Dick Sands the Boy Captain by Jules Verne
[Redactor's Note: _Dick Sands the Boy Captain_ (Number V018 in the T&M
numerical listing of Verne's works) is a translation of _Un capitaine
de quinze ans_ (1878) by Ellen E. Frewer who also translated other
Verne works. The current translation was published by Sampson & Low in
England (1878) and Scribners in New York (1879) and was republished
many times and included in Volume 8 of the Parke edition of _The Works
of Jules Verne_ (1911). There is another translation published by
George Munro (1878) in New York with the title _Dick Sand A Captain at
Fifteen_.
This work has an almost mechanical repetiveness in the continuing
description of the day after day trials of sailing at sea. Thus the
illustrations, of which there were 94 in the french edition, are all
the more important in keeping up the reader's interest. The titles of
the illustrations are given here as a prelude to a future fully
illustrated edition.]
*****
DICK SANDS
THE BOY CAPTAIN.
BY
JULES VERNE.
TRANSLATED BY
ELLEN E. FREWER
ILLUSTRATED
1879
*****
CONTENTS.
PART THE FIRST
I. THE "PILGRIM"
II. THE APPRENTICE
III. A RESCUE
IV. THE SURVIVORS OF THE "WALDECK"
V. DINGO'S SAGACITY
VI. A WHALE IN SIGHT
VII. PREPARATIONS FOR AN ATTACK
VIII. A CATASTROPHE
IX. DICK'S PROMOTION
X. THE NEW CREW
XI. ROUGH WEATHER
XII. LAND AT LAST
XIV. ASHORE
XV. A STRANGER
XVI. THROUGH THE FOREST
XVII. MISGIVINGS
XVIII. A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY
PART THE SECOND
I. THE DARK CONTINENT
II. ACCOMPLICES
III. ON THE MARCH AGAIN
IV. ROUGH TRAVELLING
V. WHITE ANTS
VI. A DIVING-BELL
VII. A SLAVE CARAVAN
VIII. NOTES BY THE WAY
IX. KAZONDÉ
X. MARKET-DAY
XI. A BOWL OF PUNCH
XII. ROYAL OBSEQUIES
XIII. IN CAPTIVITY
XIV. A RAY OF HOPE
XV. AN EXCITING CHASE
XVI. A MAGICIAN
XVII. DRIFTING DOWN THE STREAM
XVIII. AN ANXIOUS VOYAGE
XIX. AN ATTACK
XX. A HAPPY REUNION
*****
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Number Title
I-01-a Cousin Benedict
I-01-b Captain Hull advanced to meet Mrs. Weldon and her party
I-02-a Negoro
I-02-b Dick and Little Jack
I-03-a Negoro had approached without being noticed by any one
I-03-b The dog began to swim slowly and with manifest weakness
towards the boat
I-04-a Mrs. Weldon assisted by Nan and the ever active Dick Sands,
was doing everything in her power to restore consciousness
to the poor sufferers
I-04-b The good-natured negroes were ever ready to lend a helping
hand
I-05-a "There you are, then, Master Jack!"
I-05-b Jack cried out in the greatest excitement that Dingo knew
how to read
I-05-c Negoro, with a threatening gesture that seemed half
involuntary, withdrew immediately to his accustomed quarters
I-06-a "This Dingo is nothing out of the way"
I-06-b Occasionally Dick Sands would take a pistol, and now and
then a rifle
I-06-c "What a big fellow!"
I-07-a The captain's voice came from the retreating boat
I-07-b "I must get you to keep your eye upon that man"
I-08-a The whale seemed utterly unconscious of the attack that was
threatening it
I-08-b The boat was well-nigh full of water, and in imminent danger
of being capsized
I-08-c There is no hope
I-09-a "Oh, we shall soon be on shore!"
I-09-b "Oh yes, Jack; you shall keep the wind in order"
I-10-a All three of them fell flat upon the deck
I-10-b Jack evidenced his satisfaction by giving his huge friend a
hearty shake of the hand
I-10-c A light shadow glided stealthily along the deck
I-11-a For half an hour Negoro stood motionless
I-12-a Under bare poles
I-12-b Quick as lightning, Dick Sands drew a revolver from his pocket
I-12-c "There! look there!"
I-13-a "You have acquitted yourself like a man"
I-13-b They both examined the outspread chart
I-13-c The sea was furious, and dashed vehemently upon the crags
on either hand
I-14-a Surveying the shore with the air of a man who was trying to
recall some past experience
I-14-b Not without emotion could Mrs. Weldon, or indeed any of
them, behold the unfortunate ship
I-14-c The entomologist was seen making his way down the face of
the cliff at the imminent lisk of breaking his neck
I-15-a "Good morning, my young friend"
I-15-b "He is my little son"
I-15-c They came to a tree to which a horse was tethered
I-16-a The way across the forest could scarcely be called a path
I-16-b Occasionally the soil became marshy
I-16-c A halt for the night
I-16-d Hercules himself was the first to keep watch
I-17-a "Don't fire!"
I-17-b A herd of gazelles dashed past him like a glowing cloud
I-17-c A halt was made for the night beneath a grove of lofty trees
I-18-a "Look here! here are hands, men's hands"
I-18-b The man was gone, and his horse with him!
II-02-a They were seated at the foot of an enormous banyan-tree
II-02-b Both men, starting to their feet, looked anxiously around
them
II-02-c Dingo disappeared again amongst the bushes
II-03-a "You must keep this a secret"
II-03-b "Harris has left us"
II-03-c The march was continued with as much rapidity as was
consistent with caution
II-04-a It was a scene only too common in Central Africa
II-04-b Another brilliant flash brought the camp once again into
relief
II-04-c One after another, the whole party made their way inside
II-05-a Cousin Benedict's curiosity was awakened
II-05-b The naturalist now fairly mounted on a favourite hobby
II-05-c "My poor boy, I know everything"
II-06-a They set to work to ascertain what progress the water was
making
II-06-b All fired simultaneously at the nearest boat
II-06-c The giant clave their skulls with the butt end of his gun
II-07-a The start was made
II-08-a If ever the havildar strolled a few yards away, Bat took
the opportunity of murmuring a few words of encouragement
to his poor old father
II-08-b The caravan had been attacked on the flank by a dozen or
more crocodiles
II-08-c The creature that had sprung to my feet was Dingo
II-08-d More slaves sick, and abandoned to take their chance
II-09-a Adjoining the commercial quarter was the royal residence
II-09-b With a yell and a curse, the American fell dead at his feet
II-10-a Accompanied by Coïmbra, Alvez himself was one of the first
arrivals
II-11-a The potentate beneath whose sway the country trembled for a
hundred miles round
II-11-b Alvez advanced and presented the king with some fresh tobacco
II-11-c The king had taken fire internally
II-12-a "Your life is in my hands!"
II-12-b All his energies were restored
II-13-a Friendless and hopeless He contented himself with the
permission to go where he pleased within the limits of the
palisade
II-13-b "I suppose Weldon will not mind coming to fetch you?"
II-14-a Dr. Livingstone
II-14-b With none to guide him except a few natives
II-14-c "You are Dr. Livingstone, I presume?"
II-15-a The insufferable heat had driven all the residents within
the depôt indoors
II-15-b Before long the old black speck was again flitting just
above his head
II-15-c For that day at least Cousin Benedict had lost his chance
of being the happiest of entomologists
II-16-a The entire crowd joined in
II-16-b "Here they are, captain! both of them!!"
II-17-a Hercules could leave the boat without much fear of detection
II-17-b It was caused by a troop of a hundred or more elephants
II-18-a He stood face to face with his foe
II-18-b Instantly five or six negroes scrambled down the piles
II-19-a Upon the smooth wood were two great letters in dingy red
II-19-b The dog was griping the man by the throat
II-19-c The bullet shattered the rudder-scull into fragments
*****
CHAPTER I.
THE "PILGRIM."
On the 2nd of February, 1873, the "Pilgrim," a tight little craft of
400 tons burden, lay in lat. 43° 57', S. and long. 165° 19', W. She was
a schooner, the property of James W. Weldon, a wealthy Californian
ship-owner who had fitted her out at San Francisco, expressly for the
whale-fisheries in the southern seas.
James Weldon was accustomed every season to send his whalers both to
the Arctic regions beyond Behring Straits, and to the Antarctic Ocean
below Tasmania and Cape Horn; and the "Pilgrim," although one of the
smallest, was one of the best-going vessels of its class; her
sailing-powers were splendid, and her rigging was so adroitly adapted
that with a very small crew she might venture without risk within sight
of the impenetrable ice-fields of the southern hemisphere: under
skilful guidance she could dauntlessly thread her way amongst the
drifting ice-bergs that, lessened though they were by perpetual shocks
and undermined by warm currents, made their way northwards as far as
the parallel of New Zealand or the Cape of Good Hope, to a latitude
corresponding to which in the northern hemisphere they are never seen,
having already melted away in the depths of the Atlantic and Pacific
Oceans.
For several years the command of the "Pilgrim" had been entrusted to
Captain Hull, an experienced seaman, and one of the most dexterous
harpooners in Weldon's service. The crew consisted of five sailors and
an apprentice. This number, of course, was quite insufficient for the
process of whale-fishing, which requires a large contingent both for
manning the whale-boats and for cutting up the whales after they are
captured; but Weldon, following the example of other owners, found it
more economical to embark at San Francisco only just enough men to work
the ship to New Zealand, where, from the promiscuous gathering of
seamen of well-nigh every nationality, and of needy emigrants, the
captain had no difficulty in engaging as many whalemen as he wanted for
the season. This method of hiring men who could be at once discharged
when their services were no longer required had proved altogether to be
the most profitable and convenient.
The "Pilgrim" had now just completed her annual voyage to the Antarctic
circle. It was not, however, with her proper quota of oil-barrels full
to the brim, nor yet with an ample cargo of cut and uncut whalebone,
that she was thus far on her way back. The time, indeed, for a good
haul was past; the repeated and vigourous attacks upon the cetaceans
had made them very scarce; the whale known as "the Right whale," the
"Nord-kapper" of the northern fisheries, the "Sulpher-boltone" of the
southern, was hardly ever to be seen; and latterly the whalers had had
no alternative but to direct their efforts against the Finback or
Jubarte, a gigantic mammal, encounter with which is always attended
with considerable danger.
So scanty this year had been the supply of whales that Captain Hull had
resolved next year to push his way into far more southern latitudes;
even, if necessary, to advance to the regions known as Clarie and
Adélie Lands, of which the discovery, though claimed by the American
navigator Wilkes, belongs by right to the illustrious Frenchman Dumont
d'Urville, the commander of the "Astrolabe" and the "Zélee."
The season had been exceptionally unfortunate for the "Pilgrim." At the
beginning of January, almost in the height of the southern summer, long
before the ordinary time for the whalers' return, Captain Hull had been
obliged to abandon his fishing-quarters. His hired contingent, all men
of more than doubtful character, had given signs of such
insubordination as threatened to end in mutiny; and he had become aware
that he must part company with them on the earliest possible
opportunity. Accordingly, without delay, the bow of the "Pilgrim" was
directed to the northwest, towards New Zealand, which was sighted on
the 15th of January, and on reaching Waitemata, the port of Auckland,
in the Hauraki Gulf, on the east coast of North Island, the whole of
the gang was peremptorily discharged.
The ship's crew were more than dissatisfied. They were angry. Never
before had they returned with so meagre a haul. They ought to have had
at least two hundred barrels more. The captain himself experienced all
the mortification of an ardent sportsman who for the first time in his
life brings home a half-empty bag; and there was a general spirit of
animosity against the rascals whose rebellion had so entirely marred
the success of the expedition.
Captain Hull did everything in his power to repair the disappointment;
he made every effort to engage a fresh gang; but it was too late; every
available seaman had long since been carried off to the fisheries.
Finding therefore that all hope of making good the deficiency in his
cargo must be resigned, he was on the point of leaving Auckland, alone
with his crew, when he was met by a request with which he felt himself
bound to comply.
It had chanced that James Weldon, on one of those journeys which were
necessitated by the nature of his business, had brought with him his
wife, his son Jack, a child of five years of age, and a relation of the
family who was generally known by the name of Cousin Benedict. Weldon
had of course intended that his family should accompany him on his
return home to San Francisco; but little Jack was taken so seriously
ill, that his father, whose affairs demanded his immediate return, was
obliged to leave him behind at Auckland with his wife and Cousin
Benedict.
Three months had passed away, little Jack was convalescent, and Mrs.
Weldon, weary of her long separation from her husband, was anxious to
get home as soon as possible. Her readiest way of reaching San
Francisco was to cross to Australia, and thence to take a passage in
one of the vessels of the "Golden Age" Company, which run between
Melbourne and the Isthmus of Panama: on arriving in Panama she would
have to wait the departure of the next American steamer of the line
which maintains a regular communication between the Isthmus and
California. This route, however, involved many stoppages and changes,
such as are always disagreeable and inconvenient for women and
children, and Mrs. Weldon was hesitating whether she should encounter
the journey, when she heard that her husband's vessel, the "Pilgrim,"
had arrived at Auckland. Hastening to Captain Hull, she begged him to
take her with her little boy, Cousin Benedict, and Nan, an old negress
who had been her attendant from her childhood, on board the "Pilgrim,"
and to convey them to San Francisco direct.
"Was it not over hazardous," asked the captain, "to venture upon a
voyage of between 5000 and 6000 miles in so small a sailing-vessel?"
But Mrs. Weldon urged her request, and Captain Hull, confident in the
sea-going qualities of his craft, and anticipating at this season
nothing but fair weather on either side of the equator, gave his
consent.
In order to provide as far as possible for the comfort of the lady
during a voyage that must occupy from forty to fifty days, the captain
placed his own cabin at her entire disposal.
Everything promised well for a prosperous voyage. The only hindrance
that could be foreseen arose from the circumstance that the "Pilgrim"
would have to put in at Valparaiso for the purpose of unlading; but
that business once accomplished, she would continue her way along the
American coast with the assistance of the land breezes, which
ordinarily make the proximity of those shores such agreeable quarters
for sailing.
Mrs. Weldon herself had accompanied her husband in so many voyages,
that she was quite inured to all the makeshifts of a seafaring life,
and was conscious of no misgiving in embarking upon a vessel of such
small tonnage. She was a brave, high-spirited woman of about thirty
years of age, in the enjoyment of excellent health, and for her the sea
had no terrors. Aware that Captain Hull was an experienced man, in whom
her husband had the utmost confidence, and knowing that his ship was a
substantial craft, registered as one of the best of the American
whalers, so far from entertaining any mistrust as to her safety, she
only rejoiced in the opportuneness of the chance which seemed to offer
her a direct and unbroken route to her destination.
Cousin Benedict, as a matter of course, was to accompany her. He was
about fifty; but in spite of his mature age it would have been
considered the height of imprudence to allow him to travel anywhere
alone. Spare, lanky, with a bony frame, with an enormous cranium, and a
profusion of hair, he was one of those amiable, inoffensive _savants_
who, having once taken to gold spectacles, appear to have arrived at a
settled standard of age, and, however long they live afterwards, seem
never to be older than they have ever been.
Claiming a sort of kindredship with all the world, he was universally
known, far beyond the pale of his own connexions, by the name of
"Cousin Benedict." In the ordinary concerns of life nothing would ever
have rendered him capable of shifting for himself; of his meals he
would never think until they were placed before him; he had the
appearance of being utterly insensible to heat or cold; he vegetated
rather than lived, and might not inaptly be compared to a tree which,
though healthy enough at its core, produces scant foliage and no fruit.
His long arms and legs were in the way of himself and everybody else;
yet no one could possibly treat him with unkindness. As M. Prudhomme
would say, "if only he had been endowed with capability," he would have
rendered a service to any one in the world; but helplessness was his
dominant characteristic; helplessness was ingrained into his very
nature; yet this very helplessness made him an object of kind
consideration rather than of contempt, and Mrs. Weldon looked upon him
as a kind of elder brother to her little Jack.
It must not be supposed, however, that Cousin Benedict was either idle
or unoccupied. On the contrary, his whole time was devoted to one
absorbing passion for natural history. Not that he had any large claim
to be regarded properly as a natural historian; he had made no
excursions over the whole four districts of zoology, botany,
mineralogy, and geology, into which the realms of natural history are
commonly divided; indeed, he had no pretensions at all to be either a
botanist, a mineralogist, or a geologist; his studies only sufficed to
make him a zoologist, and that in a very limited sense. No Cuvier was
he; he did not aspire to decompose animal life by analysis, and to
recompose it by synthesis; his enthusiasm had not made him at all
deeply versed in vertebrata, mollusca, or radiata; in fact, the
vertebrata--animals, birds, reptiles, fishes--had had no place in his
researches; the mollusca--from the cephalopoda to the bryozia--had had
no attractions for him; nor had he consumed the midnight oil in
investigating the radiata, the echmodermata, acalephæ, polypi, entozoa,
or infusoria.
No; Cousin Benedict's interest began and ended with the articulata; and
it must be owned at once that his studies were very far from embracing
all the range of the six classes into which "articulata" are
subdivided; viz, the insecta, the mynapoda, the arachnida, the
crustacea, the cinhopoda, and the anelides; and he was utterly unable
in scientific language to distinguish a worm from a leech, an earwig
from a sea-acorn, a spider from a scorpion, a shrimp from a
frog-hopper, or a galley-worm from a centipede.
To confess the plain truth, Cousin Benedict was an amateur
entomologist, and nothing more.
Entomology, it may be asserted, is a wide science; it embraces the
whole division of the articulata; but our friend was an entomologist
only in the limited sense of the popular acceptation of the word; that
is to say, he was an observer and collector of insects, meaning by
"insects" those articulata which have bodies consisting of a number of
concentric movable rings, forming three distinct segments, each with a
pair of legs, and which are scientifically designated as hexapods.
[Illustration: Cousin Benedict]
To this extent was Cousin Benedict an entomologist; and when it is
remembered that the class of insecta of which he had grown up to be the
enthusiastic student comprises no less than ten[1] orders, and that of
these ten the coleoptera and diptera alone include 30,000 and 60,000
species respectively, it must be confessed that he had an ample field
for his most persevering exertions.
[Footnote 1: These ten orders are (1) the orthoptera, _e.g._
grasshoppers and crickets; (2) the neuroptera, _e.g._ dragon-flies; (3)
the hymenoptera, _e.g._ bees, wasps, and ants; (4) the lepidoptera,
_e.g._ butterflies and moths; (5) the hemiptera, _e.g._ cicadas and
fleas; (6) the coleoptera, _e.g._ cockchafers and glow-worms; (7) the
diptera, _e.g._ gnats and flies; (8) the rhipiptera, _e.g._ the
stylops; (9) the parasites, _e.g._ the acarus; and (10) the thysanura,
_e.g._ the lepisma and podura.]
Every available hour did he spend in the pursuit of his favourite
science: hexapods ruled his thoughts by day and his dreams by night.
The number of pins that he carried thick on the collar and sleeves of
his coat, down the front of his waistcoat, and on the crown of his hat,
defied computation; they were kept in readiness for the capture of
specimens that might come in his way, and on his return from a ramble
in the country he might be seen literally encased with a covering of
insects, transfixed adroitly by scientific rule.
This ruling passion of his had been the inducement that had urged him
to accompany Mr. and Mrs. Weldon to New Zealand. It had appeared to him
that it was likely to be a promising district, and now having been
successful in adding some rare specimens to his collection, he was
anxious to get back again to San Francisco, and to assign them their
proper places in his extensive cabinet.
Besides, it never occurred to Mrs. Weldon to start without him. To
leave him to shift for himself would be sheer cruelty. As a matter of
course whenever Mrs. Weldon went on board the "Pilgrim," Cousin
Benedict would go too.
Not that in any emergency assistance of any kind could be expected from
him; on the contrary, in the case of difficulty he would be an
additional burden; but there was every reason to expect a fair passage
and no cause of misgiving of any kind, so the propriety of leaving the
amiable entomologist behind was never suggested.
Anxious that she should be no impediment in the way of the due
departure of the "Pilgrim" from Waitemata, Mrs. Weldon made her
preparations with the utmost haste, discharged the servants which she
had temporarily engaged at Auckland, and accompanied by little Jack and
the old negress, and followed mechanically by Cousin Benedict, embarked
on the 22nd of January on board the schooner.
The amateur, however, kept his eye very scrupulously upon his own
special box. Amongst his collection of insects were some very
remarkable examples of new staphylins, a species of carnivorous
coleoptera with eyes placed above their head; it was a kind supposed to
be peculiar to New Caledonia. Another rarity which had been brought
under his notice was a venomous spider, known among the Maoris as a
"katipo;" its bite was asserted to be very often fatal. As a spider,
however, belongs to the order of the arachnida, and is not properly an
"insect," Benedict declined to take any interest in it. Enough for him
that he had secured a novelty in his own section of research; the
"Staphylin Neo-Zelandus" was not only the gem of his collection, but
its pecuniary value baffled ordinary estimate; he insured his box at a
fabulous sum, deeming it to be worth far more than all the cargo of oil
and whalebone in the "Pilgrim's" hold.
Captain Hull advanced to meet Mrs. Weldon and her party as they stepped
on deck.
"It must be understood, Mrs. Weldon," he said, courteously raising his
hat, "that you take this passage entirely on your own responsibility."
"Certainly, Captain Hull," she answered; "but why do you ask?"
"Simply because I have received no orders from Mr. Weldon," replied the
captain.
[Illustration: Captain Hull advanced to meet Mrs. Weldon and her party.]
"But my wish exonerates you," said Mrs. Weldon.
"Besides," added Captain Hull, "I am unable to provide you with the
accommodation and the comfort that you would have upon a passenger
steamer."
"You know well enough, captain," remonstrated the lady "that my husband
would not hesitate for a moment to trust his wife and child on board
the 'Pilgrim.'"
"Trust, madam! No! no more than I should myself. I repeat that the
'Pilgrim' cannot afford you the comfort to which you are accustomed."
Mrs. Weldon smiled.
"Oh, I am not one of your grumbling travellers. I shall have no
complaints to make either of small cramped cabins, or of rough and
meagre food."
She took her son by the hand, and passing on, begged that they might
start forthwith.
Orders accordingly were given; sails were trimmed; and after taking the
shortest course across the gulf, the "Pilgrim" turned her head towards
America.
Three days later strong easterly breezes compelled the schooner to tack
to larboard in order to get to windward. The consequence was that by
the 2nd of February the captain found himself in such a latitude that
he might almost be suspected of intending to round Cape Horn rather
than of having a design to coast the western shores of the New
Continent.
Still, the sea did not become rough. There was a slight delay, but, on
the whole, navigation was perfectly easy.
CHAPTER II.
THE APPRENTICE.
There was no poop upon the "Pilgrim's" deck, so that Mrs. Weldon had no
alternative than to acquiesce in the captain's proposal that she should
occupy his own modest cabin.
Accordingly, here she was installed with Jack and old Nan; and here she
took all her meals, in company with the captain and Cousin Benedict.
For Cousin Benedict tolerably comfortable sleeping accommodation had
been contrived close at hand, while Captain Hull himself retired to the
crew's quarter, occupying the cabin which properly belonged to the
chief mate, but as already indicated, the services of a second officer
were quite dispensed with.
All the crew were civil and attentive to the wife of their employer, a
master to whom they were faithfully attached. They were all natives of
the coast of California, brave and experienced seamen, and united by
tastes and habits in a common bond of sympathy. Few as they were in
number, their work was never shirked, not simply from the sense of
duty, but because they were directly interested in the profits of their
undertaking; the success of their labours always told to their own
advantage. The present expedition was the fourth that they had taken
together; and, as it turned out to be the first in which they had
failed to meet with success, it may be imagined that they were full of
resentment against the mutinous whalemen who had been the cause of so
serious a diminution of their ordinary gains.
[Illustration: Negoro.]
The only one on board who was not an American was a man who had been
temporarily engaged as cook. His name was Negoro; he was a Portuguese
by birth, but spoke English with perfect fluency. The previous cook had
deserted the ship at Auckland, and when Negoro, who was out of
employment, applied for the place, Captain Hull, only too glad to avoid
detention, engaged him at once without inquiry into his antecedents.
There was not the slightest fault to be found with the way in which the
cook performed his duties, but there was something in his manner, or
perhaps, rather in the expression of his countenance, which excited the
Captain's misgivings, and made him regret that he had not taken more
pains to investigate the character of one with whom he was now brought
into such close contact.
Negoro looked about forty years of age. Although he had the appearance
of being slightly built, he was muscular; he was of middle height, and
seemed to have a robust constitution; his hair was dark, his complexion
somewhat swarthy. His manner was taciturn, and although, from
occasional remarks that he dropped, it was evident that he had received
some education, he was very reserved on the subjects both of his family
and of his past life. No one knew where he had come from, and he
admitted no one to his confidence as to where he was going, except that
he made no secret of his intention to land at Valparaiso. His freedom
from sea-sickness demonstrated that this could hardly be his first
voyage, but on the other hand his complete ignorance of seamen's
phraseology made it certain that he had never been accustomed to his
present occupation. He kept himself aloof as much as possible from the
rest of the crew, during the day rarely leaving the great cast-iron
stove, which was out of proportion to the measurement of the cramped
little kitchen; and at night, as soon as the fire was extinguished,
took the earliest opportunity of retiring to his berth and going to
sleep.
It has been already stated that the crew of the "Pilgrim" consisted of
five seamen and an apprentice. This apprentice was Dick Sands.
Dick was fifteen years old; he was a foundling, his unknown parents
having abandoned him at his birth, and he had been brought up in a
public charitable institution. He had been called Dick, after the
benevolent passer-by who had discovered him when he was but an infant a
few hours old, and he had received the surname of Sands as a memorial
of the spot where he had been exposed, Sandy Hook, a point at the mouth
of the Hudson, where it forms an entrance to the harbour of New York.
As Dick was so young it was most likely he would yet grow a little
taller, but it did not seem probable that he would ever exceed middle
height, he looked too stoutly and strongly built to grow much. His
complexion was dark, but his beaming blue eyes attested, with scarcely
room for doubt, his Anglo-Saxon origin, and his countenance betokened
energy and intelligence. The profession that he had adopted seemed to
have equipped him betimes for fighting the battle of life.
Misquoted often as Virgil's are the words
"Audaces fortuna juvat!"
but the true reading is
"Audentes fortuna juvat!"
and, slight as the difference may seem, it is very significant. It is
upon the confident rather than the rash, the daring rather than the
bold, that Fortune sheds her smiles; the bold man often acts without
thinking, whilst the daring always thinks before he acts.
And Dick Sands was truly courageous; he was one of the daring. At
fifteen years old, an age at which few boys have laid aside the
frivolities of childhood, he had acquired the stability of a man, and
the most casual observer could scarcely fail to be attracted by his
bright, yet thoughtful countenance. At an early period of his life he
had realized all the difficulties of his position, and had made a
resolution, from which nothing tempted him to flinch, that he would
carve out for himself an honourable and independent career. Lithe and
agile in his movements, he was an adept in every kind of athletic
exercise; and so marvellous was his success in everything he undertook,
that he might almost be supposed to be one of those gifted mortals who
have two right hands and two left feet.
Until he was four years old the little orphan had found a home in one
of those institutions in America where forsaken children are sure of an
asylum, and he was subsequently sent to an industrial school supported
by charitable aid, where he learnt reading, writing, and arithmetic.
From the days of infancy he had never deviated from the expression of
his wish to be a sailor, and accordingly, as soon as he was eight, he
was placed as cabin-boy on board one of the ships that navigate the
Southern Seas. The officers all took a peculiar interest in him, and he
received, in consequence, a thoroughly good grounding in the duties and
discipline of a seaman's life. There was no room to doubt that he must
ultimately rise to eminence in his profession, for when a child from
the very first has been trained in the knowledge that he must gain his
bread by the sweat of his brow, it is comparatively rare that he lacks
the will to do so.
Whilst he was still acting as cabin-boy on one of those
trading-vessels, Dick attracted the notice of Captain Hull, who took a
fancy to the lad and introduced him to his employer. Mr. Weldon at once
took a lively interest in Dick's welfare, and had his education
continued in San Francisco, taking care that he was instructed in the
doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, to which his own family
belonged.
Throughout his studies Dick Sands' favourite subjects were always those
which had a reference to his future profession; he mastered the details
of the geography of the world; he applied himself diligently to such
branches of mathematics as were necessary for the science of
navigation; whilst for recreation in his hours of leisure, he would
greedily devour every book of adventure in travel that came in his way.
Nor did he omit duly to combine the practical with the theoretical; and
when he was bound apprentice on board the "Pilgrim," a vessel not only
belonging to his benefactor, but under the command of his kind friend
Captain Hull, he congratulated himself most heartily, and felt that the
experience he should gain in the southern whale-fisheries could hardly
fail to be of service to him in after-life. A first-rate sailor ought
to be a first-rate fisherman too.
It was a matter of the greatest pleasure to Dick Sands when he heard to
his surprise that Mrs. Weldon was about to become a passenger on board
the "Pilgrim." His devotion to the family of his benefactor was large
and genuine. For several years Mrs. Weldon had acted towards him little
short of a mother's part, and for Jack, although he never forgot the
difference in their position, he entertained well-nigh a brother's
affection. His friends had the satisfaction of being assured that they
had sown the seeds of kindness on a generous soil, for there was no
room to doubt that the heart of the orphan boy was overflowing with
sincere gratitude. Should the occasion arise, ought he not, he asked,
to be ready to sacrifice everything in behalf of those to whom he was
indebted not only for his start in life, but for the knowledge of all
that was right and holy?
Confiding in the good principles of her protégé, Mrs. Weldon had no
hesitation in entrusting her little son to his especial charge. During
the frequent periods of leisure, when the sea was fair, and the sails
required no shifting, the apprentice was never weary of amusing Jack by
making him familiar with the practice of a sailor's craft; he made him
scramble up the shrouds, perch upon the yards, and slip down the
back-stays; and the mother had no alarm; her assurance of Dick Sands'
ability and watchfulness to protect her boy was so complete that she
could only rejoice in an occupation for him that seemed more than
anything to restore the colour he had lost in his recent illness.
Time passed on without incident; and had it not been for the constant
prevalence of an adverse wind, neither passengers nor crew could have
found the least cause of complaint. The pertinacity, however, with
which the wind kept to the east could not do otherwise than make
Captain Hull somewhat concerned; it absolutely prevented him from
getting his ship into her proper course, and he could not altogether
suppress his misgiving that the calms near the Tropic of Capricorn, and
the equatorial current driving him on westwards, would entail a delay
that might be serious.
[Illustration: Dick and little Jack.]
It was principally on Mrs. Weldon's account that the Captain began to
feel uneasiness, and he made up his mind that if he could hail a vessel
proceeding to America he should advise his passengers to embark on her;
unfortunately, however, he felt that they were still in a latitude far
too much to the south to make it likely that they should sight a
steamer going to Panama; and at that date, communication between
Australia and the New World was much less frequent than it has since
become.
Still, nothing occurred to interrupt the general monotony of the voyage
until the 2nd of February, the date at which our narrative commences.
It was about nine o'clock in the morning of that day that Dick and
little Jack had perched themselves together on the top-mast-yards. The
weather was very clear, and they could see the horizon right round
except the section behind them, hidden by the brigantine-sail on the
main-mast. Below them, the bowsprit seemed to lie along the water with
its stay-sails attached like three unequal wings; from the lads' feet
to the deck was the smooth surface of the fore-mast; and above their
heads nothing but the small top-sail and the top-mast. The schooner was
running on the larboard tack as close to the wind as possible.
Dick Sand was pointing out to Jack how well the ship was ballasted, and
was trying to explain how it was impossible for her to capsize, however
much she heeled to starboard, when suddenly the little fellow cried
out,--
"I can see something in the water!"
"Where? what?" exclaimed Dick, clambering to his feet upon the yard.
"There!" said the child, directing attention to the portion of the
sea-surface that was visible between the stay-sails.
Dick fixed his gaze intently for a moment, and then shouted out
lustily,--
"Look out in front, to starboard! There is something afloat. To
windward, look out!"
CHAPTER III.
A RESCUE.
At the sound of Dick's voice all the crew, in a moment, were upon the
alert. The men who were not on watch rushed to the deck, and Captain
Hull hurried from his cabin to the bows. Mrs. Weldon, Nan, and even
Cousin Benedict leaned over the starboard taffrails, eager to get a
glimpse of what had thus suddenly attracted the attention of the young
apprentice. With his usual indifference, Negoro did not leave his
cabin, and was the only person on board who did not share the general
excitement.
Speculations were soon rife as to what could be the nature of the
floating object which could be discerned about three miles ahead.
Suggestions of various character were freely made. One of the sailors
declared that it looked to him only like an abandoned raft, but Mrs.
Weldon observed quickly that if it were a raft it might be carrying
some unfortunate shipwrecked men who must be rescued if possible.
Cousin Benedict asserted that it was nothing more nor less than a huge
sea-monster; but the captain soon arrived at the conviction that it was
the hull of a vessel that had heeled over on to its side, an opinion
with which Dick thoroughly coincided, and went so far as to say that he
believed he could make out the copper keel glittering in the sun.
"Luff, Bolton, luff!" shouted Captain Hull to the helmsman; "we will at
any rate lose no time in getting alongside."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered the helmsman, and the "Pilgrim" in an instant
was steered according to orders.
In spite, however, of the convictions of the captain and Dick, Cousin
Benedict would not be moved from his opinion that the object of their
curiosity was some huge cetacean.
"It is certainly dead, then," remarked Mrs. Weldon; "it is perfectly
motionless."
"Oh, that's because it is asleep," said Benedict, who, although he
would have willingly given up all the whales in the ocean for one rare
specimen of an insect, yet could not surrender his own belief.
"Easy, Bolton, easy!" shouted the captain when they were getting nearer
the floating mass; "don't let us be running foul of the thing; no good
could come from knocking a hole in our side; keep out from it a good
cable's length."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the helmsman, in his usual cheery way; and by an
easy turn of the helm the "Pilgrim's" course was slightly modified so
as to avoid all fear of collision.
The excitement of the sailors by this time had become more intense.
Ever since the distance had been less than a mile all doubt had
vanished, and it was certain that what was attracting their attention
was the hull of a capsized ship. They knew well enough the established
rule that a third of all salvage is the right of the finders, and they
were filled with the hope that the hull they were nearing might contain
an undamaged cargo, and be "a good haul," to compensate them for their
ill-success in the last season.
A quarter of an hour later and the "Pilgrim" was within half a mile of
the deserted vessel, facing her starboard side. Water-logged to her
bulwarks, she had heeled over so completely that it would have been
next to impossible to stand upon her deck. Of her masts nothing was to
be seen; a few ends of cordage were all that remained of her shrouds,
and the try-sail chains were hanging all broken. On the starboard flank
was an enormous hole.
"Something or other has run foul of her," said Dick.
"No doubt of that," replied the captain; "the only wonder is that she
did not sink immediately."
"Oh, how I hope the poor crew have been saved!" exclaimed Mrs Weldon.
"Most probably," replied the captain, "they would all have taken to the
boats. It is as likely as not that the ship which did the mischief
would continue its course quite unconcerned."
"Surely, you cannot mean," cried Mrs Weldon, "that any one could be
capable of such inhumanity?"
"Only too probable," answered Captain Hull, "unfortunately, such
instances are very far from rare."
He scanned the drifting ship carefully and continued,--
"No, I cannot see any sign of boats here, I should guess that the crew
have made an attempt to get to land, at such a distance as this,
however, from America or from the islands of the Pacific I should be
afraid that it must be hopeless."
"Is it not possible," asked Mrs Weldon, "that some poor creature may
still survive on board, who can tell what has happened?"
"Hardly likely, madam; otherwise there would have been some sort of a
signal in sight. But it is a matter about which we will make sure."
The captain waved his hand a little in the direction in which he wished
to go, and said quietly,--
"Luff, Bolton, luff a bit!"
The "Pilgrim" by this time was not much more than three cables' lengths
from the ship, there was still no token of her being otherwise than
utterly deserted, when Dick Sands suddenly exclaimed,--
"Hark! if I am not much mistaken, that is a dog barking!"
Every one listened attentively; it was no fancy on Dick's part, sure
enough a stifled barking could be heard, as if some unfortunate dog had
been imprisoned beneath the hatchways; but as the deck was not yet
visible, it was impossible at present to determine the precise truth.
Mrs Weldon pleaded,--
"If it is only a dog, captain, let it be saved."
"Oh, yes, yes, mamma, the dog must be saved!" cried little Jack; "I
will go and get a bit of sugar ready for it."
[Illustration: Negoro had approached without being noticed by any one]
"A bit of sugar, my child, will not be much for a starved dog."
"Then it shall have my soup, and I will do without," said the boy, and
he kept shouting, "Good dog! good dog!" until he persuaded himself that
he heard the animal responding to his call.
The vessels were now scarcely three hundred feet apart; the barking was
more and more distinct, and presently a great dog was seen clinging to
the starboard netting. It barked more desperately than ever.
"Howick," said Captain Hull, calling to the boatswain, "heave to, and
lower the small boat."
The sails were soon trimmed so as to bring the schooner to a standstill
within half a cable's length of the disabled craft, the boat was
lowered, and the captain and Dick, with a couple of sailors, went on
board. The dog kept up a continual yelping; it made the most vigourous
efforts to retain its hold upon the netting, but perpetually slipped
backwards and fell off again upon the inclining deck. It was soon
manifest, however, that all the noise the creature was making was not
directed exclusively towards those who were coming to its rescue, and
Mrs. Weldon could not divest herself of the impression that there must
be some survivors still on board. All at once the animal changed its
gestures. Instead of the crouching attitude and supplicating whine with
which it seemed to be imploring the compassion of those who were
nearing it, it suddenly appeared to become bursting with violence and
furious with rage.
"What ails the brute?" exclaimed Captain Hull.
But already the boat was on the farther side of the wrecked ship, and
the captain was not in a position to see that Negoro the cook had just
come on to the schooner's deck, or that it was obvious that it was
against him that the dog had broken out in such obstreperous fury.
Negoro had approached without being noticed by any one; he made his way
to the forecastle, whence, without a word or look of surprise, he gazed
a moment at the dog, knitted his brow, and, silent and unobserved as he
had come, retired to his kitchen.
As the boat had rounded the stern of the drifting hull, it had been
observed that the one word "Waldeck" was painted on the aft-board, but
that there was no intimation of the port to which the ship belonged. To
Captain Hull's experienced eye, however, certain details of
construction gave a decided confirmation to the probability suggested
by her name that she was of American build.
Of what had once been a fine brig of 500 tons burden this hopeless
wreck was now all that remained. The large hole near the bows indicated
the place where the disastrous shock had occurred, but as, in the
heeling over, this aperture had been carried some five or six feet
above the water, the vessel had escaped the immediate foundering which
must otherwise have ensued; but still it wanted only the rising of a
heavy swell to submerge the ship at any time in a few minutes.
It did not take many more strokes to bring the boat close to the
larboard bulwark, which was half out of the water, and Captain Hull
obtained a view of the whole length of the deck. It was clear from end
to end. Both masts had been snapped off within two feet of their
sockets, and had been swept away with shrouds, stays, and rigging. Not
a single spar was to be seen floating anywhere within sight of the
wreck, a circumstance from which it was to be inferred that several
days at least had elapsed since the catastrophe.
Meantime the dog, sliding down from the taffrail, got to the centre
hatchway, which was open. Here it continued to bark, alternately
directing its eyes above deck and below.
"Look at that dog!" said Dick; "I begin to think there must be somebody
on board."
"If so," answered the captain, "he must have died of hunger; the water
of course has flooded the store-room."
"No," said Dick; "that dog wouldn't look like that if there were nobody
there alive."
[Illustration: The dog began to swim slowly and with manifest weakness
towards the boat.]
Taking the boat as close as was prudent to the wreck, the captain and
Dick called and whistled repeatedly to the dog, which after a while let
itself slip into the sea, and began to swim slowly and with manifest
weakness towards the boat. As soon as it was lifted in, the animal,
instead of devouring the piece of bread that was offered him, made its
way to a bucket containing a few drops of fresh water, and began
eagerly to lap them up.
"The poor wretch is dying of thirst!" said Dick.
It soon appeared that the dog was very far from being engrossed with
its own interests. The boat was being pushed back a few yards in order
to allow the captain to ascertain the most convenient place to get
alongside the "Waldeck," when the creature seized Dick by the jacket,
and set up a howl that was almost human in its piteousness. It was
evidently in a state of alarm that the boat was not going to return to
the wreck. The dog's meaning could not be misunderstood. The boat was
accordingly brought against the larboard side of the vessel, and while
the two sailors lashed her securely to the "Waldeck's" cat-head,
Captain Hull and Dick, with the dog persistently accompanying them,
clambered, after some difficulty, to the open hatchway between the
stumps of the masts, and made their way into the hold. It was half full
of water, but perfectly destitute of cargo, its sole contents being the
ballast sand which had slipped to larboard, and now served to keep the
vessel on her side.
One glance was sufficient to convince the captain that there was no
salvage to be effected.
"There is nothing here; nobody here," he said.
"So I see," said the apprentice, who had made his way to the extreme
fore-part of the hold.
"Then we have only to go up again," remarked the captain.
They ascended the ladder, but no sooner did they reappear upon the deck
than the dog, barking irrepressibly, began trying manifestly to drag
them towards the stern.
Yielding to what might be called the importunities of the dog, they
followed him to the poop, and there, by the dim glimmer admitted by the
sky-light, Captain Hull made out the forms of five bodies, motionless
and apparently lifeless, stretched upon the floor.
One after another, Dick hastily examined them all, and emphatically
declared it to be his opinion, that not one or them had actually ceased
to breathe; whereupon the captain did not lose a minute in summoning
the two sailors to his aid, and although it was far from an easy task,
he succeeded in getting the five unconscious men, who were all negroes,
conveyed safely to the boat.
The dog followed, apparently satisfied.
With all possible speed the boat made its way back again to the
"Pilgrim," a girt-line was lowered from the mainyard, and the
unfortunate men were raised to the deck.
"Poor things!" said Mrs. Weldon, as she looked compassionately on the
motionless forms.
"But they are not dead," cried Dick eagerly; "they are not dead; we
shall save them all yet!"
"What's the matter with them?" asked Cousin Benedict, looking at them
with utter bewilderment.
"We shall hear all about them soon, I dare say," said the captain,
smiling; "but first we will give them a few drops of rum in some water."
Cousin Benedict smiled in return.
"Negoro!" shouted the captain.
At the sound of the name, the dog, who had hitherto been quite passive,
growled fiercely, showed his teeth, and exhibited every sign of rage.
The cook did not answer.
"Negoro!" again the captain shouted, and the dog became yet more angry.
At this second summons Negoro slowly left his kitchen, but no sooner
had he shown his face upon the deck than the animal made a rush at him,
and would unquestionably have seized him by the throat if the man had
not knocked him back with a poker which he had brought with him in his
hand.
The infuriated beast was secured by the sailors, and prevented from
inflicting any serious injury.
"Do you know this dog?" asked the captain.
"Know him? Not I! I have never set eyes on the brute in my life."
"Strange!" muttered Dick to himself; "there is some mystery here. We
shall see."
CHAPTER IV.
THE SURVIVORS OF THE "WALDECK."
In spite of the watchfulness of the French and English cruisers, there
is no doubt that the slave-trade is still extensively carried on in all
parts of equatorial Africa, and that year after year vessels loaded
with slaves leave the coasts of Angola and Mozambique to transport
their living freight to many quarters even of the civilized world.
Of this Captain Hull was well aware, and although he was now in a
latitude which was comparatively little traversed by such slavers, he
could not help almost involuntarily conjecturing that the negroes they
had just found must be part of a slave-cargo which was on its way to
some colony of the Pacific; if this were so, he would at least have the
satisfaction of announcing to them that they had regained their freedom
from the moment that they came on board the "Pilgrim."
Whilst these thoughts were passing through his mind, Mrs. Weldon,
assisted by Nan and the ever active Dick Sands, was doing everything in
her power to restore consciousness to the poor sufferers. The judicious
administration of fresh water and a limited quantity of food soon had
the effect of making them revive; and when they were restored to their
senses it was found that the eldest of them, a man of about sixty years
of age, who immediately regained his powers of speech, was able to
reply in good English to all the questions that were put to him. In
answer to Captain Hull's inquiry whether they were not slaves, the old
negro proudly stated that he and his companions were all free American
citizens, belonging to the state of Pennsylvania.
[Illustration: Mrs. Weldon, assisted by Nan and the ever active Dick
Sands, was doing everything in her power to restore consciousness to
the poor sufferers.]
"Then, let me assure you, my friend," said the captain, "you have by no
means compromised your liberty in having been brought on board the
American schooner 'Pilgrim.'"
Not merely, as it seemed, on account of his age and experience, but
rather because of a certain superiority and greater energy of
character, this old man was tacitly recognized as the spokesman of his
party; he freely communicated all the information that Captain Hull
required to hear, and by degrees he related all the details of his
adventures.
He said that his name was Tom, and that when he was only six years of
age he had been sold as a slave, and brought from his home in Africa to
the United States; but by the act of emancipation he had long since
recovered his freedom. His companions, who were all much younger than
himself, their ages ranging from twenty-five to thirty, were all
free-born, their parents having been emancipated before their birth, so
that no white man had ever exercised upon them the rights of ownership.
One of them was his own son; his name was Bat (an abbreviation of
Bartholomew); and there were three others, named Austin, Actæon, and
Hercules. All four of them were specimens of that stalwart race that
commands so high a price in the African market, and in spite of the
emaciation induced by their recent sufferings, their muscular,
well-knit frames betokened a strong and healthy constitution. Their
manner bore the impress of that solid education which is given in the
North American schools, and their speech had lost all trace of the
"nigger-tongue," a dialect without articles or inflexions, which since
the anti-slavery war has almost died out in the United States.
Three years ago, old Tom stated, the five men had been engaged by an
Englishman who had large property in South Australia, to work upon his
estates near Melbourne. Here they had realized a considerable profit,
and upon the completion of their engagement they determined to return
with their savings to America. Accordingly, on the 5th of January,
after paying their passage in the ordinary way, they embarked at
Melbourne on board the "Waldeck." Everything went on well for seventeen
days, until, on the night of the 22nd, which was very dark, they were
run into by a great steamer. They were all asleep in their berths, but,
roused by the shock of the collision, which was extremely severe, they
hurriedly made their way on to the deck. The scene was terrible; both
masts were gone, and the brig, although the water had not absolutely
flooded her hold so as to make her sink, had completely heeled over on
her side. Captain and crew had entirely disappeared, some probably
having been dashed into the sea, others perhaps having saved themselves
by clinging to the rigging of the ship which had fouled them, and which
could be distinguished through the darkness rapidly receding in the
distance. For a while they were paralyzed, but they soon awoke to the
conviction that they were left alone upon a half-capsized and disabled
hull, twelve hundred miles from the nearest land. Mrs. Weldon was loud
in her expression of indignation that any captain should have the
barbarity to abandon an unfortunate vessel with which his own
carelessness had brought him into collision. It would be bad enough,
she said for a driver on a public road, when it might be presumed that
help would be forthcoming, to pass on unconcerned after causing an
accident to another vehicle; but how much more shameful to desert the
injured on the open sea, where the victims of his incompetence could
have no chance of obtaining succour! Captain Hull could only repeat
what he had said before, that incredibly atrocious as it might seem,
such inhumanity was far from rare.
On resuming his story, Tom said that he and his companions soon found
that they had no means left for getting away from the capsized brig;
both the boats had been crushed in the collision, so that they had no
alternative except to await the appearance of a passing vessel, whilst
the wreck was drifting hopelessly along under the action of the
currents. This accounted for the fact of their being found so far south
of their proper course.
For the next ten days the negroes had subsisted upon a few scraps of
food that they found in the stern cabin; but as the store room was
entirely under water, they were quite unable to obtain a drop of
anything to drink, and the freshwater tanks that had been lashed to the
deck had been stove in at the time of the catastrophe. Tortured with
thirst, the poor men had suffered agonies, and having on the previous
night entirely lost consciousness, they must soon have died if the
"Pilgrim's" timely arrival had not effected their rescue.
All the outlines of Tom's narrative were fully confirmed by the other
negroes; Captain Hull could see no reason to doubt it; indeed, the
facts seemed to speak for themselves.
One other survivor of the wreck, if he had been gifted with the power
of speech, would doubtless have corroborated the testimony. This was
the dog who seemed to have such an unaccountable dislike to Negoro.
Dingo, as the dog was named, belonged to the fine breed of mastiffs
peculiar to New Holland. It was not, however, from Australia, but from
the coast of West Africa, near the mouth of the Congo, that the animal
had come. He had been picked up there, two years previously, by the
captain of the "Waldeck," who had found him wandering about and more
than half starved. The initials S. V. engraved upon his collar were the
only tokens that the dog had a past history of his own. After he had
been taken on board the "Waldeck," he remained quite unsociable,
apparently ever pining for some lost master, whom he had failed to find
in the desert land where he had been met with.
Larger than the dogs of the Pyrenees, Dingo was a magnificent example
of his kind. Standing on his hind legs, with his head thrown back, he
was as tall as a man. His agility and strength would have made him a
sure match for a panther, and he would not have flinched at facing a
bear. His fine shaggy coat was a dark tawny colour, shading off
somewhat lighter round the muzzle, and his long bushy tail was as
strong as a lion's. If he were made angry, no doubt he might become a
most formidable foe, so that it was no wonder that Negoro did not feel
altogether gratified at his reception.
But Dingo, though unsociable, was not savage. Old Tom said that, on
board the "Waldeck," he had noticed that the animal seemed to have a
particular dislike to negroes; not that he actually attempted to do
them any harm, only he uniformly avoided them, giving an impression
that he must have been systematically ill-treated by the natives of
that part of Africa in which he had been found. During the ten days
that had elapsed since the collision, Dingo had kept resolutely aloof
from Tom and his companions; they could not tell what he had been
feeding on; they only knew that, like themselves, he had suffered an
excruciating thirst.
Such had been the experience of the survivors of the "Waldeck." Their
situation had been most critical. Even if they survived the pangs of
want of food, the slightest gale or the most inconsiderable swell might
at any moment have sunk the water-logged ship, and had it not been that
calms and contrary winds had contributed to the opportune arrival of
the "Pilgrim," an inevitable fate was before them; their corpses must
lie at the bottom of the sea.
Captain Hull's act of humanity, however, would not be complete unless
he succeeded in restoring the shipwrecked men to their homes. This he
promised to do. After completing the unlading at Valparaiso, the
"Pilgrim" would make direct for California, where, as Mrs. Weldon
assured them, they would be most hospitably received by her husband,
and provided with the necessary means for returning to Pennsylvania.
The five men, who, as the consequence of the shipwreck, had lost all
the savings of their last three years of toil, were profoundly grateful
to their kind-hearted benefactors; nor, poor negroes as they were, did
they utterly resign the hope that at some future time they might have
it in their power to repay the debt which they owed their deliverers.
[Illustration: The good natured negroes were ever ready to lend a
helping hand.]
CHAPTER V.
DINGO'S SAGACITY.
Meantime the "Pilgrim" pursued her course, keeping as much as possible
to the east, and before evening closed in the hull of the "Waldeck" was
out of sight.
Captain Hull still continued to feel uneasy about the constant
prevalence of calms; not that for himself he cared much about the delay
of a week or two in a voyage from New Zealand to Valparaiso, but he was
disappointed at the prolonged inconvenience it caused to his lady
passenger. Mrs. Weldon, however, submitted to the detention very
philosophically, and did not utter a word of complaint.
The captain's next care was to improvise sleeping accommodation for Tom
and his four associates. No room for them could possibly be found in
the crew's quarters, so that their berths had to be arranged under the
forecastle; and as long as the weather continued fine, there was no
reason why the negroes, accustomed as they were to a somewhat rough
life, should not find themselves sufficiently comfortable.
After this incident of the discovery of the wreck, life on board the
"Pilgrim" relapsed into its ordinary routine. With the wind invariably
in the same direction, the sails required very little shifting; but
whenever it happened, as occasionally it would, that there was any
tacking to be done, the good-natured negroes were ever ready to lend a
helping hand; and the rigging would creak again under the weight of
Hercules, a great strapping fellow, six feet high, who seemed almost to
require ropes of extra strength made for his special use.
Hercules became at once a great favourite with little Jack; and when
the giant lifted him like a doll in his stalwart arms, the child fairly
shrieked with delight.
"Higher! higher! very high!" Jack would say sometimes.
"There you are, then, Master Jack," Hercules would reply as he raised
him aloft.
"Am I heavy?" asked the child,
"As heavy as a feather."
"Then lift me higher still," cried Jack; "as high as ever you can
reach."
And Hercules, with the child's two feet supported on his huge palm,
would walk about the deck with him like an acrobat, Jack all the time
endeavouring, with vain efforts, to make him "feel his weight."
Besides Dick Sands and Hercules, Jack admitted a third friend to his
companionship. This was Dingo. The dog, unsociable as he had been on
board the "Waldeck," seemed to have found society more congenial to his
tastes, and being one of those animals that are fond of children, he
allowed Jack to do with him almost anything he pleased. The child,
however, never thought of hurting the dog in any way, and it was
doubtful which of the two had the greater enjoyment of their mutual
sport. Jack found a live dog infinitely more entertaining than his old
toy upon its four wheels, and his great delight was to mount upon
Dingo's back, when the animal would gallop off with him like a
race-horse with his jockey. It must be owned that one result of this
intimacy was a serious diminution of the supply of sugar in the
store-room. Dingo was the delight of all the crew excepting Negoro, who
cautiously avoided coming in contact with an animal who showed such
unmistakable symptoms of hostility.
The new companions that Jack had thus found did not in the least make
him forget his old friend Dick Sands, who devoted all his leisure time
to him as assiduously as ever. Mrs. Weldon regarded their intimacy with
the greatest satisfaction, and one day made a remark to that effect in
the presence of Captain Hull.
[Illustration: "There you are, then, Master Jack!"]
"You are right, madam," said the captain cordially; "Dick is a capital
fellow, and will be sure to be a first-rate sailor. He has an instinct
which is little short of a genius; it supplies all deficiencies of
theory. Considering how short an experience and how little instruction
he has had, it is quite wonderful how much he knows about a ship."
"Certainly for his age," assented Mrs. Weldon, "he is singularly
advanced. I can safely say that I have never had a fault to find with
him. I believe that it is my husband's intention, after this voyage, to
let him have systematic training in navigation, so that he may be able
ultimately to become a captain."
"I have no misgivings, madam," replied the captain; "there is every
reason to expect that he will be an honour to the service."
"Poor orphan!" said the lady; "he has been trained in a hard school."
"Its lessons have not been lost upon him," rejoined Captain Hull; "they
have taught him the prime lesson that he has his own way to make in the
world."
The eyes of the two speakers turned as it were unwittingly in the
direction where Dick Sands happened to be standing. He was at the helm.
"Look at him now!" said the captain; "see how steadily he keeps his eye
upon the fore; nothing distracts him from his duty; he is as much to be
depended on as the most experienced helmsman. It was a capital thing
for him that he began his training as a cabin-boy. Nothing like it.
Begin at the beginning. It is the best of training for the merchant
service."
"But surely," interposed Mrs. Weldon, "you would not deny that in the
navy there have been many good officers who have never had the training
of which you are speaking?"
"True, madam; but yet even some of the best of them have begun at the
lowest step of the ladder. For instance, Lord Nelson."
Just at this instant Cousin Benedict emerged from the stern-cabin, and
completely absorbed, according to his wont, in his own pursuit, began
to wander up and down the deck, peering into the interstices of the
network, rummaging under the seats, and drawing his long fingers along
the cracks in the floor where the tar had crumbled away.
"Well, Benedict, how are you getting on?" asked Mrs Weldon.
"I? Oh, well enough, thank you," he replied dreamily; "but I wish we
were on shore."
"What were you looking for under that bench?" said Captain Hull.
"Insects, of course," answered Benedict; "I am always looking for
insects."
"But don't you know, Benedict," said Mrs. Weldon, "that Captain Hull is
far too particular to allow any vermin on the deck of his vessel?"
Captain Hull smiled and said,--
"Mrs Weldon is very complimentary; but I am really inclined to hope
that your investigations in the cabins of the 'Pilgrim' will not be
attended with much success."
Cousin Benedict shrugged his shoulders in a manner that indicated that
he was aware that the cabins could furnish nothing attractive in the
way of insects.
"However," continued the captain, "I dare say down in the hold you
could find some cockroaches; but cockroaches, I presume, would be of
little or no interest to you."
"No interest?" cried Benedict, at once warmed into enthusiasm; "why,
are they not the very orthoptera that roused the imprecations of Virgil
and Horace? Are they not closely allied to the _Periplaneta orientalis_
and the American Kakerlac, which inhabit--"
"I should rather say infest," interrupted the captain.
"Easy enough to see, sir," replied Benedict, stopping short with
amazement, "that you are not an entomologist!"
"I fear I must plead guilty to your accusation," said the captain
good-humouredly.
"You must not expect every one to be such an enthusiast in your
favourite study as yourself." Mrs. Weldon interposed; "but are you not
satisfied with the result of your explorations in New Zealand?"
"Yes, yes," answered Benedict, with a sort of hesitating reluctance; "I
must not say I was dissatisfied; I was really very delighted to secure
that new staphylin which hitherto had never been seen elsewhere than in
New California; but still, you know, an entomologist is always craving
for fresh additions to his collection."
While he was speaking, Dingo, leaving little Jack, who was romping with
him, came and jumped on Benedict, and began to fawn on him.
"Get away, you brute!" he exclaimed, thrusting the dog aside.
"Poor Dingo! good dog!" cried Jack, running up and taking the animal's
huge head between his tiny hands.
"Your interest in cockroaches, Mr. Benedict," observed the captain,
"does not seem to extend to dogs."
"It isn't that I dislike dogs at all," answered Benedict; "but this
creature has disappointed me."
"How do you mean? You could hardly want to catalogue him with the
diptera or hymenoptera?" asked Mrs Weldon laughingly.
"Oh, not at all," replied Benedict, with the most unmoved gravity. "But
I understood that he had been found on the West Coast of Africa, and I
hoped that perhaps he might have brought over some African hemiptera in
his coat; but I have searched his coat well, over and over again,
without finding a single specimen. The dog has disappointed me," he
repeated mournfully.
"I can only hope," said the captain, "that if you had found anything,
you were going to kill it instantly."
Benedict looked with mute astonishment into the captain's face. In a
moment or two afterwards, he said,--
"I suppose, sir, you acknowledge that Sir John Franklin was an eminent
member of your profession?"
"Certainly; why?"
"Because Sir John would never take away the life of the most
insignificant insect; it is related of him that when he had once been
incessantly tormented all day by a mosquito, at last he found it on the
back of his hand and blew it off, saying, 'Fly away, little creature,
the world is large enough for both you and me!'"
"That little anecdote of yours, Mr. Benedict," said the captain,
smiling, "is a good deal older than Sir John Franklin. It is told, in
nearly the same words, about Uncle Toby, in Sterne's 'Tristram Shandy';
only there it was not a mosquito, it was a common fly."
"And was Uncle Toby an entomologist?" asked Benedict; "did he ever
really live?"
"No," said the captain, "he was only a character in a novel."
Cousin Benedict gave a look of utter contempt, and Captain Hull and Mrs
Weldon could not resist laughing.
Such is only one instance of the way in which Cousin Benedict
invariably brought it about that all conversation with him ultimately
turned upon his favourite pursuit, and all along, throughout the
monotonous hours of smooth sailing, while the "Pilgrim" was making her
little headway to the east, he showed his own devotion to his pet
science, by seeking to enlist new disciples. First of all, he tried his
powers of persuasion upon Dick Sands, but soon finding that the young
apprentice had no taste for entomological mysteries, he gave him up and
turned his attention to the negroes. Nor was he much more successful
with them; one after another, Tom, Bat, Actæon, and Austin had all
withdrawn themselves from his instructions, and the class at last was
reduced to the single person of Hercules; but in him the enthusiastic
naturalist thought he had discovered a latent talent which could
distinguish between a parasite and a thysanura.
Hercules accordingly submitted to pass a considerable portion of his
leisure in the observation of every variety of coleoptera; he was
encouraged to study the extensive collection of stag-beetles,
tiger-beetles and lady-birds; and although at times the enthusiast
trembled to see some of his most delicate and fragile specimens in the
huge grasp of his pupil, he soon learned that the man's gentle docility
was a sufficient guarantee against his clumsiness.
While the science of entomology was thus occupying its two votaries,
Mrs. Weldon was giving her own best attention to the education of
Master Jack. Reading and writing she undertook to teach herself, while
she entrusted the instruction in arithmetic to the care of Dick Sands.
Under the conviction that a child of five years will make a much more
rapid progress if something like amusement be combined with his
lessons, Mrs. Weldon would not teach her boy to spell by the use of an
ordinary school primer, but used a set of cubes, on the sides of which
the various letters were painted in red. After first making a word and
showing it to Jack, she set him to put it together without her help,
and it was astonishing how quickly the child advanced, and how many
hours he would spend in this way, both in the cabin and on deck. There
were more than fifty cubes, which, besides the alphabet, included all
the digits; so that they were of service for Dick Sands' lessons as
well as for her own. She was more than satisfied with her device.
On the morning of the 9th an incident occurred which could not fail to
be observed as somewhat remarkable. Jack was half lying, half sitting
on the deck, amusing himself with his letters, and had just finished
putting together a word with which he intended to puzzle old Tom, who,
with his hand sheltering his eyes, was pretending not to see the
difficulty which was being labouriously prepared to bewilder him; all
at once, Dingo, who had been gambolling round the child, made a sudden
pause, lifted his right paw, and wagged his tail convulsively. Then
darting down upon a capital S, he seized it in his mouth, and carried
it some paces away.
"Oh, Dingo, Dingo! you mustn't eat my letters!" shouted the child.
But the dog had already dropped the block of wood, and coming back
again, picked up another, which he laid quietly by the side of the
first. This time it was a capital V. Jack uttered an exclamation of
astonishment which brought to his side not only his mother, but the
captain and Dick, who were both on deck. In answer to their inquiry as
to what had occurred, Jack cried out in the greatest excitement that
Dingo knew how to read. At any rate he was sure that he knew his
letters.
Dick Sands smiled and stooped to take back the letters. Dingo snarled
and showed his teeth, but the apprentice was not frightened; he carried
his point, and replaced the two blocks among the rest. Dingo in an
instant pounced upon them again, and having drawn them to his side,
laid a paw upon each of them, as if to signify his intention of
retaining them in his possession. Of the other letters of the alphabet
he took no notice at all.
"It is very strange," said Mrs. Weldon; "he has picked out S V again."
"S V!" repeated the captain thoughtfully; "are not those the letters
that form the initials on his collar?"
And turning to the old negro, he continued,--
"Tom didn't you say that this dog did not always belong to the captain
of the 'Waldeck'?"
"To the best of my belief," replied Tom, "the captain had only had him
about two years. I often heard him tell how he found him at the mouth
of the Congo."
"Do you suppose that he never knew where the animal came from, or to
whom he had previously belonged?" asked Captain Hull.
"Never," answered Tom, shaking his head; "a lost dog is worse to
identify than a lost child; you see, he can't make himself understood
any way."
The captain made no answer, but stood musing; Mrs. Weldon interrupted
him.
"These letters, captain, seem to be recalling something to your
recollection.
"I can hardly go so far as to say that, Mrs. Weldon," he replied; "but
I cannot help associating them with the fate of a brave explorer."
"Whom do you mean? said the lady.
"In 1871, just two years ago," the captain continued, "a French
traveller, under the auspices of the Geographical Society of Paris, set
out for the purpose of crossing Africa from west to east. His
starting-point was the mouth of the Congo, and his exit was designed to
be as near as possible to Cape Deldago, at the mouth of the River
Rovouma, of which he was to ascertain the true course. The name of this
man was Samuel Vernon, and I confess it strikes me as somewhat a
strange coincidence that the letters engraved on Dingo's collar should
be Vernon's initials."
[Illustration: Jack cried out in the greatest excitement that Dingo
knew how to read]
"Is nothing known about this traveller?" asked Mrs. Weldon.
"Nothing was ever heard of him after his first departure. It appears
quite certain that he failed to reach the east coast, and it can only
be conjectured either that he died upon his way, or that he was made
prisoner by the natives; and if so, and this dog ever belonged to him,
the animal might have made his way back to the sea-coast, where, just
about the time that would be likely, the captain of the 'Waldeck'
picked him up."
"But you have no reason to suppose, Captain Hull, that Vernon ever
owned a dog of this description?"
"I own I never heard of it," said the captain; "but still the
impression fixes itself on my mind that the dog must have been his; how
he came to know one letter from another, it is not for me to pretend to
say. Look at him now, madam! he seems not only to be reading the
letters for himself, but to be inviting us to come and read them with
him."
Whilst Mrs. Weldon was watching the dog with much amusement, Dick
Sands, who had listened to the previous conversation, took the
opportunity of asking the captain whether the traveller Vernon had
started on his expedition quite alone.
"That is really more than I can tell you, my boy," answered Captain
Hull; "but I should almost take it for granted that he would have a
considerable retinue of natives."
The captain spoke without being aware that Negoro had meanwhile quietly
stolen on deck. At first his presence was quite unnoticed, and no one
observed the peculiar glance with which he looked at the two letters
over which Dingo still persisted in keeping guard. The dog, however, no
sooner caught sight of the cook than he began to bristle with rage,
whereupon Negoro, with a threatening gesture which seemed half
involuntary, withdrew immediately to his accustomed quarters.
The incident did not escape the captain's observation.
"No doubt," he said, "there is some mystery here;" and he was pondering
the matter over in his mind when Dick Sands spoke.
"Don't you think it very singular, sir, that this dog should have such
a knowledge of the alphabet?"
Jack here put in his word.
"My mamma has told me about a dog whose name was Munito, who could read
as well as a schoolmaster, and could play dominoes."
Mrs. Weldon smiled.
"I am afraid, my child, that that dog was not quite so learned as you
imagine. I don't suppose he knew one letter from another; but his
master, who was a clever American, having found out that the animal had
a very keen sense of hearing, taught him some curious tricks."
"What sort of tricks?" asked Dick, who was almost as much interested as
little Jack.
"When he had to perform in public," continued Mrs. Weldon, "a lot of
letters like yours, Jack, were spread out upon a table, and Munito
would put together any word that the company should propose, either
aloud or in a whisper, to his master. The creature would walk about
until he stopped at the very letter which was wanted. The secret of it
all was that the dog's owner gave him a signal when he was to stop by
rattling a little tooth-pick in his pocket, making a slight noise that
only the dog's ears were acute enough to perceive."
Dick was highly amused, and said,--
"But that was a dog who could do nothing wonderful without his master."
"Just so," answered Mrs. Weldon; "and it surprises me very much to see
Dingo picking out these letters without a master to direct him."
[Illustration: Negoro, with a threatening gesture that seemed half
involuntary, withdrew immediately to his accustomed quarters.]
"The more one thinks of it, the more strange it is," said Captain Hull;
"but, after all, Dingo's sagacity is not greater than that of the dog
which rang the convent bell in order to get at the dish that was
reserved for passing beggars; nor than that of the dog who had to turn
a spit every other day, and never could be induced to work when it was
not his proper day. Dingo evidently has no acquaintance with any other
letters except the two S V; and some circumstance which we can never
guess has made him familiar with them."
"What a pity he cannot talk!" exclaimed the apprentice; "we should know
why it is that he always shows his teeth at Negoro."
"And tremendous teeth they are!" observed the captain, as Dingo at that
moment opened his mouth, and made a display of his formidable fangs.
CHAPTER VI.
A WHALE IN SIGHT.
It was only what might be expected that the dog's singular exhibition
of sagacity should repeatedly form a subject of conversation between
Mrs. Weldon, the captain, and Dick. The young apprentice in particular
began to entertain a lurking feeling of distrust towards Negoro,
although it must be owned that the man's conduct in general afforded no
tangible grounds for suspicion.
Nor as it only among the stern passengers that Dingo's remarkable feat
was discussed; amongst the crew in the bow the dog not only soon gained
the reputation of being able to read, but was almost credited with
being able to write too, as well as any sailor among them; indeed the
chief wonder was that he did not speak.
"Perhaps he can," suggested Bolton, the helmsman, "and likely enough
some fine day we shall have him coming to ask about our bearings, and
to inquire which way the wind lies."
"Ah! why not?" assented another sailor; "parrots talk, and magpies
talk; why shouldn't a dog? For my part, I should guess it must be
easier to speak with a mouth than with a beak."
"Of course it is," said Howick, the boatswain; "only a quadruped has
never yet been known to do it."
Perhaps, however, the worthy fellow would have been amazed to hear that
a certain Danish _savant_ once possesed a dog that could actually
pronounce quite distinctly nearly twenty different words, demonstrating
that the construction of the glottis, the aperture at the top of the
windpipe, was adapted for the emission of regular sounds: of course the
animal attached no meaning to the words it uttered any more than a
parrot or a jay can comprehend their own chatterings.
[Illustration: "This Dingo is nothing out of the way."]
Thus, unconsciously, Dingo had become the hero of the hour. On several
separate occasions Captain Hull repeated the experiment of spreading
out the blocks before him, but invariably with the same result; the dog
never failed, without the slightest hesitation, to pick out the two
letters, leaving all the rest of the alphabet quite unnoticed.
Cousin Benedict alone, somewhat ostentatiously, professed to take no
interest in the circumstance.
"You cannot suppose," he said to Captain Hull, after various
repetitions of the trick, "that dogs are to be reckoned the only
animals endowed with intelligence Rats, you know, will always leave a
sinking ship, and beavers invariably raise their dams before the
approach of a flood. Did not the horses of Nicomedes, Scanderberg and
Oppian die of grief for the loss of their masters? Have there not been
instances of donkeys with wonderful memories? Birds, too, have been
trained to do the most remarkable things; they have been taught to
write word after word at their master's dictation; there are cockatoos
who can count the people in a room as accurately as a mathematician;
and haven't you heard of the old Cardinal's parrot that he would not
part with for a hundred gold crowns because it could repeat the
Apostles' creed from beginning to end without a blunder? And insects,"
he continued, warming into enthusiasm, "how marvellously they vindicate
the axiom--
'In minimis maximus Deus!'
Are not the structures of ants the very models for the architects of a
city? Has the diving-bell of the aquatic argyroneta ever been surpassed
by the invention of the most skilful student of mechanical art? And
cannot fleas go through a drill and fire a gun as well as the most
accomplished artilleryman? This Dingo is nothing out of the way. I
suppose he belongs to some unclassed species of mastiff. Perhaps one
day or other he may come to be identified as the 'canis alphabeticus'
of New Zealand."
The worthy entomologist delivered this and various similar harangues;
but Dingo, nevertheless, retained his high place in the general
estimation, and by the occupants of the forecastle was regarded as
little short of a phenomenon. The feeling, otherwise universal, was not
in any degree shared by Negoro, and it is not improbable that the man
would have been tempted to some foul play with the dog if the open
sympathies of the crew had not kept him in check. More than ever he
studiously avoided coming in contact in any way with the animal, and
Dick Sands in his own mind was quite convinced that since the incident
of the letters, the cook's hatred of the dog had become still more
intense.
After continual alternations with long and wearisome calms the
north-east wind perceptibly moderated, and on the both, Captain Hull
really began to hope that such a change would ensue as to allow the
schooner to run straight before the wind. Nineteen days had elapsed
since the "Pilgrim" had left Auckland, a period not so long but that
with a favourable breeze it might be made up at last. Some days however
were yet to elapse before the wind veered round to the anticipated
quarter.
It has been already stated that this portion of the Pacific is almost
always deserted. It is out of the line of the American and Australian
steam-packets, and except a whaler had been brought into it by some
such exceptional circumstances as the "Pilgrim," it was quite unusual
to see one in this latitude.
But, however void of traffic was the surface of the sea, to none but an
unintelligent mind could it appear monotonous or barren of interest.
The poetry of the ocean breathes forth in its minute and almost
imperceptible changes. A marine plant, a tuft of seaweed lightly
furrowing the water, a drifting spar with its unknown history, may
afford unlimited scope--for the imagination; every little drop passing,
in its process of evaporation, backwards and forwards from sea to sky,
might perchance reveal its own special secret; and happy are those
minds which are capable of a due appreciation of the mysteries of air
and ocean.
[Illustration: Occasionally Dick Sands would take a pistol, and now and
then a rifle.]
Above the surface as well as below, the restless flood is ever teaming
with animal life; and the passengers on board the "Pilgrim" derived no
little amusement from watching great flocks of birds migrating
northwards to escape the rigour of the polar winter, and ever and again
descending in rapid flight to secure some tiny fish. Occasionally Dick
Sands would take a pistol, and now and then a rifle, and, thanks to Mr.
Weldon's former instructions, would bring down various specimens of the
feathered tribe.
Sometimes white petrels would congregate in considerable numbers near
the schooner; and sometimes petrels of another species, with brown
borders on their wings, would come in sight; now there would be flocks
of damiers skimming the water; and now groups of penguins, whose clumsy
gait appears so ludicrous on shore; but, as Captain Hull pointed out,
when their stumpy wings were employed as fins, they were a match for
the most rapid of fish, so that sailors have often mistaken them for
bonitos.
High over head, huge albatrosses, their outspread wings measuring ten
feet from tip to tip, would soar aloft, thence to swoop down towards
the deep, into which they plunged their beaks in search of food. Such
incidents and scenes as these were infinite in their variety, and it
was accordingly only for minds that were obtuse to the charms of nature
that the voyage could be monotonous.
On the day the wind shifted, Mrs. Weldon was walking up and down on the
"Pilgrim's" stern, when her attention was attracted by what seemed to
her a strange phenomenon. All of a sudden, far as the eye could reach,
the sea had assumed a reddish hue, as if it were tinged with blood.
Both Dick and Jack were standing close behind her, and she cried,--
"Look, Dick, look! the sea is all red. Is it a sea-weed that is making
the water so strange a colour?
"No," answered Dick, "it is not a weed; it is what the sailors call
whales' food; it is formed, I believe, of innumerable myriads of minute
crustacea."
"Crustacea they may be," replied Mrs. Weldon, "but they must be so
small that they are mere insects. Cousin Benedict no doubt will like to
see them."
She called aloud,--
"Benedict! Benedict! come here! we have a sight here to interest you."
The amateur naturalist slowly emerged from his cabin followed by
Captain Hull.
"Ah! yes, I see!" said the captain; "whales' food; just the opportunity
for you, Mr. Benedict; a chance not to be thrown away for studying one
of the most curious of the crustacea."
"Nonsense!" ejaculated Benedict contemptuously; "utter nonsense!"
"Why? what do you mean, Mr. Benedict?" retorted the captain; "surely
you, as an entomologist, must know that I am right in my conviction
that these crustacea belong to one of the six classes of the
articulata."
The disdain of Cousin Benedict was expressed by a repeated sneer.
"Are you not aware, sir, that my researches as an entomologist are
confined entirely to the hexapoda?"
Captain Hull, unable to repress a smile, only answered
good-humouredly,--
"I see, sir, your tastes do not lie in the same direction as those of
the whale."
And turning to Mrs. Weldon, he continued,--
"To whalemen, madam, this is a sight that speaks for itself. It is a
token that we ought to lose no time in getting out our lines and
looking to the state of our harpoons. There is game not far away."
Jack gave vent to his astonishment.
"Do you mean that great creatures like whales feed on such tiny things
as these?"
"Yes, my boy," said the captain; "and I daresay they are as nice to
them as semolina and ground rice are to you.
"When a whale gets into the middle of them he has nothing to do but to
open his jaws, and, in a minute, hundreds of thousands of these minute
creatures are inside the fringe or whalebone around his palate, and he
is sure of a good mouthful."
"So you see, Jack," said Dick, "the whale gets his shrimps without the
trouble of shelling them."
"And when he has just closed his snappers is the very time to give him
a good taste of the harpoon," added Captain Hull.
The words had hardly escaped the captain's lips when a shout from one
of the sailors announced,--
"A whale to larboard!"
"There's the whale!" repeated the captain. All his professional
instincts were aroused in an instant, and he hurried to the bow,
followed in eager curiosity by all the stern passengers.
Even Cousin Benedict loitered up in the rear, constrained, in spite of
himself, to take a share in the general interest.
There was no doubt about the matter. Four miles or so to windward an
unusual commotion in the water betokened to experienced eyes the
presence of a whale; but the distance was too great to permit a
reasonable conjecture to be formed as to which species of those
mammifers the creature belonged.
Three distinct species are familiarly known. First there is the Right
whale, which is ordinarily sought for in the northern fisheries. The
average length of this cetacean is sixty feet, though it has been known
to attain the length of eighty feet. It has no dorsal fin, and beneath
its skin is a thick layer of blubber. One of these monsters alone will
yield as much as a hundred barrels of oil.
Then there is the Hump-back, a typical representative of the species
"balænoptera," a definition which may at first sight appear to possess
an interest for an entomologist, but which really refers to two white
dorsal fins, each half as wide as the body, resembling a pair of wings,
and in their formation similar to those of the flying-fish. It must be
owned, however, that a flying whale would decidedly be a _rara avis_.
Lastly, there is the Jubarte, commonly known as the Finback. It is
provided with a dorsal fin, and in length not unfrequently is a match
for the gigantic Right whale.
While it was impossible to decide to which of the three species the
whale in the distance really belonged, the general impression inclined
to the belief that it was a jubarte.
With longing eyes Captain Hull and his crew gazed at the object of
general attraction. Just as irresistibly as it is said a clockmaker is
drawn on to examine the mechanism of every clock which chance may throw
in his way, so is a whaleman ever anxious to plunge his harpoon into
any whale that he can get within his reach. The larger the game the
more keen the excitement; and no elephant-hunter's eagerness ever
surpasses the zest of the whale-fisher when once started in pursuit of
the prey.
To the crew the sight of the whale was the opening of an unexpected
opportunity, and no wonder they were fired with the burning hope that
even now they might do something to supply the deficiency of their
meagre haul throughout the season.
Far away as the creature still was, the captain's practised eye soon
enabled him to detect various indications that satisfied him as to its
true species. Amongst other things that arrested his attention, he
observed a column of water and vapour ejected from the nostrils. "It
isn't a right whale," he said; "if so, its spout would be smaller and
it would rise higher in the air. And I do not think it is a hump-back.
I cannot hear the hump-back's roar. Dick, tell me, what do you think
about it?"
With a critical eye Dick Sands looked long and steadily at the spout.
"It blows out water, sir," said the apprentice, "water, as well as
vapour. I should think it is a finback. But it must be a rare large
one."
"Seventy feet, at least!" rejoined the captain, flushing with his
enthusiasm.
"What a big fellow!" said Jack, catching the excitement of his elders.
[Illustration: "What a big fellow!"]
"Ah, Jack, my boy," chuckled the captain, "the whale little thinks who
are watching him enjoy his breakfast!"
"Yes," said the boatswain; "a dozen such gentlemen as that would
freight a craft twice the size of ours; but this one, if only we can
get him, will go a good way towards filling our empty barrels."
"Rather rough work, you know," said Dick, "to attack a finback!"
"You are right, Dick," answered the captain; "the boat has yet to be
built which is strong enough to resist the flap of a jubarte's tail."
"But the profit is worth the risk, captain, isn't it?"
"You are right again, Dick," replied Captain Hull, and as he spoke, he
clambered on to the bowsprit in order that he might get a better view
of the whale.
The crew were as eager as their captain. Mounted on the fore-shrouds,
they scanned the movements of their coveted prey in the distance,
freely descanting upon the profit to be made out of a good finback and
declaring that it would be a thousand pities if this chance of filling
the casks below should be permitted to be lost.
Captain Hull was perplexed. He bit his nails and knitted his brow.
"Mamma!" cried little Jack, "I should so much like to see a whale
close,--quite close, you know."
"And so you shall, my boy," replied the captain, who was standing by,
and had come to the resolve that if his men would back him, he would
make an attempt to capture the prize.
He turned to his crew,--
"My men! what do you think? shall we make the venture? Remember, we are
all alone; we have no whalemen to help us; we must rely upon ourselves;
I have thrown a harpoon before now; I can throw a harpoon again; what
do you say?"
The crew responded with a ringing cheer,--
"Ay, ay, sir! Ay, ay!"
CHAPTER VII.
PREPARATIONS FOR AN ATTACK.
Great was the excitement that now prevailed, and the question of an
attempt to capture the sea-monster became the ruling theme of
conversation. Mrs. Weldon expressed considerable doubt as to the
prudence of venturing upon so great a risk with such a limited number
of hands, but when Captain Hull assured her that he had more than once
successfully attacked a whale with a single boat, and that for his part
he had no fear of failure, she made no further remonstrance, and
appeared quite satisfied.
Having formed his resolve, the captain lost no time in setting about
his preliminary arrangements. He could not really conceal from his own
mind that the pursuit of a finback was always a matter of some peril,
and he was anxious, accordingly, to make every possible provision which
forethought could devise against all emergencies.
Besides her long-boat, which was kept between the two masts, the
"Pilgrim" had three whale-boats, two of them slung to the starboard and
larboard davits, and the third at the stern, outside the taffrail.
During the fishing season, when the crew was reinforced by a hired
complement of New Zealand whalemen, all three of these boats would be
brought at once into requisition, but at present the whole crew of the
"Pilgrim" was barely sufficient to man one of the three boats. Tom and
his friends were ready to volunteer their assistance, but any offers of
service from them were necessarily declined; the manipulation of a
whale-boat can only be entrusted to those who are experienced in the
work, as a false turn of the tiller or a premature stroke of the oar
may in a moment compromise the safety of the whole party. Thus
compelled to take all his trained sailors with him on his venturous
expedition, the captain had no alternative than to leave his apprentice
in charge of the schooner during his absence. Dick's choice would have
been very much in favour of taking a share in the whale-hunt, but he
had the good sense to know that the developed strength of a man would
be of far greater service in the boat, and accordingly without a murmur
he resigned himself to remain behind.
Of the five sailors who were to man the boat, there were four to take
the oars, whilst Howick the boatswain was to manage the oar at the
stern, which on these occasions generally replaces an ordinary rudder
as being quicker in action in the event of any of the side oars being
disabled. The post of harpooner was of course assigned to Captain Hull,
to whose lot it would consequently fall first to hurl his weapon at the
whale, then to manage the unwinding of the line to which the harpoon
was attached, and finally to kill the creature by lance-wounds when it
should emerge again from below the sea.
A method sometimes employed for commencing an attack is to place a sort
of small cannon on the bows or deck of the boat and to discharge from
it either a harpoon or some explosive bullets, which make frightful
lacerations on the body of the victim; but the "Pilgrim" was not
provided with apparatus of this description; not only are all the
contrivances of this kind very costly and difficult to manage, but the
fishermen generally are averse to innovations, and prefer the
old-fashioned harpoons. It was with these alone that Captain Hull was
now about to encounter the finback that was lying some four miles
distant from his ship.
The weather promised as favourably as could be for the enterprise. The
sea was calm, and the wind moreover was still moderating, so that there
was no likelihood of the schooner drifting away during the captain's
absence.
When the starboard whale-boat had been lowered, and the four sailors
had entered it, Howick passed a couple of harpoons down to them, and
some lances which had been carefully sharpened; to these were added
five coils of stout and supple rope, each 600 feet long, for a whale
when struck often dives so deeply that even these lengths of line
knotted together are found to be insufficient. After these implements
of attack had been properly stowed in the bows, the crew had only to
await the pleasure of their captain.
The "Pilgrim," before the sailors left her, had been made to heave to,
and the yards were braced so as to secure her remaining as stationary
as possible. As the time drew near for the captain to quit her, he gave
a searching look all round to satisfy himself that everything was in
order; he saw that the halyards were properly tightened, and the sails
trimmed as they should be, and then calling the young apprentice to his
side, he said,--
"Now, Dick, I am going to leave you for a few hours: while I am away, I
hope that it will not be necessary for you to make any movement
whatever. However, you must be on the watch. It is not very likely, but
it is possible that this finback may carry us out to some distance. If
so, you will have to follow; and in that case, I am sure you may rely
upon Tom and his friends for assistance."
One and all, the negroes assured the captain of their willingness to
obey Dick's instructions, the sturdy Hercules rolling up his capacious
shirt-sleeves as if to show that he was ready for immediate action.
The captain went on,--
"The weather is beautifully fine, Dick, and I see no prospect of the
wind freshening; but come what may, I have one direction to give you
which I strictly enforce. You must not leave the ship. If I want you to
follow us, I will hoist a flag on the boat-hook."
"You may trust me, sir," answered Dick; "and I will keep a good
look-out."
"All right, my lad; keep a cool head and a good heart. You are second
captain now, you know. I never heard of any one of your age being
placed in such a post; be a credit to your position!"
Dick blushed, and the bright flush that rose to his cheeks spoke more
than words.
"The lad may be trusted," murmured the captain to himself; "he is as
modest as he is courageous. Yes; he may be trusted."
It cannot be denied that the captain was not wholly without compunction
at the step he was taking; he was aware of the danger to which he was
exposing himself, but he beguiled himself with the persuasion that it
was only for a few hours; and his fisherman's instinct was very keen.
It was not only for himself; the desire upon the part of the crew was
almost irresistibly strong that every opportunity ought to be employed
for making the cargo of the schooner equal to her owner's expectations.
And so he finally prepared to start.
"I wish you all success!" said Mrs. Weldon.
"Many thanks!" he replied.
Little Jack put in his word,--
"And you will try and catch the whale without hurting him much?"
"All right, young gentleman," answered the captain; "he shall hardly
feel the tip of our fingers!"
"Sometimes," said Cousin Benedict, as if he had been pondering the
expedition in relation to his pet science, "sometimes there are strange
insects clinging to the backs of these great mammifers; do you think
you are likely to procure me any specimens?"
"You shall soon have the opportunity of investigating for yourself,"
was the captain's reply.
"And you, Tom; we shall be looking to you for help in cutting up our
prize, when we get it alongside," continued he.
"We shall be quite ready, sir," said the negro.
"One thing more, Dick," added the captain; "you may as well be getting
up the empty barrels out of the hold; they will be all ready."
"It shall be done, sir," answered Dick promptly.
If everything went well it was the intention that the whale after it
had been killed should be towed to the side of the schooner, where it
would be firmly lashed. Then the sailors with their feet in spiked
shoes would get upon its back and proceed to cut the blubber, from head
to tail, in long strips, which would first be divided into lumps about
a foot and a half square, the lumps being subsequently chopped into
smaller portions capable of being stored away in casks. The ordinary
rule would be for a ship, as soon as the flaying was complete, to make
its way to land where the blubber could be at once boiled down, an
operation by which it is reduced by about a third of its weight, and by
which it yields all its oil, the only portion of it which is of any
value. Under present circumstances, however, Captain Hull would not
think of melting down the blubber until his arrival at Valparaiso, and
as he was sanguine that the wind would soon set in a favourable
direction, he calculated that he should reach that port in less than
three weeks, a period during which his cargo would not be deteriorated.
The latest movement with regard to the "Pilgrim" had been to bring her
somewhat nearer the spot where the spouts of vapour indicated the
presence of the coveted prize. The creature continued to swim about in
the reddened waters, opening and shutting its huge jaws like an
automaton, and absorbing at every mouthful whole myriads of animalcula.
No one entertained a fear that it would try to make an escape; it was
the unanimous verdict that it was "a fighting whale," and one that
would resist all attacks to the very end.
As Captain Hull descended the rope-ladder and took his place in the
front of the boat, Mrs. Weldon and all on board renewed their good
wishes.
Dingo stood with his fore paws upon the taffrail, and appeared as much
as any to be bidding the adventurous party farewell.
When the boat pushed off, those who were left on board the "Pilgrim"
made their way slowly to the bows, from which the most extensive view
was to be gained.
The captain's voice came from the retreating boat,--
"A sharp look-out, Dick; a sharp look-out; one eye on us, one on the
ship!"
[Illustration: The Captain's voice came from the retreating boat. _Page
72_]
[Illustration: "I must get you to keep your eye upon that man" _Page
73._]
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the apprentice.
By his gestures the captain showed that he was under some emotion; he
called out again, but the boat had made such headway that it was too
far off for any words to be heard.
Dingo broke out into a piteous howl.
The dog was still standing erect, his eye upon the boat in the
distance. To the sailors, ever superstitious, the howling was not
reassuring. Even Mrs. Weldon was startled.
"Why, Dingo, Dingo," she exclaimed, "this isn't the way to encourage
your friends. Come here, sir; you must behave better than that!"
Sinking down on all fours the animal walked slowly up to Mrs. Weldon,
and began to lick her hand.
"Ah!" muttered old Tom, shaking his head solemnly, "he doesn't wag his
tail at all. A bad omen."
All at once the dog gave a savage growl.
As she turned her head, Mrs Weldon caught sight of Negoro making his
way to the forecastle, probably actuated by the general spirit of
curiosity to follow the maneuvers of the whale-boat. He stopped and
seized a handspike as soon as he saw the ferocious attitude of the dog.
The lady was quite unable to pacify the animal, which seemed about to
fly upon the throat of the cook, but Dick Sands called out loudly,--
"Down, Dingo, down!"
The dog obeyed; but it seemed to be with extreme reluctance that he
returned to Dick's side; he continued to growl, as if still remembering
his rage. Negoro had turned very pale, and having put down the
handspike, made his way cautiously back to his own quarters.
"Hercules," said Dick, "I must get you to keep your eye upon that man."
"Yes, I will," he answered, significantly clenching his fists.
Dick took his station at the helm, whence he kept an earnest watch upon
the whale-boat, which under the vigourous plying of the seamen's oars
had become little more than a speck upon the water.
CHAPTER VIII.
A CATASTROPHE.
Experienced whaleman as he was, Captain Hull knew the difficulty of the
task he had undertaken, he was alive to the importance of making his
approach to the whale from the leeward, so that there should be no
sound to apprize the creature of the proximity of the boat. He had
perfect confidence in his boatswain, and felt sure that he would take
the proper course to insure a favourable result to the enterprise.
"We mustn't show ourselves too soon, Howick," he said.
"Certainly not," replied Howick, "I am going to skirt the edge of the
discoloured water, and I shall take good care to get well to leeward."
"All right," the captain answered, and turning to the crew said, "now,
my lads, as quietly as you can."
Muffling the sound of their oars by placing straw in the rowlocks, and
avoiding the least unnecessary noise, the men skilfully propelled the
boat along the outline of the water tinged by the crustacea, so that
while the starboard oars still dipped in the green and limpid sea, the
larboard were in the deep-dyed waves, and seemed as though they were
dripping with blood.
"Wine on this side, water on that," said one of the sailors jocosely.
"But neither of them fit to drink," rejoined the captain sharply, "so
just hold your tongue!"
Under Howick's guidance the boat now glided stealthily on to the greasy
surface of the reddened waters, where she appeared to float as on a
pool of oil. The whale seemed utterly unconscious of the attack that
was threatening it, and allowed the boat to come nearer without
exhibiting any sign of alarm.
[Illustration: The whale seemed utterly unconscious of the attack that
was threatening it]
The wide circuit which the captain had thought it advisable to take had
the effect of considerably increasing the distance between his boat and
the "Pilgrim," whilst the strange rapidity with which objects at sea
become diminished in apparent magnitude, as if viewed through the wrong
end of a telescope, made the ship look farther away than she actually
was.
Another half-hour elapsed, and at the end of it the captain found
himself so exactly to leeward that the huge body of the whale was
precisely intermediate between his boat and the "Pilgrim." A closer
approach must now be made; every precaution must be used; but the time
had come to get sufficiently near for the harpoon to be discharged.
"Slowly, my men," said the captain, in a low voice; "slowly and softly!"
Howick muttered something that implied that the whale had ceased
blowing so hard, and that it was aware of their approach; the captain,
upon this, enjoined the most perfect silence, but urged his crew
onwards, until, in five or six minutes, they were within a cable's
length of the finback. Erect at the stern the boatswain stood, and
manoeuvred to get the boat as close as possible to the whale's left
flank, while he made it an object of special care to keep beyond the
reach of its formidable tail, one stroke of which could involve them
all in instantaneous disaster.
The manipulation of the boat thus left to the boatswain, the captain
made ready for the arduous effort that was before him. At the extreme
bow, harpoon in hand, with his legs somewhat astride so as to insure
his equilibrium, he stood prepared to plunge his weapon into the mass
that rose above the surface of the sea. By his side, coiled in a pail,
and with one end firmly attached to the harpoon, was the first of the
five lines which if the whale should dive to a considerable depth,
would have to be joined end to end, one after another.
"Are you ready, my lads?" said he, hardly above a whisper.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied Howick, speaking as gently as his master, and
giving a firmer grip to the rudder-oar that he held in his hands.
"Then, alongside at once," was the captain's order, which was promptly
obeyed, so that in a few minutes the boat was only about ten feet from
the body of the whale. The animal did not move. Was it asleep? In that
case there was hope that the very first stroke might be fatal. But it
was hardly likely. Captain Hull felt only too sure that there was some
different cause to be assigned for its remaining so still and
stationary; and the rapid glances of the boatswain showed that he
entertained the same suspicion. But it was no time for speculation; the
moment for action had arrived, and no attempt was made on either hand
to exchange ideas upon the subject.
Captain Hull seized his weapon tightly by the shaft, and having poised
it several times in the air, in order to make more sure of his aim, he
gathered all his strength and hurled it against the side of the finback.
"Backwater!" he shouted.
The sailors pushed back with all their might, and the boat in an
instant was beyond the range of the creature's tail.
And now the immoveableness of the animal was at once accounted for.
"See; there's a youngster!" exclaimed Howick.
And he was not mistaken. Startled by the blow of the harpoon the
monster had heeled over on to its side, and the movement revealed a
young whale which the mother had been disturbed in the act of suckling.
It was a discovery which made Captain Hull aware that the capture of
the whale would be attended with double difficulty; he knew; that she
would defend "her little one" (if such a term can be applied to a
creature that was at least twenty feet long) with the most determined
fury; yet having made what he considered a successful commencement of
the attack, he would not be daunted, nor deterred from his endeavour to
secure so fine a prize.
The whale did not, as sometimes happens, make a precipitate dash upon
the boat, a proceeding which necessitates the instant cutting of the
harpoon-line, and an immediate retreat, but it took the far more usual
course of diving downwards almost perpendicularly. It was followed by
its calf; very soon, however, after rising once again to the surface
with a sudden bound, it began swimming along under water with great
rapidity.
Before its first plunge Captain Hull and Howick had sufficient
opportunity to observe that it was an unusually large balaenoptera,
measuring at least eighty feet from head to tail, its colour being of a
yellowish-brown, dappled with numerous spots of a darker shade.
The pursuit, or what may be more aptly termed "the towing," of the
whale had now fairly commenced. The sailors had shipped their oars, and
the whale-boat darted like an arrow along the surface of the waves. In
spite of the oscillation, which was very violent, Howick succeeded in
maintaining equilibrium, and did not need the repeated injunctions with
which the agitated captain urged his boatswain to be upon his guard.
But fast as the boat flew along, she could not keep pace with the
whale, and so rapidly did the line run out that except proper care had
been taken to keep the bucket in which it was coiled filled with water,
the friction against the edge of the boat would inevitably have caused
it to take fire. The whale gave no indication of moderating its speed,
so that the first line was soon exhausted, and the second had to be
attached to its end, only to be run out with like rapidity. In a few
minutes more it was necessary to join on the third line; it was evident
that the whale had not been hit in a vital part, and so far from rising
to the surface, the oblique direction of the rope indicated that the
creature was seeking yet greater depths.
"Confound it!" exclaimed the captain; "it seems as if the brute is
going to run out all our line."
"Yes; and see what a distance the animal is dragging us away from the
'Pilgrim,'" answered Howick.
"Sooner or later, however," said Captain Hull, "the thing must come to
the surface; she is not a fish, you know."
"She is saving her breath for the sake of her speed," said one of the
sailors with a grin.
But grin as he might, both he and his companions began to look serious
when the fourth line had to be added to the third, and more serious
still when the fifth was added to the fourth. The captain even began to
mutter imprecations upon the refractory brute that was putting their
patience to so severe a test.
The last line was nearly all uncoiled, and the general consternation
was growing very great, when there was observed to be a slight
slackening in the tension.
"Thank Heaven!" cried the captain; "the beast has tired herself out at
last."
Casting his eye towards the "Pilgrim," he saw at a glance that she
could not be less than five miles to leeward. It was a long distance,
but when, according to his arrangement, he had hoisted the flag on the
boat-hook which was to be the signal for the ship to approach, he had
the satisfaction of seeing that Dick Sands and the negroes at once
began bracing the yards to get as near as possible to the wind. The
breeze, however, blew only in short, unsteady puffs, and it was only
too evident that the "Pilgrim" would have considerable difficulty in
working her way to the whale-boat, even if she succeeded at last.
Meantime, just as had been expected, the whale had risen to the surface
of the water, the harpoon still fixed firmly in her side. She remained
motionless, apparently waiting for her calf, which she had far
out-distanced in her mad career. Captain Hull ordered his men to pull
towards her as rapidly as they could, and on getting close up, two of
the sailors, following the captain's example, shipped their oars and
took up the long lances with which the whale was now to be attacked.
Howick held himself in readiness to sheer off quickly in the event of
the finback making a turn towards the boat.
"Now, my lads!" shouted the captain. "Look out! take a good aim! no
false shots! Are you ready, Howick?"
"Quite ready, captain," answered the boatswain, adding, "but it
perplexes me altogether to see the brute so quiet all of a sudden."
"It looks suspicious," said the captain; "but never mind; go on!
straight ahead!"
Captain Hull was becoming more excited every moment.
During the time the boat was approaching, the whale had only turned
round a little in the water without changing its position. It was
evidently still looking for its calf, which was not to be seen by its
side. All of a sudden it gave a jerk with its tail which carried it
some few yards away.
The men were all excited. Was the beast going to escape again? Was the
fatiguing pursuit all to come over a second time? Must not the chase be
abandoned? Would not the prize have to be given up?
But no: the whale was not starting on another flight; it had merely
turned so as to face the boat, and now rapidly beating the water with
its enormous fins, it commenced a frantic dash forwards.
"Look out, Howick, she's coming!" shouted Captain Hull.
The skilful boatswain was all on the alert; the boat swerved, as if by
instinct, so as to avoid the blow, and as the whale passed furiously
by, she received three tremendous thrusts from the lances of the
captain and the two men, who all endeavoured to strike at some vital
part. There was a sudden pause. The whale spouted up two gigantic
columns of blood and water, lashed its tail, and, with bounds and
plunges that were terrible to behold, renewed its angry attack upon the
boat.
None but the most determined of whalemen could fail to lose their head
under such an assault. Calm and collected, however, the crew remained.
Once again did Howick adroitly sheer aside, and once again did the
three lances do their deadly work upon the huge carcase as it rolled
impetuously past; but this time, so great was the wave that was caused
by the infuriated animal, that the boat was well-nigh full of water,
and in imminent danger of being capsized.
"Bale away, men!" cried the captain.
Putting down their oars, the other sailors set to work baling with all
their might. Captain Hull cut the harpoon-line, now no longer required,
because the whale, maddened with pain and grief for the loss of its
offspring, would certainly make no further attempt to escape, but would
fight desperately to the very end.
The finback was obviously bent on a third onslaught upon the boat,
which, being in spite of all the men's exertions still more than half
full of water, no longer answered readily to the rudder-oar.
No one thought of flight. The swiftest boat could be overtaken in a
very few bounds. There was no alternative but to face the encounter. It
was not long in coming. Their previous good fortune failed them. The
whale in passing caught the boat with such a violent blow from its
dorsal fin, that the men lost their footing and the lances missed their
mark.
"Where's Howick?" screamed the captain in alarm.
"Here I am, captain; all right!" replied the boatswain, who had
scrambled to his feet only to find that the oar with which he had been
steering was snapped in half.
"The rudder's smashed," he said.
"Take another, Howick; quick!" cried the captain.
But scarcely had he time to replace the broken oar, when a bubbling was
heard a few yards away from the boat, and the young whale made its
appearance on the surface of the sea. Catching sight of it instantly,
the mother made a fresh dash in its direction, the maternal instincts
were aroused, and the contest must become more deadly than ever.
Captain Hull looked towards the "Pilgrim," and waved his signal
frantically above his head. It was, however, with no hope of succour;
he was only too well aware that no human efforts could effectually
hasten the arrival of the ship. Dick Sands indeed had at once obeyed
the first summons: already the wind was filling the sails, but in
default of steam power her progress at best could not be otherwise than
slow. Not only did Dick feel convinced that it would be a useless waste
of time to lower a boat and come off with the negroes to the rescue,
but he remembered the strict orders he had received on no account to
quit the ship. Captain Hull, however, could perceive that the
apprentice had had the aft-boat lowered, and was towing it along, so
that it should be in readiness for a refuge as soon as they should get
within reach.
[Illustration: The boat was well nigh full of water, and in imminent
danger of being capsized]
But the whale, close at hand, demanded attention that could ill be
spared for the yet distant ship. Covering her young one with her body,
she was manifestly designing another charge full upon the boat.
"On your guard, Howick! sheer off!" bellowed the captain.
But the order was useless. The fresh oar that the boatswain had taken
to replace the broken one was considerably shorter, and consequently it
failed in lever-power. There was, in fact, no helm for the boat to
answer. The sailors saw the failure, and convinced that all was lost
uttered one long, despairing cry that might have been heard on board
the "Pilgrim." Another moment, and from beneath there came a tremendous
blow from the monster's tail that sent the boat flying in the air. In
fragments it fell back again into a sea that was lashed into fury by
the angry flapping of the finback's fins.
Was it not possible for the unfortunate men, bleeding and wounded as
they were, still to save themselves by clinging to some floating spar?
Captain Hull is indeed seen endeavouring to hoist the boatswain on to a
drifting plank. But all in vain. There is no hope. The whale, writhing
in the convulsions of death, returns yet once again to the attack; the
waters around the struggling sailors seethe and foam. A brief turmoil
follows as if there were the bursting of some vast waterspout.
In a quarter of an hour afterwards, Dick Sands, with the negroes,
reaches the scene of the catastrophe. All is still and desolate. Every
living object has vanished. Nothing is visible except a few fragments
of the whale-boat floating on the blood-stained water.
[Illustration: There is no hope.]
CHAPTER IX.
DICK'S PROMOTION.
The first feeling experienced by those on board the "Pilgrim," after
witnessing the terrible disaster was one of grief and horror at the
fearful death that had befallen the victims. Captain Hull and his men
had been swept away before their very eyes, and they had been powerless
to assist. Not one was saved; the schooner had reached the spot too
late to offer the least resistance to the attacks of the formidable
sea-monster.
When Dick and the negroes returned to the ship after their hopeless
search, with only the corroboration of their sad foreboding that
captain and crew had disappeared for ever, Mrs. Weldon sank upon her
knees; little Jack knelt beside her crying bitterly; and Dick, old Nan,
and all the negroes stood reverently around her whilst with great
devoutness the lady offered up the prayer of commendation for the souls
of the departing. All sympathized heartily with her supplications, nor
was there any diminution of their fervour when she proceeded to implore
that the survivors might have strength and courage for their own hour
of need.
The situation was indeed very grave. Here was the "Pilgrim" in the
middle of the Pacific, hundreds of miles away from the nearest land,
without captain, without crew, at the mercy of the wind and waves. It
was a strange fatality that had brought the whale across their path; it
was a fatality stranger still that had induced her captain, a man of no
ordinary prudence, to risk even his life for the sake of making good a
deficient cargo. It was an event almost unknown in the annals of
whale-fishing that not a single man in the whale-boat should escape
alive; nevertheless, it was all too true; and now, of all those left on
board, Dick Sands, the apprentice-boy of fifteen years of age, was the
sole individual who had the slightest knowledge of the management of a
ship; the negroes, brave and willing as they were, were perfectly
ignorant of seamen's duties; and, to crown all, here was a lady with
her child on board, for whose safety the commander of the vessel would
be held responsible.
Such were the facts which presented themselves to the mind of Dick as,
with folded arms, he stood gazing gloomily at the spot where Captain
Hull, his esteemed benefactor, had sunk to rise no more. The lad raised
his eyes sadly; he scanned the horizon with the vain hope that he might
perchance descry some passing vessel to which he could confide Mrs.
Weldon and her son; for himself, his mind was made up; he had already
resolved that nothing should induce him to quit the "Pilgrim" until he
had exhausted every energy in trying to carry her into port.
The ocean was all deserted. Since the disappearance of the whale
nothing had broken the monotonous surface either of sea or sky. The
apprentice, short as his experience was, knew enough to be aware that
he was far out of the common track alike of merchantmen or whalers; he
would not buoy himself up with false expectations; he would look his
situation full and fairly in the face; he would do his best, and trust
hopefully in guidance from the Power above.
Thus absorbed in his meditations he did not observe that he was not
alone. Negoro, who had gone below immediately after the catastrophe,
had again come back upon deck. What this mysterious character had felt
upon witnessing the awful calamity it would be impossible to say.
Although with his eye he had keenly taken in every detail of the
melancholy spectacle, every muscle of, his face had remained unmoved;
not a gesture, not a word betrayed the least emotion. Even if he had
heard, he had taken no part, nor evinced the faintest interest in Mrs.
Weldon's outpouring of prayer.
He had made his way to the stern, where Dick Sands was pondering over
the responsibilities of his own position, and stood looking towards the
apprentice without interrupting his reverie.
Catching sight of him, Dick roused himself in an instant, and said,--
"You want to speak to me?"
"I must speak either to the captain or the boatswain," answered the man.
"Negoro," said Dick sharply, "you know as well as I do, that they are
both drowned."
"Then where am I to get my orders from?" asked the fellow insolently.
"From me," promptly rejoined the apprentice.
"From you! from a boy of fifteen?"
"Yes, from me," repeated Dick, in a firm and resolute voice, looking at
the man until he recoiled under his gaze. "From _me_."
Mrs. Weldon had heard what passed.
"I wish every one on board to understand," she interposed, "that Dick
Sands is captain now. Orders must be taken from him, and they must be
obeyed."
Negoro frowned, bit his lip, sneered, and having muttered something
that was unintelligible, made his way back to his cabin.
Meantime, the schooner under the freshening breeze had been carried
beyond the shoal of the crustaceans. Dick cast his eye first at the
sails, then along the deck, and seemed to become more and more alive to
the weight of the obligation that had fallen upon him; but his heart
did not fail him; he was conscious that the hopes of the passengers
centred in himself, and he was determined to let them see that he would
do his best not to disappoint them.
Although he was satisfied of his capability, with the help of the
negroes, to manipulate the sails, he was conscious of a defect of the
scientific knowledge which was requisite for properly controlling the
ship's course. He felt the want of a few more years' experience. If
only he had had longer practice he would, he thought, have been as able
as Captain Hull himself, to use the sextant, to take the altitude of
the stars, to read the time from his chronometer; sun, moon, and
planets, should have been his guides; from the firmament, as from a
dial-plate, he would have gathered the teachings of his true position;
but all this was beyond him as yet; his knowledge went no further than
the use of the log and compass, and by these alone he must be content
to make his reckonings. But he kept up his courage, and did not permit
himself for one moment to despair of ultimate success.
Mrs. Weldon needed little penetration to recognize the thoughts which
were passing in the mind of the resolute youth.
"I see you have come to your decision, Dick," she said. "The command of
the ship is in your hands; no fear but that you will do your duty; and
Tom, and the rest of them, no doubt, will render you every assistance
in their power."
"Yes, Mrs. Weldon," rejoined Dick brightly; "and before long I shall
hope to make them good seamen. If only the weather lasts fair,
everything will go on well enough; and if the weather turns out bad, we
must not despond; we will get safe ashore."
He paused a moment and added reverently,--
"God helping us."
Mrs. Weldon proceeded to inquire whether he had any means of
ascertaining the "Pilgrim's" present position. He replied that the
ship's chart would at once settle that. Captain Hull had kept the
reckoning accurately right up to the preceding day.
"And what do you propose to do next?" she asked. "Of course you
understand that in our present circumstances we are not in the least
bound to go to Valparaiso if there is a nearer port which we could
reach."
"Certainly not," replied Dick; "and therefore it is my intention to
sail due east, as by following that course we are sure to come upon
some part of the American coast."
[Illustration: "Oh, we shall soon be on shore!"]
"Do your best, Dick, to let us get ashore somewhere."
"Never fear, madam," he answered; "as we get nearer land we shall be
almost sure to fall in with a cruiser which will put us into the right
track. If the wind does but remain in the north-west, and allow us to
carry plenty of sail, we shall get on famously."
He spoke with the cheery confidence of a good sailor who knows the good
ship beneath his feet. He had moved off a few steps to go and take the
helm, when Mrs. Weldon, calling him back, reminded him that he had not
yet ascertained the true position of the schooner. Dick confessed that
it ought to be done at once, and going to the captain's cabin brought
out the chart upon which the ill-fated commander had marked the
bearings the evening before. According to this dead-reckoning they were
in lat. 43° 35', S., and long. 164° 13', W.; and as the schooner had
made next to no progress during the last twenty-four eventful hours,
the entry might fairly be accepted as representing approximately their
present position.
To the lady's inexperienced eye, as she bent over the outspread chart,
it seemed that the land, as represented by the brown patch which
depicted the continent of South America extending like a barrier
between two oceans from Cape Horn to Columbia, was, after all, not so
very far distant; the wide space of the Pacific was not so broad but
that it would be quickly traversed.
"Oh, we shall soon be on shore!" she said.
But Dick knew better. He had acquaintance enough with the scale upon
which the chart was constructed to be aware that the "Pilgrim" herself
would have been a speck like a microscopic infusoria on the vast
surface of that sea, and that hundreds and hundreds of weary miles
separated her from the coast.
No time was to be lost. Contrary winds had ceased to blow; a fresh
north-westerly breeze had sprung up, and the _cirri_, or curl-cloud:
overhead indicated that for some time at least the direction of the
wind would be unchanged.
Dick appealed to the negroes, and tried to make them appreciate the
difficulty of the task that had fallen to his lot. Tom answered, in
behalf of himself and all the rest, that they were not only willing,
but anxious, to do all they could to assist him, saying that if their
knowledge was small, yet their arms were strong, and added that they
should certainly be obedient to every order he gave.
"My friends," said Dick, addressing them in reply; "I shall make it a
point of myself taking the helm as much as possible. But you know I
must have my proper rest sometimes. No one can live without sleep. Now,
Tom, I intend you to stand by me for the remainder of the day. I will
try and make you understand how to steer by the aid of the compass. It
is not difficult. You will soon learn. I shall have to leave you when I
go to my hammock for an hour or two."
"Is there nothing," said little Jack, "that I can learn to do?"
"Oh yes, Jack; you shall keep the wind in order," answered Dick,
smiling.
"That I will!" cried the child, clapping his hands, while the mother
drew him to her side.
"And now, my men," was Dick's first order to his crew, "we must brace
in the yards to sail fair. I will show you how."
"All right, Captain Sands; we are at your service," said old Tom
gravely.
[Illustration: "Oh yes, Jack; you shall keep the wind in order."]
CHAPTER X.
THE NEW CREW.
Dick Sands, captain of the "Pilgrim," would not lose a moment in
getting his ship under sail. His prime object was to land his
passengers safely at Valparaiso or some other American port, and to
accomplish his purpose it was in the first place necessary that he
should ascertain the schooner's rate of speed and the direction that
she was taking. This information was to be obtained readily enough by
means of the log and compass, and the result of each day's observations
would be entered regularly on the chart.
The log on board was a patent log, with a dial-plate and screw, by
means of which the distance that is travelled can be measured
accurately for any definite time; it was an instrument so simple that
the negroes were very soon taught its use. The slight error in the
reckoning caused by the action of the currents could only be rectified
by astronomical observations, which, as already has been stated, were
beyond Dick's attainments to make.
The idea more than once crossed Dick's mind whether he would not take
the "Pilgrim" back again to New Zealand; the distance was considerably
less than it was to America, and had the wind remained in the quarter
whence it had been blowing so long, it is more than likely he would
have determined to retrace his course. But as the wind had now veered
to the north-west, and there was every probability that it was settled
for a time, he came to the conclusion that he had better take advantage
of it and persevere in making his way towards the east. Accordingly he
lost no time in putting his ship before the wind.
On a schooner the fore-mast usually carries four square sails; on the
lower mast a fore-sail; on the top-mast a top-sail; on the top-gallant
a top-gallant-sail and a royal. The main-mast carries only a main-sail
and a top-sail. Between the masts upon the fore-stays can be hoisted a
triple tier of triangular sails; while the bowsprit with its jib-boom
will carry the three jibs.
The jibs, the main-sail, the main-top-sail and the staysails are all
managed with comparative ease, because they can be hoisted from the
deck without the necessity of ascending the mast to let fly the
robbins, by which they are fastened to the yards. With the sails on the
fore-mast it is altogether a more difficult business. In order either
to unfurl them, to take them in, or to reef them, it is necessary for a
man to clamber up by the shrouds, either to the fore-top, or to the
top-gallant cross-trees, and thence mounting by loose ropes, extended
below the yards, to hold on by one hand whilst he does his work with
the other. The operation requires alike the head and arm of an
experienced mariner; and when a fresh breeze has been blowing, it is a
casualty far from uncommon that a sailor, confused by the flapping of
the canvas and the pitching of the vessel, should be blown overboard in
the act. For the unpractised negroes the danger would necessarily be
very great. However, the wind at present was very moderate, and the
ship ploughed her way over the waves without any violent oscillations.
At the time when Dick Sands, in obedience to the signal he received
from Captain Hull, proceeded to make his way to the scene of the
disaster, the "Pilgrim," as she lay to, was carrying only her jibs,
main-sail, fore-sail, and fore-top-sail. In order, therefore, to put
her as near as possible to the wind, it had been merely necessary to
counter-brace the fore-sail yard, a manoeuvre in which the negroes had
rendered all the assistance that was necessary. It was requisite now to
do something more. To enable him to get straight before the wind Dick
wanted to increase his sail, and was desirous of hoisting the
top-gallant, the royal, the main-top-sail, and the stay-sails.
He was himself standing at the wheel.
"Now, my men," he shouted to the negroes; "I want your help. Do exactly
as I tell you. Bear away, Tom!"
Tom looked puzzled.
"Bear away! unfasten that rope, I mean. And, Bat, come along; do the
same as Tom."
The men did what they were bidden.
"That's right!" continued Dick, and calling to Hercules, said,--
"Now, Hercules; a good strong pull!"
To give such a direction to Hercules was somewhat imprudent; the
rigging creaked again under his giant strength.
"Gently, gently, my good fellow!" said Dick, laughing; "you will have
the mast down."
"I declare I hardly touched the rope," answered Hercules.
"Well, next time, you must only pretend to touch it," said Dick; and,
continuing his orders, shouted, "Now slacken! let fly! make fast! now
brace in the yards! all right! that's capital!"
The yards were loosened, the foresails turned slowly round, and,
catching the breeze, gave a slight impetus to the ship. Dick's next
orders were for the jib-sheets to be set free, and then he called the
men to the stern.
"Now," said he; "we must look to the main-mast; but take care,
Hercules, not to have it down."
"I will be as careful as possible, Mr. Dick," submissively replied
Hercules, as though he were afraid to commit himself to any rash
promise.
The manoeuvre was simple enough. The main-sheet was gradually
slackened, the great sail took the wind and added its powerful action
to that of the fore-sails. The main-top-sail was next brought to bear;
it was only clewed up, so that there was nothing to do except to pull
the halyards, haul it aboard the tack, and unfurl it. But in pulling at
the halyards the muscular energy of Hercules, which was supplemented by
that of Actæon, not to forget little Jack, who had volunteered his
assistance, proved to be overpowering, and the rope snapped in two. All
three of them, of course, fell flat upon the deck; but fortunately
neither of them was hurt, and Jack laughed heartily at his tumble as an
excellent joke.
"Up with you!" cried Captain Dick; "there's no harm done; splice the
rope, and haul away more gently next time."
It took but a few minutes to execute the order, and the "Pilgrim" was
soon sailing away rapidly with her head to the east.
"Well done, my friends!" said Dick, who had not left his post at the
helm; "you will be first-rate sailors before the end of the voyage."
"We shall do our best, I promise you, Captain Sands," replied Tom,
making it a point to give the young commander his proper title.
Mrs. Weldon also congratulated the new crew upon the success of their
first attempt.
"I believe it was Master Jack who broke that rope," said Hercules, with
a sly twinkle in his eye; "he is very strong, I can tell you."
Jack looked as though he thoroughly appreciated the compliment, and
evidenced his satisfaction by giving his huge friend a hearty shake of
the hand.
There were still several sails that were not yet set. Running well
before the wind as the "Pilgrim" was, Dick nevertheless felt that the
gallant, royal, and stay-sails, if brought into service, would
materially assist her progress, and he determined not to dispense with
their help. The stay-sails could be hoisted from below, but to bring
the gallant and royal into play demanded more experience than any of
his crew had had. Knowing that he could not entrust the task to them,
and yet resolved not to be baulked of his wish to set them, he
undertook the task himself. He first put Tom to the helm, showing him
how to keep the schooner's head in the right direction, and having
placed the other four at the royal and top-gallant halyards, proceeded
to mount the foremast.
[Illustration: All three of them fell flat upon the deck.]
To clamber up the foreshrouds and the top-shrouds on to the cross-trees
was mere child's play to the active apprentice. In a few minutes he had
unfurled the top-gallant-sail, mounted to the royal-yard, unfurled the
royal, again reached the cross-trees, and having caught hold of one of
the starboard backstays, had descended to the deck; there he gave the
necessary directions, and the two sails were made fast, and both yards
braced.
Nor did this content him. The stay-sails were set between the masts,
and thus the "Pilgrim" was running along, crowded to the full, with all
her canvas. The only additional sails which Dick could possibly have
employed would have been some studding-sails to larboard, but as the
setting of these was a matter of some difficulty, and they were not
always readily struck in the case of a sudden squall, he contented
himself without them.
Again he took his place at the helm. The breeze was manifestly
freshening, and the "Pilgrim," almost imperceptibly heeling to
starboard, glided rapidly along the surface of the water, leaving
behind her a wake, smooth and clean, that bore plain witness to the
true adjustment of her water-line.
"This is good progress, Mrs. Weldon," he said; "may Heaven grant the
wind and weather may continue thus favourable!"
The lady, in silence, shook the boy's hand; and then, worn-out with the
excitement of the past hours, went to her cabin, where she lay down and
fell into a troubled doze.
The new crew remained on watch. They were stationed on the forecastle,
in readiness to make any alteration which the sails might require, but
the wind was so steady and unshifting that no need arose for their
services.
And Cousin Benedict? all this time, where was he? and what had he been
doing?
He was sitting in his cabin; he had a magnifying-glass in his hand and
was studying an articulata of the order orthoptera, an insect of the
Blattidae family; its characteristics are a roundish body, rather long
wings, flat elytra, and a head hidden by the prothorax. He had been on
deck at the time of the calamity; the ill-fated captain with the crew
had been drowned before his very eyes; but he said nothing; not that he
was unmoved; to think that he was not struck with horror would be to
libel his kind and pitying nature. His sympathy was aroused, especially
for his cousin; he pressed her hand warmly as if he would assure her of
his truest commiseration; but he said nothing; he hurried off towards
his cabin; and who shall deny that it was to devise some wonderfully
energetic measures that he would take in consequence of this melancholy
event?
Passing the kitchen, however, he caught sight of Negoro in the act of
crushing a blatta, an American species of cockroach. He broke out into
a storm of invective, and in tones of indignation demanded the
surrender of the insect, which Negoro made with cool contempt. In a
moment Captain Hull and his partners in death were all forgotten; the
enthusiast had secured a prize with which he hastened to his own little
compartment, where he was soon absorbed in proving to his own
satisfaction, in opposition to the opinion of other entomologists, that
the blattae of the phoraspous species, which are remarkable for their
colours, differ in their habits from blattae of the ordinary sort.
For the remainder of the day perfect order reigned on board the
"Pilgrim." Though they were unable to shake off the sickening feeling
of horror roused by the frightful disaster, and felt that they had
sustained a startling shock, all the passengers seemed mechanically to
fall into their usual routine. Dick Sands, though avowedly at the
wheel, seemed to be everywhere, with an eye for every thing, and his
amateur crew obeyed him readily, and with the promptness of a willing
activity.
Negoro made no further overt attempt to question the young captain's
authority, but remained shut up in his kitchen. Dick made no secret of
his determination to place the cook in close confinement if he
exhibited any future sign of insubordination. Hercules was ready to
carry him off bodily to the hold, and old Nan was equally ready to take
his place in the cooking department. Probably Negoro was aware of all
this; at any rate he did not seem disposed to give any further cause of
offence at present.
[Illustration: Jack evidenced his satisfaction by giving his huge
friend a hearty shake of the hand.]
As the day advanced the wind continued to freshen; but no shifting of
the sails seemed necessary. The "Pilgrim" was running well. There was
no need to diminish her spread of canvas. Masts as solid and rigging as
strong as hers could stand a far heavier breeze.
As a general rule, it is deemed prudent in case of a squall to shorten
sail at night, and especially to take in gallants and royal; but the
weather prospects now were all so promising and satisfactory that Dick
persuaded himself he was under no necessity to take this precaution; he
rather felt himself bound to take the strongest measures he could to
expedite his reaching less unfrequented waters. He made up his mind,
however, not to leave the deck at all that night.
The young captain made every effort to get an approximate reckoning of
the schooner's progress. He heaved the log every half-hour and duly
registered the result of each successive examination. There were two
compasses on board; one in the binnacle, close under the eye of the
helmsman, the other, an inverted compass, being attached to the rafters
of the captain's cabin, so that without leaving his berth he could see
whether the man in charge of the wheel was holding a proper course.
Every vessel that is duly furnished for a lengthened voyage has always
not only two compasses but two chronometers, one to correct the other.
The "Pilgrim" was not deficient in this respect, and Dick Sands made a
strong point of admonishing his crew that they should take especial
care of the compasses, which under their present circumstances were of
such supreme importance.
A misfortune, however, was in store for them. On the night of the 12th,
while Dick was on watch, the compass in the cabin became detached from
its fastening and fell on the floor. The accident was not discovered
until the following morning. Whether the metal ferule that had attached
the instrument to the rafters had become rusty, or whether it had been
worn away by additional friction it seemed impossible to settle. All
that could be said was that the compass was broken beyond repair. Dick
was extremely grieved at the loss; but he did not consider that any one
was to be blamed for the mishap, and could only resolve for the future
to take extra care of the compass in the binnacle.
With the exception of this _contretemps_, everything appeared to go on
satisfactorily on board. Mrs. Weldon, reassured by Dick's confidence,
had regained much of her wonted calmness, and was besides ever
supported by a sincere religious spirit. She and Dick had many a long
conversation together. The ingenuous lad was always ready to take the
kind and intelligent lady into his counsel, and day by day would point
out to her on the chart the registers he made as the result of his dead
reckoning; he would then try and satisfy her that under the prevailing
wind there could be no doubt they must arrive at the coast of South
America: moreover, he said that, unless he was much mistaken, they
should sight the land at no great distance from Valparaiso.
Mrs. Weldon had, in truth, no reason to question the correctness of
Dick's representations; she owned that provided the wind remained in
the same favourable quarter, there was every prospect of their reaching
land in safety; nevertheless at times she could not resist the
misgiving that would arise when she contemplated what might be the
result of a change of wind or a breaking of the weather.
With the light-heartedness that belonged to his age, Jack soon fell
back into his accustomed pursuits, and was to be seen merrily running
over the deck or romping with Dingo. At times, it is true, he missed
the companionship of Dick; but his mother made him comprehend that now
that Dick, was captain, his time was too much occupied to allow him;
any leisure for play, and the child quite understood that he must not
interrupt his old friend in his new duties.
[Illustration: A light shadow glided stealthily along the deck.]
The negroes performed their work with intelligence, and seemed to make
rapid progress in the art of seamanship. Tom had been unanimously
appointed boatswain, and took one watch with Bat and Austin, the
alternate watch being discharged by Dick himself with Hercules and
Actæon. One of them steered so that the other two were free to watch at
the bows. As a general rule Dick Sands managed to remain at the wheel
all night; five or six hours' sleep in the daytime sufficed for him,
and during the time when he was lying down he entrusted the wheel to
Tom or Bat, who under his instructions had become very fair helmsmen.
Although in these unfrequented waters there was little chance of
running foul of any other vessel, Dick invariably took the precaution
of lighting his signals, carrying a green light to starboard and a red
light to port. His exertions, however, were a great strain upon him,
and sometimes during the night his fatigue would induce a heavy
drowsiness, and he steered, as it were, by instinct more than by
attention.
On the night of the 13th, he was so utterly worn-out that he was
obliged to ask Tom to relieve him at the helm whilst he went down for a
few hours' rest. Actæon and Hercules remained on watch on the
forecastle.
The night was very dark; the sky was covered with heavy clouds that had
formed in the chill evening air, and the sails on the top-masts were
lost in the obscurity. At the stern, the lamps on either side of the
binnacle cast a faint reflection on the metal mountings of the wheel,
leaving the deck generally in complete darkness.
Towards three o'clock in the morning Tom was getting so heavy with
sleepiness that he was almost unconscious. His eye, long fixed steadily
on the compass, lost its power of vision, and he fell into a doze from
which it would require more than a slight disturbance to arouse him.
Meantime a light shadow glided stealthily along the deck. Creeping
gradually up to the binnacle, Negoro put down something heavy that he
had brought in his hand. He stole a keen and rapid glance at the dial
of the compass, and made his way back, unseen and unheard as he had
come.
Almost immediately afterwards, Tom awakened from his slumber. His eye
fell instinctively on the compass, and he saw in a moment that the ship
was out of her proper course. By a turn of the helm he brought her head
to what he supposed to be the east. But he was mistaken. During his
brief interval of unconsciousness a piece of iron had been deposited
beneath the magnetic needle, which by this means had been diverted
thirty degrees to the right, and, instead of pointing due north,
inclined far towards north-east.
Consequently it came to pass that the "Pilgrim," supposed by her young
commander to be making good headway due east, was in reality, under the
brisk north-west breeze, speeding along towards the south-east.
CHAPTER XI.
ROUGH WEATHER.
During the ensuing week nothing particular occurred on board. The
breeze still freshened, and the "Pilgrim" made on the average 160 miles
every twenty-four hours. The speed was as great as could be expected
from a craft of her size.
Dick grew more and more sanguine in his anticipations that it could not
be long before the schooner would cross the track of the mail-packets
plying between the eastern and western hemispheres. He had made up his
mind to hail the first passing vessel, and either to transfer his
passengers, or what perhaps would be better still, to borrow a few
sailors, and, it might be, an officer to work the "Pilgrim" to shore.
He could not help, however, a growing sense of astonishment, when day
after day passed, and yet there was no ship to be signalled. He kept
the most vigourous look-out, but all to no purpose. Three voyages
before had he made to the whale-fisheries, and his experience made him
sure that he ought now to be sighting some English or American vessel
on its way between the Equator and Cape Horn.
Very different, however, was the true position of the "Pilgrim" from
what Dick supposed; not only had the ship been carried far out of her
direct course by currents, the force of which there were no means of
estimating, but from the moment when the compass had been tampered with
by Negoro, the steering itself had put the vessel all astray.
Unconscious of both these elements of disturbance, Dick Sands was
convinced that they were proceeding steadily eastwards, and was
perpetually encouraging Mrs. Weldon and himself by the assurance that
they must very soon arrive within view of the American coast; again and
again asserting that his sole concern was for his passengers, and that
for his own safety he had no anxiety.
"But think, Dick," said the lady, "what a position you would have been
in, if you had not had your passengers. You would have been alone with
that terrible Negoro; you would have been rather alarmed then."
"I should have taken good care to put it out of Negoro's power to do me
any mischief, and then I should have worked the ship by myself,"
answered the lad stoutly.
His very pluck gave Mrs. Weldon renewed confidence. She was a woman
with wonderful powers of endurance, and it was only when she thought of
her little son that she had any feeling of despair; yet even this she
endeavoured to conceal, and Dick's undaunted courage helped her.
Although the youth of the apprentice did not allow him to pretend to
any advanced scientific knowledge, he had the proverbial "weather-eye"
of the sailor. He was not only very keen in noticing any change in the
aspect of the sky, but he had learnt from Captain Hull, who was a
clever meteorologist, to draw correct conclusions from the indications
of the barometer; the captain, indeed, having taken the trouble to make
him learn by heart the general rules which are laid down in
Vorepierre's _Dictionnaire Illustré_.
There are seven of these rules:--
1. If after a long period of fine weather the barometer falls suddenly
and continuously, although the mercury may be descending for two or
three days before there is an apparent change in the atmosphere, there
will ultimately be rain; and the longer has been the time between the
first depression and the commencement of the rain, the longer the rain
may be expected to last.
2. _Vice versâ_, if after a long period of wet weather the barometer
begins to rise slowly and steadily, fine weather will ensue; and the
longer the time between the first rising of the mercury and the
commencement of the fine weather, the longer the fine weather may be
expected to last.
3. If immediately after the fall or rise of the mercury a change of
weather ensues, the change will be of no long continuance.[1]
4. A gradual rise for two or three days during rain forecasts fine
weather; but if there be a fall immediately on the arrival of the fine
weather, it will not be for long. This rule holds also conversely.
5. In spring and autumn a sudden fall indicates rain; in the summer, if
very hot, it foretells a storm. In the winter, after a period of steady
frost, a fall prognosticates a change of wind with rain and hail;
whilst a rise announces the approach of snow.
6. Rapid oscillations of the mercury either way are not to be
interpreted as indicating either wet or dry weather of any duration;
continuance of either fair or foul weather is forecast only by a
prolonged and steady rise or fall beforehand.
7. At the end of autumn, after a period of wind and rain, a rise may be
expected to be followed by north wind and frost.
Not merely had Dick got these rules by rote, but he had tested them by
his own observations, and had become singularly trustworthy in his
forecasts of the weather. He made a point of consulting the barometer
several times every day, and although to all appearances the sky
indicated that the fine weather was settled, it did not escape his
observation that on the 20th the mercury showed a tendency to fall.
Dick knew that rain, if it came, would be accompanied by wind; an
opinion in which he was very soon confirmed by the breeze freshening,
till the air was displaced at the rate of nearly sixty feet a second,
or more[1] than forty miles an hour; and he recognized the necessity of
at once shortening sail. He had already used the precaution to take in
the royal, the main-top-sail, and the flying jib, but he now at once
resolved likewise to take in the top-gallant, and to have a couple of
reefs in the foretop-sail.
[Footnote 1: This and several of the other rules are concisely
concentrated in the couplet--
Long foretold, long last;
Short notice, soon past.]
To an inexperienced crew, the last operation was far from easy; but
there was no symptom of shrinking from it. Followed by Bat and Austin,
Dick mounted the rigging of the foremast, and with little trouble got
to the top-gallant. Had the weather been less unpromising he would have
been inclined to leave the two yards as they were, but anticipating the
ultimate necessity of being obliged to lower the mast, he unrigged
them, and let them down to the deck; he knew well enough that in the
event of the gale rising as he expected, the lowering of the mast as
well as the shortening of sail would contribute to diminish the strain
and stress upon the vessel.
It was the work of two hours to get this preliminary operation over.
There still remained the task of taking in the reefs in the top-sail.
The "Pilgrim" in one respect differed from most modern vessels. She did
not carry a double foretop, which would very much have diminished the
difficulty attending the reefing. It was consequently necessary to
proceed as before; to mount the rigging, by main force to haul in the
flapping canvas, and to make the fastening secure. But critical and
dangerous as the task was, it was successfully accomplished, and the
three young men, having descended safely to the deck, had the
satisfaction of seeing the schooner run easily before the wind, which
had further increased till it was blowing a stiff gale.
For three days the gale continued brisk and hard, yet without any
variation in its direction. But all along the barometer was falling;
the mercury sank to 28° without symptom of recovery. The sky was
becoming overcast; clouds, thick and lowering, obscured the sun, and it
was difficult to make out where it rose or where it set. Dick did his
best to keep up his courage, but he could not disguise from himself
that there was cause for uneasiness. He took no more rest than was
absolutely necessary, and what repose he allowed himself he always took
on deck; he maintained a calm exterior, but he was really tortured with
anxiety.
[Illustration: For half an hour Negoro stood motionless.]
Although the violence of the wind seemed to lull awhile, Dick did not
suffer himself to be betrayed into any false security; he knew only too
well what to expect, and after a brief interval of comparative quiet,
the gale returned and the waves began to run very high.
About four o'clock one afternoon, Negoro (a most unusual thing for him)
emerged from his kitchen, and skulked to the fore. Dingo was fast
asleep, and did not make his ordinary growl by way of greeting to his
enemy. For half an hour Negoro stood motionless, apparently surveying
the horizon. The heavy waves rolled past; they were higher than the
condition of the wind warranted; their magnitude witnessed to a storm
passing in the west, and there was every reason to suspect that the
"Pilgrim" might be caught by its violence.
Negoro looked long at the water; he then raised his eyes and scanned
the sky. Above and below he might have read threatening signs. The
upper stratum of cloud was travelling far more rapidly than that
beneath, an indication that ere long the masses of vapour would
descend, and, coming in contact with the inferior current, would change
the gale into a tempest, which probably would increase to a hurricane.
It might be from ignorance or it might be from indifference, but there
was no indication of alarm on the face of Negoro; on the other hand
there might be seen a sort of smile curling on his lip. After thus
gazing above him and around him, he clambered on to the bowsprit, and
made his way by degrees to the very gammonings; again he rested and
looked about him as if to explore the horizon; after a while he
clambered back on deck, and soon stealthily retreated to his own
quarters.
No doubt there was much to cause concern in the general aspect of the
weather; but there was one point on which they never failed to
congratulate each other;--that the direction of the wind had never
changed, and consequently must be carrying them in the desired course.
Unless a storm should overtake them, they could continue their present
navigation without peril, and with every prospect of finding a port
upon the shore where they might put in. Such were their mutual and
acknowledged hopes; but Dick secretly felt the misgiving lest, without
a pilot, he might in his ignorance fail to find a harbour of refuge.
Nevertheless, he would not suffer himself to meet trouble half-way, and
kept up his spirits under the conviction that if difficulties came he
should be strengthened to grapple with them or make his escape.
Time passed on, and the 9th of March arrived without material change in
the condition of the atmosphere. The sky remained heavily burdened, and
the wind, which occasionally had abated for a few hours, had always
returned with at least its former violence. The occasional rising of
the mercury never encouraged Dick to anticipate a permanent improvement
in the weather, and he discerned only too plainly that brighter times
at present were not to be looked for.
A startling alarm had more than once been caused by the sudden breaking
of storms in which thunderbolts had seemed to fall within a few cables'
lengths of the schooner. On these occasions the torrents of rain had
been so heavy that the ship had appeared to be in the very midst of a
whirlpool of vapour, and it was impossible to see a yard ahead.
The "Pilgrim" pitched and rolled frightfully. Fortunately Mrs. Weldon
could bear the motion without much personal inconvenience, and
consequently was able to devote her attention to her little boy, who
was a miserable sufferer. Cousin Benedict was as undisturbed as the
cockroaches he was investigating; he hardly noticed the increasing
madness of either wind or wave, but went on with his studies as calmly
as if he were in his own comfortable museum at San Francisco. Moreover,
it was fortunate that the negroes did not suffer to any great degree
from sea-sickness, and consequently were able to assist their captain
in his arduous task, Dick was far too experienced a sailor himself to
be inconvenienced by any oscillations of the vessel, however violent.
The "Pilgrim" still made good headway, and Dick, although he was aware
that ultimately it would probably be necessary again to shorten sail,
was anxious to postpone making any alteration before he was absolutely
obliged. Surely, he reasoned with himself, the land could not now be
far away; he had calculated his speed; he had kept a diligent reckoning
on the chart; surely, the shore must be almost in sight. He would not
trust his crew to keep watch; he was aware how easily their
inexperienced eyes would be misled, and how they might mistake a
distant cloud-bank for the land they coveted to see; he kept watch for
himself; his own gaze was ever fixed upon the horizon; and in the
eagerness of his expectation he would repeatedly mount to the
cross-trees to get a wider range of vision.
But land was not to be seen.
Next day as Dick was standing at the bow, alternately considering the
canvas which his ship carried and the aspect presented by the sky, Mrs.
Weldon approached him without his noticing her. She caught some
muttered expressions of bewilderment that fell from his lips, and asked
him whether he could see anything.
He lowered the telescope which he had been holding in his hand, and
answered,--
"No, Mrs. Weldon, I cannot see anything; and it is this Hiat perplexes
me so sorely. I cannot understand why we have not already come in sight
of land. It is nearly a month since we lost our poor dear captain.
There has been no delay in our progress; no stoppage in our rate of
speed. I cannot make it out."
"How far were we from land when we lost the captain?"
"I am sure I am not far out in saying that we were scarcely more than
4500 miles from the shores of America."
"And at what rate have we been sailing?"
"Not much less than nine score knots a day."
"How long, then, do you reckon, Dick, we ought to be in arriving at the
coast?"
"Under six-and-twenty days," replied Dick.
He paused before he spoke again, then added,--
"But what mystifies me even more than our failing to sight the land is
this: we have not come across a single vessel; and yet vessels without
number are always traversing these seas."
"But do you not think," inquired Mrs. Weldon, "that you have made some
error in your reckoning? Is your speed really what you have supposed?"
"Impossible, madam," replied Dick, with an air of dignity, "impossible
that I should have fallen into error. The log has been consulted,
without fail, every half-hour. I am about to have it lowered now, and I
will undertake to show you that we are at this present moment making
ten miles an hour, which would give considerably over 200 miles a day."
He then called out to Tom,--
"Tom, lower the log!"
The old man was quite accustomed to the duty. The log was fastened to
the line and thrown overboard. It ran out regularly for about
five-and-twenty fathoms, when all at once the line slackened in Tom's
hand.
"It is broken!" cried Tom; "the cord is broken!"
"Broken?" exclaimed Dick: "good heavens! we have lost the log!"
It was too true. The log was gone.
Tom drew in the rope. Dick took it up and examined it. It had not
broken at its point of union with the log; it had given way in the
middle, at a place where the strands in some unaccountable way had worn
strangely thin.
Dick's agony of mind, in spite of his effort to be calm, was intensely
great. A suspicion of foul play involuntarily occurred to him. He knew
that the rope had been of first-rate make; he knew that it had been
quite sound when used before; but he could prove nothing; he could only
mourn over the loss which committed him to the sole remaining compass
as his only guide.
That compass, too, although he knew it not, was misleading him entirely!
Mrs. Weldon sighed as she witnessed the grief which the loss manifestly
caused poor Dick, but in purest sympathy she said nothing, and retired
thoughtfully to her cabin.
It was no longer possible to reckon the rate of progress, but there was
no doubt that the "Pilgrim" continued to maintain at least her previous
speed.
Before another four-and-twenty hours had passed the barometer had
fallen still lower, and the wind was threatening to rise to a velocity
of sixty miles. Resolved to be on the safe side, Dick determined not
only to strike the top-gallant and the main-top-mast, but to take in
all the lower sails. Indeed, he began to be aware that no time was to
be lost. The operation would not be done in a moment, and the storm was
approaching. Dick made Tom take the helm; he ascended the shrouds with
Bat, Austin, and Actæon, making Hercules stay on deck to slacken the
halyards as required.
By dint of arduous exertion, and at no little risk of being thrown
overboard by the rolling of the ship, they succeeded in lowering the
two masts; the fore-top-sail was then reefed, and the fore-sail
entirely struck, so that the only canvas that the schooner carried was
the reefed fore-top and the one stay. These, however, made her run with
a terrific speed.
Early on the morning of the 12th, Dick noted with alarm that the
barometer had not ceased to fall, and now registered only 27.9°. The
tempest had continued to increase, till it was unsafe for the ship to
carry any canvas at all. The order was given for the top-sail to be
taken in, but it was too late; a violent gust carried the sail
completely away, and Austin, who had made his way to the fore-top-yard,
was struck by the flying sheet; and although he was not seriously hurt,
he was obliged at once to return to deck.
Dick Sands became more uneasy than ever; he was tortured by
apprehensions of reefs outlying the shore, to which he imagined he must
now be close; but he could discern no rocks to justify his fears, and
returned to take his place at the helm.
The next moment Negoro appeared on deck; he pointed mysteriously to the
far-off horizon, as though he discerned some object, as a mountain,
there; and looking round with a malevolent smile, immediately left the
deck, and went back to his cabin.
[Illustration: Under bare poles]
CHAPTER XII.
HOPE REVIVED.
The wind had now increased to a hurricane; it had veered to the
south-west, and had attained a velocity little short of ninety miles an
hour. On land, the most substantial of erections could with difficulty
have withstood its violence, and a vessel anchored in a roadstead must
have been torn from its moorings and cast ashore. The memorable storm
that had devastated the Island of Guadaloupe on the 25th of July, 1825,
when heavy cannon were lifted from their carriages, could scarcely have
been more furious, and it was only her mobility before the blast and
the solidity of her structure that gave the "Pilgrim" a hope of
surviving the tempest.
A few minutes after the topsail had been lost, the small jib was
carried away. Dick Sands contemplated the possibility of throwing out a
storm-jib, made of extra strong canvas, as a means of bringing the ship
a little more under his control, but abandoned the idea as useless. It
was, therefore, under bare poles that the "Pilgrim" was driven along;
but in spite of the lack of canvas, the hull, masts, and rigging, gave
sufficient purchase to the wind, and the progress of the schooner was
prodigiously rapid; sometimes, indeed, she seemed to be literally
lifted from the water, and scudded on, scarcely skimming its surface.
The rolling was fearful. Enormous waves followed in quick succession,
and as they travelled faster than the ship, there was the perpetual
risk of one of them catching her astern. Without sail, there were no
means of escaping that peril by increase of speed; the adroit
management of the helm was the only chance of avoiding the hazardous
shocks, and even this repeatedly failed.
To prevent his being washed overboard Dick lashed himself to his place
at the wheel by a rope round his waist, and made Tom and Bat keep close
at hand, ready to give him assistance, in case of emergency. Hercules
and Actæon, clinging to the bitt, kept watch at the bow. Mrs. Weldon
and her party, at Dick's special request, remained inside the stern
cabin, although the lady, for her own part, would much rather have
stayed on deck; she had, however, yielded to the representation that
she would thus be exposing herself to unnecessary danger.
The hatchways were hermetically closed, and it was to be hoped that
they would withstand the heavy sea that was dashing over them; only let
one of them give way to the pressure, and the vessel must inevitably
fill and founder. It was a matter of congratulation that the stowage
had been done very carefully, so that notwithstanding all the lurchings
of the ship, the cargo did not shift in the least.
The heroic young commander had still further curtailed his periods of
rest, and it was only at the urgent entreaty of Mrs. Weldon, who feared
that he would exhaust himself by his vigilance, that he was induced to
lie down for a few hours' sleep on the night of the 13th.
After Tom and Bat had been left alone at the wheel they were, somewhat
to their surprise, joined by Negoro, who very rarely came aft. He
seemed inclined to enter into conversation, but found little
encouragement to talk on the part either of Tom or his son. All at once
a violent roll of the ship threw him off his feet, and he would have
gone overboard if he had not been saved by falling against the binnacle.
Old Tom was in a frantic state of alarm lest the compass should be
broken. He uttered a cry of consternation so loud that it roused Dick
from the light slumber into which he had fallen in the cabin, and he
rushed to the deck. By the time he had reached the stern, Negoro had
not only regained his feet, but had managed successfully to conceal the
bit of iron which he had again extracted from beneath the binnacle
where he had himself laid it. Now that the wind had shifted to the
south-west, it suited his machinations that the magnetic needle should
indicate its true direction.
[Illustration: Quick as lightning, Dick Sands drew a revolver from his
pocket.]
"How now?" asked Dick eagerly; "what is the meaning of all this noise?"
Tom explained how the cook had fallen against the binnacle, and how he
had been terrified lest the compass should be injured. Dick's heart
sank at the thought of losing his sole remaining compass, and his
anxiety betrayed itself in his countenance as he knelt down to examine
its condition; but he breathed freely as he ascertained that the
instrument had sustained no damage; by the dim light he saw the needle
resting on its two concentric circles, and felt his fears at once
relieved; of course, he was quite unconscious of the fact that the
removal of the bit of iron had made the magnet change its pointing. The
incident, however, excited his misgiving; although he felt that Negoro
could not be held responsible for an accidental fall, the very presence
of the man in such a place at such a time perplexed him.
"And what brings you here, this hour of the night?" he asked.
"That's not your business," retorted Negoro insolently.
"It is my business," replied Dick resolutely; "and I mean to have an
answer; what brought you here?"
Negoro answered sullenly that he knew of no rule to prevent his going
where he liked and when he liked.
"No rule!" cried Dick; "then I make the rule now. From this time
forward, I make the rule that you shall never come astern. Do you
understand?"
Roused from his accustomed doggedness, the man seemed to make a
threatening movement. Quick as lightning, Dick Sands drew a revolver
from his pocket.
"Negoro, one act, one word of insubordination, and I blow out your
brains!"
Negoro had no time to reply; before he could speak he was bowed down
towards the deck by an irresistible weight. Hercules had grasped him by
the shoulder.
"Shall I put him overboard, captain? he will make a meal for the
fishes; they are not very particular what they eat," said the negro,
with a grin of contempt.
"Not yet," quietly answered Dick.
The giant removed his hand, and Negoro stood upright again, and began
to retreat to his own quarters, muttering, however, as he passed
Hercules,--
"You cursed nigger! You shall pay for this!"
The discovery was now made that the wind apparently had taken a sudden
shift of no less than forty-five degrees; but what occasioned Dick the
greatest perplexity was that there was nothing in the condition of the
sea to correspond with the alteration in the current of the air;
instead of being directly astern, wind and waves were now beating on
the larboard. Progress in this way must necessarily be full of danger,
and Dick was obliged to bring his ship up at least four points before
he got her straight before the tempest.
The young captain felt that he must be more than ever on the alert; he
could not shake off the suspicion that Negoro had been concerned in the
loss of the first compass, and had some further designs upon the
second. Still he was utterly at a loss to imagine what possible motive
the man could have for so criminal an act of malevolence, as there was
no plausible reason to be assigned why he should not be as anxious as
all the rest to reach the coast of America. The suspicion continued,
however, to haunt him, and when he mentioned it to Mrs. Weldon he found
that a similar feeling of distrust had agitated her, although she, like
himself, was altogether unable to allege a likely motive why the cook
should contemplate so strange an act of mischief. It was determined
that a strict surveillance should be kept upon all the fellow's
movements.
Negoro, however, manifested no inclination to disobey the captain's
peremptory order; he kept strictly to his own part of the ship; but as
Dingo was now regularly quartered on the stern, there was a tolerably
sure guarantee that the cook would not be found wandering much in that
direction.
A week passed, and still the tempest showed no signs of abating; the
barometer continued to fall, and not once did a period of calmer
weather afford an opportunity of carrying sail. The "Pilgrim" still
made her way northeast. Her speed could not be less than two hundred
miles in twenty-four hours. But no land appeared. Vast as was the range
of the American continent, extending for 120 degrees between the
Atlantic and the Pacific, it was nowhere to be discerned. Was he
dreaming? was he mad? Dick would perpetually ask himself: had he been
sailing in a wrong direction? had he failed to steer aright?
But no: he was convinced there was no error in his steering. Although
he could not actually see it for the mist, he knew that day after day
the sun rose before him, and that it set behind him. Yet he was
constrained in bewilderment to ask, what had become of those shores of
America upon which, when they came in sight, there was only too great a
fear the ship should be dashed? what had become of them? where were
they? whither had this incessant hurricane driven them? why did not the
expected coast appear?
To all these bewildering inquiries Dick could find no answer except to
imagine that his compass had misled him. Yet he was powerless to put
his own misgivings to the test; he deplored more than ever the
destruction of the duplicate instrument which would have checked his
registers. He studied his chart; but all in vain; the position in which
he found himself as the result of Negoro's treachery, seemed to baffle
him the more, the more he tried to solve the mystery.
The days were passing on in this chronic state of anxiety, when one
morning about eight o'clock, Hercules, who was on watch at the fore,
suddenly shouted,--
"Land!"
Dick Sands had little reliance upon the negro's inexperienced eye, but
hurried forward to the bow.
"Where's the land?" he cried; his voice being scarcely audible above
the howling of the tempest.
"There! look there!" said Hercules, nodding his head and pointing over
the larboard side, to the north-east.
Dick could see nothing.
Mrs. Weldon had heard the shout. Unable to restrain her interest, she
had left her cabin and was at Dick's side. He uttered an expression of
surprise at seeing her, but could not hear anything she said, as her
voice was unable to rise above the roaring of the elements; she stood,
her whole being as it were concentrated in the power of vision, and
scanned the horizon in the direction indicated by Hercules. But all to
no purpose.
Suddenly, however, after a while, Dick raised his hand.
"Yes!" he said; "yes; sure enough, yonder is land."
He clung with excitement to the netting; and Mrs Weldon, supported by
Hercules, strained her eyes yet more vehemently to get a glimpse of a
shore which she had begun to despair of ever reaching.
Beyond a doubt an elevated peak was there. It must be about ten miles
to leeward. A break in the clouds soon left it more distinct. Some
promontory it must be upon the American coast. Without sails, of
course, the "Pilgrim" had no chance of bearing down direct upon it; but
at least there was every reason to believe that she would soon reach
some other portion of the shore; perhaps before noon, certainly in a
few hours, they must be close to land.
The pitching of the ship made it impossible for Mrs. Weldon to keep
safe footing on the deck; accordingly, at a sign from Dick, Hercules
led her back again to her cabin.
Dick did not remain long at the bow, but went thoughtfully back to the
wheel.
He had, indeed, a tremendous responsibility before him. Here was the
land, the land for which they had longed so eagerly; and now that their
anticipations were on the point of being realized, what was there, with
a hurricane driving them on towards it, to prevent that land being
their destruction? What measures could he take to prevent the schooner
being dashed to pieces against it?
[Illustration: "There! look there!"]
At the very moment when the promontory was just abreast of them, Negoro
appeared on deck; he nodded to the peak familiarly, as he might have
saluted a familiar friend, and retired as stealthily as he had come.
Two hours later, and the promontory was lying to the larboard wake.
Dick Sands had never relaxed his watchfulness, but he had failed to
discover any further indications of a coast-line. His perplexity could
only increase; the horizon was clear; the Andes ought to be distinct;
they would be conspicuous twenty miles or more away. Dick took up his
telescope again and again; he scrutinized the eastern horizon with
minutest care; but there was nothing to be seen; and as the afternoon
waned away the last glimpse had been taken of the promontory that had
awakened their expectation; it had vanished utterly from their gaze; no
indication of shore could be seen from the "Pilgrim's" deck.
Dick Sands uttered a sigh of mingled amazement and relief. He went into
Mrs. Weldon's cabin, where she was standing with her party.
"It was only an island!" he said; "only an island!"
"How? why? what island? what do you mean?" cried Mrs. Weldon
incredulously; "what island can it be?"
"The chart perhaps will tell us," replied Dick; and hurrying off to his
own cabin, he immediately returned with the chart in his hands.
After studying it attentively for a few minutes, he said,--
"There, Mrs. Weldon; the land we have just passed, I should suppose
must be that little speck in the midst of the Pacific. It must be
Easter Island. At least, there seems to be no other land which possibly
it could be."
"And do you say," inquired Mrs. Weldon, "that we have left it quite
behind us?"
"Yes, entirely; almost to windward."
Mrs. Weldon commenced a searching scrutiny of the map that was
outspread before her.
"How far is this," she said, after bending a considerable time over the
chart; "how far is this from the coast of America?"
"Thirty-five degrees," answered Dick; "somewhere about 2500 miles."
"What ever do you mean?" rejoined the lady astonished; "if the
'Pilgrim' is still 2500 miles from shore, she has positively made no
progress at all. Impossible!"
In thoughtful perplexity, Dick passed his hand across his brow. He did
not know what to say. After an interval of silence, he said,--
"I have no account to give for the strange delay. It is inexplicable to
myself, except upon that one hypothesis, which I cannot resist, that
the readings of the compass, somehow or other, have been wrong."
He relapsed into silence. Then, brightening up, he added,--
"But, thank God! at least we have now the satisfaction of knowing where
we really are; we are no longer lost upon the wide Pacific; if only
this hurricane will cease, long as the distance seems, we are on our
proper course to the shores of America."
The tone of confidence with which the youthful captain spoke had the
effect of inspiring new hope into all who heard him; their spirits
rose, and to their sanguine mood it seemed as if they were approaching
to the end of all their troubles, and had hardly more to do than to
await the turning of a tide to bring them into a glad proximity to port.
Easter Island, of which the true name is Vai-Hoo, was discovered by
David in 1686 and visited by Cook and Lapérouse. It lies in lat. 27°
S., and long. 112 E.; consequently, it was evident that during the
raging of the hurricane the schooner had been driven northwards no less
than fifteen degrees. Far away, however, as she was from shore, the
wind could hardly fail within ten days to carry her within sight of
land; and then, if the storm had worn itself out, (as probably it
would,) the "Pilgrim" would again hoist sail, and make her way into
some port with safety. Anyhow, the discovery of his true position
restored a spirit of confidence to Dick Sands, and he anticipated the
time when he should no longer be drifting helplessly before the storm.
To say the truth, the "Pilgrim" had suffered very little from the
prolonged fury of the weather. The damage she had sustained was limited
to the loss of the topsail and the small jib, which could be easily
replaced. The caulking of the seams remained thoroughly sound, and no
drop of water had found its way into the hold. The pumps, too, were
perfectly free. Dick Sands did not fear for the stability of his ship;
his only anxiety was lest the weather should not moderate in time. Only
let the wind subside, and the schooner once more would be under his
control; but he never forgot that the ordering of the winds and waves
were in the hands of the Great Disposer of all.
CHAPTER XIII.
LAND AT LAST.
It was not long before Dick's sanguine expectations were partially
realized, for on the very next day, which was the 27th, the barometer
began to rise, not rapidly, but steadily, indicating that its elevation
would probably continue. The sea remained exceedingly rough, but the
violence of the wind, which had veered slightly towards the west, had
perceptibly diminished. The tempest had passed its greatest fury, and
was beginning to wear itself out.
Not a sail, however, could yet be hoisted; the smallest show of canvas
would have been carried away in an instant; nevertheless Dick hoped
that before another twenty-four hours were over, the "Pilgrim" might be
able to carry a storm-jib.
In the course of the night the wind moderated still more and the
pitching of the ship had so far diminished that the passengers began to
reappear on deck. Mrs. Weldon was the first to leave her enforced
imprisonment. She was anxious to speak to Dick, whom she might have
expected to find looking pale and wan after his almost superhuman
exertions and loss of sleep. But she was mistaken; however much the lad
might suffer from the strain in after-years, at present he exhibited no
symptoms of failing energy.
"Well, Captain Dick, how are you?" she said, as she advanced towards
him holding out her hand.
Dick smiled.
"You call me captain, Mrs. Weldon," he answered, "but you do not seem
disposed to submit implicitly to captain's orders. Did I not direct you
to keep to your cabin?"
[Illustration: "You have acquitted yourself like a man."]
"You did," replied the lady; "but observing how much the storm had
abated, I could not resist the temptation to disobey you."
"Yes, madam, the weather is far more promising; the barometer has not
fallen since yesterday morning, and I really trust the worst is over
now."
"Thank Heaven!" she replied, and after a few moments' silence, she
added.--
"But now, Dick, you must really take some rest; you may perhaps not
know how much you require it; but it is absolutely necessary."
"Rest!" the boy repeated; "rest! I want no rest. I have only done my
duty, and it will be time enough for me to concern myself about my own
rest, when I have seen my passengers in a place of safety."
"You have acquitted yourself like a man," said Mrs. Weldon; "and you
may be assured that my husband, like myself, will never forget the
services you have rendered me. I shall urge upon him the request which
I am sure he will not refuse, that you shall have your studies
completed, so that you may be made a captain for the firm."
Tears of gratitude rose to Dick's eyes. He deprecated the praise that
was lavished upon him, but rejoiced in the prospect that seemed opening
upon his future. Mrs. Weldon assured him that he was dear as a son to
her, and pressed a gentle kiss upon his forehead. The lad felt that he
was animated, if need be, to yet greater hardships in behalf of his
benefactors, and resolved to prove himself even more worthy of their
confidence.
By the 29th, the wind had so far moderated that Dick thought he might
increase the "Pilgrim's" speed by hoisting the foresail and topsail.
"Now, my men, I have some work for you to-day," he said to the negroes
when he came on deck at daybreak.
"All right, captain," answered Hercules, "we are growing rusty for want
of something to do."
"Why didn't you blow with your big mouth?" said little Jack; "you could
have beaten the wind all to nothing."
Dick laughed, and said, "Not a bad idea, Jack; if ever we get becalmed,
we must get Hercules to blow into the sails."
"I shall be most happy," retorted the giant, and he inflated his huge
checks till he was the very impersonation of Boreas himself.
"But now to work!" cried Dick; "we have lost our topsail, and we must
contrive to hoist another. Not an easy matter, I can tell you."
"I dare say we shall manage it," replied Actæon.
"We must do our best," said Tom.
"Can't I help?" inquired Jack.
"Of course you can," answered Dick; "run along to the wheel, and assist
Bat."
Jack strutted off, proud enough of his commission.
Under Dick's directions, the negroes commenced their somewhat difficult
task. The new topsail, rolled up, had first of all to be hoisted, and
then to be made fast to the yard; but so adroitly did the crew carry
out their orders, that in less than an hour the sail was properly set
and flying with a couple of reefs. The foresail and second jib, which
had been taken down before the tempest, were hoisted again, and before
ten o'clock the "Pilgrim" was running along under the three sails which
Dick considered were as much as it was prudent to carry. Even at her
present speed, the schooner, he reckoned, would be within sight of the
American shore in about ten days. It was an immense relief to him to
find that she was no longer at the mercy of the waves, and when he saw
the sails properly set he returned in good spirits to his post at the
helm, not forgetting to thank the temporary helmsman for his services,
nor omitting his acknowledgment to Master Jack, who received the
compliment with becoming gravity.
Although the clouds continued to travel all the next day with great
rapidity they were very much broken, and alternately the "Pilgrim" was
bathed in sunlight and enveloped in vapours, which rolled on towards
the east. As the weather cleared, the hatchways were opened in order to
ventilate the ship, and the outer air was allowed again to penetrate
not only the hold, but the cabin and crew's quarters The wet sails were
hung out to dry, the deck was washed down, for Dick Sands was anxious
not to bring his ship into port without having "finished her toilet,"
and he found that his crew could very well spare a few hours daily to
get her into proper trim.
[Illustration: They both examined the outspread chart.]
Notwithstanding the loss of the log, Dick had sufficient experience to
be able to make an approximate estimate of the schooner's progress, and
after having pointed out to Mrs. Weldon what he imagined was the
"Pilgrim's" true position, he told her that it was his firm impression
that land would be sighted in little more than a week.
"And upon what part of South America do you reckon we are likely to
find ourselves?" she asked.
"That is more than I dare venture to promise," replied Dick; "but I
should think somewhere hereabouts."
He was pointing on the chart to the long shore-line of Chili and Peru.
They both examined the outspread chart with still closer attention.
"Here, you see," resumed Dick, "here is the island we have just left;
we left it in the west; the wind has not shifted; we must expect to
come in sight of land, pretty nearly due east of it. The coast has
plenty of harbours. From any one of them you will be able easily to get
to San Francisco. You know, I dare say, that the Pacific Navigation
Company's steamers touch at all the principal ports. From any of them
you will be sure to get direct passage to California."
"But do you mean," asked Mrs. Weldon, "that you are not going yourself
to take the schooner to San Francisco?"
"Not direct," replied the young captain; "I want to see you safe on
shore and satisfactorily on your homeward way. When that is done, I
shall hope to get competent officers to take the ship to Valparaiso,
where she will discharge her cargo, as Captain Hull intended; and
afterwards I shall work our way back to San Francisco."
"Ah, well; we will see all about that in due time." Mrs. Weldon said,
smiling; and, after a short pause, added, "At one time, Dick, you
seemed to have rather a dread of the shore."
"Quite true," answered Dick; "but now I am in hopes we may fall in with
some passing vessel; we want to have a confirmation as to our true
position. I cannot tell you how surprised I am that we have not come
across a single vessel. But when we near the land we shall be able to
get a pilot."
"But what will happen if we fail to get a pilot?" was Mrs. Weldon's
inquiry. She was anxious to learn how far the lad was prepared to meet
any emergency.
With unhesitating promptness Dick replied,--
"Why, then, unless the weather takes the control of the ship out of my
hands, I must patiently follow the coast until I come to a harbour of
refuge. But if the wind should freshen, I should have to adopt other
measures."
"What then, Dick, what then?" persisted Mrs. Weldon.
The boy's brow knitted itself together in resolution, and he said
deliberately,--
"I should run the ship aground."
Mrs. Weldon started.
"However," Dick continued, "there is no reason to apprehend this. The
weather has mended and is likely to mend. And why should we fear about
finding a pilot? Let us hope all will be well."
Mrs. Weldon at least had satisfied herself on one point. She had
ascertained that although Dick did not anticipate disaster, yet he was
prepared in the case of emergency to resort to measures from which any
but the most experienced seaman would shrink.
But although Dick's equanimity had been successful in allaying any
misgivings on Mrs. Weldon's part, it must be owned that the condition
of the atmosphere caused him very serious uneasiness.
The wind remained uncomfortably high, and the barometer gave very
ominous indications that it would ere long freshen still more. Dick
dreaded that the time was about to return in which once again he must
reduce his vessel to a state of bare poles; but so intense was his
aversion to having his ship so wrested as it were from his own
management, that he determined to carry the topsail till it was all but
carried away by the force of the blast. Concerned, moreover, for the
safety of his masts, the loss of which he acknowledged must be fatal,
he had the shrouds well overhauled and the backstays considerably
tightened.
More than once another contingency occurred to his mind, and gave him
some anxiety. He could not overlook the possibility of the wind
changing all round. What should he do in such a case? He would of
course endeavour by all means to get the schooner on by incessant
tacking; but was there not the certainty of a most hazardous delay? and
worse than this, was there not a likelihood of the "Pilgrim" being once
again driven far out to sea?
Happily these forebodings were not realized. The wind, after chopping
about for several days, at one time blowing from the north, and at
another from the south, finally settled down into a stiffish gale from
the west, which did nothing worse than severely strain the masts.
In this weary but hopeful endurance time passed on. The 5th of April
had arrived. It was more than two months since the "Pilgrim" had
quitted New Zealand; it was true that during the first three weeks of
her voyage she had been impeded by protracted calms and contrary winds;
but since that time her speed had been rapid, the very tempests had
driven her forwards with unwonted velocity; she had never failed to
have her bow towards the land, and yet land seemed as remote as ever;
the coast line was retreating as they approached it. What could be the
solution of the mystery?
From the cross-trees one or other of the negroes was kept incessantly
on the watch. Dick Sands himself, telescope in hand, would repeatedly
ascend in the hope of beholding some lofty peak of the Andes emerging
from the mists that hung over the horizon. But all in vain.
False alarms were given more than once. Sometimes Tom, sometimes
Hercules, or one of the others would be sure that a distant speck they
had descried was assuredly a mountain ridge; but the vapours were
continually gathering in such fantastic forms that their unexperienced
eyes were soon deceived, and they seldom had to wait long before their
fond delusion was all dispelled.
At last, the expected longing was fulfilled. At eight o'clock one
morning the mists seemed broken up with unusual rapidity, and the
horizon was singularly clear. Dick had hardly gone aloft when his voice
rung out,--
"Land! Land ahead!"
As if summoned by a spell, every one was on deck in an instant: Mrs.
Weldon, sanguine of a speedy end to the general anxiety; little Jack,
gratified at a new object of curiosity; Cousin Benedict, already
scenting a new field for entomological investigation; old Nan; and the
negroes, eager to set foot upon American soil; all, with the exception
of Negoro, all were on deck; but the cook did not stir from his
solitude, or betray any sympathy with the general excitement.
Whatever hesitation there might be at first soon passed away; one after
another soon distinguished the shore they were approaching, and in half
an hour there was no room for the most sceptical to doubt that Dick was
right. There was land not far ahead.
A few miles to the east there was a long low-lying coast; the chain of
the Andes ought to be visible; but it was obscured, of course, by the
intervening clouds.
The "Pilgrim" bore down rapidly towards the land, and in a short time
its configuration could be plainly made out. Towards the north-east the
coast terminated in a headland of moderate height sheltering a kind of
roadstead; on the south-east it stretched out in a long and narrow
tongue. The Andes were still wanting to the scene; they must be
somewhere in the background; but at present, strange to say, there was
only a succession of low cliffs with some trees standing out against
the sky. No human habitation, no harbour, not even an indication of a
river-mouth, could anywhere be seen.
The wind remained brisk, and the schooner was driving directly towards
the land, with sails shortened as seemed desirable; but Dick realized
to himself the fact that he was utterly incapable of altering her
course. With eager eyes he scrutinized his situation. Straight ahead
was a reef over which the waves were curling, and around which the surf
must be tremendous. It could hardly be more than a mile away. The wind
seemed brisker than before.
After gazing awhile, Dick seemed to have come to a sudden resolution.
He went quickly aft and took the helm. He had seen a little cove, and
had made up his mind that he would try and make his way into it. He did
not speak a word; he knew the difficulty of the task he had undertaken;
he was aware from the white foam, that there was shallow water on
either hand; but he kept the secret of the peril to himself, and sought
no counsel in coming to his fixed resolve.
Dingo had been trotting up and down the deck. All at once he bounded to
the fore, and broke out into a piteous howl. It roused Dick from his
anxious cogitations. Was it possible that the animal recognized the
coast? It almost seemed as if it brought back some painful associations.
The howling of the dog had manifestly attracted Negoro's attention; the
man emerged from his cabin, and, regardless of the dog, stood close to
the netting; but although he gazed at the surf, it did not seem to
occasion him any alarm. Mrs. Weldon, who was watching him, fancied she
saw a flush rise to his face, which involuntarily suggested the thought
to her mind that Negoro had seen the place before.
Either she had no time or no wish to express what had struck her, for
she did not mention it to Dick, who, at that moment, left the helm, and
came and stood beside her.
Dick looked as if he were taking a lingering farewell of the cove past
which they were being carried beyond his power to help.
In a few moments he turned round to Mrs. Weldon, and said quietly,--
"Mrs. Weldon, I am disappointed. I hoped to get the schooner into
yonder cove; but there is no chance now; if nothing is done, in half an
hour she will be upon that reef. I have but one alternative left. I
must run her aground. It will be utter destruction to the ship, but
there is no choice. Your safety is the first and paramount
consideration."
"Do you mean that there is no other course to be taken, Dick?"
"None whatever," said Dick decidedly.
"It must be as you will," she said.
Forthwith ensued the agitating preparations for stranding. Mrs. Weldon,
Jack, Cousin Benedict, and Nan were provided with life belts, while
Dick and the negroes made themselves ready for being dashed into the
waves. Every precaution that the emergency admitted was duly taken.
Mrs. Weldon was entrusted to the special charge of Hercules; Dick made
himself responsible for doing all he could for little Jack; Cousin
Benedict, who was tolerably calm, was handed over to Bat and Austin;
while Actæon promised to look after Nan. Negoro's nonchalance implied
that he was quite capable of shifting for himself.
Dick had the forethought also to order about a dozen barrels of their
cargo to be brought in front, so that when the "Pilgrim" struck, the
oil escaping and floating on the waves would temporarily lull their
fury, and make smoother water for the passage of the ship.
After satisfying himself that there was no other measure to be taken to
ameliorate the peril, Dick Sands returned to the helm. The schooner was
all but upon the reef, and only a few cables' length from the shore;
her starboard quarter indeed was already bathed in the seething foam,
and any instant the keel might be expected to grate upon the
under-lying rock. Presently a change of colour in the water was
observed; it revealed a passage between the rocks. Dick gave the wheel
a turn; he saw the chance of getting aground nearer to the shore than
he had dared to hope, and he made the most of it. He steered the
schooner right into the narrow channel; the sea was furious, and dashed
vehemently upon the crags on either hand.
[Illustration: The sea was furious, and dashed vehemently upon the
crags on either hand]
"Now, my lads!" he cried to his crew, "now's your time; out with your
oil! let it run!"
Ready for the order, the negroes poured out the oil, and the raging
waters were stilled as if by magic. A few moments more and perchance
they would rage more vehemently than ever. But for the instant they
were lulled.
The "Pilgrim," meanwhile, had glided onwards, and made dead for the
adjacent shore. There was a sudden shock. Caught by an enormous wave
the schooner had been hurled aground; her masts had fallen, fortunately
without injury to any one on board. But the vessel had parted
amidships, and was foundering; the water was rushing irresistibly into
the hold.
The shore, however, was not half a cable's length away; there was a
low, dark ridge of rocks that was united to the beach; it afforded
ample means of rescue, and in less than ten minutes the "Pilgrim's"
captain, crew, and passengers were all landed, with their lives, at the
foot of the overhanging cliff.
CHAPTER XIV.
ASHORE.
Thus, after a voyage of seventy-four days, the "Pilgrim" had stranded.
Mrs. Weldon and her fellow-voyagers joined in thanksgiving to the kind
Providence that had brought them ashore, not upon one of the solitary
islands of Polynesia, but upon a solid continent, from almost any part
of which there would be no difficulty in getting home.
The ship was totally lost. She was lying in the surf a hopeless wreck,
and few must be the hours that would elapse before she would be broken
up in scattered fragments; it was impossible to save her.
Notwithstanding that Dick Sands bewailed the loss of a valuable ship
and her cargo to the owner, he had the satisfaction of knowing that he
had been instrumental in saving what was far more precious, the lives
of the owner's wife and son.
It was impossible to do more than hazard a conjecture as to the part of
the South American coast on which the "Pilgrim" had been cast. Dick
imagined that it must be somewhere on the coast of Peru; after sighting
Easter Island, he knew that the united action of the equatorial current
and the brisk wind must have had the effect of driving the schooner far
northward, and he formed his conclusion accordingly. Be the true
position, however, what it might, it was all important that it should
be accurately ascertained as soon as possible. If it were really in
Peru, he would not be long in finding his way to one of the numerous
ports and villages that lie along the coast.
But the shore here was quite a desert. A narrow strip of beach, strewn
with boulders, was enclosed by a cliff of no great height, in which, at
irregular intervals, deep funnels appeared as chasms in the rock. Here
and there a gentle slope led to the top.
About a quarter of a mile to the north was the mouth of a little river
which had not been visible from the sea. Its banks were overhung by a
number of "rhizophora," a species of mangrove entirely distinct from
that indigenous to India. It was soon ascertained that the summit of
the cliff was clothed by a dense forest, extending far away in
undulations of verdure to the mountains in the background. Had Cousin
Benedict been a botanist, he could not have failed to find a new and
interesting field for his researches; there were lofty baobabs (to
which an extraordinary longevity has often been erroneously ascribed),
with bark resembling Egyptian syenite; there were white pines,
tamarinds, pepper-plants of peculiar species, and numerous other plants
unfamiliar to the eye of a native of the North; but, strange to say,
there was not a single specimen of the extensive family of palms, of
which more than a thousand varieties are scattered in profusion in so
many quarters of the globe.
Above the shore hovered a large number of screeching birds, mostly of
the swallow tribe, their black plumage shot with steelly blue, and
shading off to a light brown at the top of the head. Now and then a few
partridges of a greyish colour rose on wing, their necks entirely bare
of feathers: the fearless manner in which the various birds all allowed
themselves to be approached made Mrs. Weldon and Dick both wonder if
the shores upon which they had been thrown were not so deserted that
the sound of fire-arms was not known.
On the edge of the reefs some pelicans (of the species known as
_pelicanus minor_) were busily filling their pouches with tiny fish,
and some gulls coming in from the open sea began to circle round the
wreck: with these exceptions not a living creature appeared in sight.
Benedict, no doubt, could have discovered many entomological novelties
amongst the foliage, but these could give no more information than the
birds as to the name of their habitat. Neither north, nor south, nor
towards the forest, was there trace of rising smoke, or any footprint
or other sign to indicate the presence of a human being.
Dick's surprise was very great. He knew that the proximity of a native
would have made Dingo bark aloud; but the dog gave no warning; he was
running backwards and forwards, his tail lowered and his nose close to
the ground; now and again he uttered a deep growl.
"Look at Dingo!" said Mrs. Weldon; "how strange he is! he seems to be
trying to discover a lost scent."
After watching the dog for a time, she spoke again:--
"Look, too, at Negoro! he and the dog seem to be on the same purpose!"
"As to Negoro," said Dick, "I cannot concern myself with him now; he
must do as he pleases; I have no further control over him; his service
expires with the loss of the ship."
Negoro was in fact walking to and fro, surveying the shore with the air
of a man who was trying to recall some past experience to his
recollection. His dogged taciturnity was too well known for any one to
think of questioning him; every one was accustomed to let him go his
own way, and when Dick noticed that he had gone towards the little
river, and had disappeared behind the cliff, he thought no more about
him. Dingo likewise had quite forgotten his enemy, and desisted from
his growling.
The first necessity for the shipwrecked party was to find a temporary
shelter where they might take some refreshment. There was no lack of
provisions; independently of the resources of the land, the ebbing tide
had left upon the rocks the great bulk of the "Pilgrim's" stores, and
the negroes had already collected several kegs of biscuit, and a number
of cases of preserved meat, besides a variety of other supplies. All
that they rescued they carefully piled up above high-water mark. As
nothing appeared to be injured by the sea-water, the victualling of the
party all seemed to be satisfactorily secure for the interval which
must elapse (and they all believed it would not be long,) before they
reached one of the villages which they presumed were close at hand.
Dick, moreover, took the precaution of sending Hercules to get a small
supply of fresh water from the river hard by, and the good-natured
fellow returned carrying a whole barrel-full on his shoulder.
[Illustration: Surveying the shore with the air of a man who was trying
to recall some past experience]
Plenty of fuel was lying about, and whenever they wanted to light a
fire they were sure of having an abundance of dead wood and the roots
of the old mangroves. Old Tom, an inveterate smoker, always carried a
tinder box in his pocket; this had been too tightly fastened to be
affected by the moisture, and could always produce a spark upon
occasion.
Still they must have a shelter. Without some rest it was impossible to
start upon a tour of exploration; accordingly, all interests were
directed towards ascertaining where the necessary repose could be
obtained.
The honour of discovering where the desired retreat could be found fell
to the lot of little Jack. Trotting about at the foot of the cliff, he
came upon one of those grottoes which are constantly being found
hollowed out in the rock by the vehement action of the waves in times
of tempest.
"Here, look here!" cried the child; "here's a place!"
"Well done, Jack!" answered his mother; "your lucky discovery is just
what we wanted. If we were going to stay here any time we should have
to do the same as the Swiss Family Robinson, and name the spot after
you!"
It was hardly more than twelve or fourteen feet square, and yet the
grotto seemed to Jack to be a gigantic cavern. But narrow as its limits
were, it was capacious enough to receive the entire party. It was a
great satisfaction to Mrs. Weldon to observe that it was perfectly dry,
and as the moon was just about her first quarter there was no
likelihood of a tide rising to the foot of the cliff. At any rate, it
was resolved that they might take up their quarters there for a few
hours.
Shortly after one o'clock the whole party were seated upon a carpet of
seaweed round a repast consisting of preserved meat, biscuit, and water
flavoured with a few drops of rum, of which Bat had saved a quart
bottle from the wreck. Even Negoro had returned and joined the group;
probably he had not cared to venture alone along the bank of the stream
into the forest. He sat listening, as it seemed indifferently, to the
various plans for the future that were being discussed, and did not
open his mouth either by way of remonstrance or suggestion.
Dingo was not forgotten, and had his share of food duly given him
outside the grotto, where he was keeping guard.
When the meal was ended, Mrs. Weldon, passing her arms round Jack, who
was lounging half asleep with excitement and fatigue at her side, was
the first to speak.
"My dear Dick," she said, "in the name of us all, let me thank you for
the services you have rendered us in our tedious time of difficulty. As
you have been our captain at sea, let me beg you to be our guide upon
land. We shall have perfect confidence in your judgment, and await your
instructions as to what our next proceedings shall be."
All eyes were turned upon Dick. Even Negoro appeared to be roused to
curiosity, as if eager to know what he had to say.
Dick did not speak for some moments. He was manifestly pondering what
step he should advise. After a while he said,--
"My own impression, Mrs. Weldon, is that we have been cast ashore upon
one of the least-frequented parts of the coast of Peru, and that we are
near the borders of the Pampas. In that case I should conclude that we
are at a considerable distance from any village. Now, I should
recommend that we stay here altogether for the coming night. To-morrow
morning, two of us can start off on an exploring expedition. I
entertain but little doubt that natives will be met with within ten or
a dozen miles."
Mrs. Weldon looked doubtful. Plainly she thought unfavourably of the
project of separating the party. She reflected for a considerable time,
and then asked,--
"And who is to undertake the task of exploring?"
Prompt was Dick's answer:--
"Tom and I."
"And leave us here?" suggested the lady.
"Yes; to take care of you, there will be Hercules, Bat, Actæon and
Austin. Negoro, too, I presume, means to remain here," said Dick,
glancing towards the cook.
"Perhaps," replied Negoro, sparing as ever of his words.
"We shall take Dingo," added Dick; "likely enough he may be useful."
At the sound of his name the dog had entered the grotto. A short bark
seemed to testify his approval of Dick's proposal.
Mrs. Weldon was silent. She looked sad and thoughtful. It was hard to
reconcile herself to the division of the party. She was aware that the
separation would not be for long, but she could not suppress a certain
feeling of nervousness. Was it not possible that some natives,
attracted by the wreck, would assault them in hopes of plunder?
Every argument he could think of, Dick brought forward to reassure the
lady. He told her that the Indians were perfectly harmless, and
entirely different to the savage tribes of Africa and Polynesia; there
was no reason to apprehend any mischief, even if they should chance to
encounter them, which was itself extremely unlikely. No doubt the
separation would have its inconveniences, but they would be
insignificant compared with the difficulty of traversing the country
_en masse_. Tom and he would have far greater freedom if they went
alone, and could make their investigations much more thoroughly.
Finally he promised that if within two days they failed to discover
human habitation, they would return to the grotto forthwith.
"I confess, however," he added, "that I have little expectation of
being able to ascertain our true position, until I have penetrated some
distance into the country."
There was nothing in Dick's representations but what commanded Mrs.
Weldon's assent as reasonable. It was simply her own nervousness, she
acknowledged, that made her hesitate; but it was only with extreme
reluctance that she finally yielded to the proposition.
"And what, Mr. Benedict, is your opinion of my proposal?" said Dick,
turning to the entomologist.
"I?" answered Cousin Benedict, looking somewhat bewildered, "Oh, I am
agreeable to anything. I dare say I shall find some specimens. I think
I will go and look at once."
"Take my advice, and don't go far away," replied Dick.
"All right; I shall take care of myself."
"And don't be bringing back a lot of mosquitoes," said old Tom
mischievously.
With his box under his arm, the naturalist left the grotto.
Negoro followed almost immediately. He did not take the same direction
as Benedict up the cliff, but for the second time bent his steps
towards the river, and proceeded along its bank till he was out of
sight.
It was not long before Jack's exertions told upon him, and he fell into
a sound sleep. Mrs. Weldon having gently laid him on Nan's lap,
wandered out and made her way to the water's edge. She was soon joined
by Dick and the negroes, who wanted to see whether it was possible to
get to the "Pilgrim," and secure any articles that might be serviceable
for future use. The reef on which the schooner had stranded was now
quite dry, and the carcase of the vessel which had been partially
covered at high water was lying in the midst of _debris_ of the most
promiscuous character. The wide difference between high and low-water
mark caused Dick Sands no little surprise. He knew that the tides on
the shores of the Pacific were very inconsiderable; in his own mind,
however, he came to the conclusion that the phenomenon was to be
explained by the unusually high wind that had been blowing on the coast.
Not without emotion could Mrs. Weldon, or indeed any of them, behold
the unfortunate ship upon which they had spent so many eventful days,
lying dismasted on her side. But there was little time for sentiment.
If they wished to visit the hull before it finally went to pieces there
must be no delay.
Hoisting themselves by some loose rigging that was hanging from the
deck, Dick and several of the negroes contrived to make their way into
the interior of the hull. Dick left his men to gather together all they
could in the way of food and drink from the store-room, and himself
went straight to the stern cabin, into which the water had not
penetrated. Here he found four excellent Purday's Remington rifles and
a hundred cartridges; with these he determined to arm his party, in
case they should be attacked by Indians. He also chose six of the
strongest of the cutlasses that are used for slicing up dead whales;
and did not forget the little toy gun which was Jack's special
property. Unexpectedly he found a pocket-compass, which he was only too
glad to appropriate. What a boon it would have been had he discovered
it earlier! The ship's charts in the fore-cabin were too much injured
by water to be of any further service. Nearly everything was either
lost or spoiled, but the misfortune was not felt very acutely because
there was ample provision for a few days, and it seemed useless to
burden themselves with more than was necessary. Dick hardly needed Mrs.
Weldon's advice to secure all the money that might be on board, but
after the most diligent search he failed to discover more than five
hundred dollars. This was a subject of perplexity. Mrs. Weldon herself
had had a considerably larger sum than this, and Captain Hull was known
always to keep a good reserve in hand. There was but one way to solve
the mystery. Some one had been beforehand to the wreck. It could not be
any of the negroes, as not one of them had for a moment left the
grotto. Suspicion naturally fell upon Negoro, who had been out alone
upon the shore. Morose and cold-blooded as the man was, Dick hardly
knew why he should suspect him of the crime of theft; nevertheless, he
determined to cross-examine him, and, if need be, to have him searched,
as soon as he came back.
[Illustration: Not without emotion could Mrs. Weldon, or indeed any of
them, behold the unfortunate ship.]
The day wore onwards to its close. The sun was approaching the vernal
equinox, and sank almost perpendicularly on to the horizon. Twilight
was very short, and the rapidity with which darkness came on confirmed
Dick in his belief that they had got ashore at some spot lying between
the tropic of Capricorn and the equator.
They all assembled in the grotto again for the purpose of getting some
sleep.
"Another rough night coming on!" said Tom, pointing to the heavy clouds
that hung over the horizon.
"No doubt, Tom!" answered Dick, "and I think we may congratulate
ourselves on being safe out of our poor ship."
As the night could not be otherwise than very dark, it was arranged
that the negroes should take their turns in keeping guard at the
entrance of the grotto. Dingo also would be upon the alert.
Benedict had not yet returned. Hercules shouted his name with the full
strength of his capacious lungs, and shortly afterwards the
entomologist was seen making his way down the face of the cliff at the
imminent risk of breaking his neck. He was in a great rage. He had not
found a single insect worth having, scorpions, scolopendra, and other
myriapoda were in the forest in abundance; but not one of these of
course could be allowed a place in his collection.
"Have I come six thousand miles for this?" he cried: "have I endured
storm and shipwreck only to be cast where not a hexapod is to be seen?
The country is detestable! I shall not stay in it another hour!"
Ever gentle to his eccentricities, Mrs. Weldon soothed him as she would
a child, she told him that he had better take some rest now, and most
likely he would have better luck to-morrow.
Cousin Benedict had hardly been pacified when Tom remarked that Negoro
too had not returned.
"Never mind!" said Bat, "his room is as good as his company."
"I cannot say that I altogether think so. The man is no favourite of
mine, but I like him better under my own eye," said Mrs. Weldon.
"Perhaps he has his own reasons for keeping away," said Dick, and
taking Mrs. Weldon aside, he communicated to her his suspicions of the
fellow's dishonesty.
He found that she coincided with him in her view of Negoro's conduct;
but she did not agree with him in his proposal to have him searched at
once. If he returned, she should be convinced that he had deposited the
money in some secret spot; and as there would be no proof of his guilt,
it would be better to leave him, at least for a time, uninterrogated.
[Illustration: The entomologist was seen making his way down the face
of the cliff at the imminent risk of breaking his neck.]
Dick was convinced by her representations, and promised to act upon her
advice.
Before they resigned themselves to sleep, they had repeatedly summoned
Negoro back, but he either could not or would not hear. Mrs. Weldon and
Dick scarcely knew what to think; unless he had lost his way; it was
unaccountable why he should be wandering about alone on a dark night in
a strange country.
Presently Dingo was heard barking furiously. He had left the opening of
the grotto, and was evidently down at the water's edge. Imagining that
Negoro must be coming, Dick sent three of the negroes in the direction
of the river to meet him; but when they reached the bank not a soul
could be seen, and as Dingo was quiet again, they made their way back
to the grotto.
Excepting the man left on watch, they now all lay down, hoping to get
some repose. Mrs. Weldon, however, could not sleep. The land for which
she had sighed so ardently had been reached, but it had failed to give
either the security or the comfort which she had anticipated!
CHAPTER XV.
A STRANGER.
At daybreak, next morning, Austin, who happened to be on guard, heard
Dingo bark, and noticed that he started up and ran towards the river.
Arousing the inmates of the grotto, he announced to them that some one
was coming.
"It isn't Negoro," said Tom; "Dingo would bark louder than that if
Negoro were to be seen."
"Who, then, can it be?" asked Mrs. Weldon, with an inquiring glance
towards Dick.
"We must wait and see, madam," replied Dick quietly.
Bidding Bat, Austin, and Hercules follow his example, Dick Sands took
up a cutlass and a rifle, into the breach of which he slipped a
cartridge. Thus armed, the four young men made their way towards the
river bank. Tom and Actæon were left with Mrs. Weldon at the entrance
of the grotto.
The sun was just rising. Its rays, intercepted by the lofty range of
mountains in the east, did not fall directly on the cliff; but the sea
to its western horizon was sparkling in the sunbeams as the party
marched along the shore. Dingo was motionless as a setter, but did not
cease barking. It soon proved not to be his old enemy who was
disturbing him. A man, who was not Negoro, appeared round the angle of
the cliff, and advancing cautiously along the bank of the stream,
seemed by his gestures to be endeavouring to pacify the dog, with which
an encounter would certainly have been by no means desirable.
"That's not Negoro!" said Hercules.
[Illustration: "Good morning, my young friend."]
"No loss for any of us," muttered Bat.
"You are right," replied Dick; "perhaps he is a native; let us hope he
may be able to tell us our whereabouts, and save us the trouble of
exploring."
With their rifles on their shoulders, they advanced steadily towards
the new arrival. The stranger, on becoming aware of their approach,
manifested great surprise; he was apparently puzzled as to how they had
reached the shore, for the "Pilgrim" had been entirely broken up during
the night, and the spars that were floating about had probably been too
few and too scattered to attract his attention. His first attitude
seemed to betray something of fear; and raising to his shoulder a gun
that had been slung to his belt, he began to retrace his steps; but
conciliatory gestures on the part of Dick quickly reassured him, and
after a moment's hesitation, he continued to advance.
He was a man of about forty years of age, strongly built, with a keen,
bright eye, grizzly hair and beard, and a complexion tanned as with
constant exposure to the forest air. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, a
kind of leather jerkin, or tunic, and long boots reaching nearly to his
knees. To his high heels was fastened a pair of wide-rowelled spurs,
which clanked as he moved.
Dick Sands in an instant saw that he was not looking upon one of the
roving Indians of the pampas, but upon one of those adventurers, often
of very doubtful character, who are not unfrequently to be met with in
the remotest quarters of the earth. Clearly this was neither an Indian
nor a Spaniard. His erect, not to say rigid deportment, and the reddish
hue with which his hair and beard were streaked, betokened him to be of
Anglo-Saxon origin, a conjecture which was at once confirmed when upon
Dick's wishing him "good morning," he replied in unmistakable English,
with hardly a trace of foreign accent,--
"Good morning, my young friend."
He stepped forward, and having shaken hands with Dick, nodded to all
his companions.
"Are you English?" he asked.
"No; we are Americans," replied Dick.
"North or South?" inquired the man.
"North," Dick answered.
The information seemed to afford the stranger no little satisfaction,
and he again wrung Dick's hand with all the enthusiasm of a
fellow-countryman.
"And may I ask what brings you here?" he continued.
Before, however, Dick had time to reply, the stranger had courteously
raised his hat, and, looking round, Dick saw that his bow was intended
for Mrs. Weldon, who had just reached the river-bank. She proceeded to
tell him the particulars of how they had been shipwrecked, and how the
vessel had gone to pieces on the reefs.
A look of pity crossed the man's face as he listened, and he cast his
eye, as it might be involuntarily, upon the sea, in order to discern
some vestige of the stranded ship.
"Ah! there is nothing to be seen of our poor schooner!" said Dick
mournfully; "the last of her was broken up in the storm last night."
"And now," interposed Mrs. Weldon, "can you tell us where we are?"
"Where?" exclaimed the man, with every indication of surprise at her
question; "why, on the coast of South America, of course!"
"But on what part? are we near Peru?" Dick inquired eagerly.
"No, my lad, no; you are more to the south; you are on the coast of
Bolivia; close to the borders of Chili."
"A good distance, I suppose, from Lima?" asked Dick.
"From Lima? yes, a long way; Lima is far to the north."
"And what is the name of that promontory?" Dick said, pointing to the
adjacent headland.
"That, I confess, is more than I am able to tell you," replied the
stranger; "for although I have travelled a great deal in the interior
of the country, I have never before visited this part of the coast."
Dick pondered in thoughtful silence over the information he had thus
received. He had no reason to doubt its accuracy; according to his own
reckoning he would have expected to come ashore somewhere between the
latitudes of 27° and 30°; and by this stranger's showing he had made
the latitude 25°; the discrepancy was not very great; it was not more
than might be accounted for by the action of the currents, which he
knew he had been unable to estimate; moreover, the deserted character
of the whole shore inclined him to believe more easily that he was in
Lower Bolivia.
Whilst this conversation was going on, Mrs. Weldon, whose suspicions
had been excited by Negoro's disappearance, had been scrutinizing the
stranger with the utmost attention; but she could detect nothing either
in his manner or in his words to give her any cause to doubt his good
faith.
"Pardon me," she said presently; "but you do not seem to me to be a
native of Peru?"
"No; like yourself, I am an American, Mrs. ----;" he paused, as if
waiting to be told her name.
The lady smiled, and gave her name; he thanked her, and continued,--
"My name is Harris. I was born in South Carolina; but it is now twenty
years since I left my home for the pampas of Bolivia; imagine,
therefore, how much pleasure it gives me to come across some countrymen
of my own."
"Do you live in this part of the province, Mr. Harris?" Mrs. Weldon
asked.
"No, indeed; far away; I live down to the south, close to the borders
of Chili. At present I am taking a journey north-eastwards to Atacama."
"Atacama!" exclaimed Dick; "are we anywhere near the desert of Atacama?"
"Yes, my young friend," rejoined Harris, "you are just on the edge of
it. It extends far beyond those mountains which you see on the horizon,
and is one of the most curious and least explored parts of the
continent."
"And are you travelling through it alone?" Mrs. Weldon inquired.
"Yes, quite alone; and it is not the first time I have performed the
journey. One of my brothers owns a large farm, the hacienda of San
Felice, about 200 miles from here, and I have occasion now and then to
pay him business visits."
[Illustration: "He is my little son."]
After a moment's hesitation, as if he were weighing a sudden thought,
he continued,--
"I am on my way there now, and if you will accompany me I can promise
you a hearty welcome, and my brother will be most happy to do his best
to provide you with means of conveyance to San Francisco."
Mrs. Weldon had hardly begun to express her thanks for the proposal
when he said abruptly,--
"Are these negroes your slaves?"
"Slaves! sir," replied Mrs. Weldon, drawing herself up proudly; "we
have no slaves in the United States. The south has now long followed
the example of the north. Slavery is abolished."
"I beg your pardon, madam. I had forgotten that the war of 1862 had
solved that question. But seeing these fellows with you, I thought
perhaps they might be in your service," he added, with a slight tone of
irony.
"We are very proud to be of any service to Mrs. Weldon," Tom interposed
with dignity, "but we are no man's property. It is true I was sold for
a slave when I was six years old; but I have long since had my freedom;
and so has my son. Bat here, and all his friends, were born of free
parents."
"Ah! well then, I have to congratulate you," replied Harris, in a
manner that jarred very sensibly upon Mrs. Weldon's feelings; but she
said nothing.
Harris added,--
"I can assure you that you are as safe here in Bolivia as you would be
in New England."
He had not finished speaking, when Jack, followed by Nan, came out of
the grotto. The child was rubbing his eyes, having only just awakened
from his night's sleep. Catching sight of his mother, he darted towards
her.
"What a charming little boy!" exclaimed Harris.
"He is my little son," said Mrs. Weldon, kissing the child by way of
morning greeting.
"Ah, madam, I am sure you must have suffered doubly on his account.
Will the little man let me kiss him too?"
But there was something in the stranger's appearance that did not take
Jack's fancy, and he shrank back timidly to his mother's side.
"You must excuse him, sir; he is very shy."
"Never mind," said Harris; "we shall be better acquainted by-and-by.
When we get to my brother's, he shall have a nice little pony to ride."
But not even this tempting offer seemed to have any effect in coaxing
Jack into a more genial mood. He kept fast hold of his mother's hand,
and she, somewhat vexed at his behaviour, and anxious that no offence
should be given to a man who appeared so friendly in his intentions,
hastened to turn the conversation to another topic.
Meantime Dick Sands had been considering Harris's proposal. Upon the
whole, the plan of making their way to the hacienda of San Felice
seemed to commend itself to his judgment; but he could not conceal from
himself that a journey of 200 miles across plains and forests, without
any means of transport, would be extremely fatiguing. On expressing his
doubts on this point, he was met with the reply,--
"Oh, that can be managed well enough, young man; just round the corner
of the cliff there I have a horse, which is quite at the disposal of
the lady and her son; and by easy stages of ten miles or so a day, it
will do the rest of us no harm to travel on foot. Besides," he added,
"when I spoke of the journey being 200 miles, I was thinking of
following, as I usually do, the course of the river; but by taking a
short cut across the forest, we may reduce the distance by nearly
eighty miles."
Mrs. Weldon was about to say how grateful she was, but Harris
anticipated her.
"Not a word, madam, I beg you. You cannot thank me better than by
accepting my offer. I confess I have never crossed this forest, but I
am so much accustomed to the pampas that I have little fear of losing
my way. The only difficulty is in the matter of provisions, as I have
only supplied myself with enough to carry me on to San Felice."
"As to provisions," replied Mrs. Weldon, "we have enough and to spare;
and we shall be more than willing to share everything with you."
"That is well," answered Harris; "then there can be no reason why we
should not start at once."
He was turning away with the intention of fetching his horse, when Dick
Sands detained him. True to his seaman's instincts, the young sailor
felt that he should be much more at his ease on the sea-shore than
traversing the heart of an unknown forest.
"Pardon me, Mr. Harris," he began, "but instead of taking so long a
journey across the desert of Atacama, would it not be far better for us
to follow the coast either northwards or southwards, until we reach the
nearest seaport?"
A frown passed over Harris's countenance.
"I know very little about the coast," he answered; "but I know enough
to assure you that there is no town to the north within 300 or 400
miles."
"Then why should we not go south?" persisted Dick.
"You would then have to travel to Chili, which is almost as far; and,
under your circumstances, I should not advise you to skirt the pampas
of the Argentine Republic. For my own part, I could not accompany you."
"But do not the vessels which ply between Chili and Peru come within
sight of this coast?" interposed Mrs. Weldon.
"No, madam; they keep out so far to sea that there would not be the
faintest chance of your hailing one."
"You seem to have another question to ask Mr. Harris," Mrs. Weldon
continued, addressing Dick, who still looked rather doubtful.
Dick replied that he was about to inquire at what port he would be
likely to find a ship to convey their party to San Francisco.
"That I really cannot tell you, my young friend," rejoined Harris; "I
can only repeat my promise that we will furnish you with the means of
conveyance from San Felice to Atacama, where no doubt you will obtain
all the information you require."
"I hope you will not think that Dick is insensible to your kindness,
Mr. Harris," said Mrs. Weldon, apologetically.
"On the contrary," promptly observed Dick; "I fully appreciate it; I
only wish we had been cast ashore upon a spot where we should have had
no need to intrude upon his generosity."
"I assure you, madam, it gives me unbounded pleasure to serve you in
any way," said Harris; "it is, as I have told you, not often that I
come in contact with any of my own countrymen."
"Then we accept your offer as frankly as it is made," replied the lady,
adding; "but I cannot consent to deprive you of your horse. I am a very
good walker."
"So am I," said Harris, with a bow, "and consequently I intend you and
your little son to ride. I am used to long tramps through the pampas.
Besides, it is not at all unlikely that we shall come across some of
the workpeople belonging to the hacienda; if so, they will be able to
give us a mount."
Convinced that it would only be thwarting Mrs. Weldon's wishes to throw
any further impediment in the way, Dick Sands suppressed his desire to
raise fresh obstacles, and simply asked how soon they ought to start.
"This very day, at once," said Harris quickly.
"So soon?" asked Dick.
"Yes. The rainy season begins in April, and the sooner we are at San
Felice the better. The way through the forest is the safest as well as
the shortest, for we shall be less likely to meet any of the nomad
Indians, who are notorious robbers."
Without making any direct reply, Dick proceeded to instruct the negroes
to choose such of the provisions as were most easy of transport, and to
make them up into packages, that every one might carry a due share.
Hercules with his usual good nature professed himself willing to carry
the entire load; a proposal, however, to which Dick would not listen
for a moment.
"You are a fine fellow, Hercules" said Harris, scrutinizing the giant
with the eye of a connoisseur; "you would be worth something in the
African market."
"Those who want me now must catch me first," retorted Hercules, with a
grin.
The services of all hands were enlisted, and in a comparatively short
time sufficient food was packed up to supply the party for about ten
days' march.
"You must allow us to show you what hospitality is in our power," said
Mrs. Weldon, addressing her new acquaintance; "our breakfast will be
ready in a quarter of an hour, and we shall be happy if you will join
us."
"It will give me much pleasure," answered Harris, gaily; "I will employ
the interval in fetching my horse, who has breakfasted already."
"I will accompany you," said Dick.
"By all means, my young friend; come with me, and I will show you the
lower part of the river."
While they were gone, Hercules was sent in search of Cousin Benedict,
who was wandering on the top of the cliff in quest of some wonderful
insect, which, of course, was not to be found. Without asking his
permission, Hercules unceremoniously brought him back to Mrs. Weldon,
who explained how they were about to start upon a ten days' march into
the interior of the country. The entomologist was quite satisfied with
the arrangement, and declared himself ready for a march across the
entire continent, as long as he was free to be adding to his collection
on the way.
Thus assured of her cousin's acquiescence in her plans; Mrs. Weldon
proceeded to prepare such a substantial meal as she hoped would
invigorate them all for the approaching journey.
Harris and Dick Sands, meantime, had turned the corner of the cliff,
and walked about 300 paces along the shore until they came to a tree to
which a horse was tethered. The creature neighed as it recognized its
master. It was a strong-built animal, of a kind that Dick had not seen
before, although its long neck and crupper, short loins, flat shoulders
and arched forehead indicated that it was of Arabian breed.
[Illustration: They came to a tree to which a horse was tethered.]
"Plenty of strength here," Harris said, as after unfastening the horse,
he took it by the bridle and began to lead it along the shore.
Dick made no reply; he was casting a hasty glance at the forest which
enclosed them on either hand; it was an unattractive sight, but he
observed nothing to give him any particular ground for uneasiness.
Turning round, he said abruptly,--
"Did you meet a Portuguese last night, named Negoro?"
"Negoro? who is Negoro?" asked Harris, in a tone of surprise.
"He was our ship's cook; but he has disappeared."
"Drowned, probably," said Harris indifferently.
"No, he was not drowned; he was with us during the evening, but left
afterwards; I thought perhaps you might have met him along the
river-side, as you came that way."
"No," said Harris, "I saw no one; if your cook ventured alone into the
forest, most likely he has lost his way; it is possible we may pick him
up upon our road."
When they arrived at the grotto, they found breakfast duly prepared.
Like the supper of the previous evening it consisted mainly of corned
beef and biscuit. Harris did ample justice to the repast.
"There is no fear of our starving as we go," he observed to Mrs.
Weldon; "but I can hardly say so much for the unfortunate Portuguese,
your cook, of whom my young friend here has been speaking."
"Ah! has Dick been telling you about Negoro?" Mrs. Weldon said.
Dick explained that he had been inquiring whether Mr. Harris had
happened to meet him in the direction he had come.
"I saw nothing of him," Harris repeated; "and as he has deserted you,
you need not give yourselves any concern about him." And apparently
glad to turn the subject, he said, "Now, madam, I am at your service;
shall we start at once?"
It was agreed that there was no cause for delay. Each one took up the
package that had been assigned him. Mrs. Weldon, with Hercules' help,
mounted the horse, and Jack, with his miniature gun slung across his
shoulder, was placed astride in front of her. Without a thought of
acknowledging the kindness of the good-natured stranger in providing
him so enjoyable a ride, the heedless little fellow declared himself
quite capable of guiding the "gentleman's horse," and when to indulge
him the bridle was put into his hand, he looked as proud as though he
had been appointed leader of the whole caravan.
CHAPTER XVI.
THROUGH THE FOREST.
Although there was no obvious cause for apprehension, it cannot be
denied that it was with a certain degree of foreboding that Dick Sands
first entered that dense forest, through which for the next ten days
they were all to wend their toilsome way.
Mrs. Weldon, on the contrary, was full of confidence and hope. A woman
and a mother, she might have been expected to be conscious of anxiety
at the peril to which she might be exposing herself and her child; and
doubtless she would have been sensible of alarm if her mind had not
been fully satisfied upon two points; first, that the portion of the
pampas they were about to traverse was little infested either by
natives or by dangerous beasts; and secondly, that she was under the
protection of a guide so trustworthy as she believed Harris to be.
The entrance to the forest was hardly more than three hundred paces up
the river. An order of march had been arranged which was to be observed
as closely as possible throughout the journey. At the head of the troop
were Harris and Dick Sands, one armed with his long gun, the other with
his Remington; next came Bat and Austin, each carrying a gun and a
cutlass, then Mrs. Weldon and Jack, on horseback, closely followed by
Tom and old Nan, while Actæon with the fourth Remington, and Hercules
with a huge hatchet in his waist-belt, brought up the rear. Dingo had
no especial place in the procession, but wandered to and fro at his
pleasure. Ever since he had been cast ashore Dick had noticed a
remarkable change in the dog's behaviour; the animal was in a constant
state of agitation, always apparently on the search for some lost
scent, and repeatedly giving vent to a low growl, which seemed to
proceed from grief rather than from rage.
As for Cousin Benedict, his movements were permitted to be nearly as
erratic as Dingo's; nothing but a leading-string could possibly have
kept him in the ranks. With his tin box under his arm, and his
butterfly net in his hand, and his huge magnifying-glass suspended from
his neck, he would be sometimes far ahead, sometimes a long way behind,
and at the risk of being attacked by some venomous snake, would make
frantic dashes into the tall grass whenever he espied some attractive
orthoptera or other insect which he thought might be honoured by a
place in his collection.
In one hour after starting Mrs. Weldon had called to him a dozen times
without the slightest effect. At last she told him seriously that if he
would not give up chasing the insects at a distance, she should be
obliged to take possession of his tin box.
"Take away my box!" he cried, with as much horror as if she had
threatened to tear out his vitals.
"Yes, your box and your net too!"
"My box and my net! but surely not my spectacles!" almost shrieked the
excited entomologist.
"Yes, and your spectacles as well!" added Mrs. Weldon mercilessly; "I
am glad you have reminded me of another means of reducing you to
obedience!"
The triple penalty of which he was thus warned had the effect of
keeping him from wandering away for the best part of the next hour, but
he was soon once more missing from the ranks; he was manifestly
incorrigible; the deprivation of box, net, and spectacles would, it was
acknowledged, be utterly without avail to prevent him from rambling.
Accordingly it was thought better to let him have his own way,
especially as Hercules volunteered to keep his eye upon him, and to
endeavour to guard the worthy naturalist as carefully as he would
himself protect some precious specimen of a lepidoptera. Further
anxiety on his account was thus put to rest.
[Illustration: The way across the forest could scarcely be called a
path.]
In spite of Harris's confident assertion that they were little likely
to be molested by any of the nomad Indians, the whole company rejoiced
in feeling that they were well armed, and they resolved to keep in a
compact body. The way across the forest could scarcely be called a
path; it was, in fact, little more than the track of animals, and
progress along it was necessarily very slow; indeed it seemed
impossible, at the rate they started, to accomplish more than five or
six miles in the course of twelve hours.
The weather was beautifully fine; the sun ascended nearly to the
zenith, and its rays, descending almost perpendicularly, caused a
degree of heat which, as Harris pointed out, would have been
unendurable upon the open plain, but was here pleasantly tempered by
the shelter of the foliage.
Most of the trees were quite strange to them. To an experienced eye
they were such as were remarkable more for their character then for
their size. Here, on one side, was the bauhinia, or mountain ebony;
there, on the other, the molompi or pterocarpus, its trunk exuding
large quantities of resin, and of which the strong light wood makes
excellent oars or paddles; further on were fustics heavily charged with
colouring matter, and guaiacums, twelve feet in diameter, surpassing
the ordinary kind in magnitude, yet far inferior in quality.
Dick Sands kept perpetually asking Harris to tell him the names of all
these trees and plants.
"Have you never been on the coast of South America before?" replied
Harris, without giving the explicit information that was sought.
"Never," said Dick; "never before. Nor do I recollect ever having seen
any one who has."
"But surely you have explored the coasts of Columbia or Patagonia,"
Harris continued.
Dick avowed that he had never had the chance.
"But has Mrs. Weldon never visited these parts? Our countrymen, I know,
are great travellers."
"No," answered Mrs. Weldon; "my husband's business called him
occasionally to New Zealand, but I have accompanied him nowhere else.
With this part of Lower Bolivia we are totally unacquainted."
"Then, madam, I can only assure you that you will see a most remarkable
country, in every way a very striking contrast to the regions of Peru,
Brazil, and the Argentine republic. Its animal and vegetable products
would fill a naturalist with unbounded wonder. May I not declare it a
lucky chance that has brought you here?"
"Do not say chance, Mr. Harris, if you please."
"Well, then, madam; providence, if you prefer it," said Harris, with
the air of a man incapable of recognizing the distinction.
After finding that there was no one amongst them who was acquainted in
any way with the country through which they were travelling, Harris
seemed to exhibit an evident pleasure in pointing out and describing by
name the various wonders of the forest. Had Cousin Benedict's
attainments included a knowledge of botany he would have found himself
in a fine field for researches, and might perchance have discovered
novelties to which his own name could be appended in the catalogues of
science. But he was no botanist; in fact, as a rule, he held all
blossoms in aversion, on the ground that they entrapped insects into
their corollæ, and poisoned them sometimes with venomous juices. New
and rare insects, however, seemed hereabouts to be wanting.
Occasionally the soil became marshy, and they all had to wend their way
over a perfect network of tiny rivulets that were affluents of the
river from which they had started. Sometimes these rivulets were so
wide that they could not be passed without a long search for some spot
where they could be forded; their banks were all very damp, and in many
places abounded with a kind of reed, which Harris called by its proper
name of papyrus.
As soon as the marshy district had been passed, the forest resumed its
original aspect, the footway becoming narrow as ever. Harris pointed
out some very fine ebony-trees, larger than the common sort, and
yielding a wood darker and more durable than what is ordinarily seen in
the market. There were also more mango-trees than might have been
expected at this distance from the sea; a beautiful white lichen
enveloped their trunks like a fur; but in spite of their luxuriant
foliage and delicious fruit, Harris said that there was not a native
who would venture to propagate the species, as the superstition of the
country is that "whoever plants a mango, dies!"
[Illustration: Occasionally the soil became marshy.]
At noon a halt was made for the purpose of rest and refreshment. During
the afternoon they arrived at some gently rising ground, not the first
slopes of hills, but an insulated plateau which appeared to unite
mountains and plains. Notwithstanding that the trees were far less
crowded and more inclined to grow in detached groups, the numbers of
herbaceous plants with which the soil was covered rendered progress no
less difficult than it was before. The general aspect of the scene was
not unlike an East Indian jungle. Less luxuriant indeed than in the
lower valley of the river, the vegetation was far more abundant than
that of the temperate zones either of the Old or New continents. Indigo
grew in great profusion, and, according to Harris's representation, was
the most encroaching plant in the whole country; no sooner, he said,
was a field left untilled, than it was overrun by this parasite, which
sprang up with the rank growth of thistles or nettles.
One tree which might have been expected to be common in this part of
the continent seemed entirely wanting. This was the caoutchouc. Of the
various trees from which India-rubber is procured, such as the Ficus
prinoides, the Castilioa elastica, the Cecropia peltata, the Callophora
utilis, the Cameraria latifolia, and especially the Siphonia elastica,
all of which abound in the provinces of South America, not a single
specimen was to be seen. Dick had promised to show Jack an
India-rubber-tree, and the child, who had conjured up visions of
squeaking dolls, balls, and other toys growing upon its branches, was
loud and constant in his expressions of disappointment.
"Never mind, my little man," said Harris; "have patience, and you shall
see hundreds of India-rubber-trees when you get to the hacienda."
"And will they be nice and elastic?" asked Jack, whose ideas upon the
subject were of the vaguest order.
"Oh, yes, they will stretch as long as you like," Harris answered,
laughing. "But here is something to amuse you," he added, and as he
spoke, he gathered a fruit that looked as tempting as a peach.
"You are quite sure that it is safe to give it him?" said Mrs. Weldon
anxiously.
"To satisfy you, madam, I will eat one first myself."
The example he set was soon followed by all the rest. The fruit was a
mango; that which had been so opportunely discovered was of the sort
that ripens in March or April; there is a later kind which ripens in
September. With his mouth full of juice, Jack pronounced that it was
very nice, but did not seem to be altogether diverted from his sense of
disappointment at not coming to an India-rubber-tree. Evidently the
little man thought himself rather injured.
"And Dick promised me some humming-birds too!" he murmured.
"Plenty of humming-birds for you, when you get to the farm; lots of
them where my brother lives," said Harris.
And to say the truth, there was nothing extravagant in the way the
child's anticipations had been raised, for in Bolivia humming-birds are
found in great abundance. The Indians, who weave their plumage into all
kinds of artistic designs, have bestowed the most poetical epithets
upon these gems of the feathered race. They call them "rays of the
sun," and "tresses of the day-star;" at one time they will describe
them as "king of flowers," at another as "blossoms of heaven kissing
blossoms of earth," or as "the jewel that reflects the sunbeam." In
fact their imagination seems to have shaped a suitable distinction for
almost every one of the 150 known species of this dazzling little
beauty.
But however numerous humming-birds might be expected to be in the
Bolivian forest, they proved scarce enough at present, and Jack had to
content himself with Harris's representations that they did not like
solitude, but would be found plentifully at San Felice, where they
would be heard all day long humming like a spinning-wheel. Already Jack
said he longed to be there, a wish that was so unanimously echoed by
all the rest, that they resolved that no stoppage should be allowed
beyond what was absolutely indispensable.
After a time the forest began to alter its aspect. The trees were even
less crowded, opening now and then into wide glades. The soil, cropping
up above its carpet of verdure, exhibited veins of rose granite and
syenite, like plates of lapis lazuli; on some of the higher ground, the
fleshy tubers of the sarsaparilla plant, growing in a hopeless
entanglement, made progress a matter of still greater difficulty than
in the narrow tracks of the dense forest.
At sunset the travellers found that they had accomplished about eight
miles from their starting-point. They could not prognosticate what
hardships might be in store for them on future days, but it was certain
that the experiences of the first day had been neither eventful nor
very fatiguing. It was now unanimously agreed that they should make a
halt for the night, and as little was to be apprehended from the
attacks either of man or beast, it was considered unnecessary to form
anything like a regular encampment. One man on guard, to be relieved
every few hours, was presumed to be sufficient. Admirable shelter was
offered by an enormous mango, the spreading foliage of which formed a
kind of natural verandah, sweeping the ground so thoroughly that any
one who chose could find sleeping-quarters in its very branches.
Simultaneously with the halting of the party there was heard a
deafening tumult in the upper boughs. The mango was the roosting place
of a colony of grey parrots, a noisy, quarrelsome, and rapacious race,
of whose true characteristics the specimens seen in confinement in
Europe give no true conception. Their screeching and chattering were
such a nuisance that Dick Sands wanted to fire a shot into the middle
of them, but Harris seriously dissuaded him, urging that the report of
firearms would only serve to reveal their own presence, whilst their
greatest safety lay in perfect silence.
Supper was prepared. There was little need of cooking. The meal, as
before, consisted of preserved meat and biscuit. Fresh water, which
they flavoured with a few drops of rum, was obtained from an adjacent
stream which trickled through the grass. By way of dessert they had an
abundance of ripe mangoes, and the only drawback to their general
enjoyment was the discordant outcry which the parrots kept up, as it
were in protest against the invasion of what they held to be their own
rightful domain.
It was nearly dark when supper was ended. The evening shade crept
slowly upwards to the tops of the trees, which soon stood out in sharp
relief against the lighter background of the sky, while the stars, one
by one, began to peep. The wind dropped, and ceased to murmur through
the foliage; to the general relief, the parrots desisted from their
clatter; and as Nature hushed herself to rest, she seemed to be
inviting all her children to follow her example.
"Had we not better light a good large fire?" asked Dick.
"By no means," said Harris; "the nights are not cold, and under this
wide-spreading mango the ground is not likely to be damp. Besides, as I
have told you before, our best security consists in our taking care to
attract no attention whatever from without."
Mrs. Weldon interposed,--
"It may be true enough that we have nothing to dread from the Indians,
but is it certain that there are no dangerous quadrupeds against which
we are bound to be upon our guard?"
Harris answered,--
"I can positively assure you, madam, that there are no animals here but
such as would be infinitely more afraid of you than you would be of
them."
"Are there any woods without wild beasts?" asked Jack.
"All woods are not alike, my boy," replied Harris; "this wood is a
great park. As the Indians say, 'Es como el Pariso;' it is like
Paradise."
Jack persisted,--
"There must be snakes, and lions, and tigers."
"Ask your mamma, my boy," said Harris, "whether she ever heard of lions
and tigers in America?"
Mrs. Weldon was endeavouring to put her little boy at his ease on this
point, when Cousin Benedict interposed, saying that although there were
no lions or tigers, there were plenty of jaguars and panthers in the
New World.
"And won't they kill us?" demanded Jack eagerly, his apprehensions once
more aroused.
"Kill you?" laughed Harris; "why, your friend Hercules here could
strangle them, two at a time, one in each hand!"
"But, please, don't let the panthers come near me!" pleaded Jack,
evidently alarmed.
"No, no, Master Jack, they shall not come near you. I will give them a
good grip first," and the giant displayed his two rows of huge white
teeth.
Dick Sands proposed that it should be the four younger negroes who
should be assigned the task of keeping watch during the night, in
attendance upon himself; but Actæon insisted so strongly upon the
necessity of Dick's having his full share of rest, that the others were
soon brought to the same conviction, and Dick was obliged to yield.
Jack valiantly announced his intention of taking one watch, but his
sleepy eyelids made it only too plain that he did not know the extent
of his own fatigue.
"I am sure there are wolves here," he said.
"Only such wolves as Dingo would swallow at a mouthful," said Harris.
"But I am sure there are wolves," he insisted, repeating the word
"wolves" again and again, until he tumbled off to sleep against the
side of old Nan. Mrs. Weldon gave her little son a silent kiss; it was
her loving "good night."
Cousin Benedict was missing. Some little time before, he had slipped
away in search of "cocuyos," or fire-flies, which he had heard were
common in South America.
Those singular insects emit a bright bluish light from two spots on the
side of the thorax, and their colours are so brilliant that they are
used as ornaments for ladies' headdresses. Hoping to secure some
specimens for his box, Benedict would have wandered to an unlimited
distance; but Hercules, faithful to his undertaking, soon discovered
him, and heedless of the naturalist's protestations and vociferations,
promptly escorted him back to the general rendezvous.
Hercules himself was the first to keep watch, but with this exception,
the whole party, in another hour, were wrapped in peaceful slumber.
[Illustration: Hercules himself was the first to keep watch.]
CHAPTER XVII
MISGIVINGS.
Most travellers who have passed a night in a South American forest have
been roused from their slumbers by a _matinée musicale_ more fantastic
than melodious, performed by monkeys, as their ordinary greeting of the
dawn. The yelling, chattering, screeching, howling, all unite to form a
chorus almost unearthly in its hideousness.
Amongst the various specimens of the numerous family of the quadrumana
ought to be recognized the little marikina; the sagouin, with its
parti-coloured face; the grey mora, the skin of which is used by the
Indians for covering their gun-locks; the sapajou, with its singular
tuft over the forehead, and, most remarkable of all, the guariba
(_Simia Beelzebul_) with its prehensile tail and diabolical countenance.
At the first streak of daylight the senior member, as choragus, will
start the key-note in a sonorous barytone, the younger monkeys join in
tenor and alto, and the concert begins. But this morning there was no
concert at all. There was nothing of the wonted serenade to break the
silence of the forest. The shrill notes resulting from the rapid
vibration of the hyoid bones of the throat were not to be heard.
Indians would have been disappointed and perplexed; they are very fond
of the flesh of the guariba when smoked and dried, and they would
certainly have missed the chant of the monkey "paternosters;" but Dick
Sands and his companions were unfamiliar with any of these things, and
accordingly the singular quietude was to them a matter of no surprise.
They all awoke much refreshed by their night's rest, which there had
been nothing to disturb. Jack was by no means the latest in opening his
eyes, and his first words were addressed to Hercules, asking him
whether he had caught a wolf with his teeth. Hercules had to
acknowledge that he had tasted nothing all night, and declared himself
quite ready for breakfast. The whole party were unanimous in this
respect, and after a brief morning prayer, breakfast was expeditiously
served by old Nan. The meal was but a repetition of the last evening's
supper, but with their appetites sharpened by the fresh forest air, and
anxious to fortify themselves for a good day's march, they did not fail
to do ample justice to their simple fare. Even Cousin Benedict, for
once in his life at least, partook of his food as if it were not
utterly a matter of indifference to him; but he grumbled very much at
the restraint to which he considered himself subjected; he could not
see the good of coming to such a country as this, if he were to be
obliged to walk about with his hands in his pockets; and he protested
that if Hercules did not leave him alone and permit him to catch
fire-flies, there would be a bone to pick between them. Hercules did
not look very much alarmed at the threat. Mrs. Weldon, however, took
him aside, and telling him that she did not wish to deprive the
enthusiast entirely of his favourite occupation, instructed him to
allow her cousin as much liberty as possible, provided he did not lose
sight of him.
The morning meal was over, and it was only seven o'clock when the
travellers were once more on their way towards the east, preserving the
same marching-order as on the day before.
The path was still through luxuriant forest. The vegetable kingdom
reigned supreme. As the plateau was immediately adjacent to tropical
latitudes, the sun's rays during the summer months descended
perpendicularly upon the virgin soil, and the vast amount of heat thus
obtained combined with the abundant moisture retained in the subsoil,
caused vegetation to assume a character which was truly magnificent.
Dick Sands could not overcome a certain sense of mystification. Here
they were, as Harris told them, in the region of the pampas, a word
which he knew in the Quichna dialect signifies "a plain;" but he had
always read that these plains were characterized by a deficiency alike
of water, of trees, and rocks; he had always understood that during the
rainy season, thistles spring up in great abundance and grow until they
form thickets that are well-nigh impenetrable; he had imagined that the
few dwarf trees and prickly shrubs that exist during the summer only
stamp the general scene with an aspect of yet more thorough bareness
and desolation. But how different was everything to all this! The
forest never ceased to stretch away interminably to the horizon. There
were no tokens of the rough nakedness that he had expected. Dick seemed
to be driven to the conclusion that Harris was right in describing this
plateau of Atacama, which he had for his part most firmly believed to
be a vast desert between the Andes and the Pacific, as a region that
was quite exceptional in its natural features.
It was not in Dick's character to keep his reflections to himself. In
the course of the morning he expressed his extreme surprise at finding
the pampas answer so little to his preconceived ideas.
"Have I not understood correctly," he said, "that the pampas is similar
to the North American savannahs, only less marshy?"
Harris replied that such was indeed a correct description of the pampas
of Rio Colorado, and the Ilanos of Venezuela and the Orinoco.
"But," he continued, "I own I am as much astonished as yourself at the
character of this region; I have never crossed the plateau before, and
I must confess it is altogether different to what you find beyond the
Andes towards the Atlantic."
"You don't mean that we are going to cross the Andes?" said Dick, in
sudden alarm.
Harris smiled.
"No, no, indeed. With our limited means of transport such an
undertaking would have been rash in the extreme. We had better have
kept to the coast for ever rather than incur such a risk. Our
destination, San Felice, is on this side of the range, and in order to
reach it, we shall not have to leave the plateau, of which the greatest
elevation is but little over 1500 feet."
"And you say," Dick persisted, "that you have really no fear of losing
your way in a forest such as this, a forest into which you have never
set foot before?"
"No fear whatever," Harris answered; "so accustomed am I to travelling
of this kind, that I can steer my way by a thousand signs revealing
themselves in the growth of the trees, and in the composition of the
soil, which would never present themselves to your notice. I assure you
that I anticipate no difficulties."
This conversation was not heard by any of the rest of the party. Harris
seemed to speak as frankly as he did fearlessly, and Dick felt that
there might be, after all, no just grounds for any of his own
misgivings.
Five days passed by, and the 12th of April arrived without any special
incident. Nine miles had been the average distance accomplished in a
day; regular periods of rest had been taken, and, except that Jack's
spirits had somewhat flagged, the fatigue did not seem to have
interfered with the general good health of the travellers.
First disappointed of his India-rubber-tree, and then of his humming
birds, Jack had inquired about the beautiful parrots which he had been
led to expect he should see in this wonderful forest. Where were the
bright green macaws? where were the gaudy aras with their bare white
cheeks and pointed tails, which seem never to light upon the ground?
and where, too, were all the brilliant parroquets, with their feathered
faces, and indeed the whole variety of those forest chatterers of which
the Indians affirm that they speak the language of nations long extinct?
It is true that there was no lack of the common grey parrots with
crimson tails, but these were no novelty; Jack had seen plenty of them
before, for owing to their reputation of being the most clever in
mimickry of the Psittacidæ, they have been domesticated everywhere in
both the Old and New worlds.
[Illustration: "Don't Fire!"]
But Jack's dissatisfaction was nothing compared to Cousin Benedict's.
In spite of being allowed to wander away from the rank, he had failed
to discover a single insect which was worth the pursuit; not even a
fire-fly danced at night; nature seemed to be mocking him, and his
ill-humour increased accordingly.
In this way the journey was continued for four days longer, and on the
16th it was estimated that they must have travelled between eighty and
ninety miles north-eastwards from the coast. Harris positively asserted
that they could not be much more than twenty miles from San Felice, and
that by pushing forwards they might expect in eight-and-forty hours to
find themselves lodged in comfortable quarters.
But although they had thus succeeded in traversing this vast
table-land, they had not seen one human inhabitant. Dick was more than
ever perplexed, and it was a subject of bitter regret to him that they
had not stranded upon some more frequented part of the shore, near some
village or plantation where Mrs. Weldon might long since have found a
suitable refuge.
Deserted, however, as the country apparently was by man, it had
latterly shown itself much more abundantly tenanted by animals. Many a
time a long, plaintive cry was heard, which Harris attributed to the
tardigrades or sloths often found in wooded districts, and known by the
name of "ais;" and in the middle of the dinner-halt on this day, a loud
hissing suddenly broke upon the air which made Mrs. Weldon start to her
feet in alarm.
"A serpent!" cried Dick, catching up his loaded gun.
The negroes, following Dick's example, were in a moment on the alert.
"Don't fire!" cried Harris.
There was indeed nothing improbable in the supposition that a "sucuru,"
a species of boa, sometimes measuring forty feet in length, had just
moved itself in the long grass at their side, but Harris affirmed that
the "sucuru" never hisses, and declared that the noise had really come
from animals of an entirely inoffensive character.
"What animals?" asked Dick, always eager for information, which it must
be granted Harris seemed always equally anxious to give.
"Antelopes," replied Harris; "but, hush! not a sound, or you will
frighten them away."
"Antelopes!" cried Dick; "I must see them; I must get close to them."
"More easily said than done," answered Harris, shaking his head; but
Dick was not to be diverted from his purpose, and, gun in hand, crept
into the grass. He had not advanced many yards before a herd of about a
dozen gazelles, graceful in body, with short, pointed horns, dashed
past him like a glowing cloud, and disappeared in the underwood without
giving him time to take a shot.
"I told you beforehand what you would have to expect," said Harris, as
Dick, with a considerable sense of disappointment, returned to the
party.
Impossible, however, as it had been fairly to scrutinize the antelopes,
such was hardly the case with another herd of animals, the
identification of which led to a somewhat singular discussion between
Harris and the rest.
About four o'clock on the afternoon of the same day, the travellers
were halting for a few moments near an opening in the forest, when
three or four large animals emerged from a thicket about a hundred
paces ahead, and scampered off at full speed. In spite of what Harris
had urged, Dick put his gun to his shoulder, and was on the very point
of firing, when Harris knocked the rifle quickly aside.
"They were giraffes!" shouted Dick.
The announcement awakened the curiosity of Jack, who quickly scrambled
to his feet upon the saddle on which he was lounging.
"My dear Dick," said Mrs. Weldon, "there are no giraffes in America!"
[Illustration: A herd of gazelles dashed past him like a glowing cloud.]
"Certainly not," cried Harris; "they were not giraffes, they were
ostriches which you saw!"
"Ostriches with four legs! that will never do! what do you say. Mrs.
Weldon?"
Mrs. Weldon replied that she had certainly taken the animals for
quadrupeds, and all the negroes were under the same impression.
Laughing heartily, Harris said it was far from an uncommon thing for an
inexperienced eye to mistake a large ostrich for a small giraffe; the
shape of both was so similar, that it often quite escaped observation
as to whether the long necks terminated in a beak or a muzzle; besides,
what need of discussion could there be when the fact was established
that giraffes are unknown in the New World? The reasoning was plausible
enough, and Mrs Weldon and the negroes were soon convinced. But Dick
was far from satisfied.
"I did not know that there was an American ostrich!" he again objected.
"Oh, yes," replied Harris promptly, "there is a species called the
nandu, which is very well known here; we shall probably see some more
of them."
The statement was correct; the nandu is common in the plains of South
America, and is distinguished from the African ostrich by having three
toes, all furnished with claws. It is a fine bird, sometimes exceeding
six feet in height; it has a short beak, and its wings are furnished
with blue-grey plumes. Harris appeared well acquainted with the bird,
and proceeded to give a very precise account of its habits. In
concluding his remarks, he again pressed upon Dick his most urgent
request that he should abstain from firing upon any animal whatever. It
was of the utmost consequence.
Dick made no reply. He was silent and thoughtful. Grave doubts had
arisen in his mind, and he could neither explain nor dispel them.
When the march was resumed on the following day, Harris asserted his
conviction that another four-and-twenty hours would bring them to the
hacienda.
"And there, madam," he said, addressing Mrs. Weldon, "we can offer you
every essential comfort, though you may not find the luxuries of your
own home in San Francisco."
Mrs. Weldon repeated her expression of gratitude for the proffered
hospitality, owning that she should now be exceedingly glad to reach
the farm, as she was anxious about her little son, who appeared to be
threatened with the symptoms of incipient fever.
Harris could not deny that although the climate was usually very
healthy, it nevertheless did occasionally produce a kind of
intermittent fever during March and April.
"But nature has provided the proper remedy," said Dick; and perceiving
that Harris did not comprehend his meaning, he continued, "Are we not
in the region of the quinquinas, the bark of which is notoriously the
medicine with which attacks of fever are usually treated? for my part,
I am amazed that we have not seen numbers of them already."
"Ah! yes, yes; I know what you mean," answered Harris, after a moment's
hesitation; "they are trees, however, not always easy to find; they
rarely grow in groups, and in spite of their large leaves and fragrant
red blossom, the Indians themselves often have a difficulty in
recognizing them; the feature that distinguishes them most is their
evergreen foliage."
At Mrs. Weldon's request, Harris promised to point out the tree if he
should see one, but added that when she reached the hacienda, she would
be able to obtain some sulphate of quinine, which was much more
efficacious than the unprepared bark.[1]
[Footnote 1: This bark was formerly, reduced to powder, known as
"Pulvis Jesuiticus," because in the year 1649 the Jesuits in Rome
imported a large quantity of it from their missionaries in South
America.]
The day passed without further incident. No rain had fallen at present,
though the warm mist that rose from the soil betokened an approaching
change of weather; the rainy season was certainly not far distant, but
to travellers who indulged the expectation of being in a few hours in a
place of shelter, this was not a matter of great concern.
[Illustration: A halt was made for the night beneath a grove of lofty
trees.]
Evening came, and a halt was made for the night beneath a grove of
lofty trees. If Harris had not miscalculated, they could hardly be more
than about six miles from their destination; so confirmed, however, was
Dick Sands in his strange suspicions, that nothing could induce him to
relax any of the usual precautions, and he particularly insisted upon
the negroes, turn by turn, keeping up the accustomed watch.
Worn out by fatigue, the little party were glad to lie down, but they
had scarcely dropped off to sleep when they were aroused by a sharp cry.
"Who's that? who's there? what's the matter?" exclaimed Dick, the first
to rise to his feet.
"It is I," answered Benedict's voice; "I am bitten. Something has
bitten me."
"A snake!" exclaimed Mrs. Weldon in alarm.
"No, no, cousin, better than that! it was not a snake; I believe it was
an orthoptera; I have it all right," he shouted triumphantly.
"Then kill it quickly, sir; and let us go to sleep again in peace,"
said Harris.
"Kill it! not for the world! I must have a light, and look at it!"
Dick Sands indulged him, for reasons of his own, in getting a light.
The entomologist carefully opened his hand and displayed an insect
somewhat smaller than a bee, of a dull colour, streaked with yellow on
the under portion of the body. He looked radiant with delight.
"A diptera!" he exclaimed, half beside himself with joy, "a most famous
diptera!"
"Is it venomous?" asked Mrs. Weldon.
"Not at all to men; it only hurts elephants and buffaloes."
"But tell us its name! what is it?" cried Dick impetuously.
The naturalist began to speak in a slow, oracular tone.
"This insect is here a prodigy; it is an insect totally unknown in this
country,--in America."
"Tell us its name!" roared Dick.
"It is a tzetzy, sir, a true tzetzy."
Dick's heart sank like a stone. He was speechless. He did not, dared
not, ask more. Only too well he knew where the tzetzy could alone be
found. He did not close his eyes again that night.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY.
The morning of the 18th dawned, the day on which, according to Harris's
prediction, the travellers were to be safely housed at San Felice. Mrs.
Weldon was really much relieved at the prospect, for she was aware that
her strength must prove inadequate to the strain of a more protracted
journey. The condition of her little boy, who was alternately flushed
with fever, and pale with exhaustion, had begun to cause her great
anxiety, and unwilling to resign the care of the child even to Nan his
faithful nurse, she insisted upon carrying him in her own arms. Twelve
days and nights, passed in the open air, had done much to try her
powers of endurance, and the charge of a sick child in addition would
soon break down her strength entirely.
Dick Sands, Nan, and the negroes had all borne the march very fairly.
Their stock of provisions, though of course considerably diminished,
was still far from small. As for Harris, he had shown himself
pre-eminently adapted for forest-life, and capable of bearing any
amount of fatigue. Yet, strange to say, as he approached the end of the
journey, his manner underwent a remarkable change; instead of
conversing in his ordinary frank and easy way, he became silent and
preoccupied, as if engrossed in his own thoughts. Perhaps he had an
instinctive consciousness that "his young friend," as he was in the
habit of addressing Dick, was entertaining hard suspicions about him.
The march was resumed. The trees once again ceased to be crowded in
impenetrable masses, but stood in clusters at considerable distances
apart. Now, Dick tried to argue with himself, they must be coming to
the true pampas, or the man must be designedly misleading them; and yet
what motive could he have?
Although during the earlier part of the day there occurred nothing that
could be said absolutely to justify Dick's increasing uneasiness, two
circumstances transpired which did not escape his observation, and
which, he felt, might be significant. The first of these was a sudden
change in Dingo's behaviour. The dog, throughout the march, had
uniformly run along with his nose upon the ground, smelling the grass
and shrubs, and occasionally uttering a sad low whine; but to-day he
seemed all agitation; he scampered about with bristling coat, with his
head erect, and ever and again burst into one of those furious fits of
barking, with which he had formerly been accustomed to greet Negoro's
appearance upon the deck of the "Pilgrim."
The idea that flitted across Dick's mind was shared by Tom.
"Look, Mr. Dick, look at Dingo; he is at his old ways again," said he;
"it is just as if Negoro...."
"Hush!" said Dick to the old man, who continued in a lower voice,--
"It is just as if Negoro had followed us; do you think it is likely?"
"It might perhaps be to his advantage to follow us, if he doesn't know
the country; but if he does know the country, why then...."
Dick did not finish his sentence, but whistled to Dingo. The dog
reluctantly obeyed the call.
As soon as the dog was at his side, Dick patted him, repeating,--
"Good dog! good Dingo! where's Negoro?"
The sound of Negoro's name had its usual effect; it seemed to irritate
the animal exceedingly, and he barked furiously, and apparently wanted
to dash into the thicket.
Harris had been an interested spectator of the scene, and now
approached with a peculiar expression on his countenance, and inquired
what they were saying to Dingo.
"Oh, nothing much," replied Tom; "we were only asking him for news of a
lost acquaintance."
"Ah, I suppose you mean that Portuguese cook of yours."
"Yes," answered Tom; "we fancied from Dingo's behaviour, that Negoro
must be somewhere close at hand."
"Why don't you send and search the underwood? perhaps the poor wretch
is in distress."
"No need of that, Mr. Harris; Negoro, I have no doubt, is quite capable
of taking care of himself."
"Well, just as you please, my young friend," said Harris, with an air
of indifference.
Dick turned away; he continued his endeavours to pacify Dingo, and the
conversation dropped.
The other thing that had arrested Dick's attention was the behaviour of
the horse. If they had been as near the hacienda as Harris described,
would not the animal have pricked up its ears, sniffed the air, and
with dilated nostril, exhibited some sign of satisfaction, as being
upon familiar ground?
But nothing of the kind was to be observed; the horse plodded along as
unconcernedly as if a stable were as far away as ever.
Even Mrs. Weldon was not so engrossed with her child, but what she was
fain to express her wonder at the deserted aspect of the country. No
trace of a farm-labourer was anywhere to be seen! She cast her eye at
Harris, who was in his usual place in front, and observing how he was
looking first to the left, and then to the right, with the air of a man
who was uncertain of his path, she asked herself whether it was
possible their guide might have lost his way. She dared not entertain
the idea, and averted her eyes, that she might not be harassed by his
movements.
After crossing an open plain about a mile in width, the travellers once
again entered the forest, which resumed something of the same denseness
that had characterized it farther to the west. In the course of the
afternoon, they came to a spot which was marked very distinctly by the
vestiges of some enormous animals, which must have passed quite
recently. As Dick looked carefully about him, he observed that the
branches were all torn off or broken to a considerable height, and that
the foot-tracks in the trampled grass were much too large to be those
either of jaguars or panthers. Even if it were possible that the prints
on the ground had been made by ais or other taidigrades, this would
fail to account in the least for the trees being broken to such a
height. Elephants alone were capable of working such destruction in the
underwood, but elephants were unknown in America. Dick was puzzled, but
controlled himself so that he would not apply to Harris for any
enlightenment; his intuition made him aware that a man who had once
tried to make him believe that giraffes were ostriches, would not
hesitate a second time to impose upon his credulity.
More than ever was Dick becoming convinced that Harris was a traitor,
and he was secretly prompted to tax him with his treachery. Still he
was obliged to own that he could not assign any motive for the man
acting in such a manner with the survivors of the "Pilgrim," and
consequently hesitated before he actually condemned him for conduct so
base and heartless. What could be done? he repeatedly asked himself. On
board ship the boy captain might perchance have been able to devise
some plan for the safety of those so strangely committed to his charge,
but here on an unknown shore, he could only suffer from the burden of
this responsibility the more, because he was so utterly powerless to
act.
He made up his mind on one point. He determined not to alarm the poor
anxious mother a moment before he was actually compelled. It was his
carrying out this determination that explained why on subsequently
arriving at a considerable stream, where he saw some huge heads,
swollen muzzles, long tusks and unwieldy bodies rising from amidst the
rank wet grass, he uttered no word and gave no gesture of surprise; but
only too well he knew, at a glance, that he must be looking at a herd
of hippopotamuses.
[Illustration: "Look here! here are hands, men's hands."]
It was a weary march that day; a general feeling of depression spread
involuntarily from one to another; hardly conscious to herself of her
weariness, Mrs. Weldon was exhibiting manifest symptoms of lassitude;
and it was only Dick's moral energy and sense of duty that kept him
from succumbing to the prevailing dejection.
About four o'clock, Tom noticed something lying in the grass, and
stooping down he picked up a kind of knife; it was of peculiar shape,
being very wide and flat in the blade, while its handle, which was of
ivory, was ornamented with a good deal of clumsy carving. He carried it
at once to Dick, who, when he had scrutinized it, held it up to Harris,
with the remark,--
"There must be natives not far off."
"Quite right, my young friend; the hacienda must be a very few miles
away,--but yet, but yet...."
He hesitated.
"You don't mean that you are not sure of your way," said Dick sharply.
"Not exactly that," replied Harris; "yet in taking this short cut
across the forest, I am inclined to think I am a mile or so out of the
way. Perhaps I had better walk on a little way, and look about me."
"No; you do not leave us here," cried Dick firmly.
"Not against your will; but remember, I do not undertake to guide you
in the dark."
"We must spare you the necessity for that. I can answer for it that
Mrs. Weldon will raise no objection to spending another night in the
open air. We can start off to-morrow morning as early as we like, and
if the distance be only what you represent, a few hours will easily
accomplish it."
"As you please," answered Harris with cold civility.
Just then, Dingo again burst out into a vehement fit of barking, and it
required no small amount of coaxing on Dick's part to make him cease
from his noise.
It was decided that the halt should be made at once. Mrs. Weldon, as it
had been anticipated, urged nothing against it, being preoccupied by
her immediate attentions to Jack, who was lying in her arms, suffering
from a decided attack of fever. The shelter of a large thicket had just
been selected by Dick as a suitable resting-place for the night, when
Tom, who was assisting in the necessary preparations, suddenly gave a
cry of horror.
"What is it, Tom?" asked Dick very calmly.
"Look! look at these trees! they are spattered with blood! and look
here! here are hands, men's hands, cut off and lying on the ground!"
"What?" cried Dick, and in an instant was at his side.
His presence of mind did not fail him; he whispered,--
"Hush! Tom! hush! not a word!"
But it was with a shudder that ran through his veins that he witnessed
for himself the mutilated fragments of several human bodies, and saw,
lying beside them, some broken forks, and some bits of iron chain.
The sight of the gory remains made Dingo bark ferociously, and Dick,
who was most anxious that Mrs. Weldon's attention should not be called
to the discovery, had the greatest difficulty in driving him back; but
fortunately the lady's mind was so engrossed with her patient, that she
did not observe the commotion. Harris stood aloof; there was no one to
notice the change that passed over his countenance, but the expression
was almost diabolical in its malignity.
Poor old Tom himself seemed perfectly spell-bound. With his hands
clenched, his eyes dilated, and his breast heaving with emotion, he
kept repeating without anything like coherence, the words,--
"Forks! chains! forks! ... long ago ... remember ... too well ...
chains!"
"For Mrs. Weldon's sake, Tom, hold your tongue!" Dick implored him.
Tom, however, was full with some remembrance of the past; he continued
to repeat,--
"Long ago ... forks ... chains!" until Dick led him out of hearing.
A fresh halting-place was chosen a short distance further on, and
supper was prepared. But the meal was left almost untasted; not so much
that hunger had been overcome by fatigue, but because the indefinable
feeling of uneasiness, that had taken possession of them all, had
entirely destroyed all appetite.
[Illustration: The man was gone, and his horse with him.]
Gradually the night became very dark. The sky was covered with heavy
storm-clouds, and on the western horizon flashes of summer lightning
now and then glimmered through the trees. The air was perfectly still;
not a leaf stirred, and the atmosphere seemed so charged with
electricity as to be incapable of transmitting sound of any kind.
Dick, himself, with Austin and Bat in attendance, remained on guard,
all of them eagerly straining both eye and ear to catch any light or
sound that might disturb the silence and obscurity. Old Tom, with his
head sunk upon his breast, sat motionless, as in a trance; he was
gloomily revolving the awakened memories of the past. Mrs. Weldon was
engaged with her sick child. Scarcely one of the party was really
asleep, except indeed it might be Cousin Benedict, whose reasoning
faculties were not of an order to carry him forwards into any future
contingencies.
Midnight was still an hour in advance, when the dull air seemed filled
with a deep and prolonged roar, mingled with a peculiar kind of
vibration.
Tom started to his feet. A fresh recollection of his early days had
struck him.
"A lion! a lion!" he shouted.
In vain Dick tried to repress him; but he repeated,--
"A lion! a lion!"
Dick Sands seized his cutlass, and, unable any longer to control his
wrath, he rushed to the spot where he had left Harris lying.
The man was gone, and his horse with him!
All the suspicions that had been so long pent up within Dick's mind now
shaped themselves into actual reality. A flood of light had broken in
upon him. Now he was convinced, only too certainly, that it was not the
coast of America at all upon which the schooner had been cast ashore!
it was not Easter Island that had been sighted far away in the west!
the compass had completely deceived him; he was satisfied now that the
strong currents had carried them quite round Cape Horn, and that they
had really entered the Atlantic. No wonder that quinquinas, caoutchouc,
and other South American products, had failed to be seen. This was
neither the Bolivian pampas nor the plateau of Atacama. They were
giraffes, not ostriches, that had vanished down the glade; they were
elephants that had trodden down the underwood; they were hippopotamuses
that were lurking by the river; it was indeed the dreaded tzetsy that
Cousin Benedict had so triumphantly discovered; and, last of all, it
was a lion's roar that had disturbed the silence of the forest. That
chain, that knife, those forks, were unquestionably the instruments of
slave-dealers; and what could those mutilated hands be, except the
relics of their ill-fated victims?
Harris and Negoro must be in a conspiracy!
It was with terrible anguish that Dick gnashed his teeth and muttered,--
"Yes, it is too true; we are in Africa! in equatorial Africa! in the
land of slavery! in the very haunt of slave-drivers!"
END OF FIRST PART.
*****
PART THE SECOND.
[Illustration: WEST COAST OF CENTRAL AFRICA.]
CHAPTER I.
THE DARK CONTINENT.
The "slave-trade" is an expression that ought never to have found its
way into any human language. After being long practised at a large
profit by such European nations as had possessions beyond the seas,
this abominable traffic has now for many years been ostensibly
forbidden; yet even in the enlightenment of this nineteenth century, it
is still largely carried on, especially in Central Africa, inasmuch as
there are several states, professedly Christian, whose signatures have
never been affixed to the deed of abolition.
Incredible as it should seem, this barter of human beings still exists,
and for the due comprehension of the second part of Dick Sands' story
it must be borne in mind, that for the purpose of supplying certain
colonies with slaves, there continue to be prosecuted such barbarous
"man-hunts" as threaten almost to lay waste an entire continent with
blood, fire, and pillage.
The nefarious traffic as far as regards negroes does not appear to have
arisen until the fifteenth century. The following are said to be the
circumstances under which it had its origin. After being banished from
Spain, the Mussulmans crossed the straits of Gibraltar and took refuge
upon the shores of Africa, but the Portuguese who then occupied that
portion of the coast persecuted the fugitives with the utmost severity,
and having captured them in large numbers, sent them as prisoners into
Portugal. They were thus the first nucleus of any African slaves that
entered Western Europe since the commencement of the Christian era. The
majority, however, of these Mussulmans were members of wealthy
families, who were prepared to pay almost any amount of money for their
release; but no ransom was exorbitant enough to tempt the Portuguese to
surrender them; more precious than gold were the strong arms that
should work the resources of their young and rising colonies. Thus
baulked in their purpose of effecting a direct ransom of their captured
relatives, the Mussulman families next submitted a proposition for
exchanging them for a larger number of African negroes, whom it would
be quite easy to procure. The Portuguese, to whom the proposal was in
every way advantageous, eagerly accepted the offer; and in this way the
slave-trade was originated in Europe.
By the end of the sixteenth century this odious traffic had become
permanently established; in principle it contained nothing repugnant to
the semi-barbarous thought and customs then existing; all the great
states recognized it as the most effectual means of colonizing the
islands of the New World, especially as slaves of negro blood, well
acclimatized to tropical heat, were able to survive where white men
must have perished by thousands. The transport of slaves to the
American colonies was consequently regularly effected by vessels
specially built for that purpose, and large dépôts for this branch of
commerce were established at various points of the African coast. The
"goods" cost comparatively little in production, and the profits were
enormous.
Yet, after all, however indispensable it might be to complete the
foundation of the trans-atlantic colonies, there was nothing to justify
this shameful barter of human flesh and blood, and the voice of
philanthropy began to be heard in protestation, calling upon all
European governments, in the name of mercy and common humanity, to
decree the abolition of the trade at once.
In 1751, the Quakers put themselves at the head of the abolitionist
movement in North America, that very land where, a hundred years later,
the war of secession burst forth, in which the question of slavery bore
the most conspicuous part. Several of the Northern States, Virginia,
Connecticut, Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania prohibited the trade,
liberating the slaves, in spite of the cost, who had been imported into
their territories.
The campaign, thus commenced, was not limited to a few provinces of the
New World; on this side of the Atlantic, too, the partisans of slavery
were subject to a vigourous attack. England and France led the van, and
energetically beat up recruits to serve the righteous cause. "Let us
lose our colonies rather than sacrifice our principles," was the
magnanimous watchword that resounded throughout Europe, and
notwithstanding the vast political and commercial interests involved in
the question, it did not go forth in vain. A living impulse had been
communicated to the liberation-movement. In 1807, England formally
prohibited the slave-trade in her colonies; France following her
example in 1814. The two great nations then entered upon a treaty on
the subject, which was confirmed by Napoleon during the Hundred Days.
Hitherto, however, the declaration was purely theoretical. Slave-ships
continued to ply their illicit trade, discharging their living cargo at
many a colonial port. It was evident that more resolute and practical
measures must be taken to impress the enormity. Accordingly the United
States in 1820, and Great Britain in 1824, declared the slave-trade to
be an act of piracy and its perpetrators to be punishable with death.
France soon gave in her adherence to the new treaty, but the Southern
States of America, and the Spanish and Portuguese, not having signed
the act of abolition, continued the importation of slaves at a great
profit, and this in defiance of the recognized reciprocal right of
visitation to verify the flags of suspected ships.
But although the slave-trade by these measures was in a considerable
measure reduced, it continued to exist; new slaves were not allowed,
but the old ones did not recover their liberty. England was now the
first to set a noble example. On the 14th of May, 1833, an Act of
Parliament, by a munificent vote of millions of pounds, emancipated all
the negroes in the British Colonies, and in August, 1838, 670,000
slaves were declared free men. Ten years later, in 1848, the French
Republic liberated the slaves in her colonies to the number of 260,000,
and in 1859 the war which broke out between the Federals and
Confederates in the United States finished the work of emancipation by
extending it to the whole of North America.
Thus, three great powers have accomplished their task of humanity, and
at the present time the slave-trade is carried on only for the
advantage of the Spanish and Portuguese colonies, or to supply the
requirements of the Turkish or Arab populations of the East. Brazil,
although she has not emancipated her former slaves, does not receive
any new, and all negro children are pronounced free-born.
In contrast, however, to all this, it is not to be concealed that, in
the interior of Africa, as the result of wars between chieftains waged
for the sole object of making captives, entire tribes are often reduced
to slavery, and are carried off in caravans in two opposite directions,
some westwards to the Portuguese colony of Angola, others eastwards to
Mozambique. Of these miserable creatures, of whom a very small
proportion ever reach their destination, some are despatched to Cuba or
Madagascar, others to the Arab or Turkish provinces of Asia, to Mecca
or Muscat. The French and English cruisers have practically very little
power to control the iniquitous proceedings, because the extent of
coast to be watched is so large that a strict and adequate surveillance
cannot be maintained. The extent of the odious export is very
considerable; no less than 24,000 slaves annually reach the coast, a
number that hardly represents a tenth part of those who are massacred
or otherwise perish by a deplorable end. After the frightful
butcheries, the fields lie devastated, the smouldering villages are
void of inhabitants, the rivers reek with bleeding corpses, and wild
beasts take undisputed possession of the soil. Livingstone, upon
returning to a district, immediately after one of these ruthless raids,
said that he could never have recognized it for the same that he had
visited only a few months previously; and all other travellers, Grant,
Speke, Burton, Cameron, Stanley, describe the wooded plateau of Central
Africa as the principal theatre of the barbarous warfare between chief
and chief. In the region of the great lakes, throughout the vast
district which feeds the market of Zanzibar, in Bornu and Fezzan,
further south on the banks of the Nyassa and Zambesi, further west in
the districts of the Upper Zaire, just traversed by the intrepid
Stanley, everywhere there is the recurrence of the same scenes of ruin,
slaughter, and devastation. Ever and again the question seems to be
forced upon the mind whether slavery is not to end in the entire
annihilation of the negro race, so that, like the Australian tribes of
South Holland, it will become extinct. Who can doubt that the day must
dawn which will herald the closing of the markets in the Spanish and
Portuguese colonies, a day when civilized nations shall no longer
tolerate the perpetration of this barbarous wrong?
It is hardly too much to say that another year ought to witness the
emancipation of every slave in the possession of Christian states. It
seems only too likely that for years to come the Mussulman nations will
continue to depopulate the continent of Africa; to them is due the
chief emigration of the natives, who, torn from their provinces, are
sent to the eastern coast in numbers that exceed 40,000 annually. Long
before the Egyptian expedition the natives of Sennaar were sold to the
natives of Darfur and _vice versa_; and even Napoleon Buonaparte
purchased a considerable number of negroes, whom he organized into
regiments after the fashion of the mamelukes. Altogether it may be
affirmed, that although four-fifths of the present century have passed
away, slave-traffic in Africa has been increased rather than diminished.
The truth is that Islamism really nurtures the slave-trade. In
Mussulman provinces, the black slave has taken the place of the white
slave of former times; dealers of the most questionable character bear
their part in the execrable business, bringing a supplementary
population to races which, unregenerated by their own labour, would
otherwise diminish and ultimately disappear.
As in the time of Buonaparte, these slaves often become soldiers; on
the Upper Niger, for instance, they still form half the army of certain
chieftains, under circumstances in which their lot is hardly, if at
all, inferior to that of free men. Elsewhere, where the slave is not a
soldier, he counts merely as current coin; and in Bornu and even in
Egypt, we are told by William Lejean, an eye-witness, that officers and
other functionaries have received their pay in this form.
Such, then, appears to be the present actual condition of the
slave-trade; and it is stern justice that compels the additional
statement that there are representatives of certain great European
powers who still favour the unholy traffic with an indulgent
connivance, and whilst cruisers are watching the coasts of the Atlantic
and of the Indian Ocean, kidnapping goes on regularly in the interior,
caravans pass along under the very eyes of certain officials, and
massacres are perpetrated in which frequently ten negroes are
sacrificed in the capture of a single slave.
It was the knowledge, more or less complete, of all this, that wrung
from Dick Sands his bitter and heart-rending cry:--
"We are in Africa! in the very haunt of slave-drivers!"
Too true it was that he found himself and his companions in a land
fraught with such frightful peril. He could only tremble when he
wondered on what part of the fatal continent the "Pilgrim" had
stranded. Evidently it was at some point of the west coast, and he had
every reason to fear that it was on the shores of Angola, the
rendezvous for all the caravans that journey in that portion of Africa.
His conjecture was correct; he really was in the very country that a
few years later and with gigantic effort was to be traversed by Cameron
in the south and Stanley in the north. Of the vast territory, with its
three provinces, Congo, Angola, and Benguela, little was then known
except the coast. It extends from the Zaire on the north to the Nourse
on the south, and its chief towns are the ports of Benguela and of St.
Paul de Loanda, the capital of the colony, which is a dependency of the
kingdom of Portugal. The interior of the country had been almost
entirely unexplored. Very few were the travellers who had cared to
venture far inland, for an unhealthy climate, a hot, damp soil
conducive to fever, a permanent warfare between the native tribes, some
of which are cannibals, and the ill-feeling of the slave-dealers
against any stranger who might endeavour to discover the secrets of
their infamous craft, all combine to render the region one of the most
hazardous in the whole of Equatorial Africa.
It was in 1816 that Tuckey ascended the Congo as far as the Yellala
Falls, a distance not exceeding 203 miles; but the journey was too
short to give an accurate idea of the interior of the country, and
moreover cost the lives of nearly all the officers and scientific men
connected with the expedition.
Thirty-seven years afterwards, Dr. Livingstone had advanced from the
Cape of Good Hope to the Upper Zambesi; thence, with a fearlessness
hitherto unrivalled, he crossed the Coango, an affluent of the Congo,
and after having traversed the continent from the extreme south to the
east he reached St. Paul de Loanda on the 31st of May, 1854, the first
explorer of the unknown portions of the great Portuguese colony.
Eighteen years elapsed, and two other bold travellers crossed the
entire continent from east to west, and after encountering unparalleled
difficulties, emerged, the one to the south, the other to the north of
Angola.
The first of these was Verney Lovett Cameron, a lieutenant in the
British navy. In 1872, when serious doubts were entertained as to the
safety of the expedition sent out under Stanley to the relief of
Livingstone in the great lake district, Lieutenant Cameron volunteered
to go out in search of the noble missionary explorer. His offer was
accepted, and accompanied by Dr. Dillon, Lieutenant Cecil Murphy, and
Robert Moffat, a nephew of Livingstone, he started from Zanzibar.
Having passed through Ugogo, he met Livingstone's corpse, which was
being borne to the eastern coast by his faithful followers. Unshaken in
his resolve to make his way right across the continent, Cameron still
pushed onwards to the west. He passed through Unyanyembe and Uganda,
and reached Kawele, where he secured all Livingstone's papers. After
exploring Lake Tanganyika he crossed the mountains of Bambarre, and
finding himself unable to descend the course of the Lualaba, he
traversed the provinces devastated and depopulated by war and the
slave-trade, Kilemba, Urua, the sources of the Lomami, Ulanda, and
Lovalé, and having crossed the Coanza, he sighted the Atlantic and
reached the port of St. Philip de Benguela, after a journey that had
occupied three years and five months. Cameron's two companions, Dr.
Dillon and Robert Moffat, both succumbed to the hardships of the
expedition.
The intrepid Englishman was soon to be followed into the field by an
American, Mr. Henry Moreland Stanley. It is universally known how the
undaunted correspondent of the _New York Herald_, having been
despatched in search of Livingstone, found the veteran missionary at
Ujiji, on the borders of Lake Tanganyika, on the 31st of October, 1871.
But what he had undertaken in the course of humanity Stanley longed to
continue in the interests of science, his prime object being to make a
thorough investigation of the Lualaba, of which, in his first
expedition, he had only been able to get a partial and imperfect
survey. Accordingly, whilst Cameron was still deep in the provinces of
Central Africa, Stanley started from Bagamoyo in November, 1874.
Twenty-one months later he quitted Ujiji, which had been decimated by
small-pox, and in seventy-four days accomplished the passage of the
lake and reached Nyangwe, a great slave-market previously visited both
by Livingstone and Cameron. He was also present at some of the horrible
razzias, perpetrated by the officers of the Sultan of Zanzibar in the
districts of the Marunzu and Manyuema.
In order to be in a position to descend the Lualaba to its very mouth,
Stanley engaged at Nyangwe 140 porters and nineteen boats. Difficulties
arose from the very outset, and not only had he to contend with the
cannibals of Ugusu, but, in order to avoid many unnavigable cataracts,
he had to convey his boats many miles by land. Near the equator, just
at the point where the Lualaba turns north-north-west, Stanley's little
convoy was attacked by a fleet of boats, manned by several hundred
natives, whom, however, he succeeded in putting to flight. Nothing
daunted, the resolute American pushed on to lat. 20° N. and
ascertained, beyond room for doubt, that the Lualaba was really the
Upper Zaire or Congo, and that, by following its course, he should come
directly to the sea.
Beset with many perils was the way. Stanley was in almost daily
collision with the various tribes upon the river-banks; on the 3rd of
June, 1877, he lost one of his companions, Frank Pocock, at the passage
of the cataracts of Massassa, and on the 18th of July he was himself
carried in his boat into the Mbelo Falls, and escaped by little short
of a miracle.
On the 6th of August the daring adventurer arrived at the village of Ni
Sanda, only four days from the sea; two days later he received a supply
of provisions that had been sent by two Emboma merchants to Banza
M'buko, the little coast-town where, after a journey of two years and
nine months, fraught with every kind of hardship and privation, he
completed his transit of the mighty continent. His toil told, at least
temporarily, upon his years, but he had the grand satisfaction of
knowing that he had traced the whole course of the Lualaba, and had
ascertained, beyond reach of question, that as the Nile is the great
artery of the north, and the Zambesi of the east, so Africa possesses
in the west a third great river, which in a course of no less than 2900
miles, under the names of the Lualaba, Zaire, and Congo, unites the
lake district with the Atlantic Ocean.
In 1873, however, the date at which the "Pilgrim" foundered upon the
coast, very little was known of the province of Angola, except that it
was the scene of the western slave-trade, of which the markets of Bihé,
Cassanga, and Kazunde were the chief centres. This was the country in
which Dick Sands now found himself, a hundred miles from shore, in
charge of a lady exhausted with fatigue and anxiety, a half-dying
child, and a band of negroes who would be a most tempting bait to the
slave-driver.
His last illusion was completely dispelled. He had no longer the
faintest hope that he was in America, that land where little was to be
dreaded from either native, wild beast, or climate; he could no more
cherish the fond impression that he might be in the pleasant region
between the Cordilleras and the coast, where villages are numerous and
missions afford hospitable shelter to every traveller. Far, far away
were those provinces of Bolivia and Peru, to which (unless a criminal
hand had interposed) the "Pilgrim" would certainly have sped her way.
No: too truly this was the terrible province of Angola; and worse than
all, not the district near the coast, under the surveillance of the
Portuguese authorities, but the interior of the country, traversed only
by slave caravans, driven under the lash of the havildars.
Limited, in one sense, was the knowledge that Dick Sands possessed of
this land of horrors; but he had read the accounts that had been given
by the missionaries of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, by the
Portuguese traders who frequented the route from St. Paul de Loanda, by
San Salvador to the Zaire, as well as by Dr. Livingstone in his travels
in 1853, and consequently he knew enough to awaken immediate and
complete despair in any spirit less indomitable than his own.
Anyhow, his position was truly appalling.
[Illustration: They were seated at the foot of an enormous banyan-tree.]