"RANGER" TAKES A SOUTHERLY COURSE--ALBATROSSES APPEAR ASTERN--HOLT
PREPARES HIS RIFLE--MISS MORLEY PLEADS FOR THE BIRDS--HOLT KILLS AN
ALBATROSS--A SUPERSTITION OF SEAMEN--THE FATE OF THE ANCIENT MARINER--
MRS RUMBELOW'S OPINIONS ON THE SUBJECT--SERJEANT RUMBELOW--MUSIC HEARD
OVER THE OCEAN--A SHIP PASSED AT NIGHT--A HAIL FROM THE "RANGER"--
BLOWING HARD--MRS RUMBELOW COMFORTS THE SICK--THE COLONEL CAUTIONS THE
COMMANDER--LOOK-OUT FOR ICEBERGS--THE COLONEL'S WIFE AND DAUGHTERS--THE
COLONEL'S PRACTICAL RELIGION--A CALM.
The lofty height of Table Mountain sank lower and lower in the blue
ocean as the "Ranger" stood towards the south.
"I propose taking the short circle on our voyage eastward," said
Commander Newcombe to Colonel Morley. "We may experience somewhat cold
weather; but, at this time of the year we may hope to escape heavy
gales, and it is important, with so many men on board, to make a quick
passage. If, too, our water should run scarce, we may obtain a supply
from the icebergs, with which it is not impossible we may fall in now
and then."
"I hope we may not run foul of one," observed Colonel Morley.
"No fear of that, colonel, if we have our eyelids open, and our wits
about us," answered the commander of the "Ranger."
The sea was calm, the wind light, and the "Ranger" glided proudly over
the smooth sea. The ladies and most of the other passengers were on
deck. Two or three of the lieutenants and ensigns brought up their
rifles and proposed shooting at the albatrosses, which, with expanded
wings, floated around the ship, now rising high in the air, now darting
down on the scrapings of the mess tins which had been thrown overboard.
Ensign Holt had just loaded his rifle.
"I think I can hit that fellow," he exclaimed, pointing at a magnificent
bird which, at the instant, came swooping down near the stern.
"Oh! do not be so cruel," exclaimed Miss Morley, who observed him. "I
could not suppose that anybody with right feeling would wish to deprive
so beautiful a creature of its joyous existence. How delightful it must
be to fly at freedom through the clear blue air, and remain thus, for
days and weeks together, away from the heat and dust of the shore."
The ensign reddened, and lowered his weapon from his shoulder, and the
albatross swept off to a distance, far out of range of his rifle.
"I was only thinking of the good practice they would give us," he
observed; "but your interference, Miss Morley, has saved the bird's
life."
"That is to say, Holt, it prevented you from firing," observed
Lieutenant Dawson; "it does not follow that the bird would have been the
sufferer."
Lieutenant Hickman and Ensign Gonne laughed heartily, for Holt was not
celebrated for his shooting. The magnificent birds continued as before,
hovering about the ship, not aware of the evil intentions harboured
against them by the young officers.
Ensign Holt was nettled, and, notwithstanding Miss Morley's remark, was
longing for an opportunity of exhibiting his skill. She soon afterwards
went below, when he again prepared, as he said, to bring down an
albatross. He and his brother officers, however, fired several shots
without producing any effect. A rifle ball at length striking one of
the birds, the white feathers were seen flying from its breast; upwards
it soared, making several wide circuits, then once more darted towards
the surface of the water, apparently not in any way the sufferer.
While the young officers were thus engaged, Commander Newcombe appeared
on the poop. "I do not wish to interfere with the amusements of my
passengers," he observed; "but we sailors are apt to be superstitious,
and we hold to the idea, if one of those magnificent birds is wantonly
killed by any one on board a ship, she is sure to meet with some
misfortune."
"Why, captain, I do not see that there can be any more harm in killing
an albatross than shooting a pheasant," answered Ensign Holt, who was
somewhat vexed at being thus a second time interfered with.
"The pheasant, sir, might serve for dinner," observed the commander,
"but I do not fancy you would wish to eat an albatross, even should you
happen to shoot one, and we could lower a boat and pick it up. I
confess I do not like to see the creatures wantonly injured. You may
break a leg or wing of one of them, and leave it to suffer and die out
in the ocean here; but your rifle balls can scarcely penetrate the
bird's thick coat of feathers, unless you get a fair shot at close
range, so as to kill it outright."
The young ensign, who did not at all like to be thus thwarted by the
commander, had been watching a bird which, bolder than its companions,
had more than once swooped close up to the taffrail. Determined to
prove that he was not the bad shot it was supposed, he had kept his
rifle capped and ready; he lifted it as the commander spoke, and fired.
The albatross rose for an instant, and then, with expanded wings, fell
heavily into the water, where it was seen struggling in a vain effort to
rise.
"You have done for him, old fellow, at all events," cried Lieutenant
Dawson.
"Well, Holt, you have retrieved your character," remarked the other
ensign.
"I wish that Mr Holt would have listened to my advice," said the
commander, turning away annoyed. The young officers were too much
engaged watching the poor bird to observe this. In another instant the
struggles of the wounded albatross ceased, and immediately several of
its companions pounced down upon it, and, ere the ship had run it out of
sight, the body was almost torn in pieces.
"Why, it appears that your pets are somewhat ferocious creatures,"
observed Lieutenant Dawson, pointing out what had occurred to Commander
Newcombe, who had again returned aft.
"That is their nature, gentlemen," he replied; "I have an idea, too,
that it was implanted in them for a beneficent purpose. Better that the
creature should be put out of its pain at once than linger on in agony.
If we come to look into the matter, we shall find that every living
creature is imbued with certain habits and propensities for a good
purpose. I do not hold that anything happens by chance, or that the
albatross is unworthy of being treated with humanity, because it acts in
what you call a savage way. You will pardon me for being thus
plain-spoken, gentlemen; and now Mr Holt has shown his skill by
shooting one of those poor birds, I will ask you to favour me by not
attempting to kill any more."
Though not over well pleased at the interference of the commander, the
young officers, feeling that his rebuke was just, discharged their
rifles in the air, and did not again produce them during the voyage.
Willy Dicey and Peter Patch had been on the poop when these remarks had
been made. "I say, Dicey, do you suppose that the commander really
believes harm will come to the ship because Ensign Holt killed the
albatross?" asked Peter, as they took a turn together on the port side
of the quarterdeck.
"I should think not," answered Willy. "I do not see what the one thing
has to do with the other."
"The sailors say, however, that it is very unlucky to kill an
albatross," observed Peter. "They fancy that the souls of people who
die at sea fly about in the bodies of albatrosses, I suppose, or
something of that sort--I am not quite certain; and for my part I wish
that Ensign Holt had been less free with his rifle. I have always
thought him a donkey, and donkeys do a good deal of mischief sometimes."
"I will ask Harry Shafto what he thinks about it," said Willy. "I have
read a poem about a man who shot an albatross, and all the people died
on board, and the ship went floating about till the masts and sails
rotted, and he alone remained alive."
"I suppose he lived on the ship's stores then," observed Peter. "He
would have had plenty to eat, as there was no one to share the grub with
him; but I should not like to have been in his skin. Did he ever get to
shore, or how did people come to know it?"
"I think the old hulk reached the land after a good many years," said
Willy; "but I am not quite certain about that."
"He must have had a terrible life of it, all alone by himself," said
Peter. "I should like to hear more of the story; but, I say, Dicey, are
you certain that it is true?"
"No, I rather think it is a poet's fancy, for the story is written in
verse," answered Willy.
"Well! that's some comfort," observed Peter; "because, you see, if the
same thing was to happen to us, we should all have to die, and Ensign
Holt would be the only person left on board the `Ranger.'"
Harry Shafto soon afterwards coming on deck, the two midshipmen appealed
to him for his opinion. Harry laughed heartily.
"I think, however, that those soldier-officers might as well have let
the poor birds alone," he observed. "It is a cruel thing to shoot them,
but I do not think any further harm will come of it."
Still, neither Peter nor Willy were quite satisfied. "I'll ask Mrs
Rumbelow what she thinks about it," said Willy. "She will soon get the
opinion of the seamen, and I should not quite like to ask them myself."
As soon as their watch was over, the two midshipmen went below, where
they found Mrs Rumbelow seated on a chest, busily employed in darning
her husband's stockings, or in some other feminine occupation, as was
her wont: Mrs Rumbelow's fingers were never idle.
"Glad to see you, young gentlemen," she said, looking up from her work.
"Well, Mr Dicey, you don't look like the same person you were before we
reached the Cape; by the time you get home again they won't know you."
"If all goes well with us, perhaps not," said Willy; "but Ensign Holt
has gone and killed an albatross, and perhaps, as you know, that is a
very dreadful thing to do. They say that evil is sure, in consequence,
to come to the ship."
Mrs Rumbelow looked at the faces of her two young visitors. "Do you
think seriously that God rules the world in that fashion?" she asked, in
a somewhat scornful tone. "Because a foolish young gentleman happens to
kill a bird, will He who counts the hairs of our heads allow a number of
His creatures, who have nothing to do with the matter, to suffer in
consequence. Do not let such nonsense enter your heads, my dears."
"We wanted you, Mrs Rumbelow, to inquire of the seamen what they think
about the matter," said Willy.
"I will do no such thing, and that's my answer," replied the sergeant's
wife; "harm may come to the ship, but it won't be because of that, or
anything of the sort."
Just then Sergeant Rumbelow himself came up: in appearance he was very
unlike his wife. Whereas she was tall and thin, he was comparatively
short and broad; indeed, though of the regulation height, his width made
him appear shorter than he really was; while his countenance, though
burnt and tanned by southern suns and exposure to all sorts of weather,
was fat and rubicund. He held his sides and laughed so heartily at the
account his wife gave him of the questions which had been put to her,
that Willy and Peter wished they had not mentioned the subject.
The wind was light and the ship made but little way for several days.
Shafto, though only a mate, did duty as a lieutenant. Willy was in his
watch; it was the middle watch. Willy enjoyed such opportunities of
talking with his friend. The sea was perfectly smooth, there was only
wind sufficient just to fill the sails, and the ship was making scarcely
three knots through the water. Every now and then a splash was heard;
some monster of the deep rose to the surface, and leaping forth, plunged
back again into its native element. Strange sounds seemed to come from
the far distance. A thick fog arose and shrouded the ship, so that
nothing could be seen beyond the bowsprit.
"Keep a bright look-out there, forward," sang out Shafto every now and
then, in a clear ringing voice, which kept the watch forward on the
alert.
"Hark!" said Willy; "I fancy I heard singing."
"You heard the creaking yards against the masts, perhaps," said Shafto.
"No, I am certain it is singing," exclaimed Willy; "listen!"
Harry and his companion stopped in their walk; even Harry could not help
confessing that he heard sweet sounds coming over the water. "Some
emigrant ship, perhaps, bound out to Auckland," he observed; "the
passengers are enjoying themselves on deck, unwilling to retire to their
close cabins. Sounds travel a long distance over the calm waters. She
is on our beam, I suspect; but we must take care not to run into each
other, in case she should be more on the bow than I suppose." He hailed
the forecastle to learn if the look-out could see anything. "Nothing in
sight," was the answer. "Keep a bright look-out, then," he shouted.
"Ay, ay, sir," came from for'ard.
Soon after this the fog lifted. Far away on the starboard hand the dim
outline of a tall ship appeared standing across their course. "She will
pass under our stern if she keeps as she is now steering," observed
Harry; "the voices we heard must have come from her."
The stranger approached, appearing like some vast phantom floating over
the ocean, with her canvas spread on either hand to catch the light
wind. "A sail on the starboard beam," shouted the look-out, as he
discovered her. It appeared as if she would pass within easy hail,
when, just as Harry Shafto had told Willy to get a speaking-trumpet, she
appeared to melt into a thin mist.
"What has become of her?" exclaimed Willy, feeling somewhat awe-struck.
"She has run into a bank of fog which we had not perceived," said
Shafto; "I will hail her;" and taking the speaking-trumpet, he shouted
out, "What ship is that?" No answer came. Again he shouted, "This is
Her Majesty's ship `Ranger.'" All was silent. "Surely I cannot have
been deceived," he remarked; "my hail would have been answered if it had
been heard." Willy declared that he heard shouts and laughter, but
Harry told him that was nonsense, and that undoubtedly the stranger was
much further off than he had supposed her to be.
Before the watch was out, Harry had to turn the hands up to shorten
sail; a strong breeze was blowing, increasing every instant in violence.
Before morning the "Ranger" was ploughing her way through the ocean
under close-reefed topsails, now rising to the summit of a sea, now
plunged into the trough below. It was Willy's first introduction to
anything like a gale of wind.
"Well, Mr Dicey, you have at last got a sight of what the sea can be,"
said Roger Bolland, the boatswain, with whom Willy was a favourite.
"I have got a feeling, too, of what it can do," answered Willy, who was
far from comfortable.
"Don't you go and give in, though, like the soldiers below," said the
boatswain; "there are half of them on their backs already, and the gay
young ensigns, who were boasting only the other day of what capital
sailors they were, are as bad as the men."
Though the whole battalion had been sick, Mrs Rumbelow was not going to
knock under. She was as lively and active as ever, going about to the
ladies' cabins to assist them into their berths, and secure various
articles which were left to tumble about at the mercy of the sea. If
the truth must be known, she did not confine her attentions to them
alone, but looked in as she passed on the young ensigns, offering
consolation to one, handing another a little cold brandy and water, and
doing her best to take comfort to all.
At length, after the ship had been tumbled about for nearly ten days,
the gale began to abate, the soldiers recovered their legs, though
looking somewhat pale and woebegone, and the cabin passengers once more
appeared on deck. The weather, however, had by this time become very
cold; there was no sitting down, as before, with work or book in hand,
to while away the time; the ladies took to thick cloaks, and the
military officers in their greatcoats walked the deck with rapid steps,
as a matter of duty, for the sake of exercise. Gradually, too, the sea
went down, and the "Ranger" glided forward on her course under her usual
canvas.
Colonel Morley more than once asked the commander whether they had not
by this time got into the latitude where icebergs were to be found. "We
keep a sharp look-out for them, colonel, as I promised you," answered
the commander. "They are not objects we are likely to run upon while
the weather remains clear, and as long as we have a good breeze there is
no fear. They are, I confess, awkward customers to fall in with in a
thick foe during a calm."
"You may think I am over-anxious, captain," observed the colonel, "but
we cannot be too cautious with so many lives committed to our charge;
and when I tell you that I was sole survivor of the whole wing of a
regiment on board a ship lost by the over-confidence of her commander
when I was an ensign, you will not be surprised at my mentioning the
subject."
"You are right, colonel, you are right," said Commander Newcombe. "I
pray that no such accident will happen to us; but danger must be run,
though we who are knocking about at sea all our lives are apt to forget
the fact till it comes upon us somewhat suddenly."
Willy Dicey did not find keeping watch at night now quite so pleasant as
in warmer latitudes; still, with his pea-coat buttoned well up to his
chin, and his cap drawn tightly down over his head, he kept his post
bravely on the forecastle, where he now had the honour of being
stationed. "He is the most trustworthy midshipman on board," said Mr
Tobin, the first-lieutenant. "I can always depend on him for keeping
his eyes open, whereas Peter Patch is apt to shut his, and make-believe
he is wide awake all the time." This praise greatly encouraged Willy.
He determined to do his best and deserve it. Blow high or blow low, he
was at his station, never minding the salt sprays which dashed into his
eyes, and at times nearly froze there, when the wind blew cold and
strong.
The "Ranger" continued her course, making good way, the wind being
generally favourable.
The only grumblers among the passengers were three or four of the young
lieutenants and ensigns, who, having finished all their novels, and not
being addicted to reading works of a more useful description, found the
time hang heavily on their hands. They ought to have followed the
example of the Miss Morleys and their mother, who were never idle. Very
little has hitherto been said about them. They were both very nice
girls, without a particle of affectation or nonsense, though they had
lived in barracks for some portion of their lives. Fanny, the eldest,
was fair, with blue eyes, somewhat _retrousse_ nose, and good figure,
and if not decidedly pretty, the expression of her countenance was so
pleasing that no one found fault with any of her features. Emma was
dark, not quite so tall as her sister, but decidedly handsomer, with
hazel eyes and beautifully formed nose and mouth. As yet, perhaps, they
had had no opportunity of giving decided proof of any higher qualities
they may have possessed, but they were both right-minded, religious
girls. Some of the officers pronounced them far too strict, others
considered them haughty, and one or two even ventured to pronounce them
prudish, because they showed no taste for the frivolous amusements in
which the ordinary run of young ladies indulge; not that they objected
to dance, or to join in a pleasant pic-nic; indeed, the few who did find
fault with them complained only of the way in which they did those
things. Ensign Holt, who was not a favourite, whispered that he thought
them very deep, and that time would show whether they were a bit better
than other people. Neither Fanny nor Emma would have cared much for the
opinion of Ensign Holt, even had they been aware of it. He might
possibly have been prejudiced, from the fact that Mrs Morley, though
very kind and motherly to all the young officers, had found it necessary
to encourage him less than the rest. Ensign Holt, and indeed most of
his brother officers, had no conception of the principles which guided
the Misses Morley or their parents. They looked upon their colonel as
not a bad old fellow, though rather slow; but somehow or other he
managed to keep his regiment in very good order, and all the men loved
him, and looked up to him as to a father. It was his custom to read the
Bible every day in his cabin to his wife and daughters; and as there was
no chaplain on board, he acted the part of one for the benefit of his
men. His sermons were delivered in a fine clear voice, and were
certainly not too long for the patience of his hearers; but Ensign Holt
insisted that they were too strict: he did not like that sort of
theology. Lieutenants Dawson and Hickman were inclined to echo Holt's
opinion. Whatever the captains thought, they had the good taste to keep
it to themselves. Indeed, Power, the senior captain in the regiment,
was suspected of having a leaning toward the colonel's sentiments. No
one, however, could say that he was slow or soft: he was known to have
done several gallant acts, and was a first-rate officer, a keen
sportsman, and proficient in all athletic exercises. It was whispered
that Power was the only man likely to succeed with either the Miss
Morleys, though, as far as was observed, he paid them no particular
attention; indeed, he was not looked upon as a marrying man. He was the
only unmarried captain on board. Captain Gosling had left his wife at
home; and Mrs Twopenny was in delicate health, and generally kept her
cabin. She has not before been mentioned. There were no other ladies
on board, but there were several soldiers' wives, with their children,
though, altogether, there were fewer women than are generally found in a
troop-ship.
A calm unusual for these latitudes had prevailed for several days. Now
and then a light wind would come from the northward, just filling the
sails, but again dying away; now the ship glided slowly over the smooth
water; now she remained so stationary that the chips of wood swept
overboard from the carpenter's bench floated for hours together
alongside.
Peter Patch asked Willy whether he did not think that the fate which
befell the ship of the Ancient Mariner was likely to be theirs.
"I hope not," said Willy; "particularly if the icebergs, which they say
are not far off, should get round us, we should find it terribly cold."
"But we should not die of thirst, as the crew of that unfortunate ship
did," observed Peter; "that's one comfort."
"Very cold comfort, though," said Willy, who now and then ventured on a
joke, if only Peter and some other youngster were within hearing.