The longest night must come to an end. Many people, when kept awake in
a comfortable bed with the toothache or some other pain, or perhaps with
a little fever, think themselves very miserable, and much to be pitied.
Peter Pongo and I were rather worse off, tossing about on the grating
out on the Atlantic there, not having anything to eat, and not knowing
any moment when we might be washed away from our unsteady raft. How we
held on during all that night I cannot tell. The light came at last.
We knew where the east was by seeing a bright red streak in the sky. We
kept our eyes turned eagerly in that direction, for we fancied that
there we should see the schooner. Our view, however, was very much
circumscribed, and it was only as we were tossed up to the top of a sea
that we could obtain even a glimpse of the horizon. We had scarcely
time to assure ourselves whether or not there was a sail there before
either a foam-topped sea jumped up before us, or we sank down again into
the trough. We gazed, but we gazed in vain. No sail was to be seen.
In spite of our almost hopeless position we became very hungry, and,
what was worse, thirsty also. As the sun rose and struck down on our
heads my thirst increased. I felt certain that I could not hold on much
longer. Peter Pongo did not care so much about the hot sun, but he was
very hungry. Suddenly I saw some red objects floating near us in the
water. I looked again. Oh, how eager I felt to get them--they were
oranges. They were too far off to reach. I was afraid to quit the
grating. I had no strength left to swim. No sooner did Peter see them
than he slid off the raft, and swimming round them collected a dozen or
more before him, and pushing them on enabled me to pick them out of the
water. I felt greatly relieved when he was once more safe on the
grating. Oh, how delicious those oranges were! They were the means, I
doubt not, of preserving our lives. They quenched our thirst, but they
could not stop the pangs of hunger. The sun rose higher and higher,
till we guessed it was noon. The wind went down, but the sea still
continued to tumble us about most uncomfortably. Both of us were
becoming very drowsy when we started up--a loud shout sounded in our
ears. "Why, lads, you keep a bad look-out on board your craft," said a
voice. We looked up--a large ship was passing us. "Don't fear--we'll
pick you up," said the former speaker. I heard the cry of "helm's
alee!" The yards swung round, and the ship was rounded too. By that
time she seemed to have got a long way from us. Presently, however, we
saw a boat dashing among the seas towards us. I thought that her bow
would have come right down on our raft, but just then I felt a strong
arm grasp me by the shoulder, and haul me in, while Peter was treated in
the same way, and we were quickly alongside the ship. We were lifted on
board. She appeared full of people, who looked very kindly at us. At
first I could not speak a word; I did not know why. I thought that I
was going to say something, but no sound was produced. The people who
stood round remarked that I was a foreigner, and two or three people
came up and addressed me in strange languages, but of course I was not
more likely to answer them than I was my own countrymen. At last I
heard Peter Pongo, who had been much concerned at my silence, say, "Him
officer--speakie by and by." This remark seemed to satisfy those
present, and in about an hour I was able to sit up and explain what had
happened. I found that we had been rescued by an emigrant ship bound
for the Cape of Good Hope. I was in hope that she might be able to land
us at Sierra Leone, but I found that she could not possibly go out of
her course; indeed, that we were much to the southward of that place,
and that on to the Cape we also must go. In a very few minutes I
became, I must own, reconciled to the necessity. When the cabin
passengers found that I was a midshipman they rigged me out in very
comfortable clothes, and clubbing together presented me with a sum of
money, as they said, to enable me to live comfortably, till I could find
my way back to my ship. When, also, they heard how gallantly Peter
Pongo had rescued me, they gave him a handsome present. He could
scarcely comprehend his good fortune, and as he looked at the money he
evidently thought himself the owner of boundless wealth. I had the best
of everything at the chief cabin table, and could not help thinking how
pleasant it would be to live the life of a passenger on board an
emigrant ship all the year round. I was therefore very much surprised
to hear some of them grumbling from morning to night, complaining of
having nothing to do, and wishing that the voyage was over. If they had
lived in a midshipman's berth for a few months, I rather suspect that
they would have thought themselves well off. I need not describe our
passage to the Cape; it was a very pleasant one. I was very happy
during the short time I remained at that curious old Dutch place, Cape
Town. I saw the table-mountain and the tablecloth on the top of it, and
then a sloop of war called there, and the commodore, who was there,
ordered me and Peter Pongo a passage back to Sierra Leone. I was never
idle, for I found ample employment in teaching Peter to read, and
wonderful was the progress he made. He was a great favourite on board
the corvette on account of his intelligence and amiable manners, and the
gallant way in which he had preserved my life. On entering the harbour
of Sierra Leone, there, to my great satisfaction, lay our schooner, with
the pennant flying at her masthead, and the British ensign at her peak.
I got a boat from the corvette, and at once pulled on board. I could
see at a glance that the schooner had been turned into a man-of-war.
She had been bought, as I afterwards found, into the service. I was in
plain clothes, and Peter Pongo who accompanied me, was very nicely
dressed, and no one would have recognised him as the little slave boy he
had before appeared. Dickey Snookes looked over the side. I sprang up
the side. "What do you want?" he asked. "To see that very important
personage, Mr Algernon Godolphin Stafford, commonly known as Dickey
Snookes," I answered, taking his hand. He started, and looked at me
very hard, really gasping for breath, so astonished was he. "What! is
it you yourself, Rushforth, my dear fellow?" he exclaimed. "I am indeed
glad. We thought you were lost; gobbled up by a shark, or sunk to the
bottom of the sea. Here, Sommers--here's Rushforth come to life again,
and the black boy too." Sommers, who was below, came on deck, and
received me most cordially. Mr Talbot, who had command of the
schooner, now called the Liberia, was on shore. She was to sail, I
found, the very next day for Rio Janeiro, to act as a tender to our
ship. I consulted with Sommers what would be most to the advantage of
Peter Pongo to do. He strongly advised his going to the college at
Sierra Leone, where he would receive a very good education, and he
undertook to arrange the matter. I had still the greater part of the
money given me by the passengers of the emigrant ship, which I had kept
for the purpose of devoting it to Peter's use. This, with what he had
of his own, would enable him to make a fair start in life. Peter
himself, though very sorry to leave me, was much pleased with the
proposal. That very afternoon he and I accompanied Sommers on shore,
when the whole matter was arranged in a very satisfactory way with some
of the gentlemen connected with the college, who undertook to invest the
sum I have mentioned for Peter's benefit. Peter burst into tears as I
wished him good-bye, and I felt a very curious sensation about the
throat. The next day we sailed for Rio.