxury to which he was accustomed, while he also appeared fully to

appreciate the advantage of clean clothes. He was rather thin, as if he

had lived for a length of time on a short allowance of food; but when

some broth, which had been got ready for him, was placed before him, he

did not eat ravenously as if he had been long without food altogether.

Indeed, I may as well here remark, that the mate had discovered a small

piece of biscuit, softened by water, by his side when he took the

children out of the boat, proving that the faithful nurse had given him

the last morsel of food in her possession rather than eat it herself, in

the hope of preserving his life. When he had swallowed the broth, he

fell fast asleep in the arms of the lady who was holding him. The

little fellow's perfect confidence in those surrounding him, while it

won their hearts, showed that he had always been accustomed to kind

treatment.

Mrs Clayton had also brought her little charge below, and was nursing

it with the most tender care. It seemed, indeed, but a fragile little

blossom; and it appeared surprising that it should thus have escaped

from the hardships to which it had been exposed.

Meanwhile, on deck, Captain Willis and his officers, and some of the

gentlemen passengers, were making every possible examination of the boat

and the dead bodies, to endeavour to discover some clue, by which they

might be able to trace to what ship they had belonged, or whence they

had come. There was, unfortunately, little on their bodies to identify

them. One of the men had fastened round his neck by a lanyard a knife,

on the handle of which was roughly carved the initials J.S., and on his

arm was discovered, marked by gunpowder, among a variety of other

figures, the name of James Smith,--one, however, borne by so many

people, that it could scarcely be said to serve as a distinguishing

appellation. Sir Charles Plowden, notwithstanding, who was taking a

great interest in and superintending the investigation, made a note of

it in his pocket-book, and took charge of the knife.

There was no name on the boat, nor were there any oars in her, which

have generally the name of the ship marked on them. The boat was

pronounced not to be of English build; and the carpenter, after a long

examination, declared it to be his opinion, that it might possibly be

built by some Englishman, in a foreign place, and with foreign

assistants, and with more than one sort of wood, with which he was not

well acquainted. The canvas, which had served as the awning over the

children, was certainly English, and the seams at the joins were exactly

similar to the work of an English sail-maker. The nails used in the

boat were English; but then, as the carpenter observed, English nails

were sent into all parts of the world.

The complexion of the other seaman was very dark; a crucifix was found

round his neck, and he had on a light-blue jacket, and his other

garments were not of English make, so that there could be no doubt that

he was a foreigner. In his pocket was a purse, containing several gold

doubloons and other coins, showing how utterly valueless on some

occasions, is the money for which men risk so much. How gladly would

the poor wretch have given the whole of it for a crust of bread and a

drop of water! There was also a little silver box in his pocket,

containing the relic of a saint, equally inefficacious to preserve him,

although an inscription on a piece of paper in it stated, that it would

preserve the fortunate possessor from all dangers, either by sea or

land.

In the Englishman's pocket there was an empty tobacco-box; but there was

no paper or writing of any sort, to assist in identifying them.

The clothes of the nurse were not marked, nor was there found about her

anything to aid the investigation; but on those of the children were

found, nearly washed out, however, letters which were evidently the

initials of their names. On those of the little boy were M.S., and on

those of the baby E.S., which, with the strong resemblance in features,

left little doubt that they were brother and sister.

Sir Charles, with an exactness which should be imitated under similar

circumstances, noted down every particular--the appearance of the dead

bodies, their height and size. He directed, also, that the clothes

should be washed and carefully kept. The measurement of the boat was

also made, and parts of her plankings and all the things she contained

were taken out of her. She was herself too large to hoist in on deck.

The only thing remarkable about the children was, that round the neck of

each was a gold chain and a locket containing light auburn hair; but

there was no other inscription than the initials E.S.

Sir Charles desired that he might also take charge of these memorials.

"If the children continue to wear them, they may be lost," he observed.

"They may be valuable, as aiding to discover their friends, and should

be carefully preserved." Indeed he neglected no means by which the

important object could be obtained, of discovering, at a future period,

the family of the little foundlings.

While these matters were being arranged, the wind had dropped again

completely, and the sky had assumed a dull leaden hue, and a thick haze

to the eastward rose up and looked like a line of high land. The boat

was meantime left hanging astern, while the gig was again hoisted up on

the quarter.

Sailors have a strong aversion to having dead bodies on board; and as

there was no object to be attained by keeping those of the unfortunate

persons who had been discovered in the boat, preparations were made to

bury them that evening in the deep ocean. I will not now stop to

describe the ceremony. They were sewn up in a clean canvas, with a shot

fastened in at the feet, and a clergyman who was among the passengers,

performed the funeral service. They were then launched overboard, and

sunk for ever from the sight of men.

Scarcely had they reached the water than a low moaning sound was heard

in the rigging, and the sails flapped heavily against the mast. Captain

Willis cast a hurried glance to windward.

"Clew up--haul up--let fly everything--away aloft there--furl topgallant

sails, close reef the topsails--be smart, my lads," he exclaimed in

those sharp tones which showed that there was no time for delay. The

attentive men flew to their proper posts--some to the tacks and sheets,

the bunt-lines and clew-lines, others swarmed aloft like bees on the

yards, and with vigorous arms hauled out the earings and secured the

sails with the gaskets. They did their work manfully, for they well

knew there was no time to lose.

Scarcely, indeed, was all along made snug, and they were coming down

again, than the threatening blast struck the ship.

"Hold on for your lives, hold on!" exclaimed the captain. "Port the

helm, port!"

Away she flew before the gale, upright and unharmed. In an instant, it

seemed, the sea, before so calm and bright, became covered with a mass

of foam, and then waves rose rapidly, one towering above the other, in

quick succession. Two men were stationed at the helm, to keep the ship

before the wind, as she ran on under close-reefed fore-topsail.

So engaged had Captain Willis and his officers been in getting the ship

into proper order to encounter the gale, that they entirely forgot the

boat towing astern. Fortunately no sea had yet risen high enough to

drive her against the ship, or serious damage might have been effected.

At last Sir Charles observed her, and called the attention of the first

officer to her. In an instant his knife was out, and without waiting to

consult the captain, he was cutting away at the tow rope. He was not a

moment too soon, for some heavy black seas were seen rolling up like

mountains astern. The last strands of the rope parted with a sharp

snap, the boat was seen to rise to the top of a wave, and the next

rolled her over and over, and she disappeared beneath the waters.

"Alas!" exclaimed Sir Charles, "sad would have been the fate of the poor

children, had we not providentially come up in time to save them."

Reader, I was one of those poor children, thus providentially rescued

from destruction; the other was my sister. Truly I have a right to say,

God equally rules the calm or the tempest--equally in the one and the

other does He watch over his creatures.

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