Harry Gurton stood gazing on the glassy sea till his eyes ached with the
bright glare, his thoughts wandering back to the days of his happy
childhood, when he was the pride and delight of his beloved father and
mother. He had come on deck only to breathe a purer air than was to be
found below.
Soon after leaving the coast of South America a fever had broken out on
board, and several of the crew lay sick in their berths. Their
heartless shipmates, afraid of catching the complaint, took little care
of them. Humphry could not bear to see them suffer without help, and
from the first had done his best to attend on them. He constantly went
round, taking them water and such food as he could induce the cook to
prepare.
Tom Matcham was the only officer who had as yet been struck down by the
fever. He lay in his berth tossing and groaning, complaining of his
hard lot. The officers, who were annoyed by his cries, often abused
him, telling him roughly not to disturb them.
"The cruel brutes! I will be revenged on them if I ever get well,"
exclaimed Matcham.
In vain Humphry tried to pacify him.
"Don't mind what they say, Tom," he observed. "I hope you may get well;
but if you were to die, it would be dreadful to go out of the world with
such feelings in your heart. I remember enough about religion to know
that we should forgive those who injure us. If you will let me, I will
try to say some of the prayers which my mother taught me when I was a
child, and I will pray with you. I have got a Testament, and I should
like to read to you out of it."
"I can't pray, and I don't want to hear anything from the Testament,"
answered Tom gloomily.
"It would be very dreadful if you were to go out of the world feeling as
you now do," urged Humphry.
"What! you don't mean to say you think I am going to die!" exclaimed Tom
in an agitated voice.
"I tell you honestly, Tom, that you seem as bad as the two poor fellows
who died last week," said Humphry.
"Oh, you are croaking," groaned Tom, though his voice faltered as he
spoke.
After talking for some time longer without being able to move him,
Humphry was compelled to go forward to attend to some of the other men.
In the first hammock he came to lay Ned Hadow, one of the oldest, and
apparently one of the most ruffianly of the crew. He seemed, however,
to be grateful to Humphry for his kindness; and he acknowledged that if
it had not been for him, he should have been fathoms down in the deep
before then.
"I hope, however, that you are getting better now," said Humphry.
"Thanks to you, sir, I think I am," answered Ned. "I don't want to die,
though I cannot say I have much to live for, nor has any one else aboard
this ship, except to be abused and knocked about without any chance of
gaining any good by the cruise."
"Perhaps we may do better by and by," observed Humphry.
"I have no hopes of that while such men as the captain and his mates
have charge of the ship. Take my advice, Mr Gurton, if you have a
chance, get out of her as fast as you can. You will thank me for
warning you--it is the only way I have to show that I am grateful to you
for your kindness."
Hadow's remarks made no deep impression upon Humphry, but he could not
help occasionally recollecting them.
After visiting the other sick men, he went on deck to keep his proper
watch; then, weary with his exertions, he turned into his berth to
obtain the rest he so much needed.
He was awakened by hearing the cry of "All hands shorten sail!" He
quickly sprang on deck.
A gale had suddenly sprung up. The ship was heeling over, and ploughing
her way through the seething waters. The crew flew aloft. The loftier
sails were taken in, and the top-sails were being closely reefed, when
another blast, more furious than the former, struck the ship, and two
poor fellows were hurled from the lee-yard-arm into the foaming waters.
There was a cry from the crew, and several rushed to lower a boat--
Humphry among them.
"Hold fast!" cried the captain; "let the fellows drown; you will only
lose your lives if you attempt to save them."
Still the men persisted, showing more humanity than they had exhibited
in attending to their sick shipmates, when the captain swore that he
would shoot any one who disobeyed him. Though spare spars and
everything that could float had been hove overboard, the poor fellows in
the water could no longer be seen.
The crew, with gloomy looks, assembled forward, muttering threats which
did not reach the officers' ears.
The change of weather had the effect of restoring some of the sick men
to health, though several died. Among the first to appear on deck was
Ned Hadow. He still looked weak and ill--the shadow of his former self.
He was changed in other respects, and Humphry observed that he was
quiet in his behaviour, and no longer swore in the way he had been
accustomed to do.
Matcham remained in his berth. He seemed a little better, though he
still refused to listen to Humphry when he offered to read the Bible to
him, and when asked the reason, replied, "Because I am not going to let
those fellows suppose that I am afraid to die. They would be sneering
at me, and calling me a Methodist; and I don't intend to die either, so
I don't see why I should bother myself by having religion thrust down my
throat."
"If you are not going to die, I suppose the case is different," answered
Humphry. "Still, I know that if you were, the Bible is the best book to
read. I wish that I had read it oftener myself."
"If I can get hold of it, I will take care that neither you nor I am
troubled with it in future," answered Matcham. "You have teased me too
much about it already. I wish you would just try what the captain or
mates would say to you if you were to bother them."
Humphry put his little Testament into his pocket, determining that his
messmate should not get hold of it. Still, much as he valued the book
as a gift from his old friend, he looked upon it, as many other people
do, as a book to be reverenced, and to be read in times of sickness or
trouble; but he had little notion of the value of an open Bible, to be
studied with prayer every day in the week, to serve as a light to his
feet and a lamp to his path, and to guide him in the everyday affairs of
life.
Humphry, wishing Matcham good evening, went on deck.
As he looked ahead, he saw in the distance a small island rising like a
rock out of the blue ocean. The ship was standing towards it. The sun,
however, was just then setting, and in a short time it was concealed
from sight by the mists of night. As he was to keep the first watch
with the third mate, he went down and took some supper. When he
returned on deck, he found that the sky was overcast with clouds, and
that the night was excessively dark. He could scarcely distinguish the
man at the helm or the officer of the watch.
"Is that you, Gurton?" asked the third mate. "The orders are to heave
to in an hour, so as not to run past the island we saw at sunset, as the
captain wishes to examine it to-morrow morning. Go forward, and see
that the look-outs are keeping their eyes open; the reefs may run
further off the land than we think for."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered Humphry, making his way along the deck.
Having spoken to the men as directed, he stood for some minutes trying
to pierce the thick gloom, and as he was sure no danger could be seen
till the ship was close upon it, he resolved to return aft, and advise
the mate to heave her to sooner than he had been ordered.
When just abreast of the fore-rigging, he suddenly felt his arms
pinioned behind him, and a gag thrust into his mouth. At the same time
a voice whispered in his ear, which he recognised as Ned Hadow's, "Do
not cry out--no harm is intended you; what we do is for your good." The
next instant he felt himself lifted off his feet and placed in the
fore-rigging, up which a man on either side forced him to ascend. He
soon reached the top.
"He will be safer in the cross-trees," said one of the men, and he was
compelled to ascend till he got there. "We must make you fast where you
are," whispered Hadow, compelling Humphry to sit down on the
cross-trees, and lashing him to the rigging. "If you will promise not
to cry out, we will remove the gag from your mouth; if not, you must be
content to bear it for some time longer. Here, press my hand if you
promise to do as I tell you--I can trust to your word."
Humphry was very anxious to get rid of the gag, which hurt him, and
pressed the hand placed in his. The gag was immediately taken out of
his mouth.
"Whatever sounds you hear, or whatever you see, don't cry out, as you
value your life," whispered Hadow.
The next moment Humphry was left alone. He sat wondering why he had
been thus treated. Hadow could certainly not have intended to injure
him; at the same time, he could not help fearing that the crew
contemplated some dreadful act of mutiny, and that Hadow had contrived
to get him up there to keep him out of harm's way. Nothing could he see
but the tall mast above his head tapering towards the dark sky, and the
yard and ropes immediately below him. All on deck seemed quiet, no
voices reached his ear.
The moments passed slowly by. Suddenly a loud shriek rent the air,
followed by a heavy groan; then came the flash and report of a pistol--
another, and another followed. Now rose fierce shouts and cries from
many voices, loud thundering blows, and the clash of cutlasses. A
desperate fight was going on. He no longer had any doubt that the
officers had been attacked, and were struggling for their lives.
Suddenly, as they began, all sounds of strife ceased, though he could
now distinguish the voices of the crew shouting to each other.
The helm during the contest had been deserted, and the ship had come up
to the wind. It seemed a relief to him to hear the boatswain's voice
ordering the crew to brace up the yards. The ship was then hove to.
No one, however, came to release him. If his friend Hadow had fallen in
the strife, what would be his fate when the rest of the crew discovered
him? The dreadful certainty forced itself upon his mind, that the
officers had been overcome. He heard the men moving about the deck, and
talking in loud voices to each other; but though he listened eagerly, he
could not ascertain what was said.
Hour after hour passed by. No one came aloft to release him.
Notwithstanding the fearful anxiety he felt, he at length dropped off
into forgetfulness; but his dream were troubled, and full of the horrors
which had just occurred.