Story 2—Chapter 1.

Story 2—Chapter 1.Why I did not become a Sailor.There is mystery connected with the incidents which I am about to relate. Looked at from one point of view, the whole affair is mysterious—eminently so; yet, regarded from another point of view, it is not so mysterious as it seems. Whatever my reader may think about it as he goes along, I entreat him to suspend his judgment until he has reached the conclusion of my narrative. My only reason for bringing this mysterious matter before the public is, that, in addition to filling me with unutterable surprise, it had the effect of quenching one of my strongest desires, and effectually prevented my becoming a sailor.This, I freely admit, is not in itself a sufficient reason to justify my rushing into print. But when I regard the matter from what may be termed a negative point of view, I do feel that it is not absolutely presumptuous in me to claim public attention. Suppose that Sir John Franklin had never gone to sea; what a life of adventure and discovery would have been lost to the world! what deeds of heroism undone, and, therefore, untold! I venture to think, that if that great navigator had not gone to sea, it would have been a matter of interest, (knowing what we now know), to have been told that such was the case. In this view of the matter I repeat it, as being of possible future interest, that the incident I am about to relate prevented my becoming a sailor.I am said to be a soft boy—that is to say, Iwassaid to be soft. I’m a man now, but, of course, I was a boy once. I merely mention this to prove that I make no pretension whatever to unusual wisdom; quite the reverse. I hate sailing under false colours—not that I ever did sail under any colours, never having become a sailor—and yet I shouldn’t say that, either, for that’s the very point round which all the mystery hangs. Ididgo to sea! I’m rather apt to wander, I find, from my point, and to confuse my own mind, (I trust not the reader’s). Perhaps the shortest way to let you understand how it was is to tell you all about it.My name is Robert Smith—not an unusual name, I am given to understand. It was of little use to me during the period of my boyhood, for I never got any other name than Bob—sometimessoftwas added. I had a father. He loved me. As a natural consequence, I loved him. He was old, partially bald, silver-haired, kind, affectionate, good, five feet six, and wore spectacles. I, at the time I write of; was young, stout, well-grown, active, and had a long nose—much too long a nose: it was the only point in regard to which I was sensitive. It was owing to the length of this member, I believe, that I once went by the name of Mozambique. You see, I conceal nothing. The remarkable—the mysterious—the every way astonishing incidents I am about to relate, require that I should be more than usually careful and particular in stating things precisely as I saw them and understood them at the time.In this view of the matter I should remark that the softness with which I was charged did not refer to my muscles—they were hard and well developed—but to my intellect. I take this opportunity of stating that I think the charge unjust. But, to conclude my description of myself; I am romantic. One of my dearest companions used to say that my nose was the same, minus the tic! What he meant by that I never could make out. I doubt if he himself knew.My chief delight in my leisure hours was to retire to my bedroom and immerse myself in books of travel and adventure. This was my mania. No one can conceive the delight I experienced in following heroes of every name over the pathless deep and through the trackless forests of every clime. My heart swelled within me, and the blood rushed through my veins like liquid fire, as I read of chasing lions, tigers, elephants, in Africa; white bears and walrus in the Polar regions; and deer and bisons on the American prairies. I struggled long to suppress the flame that consumed me, but I could not. It grew hotter and hotter. At last, it burst forth—and this brings me to the point.I thought—one dark, dismal night in the middle of November—I thought, (mind, I don’t say I determined; no, but I thought), of running away from home and going to sea!I confess it with shame. The image of my dear father rose before me with a kind and sorrowful look. I repented; started to my feet, and seized the book I was reading with the intention of tossing it into the fire. In doing so, I accidentally turned over a leaf. There was an illustration on the page. I looked at it. An African savage firing the whole contents of a six-barrelled revolver down the throat of a Bengal tiger, without, apparently, doing it any harm! I thought not of the incongruous combination. My soul was fired anew. Once again I thought of running away from home and going to sea—not by any means with the intention of remaining at sea, but for the purpose of reaching foreign—if possible—unknown lands.Having conceived the thought, I rose calmly, shut the book carefully, but with decision, thrust my hands firmly into my pockets, knitted my brows, and went out in search of my bosom friend John Brown—also a commonplace name, I believe—at least, so it is said.Jack, as I used to call him, had a mother, but no father—his father died when Jack was an infant. I’ve often fancied that there was a delicate bond of union between us here. He had a mother, but no father. I had a father, but no mother. Strange coincidence! I think the fact helped to draw us together. I may be wrong, but I think so. Jack was on a visit to us at the time, so I had only to cross the passage to reach his room.“Come in,” he cried, as I knocked.“Jack, come to my room. It’s more comfortable than yours. I want your advice.”He rose, in some surprise, and followed me.If John Brown’s name was commonplace his person was certainly not so. He looked like a young lord. He was a noble fellow, by nature if not by birth. A clear, sunny face, masculine chin and nose, sweet, firm mouth, the eye of an eagle, and the soft, curly, golden hair of a child. Tall, broad-shouldered, elegant, bold as a lion, gentle and kind as a lamb—such was my best, my dearest friend, Jack.“Jack,” said I, “I’m going to run away!”My friend fell into a chair, put both legs straight out, and looked at me in speechless amazement for a second; then he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.“Jack,” I repeated, “I’m going to run away.”“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said he.“And,” I continued, regardless of his remark, “I mean that you shall run away with me.”“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” he replied. “But come, Bob, my boy, you’re joking. Surely this is not the object for which you called me out of my room.”“Indeed it is. Listen to me, Jack.” (I looked at him impressively. He returned the look, for Jack was earnest as well as gay.) “You know that my dear father positively refused to let me go abroad, although I have entreated him to do so again and again. Now I think that’s hard, you know. I love my dear father very much, but—”“You love yourself better. Is that it?”“Well, put it so if you choose. I don’t care. I’m going to run away, and if you won’t go with me you can stay at home—that’s all.”“Come, come, Bob, don’t be cross,” said Jack, kindly; “you know you don’t mean it.”“But I do; and I’m sure I don’t see what it is that prevents you from going too,” said I, testily.“H’m! well, there is a small matter, a sort of moral idea, so to speak, that prevents.”“And what is that?”“Respect for my mother! Bob, my boy, I’ve been too deeply imbued with that in my babyhood to shake it off now, even if I wished to do so; but I don’t, Bob, I don’t. I’m proud of my mother, and, moreover, I remember her teachings. There’s one little verse I used to repeat to her every Sunday night, along with the rest of the ten commandments, ‘Honour thy father and thy mother,’ etcetera. It seems to me that running away is rather flying in the face of that. Doesn’t it strike you in that light, Bob?”I was silent. I felt that I had no argument against such reasoning. Jack rose.“It’s late, Bob; we are to start on our fishing expedition to-morrow morning at six, so it behoves us to get into bed. Good-night! and think over it!”I seized his hand and pressed it warmly.“Good-night, Jack, I will!”

There is mystery connected with the incidents which I am about to relate. Looked at from one point of view, the whole affair is mysterious—eminently so; yet, regarded from another point of view, it is not so mysterious as it seems. Whatever my reader may think about it as he goes along, I entreat him to suspend his judgment until he has reached the conclusion of my narrative. My only reason for bringing this mysterious matter before the public is, that, in addition to filling me with unutterable surprise, it had the effect of quenching one of my strongest desires, and effectually prevented my becoming a sailor.

This, I freely admit, is not in itself a sufficient reason to justify my rushing into print. But when I regard the matter from what may be termed a negative point of view, I do feel that it is not absolutely presumptuous in me to claim public attention. Suppose that Sir John Franklin had never gone to sea; what a life of adventure and discovery would have been lost to the world! what deeds of heroism undone, and, therefore, untold! I venture to think, that if that great navigator had not gone to sea, it would have been a matter of interest, (knowing what we now know), to have been told that such was the case. In this view of the matter I repeat it, as being of possible future interest, that the incident I am about to relate prevented my becoming a sailor.

I am said to be a soft boy—that is to say, Iwassaid to be soft. I’m a man now, but, of course, I was a boy once. I merely mention this to prove that I make no pretension whatever to unusual wisdom; quite the reverse. I hate sailing under false colours—not that I ever did sail under any colours, never having become a sailor—and yet I shouldn’t say that, either, for that’s the very point round which all the mystery hangs. Ididgo to sea! I’m rather apt to wander, I find, from my point, and to confuse my own mind, (I trust not the reader’s). Perhaps the shortest way to let you understand how it was is to tell you all about it.

My name is Robert Smith—not an unusual name, I am given to understand. It was of little use to me during the period of my boyhood, for I never got any other name than Bob—sometimessoftwas added. I had a father. He loved me. As a natural consequence, I loved him. He was old, partially bald, silver-haired, kind, affectionate, good, five feet six, and wore spectacles. I, at the time I write of; was young, stout, well-grown, active, and had a long nose—much too long a nose: it was the only point in regard to which I was sensitive. It was owing to the length of this member, I believe, that I once went by the name of Mozambique. You see, I conceal nothing. The remarkable—the mysterious—the every way astonishing incidents I am about to relate, require that I should be more than usually careful and particular in stating things precisely as I saw them and understood them at the time.

In this view of the matter I should remark that the softness with which I was charged did not refer to my muscles—they were hard and well developed—but to my intellect. I take this opportunity of stating that I think the charge unjust. But, to conclude my description of myself; I am romantic. One of my dearest companions used to say that my nose was the same, minus the tic! What he meant by that I never could make out. I doubt if he himself knew.

My chief delight in my leisure hours was to retire to my bedroom and immerse myself in books of travel and adventure. This was my mania. No one can conceive the delight I experienced in following heroes of every name over the pathless deep and through the trackless forests of every clime. My heart swelled within me, and the blood rushed through my veins like liquid fire, as I read of chasing lions, tigers, elephants, in Africa; white bears and walrus in the Polar regions; and deer and bisons on the American prairies. I struggled long to suppress the flame that consumed me, but I could not. It grew hotter and hotter. At last, it burst forth—and this brings me to the point.

I thought—one dark, dismal night in the middle of November—I thought, (mind, I don’t say I determined; no, but I thought), of running away from home and going to sea!

I confess it with shame. The image of my dear father rose before me with a kind and sorrowful look. I repented; started to my feet, and seized the book I was reading with the intention of tossing it into the fire. In doing so, I accidentally turned over a leaf. There was an illustration on the page. I looked at it. An African savage firing the whole contents of a six-barrelled revolver down the throat of a Bengal tiger, without, apparently, doing it any harm! I thought not of the incongruous combination. My soul was fired anew. Once again I thought of running away from home and going to sea—not by any means with the intention of remaining at sea, but for the purpose of reaching foreign—if possible—unknown lands.

Having conceived the thought, I rose calmly, shut the book carefully, but with decision, thrust my hands firmly into my pockets, knitted my brows, and went out in search of my bosom friend John Brown—also a commonplace name, I believe—at least, so it is said.

Jack, as I used to call him, had a mother, but no father—his father died when Jack was an infant. I’ve often fancied that there was a delicate bond of union between us here. He had a mother, but no father. I had a father, but no mother. Strange coincidence! I think the fact helped to draw us together. I may be wrong, but I think so. Jack was on a visit to us at the time, so I had only to cross the passage to reach his room.

“Come in,” he cried, as I knocked.

“Jack, come to my room. It’s more comfortable than yours. I want your advice.”

He rose, in some surprise, and followed me.

If John Brown’s name was commonplace his person was certainly not so. He looked like a young lord. He was a noble fellow, by nature if not by birth. A clear, sunny face, masculine chin and nose, sweet, firm mouth, the eye of an eagle, and the soft, curly, golden hair of a child. Tall, broad-shouldered, elegant, bold as a lion, gentle and kind as a lamb—such was my best, my dearest friend, Jack.

“Jack,” said I, “I’m going to run away!”

My friend fell into a chair, put both legs straight out, and looked at me in speechless amazement for a second; then he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

“Jack,” I repeated, “I’m going to run away.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said he.

“And,” I continued, regardless of his remark, “I mean that you shall run away with me.”

“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” he replied. “But come, Bob, my boy, you’re joking. Surely this is not the object for which you called me out of my room.”

“Indeed it is. Listen to me, Jack.” (I looked at him impressively. He returned the look, for Jack was earnest as well as gay.) “You know that my dear father positively refused to let me go abroad, although I have entreated him to do so again and again. Now I think that’s hard, you know. I love my dear father very much, but—”

“You love yourself better. Is that it?”

“Well, put it so if you choose. I don’t care. I’m going to run away, and if you won’t go with me you can stay at home—that’s all.”

“Come, come, Bob, don’t be cross,” said Jack, kindly; “you know you don’t mean it.”

“But I do; and I’m sure I don’t see what it is that prevents you from going too,” said I, testily.

“H’m! well, there is a small matter, a sort of moral idea, so to speak, that prevents.”

“And what is that?”

“Respect for my mother! Bob, my boy, I’ve been too deeply imbued with that in my babyhood to shake it off now, even if I wished to do so; but I don’t, Bob, I don’t. I’m proud of my mother, and, moreover, I remember her teachings. There’s one little verse I used to repeat to her every Sunday night, along with the rest of the ten commandments, ‘Honour thy father and thy mother,’ etcetera. It seems to me that running away is rather flying in the face of that. Doesn’t it strike you in that light, Bob?”

I was silent. I felt that I had no argument against such reasoning. Jack rose.

“It’s late, Bob; we are to start on our fishing expedition to-morrow morning at six, so it behoves us to get into bed. Good-night! and think over it!”

I seized his hand and pressed it warmly.

“Good-night, Jack, I will!”

Story 2—Chapter 2.My bedroom was a small one, with little furniture in it. A small iron stove in the fire-place acted instead of a grate, and as I was accustomed to read late my father allowed me to light it in cold weather. It was blazing cheerfully when Jack left me, and the bright gleams of ruddy light that darted through the chinks of the door and fell on the opposite wall, threw the light of my solitary candle quite into the shade.I have already remarked that the night was dark and dismal. In addition to that, it was stormy. The wind moaned drearily among the venerable elms that surrounded our quiet country residence, and ever and anon came in sharp, fitful gusts that caused the window-frames to rattle, and even shook the house, at times, to its foundation. Heavy drops of rain fell occasionally on the window-panes, and in a few minutes the storm broke forth in full violence.As the old house had stood many such in years gone by, I did not give myself much concern about the gale; but pulled down the blind, placed my little table and books near the stove, and, drawing in my chair, sat down to think. How long I remained in this condition I cannot tell; but my reveries were broken by the large clock on the stairs striking twelve.I started up, and clinching my hands exclaimed aloud, “No! I’ve made up my mind, Iwon’trun away!” Under the impulse of the feeling I threw open the door of the stove and heaped on fresh coals, muttering to myself; as I did so, “No, I won’t run away, I won’t run away; no, no, no, I won’t run a—”I was checked suddenly by my eye falling a second time on that terrific African savage sending from his revolver a charge down the throat of that magnificent Bengal tiger, that would have blown the inside entirely out of any living creature smaller than an elephant. I sat down. I gazed at the picture. I read the account. I followed up the adventurous savage. My head reeled with excitement. A strange terrible heat seemed to dart like lightning through my veins, and the book began to flicker before my eyes. I became alarmed.“Surely some terrible fever is seizing on me!” I exclaimed, and in the terror of the thought I started up and paced my room rapidly. But the fire increased, and my head swam. I meditated ringing the bell and alarming the household; but the thought of this quieted me, and gradually I became calmer.It was at this moment that my former resolution returned upon me with tenfold violence. “I’ll submit to this no longer,” I growled between my teeth; “Iwillrun away!”The instant I said that, I felt as if I were imbued with a determination that nothing could shake. Jack’s reasoning never once came into my mind. I took down the knapsack that hung on a nail ready packed for the intended fishing expedition of the morrow. I buckled it on; put on my thickest shoes, and, seizing a stout cudgel, issued softly from my apartment, and tapped gently at Jack’s door.“Come in!”I entered, and was overwhelmed with surprise at finding my friend standing in the middle of the room accoutred for the road just like myself. He put his finger to his lips.“Hush! Bob. I was on the point of going to your room to say that I’ve made up my mind to run away with you.”I was staggered. I did not relish this unaccountable change. If I had persuaded him to go, it would have been all right; but to find him thus ready and eager was unnatural. I felt as if I were accountable for this change in his opinions and actions, and immediately, strange to say, experienced a tendency to dissuade him.“But, Jack, you forget what you said to me some hours ago.”“No, I don’t,” he answered, gloomily.“Perhaps we’d better think over it again.”“No, we won’t. Come, Bob, don’t show the white feather now. Don’t waste time. It’s about dawn. It’s too late to reason. You have tempted me, and I have given in.”Saying this, he seized me by the collar and pushed me before him.And now the mysterious events which I am about to relate began. The conduct of my friend Jack on this occasion was in itself a mystery. He was by nature the gentlest and most inoffensive of human beings, except when circumstances required him to act vigorously: then he was a lion—irresistible. Since the commencement of our acquaintance, which was of many years’ standing, he had never by word or look given me the slightest cause for anger; and yet here he was grasping me violently by the collar and pushing me forcibly before him.I did not get angry. My conscience smote me. I said to myself; “Ah! this is the result of evil conduct. I have tempted Jack to act against his judgment; he is no longer what he was.”Instead of melting under this feeling, I became hardened. I stepped out, and so dragged my friend after me down the back stairs which led to the lower part of the house, where the servants slept. Jack whispered, “All right,” and let go his hold.“Now we must be cautious,” I said, in a low tone, as we proceeded to traverse the passage, on each side of which were the rooms occupied by the servants. We took off our shoes and advanced on tip-toe. At the far end of the passage we heard a sound like a trombone. That was the butler; we knew of his snoring propensities, and so were not alarmed. His door was open; so was his mouth—I could see that plainly, as I passed, by the dim light of a candle which he always burned at night. The butler was excessively fat. I merely mention this because it accounts for the fact of his not awaking when we unlocked the street door. Fat people are not easily wakened.The lock of the door was an old-fashioned large one. It grated slightly as Jack turned the key; then at a certain point the key lost control over it, and it shot back with a report like a pistol-shot! My heart flew to my mouth, and almost choked me. The butler gave a double snort and turned in his bed as Jack and I darted round an angle of the wall and hid in a dark corner. The butler soon gave unquestionable evidence that he had not been thoroughly aroused, and we were about to issue from our place of concealment, when the door of our man-servant’s room opened, and he peeped out. Edwards—that was his name—was a stout young fellow, and we felt certain that he would not rest satisfied until he had found out the cause of the noise.We were right. He stepped cautiously into the passage with a poker in his hand. My heart sank within me. Just at that moment a cat darted across the passage with its back and tail up, and its eyes glaring. Edwards flung the poker at it, missed the cat, and knocked over an old tin umbrella-stand, with which the poker made a hideous clatter on the stone floor of the passage.“Ha! you brute! Wot? it’s you as is makin’ all that row, is it?”“Oh, dear, Edwards, what’s happened?” cried a shrill voice from the other end of the passage—it was cook.“Oh, nothin’, only the cat,” replied the man as he sauntered into the butler’s room. The butler seemed at that moment to have been smitten with a fit of apoplexy—we could see him from our dark corner;—he grew purple in the face, gasped once or twice, choked awfully, and then sat up in bed staring like a maniac.“Oh! Jack,” I whispered in horror.“Don’t be alarmed; it’s only his usual way of waking up. I’ve seen him do it often.”“What noise is that? What’s going on down there?” cried a deep bass voice in the distance. It was my father. No one replied. Presently my father’s bedroom bell rang with extreme violence. Edwards rushed out of the butler’s room. The butler fell back, opened his mouth, and pretended to be asleep—snoring moderately. This of itself would have undeceived any one, for when the old hypocrite was really asleep he never snoredmoderately. The cook and housemaid uttered two little shrieks and slammed their respective doors, while the bell rang violently a second time.“Now for it,” whispered Jack. He opened the back door softly, and we darted out. A streak of pale light on the horizon indicated the approach of day. We tried to close the door behind us, but we heard the butler choke, gasp, and shout at the top of his voice, “Hi! hallo!” At the same instant the old dinner-gong sent a peal of horrible sound through the house, and we took to flight filled with unutterable terror.Oh, how we did run! We had scarcely cleared the offices and got fairly into the avenue when we heard Edwards shout as he started in pursuit.We were both good runners, but Jack soon took the lead, and kept it by about five yards. Our feet scarcely touched the ground. I felt as if I had wings, so great was my terror. We reached the end of the avenue. The gate was full five feet high. To my inexpressible amazement, Jack went clear over it with one bound!I have never been able to analyse my feelings and impulses on that occasion. I am, and always was, rather a poor jumper; yet, without hesitation, without even a doubt as to my ability to clear it, I went at that gate like an Irish hunter at a stone wall, and leaped fairly over it! The leap did not even check my pace for an instant. I remember, in the whirl and confusion of the moment, that I attributed my almost superhuman powers to terror; but the feeling that we were pursued again absorbed all my faculties.We dashed on at a killing pace, and, strange to say, without feeling the slightest fatigue. Having cleared the avenue, we mounted the high ground in the neighbourhood, passed the church, entered the village, and went through it like a railway train; came out upon the road beyond, and reached a wooded part of the country where several roads and by-paths diverged from the highway. All this time Edwards kept close on our heels. He did not gain on us, but we felt that we did not distance him. “Down here!” cried Jack, doubling suddenly into a lane.We passed a small bridge that crossed a mill-lake. Beyond, there was a farm-yard. The path-way was high, and we could look down on the tops of the stacks. One of these, a haystack, stood about ten feet from the low wall that skirted the road. It had been half pulled down, and the hay was loose. Without a word or warning Jack sprang completely across this space, turned right over, and plunged head first into the hay. I followed instantly, and disappeared. We lay for a few seconds perfectly still, and heard Edwards pass at full speed. Then we struggled out and watched him out of sight.Sliding down, we regained the lane, returned to the high-road, and continued our flight.We saw no more of Edwards.About eight miles from my father’s house there was a small seaport town. We made for this, and reached it just as the sun rose in all his golden glory on the distant edge of the sleeping sea.

My bedroom was a small one, with little furniture in it. A small iron stove in the fire-place acted instead of a grate, and as I was accustomed to read late my father allowed me to light it in cold weather. It was blazing cheerfully when Jack left me, and the bright gleams of ruddy light that darted through the chinks of the door and fell on the opposite wall, threw the light of my solitary candle quite into the shade.

I have already remarked that the night was dark and dismal. In addition to that, it was stormy. The wind moaned drearily among the venerable elms that surrounded our quiet country residence, and ever and anon came in sharp, fitful gusts that caused the window-frames to rattle, and even shook the house, at times, to its foundation. Heavy drops of rain fell occasionally on the window-panes, and in a few minutes the storm broke forth in full violence.

As the old house had stood many such in years gone by, I did not give myself much concern about the gale; but pulled down the blind, placed my little table and books near the stove, and, drawing in my chair, sat down to think. How long I remained in this condition I cannot tell; but my reveries were broken by the large clock on the stairs striking twelve.

I started up, and clinching my hands exclaimed aloud, “No! I’ve made up my mind, Iwon’trun away!” Under the impulse of the feeling I threw open the door of the stove and heaped on fresh coals, muttering to myself; as I did so, “No, I won’t run away, I won’t run away; no, no, no, I won’t run a—”

I was checked suddenly by my eye falling a second time on that terrific African savage sending from his revolver a charge down the throat of that magnificent Bengal tiger, that would have blown the inside entirely out of any living creature smaller than an elephant. I sat down. I gazed at the picture. I read the account. I followed up the adventurous savage. My head reeled with excitement. A strange terrible heat seemed to dart like lightning through my veins, and the book began to flicker before my eyes. I became alarmed.

“Surely some terrible fever is seizing on me!” I exclaimed, and in the terror of the thought I started up and paced my room rapidly. But the fire increased, and my head swam. I meditated ringing the bell and alarming the household; but the thought of this quieted me, and gradually I became calmer.

It was at this moment that my former resolution returned upon me with tenfold violence. “I’ll submit to this no longer,” I growled between my teeth; “Iwillrun away!”

The instant I said that, I felt as if I were imbued with a determination that nothing could shake. Jack’s reasoning never once came into my mind. I took down the knapsack that hung on a nail ready packed for the intended fishing expedition of the morrow. I buckled it on; put on my thickest shoes, and, seizing a stout cudgel, issued softly from my apartment, and tapped gently at Jack’s door.

“Come in!”

I entered, and was overwhelmed with surprise at finding my friend standing in the middle of the room accoutred for the road just like myself. He put his finger to his lips.

“Hush! Bob. I was on the point of going to your room to say that I’ve made up my mind to run away with you.”

I was staggered. I did not relish this unaccountable change. If I had persuaded him to go, it would have been all right; but to find him thus ready and eager was unnatural. I felt as if I were accountable for this change in his opinions and actions, and immediately, strange to say, experienced a tendency to dissuade him.

“But, Jack, you forget what you said to me some hours ago.”

“No, I don’t,” he answered, gloomily.

“Perhaps we’d better think over it again.”

“No, we won’t. Come, Bob, don’t show the white feather now. Don’t waste time. It’s about dawn. It’s too late to reason. You have tempted me, and I have given in.”

Saying this, he seized me by the collar and pushed me before him.

And now the mysterious events which I am about to relate began. The conduct of my friend Jack on this occasion was in itself a mystery. He was by nature the gentlest and most inoffensive of human beings, except when circumstances required him to act vigorously: then he was a lion—irresistible. Since the commencement of our acquaintance, which was of many years’ standing, he had never by word or look given me the slightest cause for anger; and yet here he was grasping me violently by the collar and pushing me forcibly before him.

I did not get angry. My conscience smote me. I said to myself; “Ah! this is the result of evil conduct. I have tempted Jack to act against his judgment; he is no longer what he was.”

Instead of melting under this feeling, I became hardened. I stepped out, and so dragged my friend after me down the back stairs which led to the lower part of the house, where the servants slept. Jack whispered, “All right,” and let go his hold.

“Now we must be cautious,” I said, in a low tone, as we proceeded to traverse the passage, on each side of which were the rooms occupied by the servants. We took off our shoes and advanced on tip-toe. At the far end of the passage we heard a sound like a trombone. That was the butler; we knew of his snoring propensities, and so were not alarmed. His door was open; so was his mouth—I could see that plainly, as I passed, by the dim light of a candle which he always burned at night. The butler was excessively fat. I merely mention this because it accounts for the fact of his not awaking when we unlocked the street door. Fat people are not easily wakened.

The lock of the door was an old-fashioned large one. It grated slightly as Jack turned the key; then at a certain point the key lost control over it, and it shot back with a report like a pistol-shot! My heart flew to my mouth, and almost choked me. The butler gave a double snort and turned in his bed as Jack and I darted round an angle of the wall and hid in a dark corner. The butler soon gave unquestionable evidence that he had not been thoroughly aroused, and we were about to issue from our place of concealment, when the door of our man-servant’s room opened, and he peeped out. Edwards—that was his name—was a stout young fellow, and we felt certain that he would not rest satisfied until he had found out the cause of the noise.

We were right. He stepped cautiously into the passage with a poker in his hand. My heart sank within me. Just at that moment a cat darted across the passage with its back and tail up, and its eyes glaring. Edwards flung the poker at it, missed the cat, and knocked over an old tin umbrella-stand, with which the poker made a hideous clatter on the stone floor of the passage.

“Ha! you brute! Wot? it’s you as is makin’ all that row, is it?”

“Oh, dear, Edwards, what’s happened?” cried a shrill voice from the other end of the passage—it was cook.

“Oh, nothin’, only the cat,” replied the man as he sauntered into the butler’s room. The butler seemed at that moment to have been smitten with a fit of apoplexy—we could see him from our dark corner;—he grew purple in the face, gasped once or twice, choked awfully, and then sat up in bed staring like a maniac.

“Oh! Jack,” I whispered in horror.

“Don’t be alarmed; it’s only his usual way of waking up. I’ve seen him do it often.”

“What noise is that? What’s going on down there?” cried a deep bass voice in the distance. It was my father. No one replied. Presently my father’s bedroom bell rang with extreme violence. Edwards rushed out of the butler’s room. The butler fell back, opened his mouth, and pretended to be asleep—snoring moderately. This of itself would have undeceived any one, for when the old hypocrite was really asleep he never snoredmoderately. The cook and housemaid uttered two little shrieks and slammed their respective doors, while the bell rang violently a second time.

“Now for it,” whispered Jack. He opened the back door softly, and we darted out. A streak of pale light on the horizon indicated the approach of day. We tried to close the door behind us, but we heard the butler choke, gasp, and shout at the top of his voice, “Hi! hallo!” At the same instant the old dinner-gong sent a peal of horrible sound through the house, and we took to flight filled with unutterable terror.

Oh, how we did run! We had scarcely cleared the offices and got fairly into the avenue when we heard Edwards shout as he started in pursuit.

We were both good runners, but Jack soon took the lead, and kept it by about five yards. Our feet scarcely touched the ground. I felt as if I had wings, so great was my terror. We reached the end of the avenue. The gate was full five feet high. To my inexpressible amazement, Jack went clear over it with one bound!

I have never been able to analyse my feelings and impulses on that occasion. I am, and always was, rather a poor jumper; yet, without hesitation, without even a doubt as to my ability to clear it, I went at that gate like an Irish hunter at a stone wall, and leaped fairly over it! The leap did not even check my pace for an instant. I remember, in the whirl and confusion of the moment, that I attributed my almost superhuman powers to terror; but the feeling that we were pursued again absorbed all my faculties.

We dashed on at a killing pace, and, strange to say, without feeling the slightest fatigue. Having cleared the avenue, we mounted the high ground in the neighbourhood, passed the church, entered the village, and went through it like a railway train; came out upon the road beyond, and reached a wooded part of the country where several roads and by-paths diverged from the highway. All this time Edwards kept close on our heels. He did not gain on us, but we felt that we did not distance him. “Down here!” cried Jack, doubling suddenly into a lane.

We passed a small bridge that crossed a mill-lake. Beyond, there was a farm-yard. The path-way was high, and we could look down on the tops of the stacks. One of these, a haystack, stood about ten feet from the low wall that skirted the road. It had been half pulled down, and the hay was loose. Without a word or warning Jack sprang completely across this space, turned right over, and plunged head first into the hay. I followed instantly, and disappeared. We lay for a few seconds perfectly still, and heard Edwards pass at full speed. Then we struggled out and watched him out of sight.

Sliding down, we regained the lane, returned to the high-road, and continued our flight.

We saw no more of Edwards.

About eight miles from my father’s house there was a small seaport town. We made for this, and reached it just as the sun rose in all his golden glory on the distant edge of the sleeping sea.

Story 2—Chapter 3.On entering the village we found it in a state of unusual bustle. I had often been there before, and had thought it rather a quiet place for a seaport. But now there was a sort of bustling activity and an air of mystery about it that I could not understand. I mentioned my feelings to Jack, but he did not answer me, which was a piece of rudeness so unusual that I could only suppose that his mind was so deeply affected with the circumstances in which we had placed ourselves, as to render him somewhat absent.On arriving at the chief, indeed the only, inn of the place, we discovered the reason of all the bustle. A strange ship had arrived the night before—a large ship, fitted out for an expedition to some distant part of the world. She had come to complete her supply of provisions and to engage a few extra hands.Here then was a fortunate opportunity! We asked at once where we could find the captain.He was in the bar-room of the inn. We entered it and found him there, standing with his back to the fire and a coat-tail under each arm. He was a big fat man, with a savage expression of countenance, and ragged head and beard, and a red nose.“Sir,” said Jack, “we wish to ship with you.”The captain stared, took a pencil-case out of his pocket, picked his teeth therewith, and surveyed us from head to foot.“Oh, you do, do you? You wish to ship with me?”“Yes.”“Suppose I don’t want you.”“Then we shall have to try elsewhere.”The captain smiled grimly, shut up the pencil-case, and said—“What can ye do?”“We can read, and write, and count,” said I, taking the words out of Jack’s mouth; for I felt that his brusque manner of replying was not calculated to commend us to the captain.“Oh, you can read, and write, and count, can ye?” repeated the captain, with deep sarcasm. “If ye had said ye could feed, and fight, and shout, it would have bin more to the purpose.”“Perhaps we can do a little of that sort of thing, too,” suggested Jack, with a broad grin.“Hah?” ejaculated the captain. “Wot else can ye do?”“Oh, anything,” said Jack.“I gin’rally find,” observed the captain, “that w’en a boy says he can do anything, he very soon proves that he can do nothing.”“Well, I don’t mean that exactly,” rejoined Jack; “I mean we cantryanything.”“Ha! that’s more to the pint. Where did ye come from?”We looked at each other. “That,” said I, “is a matter of no importance to any one but ourselves. We have run away from home, and we want to go to sea as fast as possible. If you are willing to take us, we are willing to go. What say you?”“Run away! ho! ho!—run away!” said the captain, chuckling; “you are just the lads I want. Nothing like runaway boys for me. I wouldn’t give a pinch of snuff for your good boys that do wot they’re bid. Commend me to the high-spirited fellers that runs away, and that folk are so wicked as to call bad boys. That’s the sort o’ stuff that suitsourservice.”I did not by any means relish the manner and tone in which all this was said: so I asked him what particular service he belonged to.“You’ll know that time enough,” he replied, laughing; “but after all, why shouldn’t I tell ye? there’s nothing to conceal. We’re a discovery-ship; we’re goin’ to look for Sir John Franklin’s expedition, and after we’ve found it we’re going to try the North Pole, and then go right through the Nor’-west passage, down by Behring’s Straits, across the Pacific, touchin’ at the Cannibal Islands in passin’, and so on to China. Havin’ revictualled there, we’ll bear away for Japan, Haustralia, Cape o’ Good Hope, and the West Indies, and come tearin’ across the Atlantic with the Gulf-stream to England! Will that suit ye?”It may seem strange, and the reader will hardly believe me when I say, that, transparently absurd though this statement was, nevertheless I believed every word of it—and so did Jack. I saw that by his glowing eye and heightened colour.“And when do you sail?” I inquired joyfully.“In half an hour; so get aboard, boys, and don’t give so much tongue. I’ve other matters to mind just now. Come, be off!”We retreated precipitately to the door.“What’s her name?” inquired Jack, looking back.“‘The Ring-tailed Smasher,’” cried the captain, fiercely.“The what?”“‘The Ring-tailed Smasher,’” roared the captain, seizing the poker.We vanished. In five minutes we were on board the ship. To this hour I have no remembrance of how we got on board. My brain swam with intense excitement. I felt as if I were flying, not walking, as I ran about the deck and clambered up the rigging.Shortly after the captain came aboard. The rope that attached the vessel to the quay was cast off, the sails flew out as if by magic, and the shore began to fall rapidly astern.It was now, for the first time, that a full sense of what I had done came over me. I leaned over the stern of the ship, and gazed at my native shore as it grew fainter in the distance, until the familiar hills became a mere line of blue on the horizon, and were finally blotted from my view by the blinding tears that sprang suddenly to my eyes. Oh! the agony of that moment I shall never forget. The words that Jack had quoted to me the night before—“Honour thy father and thy mother”—seemed to be stamped in letters of fire within my brain. I felt keenly that, in a moment of passionate self-will, I had done that which would cause me the deepest sorrow all my life.In that dark hour I forgot all my romantic notions of travel in foreign lands; I cared not a straw for hunting, or fighting, or wild adventures. I would have cheerfully given worlds, had I possessed them, to be permitted to undo the past—to hasten to my dear father’s feet, and implore forgiveness of the evil that I had done. But regret was now unavailing. The land soon sank below the horizon, and, ere many hours had passed, our ship was scudding before a stiff breeze and leaping wildly over the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

On entering the village we found it in a state of unusual bustle. I had often been there before, and had thought it rather a quiet place for a seaport. But now there was a sort of bustling activity and an air of mystery about it that I could not understand. I mentioned my feelings to Jack, but he did not answer me, which was a piece of rudeness so unusual that I could only suppose that his mind was so deeply affected with the circumstances in which we had placed ourselves, as to render him somewhat absent.

On arriving at the chief, indeed the only, inn of the place, we discovered the reason of all the bustle. A strange ship had arrived the night before—a large ship, fitted out for an expedition to some distant part of the world. She had come to complete her supply of provisions and to engage a few extra hands.

Here then was a fortunate opportunity! We asked at once where we could find the captain.He was in the bar-room of the inn. We entered it and found him there, standing with his back to the fire and a coat-tail under each arm. He was a big fat man, with a savage expression of countenance, and ragged head and beard, and a red nose.

“Sir,” said Jack, “we wish to ship with you.”

The captain stared, took a pencil-case out of his pocket, picked his teeth therewith, and surveyed us from head to foot.

“Oh, you do, do you? You wish to ship with me?”

“Yes.”

“Suppose I don’t want you.”

“Then we shall have to try elsewhere.”

The captain smiled grimly, shut up the pencil-case, and said—

“What can ye do?”

“We can read, and write, and count,” said I, taking the words out of Jack’s mouth; for I felt that his brusque manner of replying was not calculated to commend us to the captain.

“Oh, you can read, and write, and count, can ye?” repeated the captain, with deep sarcasm. “If ye had said ye could feed, and fight, and shout, it would have bin more to the purpose.”

“Perhaps we can do a little of that sort of thing, too,” suggested Jack, with a broad grin.

“Hah?” ejaculated the captain. “Wot else can ye do?”

“Oh, anything,” said Jack.

“I gin’rally find,” observed the captain, “that w’en a boy says he can do anything, he very soon proves that he can do nothing.”

“Well, I don’t mean that exactly,” rejoined Jack; “I mean we cantryanything.”

“Ha! that’s more to the pint. Where did ye come from?”

We looked at each other. “That,” said I, “is a matter of no importance to any one but ourselves. We have run away from home, and we want to go to sea as fast as possible. If you are willing to take us, we are willing to go. What say you?”

“Run away! ho! ho!—run away!” said the captain, chuckling; “you are just the lads I want. Nothing like runaway boys for me. I wouldn’t give a pinch of snuff for your good boys that do wot they’re bid. Commend me to the high-spirited fellers that runs away, and that folk are so wicked as to call bad boys. That’s the sort o’ stuff that suitsourservice.”

I did not by any means relish the manner and tone in which all this was said: so I asked him what particular service he belonged to.

“You’ll know that time enough,” he replied, laughing; “but after all, why shouldn’t I tell ye? there’s nothing to conceal. We’re a discovery-ship; we’re goin’ to look for Sir John Franklin’s expedition, and after we’ve found it we’re going to try the North Pole, and then go right through the Nor’-west passage, down by Behring’s Straits, across the Pacific, touchin’ at the Cannibal Islands in passin’, and so on to China. Havin’ revictualled there, we’ll bear away for Japan, Haustralia, Cape o’ Good Hope, and the West Indies, and come tearin’ across the Atlantic with the Gulf-stream to England! Will that suit ye?”

It may seem strange, and the reader will hardly believe me when I say, that, transparently absurd though this statement was, nevertheless I believed every word of it—and so did Jack. I saw that by his glowing eye and heightened colour.

“And when do you sail?” I inquired joyfully.

“In half an hour; so get aboard, boys, and don’t give so much tongue. I’ve other matters to mind just now. Come, be off!”

We retreated precipitately to the door.

“What’s her name?” inquired Jack, looking back.

“‘The Ring-tailed Smasher,’” cried the captain, fiercely.

“The what?”

“‘The Ring-tailed Smasher,’” roared the captain, seizing the poker.

We vanished. In five minutes we were on board the ship. To this hour I have no remembrance of how we got on board. My brain swam with intense excitement. I felt as if I were flying, not walking, as I ran about the deck and clambered up the rigging.

Shortly after the captain came aboard. The rope that attached the vessel to the quay was cast off, the sails flew out as if by magic, and the shore began to fall rapidly astern.

It was now, for the first time, that a full sense of what I had done came over me. I leaned over the stern of the ship, and gazed at my native shore as it grew fainter in the distance, until the familiar hills became a mere line of blue on the horizon, and were finally blotted from my view by the blinding tears that sprang suddenly to my eyes. Oh! the agony of that moment I shall never forget. The words that Jack had quoted to me the night before—“Honour thy father and thy mother”—seemed to be stamped in letters of fire within my brain. I felt keenly that, in a moment of passionate self-will, I had done that which would cause me the deepest sorrow all my life.

In that dark hour I forgot all my romantic notions of travel in foreign lands; I cared not a straw for hunting, or fighting, or wild adventures. I would have cheerfully given worlds, had I possessed them, to be permitted to undo the past—to hasten to my dear father’s feet, and implore forgiveness of the evil that I had done. But regret was now unavailing. The land soon sank below the horizon, and, ere many hours had passed, our ship was scudding before a stiff breeze and leaping wildly over the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

Story 2—Chapter 4.“Ho! tumble up there, tumble up! All hands, ahoy! tumble up! Look alive, lads; there’s work to do, my hearties!”Such were the words, uttered in the most terrifically violent bass tones, that awoke me on the first morning after I went to sea. Instantly all the men around me leaped out of their hammocks. They were all half-dressed, and I noticed that the greater part of them completed their toilet in the short interval between quitting their hammocks and gaining the deck. Jack and I had lain down in our clothes, so we were on deck almost as soon as the others.Here the most unexpected sights assailed us. It seemed to me as if a miraculous change had taken place on everybody and everything during the night. The ship when she had set sail was as untidy and lumbered about the decks as a merchantman usually is on quitting port. Now everything was clean, in its place, snugly fastened, and in order. The sails appeared to have undergone some modification. I fancied, too, that the masts raked aft a good deal more than they had done, and round the foot of them were ranged muskets, pistols, cutlasses, and boarding-pikes, where masses of cordage and handspikes had been before. The hencoops had vanished, and in their place were rows of brass carronades, while in the centre of the deck an enormous swivel gun occupied the place on which the long-boat had formerly rested. Even the captain seemed to have changed. His costume was somewhat Eastern in its character, and his whole aspect was much more ferocious than when I first saw him.Vague and terrible suspicions crossed my mind as I viewed these wonderful transformations; but I had no time to indulge them, for the men had hastened with the promptitude of men-of-war’s men to their stations, leaving Jack and me alone in the middle of the deck.“Hallo, boys!” shouted the captain, “no idlers allowed aboard this ship. Here, stand by this gun, and lend a hand with the ropes when you’re told to. Obey orders,—that’s the only duty I’ve got to lay on you.”We hastened to the gun pointed out, and while I was standing there waiting for orders, I looked over the side, and, for the first time, became aware of the cause of these proceedings.About two miles to leeward of us, just off our larboard bow, I saw a large ship running under a press of canvas. She was a huge clumsy-looking merchantman, and I heard our first mate say she was an East-Indiaman.“Then why chase her?” thought I, “and why these warlike preparations?”It struck me at the time, I remember, that the captain must have guessed my thoughts, for he glanced at me quickly, and then turning to the mate, with a sarcastic smile, said—“I thought you had better sight than you seem to have. In my judgment that’s a Russian merchantman, and as we happen to be at war with Russia just now I’ll take the liberty of overhauling her.”Instead of replying to this the mate burst into a loud laugh in which, strangely enough, he was joined by the captain and all the men who were within hearing. I felt uneasy at this, and expressed my feelings in a whisper to Jack, who shook his head and looked at me mysteriously, but said nothing.I felt that, even though we were at war with Russia, we, as a discovery-ship, had no right whatever to interfere in the capacity of a war-ship, and I was about to remonstrate with the captain at all hazards, when my thoughts were suddenly changed by the order being given to fire a shot across the stranger’s bows. The gun at which I was stationed was run out.“Stand by!” cried the captain.“Fire!”In the excitement of the moment, and without knowing what I had to do, though deeply impressed with the feeling that something ought to be done when an order was given, I pulled violently at the rope which I had in my hand; the effect of which was to move the gun very slightly when it exploded. The result was that the ball, instead of passing well ahead of the strange vessel, passed close to its bow and carried away half of the bowsprit.The captain turned on me a face absolutely blazing with wrath. He seized a handspike, and I thought he was about to dash out my brains on the spot. He hissed at me between his clinched teeth; then, suddenly bursting into a shout of fiendish laughter, he cried—“Well, well, after all there’s no harm done. It’ll make them understand that we don’t mean to trifle with ’em. Clear the boarding-pikes there. Are the grappling-irons ready?”“Ay, ay, sir.”By this time the stranger had hove-to, and we were bearing down on her so rapidly that a few minutes more would bring us alongside. Our men stood ready for action. They were the worst-looking set of scoundrels I ever beheld.“Ship ahoy!” shouted our captain as we drew near, “what ship’s that?”A smart young officer leaped on the bulwarks, and cried, “Come alongside and I’ll tell you. Show your colours.”At the word our colours went up, as colours are usually hoisted, rolled up like a ball. I watched with intense interest, for I felt that now at last I should know our true character. The ball of what seemed to be dark-blue bunting reached the masthead and hung for one instant—then its folds fell heavily, and were swept out by the breeze. The flag was black, and in the centre were a white skull and crossbones!I almost fainted at the sight. I looked at Jack, who stood beside me. He was as white as a sheet; but his lips were firmly compressed, and his brows knitted.“Do we deserve what we have got?” he muttered in a deep, sad voice.I did not reply; but my conscience answered, “We do—at least I do.”We were now hove-to about a pistol-shot to leeward of the ship, and our captain, leaping on the bulwark, cried, with a dreadful oath, “Send your gig alongside instantly with your captain and papers. If you don’t look sharp I’ll blow you out of the water.”He had scarcely finished speaking, when a loud shout rent the air, and the bulwarks of the strange vessel swarmed with soldiers. At the same moment, twenty concealed ports flew open and twenty heavy guns were run out.Our captain gave the word, “Fire!” as he leaped on the deck and rushed to the wheel. The word must have been given at the same moment on board the chase, for both broadsides burst simultaneously from the vessels’ sides with a deafening crash that sounded ten times louder and more terrible than the loudest thunder I ever heard. We were so near that the combined volumes of smoke completely blinded and almost suffocated me. I fancied, for a moment, that our powder-magazine had blown up.The thunder of the broadsides was followed by the most appalling shrieks I ever heard, and by the ceaseless rattle of musketry as the soldiers opened on us with deadly precision. Through the smoke I saw men falling around me, and the decks were immediately covered with blood, while bullets and splinters of wood whistled round my head like hail.I was stunned. I felt like one in a horrid dream. Gradually the smoke cleared away, and then I saw that our captain had put down the helm and our vessel was sheering off to leeward under full sail. The rapidity with which everything was done quite took away my breath. Before we were out of gun-shot the decks had been cleared, the dead thrown into the sea, the wounded carried below, and the decks washed with buckets of water.Just then I thought of Jack, and looked round in haste. He was not there! I rushed below! he was not in his hammock. In an agony of anxiety I went down into the horrible den of blood where our surgeon was attending to the wounded. Here, amid groaning and dying men, I found my friend stretched in a cot with a blanket over him, his handsome face was very pale, and his eyes were closed when I approached. Going down on my knees beside him, while my heart fluttered with an inexpressible feeling of dread, I whispered his name.He opened his large eyes slowly, and a sweet sad smile lit up his face for one moment, as he took me by the hand.“O Jack! Jack, my friend—my brother—are you wounded?” I asked.“Yes,” he replied, in a faint voice; “I’m badly hurt, I fear.”“Has the doctor dressed your wound?”“He finished the—the—operation just before you came down.”“Operation!” I whispered, while a feeling of deadly sickness came over me. “Where—what—” I could not go further.Poor Jack knew what I wished to ask. He gently lifted part of the blanket, and I felt as if I had been stunned by an electric shock on observing that his right leg had been amputated above the knee. For some moments I could not speak. I could not move. It was with difficulty that I could draw my labouring breath. Suddenly I clasped my hands—“O Jack! my beloved! my—” I gasped. My throat was parched. For one moment I thought I was dying. Suddenly I started up, uttered a great agonising cry, and fell down on the deck. Then a flood of tears sprang into my burning eyes, and I sobbed as if my heart would burst asunder. I did not try to check this. It was too precious a relief to my insupportable agony. I crept close to my friend’s cot, took his hand gently, and, laying my cheek upon it, wept there as I never wept before. Jack’s former advice now came back to me vividly, and his words of caution, “Honour thy father and thy mother,” burned deep into my throbbing brain, while my accusing conscience whispered unceasingly, “You brought him to this—you brought him to this!” My sorrow was broken in upon rudely by the first mate.“What are you doin’ here, you young blackguard?” he cried, seizing me by the collar, and dragging me to the foot of the ladder that led out of this bloody den. “Skulking, eh!I’llteach you to skulk;I’llcure you o’ that, my lad!I’lltan your skin for you,” and at each emphatic word he gave a blow with a rope’s end that raised a bar of livid flesh across my back. “There,” he cried, giving me a final cut, and hurling me up the first few steps of the ladder, “on deck with you!”I did not hesitate to comply. I gained the deck with unusual rapidity, smarting with pain and burning with indignation. But what I saw going on there made me almost forget my pain. The great swivel gun amidships was being cleared for action, and our captain was giving orders beside it as coolly and quietly as if nothing unusual had occurred that day.I was deeply impressed for a few minutes with this cool, calm indifference, which characterised the men as well as the captain; but when I had considered a little, I came to understand that they were used to battle and bloodshed, and that therefore it was quite natural. After that I ceased to wonder at anything. Indeed, the power to be astonished seemed to leave my breast altogether, and from that moment I regarded everything that happened on the pirate vessel as being quite what might be expected—mere matter of course.I now observed that we had not yet done with the supposed Russian. We had merely run astern out of range of her guns, but not beyond the range of our large swivel. In a few minutes it was ready. The captain sighted the gun, and gave the word “Fire!”The ship quivered with the shock, and so large was the ball that I could distinctly trace its flight. It fell short a few yards. “So, so,” muttered the captain. “The next will do its work.”He was right. The next ball struck the rails that ran round the poop, carried away the binnacle, and raked the upper deck from stern to stem. I could see it quite plainly with the glass.“Hurrah!” shouted some of the crew.“Silence, you babies,” growled the captain; “time enough to crow when our work’s done.”The men who had cheered fell back abashed. I noticed that they were chiefly the younger men of the crew, whose countenances were not yet utterly unhumanised by crime.“Load.”“Ready.”“Fire!”Again the huge iron mass sprang from the cannon’s mouth, and rushed along its deadly track. It struck the top of a wave, and bounding up passed through the sails and cordage of the Russian, cutting one or two of the lighter spars, and also the main topsail halyards, which caused the yard to come rattling down, and rendered the sail useless. Seeing this, the pirate captain ordered sail to be reduced in order to keep at a sufficient distance astern to render the guns of the chase useless. Every shot from our gun now told with terrible effect. We could see the splinters fly as every ball entered the ship’s stern, or swept her deck, or crashed through her rigging. Presently she turned her broadside to us.“She don’t mean to waste her ammunition, surely,” remarked the captain, with a sneer.She did not mean to do so. She evidently meant to turn the tables by bearing suddenly down on us, and, if possible, give us a broadside before we could get out of range. The captain saw the intention instantly, and thwarted it.“Up your helm! Square the yards! Look alive there!”We fell off, and were soon running before the wind, with the swivel gun thundering over our stern, as it had formerly thundered over our bows. The Russian fired a broadside, and lay-to. Every ball fell short of us. We also lay-to, and now the fire was kept up steadily. The ship’s fate was sealed. Those on board evidently thought so, for the colours which had hitherto been flying from the mast were presently lowered. Upon this we ceased firing, and ranged up alongside.“Oh! you’ve had enough, have you?” cried our captain. “Perhaps you’ll condescend to let your captain and papers come aboardnow.”The Russian did not reply, but a boat was lowered. It was evident they meant to obey.“Here, you boy,” cried our captain, as he paced the deck, awaiting their arrival. “Here’s a letter for you.”“A letter, sir!” I exclaimed, stepping forward, and touching my cap.“Ay, your father gave it to me just afore we set sail. He told me not to give it to you until you’d seen a little rough work. You’ve seen some now, I think,” (he accompanied this remark with a horrible leer), “so there’s the letter. Go below and read it. I’ll want you in half an hour for some still rougher work.”There seemed to me something very unaccountable and mysterious in this. I knew that the captain did not know my father. I had not even told him that I had a father. It seemed to me impossible that in the course of the short half-hour that intervened between the time of my engaging to serve in theRing-tailed Smasher, and the time of my setting sail, my father could have found out where I had run to, have met and conversed with the captain, and have written a letter to me. Yet it seemed that such was the case. I recognised the handwriting.“Whom did you get the letter from? Did you see my father?”“Come, youngster, don’t you go for to question me. Go below d’rectly, an’ stop there till ye’r wanted.”The captain seized the end of a rope as he spoke, so I retreated at once to the bedside of my poor friend Jack, only too glad to escape from the presence of the men whom I now abhorred with all my heart.“Jack,” said I, eagerly, “here’s a letter from my father!”He evinced no surprise, but, looking up solemnly, said, in a faint voice, “Read it.”Breaking the seal, I read as follows:—“My Beloved Son,—I forgive you. You have sinned deeply in thus leaving me; but I know that you have repented. I know that your own conscience has rebuked you more sternly than any earthly parent could do. You cannot now recall the past—you cannot undo what you have done; you must now continue your voyage, and, in order to relieve your oppressed heart, I give you my blessing. I commend you, my dear boy, to Him who is the Saviour of sinners.“Beware of the captain. Obey him in all that is right, but do not serve him. Again, I say, beware of him. There are secrets concerning him that I cannot unfold. I have just been to see Jack’s mother. She sends her forgiveness and blessing to her son. God bless you, boy.—Your loving father,“John Smith.”My father understood human nature. No reproaches that he could have heaped upon me would have cut half so deeply into my heart as did this kind, forgiving letter. My heart was full. Yet I felt a deep undercurrent of joy at knowing that my father loved me still. I looked at Jack. He seemed to be asleep, but he was not. A single tear coursed over his pale cheek as he looked up and whispered—“We don’t deserve this, Bob.”Before I could reply, the ship was shaken by a tremendous explosion, and immediately after I heard the most appalling shrieks and yells on deck, accompanied by the clashing of swords and the scuffling of men in deadly conflict. I looked at Jack; he lay motionless, with his eyes closed. For a moment I feared that he was dead.“Bob Smith! Hallo! tumble up there, you skulker!” shouted a voice down the hatchway. At the same moment two wounded men were carried into the place, and the surgeon appeared with his horrible instruments glittering, cold and sharp, on a wooden tray.Seizing my cutlass, and thrusting a brace of pistols in my belt, I rushed on deck.

“Ho! tumble up there, tumble up! All hands, ahoy! tumble up! Look alive, lads; there’s work to do, my hearties!”

Such were the words, uttered in the most terrifically violent bass tones, that awoke me on the first morning after I went to sea. Instantly all the men around me leaped out of their hammocks. They were all half-dressed, and I noticed that the greater part of them completed their toilet in the short interval between quitting their hammocks and gaining the deck. Jack and I had lain down in our clothes, so we were on deck almost as soon as the others.

Here the most unexpected sights assailed us. It seemed to me as if a miraculous change had taken place on everybody and everything during the night. The ship when she had set sail was as untidy and lumbered about the decks as a merchantman usually is on quitting port. Now everything was clean, in its place, snugly fastened, and in order. The sails appeared to have undergone some modification. I fancied, too, that the masts raked aft a good deal more than they had done, and round the foot of them were ranged muskets, pistols, cutlasses, and boarding-pikes, where masses of cordage and handspikes had been before. The hencoops had vanished, and in their place were rows of brass carronades, while in the centre of the deck an enormous swivel gun occupied the place on which the long-boat had formerly rested. Even the captain seemed to have changed. His costume was somewhat Eastern in its character, and his whole aspect was much more ferocious than when I first saw him.

Vague and terrible suspicions crossed my mind as I viewed these wonderful transformations; but I had no time to indulge them, for the men had hastened with the promptitude of men-of-war’s men to their stations, leaving Jack and me alone in the middle of the deck.

“Hallo, boys!” shouted the captain, “no idlers allowed aboard this ship. Here, stand by this gun, and lend a hand with the ropes when you’re told to. Obey orders,—that’s the only duty I’ve got to lay on you.”

We hastened to the gun pointed out, and while I was standing there waiting for orders, I looked over the side, and, for the first time, became aware of the cause of these proceedings.

About two miles to leeward of us, just off our larboard bow, I saw a large ship running under a press of canvas. She was a huge clumsy-looking merchantman, and I heard our first mate say she was an East-Indiaman.

“Then why chase her?” thought I, “and why these warlike preparations?”

It struck me at the time, I remember, that the captain must have guessed my thoughts, for he glanced at me quickly, and then turning to the mate, with a sarcastic smile, said—

“I thought you had better sight than you seem to have. In my judgment that’s a Russian merchantman, and as we happen to be at war with Russia just now I’ll take the liberty of overhauling her.”

Instead of replying to this the mate burst into a loud laugh in which, strangely enough, he was joined by the captain and all the men who were within hearing. I felt uneasy at this, and expressed my feelings in a whisper to Jack, who shook his head and looked at me mysteriously, but said nothing.

I felt that, even though we were at war with Russia, we, as a discovery-ship, had no right whatever to interfere in the capacity of a war-ship, and I was about to remonstrate with the captain at all hazards, when my thoughts were suddenly changed by the order being given to fire a shot across the stranger’s bows. The gun at which I was stationed was run out.

“Stand by!” cried the captain.

“Fire!”

In the excitement of the moment, and without knowing what I had to do, though deeply impressed with the feeling that something ought to be done when an order was given, I pulled violently at the rope which I had in my hand; the effect of which was to move the gun very slightly when it exploded. The result was that the ball, instead of passing well ahead of the strange vessel, passed close to its bow and carried away half of the bowsprit.

The captain turned on me a face absolutely blazing with wrath. He seized a handspike, and I thought he was about to dash out my brains on the spot. He hissed at me between his clinched teeth; then, suddenly bursting into a shout of fiendish laughter, he cried—

“Well, well, after all there’s no harm done. It’ll make them understand that we don’t mean to trifle with ’em. Clear the boarding-pikes there. Are the grappling-irons ready?”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

By this time the stranger had hove-to, and we were bearing down on her so rapidly that a few minutes more would bring us alongside. Our men stood ready for action. They were the worst-looking set of scoundrels I ever beheld.

“Ship ahoy!” shouted our captain as we drew near, “what ship’s that?”

A smart young officer leaped on the bulwarks, and cried, “Come alongside and I’ll tell you. Show your colours.”

At the word our colours went up, as colours are usually hoisted, rolled up like a ball. I watched with intense interest, for I felt that now at last I should know our true character. The ball of what seemed to be dark-blue bunting reached the masthead and hung for one instant—then its folds fell heavily, and were swept out by the breeze. The flag was black, and in the centre were a white skull and crossbones!

I almost fainted at the sight. I looked at Jack, who stood beside me. He was as white as a sheet; but his lips were firmly compressed, and his brows knitted.

“Do we deserve what we have got?” he muttered in a deep, sad voice.

I did not reply; but my conscience answered, “We do—at least I do.”

We were now hove-to about a pistol-shot to leeward of the ship, and our captain, leaping on the bulwark, cried, with a dreadful oath, “Send your gig alongside instantly with your captain and papers. If you don’t look sharp I’ll blow you out of the water.”

He had scarcely finished speaking, when a loud shout rent the air, and the bulwarks of the strange vessel swarmed with soldiers. At the same moment, twenty concealed ports flew open and twenty heavy guns were run out.

Our captain gave the word, “Fire!” as he leaped on the deck and rushed to the wheel. The word must have been given at the same moment on board the chase, for both broadsides burst simultaneously from the vessels’ sides with a deafening crash that sounded ten times louder and more terrible than the loudest thunder I ever heard. We were so near that the combined volumes of smoke completely blinded and almost suffocated me. I fancied, for a moment, that our powder-magazine had blown up.

The thunder of the broadsides was followed by the most appalling shrieks I ever heard, and by the ceaseless rattle of musketry as the soldiers opened on us with deadly precision. Through the smoke I saw men falling around me, and the decks were immediately covered with blood, while bullets and splinters of wood whistled round my head like hail.

I was stunned. I felt like one in a horrid dream. Gradually the smoke cleared away, and then I saw that our captain had put down the helm and our vessel was sheering off to leeward under full sail. The rapidity with which everything was done quite took away my breath. Before we were out of gun-shot the decks had been cleared, the dead thrown into the sea, the wounded carried below, and the decks washed with buckets of water.

Just then I thought of Jack, and looked round in haste. He was not there! I rushed below! he was not in his hammock. In an agony of anxiety I went down into the horrible den of blood where our surgeon was attending to the wounded. Here, amid groaning and dying men, I found my friend stretched in a cot with a blanket over him, his handsome face was very pale, and his eyes were closed when I approached. Going down on my knees beside him, while my heart fluttered with an inexpressible feeling of dread, I whispered his name.

He opened his large eyes slowly, and a sweet sad smile lit up his face for one moment, as he took me by the hand.

“O Jack! Jack, my friend—my brother—are you wounded?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied, in a faint voice; “I’m badly hurt, I fear.”

“Has the doctor dressed your wound?”

“He finished the—the—operation just before you came down.”

“Operation!” I whispered, while a feeling of deadly sickness came over me. “Where—what—” I could not go further.

Poor Jack knew what I wished to ask. He gently lifted part of the blanket, and I felt as if I had been stunned by an electric shock on observing that his right leg had been amputated above the knee. For some moments I could not speak. I could not move. It was with difficulty that I could draw my labouring breath. Suddenly I clasped my hands—

“O Jack! my beloved! my—” I gasped. My throat was parched. For one moment I thought I was dying. Suddenly I started up, uttered a great agonising cry, and fell down on the deck. Then a flood of tears sprang into my burning eyes, and I sobbed as if my heart would burst asunder. I did not try to check this. It was too precious a relief to my insupportable agony. I crept close to my friend’s cot, took his hand gently, and, laying my cheek upon it, wept there as I never wept before. Jack’s former advice now came back to me vividly, and his words of caution, “Honour thy father and thy mother,” burned deep into my throbbing brain, while my accusing conscience whispered unceasingly, “You brought him to this—you brought him to this!” My sorrow was broken in upon rudely by the first mate.

“What are you doin’ here, you young blackguard?” he cried, seizing me by the collar, and dragging me to the foot of the ladder that led out of this bloody den. “Skulking, eh!I’llteach you to skulk;I’llcure you o’ that, my lad!I’lltan your skin for you,” and at each emphatic word he gave a blow with a rope’s end that raised a bar of livid flesh across my back. “There,” he cried, giving me a final cut, and hurling me up the first few steps of the ladder, “on deck with you!”

I did not hesitate to comply. I gained the deck with unusual rapidity, smarting with pain and burning with indignation. But what I saw going on there made me almost forget my pain. The great swivel gun amidships was being cleared for action, and our captain was giving orders beside it as coolly and quietly as if nothing unusual had occurred that day.

I was deeply impressed for a few minutes with this cool, calm indifference, which characterised the men as well as the captain; but when I had considered a little, I came to understand that they were used to battle and bloodshed, and that therefore it was quite natural. After that I ceased to wonder at anything. Indeed, the power to be astonished seemed to leave my breast altogether, and from that moment I regarded everything that happened on the pirate vessel as being quite what might be expected—mere matter of course.

I now observed that we had not yet done with the supposed Russian. We had merely run astern out of range of her guns, but not beyond the range of our large swivel. In a few minutes it was ready. The captain sighted the gun, and gave the word “Fire!”

The ship quivered with the shock, and so large was the ball that I could distinctly trace its flight. It fell short a few yards. “So, so,” muttered the captain. “The next will do its work.”

He was right. The next ball struck the rails that ran round the poop, carried away the binnacle, and raked the upper deck from stern to stem. I could see it quite plainly with the glass.

“Hurrah!” shouted some of the crew.

“Silence, you babies,” growled the captain; “time enough to crow when our work’s done.”

The men who had cheered fell back abashed. I noticed that they were chiefly the younger men of the crew, whose countenances were not yet utterly unhumanised by crime.

“Load.”

“Ready.”

“Fire!”

Again the huge iron mass sprang from the cannon’s mouth, and rushed along its deadly track. It struck the top of a wave, and bounding up passed through the sails and cordage of the Russian, cutting one or two of the lighter spars, and also the main topsail halyards, which caused the yard to come rattling down, and rendered the sail useless. Seeing this, the pirate captain ordered sail to be reduced in order to keep at a sufficient distance astern to render the guns of the chase useless. Every shot from our gun now told with terrible effect. We could see the splinters fly as every ball entered the ship’s stern, or swept her deck, or crashed through her rigging. Presently she turned her broadside to us.

“She don’t mean to waste her ammunition, surely,” remarked the captain, with a sneer.

She did not mean to do so. She evidently meant to turn the tables by bearing suddenly down on us, and, if possible, give us a broadside before we could get out of range. The captain saw the intention instantly, and thwarted it.

“Up your helm! Square the yards! Look alive there!”

We fell off, and were soon running before the wind, with the swivel gun thundering over our stern, as it had formerly thundered over our bows. The Russian fired a broadside, and lay-to. Every ball fell short of us. We also lay-to, and now the fire was kept up steadily. The ship’s fate was sealed. Those on board evidently thought so, for the colours which had hitherto been flying from the mast were presently lowered. Upon this we ceased firing, and ranged up alongside.

“Oh! you’ve had enough, have you?” cried our captain. “Perhaps you’ll condescend to let your captain and papers come aboardnow.”

The Russian did not reply, but a boat was lowered. It was evident they meant to obey.

“Here, you boy,” cried our captain, as he paced the deck, awaiting their arrival. “Here’s a letter for you.”

“A letter, sir!” I exclaimed, stepping forward, and touching my cap.

“Ay, your father gave it to me just afore we set sail. He told me not to give it to you until you’d seen a little rough work. You’ve seen some now, I think,” (he accompanied this remark with a horrible leer), “so there’s the letter. Go below and read it. I’ll want you in half an hour for some still rougher work.”

There seemed to me something very unaccountable and mysterious in this. I knew that the captain did not know my father. I had not even told him that I had a father. It seemed to me impossible that in the course of the short half-hour that intervened between the time of my engaging to serve in theRing-tailed Smasher, and the time of my setting sail, my father could have found out where I had run to, have met and conversed with the captain, and have written a letter to me. Yet it seemed that such was the case. I recognised the handwriting.

“Whom did you get the letter from? Did you see my father?”

“Come, youngster, don’t you go for to question me. Go below d’rectly, an’ stop there till ye’r wanted.”

The captain seized the end of a rope as he spoke, so I retreated at once to the bedside of my poor friend Jack, only too glad to escape from the presence of the men whom I now abhorred with all my heart.

“Jack,” said I, eagerly, “here’s a letter from my father!”

He evinced no surprise, but, looking up solemnly, said, in a faint voice, “Read it.”

Breaking the seal, I read as follows:—

“My Beloved Son,—I forgive you. You have sinned deeply in thus leaving me; but I know that you have repented. I know that your own conscience has rebuked you more sternly than any earthly parent could do. You cannot now recall the past—you cannot undo what you have done; you must now continue your voyage, and, in order to relieve your oppressed heart, I give you my blessing. I commend you, my dear boy, to Him who is the Saviour of sinners.

“Beware of the captain. Obey him in all that is right, but do not serve him. Again, I say, beware of him. There are secrets concerning him that I cannot unfold. I have just been to see Jack’s mother. She sends her forgiveness and blessing to her son. God bless you, boy.—Your loving father,

“John Smith.”

My father understood human nature. No reproaches that he could have heaped upon me would have cut half so deeply into my heart as did this kind, forgiving letter. My heart was full. Yet I felt a deep undercurrent of joy at knowing that my father loved me still. I looked at Jack. He seemed to be asleep, but he was not. A single tear coursed over his pale cheek as he looked up and whispered—

“We don’t deserve this, Bob.”

Before I could reply, the ship was shaken by a tremendous explosion, and immediately after I heard the most appalling shrieks and yells on deck, accompanied by the clashing of swords and the scuffling of men in deadly conflict. I looked at Jack; he lay motionless, with his eyes closed. For a moment I feared that he was dead.

“Bob Smith! Hallo! tumble up there, you skulker!” shouted a voice down the hatchway. At the same moment two wounded men were carried into the place, and the surgeon appeared with his horrible instruments glittering, cold and sharp, on a wooden tray.

Seizing my cutlass, and thrusting a brace of pistols in my belt, I rushed on deck.

Story 2—Chapter 5.On reaching the deck I saw at once how matters stood. The Russian had allowed us to come alongside, and then, throwing out grappling-irons, had fired a broadside into us, and attempted to board. They were soon overcome, however, by the pirates, and driven back into their ship, whither they were immediately followed.I resolved, come what might, that I would take no part in the fray; but I was carried, in spite of myself, on board the strange vessel in the rush that our men made when they drove their opponents back. There was a short, sharp skirmish on the deck of the Russian, and then the crew were driven below, and the hatches put on. I remembered having seen a number of soldiers on board when we first came up with this vessel. There were none now. Their mysterious disappearance struck me at first, but I soon forgot it in the thrilling scenes that followed.In the middle of the vessel’s main-deck there was a cage of wild beasts. How they had got there of course I knew not, but I at once concluded the ship must have been in southern climes, and these animals were being brought home to be presented to some menagerie or zoological garden. There were several fine specimens of lions and tigers, and the sight of blood which flowed plentifully on the decks had so excited these creatures that they were now filling the air with deafening roars, bounding against the sides of their cage, (which I expected every moment to see broken to pieces by their united strength), and glaring at us with the most awful expressions of ferocity I ever beheld.Our captain, who looked almost as fierce as the wild brutes, could not make his voice heard for their roaring. In savage fury he rushed at the cage and made a desperate cut with his sword at the lion nearest the bars. The blood flowed from the wound freely, and the savage animal, being unable to wreak its vengeance on its cowardly assailant, attacked one of its comrades. This, and the blood now flowing in the cage, quite maddened them all. An indiscriminate fight ensued. The wooden partition that separated the tigers from the lions was smashed in, and the strong cage shook as if it were made of card-board.“Turn a gun in-board,” yelled the captain, who seemed to have actually gone mad with passion.The order was instantly obeyed.“Load to the muzzle—grape—canister—chain shot. In with it.”He assisted in the operation; rammed home the extraordinary charge, pointed the gun at the cage, and applied the match. Instantly the gun leaped backwards as if it had been a living thing, broke down the bulwarks of the ship, and plunged overboard.The effect of the shot was terrific. The cage was blown to atoms, and the mangled remains of the wild beasts were strewn about the deck. One animal, however, a magnificent Bengal tiger, had apparently escaped unhurt. It sprang at the captain with a hideous roar. He pointed a pistol at its open throat!At that moment the woodcut in my book of travels flashed vividly before me. But I had not time to think. The pistol exploded, sending its contents down the creature’s throat. The tiger fell short in its leap; blood poured from its mouth and nose. With another bound it cleared the bulwarks, and fell into the sea.The calm that succeeded this thrilling incident was like a sudden lull in the midst of a furious storm. Even the pirates seemed to be solemnised by what had passed.“Now to work,” cried the captain, wiping his sword, and laying it, with a brace of loaded pistols, on the capstan. “What are you staring at, you fools?—have you lost your senses? Open the after-hatch, and bring them up, one at a time. Get the plank ready.”The first who was led bound before the captain was the steward of the ship. He was deadly pale, and trembled very much.“Now, my man,” said the captain, “answer my questions. Thetruthmind, else—” he touched the butt of a pistol significantly.“Where did you last sail from?”To my amazement, the man gave the name of the port from which we ourselves had sailed. I felt certain that this was a falsehood, and that the poor man’s life would be forfeited. Judge, then, my surprise when the captain said—“I know that as well as you. I saw you sneak out just the day before we did. But you didn’t escape me, ha! ha! You are too good to live, my man. Stand aside here till I call someone who’s not quite so frightened. Here, hold him, one of you! Bring another!”I started. My heart almost ceased to beat when the next man was led forward. He was my father’s man-servant, Edwards. In the confusion and horror of that hour I could not reason; but a vague sense of some mysterious impossibility having actually taken place oppressed me in a way that I cannot explain. The ship had sailed the day before ours did! I left Edwards behind me in the race from home! How, then, did I see him before me? Then the cage of wild beasts. How was it possible that a vessel leaving an English port could have such creatures on board? Then, my father’s letter; it seemed more than ever mysterious how that letter could reach me, and through such a channel, and without a word of reference to Edwards.He did not observe me as he passed. I tried to utter his name; but my tongue was tied. I could not speak. I could not move.“Where did you last sail from?” began the captain.“You’ll get nothing out of me,” replied Edwards, stoutly. “Do your most. Torture me if you like. I defy you to your teeth.”“Do you, my fine fellow?” said the captain, with a bitter sneer. “Then I’ll just send you overboard at once. I’ve no time to torture you; and as I shall find plenty of your comrades willing enough to tell me all they know, I’ll not trouble you any further. Ho! run out the plank there!”I knew what that meant, and a cold shiver passed through my frame as the men obeyed, and blind-folded Edwards, preparatory to making him walk the plank. I could restrain myself no longer. Darting up to the captain, I shouted in a voice of indignation—“Do you mean to murder an innocent man, you dastardly villain?”He looked at me for a moment in surprise; then, snatching a pistol, felled me with it to the deck. I was not rendered quite insensible. I heard the shriek of agony uttered by poor Edwards, as he fell off the end of the plank into the sea; then I fainted.How long I lay, I know not; probably not long, for I was restored to a state of consciousness by being plunged into the sea. I had no doubt that the captain had ordered me to be thrown overboard, just after I fell under his brutal blow.Being a good swimmer, I struck out at once and made for the side of the pirate vessel, where I caught the end of a rope, and soon clambered on board. I was much exhausted, and sat down on the breech of a carronade to rest and recover my stunned and scattered faculties.The crew of the pirate were so busily engaged with the captured ship that I found myself quite alone on the deck. Not a man remained in the ship. An idea suddenly occurred to me just then. I glanced up at the sails. They were all flapping in the wind except the fore-topsail. That sail had slewed round, and was drawing so that the vessel strained the ropes and grappling-irons that held her to the captured ship.I sprang up burning with eager excitement. I heard the shrieks of the ill-fated victims, as one by one they walked the plank, which, fortunately for the success of my design, was thrust out on the other side of the ship. A crowbar enabled me to wrench off the grappling-irons. Two cuts of a large axe severed the cable that had been fastened to the bow, and the vessel’s head fell slowly off. As it did so, all the sails filled with a sudden clap. This was observed: I heard a shout, and saw the pirates spring on the bulwarks of the prize. I flew rather than ran to the stern, where the cable that held the vessel was rigid as a bar of iron. One blow cut it, and the rope recoiled violently in the faces of the men who laid hold of it. Next moment the pirate ship was heading away before a stiff breeze which was quickly freshening to a gale. As I sprang to the helm, a shower of musket and pistol bullets tore up the deck round me, and I heard the captain’s voice give the order to load the guns.It was a few minutes before thevis inertiaeof the ship was overcome, so that I was within close range when a whole broadside was fired at me. But not a shot struck. They tore up the water all round, and ricochetted over me. Before they could reload I was almost beyond range, for the gale was freshening every moment, and the canvas spread was enough almost to tear the masts out of the ship. The water hissed as she flew over the heaving waves, and in a few minutes I felt that I wasfree.Oh the feeling of wild delight that filled me when I realised this! I lashed the helm amidships, and ran down below to tell Jack what I had done. He was asleep. By a powerful effort I restrained myself, and did not disturb him. Then I rushed on deck. My brain seemed on fire. I shouted, laughed, and sang, and wept, until I began to feel a terrible sensation of dread lest I should go mad. But this, instead of calming me, caused me to dance and sing and shout the more. A burning thirst came upon me. I ran to the water-cask and drank till I could drink no more. I was refreshed; but soon the fever returned fiercer than ever. I was mad! I knew it; I felt it; but I did not care. I saw that the storm increased; this caused me to shout again with joy at the thought that I was so quickly borne away from the scene of butchery, and from the fiends in human form with whom I had so lately associated.The gale burst in all its fury upon us. The sails were new and strong; the ship plunged into the waves, a green billow swept in-board and burst in fury on the deck, carrying away boats and loose spars. I yelled with delight, and plunged into the brine that lashed the deck from stem to stern. I heard a noise overhead; but was so confused that I could not understand what it was. As I gazed, there came a terrific blast. The mainsail split from top to bottom. The topsails burst and were blown to ribbons. At the same moment, I received a violent blow on the head.After that, all was darkness and oblivion.

On reaching the deck I saw at once how matters stood. The Russian had allowed us to come alongside, and then, throwing out grappling-irons, had fired a broadside into us, and attempted to board. They were soon overcome, however, by the pirates, and driven back into their ship, whither they were immediately followed.

I resolved, come what might, that I would take no part in the fray; but I was carried, in spite of myself, on board the strange vessel in the rush that our men made when they drove their opponents back. There was a short, sharp skirmish on the deck of the Russian, and then the crew were driven below, and the hatches put on. I remembered having seen a number of soldiers on board when we first came up with this vessel. There were none now. Their mysterious disappearance struck me at first, but I soon forgot it in the thrilling scenes that followed.

In the middle of the vessel’s main-deck there was a cage of wild beasts. How they had got there of course I knew not, but I at once concluded the ship must have been in southern climes, and these animals were being brought home to be presented to some menagerie or zoological garden. There were several fine specimens of lions and tigers, and the sight of blood which flowed plentifully on the decks had so excited these creatures that they were now filling the air with deafening roars, bounding against the sides of their cage, (which I expected every moment to see broken to pieces by their united strength), and glaring at us with the most awful expressions of ferocity I ever beheld.

Our captain, who looked almost as fierce as the wild brutes, could not make his voice heard for their roaring. In savage fury he rushed at the cage and made a desperate cut with his sword at the lion nearest the bars. The blood flowed from the wound freely, and the savage animal, being unable to wreak its vengeance on its cowardly assailant, attacked one of its comrades. This, and the blood now flowing in the cage, quite maddened them all. An indiscriminate fight ensued. The wooden partition that separated the tigers from the lions was smashed in, and the strong cage shook as if it were made of card-board.

“Turn a gun in-board,” yelled the captain, who seemed to have actually gone mad with passion.

The order was instantly obeyed.

“Load to the muzzle—grape—canister—chain shot. In with it.”

He assisted in the operation; rammed home the extraordinary charge, pointed the gun at the cage, and applied the match. Instantly the gun leaped backwards as if it had been a living thing, broke down the bulwarks of the ship, and plunged overboard.

The effect of the shot was terrific. The cage was blown to atoms, and the mangled remains of the wild beasts were strewn about the deck. One animal, however, a magnificent Bengal tiger, had apparently escaped unhurt. It sprang at the captain with a hideous roar. He pointed a pistol at its open throat!

At that moment the woodcut in my book of travels flashed vividly before me. But I had not time to think. The pistol exploded, sending its contents down the creature’s throat. The tiger fell short in its leap; blood poured from its mouth and nose. With another bound it cleared the bulwarks, and fell into the sea.

The calm that succeeded this thrilling incident was like a sudden lull in the midst of a furious storm. Even the pirates seemed to be solemnised by what had passed.

“Now to work,” cried the captain, wiping his sword, and laying it, with a brace of loaded pistols, on the capstan. “What are you staring at, you fools?—have you lost your senses? Open the after-hatch, and bring them up, one at a time. Get the plank ready.”

The first who was led bound before the captain was the steward of the ship. He was deadly pale, and trembled very much.

“Now, my man,” said the captain, “answer my questions. Thetruthmind, else—” he touched the butt of a pistol significantly.

“Where did you last sail from?”

To my amazement, the man gave the name of the port from which we ourselves had sailed. I felt certain that this was a falsehood, and that the poor man’s life would be forfeited. Judge, then, my surprise when the captain said—

“I know that as well as you. I saw you sneak out just the day before we did. But you didn’t escape me, ha! ha! You are too good to live, my man. Stand aside here till I call someone who’s not quite so frightened. Here, hold him, one of you! Bring another!”

I started. My heart almost ceased to beat when the next man was led forward. He was my father’s man-servant, Edwards. In the confusion and horror of that hour I could not reason; but a vague sense of some mysterious impossibility having actually taken place oppressed me in a way that I cannot explain. The ship had sailed the day before ours did! I left Edwards behind me in the race from home! How, then, did I see him before me? Then the cage of wild beasts. How was it possible that a vessel leaving an English port could have such creatures on board? Then, my father’s letter; it seemed more than ever mysterious how that letter could reach me, and through such a channel, and without a word of reference to Edwards.

He did not observe me as he passed. I tried to utter his name; but my tongue was tied. I could not speak. I could not move.

“Where did you last sail from?” began the captain.

“You’ll get nothing out of me,” replied Edwards, stoutly. “Do your most. Torture me if you like. I defy you to your teeth.”

“Do you, my fine fellow?” said the captain, with a bitter sneer. “Then I’ll just send you overboard at once. I’ve no time to torture you; and as I shall find plenty of your comrades willing enough to tell me all they know, I’ll not trouble you any further. Ho! run out the plank there!”

I knew what that meant, and a cold shiver passed through my frame as the men obeyed, and blind-folded Edwards, preparatory to making him walk the plank. I could restrain myself no longer. Darting up to the captain, I shouted in a voice of indignation—

“Do you mean to murder an innocent man, you dastardly villain?”

He looked at me for a moment in surprise; then, snatching a pistol, felled me with it to the deck. I was not rendered quite insensible. I heard the shriek of agony uttered by poor Edwards, as he fell off the end of the plank into the sea; then I fainted.

How long I lay, I know not; probably not long, for I was restored to a state of consciousness by being plunged into the sea. I had no doubt that the captain had ordered me to be thrown overboard, just after I fell under his brutal blow.

Being a good swimmer, I struck out at once and made for the side of the pirate vessel, where I caught the end of a rope, and soon clambered on board. I was much exhausted, and sat down on the breech of a carronade to rest and recover my stunned and scattered faculties.

The crew of the pirate were so busily engaged with the captured ship that I found myself quite alone on the deck. Not a man remained in the ship. An idea suddenly occurred to me just then. I glanced up at the sails. They were all flapping in the wind except the fore-topsail. That sail had slewed round, and was drawing so that the vessel strained the ropes and grappling-irons that held her to the captured ship.

I sprang up burning with eager excitement. I heard the shrieks of the ill-fated victims, as one by one they walked the plank, which, fortunately for the success of my design, was thrust out on the other side of the ship. A crowbar enabled me to wrench off the grappling-irons. Two cuts of a large axe severed the cable that had been fastened to the bow, and the vessel’s head fell slowly off. As it did so, all the sails filled with a sudden clap. This was observed: I heard a shout, and saw the pirates spring on the bulwarks of the prize. I flew rather than ran to the stern, where the cable that held the vessel was rigid as a bar of iron. One blow cut it, and the rope recoiled violently in the faces of the men who laid hold of it. Next moment the pirate ship was heading away before a stiff breeze which was quickly freshening to a gale. As I sprang to the helm, a shower of musket and pistol bullets tore up the deck round me, and I heard the captain’s voice give the order to load the guns.

It was a few minutes before thevis inertiaeof the ship was overcome, so that I was within close range when a whole broadside was fired at me. But not a shot struck. They tore up the water all round, and ricochetted over me. Before they could reload I was almost beyond range, for the gale was freshening every moment, and the canvas spread was enough almost to tear the masts out of the ship. The water hissed as she flew over the heaving waves, and in a few minutes I felt that I wasfree.

Oh the feeling of wild delight that filled me when I realised this! I lashed the helm amidships, and ran down below to tell Jack what I had done. He was asleep. By a powerful effort I restrained myself, and did not disturb him. Then I rushed on deck. My brain seemed on fire. I shouted, laughed, and sang, and wept, until I began to feel a terrible sensation of dread lest I should go mad. But this, instead of calming me, caused me to dance and sing and shout the more. A burning thirst came upon me. I ran to the water-cask and drank till I could drink no more. I was refreshed; but soon the fever returned fiercer than ever. I was mad! I knew it; I felt it; but I did not care. I saw that the storm increased; this caused me to shout again with joy at the thought that I was so quickly borne away from the scene of butchery, and from the fiends in human form with whom I had so lately associated.

The gale burst in all its fury upon us. The sails were new and strong; the ship plunged into the waves, a green billow swept in-board and burst in fury on the deck, carrying away boats and loose spars. I yelled with delight, and plunged into the brine that lashed the deck from stem to stern. I heard a noise overhead; but was so confused that I could not understand what it was. As I gazed, there came a terrific blast. The mainsail split from top to bottom. The topsails burst and were blown to ribbons. At the same moment, I received a violent blow on the head.

After that, all was darkness and oblivion.


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