Now, it is not in the nature of things that man, in his present state,
should attain to full satisfaction. He may, indeed he should, attain to
contentment, but as long as there are higher and better things within
his reach, he must of necessity remain in some degree unsatisfied.
Some such idea must have been passing through Robin Wright's brain one
fine morning, as he slowly paced the deck of a small schooner with his
friend Sam Shipton, for he suddenly broke a prolonged silence with the
following remark:--
"I don't know how it is, Sam, but although I am surrounded with
everything that should make a fellow happy, I'm--I'm _not_ happy. In
fact, I'm as miserable as it is possible to be!"
"Come now, Robin, don't exaggerate," said Sam in a remonstrative tone.
"Hyperbole is very objectionable, especially in young men. You know
that if you were tied to a huge gridiron over a slow fire, you would be
more miserable than you are at present."
Robin smiled and admitted the truth of this, but nevertheless reiterated
his assertion that he was decidedly unhappy.
This conversation, we may remark, took place on board of Sam Shipton's
yacht, off the west coast of Scotland, several years after the events
narrated in the previous chapter.
"Well, now, it is strange," said Sam, with an earnestly sympathetic air
and tone of voice, but with the faintest possible twinkle in the extreme
corner of one of his eyes. "Let me see--everything, as you justly
remark, ought to make you happy here. The weather, to begin with--
people always begin with the weather, you know--is splendid, though
there is a thundery look about the horizon to the west'ard. Then our
yacht, the Gleam, is a perfect duck, both as to her sea-going and
sailing qualities, and Captain James Slagg is a perfect seaman, while
Stumps is a superlative steward and cook. Our time is our own, and the
world before us where to choose. Then, as to our companionship, what
female society could be more agreeable than that of my wife Madge, and
her bosom friend Letta, who, since she has grown up, has become one of
the most beautiful, fascinating, charming,--but why go on, when, in the
language of the poet, `adequate words is wantin'!' And Letta's mother
is second only to herself. Then as to the men, could there be found
anywhere finer fellows than uncle Rik and Ebenezer Smith, and Frank
Hedley--to say nothing of myself and our splendid little boy Sammy? I
can't understand it, Robin. You're not ill, are you?"
"Ill? no. Never was better in my life."
"Well, then, what is it? Be confidential, my boy. The witching hour of
sunrise is fitted for confidential communications. You're not in love,
are--"
"Hush, Sam! the skylight is open. Come forward to the bows. Yes, Sam,
I _am_ in love."
"Well, Robin, I can't pretend ignorance, for I know it--at least I have
seen it."
"Seen it!" echoed Robin, "how is that? I have never by word or look
given the slightest indication to any one, of the state of my feelings."
"True, Robin, as regards words, but there are other modes of indication,
as must be well-known to a celebrated electrician like yourself. The
fact is, my dear boy, that you and Letta have been rubbing your
intellects together for so many years, that you have electrified each
other--the one positively, the other negatively; and even a Manx cat
with an absent mind and no tail could hardly fail to observe the
telegraphic communication which you have established by means of that
admirable duplex instrument, a pair of eyes."
"You distress me very much, Sam," returned Robin, seriously. "I assure
you I have never consciously done anything of the sort, and I have never
opened my lips to Letta on the subject--I dare not."
"I believe you as to your consciousness; but, to be serious, Robin, why
should being in love make you miserable?"
"Because it makes me doubt whether Letta cares for me."
"Nonsense, Robin. Take my advice, put an end to your doubts, and make
sure of your ground by taking heart and proposing to Letta."
"I dare not, Sam. It is all very well for a fine manly fellow like you
to give such advice, but I am such a poor, miserable sort of--"
"Hallo, fasser!" cried a merry voice at that moment, "how red de sun
am!"
The owner of the voice--a mere chip of a child, in perfect miniature
middy costume--ran up to its father and was hoisted on his shoulder.
"Yes, the sun is very red, like your own face, Sammy, my boy, to say
nothing of cousin Robin's. Where is mamma?"
The question was answered by mamma herself, our old friend Madge
Mayland, coming up the companion-hatch,--tall, dark, beautiful, like the
spirit of departed night. She was followed by Letta,--graceful, fair,
sunny, like the spirit of the coming morn.
"Sunbeam, ahoy!" came up through the cabin skylight at that moment, like
the sonorous voice of Neptune.
"Well, grunkle Rik, w'at is it?" shouted Sammy, in silvery tones, from
his father's shoulder.
"Grunkle" was the outcome of various efforts made to teach Sammy to call
the old captain grand-uncle.
"Where have you stowed away my hair-brush, you rascal?" cried the voice
of thunder.
"It's under my bunk, grunkle; I was bracking yous boots with it."
The thunder subsided in tempestuous mutterings, and Sammy, feeling that
he had begun the day well, struggled out of his father's arms and went
careering round the deck into every possible position of danger. He
kept them all lively until Stumps caught him and extinguished him, for a
time, with breakfast.
"Uncle Rik," said Sam, while that meal was being discussed in the
snuggest little cabin that could be imagined, "did you hear of the
extraordinary manner in which a whale was caught by a telegraph cable
lately?"
"No, I didn't, Sam, an' what's more, I wouldn't believe it if I did."
"It is true, nevertheless," said Sam, breaking his fifth egg--sea
breezes being appetising.
"How did it happen, Sam?" asked Madge.
"In a very curious manner Madge. It will amuse Letta, for I know she
takes a deep interest in cables."
"Indeed it will," said Letta, who was the soul of earnest simplicity; "I
delight in electric cables."
Robin looked at Letta, and wished that he were an electric cable!
"It happened to the Persian Gulf cable, quite recently," continued Sam,
addressing himself to Letta. "The cable between Kurrachee and Gwadur, a
distance of 300 miles, suddenly failed one evening. Now, you must know
that electrical science has advanced with such rapid strides of late,
that we have the power to discover pretty nearly the exact position of a
fault in a cable. Of course I cannot expect a young lady to understand
the technical details of the mode, in which this is done, but you will
understand that by tests taken at either end the damage appeared to be
about 118 miles from Kurrachee, and a telegraph steamer was sent with an
electrical and engineering staff to repair it. The steamer reached the
supposed locality early on the morning of the second day out, and
proceeded at once to grapple for the cable, though a thick fog prevailed
at the time, and a heavy sea was running.
"The soundings at the place were very irregular, implying a rugged
bottom of submarine mountain-tops and valleys. On winding in the cable
unusual resistance was experienced, as if it were foul of rocks, and
when, after great difficulty, they drew it up they found that this was
caused by the body of an immense whale, with two and a half turns of the
cable round it immediately above the tail."
"Pooh! boh!" exclaimed uncle Rik, "I don't believe it."
"But I do, uncle," returned Sam, as he opened his sixth egg, "for I read
the account of it in one of the engineering journals, in which dates and
names were given. The steamer was the Amber Witch, commanded by Captain
Bishop, and the staff of operators were under Mr Harry Mance. The body
of the huge creature was found to be rapidly decomposing, the jaws
falling away as it reached the surface, and sharks had evidently been
devouring it. The tail, which measured twelve feet across, was covered
with barnacles at the extremities."
"But how could it have entangled itself so?" asked Mrs Langley.
"They suppose that at the time the whale had found a part of the cable
hanging in a deep loop over a submarine precipice, and, thinking the
chance a good one no doubt for scraping off the barnacles and other
parasites that annoy whales very much, had probably twisted the cable
round him with a flip of his tail. Anyhow, the fact is unquestionable
that it held him fast until he was fished up dead by the electricians
and engineers."
"How strange!" murmured Letta.
"It is indeed," responded Robin, "the most extraordinary case I ever
heard of, though cables are subject to many singular accidents. I
remember one case of accident to the cable across the river Yar, in the
Isle of Wight. A bullock fell from the deck of a vessel, and, in its
struggles, caught the cable and broke it."
"I have read of several very singular cases," said Sam, "in which cables
have been attacked and damaged by inhabitants of the sea. The Cuba and
Florida cable was once damaged by the bite of some large fish, and a
similar accident happened to the China cable. In the Malta-Alexandria
cable, a piece of the core from which the sheathing had been worn was
found to have been bitten by a shark, and pieces of the teeth were found
sticking in the gutta-percha."
"I thought it was to the Singapore cable that that happened," said
Robin.
"No, but something similar happened to it. That cable was laid in
December. In the following March a stoppage occurred. The fault was
spotted at 200 miles from Singapore. When hauled up, the cable was
found to have been pierced, and bits of crushed bone were sticking in
the hole. The piece was cut out and sent to Mr Frank Buckland, who,
after long and careful examination, came to the conclusion that it had
been the work of a saw-fish."
"Dear me, Mr Shipton," said Mrs Langley, "you speak as if every part
of the world were connected by electric cables."
"And such is the case," said Sam; "we have now direct communication by
submarine cable and land telegraph with every part of Europe; with
Canada and the United States; down South America, nearly to Cape Horn;
with Africa from Algiers to the Cape of Good Hope; with India from
Afghanistan to Ceylon; with China from Pekin to Hong-Kong; and down
through the Malacca Archipelago, Australia, and Tasmania."
"I say, Sam, are you a member of the Royal Geographical Society, or a
walking atlas?" asked uncle Rik.
"In short," continued Sam, not heeding the interruption, "there isn't a
civilised quarter of the globe which is not tied to us by telegraph, and
from which we might not hear any morning of the events of the preceding
day."
"Always excepting Central Africa and the two poles," said the captain.
"I said civilised quarters," retorted Sam, "and, as far as I know, the
poles are inhabited only by bears."
"True, I forgot, the poles are barely civilised," said uncle Rik.
"Now, Master Sammy," growled a deep voice from the adjoining galley,
"you keep your hands out o' that copper."
"Fasser," shouted a silvery voice from the same region, "'Tumps is
naughty. I wants to wass my hands in de soup, an' he won't let me."
"Quite right. Keep him in order, Stumps," said the unfeeling Sam,
senior.
"Dere--pa says I's kite right, an' to keep you in order, 'Tumps," said
the silvery voice. (Then, after a few minutes), "Grunkle Rik, is you
finish bekfist?"
"Ay, ay, Sunbeam, quite finished."
"Den come on deck an' p'ay vid me."
Uncle Rik rose with a laugh, and obediently went on deck to play. But
the play did not last long, for that day ominous clouds rose in the
west, and, overspreading the sky, soon drenched the little yacht with
rain. Towards evening the rain ceased, but the wind increased to a
gale, and the weather showed signs of becoming what is known among
seamen, we believe, as dirty. Ere long the low mutterings of thunder
increased to mighty peals, and the occasional gleams of lightning to
frequent and vivid flashes, that lit up the scene with the brilliancy of
full moonlight.
"I wish we were nearer shore," said Letta, timidly, to Robin, as they
stood looking over the bulwarks; "what is the land we see far away on
our left?"
"The Island of Mull," returned Robin.
"Better if it was further away," growled Captain Rik, who overheard the
remark. "We want plenty of sea-room on a night like this."
"We've got sea-room enough," observed "Captain" Slagg, with the
confidence of a man who knows well what he is about, as he stood by the
tiller, balancing himself with his legs well apart.
"You've got a lightning conductor on the mast, of course?" observed
Captain Rik to Sam.
"No," replied Sam.
"Sam!" exclaimed the captain in a tone of intense surprise, "you, of all
men, without such a safeguard."
"Well, uncle Rik," replied Sam with a laugh, "yachts are not always
fitted with conductors. But I'm not so bad as you think me. I had
ordered a special conductor with some trifling novelties of construction
for the yacht, but it was not ready when we started, so we had to sail
without it. However, it is not once in a thousand times that a vessel
is struck by lightning."
While Sam was yet speaking, a flash of lightning almost blinded them,
and the little schooner received a shock which told of disaster. Next
moment the roar of reverberating thunder drowned the crash of timber as
the topmast went overboard, carrying the bowsprit and its gear along
with it.
Fortunately no one was hurt, but the schooner became unmanageable, owing
to the mass of wreckage which hung to her.
Jim Slagg, seizing an axe, sprang to the side to cut this away, ably
seconded by all the men on board, but before it could be accomplished
the Gleam had drifted dangerously near to the rocks on the coast of
Mull. To add to the confusion, the darkness became intense.
Captain Rik, forgetting or ignoring his years, had thrown off his coat
and was working like a hero with the rest. The ladies, unable to remain
below, were clinging to the stern rails, Madge holding her little boy
tightly in her arms, and the spray dashing wildly over all.
Another moment and the Gleam struck on the rocks with tremendous
violence. Only by the lightning could they see the wild rocky shore, on
which they had drifted.
Instinctively each member of the little crew drew towards those nearest
and dearest.
"Get out the boat!" shouted Captain Slagg; but the men could not obey,
for a heavy sea had anticipated them, and the little dinghy was already
careering shoreward, bottom up.
The next wave lifted the Gleam like a cork, and let her down on the
rocks like fifty-six tons of lead. A flash of lightning revealed for a
moment a range of frowning cliffs, as if to add horror to a scene that
was already sufficiently appalling. Then all was again dark as Erebus.
In a frenzy of resolution Captain Rik seized an axe with the view of
extemporising a raft, when the Gleam parted amidships, and we might
almost say went out, leaving her crew struggling in the waves.
Sam had seized his wife with his strong left arm--he happened to be
left-handed--and buffeted the waves with his right. Madge held on to
Sammy with the power of maternal love. Sam was aware of that, and felt
comparatively at ease in regard to his first-born.
Robin's arm had been round Letta's waist--unknown to himself or her!--
when the Gleam struck. It did not relax when he felt that they were
afloat. Frank Hedley gallantly offered to take charge of Mrs Langley.
Ebenezer Smith, being unable to swim, confessed the fact, with something
of a gasp, to Captain Rik, who considerately told him never to mind.
"I can swim for both," he said, tying a piece of rope-yarn tight round
his waist, for he had long before cast off coat, vest, and braces; "but
you ought to be ashamed of yourself, a man come to your time o' life,
an' not able to swim!"
"I never lived near the sea, and had no one to teach me," pleaded
Ebenezer in a tremblingly apologetic voice, for the roar of united wind,
waves, and thunder was really tremendous even to those who _could_ swim.
"What o' that?" returned Captain Rik, sternly. "Was there no river or
pond nigh? Even a horse-trough or a washing-tub would have sufficed to
make a man of you. As for teaching--what teaching did you want?
Swimmin' ain't Latin or Greek. It ain't even mathematics--only
aquatics. All the brute beasts swim--even donkeys swim without
teaching. Boh! bah! There, lay hold o' me--so. Now, mind, if you try
to take me round the neck with your two arms I'll plant my fist on the
bridge of your nose, an' let you go to Davy Jones's locker."
A flash of lightning revealed Captain Rik's face in such a way that
Ebenezer Smith resolved to obey him to the letter.
It was at this point of their conversation that the Gleam went down--or
out--and they sank with a gurgle, coming up next moment, however, with a
gasp.
Strange to say, after the first plunge and overthrow amid the boiling
waves, the swimmers found themselves in almost still water.
"You'd better let me take Sammy, ma'am," said Captain Slagg, swimming
quietly alongside of Madge, and speaking in the calm tone of a man
taking an evening stroll.
"Is that you, Slagg?" asked Sam, who was striking out vigorously.
"Yes, sir, it is," said Slagg. "You've no need to exert yourself, sir,
so violently. I know the spot well. We've bin washed clean over the
reef by the wave that sank us, into a sort o' nat'ral harbour, an' we
ain't far from shore. I can feel bottom now, sir, which, bein' a
six-footer, you'll touch easy."
"So I do!" exclaimed Sam, letting down his feet. "Madge, darling, cheer
up, we've got soundings. Give Sammy to Slagg. There, we'll do famously
now."
Only those who have been for a few moments in deadly peril can
understand the feeling of intense relief that came to Sam Shipton's
heart when he felt his toes touch ground on that eventful night. The
feeling was expressed in his tone of voice as he asked Slagg whether he
had seen any of the others.
"No, sir, I ain't seen 'em for want o' light, but I've heerd 'em.
Stumps is splutterin' behind us like a grampus. If you'll hold on a bit
an' listen you'll hear him. He's a bad swimmer, and it's all he can do
to save hisself. If he only knowed he could reach bottom with his long
legs, he'd find it easier. Not quite so tight, Sammy, my boy, and keep
off the wind-pipe--so; you're quite safe, my lad. As for the rest of
'em, sir, they all swim like ducks except Mr Ebbysneezer Smith, but
he's took charge on by Captin Rik, so you may keep your mind easy.
There's a bit o' flat beach hereabouts, an' no sea inside the reef, so
we'll git ashore easy enough--let's be thankful."
Jim Slagg was right. They got ashore without difficulty, and they
_were_ thankful--profoundly so--when they had time to think of the
danger they had escaped.
After a few minutes' rest and wringing of salt water from their
garments, they proceeded inland to search for shelter, and well was it
for the shipwrecked party that the captain of the lost yacht was
acquainted with the lie of the land, for it was a rugged shore, with
intermingled fields and morasses, and wooded rocky heights, among which
it would have been difficult, if not impossible, to thread one's way in
the dark without severe damage to the shins. But Jim Slagg led them to
a cottage not far from the sea, where they received from the family
resident there at the time a warm and hearty Scottish welcome.
It is not uncommon, we suspect, for eccentric natures to undertake the
most important matters at the most unsuitable times and in the most
ridiculous manners. At all events Robin Wright, while stumbling among
the rocks and rugged ground of that midnight march in Mull, dripping wet
and with the elements at war around him, conceived the idea of declaring
his unalterable, not to say unutterable, attachment to Letta Langley,
who leant heavily on the arm of her preserver. But Robin was intensely
sensitive. He shrank from the idea, (which he had only got the length
of conceiving), as if it had been a suggestion from beneath. It would
be unfair, mean, contemptible, he thought, to take advantage of the
darkness and the elemental noise to press his suit at such a time. No,
he would wait till the morrow.
He did wait for the morrow. Then he waited for the morrow afterwards,
and as each morrow passed he felt that more morrows must come and go,
for it was quite obvious that Letta regarded him only as a brother.
At last, unable to bear it, our unhappy hero suddenly discovered that
one of the morrows was the last of his leave of absence, so he said
good-bye in despair, and parted from his companions, who could not
resist the genial hospitality of their new friends in the cottage on the
west of Mull.
Ten days later Sam got a letter from Robin, telling him that he had
received a cable-telegram from India, from their friend Redpath,
offering him a good situation there, and that, having reached the lowest
depths of despair, he had resolved to accept it, and was sorry he should
not have an opportunity of saying good-bye, as he was urged to start
without a day's delay.
Sam was staying with his friends at the Oban Hotel at the time, having
at last managed to tear himself away from the cottage in Mull.