Mr Noalles, as I will still call him, spoke with difficulty, but some
secret impulse, it seemed, made him anxious to disburden his mind. "I
make these confessions to you, Burton," he said, "because I want you to
convey to my poor wife, should you ever return to England, the
expression of my sorrow for the way I treated her; and if you can by any
means discover my daughter, that you may tell her, her miserable father
died blessing her; though, alas! I feel that blessings proceeding from
such lips as mine may turn to curses. But I did not tell you that
mercifully she escaped the dreadful fate to which I devoted her. Among
the passengers on board the ship in which we went out to India was a
young writer. He was pleasing in his manners, but far more retiring and
silent than his companions, and I did not for a moment suppose that he
was likely to win the affections of my daughter. He had already been in
India some years, and was returning after a short absence. He therefore
knew the country, and immediately on landing proceeded to his station.
I flattered myself that I had got rid of him, for latterly I had
observed that my daughter was more pleased with his society than with
that of anybody else on board. We remained some time at Calcutta,
where, as I expected, my daughter was greatly admired. I, meantime, was
perfecting myself in Hindostanee, and gaining information to guide my
further proceedings. At length we got off up the country, but on the
way I was taken seriously ill. It happened to be at the very station
where Mr Bramston was residing. He heard of my being there and
instantly called, and very naturally pressed his suit with my daughter.
Believing that I was dying, I consented to his becoming her lawful
protector, for otherwise I dreaded lest she should be left in the
country alone and destitute. Scarcely, however, had the marriage taken
place than I recovered, and all the plans I had designed were brought to
nothing. I found that my character was suspected, and hastening back to
Calcutta, I took a passage on board a ship bound for Canton, again
changing my name to that by which you know me. From that time forward I
have knocked about in these seas in various capacities, just able to
support myself, but ever failing to gain the wealth for which I had been
ready at one time to sell my soul. Of the child I had loved so dearly I
had never heard. If she wrote to me, her letters must have miscarried,
and from that day to this I have received no tidings of her. Often and
often I have thought of returning to India, but the dread of being
recognised has deterred me, and I felt that my appearance would more
likely produce shame and annoyance than afford her any satisfaction or
pleasure. Thus all my plans and schemings have come to an end, and such
fruits as they have produced have been bitter indeed; I cannot talk
more, Burton. Promise me that you will try to find out my daughter and
her husband. Bramston, remember, Charles Bramston of the Civil
Service--the Bengal Presidency, and his wife bore the name of Emily
Herbert. Herbert was the name I then assumed. She often asked me
questions about her childhood, but I invariably led her off the subject,
so that of that she knew nothing. Tell her that you saw her father die,
and that his last thoughts were of her."
I entreated the unfortunate man to keep up his spirits. I pointed out
that we were approaching the shore, and that before many hours had
passed we should probably land on it; when, although the Dutch were our
enemies, our forlorn condition would assuredly excite their compassion,
and induce them to afford us all the relief we could require. "Do not
trust too much to them," he answered slowly. "Besides, the natives on
this coast are savage fellows, who would scruple very little to put us
all to death, and as to getting on shore at all, you will not be there
for many hours, depend on that!"
He ceased; appearing very much exhausted from having spoken so long.
His sufferings, indeed, also, had become very intense, for the salt
water and the heat of the sun had greatly inflamed his legs, which had
been severely burnt. His voice, in a short time, almost failed, but his
lips continued to move, and I heard him murmuring, "Water! Water! Oh!
Give me but one drop to cool my tongue! Where am I? Is this hell begun
already? Water! Water! Will no one have compassion on a burning
wretch?"
Still, so strong was his constitution, that in spite of his sufferings
he lingered on. Another poor man, apparently not more hurt than he was,
in a short time sank under the injuries he had received. The man had
been sitting up trying to catch a breath of air, when suddenly he
uttered a low groan, and fell back on the platform.
"The poor fellow is dead, I am afraid," said Esse, taking up his hand,
which fell helpless to the position from which it had been raised. "Can
we do anything to restore him?"
"There is no use," said Pember, putting his hand on the man's mouth, "he
will never speak again. The sooner we heave him overboard the better."
He was the first of our number we had to launch into the deep. The body
floated astern for some time, and we could scarcely help casting uneasy
glances at it. "Oh! Look! Look! He was alive after all!" exclaimed
Esse. We turned round. The body seemed to rise half out of the water,
the arms waving wildly. Then down it sank and disappeared from view.
We also expected to hear a shriek proceed from it. "Oh, Pember!" I
exclaimed, "why did you let us throw him overboard? What a dreadful
thing!"
"Save your sympathy for those who want it, youngster," answered the old
mate. "He was as dead as a door nail. Don't fear that. Jack Shark had
got hold of his heels, and that made the body rise suddenly out of the
water, as you saw him. Well! It will be the lot of more of us before
long. I do not like the look of the weather. I wonder what Mr Noalles
thinks of it." Noalles, however, was unable to speak. The wind was
increasing, and the sea had already got up considerably, making the raft
work in a very unsatisfactory manner. We had the greatest difficulty in
holding on, while the smaller pieces of timber, which had been less
securely lashed to the frame-work, began to part. Still we ran towards
the island, our sail helping us considerably. As the sea increased,
steering became more difficult, while the lower part of the raft was so
completely immersed in the water, that we had the greatest difficulty in
preventing ourselves being washed off, when the foaming seas came
rolling over it. We held on as best we could, by the beckets, which had
been secured to the raft for this purpose. We had all now reason to
dread that we should lose our own lives; for though the raft appeared to
be still approaching the shore, yet so furiously was it tumbled about by
the fast rising seas, that we could with difficulty cling on to it,
while we could scarcely hope that it would hold together. Noalles, as I
have said, had been with Pember and two other men on the platform. A
foam-covered sea came roaring towards us. We all held on to the main
part of the raft. The sea struck it, and before we could make any
effort to secure it, away it was carried, to a considerable distance
from us, with our three shipmates still resting on it. It seemed
surprising that they should not have been washed off. The same sea
carried off one of our number, thus leaving six of us only clinging to
the main part of the raft. At the same moment our mast and sail were
carried away, and we were left at the mercy of the seas. In vain we
endeavoured with the paddles, which we had saved, to get up to the other
raft. It appeared to be receding further and further from us, when
another sea, similar in size to that which had torn it from the main
part, struck it with full force, and hid it from our view. We looked
again. The few fragments of the wreck could alone be seen; but our late
companions had sunk beneath the surface of the troubled waters, which
now leaped, and foamed, and raged above their heads. We had little time
to mourn their fate, for we were compelled to look after our own safety.
Night was coming on. A dreary prospect was before us. Still Pat Brady
kept up his spirits wonderfully. "Sure, Mr Burton, old Mother Macrone
of Ballynahinch was after prophesying you would become an admiral one of
these days, and sure if we was drownded, we should not live to see it,
nor you neither for that matter; and so sure as Mistress Macrone is an
honest woman, and spoke the truth, we need not be after throubling
ourselves about not getting to land. It will be some time before we can
manage to reach it, however." I cannot say that Paddy's remarks had
much effect on us, although I fully believe he spoke what he thought to
be the truth. We were still a long way from the land, when darkness
settled down upon us, and the shattered raft continued tossing up and
down on the foaming seas. Every instant we thought would be our last,
for we knew that the spars to which we were clinging might be torn from
the frame-work, and we might be deprived of our last remaining support.
Still, life was sweet to all of us. We who had escaped were the least
injured of the party. Twelve had left the wreck, six now alone remained
alive, two only of the crew of the ill-fated frigate--Smith, an
Englishman, and Sandy McPherson, from the North of the Tweed. They were
both brave, determined fellows, but Sandy's spirit was troubled, not so
much, apparently, by the fearful position in which we were placed, as by
what he called Pat Brady's recklessness and frivolity. Even when thus
clinging to our frail raft, now tossed high up on a foaming sea, now
sent gliding down into the bottom of the trough with darkness around us,
almost starved, and our throats parched by thirst, Brady's love of a
joke would still break forth. "Arrah, but it's illegant dancing we're
learning out here!" he exclaimed, "though, faith, I would rather it were
on the green turf than footing it on the top of the green waves, but we
will be safe on shore before many hours are over."
"Ay, laddie, but it's ill dancing o'er the graves of your friends,"
observed Sandy. "Just think where they are, and where we may be not ten
minutes hence. You will not keep the breath in your body half that time
under the salt water, and we may, one and all of us, be fathoms deep
before five minutes have passed away."
Sandy spoke what we all knew to be the truth, but still we would rather
have shut our eyes to the unpleasant fact. It is extraordinary that men
should be able to disregard the future, even when on the very brink of
the grave. Is it apathy, or stolid indifference, or disbelief in a
future existence that enables them to do so? I speak of those without
the Christian's hope--men who lead profligate lives; men stained with a
thousand crimes; men who have never feared God, who seemed scarcely to
have a knowledge of God. I have thought the matter over, and have come
to the conclusion that some men have the power of shutting out thought.
They dare not let thought intrude for a moment. They struggle
desperately against thought. Sometimes thought conquers, and then
fearful is their condition. Then the terrors of hell rise up, and they
would give ten thousand worlds to escape the doom they know well they
have merited. Even now I do not like to think of that night. Slowly
the hours dragged on. We fancied as we rose to the top of the sea, that
the wind was blowing with even greater force than before, and our frail
raft was dashed here and there, with even greater violence than it had
yet endured. We felt it breaking up. With a desperate grip we held on
to the larger portions of the timber which composed it. At length it
parted, and Kiddle and I were left clinging to one part, while our four
companions held on to the other. We could scarcely hope finally to
escape. The two portions, however, continued floating within hailing
distance of each other. We shouted to our friends to hold on. Pat
Brady answered with a cheerful "Ay! Ay!" It cheered our spirits
somewhat, though not very greatly, it must be owned. From that moment
the sea appeared to be going down, and gradually daylight, which we
thought had been much further off, stole over the world of waters.
Fortunately there were some thin boards still secured to the portion of
the raft which supported Kiddle and me. We agreed to tear them up, and
with them to paddle towards our friends.
After a considerable amount of labour we reached them, and immediately
set to work, as the sea had again become almost smooth, to repair our
raft. So thirsty had we become by this time, that it was with
difficulty we could avoid drinking the salt water. We counselled each
other, however, not to do so, well knowing the ill effects which would
be produced. We felt now the loss of our sail, for the wind was setting
directly on shore. Still, slight as was the breeze, it assisted us
along, when we stood up, which we did by turns, while the rest laboured
with the paddles we had constructed. We gazed anxiously at the land,
but the current still appeared to be sweeping towards the south.
Suddenly it changed, and we advanced with far more rapidity than we had
hitherto done. We could now distinguish objects on the shore. We
looked out eagerly. No houses or huts were to be seen, nor any vessels
at anchor. A heavy surf, however, was setting on the beach, and Kiddle
urged us on no account to attempt to land there. This was tantalising,
but the danger of having our raft upset and being carried out to sea was
too great to be encountered. With might and main, therefore, we
continued to paddle along the shore, hoping to find some place into
which we might stand with less danger. We had to continue for some
distance, till at length we got round a point by which the land on the
other side was completely sheltered. We could scarcely hope to find a
better place. And now, exerting ourselves to the utmost, we made
towards the beach. With thankfulness did we hear the timbers grate
against the sand. Esse and Brady, who were nearest the shore, attempted
to spring on to the beach, but so weak were they, as we all were, that
in doing so they fell flat on their faces. Had we not kept the raft off
with our paddles, the next sea which came up would have thrown it over
them. By great exertions they worked themselves up, however, out of the
reach of the water, and the rest of us crawled on shore with more
caution. We looked round. No one was to be seen. Our first impulse
was to throw ourselves down on the sand and rest, but scarcely had we
done so when the sensation of thirst came over us, and weak as we were
we set out at once to search for water. The trees came down very nearly
to the shore, here and there rocks appearing among them. We soon
separated, each one going in the direction in which he hoped he should
find the longed-for fluid. I went forward almost as in a dream. My eye
at length caught sight of a rock at a little distance. I had a feeling
that water would be found not far off. A sound struck my ear--a low,
soft, trickling. Yes! It was water, I was sure of it--I almost fell in
my eagerness to hurry on. I cannot easily forget the delight with which
my eye rested on a natural fountain--a rocky basin, into which a bright
stream flowed from a crevice in the rock. I rushed on shouting out
"Water! Water!" Eagerly I put my mouth to the pure fountain-head. Oh!
How deliciously sweet I found it! I let it run over my face, parched
and cracked by the hot sun and salt water. Brady, who was nearest to
me, heard me shout. "Hurrah, lads! Hurrah, lads! Here's water!" he
cried out, making a few attempts at leaps, as he rushed forward. The
others took up the cry, till the whole six of us were putting our mouths
to the fountain, for scarcely had I withdrawn mine than I returned again
for a fresh draught, the others doing the same thing. It is surprising
that we did ourselves no harm by the quantity we swallowed. Brady
declared that he heard it fizzing away as it went down his throat, from
the heat of his inside.