A STRANGE CRAFT
"I tell you a boy who uses his mother bad is sure to suffer for it
some time. I've seen so many cases that I know there's such a law that
governs the whole world. I thank heaven that I never brought a tear to
my mother's eyes."
The speaker was Captain Bergen, who was talking to Fred Sanders while
the two sat together on the proa, near midnight succeeding the
conversation mentioned between Inez and the youth Fred.
The latter might have believed, as he had jocosely remarked, that he
had captured a small party of missionaries, who were making a dead set
at him; but his feelings had been touched in a most tender manner, and
he had done more thinking during the last few hours than in all his
previous life.
The only one on the proa who was on duty was Fred, who held the
steering-oar in place, while the curiously-shaped vessel sped through
the water. The sea was very calm and the wind so slight that they
were in reality going slower than at any previous time, and the task
of guiding the boat was hardly a task at all.
Fred sat looking up at the stars half the time, with his memory and
conscience doing their work. His two men had lain down, and were
asleep, for they were regular in all their habits, and he had seen
nothing of Inez since she had withdrawn to her "apartment."
Mate Storms kept up a fragmentary conversation with the young captain
until quite late, when he withdrew, and Fred was left with himself for
fully two hours, when Mr. Bergen crept softly forth and took a seat
near him, even getting in such a position that he would have been very
much in the way had any emergency arisen. The captain was disposed to
talk--somewhat to Fred's dislike--for he was in that mood when he
desired to be alone; but he was also in a more gracious and charitable
temper than usual, and he answered the old captain quite kindly.
"You've a good deal to be thankful for," said he, in reply to the
remark above given. "But my mother has been in heaven for many a
year."
"She is fortunate, after all," said the captain, with a sigh, and a
far-away look over the moonlit sea.
"Yes, a great deal more fortunate than her son will ever be."
"It all depends on you, young man," said the captain, severely.
"Heaven is reached step by step, and there's no one who cannot make
it. If you haven't started in the right direction, now's the time to
do so."
Fred Sanders may have assented to this, but he was silent, and he,
too, looked off over the sea as if his thoughts were running in a new
and unaccustomed channel. "My mother must be a very old woman by this
time," added the captain, after a minute or more of silence, during
which nothing but the rushing of the water was heard.
"How old is she?" asked Fred.
"She must be close on to eighty; and I think she's dead, for she was
very feeble when I saw her, three years ago, in San Francisco. But I'm
going to see her very soon; yes, very soon--very soon."
"It's a long way to 'Frisco," ventured Fred, mildly; "but I hope you
will have a quick voyage."
"I am not going to wait till we get there."
"How are you going to manage it, then?"
"This way. I'm coming, mother!"
And Captain Jack Bergen sprang overboard and went out of sight.
"Heavens! what was that?" exclaimed Mate Storms, leaping forward from
where he had been dozing upon his couch.
"The captain has jumped overboard!" was the horrified reply of Fred
Sanders, who was bringing the proa around as fast as he could.
Without another word, Mate Storms made a bounding plunge after him,
leaving the young captain to manage the craft as best he could. The
latter uttered a sharp command which brought the crew to their feet in
an instant, and, in an incredibly short space of time, the proa came
around, and, scarcely losing any headway, moved back toward the spot
where the demented man had sprung into the sea, which was now a long
distance astern.
It was a startling awaking for Abram Storms, who did his utmost for
his unfortunate captain. The mate was a splendid swimmer, and,
plunging forward with a powerful stroke, he called to his friend again
and again, frequently lifting himself far out of the water, when on
the crest of a swell, and straining his eyes to pierce the moonlight
about him, hoping to catch sight of the figure of the captain, who was
also a strong swimmer. But if he had jumped overboard with the
intention of suicide, it was not to be supposed he would continue
swimming. The mate, however, was hopeful that in that awful minute
when he went beneath the waters, something like a realizing sense of
what he had done would come to him and he would struggle to save
himself.
But, alas, for poor Captain Jack Bergen, who had journeyed so many
thousand miles, and had endured such a long imprisonment upon a lonely
island! He sent back no answering shout to the repeated calls of his
mate, whose eyes failed to catch sight of his gray head as he rose and
sank for a brief while on the water.
When Fred Sanders got the proa about he guided its movements by
the sound of the mate's voice, and, in a short while, he ran
alongside and assisted him on board. Nothing had been seen nor
heard of the captain, and there could be no doubt now that he was
gone forever. Nevertheless, the proa continued cruising around the
place for fully an hour, in widening circles, until all were convinced
that not a particle of hope remained, when they filled away again,
and a long, last farewell was uttered to Captain Jack Bergen.
He had procured a fortune in a comparatively easy manner, and it
looked for a time as if the payment was small; but the price demanded
now was his life, and what more can a man give, excepting his
soul?--which, most happily, was not the case with him.
During these minutes of excitement, Inez Hawthorne slept soundly, and
she never knew anything of the sad occurrence until the morrow was
well advanced. Her grief prostrated her for many hours, for she was a
child unusually affectionate by nature, and she had been tenderly
attached to the captain, who had been such a father to her.
It spread a gloom over the boat, as may be said, the only ones who
showed no sorrow in their countenances being the dusky islanders, who
seemed to take everything as it came along as a matter of course, and
who obeyed the Caucasian captain like so many machines under the
control of an engineer.
Fred Sanders was thoughtful, and, what was rather curious, had little
to say to Inez during the first portion of the day. He uttered a few
words of sympathy when she sought to restrain her tears, but after
that he kept very much to himself, as if there was some new and
important matter on his mind, as was indeed the case.
It will be remembered that the expectation was that the voyage of the
proa would terminate that night by their arrival at their destination,
but the delay caused by the moderate wind and the search for the lost
captain led Mate Storms to feel some doubt, and he asked Captain
Sanders his view of the matter.
"I can't tell you anything about it!"
It was not these words alone, so much as the abrupt manner, which set
the mate somewhat back. He had received nothing of the kind from the
youth since their meeting, and it astonished him.
A hot reply rose to the lips of Abe Storms, but he suppressed it and
moved away.
"I wonder whether he doesn't feel soured at the thought that the death
of the captain will prevent his getting such a large reward for his
services?" said the mate to himself, who, after thinking over the
matter for a few minutes longer, reached a conclusion. "We expected to
reach Wauparmur Island to-night, before dark. We shall be late, but,
as it is, I shall have no trouble in keeping awake the rest of the
voyage, and I've little fear that I will not be able to protect my
property as well as myself."
With this, he moved back to the youth, and said, in a cheery voice:
"You recall, sir, that poor Captain Bergen made some promises to you
about rewarding you liberally for your services. My friend was a
little wild in what he said, but he was right when he declared we had
the means, and I wish simply to say that his wishes and intentions in
that respect, which accorded with my own from the start, shall be
carried out to the letter."
Mr. Storms immediately joined Inez, while the captain made no reply,
much to the discomfiture of the mate, who said to Inez:
"What's the matter with Sanders?"
"He is watching an object over the sea yonder. He has been expecting
to discover something, and he has caught sight of it at last."
The mate instantly produced his glasses, and leveled them in the
direction the young captain was looking.
There was something, indeed.
As revealed by the instrument, it was what might be termed a double
canoe, or proa--that is, two narrow canoes were joined together, side
by side, and connected by a sort of framework, while an enormous
lateen sail towered above them, and carried it forward with remarkable
speed.
The surprised mate carefully scrutinized the strange craft, and saw
that it contained a large crew, there being, as he estimated, fully
twenty men on board. It was to the westward of the smaller proa, and
like that was pursuing almost a northerly course, though the
experienced eyes of the sailor told him that the paths of the two were
converging, and that, unless changed, they undoubtedly would meet
before nightfall.
The double canoe was about two miles distant, and as it rose on the
crest of a swell the glass revealed the white foam which curled away
from the bows, and there could be no doubt of its remarkable
swiftness.
After watching this strange craft for a few minutes, Mr. Storms
devoted some time to a furtive but careful study of the face of Fred
Sanders, who was on the most elevated portion of the proa, and was
carefully noting the course of the two vessels.
The alarming conclusion reached by Abram Storms was that the other
craft contained a gang of pirates; that Fred Sanders knew them, and he
was guiding his own proa by an understanding previously had with
them.
And Abram Storms was right.