ordering them to return to their canoes. They appeared as if they were
going to obey him, when suddenly, each man drawing a weapon from beneath
his cloak uttered a fearful yell, and leaped at the officers and us.
The captain, with only a jack-knife in his hand, defended himself
bravely, killing four of his savage assailants.
Led by old Tom, I, with three or four other men, fought our way aft to
join the officers, intending, should we be overpowered, to leap, as we
had proposed, into the boat. I saw poor Mr Duncan struck down and hove
into a canoe alongside. The captain was apparently trying to reach the
cabin, probably to get his fire-arms, when he fell, struck by a hatchet
on the head.
"Follow me," cried Tom. "We may reach the boat through the cabin
windows." As he said this, he sprang down the companion-hatch, I and
two others following him. The remainder of our number were overtaken by
the savages before they could reach it. The last, Andrew Pearson, our
boatswain, contrived to secure the hatch. This gave us time to get hold
of the fire-arms fastened against the bulkheads, and to load and place
them ready for use on the table. There were at least a dozen muskets,
and as many brace of pistols. Had these been in our hands on deck, we
should probably have driven the savages overboard, or they would have
been deterred from making the attack. With them, we might now defend
our lives against vastly superior numbers.
The scuffle on deck was still going on, the yells of the savages rising
above the stifled groans and cries of our unfortunate shipmates. They
soon ceased, and then arose a shout of triumph from our enemies, and we
knew that we were the only survivors. But we too were in a desperate
plight. Tom was severely wounded, and the boatswain and the other man
had received several gashes. I, indeed, thanks to the way in which Tom
had defended me, was the only person unhurt.
"Green, do you look after the hatchway," said Pearson to the other man
who had escaped. "Tom, do you and Jack show your muskets through the
stern windows, I have some work to do. The savages think they have us
in a trap, but they are mistaken." He opened, as he spoke, a hatch
which led to the magazine, and I saw him uncoiling a long line of match,
one end of which he placed in the magazine, while he led the other along
the cabin to the stern-port. Meantime, the savages had all clambered on
board, and were shrieking and shouting in the most fearful manner,
crowding down into the hold, as we could judge by the sounds which
reached us, and handing up the rich treasures they found there.
"No time to be lost," said Pearson, hauling up the boat. He went to the
locker, and collected all the provisions he could find. "Jump in, Tom
and Jack," he said. "Now for the fire-arms." He handed them in, and
told us to place them along the thwarts, ready for use. "Now, Green,"
he said in a low voice, "jump in." We three were now in the boat, which
was hidden under the counter from those on deck. He struck a light, and
placed it to the slow match, and, having ascertained that it was
burning, slipped after us into the boat, in which the mast was
fortunately stepped.
"Jack, do you take the helm, and steer directly for the mouth of the
harbour," he said, cutting the painter and seizing an oar. Tom and
Green did the same, and pulled away lustily. We had already got several
fathoms from the vessel before we were perceived. The sail had been
placed ready for hoisting. It was run up and sheeted home. The savages
were about to jump into one of the canoes, and chase us, but three
muskets pointed towards them made them hesitate. We were rapidly
slipping away from the doomed brig. We could see the savages dancing
and leaping on deck, their shouts and yells coming over the water
towards us.
"They will dance to another tune soon," muttered Pearson between his
teeth.
He and the other two had again taken to the oars. Even now a flight of
arrows might have reached us, but fortunately the savages had not
brought their bows with them, and probably that was the chief reason why
they had not ventured to pursue us. They well knew that several of
their number would have been shot down with our bullets had they made
the attempt. Still we could see some of the chiefs apparently trying to
persuade their warriors to follow us, and we knew that though we might
fight till all our ammunition was expended, we should at last be
overwhelmed by numbers.
Our chance of ultimate escape seemed small indeed. "They will not
come," said Pearson. "See!" We had got half-a-mile or more from the
brig, when a deep thundering sound reached our ears. It seemed as if
the whole vessel was lifted out of the water, while up into the air shot
her mainmast and spars, and fragments of her deck and bulwarks, and
other pieces of timber, mingled with countless human bodies, with limbs
torn off and mangled in a fearful manner. At the same time the canoes
with those who had escaped were paddling with frantic energy towards the
shore, probably believing that the Great Spirit had sent forth one of
his emissaries to punish them for their treachery to the white people.
We concluded that some such idea as this was entertained by them, as we
saw no canoes coming off in pursuit of us.
Rowing and sailing, we continued to make our way out to the open ocean.
It was blowing fresh but, the wind coming off-shore, the sea was
tolerably calm, and we agreed that at all events it was better to
undergo the dangers of a long voyage in an open boat than trust
ourselves in the power of the revengeful savages. We had reached the
mouth of the harbour, and could still see the village far off on its
shore, when, to our dismay, we found the sea breeze setting in. We had
accordingly to haul our wind, though we still hoped to weather the
headland which formed its southern point, and get an offing.
Tom all this time had uttered no complaint, though I saw the blood
flowing down his side. The boatswain and Green had, with my help, bound
up their wounds. I wanted Tom to let me assist him. "No," he said;
"it's of no use. If you were to swathe me up, I could not pull. It
will be time enough for that when we get round the headland." He was
evidently getting weaker, and at last the boatswain persuaded him to lay
in his oar, and try to stop the blood. The wounds were in his back and
neck, inflicted by the savages as he fought his way onward to the cabin.
I bound our handkerchiefs round him as well as I could; but it was
evident that he was not fit for rowing, and that the only chance of the
blood stopping was for him to remain perfectly quiet.
During the last tack we made I fancied, as I looked up the harbour, that
I saw the canoes coming out. I told the boatswain. "We will give them
a warm reception, if they come near us," he answered.
I felt greatly relieved when we at last weathered the point, and were
now able to stand along shore, though we couldn't get the offing which
was desirable.
Night was coming on. The weather looked threatening, and our prospects
of ultimately escaping were small.
At last we got so near the surf that the boatswain determined to put the
boat about and stand out to sea. Although the other tack might bring us
almost in front of the harbour's mouth, it was the safest course to
avoid being cast on shore.
The night came on very dark, but the wind was moderate, and there was
not much sea. Still the weather was excessively cold, and my companions
suffered greatly from their wounds. Tom had been placed in the
stern-sheets near me. Though he said less, he suffered more than the
rest, and I could every now and then hear low groans escaping from his
bosom. At last I heard him calling me. "Jack," he whispered, "what I
told you is coming true. I am going; I feel death creeping over me.
Remember the case. Do all you know I ought to have done. I have been a
great sinner; but you once said there is a way by which all sins can be
blotted out. I believe in that way. Jack, give me your hand. It's
darker than ever; and I am cold, very cold." He pressed my hand, and I
heard him murmuring to himself. It might have been a prayer, but his
words were indistinct; I could not understand what he said. I kept
steering with one hand, looking up at the sails, and casting a glance
now and then at him, while the other two men pulled away to keep the
boat to windward. Presently I felt his fingers relax; an icy chill came
from his hand. I knew too well that my friend was dead. It was some
time before I could bring myself to tell the boatswain what had
happened. "Poor fellow! But it may be the lot of all of us before
another day is over," he said; "yet, as men, we will struggle to the
last."
The night passed on, and we still persevered in endeavouring to obtain
an offing, though so indistinct was the land that we could not tell
whereabouts we were. What was our dismay, when morning broke, to find
that we were directly off the mouth of the harbour, and at such a
distance that the keen eyes of the savages on the hills around might
easily perceive our sail. We at once put the boat about, hoping to get
again to the south'ard before we were discovered. "It's too late,"
cried Green; "I see the canoes coming."
"We must fight them, then," said the daring boatswain, calmly. "We
don't just expect mercy at their hands after the treat we gave them,"
and he laughed at the fearful act he had committed. Still I thought
what could we three, in a small boat, with our dozen muskets, do against
a whole fleet of fierce savages.
We could now see the canoes coming out of the harbour. The sea was
smooth, and they would without fail venture after us. Our only chance
of escape seemed in a sudden gale springing up, but of that there was
little probability. I was turning my eyes anxiously towards the offing
in hopes of seeing signs of a stronger breeze coming, when I caught
sight of a sail. I pointed her out to the boatswain. "She is a large
vessel," he exclaimed, "and standing this way."
"Perhaps the savages will be more than ever anxious to catch us, for
fear we should persuade the people on board yonder ship to punish them
for what they have done," I observed. "They will catch us if they can,"
answered Pearson; "but they will have to pay a good price yet if they
make the attempt," and he cast his eyes at the muskets which lay ready
loaded. The canoes were drawing nearer and nearer, and we could now
distinguish the figures of the plumed warriors as they stood up in the
bows. The boat at the same time was slipping pretty quickly through the
water. "The breeze is freshening," I observed; "we may escape them
yet."
"I don't much care if we do or do not," said Pearson; "I should like to
knock over a few of these boasting fellows; we may hit them long before
they can get near enough to hurt us." I for my part did not wish to see
more of the savages killed, for they had only followed the instinct of
their untutored natures, and we had already inflicted a terrible
punishment on them in return. In a few minutes the breeze came down
even stronger than before, and greatly to my satisfaction, the canoes
appeared to be scarcely gaining on us, even if they did so at all. I
continued to give a glance every now and then at the ship, for I was
afraid after all she might alter her course, and stand away from us.
At length, to my joy, I saw the savages in the canoes cease paddling.
They apparently were afraid of venturing farther out into the ocean, or
saw that it would be hopeless to attempt overtaking us. For some
minutes they waited, as if holding a consultation, and then round they
paddled and made their way back into the harbour.
"Just like them," exclaimed Pearson. "Those cowardly red-skins will
never fight unless they can take their enemies at an advantage."
We had to make several tacks towards the ship, and then when we got near
enough for the sound of our muskets to reach her, we fired several as a
signal. They were at length, we concluded, heard on board. She kept
away towards us. She drew nearer. We saw that she was a whaler, with
the English colours flying at the peak. She rounded to, and we went
alongside. "What has happened?" exclaimed several voices, as old Tom's
body was seen lying in the stern-sheets. A few words told our tale. I
was able to climb up the side, but Pearson and Green were so stiff from
their wounds that they had to be helped up. They were far more hurt
indeed than they had supposed, especially Pearson; but his dauntless
spirit had hitherto kept him up. Our boat was hoisted on board, and old
Tom's body was taken out and laid on deck. We were treated with great
kindness, and the captain, greatly to my satisfaction, volunteered to
give old Tom Christian burial. He had, as we supposed, intended to go
into the harbour to obtain wood and water, and to trade with the
natives; but when he heard of what had occurred he resolved to steer for
a port farther south, and he told me that he was very grateful to us for
giving him warning of the danger which he otherwise would have run.
In the evening I saw my poor friend lashed up in a hammock, and
committed to his ocean grave.
All night long I was dreaming of him and of the dreadful scenes I had
witnessed.
The ship was the _Juno_. Her commander, Captain Knox, was a very
different sort of person to my late captain; and from his kind manner,
and the way he spoke to the officers and men, he seemed truly to act the
part of a father to his crew. The ship had been out a year and a half,
and it was expected she would remain another year in the Pacific.
Though I was anxious to get home, yet when the captain asked me to enter
on board, I was very glad to do so. Pearson continued to suffer
fearfully from his wounds. Whether the deed he had done preyed on his
mind, I cannot say; but a high fever coming on, he used to rave about
the savages, and the way he had blown them up. At the moment he
committed the deed I daresay he had persuaded himself that he was only
performing a justifiable act of vengeance. The day before we entered
the harbour to which we were bound he died, and poor Green did not long
survive him, so that I alone was left of all the crew of the ill-fated
_Fox_.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
A STRANGE DISCOVERY.
The captain of the _Juno_ took every precaution to prevent her being
surprised by the Indians. Boarding nettings were triced up round the
ship every night, and the watch on deck had arms ready at hand. None of
the natives were allowed to come on board, and only two or three canoes
were permitted alongside at a time. We judged by their manner, though
they were willing enough to trade, that they had already heard of what
had occurred to the northward.
Having got our wood and water on board, we again put to sea, cruising in
various parts of the ocean known to be frequented by whales. A bright
look-out was kept for their spouts as the monsters rose to the surface
to breathe. The instant a spout was seen all was life and animation on
board; the boats were lowered, generally two or three at a time, and
away they pulled to be ready to attack the whale as it again rose to the
surface. I remember, the first time I saw one of the monsters struck, I
shouted and jumped about the deck as eagerly as if I myself were engaged
in the work. Now I saw the lines flying out of the boat at a rapid
rate, as the animal sounded; now the men in the boats hauled it in
again, as the whale rose once more to the surface; now they pulled on,
and two more deadly harpoons were plunged into its sides, with several
spears; now they backed to avoid the lashing strokes of its powerful
tail; now the creature was seen to be in its death-flurry, tumbling
about and turning over and over in its agony. At length it lay an inert
mass on the surface, and the boats came back, towing it in triumph.
Next there was the work of "cutting in," or taking off the blubber which
surrounded it; the huge body being turned round and round during the
operation, as the men stood on it cutting off with their sharp spades
huge strips, which were hoisted with tackles on deck. Last of all came
the "trying out," when the blubber, cut into pieces, was thrown into
huge caldrons on deck, with a fire beneath them; the crisp pieces, from
which the oil had been extracted, serving as fuel. It was a curious
scene when night came on, and fires blazed up along the deck, surrounded
by the crew, begrimed with oil and smoke, looking like beings of another
world engaged in some fearful incantation.
This scene was repeated over and over again. We visited several islands
in the Pacific. At some, where Christian missionaries had been at work,
the inhabitants showed by their conduct that they were worthy of
confidence; but at others the captain deemed it necessary to be
constantly on his guard, lest they might attempt to cut off the crew and
take possession of the ship, as we heard had frequently occurred.
At length, to my delight and that of all the crew, the last cask we had
on board was filled with oil, and with a deeply-laden ship we commenced
our homeward voyage. We encountered a heavy gale going round the Horn,
but the old _Juno_ weathered it bravely, though, as she strained a good
deal, we had afterwards to keep the pumps going for an hour or so during
each watch. We, however, made our way at a fair rate northward, and
once more crossed the line.
It may seem surprising that I had not hitherto examined the metal case
which old Tom had committed to my charge. The box itself I had resolved
not to open. I did not suppose that I should be induced to act as he
had done, but yet I thought it wiser not to run the risk of temptation.
We for several days lay becalmed, and one evening, while the crew were
lying about the decks overcome with the heat, I stowed myself away
for'ard, at a distance from the rest, and drew the paper out of the
case. Great was my surprise to find that it was addressed to my own
father. It contained a reference to the parchment in the box, and gave
a list both of the jewels, the notes, and gold. The writer spoke of his
wife and infant son, and charged my father, should any accident happen
to him, to act as their guardian and friend as well as their legal
adviser. The letter was signed "Clement Leslie."
"This is strange," I thought. "Then there can be no doubt that little
Clem is the very child old Tom saw placed in his nurse's arms on the
raft, and his poor mother must have been washed away when the ship went
down. Those Indian nurses, I have often heard, will sacrifice their own
lives for the sake of preserving the children committed to their charge,
and Clem's nurse must have held him fast in her arms, in spite of the
buffeting of the waves and the tossing of the raft during that dreadful
night when the Indiaman went down; and if she had any food, I dare say
she gave it to him rather than eat it herself. But, poor fellow, what
may have happened to him since we parted."
I now felt more anxious than ever to reach home, and longed for the
breeze to spring up which might carry us forward through the calm
latitudes. It came at last, and the _Juno_ again made rapid progress
homeward. We were bound up the Irish Channel to Liverpool; when,
however, we got within about a week's sail of the chops of the Channel,
it came on to blow very hard. The leaks increased, and we were now
compelled to keep the pumps going during nearly the whole of each watch.
The weather was very thick, too, and no observations could be taken.
The crew were almost worn out; yet there was no time for rest. The gale
was blowing from the south-west, and the sea running very high, when in
the middle watch the look-out shouted the startling cry of "Land! on the
starboard bow." The yards were at once braced sharply up, and soon
afterwards the captain ordered the ship to be put about. We were
carrying almost more canvas than she could bear, but yet it would not
then do to shorten sail. Just as the ship was in stays, a tremendous
squall struck her, and in an instant the three masts went by the board.
There we lay on a lee shore, without a possibility of getting off it.
The order was at once given to range the cables, that immediately the
water was sufficiently shallow to allow of it we might anchor.
I will not describe that dreadful night. Onward the ship drove towards
the unknown shore. We had too much reason to dread that it was the
western coast of Ireland, fringed by reefs and rugged rocks. As we
drove on it grew more and more fearfully distinct. We fired guns of
distress, in the faint hope that assistance might be sent to us; but no
answering signal came. Too soon the roar of the surf reached our ears,
and it became fearfully probable that the ship and her rich cargo, with
all on board, would become the prey of the waves. I secured the
precious box and case as usual, determined, if I could save my own life,
to preserve them. The lead was continually hove, and at last the
captain ordered the anchors to be let go. They held the ship but for a
few minutes; then a tremendous sea struck her, and sweeping over her
deck, they parted, and again onward she drove. A few minutes more only
elapsed before she struck the rocks, and the crashing and rending sounds
of her timbers warned us that before long she would be dashed into a
thousand fragments. The sea was breaking furiously over the wreck, and
now one, now another of the crew was washed away. I was clinging with
others to a part of the bulwarks, when I felt them loosening beneath us.
Another sea came, and we were borne forward towards the shore. For an
instant I was beneath the boiling surf; when I rose again my companions
were gone, and in a few seconds I found myself dashed against a rock. I
clung to it for my life, then scrambled on, my only thought being to get
away from the raging waters. I succeeded at length in scrambling out of
their reach, and lay down on a dry ledge to rest. I must have dropped
to sleep or fainted from fatigue. When I came to myself, the sun was
up, and I heard voices below me. The tide had fallen, and numbers of
country people were scrambling along the rocks, and picking up whatever
was thrown on shore. I managed to get on my feet and wave to them.
Several came up to me, and the tones of their voices showed me at once
that they were Irish.
Out of the whole crew, I was the only person who had been saved, and I
was very doubtful how I might be treated. However, I wronged them. It
was a matter of dispute among several who should take charge of me; and
at length a young woman, whose cottage was not far off, carried me up to
it. She and her husband gave me the best of everything they had; that
is to say, as many potatoes and as much buttermilk and bacon as I could
swallow. I was so eager to get home that, after a night's rest, I told
them I wished to start on my journey. I was, I knew, on the west of
Ireland, and I hoped that, if I could manage to get to Cork, I might
from thence find means of crossing to England. Though my host had no
money to give me, he agreed to drive me twenty miles on the way,
promising to find a friend who would pass me on; and his wife pressed on
me a change of linen, and a few other articles in a bundle. With these
I started on my long journey.
I was not disappointed, for when I told my story I was fully believed,
and I often got help where I least expected it.
At length I reached Cork, where I found a vessel just sailing for
Liverpool. The captain agreed to give me a free passage, and at last I
safely landed on the shores of old England. I must confess that I had
more difficulty after this in making my way homeward, and by the time I
reached the neighbourhood of my father's house my outer clothing, at all
events, was pretty well worn to rags and tatters.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
I REACH HOME AND THINK I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THE SEA.
It was the early summer when one evening I came in sight of my home.
The windows and doors were open. Without hesitation I walked up the
steps, forgetting the effect which my sudden appearance might produce on
my family. One of my youngest sisters was in the passage. I beckoned
to her. "What do you want?" she asked; "you must not stop here; go
away."
"What! don't you know me?" I asked. "No," she answered; "who are you?"
"Jack--your brother Jack," I answered. On this she ran off into the
drawing-room, and I heard her exclaim, "There's a great big beggar boy,
and he says he is Jack--our brother Jack."
"Oh no, that cannot be!" I heard one of my other sisters reply. "Poor
Jack was drowned long ago in the _Naiad_."
"No, he was not," I couldn't help exclaiming; and without more ado I ran
forward.
My appearance created no small commotion among three or four young
ladies who were seated in the room. "Go away; how dare you venture in
here?" exclaimed one or two of them.
"Will you not believe me?" I cried. "I am Jack, I assure you, and I
hope soon to convince you of the fact."