OVERBOARD AND INBOARD.
Nimbus was of a peculiarly nervous temperament, and very apt to do
things in moments of excitement that he regretted exceedingly as soon as
he found time for reflection. So, in the present instance, acting
impulsively, as he saw Breeze flung overboard in the darkness, he did
just the wrong thing, and what, half a minute later, he would have given
anything to undo. He should have tossed overboard a life-preserver or
other object that would float, put the helm hard down, and thrown the
brig up into the wind, thereby checking her headway and putting her into
a position to sail back over the course she had just come. At the same
time he should have called Captain McCloud and Wolfe. Above all, he
should have instantly cut loose dory No. 6, which was towing astern by a
short but stout line, so that Breeze might have a chance of seeing and
reaching it almost as soon as he came to the surface after his plunge.
Instead of doing any of these things, the impulsive negro, who was still
a young and active man though very fond of calling himself “old,” slid
down into the dory, cut the line by which she was towing, and seized a
pair of oars. He had done all this as silently as Breeze had tumbled
overboard, and without making a single outcry to alarm the two sleepers
left on board the brig.
The instant he had cut the line and found himself adrift he realized the
folly of his act, and began to shout at the top of his voice, in the
hope that it was not yet too late to arouse Captain McCloud and Wolfe.
At the same time he began to pull wildly after the swiftly moving brig.
He quickly realized that this was of no use, for she was moving three
feet to his one, nor did his shouts bring any response from those on
board. In spite of his excitement, a certain instinct told him that, so
long as he could not catch the brig, the only thing remaining for him to
do was to face about and try to find Breeze.
His movements had been so quick that he was at no great distance from
where the boy had struck the water, and was now swimming in the
direction of the vanishing brig. He, at least, heard the cries uttered
by Nimbus, and answered them. He had retained his presence of mind
wonderfully, and now realized that somebody was searching for him. So he
swam as easily as possible, but continued to shout at regular intervals;
and in about five minutes he had the satisfaction of seeing the dory
loom out of the darkness close beside him. In another minute he had
caught hold of its gunwale, and been drawn in, dripping and chilled, but
very thankful for this escape from what had seemed a hopeless situation.
His first glance was towards the brig, but he could not see even a
shadow resembling her. She had disappeared in the darkness as utterly as
though she had never existed.
“They must have put her about and headed her this way by this time,” he
said to Nimbus. “I wonder that we don’t see her.”
“No, sah; dey don’ put um ’bout. Dey sailin’ away, an’ nebber know
nuffin. Ole fool Nim nebber tell ’em good-by. Come off an’ keep on
sayin’ nuffin at all to nobody.”
“You don’t mean to say, Nimbus, that you left without giving any alarm!
without waking my father or Wolfe!”
“Yes, sah,” answered the black man in a most crestfallen tone. “Didn’t
wake nobody. Didn’t t’ink ob nuffin scusin’ how to sabe young cap’n.
Jump quick in boat, cut um ’drif, an’ come. Bimeby catch um, pull um in.
Here he is! Here we is!”
“Yes, that’s certain enough, ‘here we is,’ and how we’re going to get
out of this scrape it would puzzle a sea lawyer to tell. I suppose you
did the best thing you could think of. If you’d only given an alarm,
though! Now, with the wheel lashed, the brig may sail on for hours,
always getting farther and farther away from us, before either of them
wakes up. Well, we’re not dead yet, and while there’s life there’s hope.
I’m very grateful to you, at any rate, for coming to me so quickly. Now,
perhaps you can do me another good turn by telling me how to keep from
freezing to death in these wet clothes.”
Yes, indeed, Nimbus could do that, and in a minute more Breeze had
stripped off his soaked garments, slipped into his oil-skin jacket and
trousers, which had fortunately been left in the dory, and was rapidly
getting warm by hard work at the oars. At the same time Nimbus, with
powerful hands, was wringing the wet clothing as dry as though it were
in a centrifugal steam-wringer. Of course the things were still damp and
cold when Breeze again put them on; but, with his oil-skins drawn over
them to keep out the wind, and still keeping up his exercise with the
oars, he was soon in a glow.
As he rowed he instinctively kept the dory headed on the same course the
brig had taken, by holding her broadside to the wind, which still blew
steadily from the southward.
At last the day broke, gray and cheerless, but free from fog. Each time
the boat was lifted on a wave its occupants scanned the ever-widening
horizon eagerly, in the hope of sighting some vessel. At last the day
had fully come, and they knew the full extent of their disappointment.
Their frail craft was the only object floating on the whole weary
expanse of tumbling waters.
For a long time they sat in silence. Neither had any words of comfort to
offer the other. Finally Nimbus said, mournfully,
“Who you s’pose cookin’ on de brig for de cap’n, now ole Nim done gone?”
“I don’t know,” answered Breeze, rousing up from his sorrowful
reflections, and making a brave effort to throw off the gloomy thoughts
that were taking possession of him, “but I guess they’ll manage to make
out somehow. I know I could in their place.”
“Dey habin’ all de grub, an’ no cook in de camboose. We habin’ de cook,
but no grub an’ no camboose,” continued Nimbus, following up the train
of thoughts suggested by his hunger.
“No grub! Why, yes we have, right on board this very blessed dory,”
cried Breeze, to whose memory the black man’s words recalled the
ship-biscuit, a dozen of which still remained in the little stern
locker. The stock of provisions which he thereupon produced seemed to
restore both strength and hope to Nimbus, and he fairly laughed when he
saw it.
“Ole Nim all right,” he declared, “so long he teef keep a-grindin’ an’
a-crunchin’.”
As they ate one apiece of the precious biscuit Breeze thought of Wolfe’s
praise and disdain of this same food the day before, and wondered if he
should ever again see his light-hearted dorymate.
In the fresh-water keg so little of the precious fluid remained that
they allowed themselves only a single swallow with which to wash down
the dry biscuit. On this account their simple meal was as prolonged as
though it had been quite a substantial feast.
After they had finished this very unsatisfactory breakfast, and had
resolutely put away the few biscuit that remained, in spite of their
longing to eat them all, Nimbus said, “Well, young cap’n, wot we do
now?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Breeze, “unless we try and row to
land.”
“Wot lan’? Ware he? How far?”
“Father said yesterday that Sable Island bore due west 365 miles from
where we were then. We must have come, let me see, seven and a half
knots an hour for fourteen hours would be 105 miles. From 365, that
leaves 260, and we have rowed perhaps ten. It must be about 250 miles
away from us at this minute. Do you think we could possibly row that
distance, Nimbus?”
“Don’ know. Ole Mim row hard, row long way for grub. But how you fin’
um? Got no compass. How you steer um due wes’?”
“That’s so. I didn’t think of that. I don’t suppose the wind will always
blow from the southward. Perhaps it has changed and is blowing from some
other direction even now, and we don’t know the difference. And to think
that I have got a compass here and can’t open it! I suppose I might
manage to force the ball open with my knife, but that might break the
compass.”
“Wot you say? You got um compass?” exclaimed Nimbus, who had listened
attentively, while his companion thus thought aloud.
“Yes,” replied Breeze, drawing the golden ball from its pocket and
unclasping the chain. “There’s a compass in this ball, but nobody knows
how to open it.”
“Let ole Nim see um,” said the other, extending his great black hand for
the trinket.
He examined it with the closest attention for more than a minute, and
then said,
“Nim can open um.”
“You can open it?” exclaimed Breeze, in great astonishment.
“I t’ink so. Seen plenty all de same like um in de Eas’ Injes.”
“Well, let me see you do it.”
After much fumbling in the thick mat of wool that served him for hair,
Nimbus drew from it a pin. With this he began to trace out, carefully
and very slowly, the lines of the quaint pattern engraved on the surface
of the ball. He followed one of them around and around, in and out, for
several minutes, often stopping, going back, and beginning all over
again. He did not speak, and Breeze, eagerly watching his movements, was
also silent.
At last the movement of the pin was stopped, and on the spot that it
indicated the pressure of a thumb-nail released a spring. The upper half
of the ball swung on its pivot, and once more its interior was displayed
to view.
“Well, if that don’t beat everything!” exclaimed Breeze. “How on earth
did you ever learn that trick, Nimbus?”
“Him a labyrim ball,” answered the black man.
“A what?”
“A labyrim. Same like you might get los’ in.”
“Oh, a labyrinth.”
“Yes, sah, a labyrim, an’ if you fin’ de p’int ob de startin’, an foller
to de end, den you open um.”
This was indeed the whole secret of the ball, and after it had been
explained to Breeze he too could trace the delicate line from its
beginning, which was plainly to be seen, to its end above the hidden
spring. There was no distinguishing mark to indicate this point, and it
was almost impossible to locate it, even after one had found it many
times, without first tracing out the labyrinth. The accident by which
Breeze had hit upon it and opened the ball while asleep was so unlikely
to occur that, knowing the secret, he now wondered more than ever that
it had happened. Nimbus had learned the secret of similar puzzles upon
one of his many voyages to East Indian ports, and was made proud and
happy by this opportunity of displaying his skill.
“Now,” he said, with a smile that exhibited two glistening rows of
ivory, “we got a compass, we go fur Saple Islan’. Ole Nim row like
steam-ingin’.”
And he did row like a steam-driven machine, with long, powerful strokes,
hour after hour, all through the day--never faltering, never stopping,
and never seeming to tire. To Breeze, who watched him with
ever-increasing astonishment, he was a marvel of endurance. Breeze also
rowed with the second pair of oars the greater part of the day; but he
was several times obliged to stop and rest. With such unflagging energy
was the dory urged forward that when night came he did not doubt they
had made fifty miles since morning. He really began to hope that they
might possibly reach Sable Island, though he still admitted that the
chances were largely against their doing so.
They had decided to eat but two biscuit apiece each day, and thus make
their scanty store last them three days; after which they looked forward
to two days of starving before they could hope to sight the island. Even
when they should have covered the required distance, they knew how
little chance there was of their finding the long, low sand-bank, which
is all that Sable Island is. The probabilities were that currents or
winds might carry them so far either to the north or south that they
would miss it entirely. They anticipated great suffering, and nerved
themselves to bear it; but, happily, they were not to be called upon to
undergo it.
Night had fallen, and as they could no longer see their compass, and the
sky still remained overcast, they had ceased to row. Breeze, tired out
with his day’s hard work, had fallen into a doze, while Nimbus sat
silently gazing into the darkness. Breeze had slept for about an hour
when he was awakened by a touch, and the voice of the black man saying,
“Young cap’n, dere’s a light!”
The boy sprang up and gazed eagerly in the direction indicated. For a
while he could see nothing; then he caught a momentary glimpse of it,
the red side-light of some vessel sailing past them far to the
southward. Nimbus had already taken to the oars, and was pulling like a
madman in that direction. Watching the light closely, Breeze soon saw
that it was moving too fast for them either to intercept or overtake it.
“It’s no use, Nimbus,” he said finally, “you are only wasting your
strength. We can never catch that fellow. Oh for a match, though! If we
could only make some kind of a flare!”
“Match!” cried Nimbus. “Yes, sah; dreckly, sah!”
With this he began to fumble again in his thatch of wool, which seemed
almost as well supplied with articles required by shipwrecked sailors as
was the famous bag in “The Swiss Family Robinson;” and in a moment he
drew a brimstone match from it.
Breeze was too busy cutting the oil-skin biscuit-bag into strips to
notice from what a curious safe the match was produced; and when it was
offered to him he only said, “Light it quick! and I believe we’ll start
a flare after all.”
In another moment one of the strips of oiled muslin was blazing finely;
and, standing on a thwart, Breeze held it as high as he could reach
above his head.
Before it had burned out another was lighted, and then another, but
still no answering signal was seen. The boy’s heart had almost failed
him as he lighted the last strip and waved it to and fro. Suddenly a
bright flame darted out of the blackness from the direction in which the
red light had just disappeared, and with a great blinding rush of joy he
knew that their signal had been seen and answered.
They still continued to row with all their might in that direction,
their hearts filled with the joyful emotions of unexpected hope.
Although they had no breath with which to express it, the thought that
it was the brig on her way back to look for them had entered both their
minds. Breeze saw visions of his father and Wolfe and home, with the
mother who awaited him there; while Nimbus revelled in thoughts of his
beloved camboose, and of all the good things he would cook and eat as
soon as he once more got into it.
A backward glance soon showed them both the sailing-lights of the
vessel, and told them that her course had been altered so that she was
headed in their direction. Then they began to shout, and at last heard
the welcome answering hail. Finally the ghostly outline of sails and
spars became visible. It was a schooner.
[Illustration: “BLESS MY SOUL, IF IT ISN’T BREEZE McCLOUD!”]
They could hardly believe it at first, so convinced had they become that
it must be the brig, but as she drew near they saw that she was indeed a
schooner, and a regular Gloucester Banker at that.
Five minutes later they stood on her deck, and as the light of a lantern
shone on his face, Breeze was seized by the hand, and a well-known voice
exclaimed, “Bless my soul if it isn’t Breeze McCloud!”