A WONDERFUL MEETING.
As Breeze came towards him, the white-faced man in the companion-way,
who was so weak and emaciated that he seemed to have just arisen from a
sick-bed, tried feebly to wave him back. The effort was made in vain;
for the next moment the boy had sprung to where he was standing, thrown
his arms about his neck, and, half laughing, half crying in his
excitement, was exclaiming,
“Father! oh, father! We knew you weren’t dead. We knew you’d come back
to us--mother and I did!”
“Gently, lad, gently. I’m not quite steady on my pins yet, and if you
don’t have a care you’ll pitch me down the steps,” answered Captain
McCloud, trying to speak calmly and to quiet the excited boy. But tears
stood in his eyes, and directly his weakness had mastered him. He cried
out, brokenly,
“God bless you, Breeze! God bless you, my boy! I’d thought never to see
you again, and in my heart I’d bidden you good-by, mother and you. But I
wasn’t reconciled to it. I couldn’t die without seeing you. You’d not
ask it, lad. You’ll not leave me again to the fever, will you?”
Then, overcome by his emotion, the man who had been so strong, but who
was now so weak and wellnigh helpless, bowed his head and sobbed like a
child.
This pitiful sight, and the piteous appeal just made to him, almost
unnerved Breeze, but he controlled himself by a strong effort, and led
his father to a seat, at the same time speaking soothing and loving
words to him.
“No, father,” he said, “of course I’ll not leave you. I’ve come to stay
with you, and take care of you, and carry you into port, where mother is
waiting for us. Only you must hurry and get well, for it would never do
to go back to her sick and looking like this, you know. It would
frighten her to see you so.”
Just then, walking stiffly on account of his wounded leg, Wolfe came aft
in search of Breeze, and was filled with amazement at what he saw. For
once his ready tongue failed him, and he stood staring at the little
group in silence. He wondered what could have affected them so deeply,
and if they had ever met before, or whether he were not witnessing the
effects of a mild species of insanity, as exhibited by the stranger.
“At any rate,” he said to himself, “I’ll not interfere with them, for
Breeze seems to have a quieting way with the old gentleman, and maybe
hearing another strange voice might send him off again.”
All at once his attention was attracted by the sudden appearance of the
most uncouth and altogether peculiar human face he had ever seen. The
head to which it belonged had just been lifted cautiously above the
cabin companion-way, and the great eyes, which seemed to Wolfe to be
wholly white, were rolling wildly at the sight of the strangers. The
face was the color of black ashes, the flat nose expanded into a pair of
enormous nostrils, while the lips were of unusual thickness, even for a
full-blooded negro. This strange face was set off, and in a manner
overshadowed, by a pair of most remarkable ears. Not only were they
large, but they projected almost at right angles from the head, which
gave them the appearance of always being pricked forward with an air of
extreme attention or curiosity. Above and in front of these the head was
covered with a thick growth of kinky hair, which had been for so long
brushed, pulled, or otherwise trained forward that it surrounded the
face like a sort of a furry hood. On account of it some wag in the
far-away country from which this odd-looking individual came had called
him “Nimbus,” and this name had clung to him ever since. He was so short
as to be almost a dwarf, but his body was thick-set, and powerful enough
to belong to a giant. The length of his arms was extraordinary, and so
was the size of his feet, but his legs were so ridiculously short that
he waddled rather than walked. He was as strong as two ordinary strong
men, and at the same time he was tender-hearted, obliging, good-natured,
a fair sailor, and a capital cook. He was a Guinea negro, from the west
coast of Africa, but had passed the greater part of his life in the
galleys of sailing-vessels, and had thus visited most of the principal
ports of the world. He was fond of occasionally returning to his own
country, which he managed to do about once in every two or three years.
Such was the individual who now appeared at the top of the
companion-ladder, and exclaimed,
"T’ank de good Lord, gemmen, you’s come at las’! Me an’ de cap’n, we’se
been habin’ a mons’rous hard time, an’ we’se mos’ gib up. You mus’ scuse
me, gemmen, fur not bein’ on de deck to receib you proper an’
ship-shape, but I ain’t had no sleep fur more’n a week, an’ I jus’
takin’ a nap. You see, fus’ de port watch on deck all night, den de cook
he busy waitin’ on de cap’n all night, den de starbor’ watch he up all
night, den de fus’ ossifer, den de secon’ ossifer, dey don’ get no sleep
all night, an’ I is all ob um. Yes, sah, ole Nim he ebberyt’ing but
cap’n ob de _Esmeral_ now. De res’ all dead an’ go oberboard. De feber
catch um. Sometime one, sometime two, t’ree togedder. De las’ one, he de
fus’ mate, die more’n t’ree day. De cap’n here, he mos’ die, but ole Nim
pull um troo; couldn’ be lef’ alone nohow. Where you’ ship, eh?"
As he asked this question Nimbus looked around with a perplexed air, in
search of the vessel from which he supposed these strangers must have
come.
Wolfe was delighted with this odd character, and now glad of a chance to
use his tongue, he told their story as briefly as possible, and ended by
saying that they were awfully hungry.
Nothing pleased Nimbus more than a chance to cook for strangers; and,
with a broad grin on his hooded face, he waddled away towards the
galley, saying,
“Dreckly, gemmen! dreckly ole Nim get you mons’rous fine breakfus.”
In the mean time Captain McCloud had recovered his composure, and now,
to Wolfe’s amazement, Breeze introduced him as his father. At the same
time he said, “Wolfe Brady is my dorymate, father, and next to you and
mother, my dearest friend. We haven’t known each other very long, but
what we’ve been through with has made us pretty well acquainted.”
[Illustration: “ME AN’ DE CAP’N, WE’S BEEN HABIN’ A MONS’ROUS HARD
TIME.”]
“Yes, sir,” said Wolfe, “we met only about three weeks ago, but in that
time your adopted son has twice saved my life at the risk of his own,
and we have been in some rather tight places together. I don’t mind
saying, now that it is all over with and we are standing on a good solid
deck once more, that drifting around in that dory, through the fog of
the last two days, was about the meanest fix of them all, and I hadn’t
much hope that we were going to get out of it either. I’d go through
with all its suffering and anxiety again, though, for the sake of being
present at such a wonderful meeting as this. I never heard of anything
like it.”
“It is truly a wonderful meeting,” replied Captain McCloud, “and there
have got to be a great many explanations made before we shall understand
how it was all brought about. Certainly we have been guided in
marvellous ways. You said your mother was well, Breeze?”
“Yes, sir, quite well,” answered Breeze, “and looking for you to come in
at any time.”
“So she hasn’t given me up yet! Bless the little woman! Well, there’s a
chance of getting there now. I didn’t think there was any hope of it
three days ago, when the mate died, and left Nimbus and me alone on the
old brig, and I too weak to lift a rope’s end.”
“Do you mean to say, father,” exclaimed Breeze, who had not comprehended
the true state of affairs before this, “that you two are the only ones
left aboard?”
“Yes,” replied the captain, sadly, “we have buried all the rest, and are
the only survivors of a crew of twelve souls.”
“That’s the reason, then, you’re under such short sail.”
“Yes, she was got under this canvas in a blow, two weeks ago, while the
mate and two others of the crew were alive, and still able to work.
Since then there has not been force enough on board to do anything with
them. Nimbus is as strong as an ox, and he can manage the head-sails
alone. I believe he got the course clewed up too; but the poor fellow
has had a hard time trying to steer, cook, wait on me, keep a lookout,
set the lights, ring the fog-bell, bury the dead, and in fact do all the
work of twelve men. He fell asleep last night on the cabin floor,
utterly exhausted. This morning I was going to try and shift for myself,
and let him have his sleep out. I was about to look for something to eat
when you came aboard. I’m feeling hungry for the first time in weeks.”
“Faith, sir!” cried Wolfe, “it must be catching. I’m so hungry myself
that if starving’s any worse it would take a wiser man than I am to
point out the difference. And to think, Breeze, of the elegant biscuit
we left behind in the dory! If we’d only eaten them yesterday, and had
the comfort of them! Never mind, we’ll have them up after a while for a
dessert, like, for of all the sea-biscuit ever I tasted those have the
finest flavor. But here comes breakfast now, praised be the cook!”
Nimbus was going to carry the breakfast down into the cabin, but Captain
McCloud said they had better eat on deck, on account of the fever that
had been in the cabin. “I tried to warn you, Breeze, against coming too
close to me when I first saw you,” he added, “but you didn’t seem to pay
any attention.”
“As if I could have, father, when I was so surprised and so happy!”
replied Breeze, reproachfully.
Never had a meal tasted better, or been more thoroughly enjoyed by the
dorymates than this one, and it seemed as though they could not stop
eating. Even Captain McCloud developed a wonderful appetite for a sick
man. He ate so heartily that Nimbus, who waddled around them, his face
beaming with pleasure, as he brought them this thing or that, began to
grow somewhat anxious and exclaimed,
“Take care, cap’n; you’ ’tomach’s powerful weak yet, an’ you mus’n’t
s’prise um too much!”
“Which are you now, Nimbus, doctor or cook?” asked Captain McCloud,
smiling at the faithful fellow’s anxiety.
“I’se bofe, cap’n. De ship’s doctor and de ship’s cook am de same.
P’r’aps de cook tell you eat, an’ de doctor tell you not eat. You min’
um bofe, den you all right. You min’ de cook, you eat too much. Berry
bad! You min’ de doctor, you eat too little. Berry bad too! You min’ ole
Nim, you all right. Berry good!”
Wolfe was immensely amused at all this, and the negro’s comical
appearance, together with his earnest manner, caused the young Irishman
to roar with laughter. He declared that Nimbus had more sense in his
woolly head than half the white folks he knew, and that if he were as
good a doctor as he was a cook, he ought to be a member of the Royal
College of Surgeons.
“Don’ know nuffin ’bout no surgins, sah,” replied Nimbus, showing the
ivory of his teeth in a broad grin, and highly flattered by this praise;
“but if de young gemman’s ready for anodder cup ob coffee, I’se got um
a-bilin’ in de camboose.”[G]
-----
Footnote G:
Camboose or caboose. Both are used in referring to a ship’s galley, or
place for cooking. Caboose is, however, the more common expression.
-----
“Will I have another cup of coffee? Of course I will! It’s the best I
ever tasted. I tell you what, Breeze, there’s nothing like drifting
around a few days without anything to eat to make a fellow appreciate a
meal like this.”
“We had the sea-biscuit,” said Breeze.
“Yes, sea-biscuit! But what did they amount to? Dry, tasteless things!
I’d almost as soon eat so many chips,” exclaimed Wolfe, in a scornful
tone, as he finished the last mouthful of a hot buttered roll.
“Then you are not going to have them up for a sort of a dessert?”
“Dessert! I should say not. I hope I’ll never have to see one, much less
eat one again. They would always remind me of drifting through a
fog-bank in an open dory.”
All of which goes to show how very differently a hungry man and a
well-fed man may view the same object.
The sea still remained unruffled by a breath, and after breakfast
Captain McCloud said, “So long as there’s nothing we can do until we get
some wind, we’ve a chance for a yarn. If you’d like to hear about it
I’ll tell you how I happen to be aboard this brig, and how she got into
the sad condition you see her in now.”
As both Breeze and Wolfe expressed the strongest desire to hear the
captain’s story, he related it to them as follows:
“You remember, Breeze, when I left home in the old _Sea Robin_ last
October for the Banks I said that if all went well I’d be back in time
for Christmas?”
“Yes, sir, I remember.”
“Well, we made a fair trip, but did not fill up as fast as I had hoped
we would, so that it got to be pretty near Christmas-day before we saw
our way clear to picking up our anchor and heading for Gloucester.
By-the-way, have any of the _Robin’s_ crew ever turned up?”
“No, sir; not one of them. You were reported as seen on the 15th of
December, but since then not a word has come from you until this day.”
"Poor fellows! they’re long since gone, then. Well, as I was saying, we
were all ready to start for home the day before Christmas, when there
came on such a gale of wind as I’ve rarely seen in these latitudes. By
night it was a hurricane, and such a sea was running that it seemed as
though each wave must swallow the schooner as it came rushing-down on
her. We were hove-to under a three-reefed foresail, and the riding-sail
with a bag-reef tied in it. About nine o’clock in the evening, I’d been
on deck so long, and was so drenched and chilled, that I stepped into
the forecastle to get a cup of coffee. There was one other man there,
poor Dick Simonds--you remember him, Breeze--and the cook. The rest were
either on deck or in the cabin.
"I had just braced myself between the foremast and the edge of a bunk,
and was reaching for the coffee, when the vessel seemed to give a great
leap in the air. When she dropped it was on her beam ends, and I could
feel her settling down. The cook got out someway, how I don’t know; but
Dick was met by the water pouring in the companion-way. He pulled the
slide to keep it out, thinking she’d right in a minute if she didn’t
fill first.
"At the first shock I was so braced that, lying on my back as I was, I
couldn’t move, and when I did get right side up, there we were, Dick and
I, shut up like two rats in a trap, and the schooner was bottom side up.
"Dick stood it as long as he could, which I suppose was some time the
next day. By then it had got so quiet overhead that we judged the storm
had gone down. At the same time we knew our air must be escaping, for we
could feel the water slowly but surely rising in the forecastle. The
rats were becoming troublesome, too, and swarming over us. Though we
couldn’t see them, we managed to catch and drown quite a number of them.
"At last Dick said he couldn’t die but once anyhow, and that he was
going to make a try for one more breath of fresh air and one more sight
of God’s blessed daylight. He succeeded in smashing off the
companion-way slide, and a faint light came in through the water, so we
knew it was day. I didn’t remember till afterwards that it was
Christmas-day, and I’m glad I didn’t.
"Dick’s plan was to dive through the opening with the hope that he’d
clear the rigging and sails underneath it some way or another. I tried
to dissuade him from trying it, and pointed out how slim his chance was;
but he was bound to go. He said it was better to drown at once and have
it over with than to stay in there and meet a slow death along with the
rats. He stripped off his clothes so as to have a better chance of
swimming, wrung my hand, and said, ‘Good-by, skipper. If I get out,
you’ll hear me pounding. If you don’t hear anything you’ll know what’s
happened.’ Then he drew in a long breath, and made a dive for the hole.
He got through it, I know, for I saw the ray of light darken and then
come again; but I didn’t hear a sound from him afterwards, though I
listened for more than an hour.
“But hello, boys! here comes a puff of wind and there’s more behind it.
If you and Nimbus can manage to get some sail on the old craft we will
make a start for home, and I’ll spin you the rest of my yarn some other
time.”