The next morning, as there was no particular work on hand, Ready and
Mr. Seagrave took the lines to add to the stock of the fish-pond. As
the weather was fine and cool, William accompanied them, that he might
have the benefit of the fresh air. As they passed the garden, they
observed that the seeds sown had already sprung up an inch or two above
the ground, and that, apparently none of them had missed. While Ready
and Mr. Seagrave were fishing, and William sitting near them, William
said to his father--
"Many of the islands near us are inhabited; are they not, papa?"
"Yes, but not those very near us, I believe. At all events, I never
heard any voyagers mention having seen inhabitants on the isles near
which we suppose the one we are on to be."
"What sort of people are the islanders in these seas?"
"They are various. The New Zealanders are the most advanced in
civilization. The natives of Van Diemen's Land and Australia are some
portions of them of a very degraded class - indeed, little better than
the beasts of the field."
"I have seen them," said Ready; "and I think I can mention a people,
not very numerous indeed, who are still more like the beasts of the
field. I saw them once; and, at first, thought they were animals, and
not human beings."
"Indeed, Ready; where may that be?"
"In the Great Andaman Isles, at the mouth of the Bay of Bengal. I once
anchored in distress in Port Cornwallis, and the morning after we
anchored, we saw some black things going upon all fours under the trees
that came down to the water's edge. We got the telescope, and perceived
then that they were men and women, for they stood upright."
"Did you ever come into contact with them?"
"No, sir, I did not; but I met, at Calcutta, a soldier who had; for at
one time the East India Company intended making a settlement on the
island, and sent some troops there. He said that they caught two of
them; that they were not more than four feet high, excessively stupid
and shy; they had no houses or huts to live in, and all that they did
was to pile up some bushes to keep the wind off."
"Had they any arms?"
"Yes, sir, they had bows and arrows; but so miserably made, and so
small, that they could not kill anything but very small birds."
"Where did the people come from who inhabited these islands, papa?"
"That is difficult to say, William; but it is supposed that they have
become inhabited in much the same way as this our island has been -
that is, by people in canoes or boats driven out to sea, and saving
their lives by effecting a landing, as we have done."
"I believe that's the truth," replied Ready; "I heard say that the
Andaman Isles were supposed to have been first inhabited by a slaver
full of negroes, who were wrecked on the coast in a typhoon."
"What is a typhoon, Ready?"
"It is much the same as a hurricane, William; it comes on in India at
the change of the monsoons."
"But what are monsoons?"
"Winds that blow regular from one quarter so many months during the
year, and then change round and blow from another just as long."
"And what are the trade-winds, which I heard poor Captain Osborn
talking about after we left Madeira?"
"The trade-winds blow on the equator, and several degrees north and
south of it, from the east to the west, following the course of the
sun."
"Is it the sun which produces these winds?"
"Yes, the extreme heat of the sun between the tropics rarefies the air
as the earth turns round, and the trade-winds are produced by the
rushing in of the less heated air."
"Yes, William; and the trade-winds produce what they call the Gulf
Stream," observed Ready.
"How is that? I have heard it spoken of, papa."
"The winds, constantly following the sun across the Atlantic Ocean, and
blowing from east to west, have great effect upon the sea, which is
forced up into the Gulf of Mexico (where it is stopped by the shores of
America), so that it is many feet higher in the Gulf than in the
eastern part of the Atlantic. This accumulation of water must of course
find a vent somewhere, and it does in what is called the Gulf Stream,
by which the waters are poured out, running very strong to the
northward, along the shores of America, and then eastward, passing not
far from Newfoundland, until its strength is spent somewhere to the
northward of the Azores."
"The Gulf Stream, William," said Ready, "is always several degrees
warmer than the sea in general, which is, they say, owing to its waters
remaining in the Gulf of Mexico so long, where the heat of the sun is
so great."
"What do you mean by the land and sea breezes in the West Indies, and
other hot climates, papa?"
"It is the wind first blowing off from the shore, and then blowing from
the sea towards the shore, during certain hours of the day, which it
does regularly every twenty-four hours. This is also the effect of the
heat of the sun. The sea breeze commences in the morning, and in the
afternoon it dies away, when the land breeze commences, which lasts
till midnight."
"There are latitudes close to the trade-winds," said Ready, "where the
wind is not certain, where ships have been becalmed for weeks; the
crews have exhausted the water on board, and they have suffered
dreadfully. We call them the Horse latitudes - why, I do not know. But
it is time for us to leave off, and for Master William to go into the
house."
They returned home, and after supper Ready went on with his narrative.
"I left off at the time that I was sent on board of the man-of-war, and
I was put down on the books as a supernumerary boy. I was on board of
her for nearly four years, and we were sent about from port to port,
and from clime to clime, until I grew a strong, tall lad, and was put
into the mizen-top. I found it very comfortable. I did my duty, and the
consequence was, I never was punished; for a man may serve on board of
a man-of-war without fear of being punished, if he only does his duty,
and the duty is not very hard either; not like on board of the merchant
vessels, where there are so few hands - there it is hard work. Of
course, there are some captains who command men-of-war who are harsh
and severe; but it was my good fortune to be with a very mild and
steady captain, who was very sorry when he was obliged to punish the
men, although he would not overlook any improper conduct. The only
thing which was a source of constant unhappiness to me was, that I
could not get to England again, and see my mother. I had written two or
three letters, but never had an answer; and at last I became so
impatient that I determined to run away the very first opportunity
which might offer. We were then stationed in the West Indies, and I had
very often consultations with Hastings on the subject, for he was quite
as anxious to get away as I was; and we had agreed that we would start
off together the very first opportunity. At last we anchored in Port
Royal, Jamaica, and there was a large convoy of West India ships, laden
with sugar, about to sail immediately. We knew that if we could get on
board of one, they would secrete us until the time of sailing, for they
were short-handed enough, the men-of-war having pressed every man they
could lay their hands upon. There was but one chance, and that was by
swimming on board of one of the vessels during the night-time, and that
was easy enough, as they were anchored not a hundred yards from our own
ship. What we were afraid of was the sharks, which were so plentiful in
the harbour. However, the night before the convoy was to sail we made
up our minds that we would run the risk, for we were so impatient to
escape that we did not care for anything. It was in the middle watch -
I recollect it, and shall recollect it all my life, as if it were last
night - that we lowered ourselves down very softly from the bows of the
ship, and as soon as we were in the water we struck out for one of the
West Indiamen close to us. The sentry at the gangway saw the light in
the water made by our swimming through it, and he hailed, of course; we
gave no answer, but swam as fast as we could; for after he had hailed
we heard a bustle, and we knew that the officer of the watch was
manning a boat to send after us. I had just caught hold of the cable of
the West Indiaman, and was about to climb up by it, for I was a few
yards before Hastings, when I heard a loud shriek, and, turning round,
perceived a shark plunging down with Hastings in his jaws. I was so
frightened, that for a short time I could not move: at last I recovered
myself, and began to climb up by the cable as fast as I could. I was
just in time, for another shark made a rush at me; and although I was
clear out of the water more than two feet, he sprung up and just caught
my shoe by the heel, which he took down with him. Fear gave me
strength, and in a second or two afterwards I was up at the
hawse-holes, and the men on board, who had been looking over the bows,
and had witnessed poor Hastings' death, helped me on board, and hurried
me down below, for the boat from our ship was now nearly alongside.
When the officer of the boat came on board, they told him they had
perceived us both in the water, close to their vessel, and that the
sharks had taken us down. As the shriek of Hastings was heard by the
people in the boat, the officer believed that it was the case, and
returned to the ship. I heard the drum beat to quarters on board of the
man-of-war, that they might ascertain who were the two men who had
attempted to swim away, and a few minutes afterwards they beat the
retreat, having put down D. D. against my name on the books, as well as
against that of poor Hastings."
"What does D. D. mean?"
"D. stands for discharged from the service; D. D. stands for dead,"
replied Ready; "and it was only through the mercy of Providence that I
was not so."
"It was a miraculous escape indeed," observed Mr. Seagrave.
"Yes, indeed, sir; I can hardly describe my sensations for some hours
afterwards. I tried to sleep, but could not - I was in agony. The
moment I slumbered, I thought the shark had hold of me, and I would
start up and shriek; and then I said my prayers and tried to go to
sleep again, but it was of no use. The captain of the West Indiaman was
afraid that my shrieks would be heard, and he sent me down a tumbler of
rum to drink off; this composed me, and at last I fell into a sound
sleep. When I awoke, I found that the ship was under weigh and with all
canvas set, surrounded by more than a hundred other vessels; the
men-of-war who took charge of the convoy, firing guns and making
signals incessantly. It was a glorious sight, and we were bound for Old
England. I felt so happy, that I thought I would risk the jaws of
another shark to have regained my liberty, and the chance of being once
more on shore in my own country, and able to go to Newcastle and see my
poor mother."
"I am afraid that your miraculous escape did you very little good,
Ready," observed Mrs. Seagrave, "if you got over it so soon."
"Indeed, madam, it was not so; that was only the feeling which the
first sight of the vessels under weigh for England produced upon me. I
can honestly say that I was a better and more serious person. The very
next night, when I was in my hammock, I prayed very fervently; and
there happened to be a very good old Scotchman on board, the second
mate, who talked very seriously to me, and pointed out how wonderful
had been my preservation, and I felt it. It was he who first read the
Bible with me, and made me understand it, and, I may say, become fond
of it. I did my duty on our passage home as a seaman before the mast,
and the captain was pleased with me. The ship I was in was bound to
Glasgow, and we parted company with the convoy at North Foreland, and
arrived safe in port. The captain took me to the owners, who paid me
fifteen guineas for my services during the voyage home; and as soon as
I received the money, I set off for Newcastle as fast as I could. I had
taken a place on the outside of the coach, and I entered into
conversation with a gentleman who sat next to me. I soon found out that
he belonged to Newcastle, and I first inquired if Mr. Masterman, the
ship-builder, was still alive. He told me that he had been dead about
three months. `And to whom did he leave his money?' I asked, `for he
was very rich, and had no kin.' `He had no relations,' replied the
gentleman, `and he left all his money to build an hospital and
almshouses. He had a partner in his business latterly, and he left the
yard and all the stores to him, I believe, because he did not know whom
to leave it to. There was a lad whom I knew for certain he intended to
have adopted and to have made his heir - a lad of the name of Ready;
but he ran away to sea, and has never been heard of since. It is
supposed that he was lost in a prize, for he was traced so far. Foolish
boy that he was. He might now have been a man of fortune.'
"`Very foolish indeed,' replied I.
"`Yes; but he has harmed more than himself. His poor mother, who doted
upon him, as soon as she heard that he was lost, pined away by degrees,
and--'
"`You don't mean to say that she is dead?' interrupted I, seizing the
gentleman by the arm.
"`Yes,' replied he, looking at me with surprise; `she died last year of
a broken heart.'
"I fell back on the luggage behind me, and should have fallen off the
coach if the gentleman had not held me. He called to the coachman to
pull up the horses, and they took me down, and put me inside; and as
the coach rolled on, I cried as if my heart would break."
Ready appeared so much affected, that Mr. Seagrave proposed that he
should leave off his history for the present.
"Thank you, sir, it will be better; for I feel my old eyes dim with
tears, even now. It's a dreadful thing in after-life to reflect upon,
that your foolish conduct has hastened the death of a most kind mother;
but so it was, William, and I give you the truth for your advantage."