When consciousness returned I found myself lying in a bunk in a ship’s
cabin. The place was familiar to me, and I recollect in a weak way
trying to find out why it should be so. “Why, confound it all,” I
muttered, “this is my cabin aboard the _Ruby_. God! what a dream it has
been!”
“Very glad your senses have returned to you, Mr. Catesby. It’s been a
doocid long faint, sir,” exclaimed a familiar voice, and no less a
person than the second mate of the _Ruby_ came to my bedside.
A moment after the door opened, and the doctor of the ship entered. I
was about to speak; he peremptorily motioned silence, felt my pulse and
brow, nodding approvingly; then addressing the mate, thanked him for
keeping watch and told him he could go. As my dawning intellects
brightened, my eagerness to make sure of the reality of the adventure I
had come through grew into a little fever. When I looked round the cabin
and saw my clothes hanging upon the bulkhead, my books, the twenty odds
and ends of the homely furniture of my berth, I could not but believe
that I had fallen ill, been seized perhaps with a fever, and that the
incidents of the wreck, the open boat, the murderous Portuguese, were a
mere vision of my distempered brain. But for some hours the doctor had
his way, would not suffer me to talk, with his own hand brought me broth
and wine, and now, finding me strong enough I supposed to support a
conversation, went out, and in a few minutes returned with Captain Bow.
It was _then_ my suspicion that all that had happened to me was most
horribly and fearfully real was confirmed. The boat that had left me
aboard the wreck had been sighted sweeping down in the mist; twenty
ropes’ ends had been hove at her from the _Ruby_, and in few minutes her
people were safe on the Indiaman’s deck. Sail was shortened to
close-reefed topsails, but a black blowing night drew around, as you
know, and when the dawn broke the wreck was nowhere visible. Light,
baffling weather followed. Meanwhile Bow swore that he would not quit
these waters till he had exhausted the inside of a week in search for
me. At sunrise that morning the wreck was signalled from the
fore-top-gallant yard of the _Ruby_. The ship was immediately headed for
it, and in a couple of hours was close aboard. The chief officer was
sent in charge of a boat, and I was found lying, dead as they thought, a
fathom’s distance from a large stain of blood, whilst aft was the body
of a half-caste with his head cut open. They left _him_ as he lay, but
me they handed into the boat to carry on board, with the design of
giving me a Christian burial, till the doctor, looking at me, asked if
they wanted to add to the horrors of the wreck by drowning a living man,
and ordered me to be conveyed at once to my bed.
This was the captain’s story, and I then told mine. Both he and the
doctor exchanged looks as I talked. It was tolerably evident to my mind
that they only believed in about a quarter of what I told them.
“But, Captain,” I cried, “on my solemn honor as a gentleman, as I am
alive here to say it, there was gold to the value of many thousands of
pounds in the chest.”
“Yes, yes,” he answered with a glance of compassion at me. “I don’t
doubt it, Mr. Catesby. So much the better for the mermen when it goes
down to them; it will render the mermaids more placable, I don’t doubt.”
“But, gracious mercy!” I cried, “it is only the sending of a boat, you
know. Why, sir, there’s enough in that chest to yield a little fortune
to every mother’s son of us aboard.”
“Yes, yes,” said Captain Bow, with a faint smile of concern at the
doctor, who kept his eyes with a knowing look in them fastened upon the
deck. “But we took you off the wreck, my dear sir, a little before nine
o’clock, and it is now after four, and as our speed has been a
comfortable eight knots ever since, you may reckon the hulk at sixty
miles’ distance astern. No, Mr. Catesby, we’re bound to Bombay this time
in earnest, sir. No more hunting after wrecks this voyage.”
But I got every man-jack of the passengers, with the whole ship’s
company to boot, to credit my story up to the hilt before we had
measured half the length of the Bay of Bengal, and such was the
conviction I had inspired forwards at all events that the third mate one
night told me it was reported that a number of the forecastle hands had
made up their minds to charter, if possible, if not, then to run away
with, a country wallah on the _Ruby’s_ arrival at Bombay, and sail the
Indian Ocean till they fell in with the wreck--if she was still afloat.