Chapter Four.

Chapter Four.The day arrived for Owen to go on board the “Druid.” She was bound for the East Indian seas. How far off that was Kezia had no exact notion, but she knew it must be a long way, and many months, at all events, must pass by before Owen could come back. She embraced him with an affection which made him think of his old nurse, Jane Hayes. “May God, who rules both sea and land, protect you from the many dangers you have to encounter. I don’t hide them from myself, and I don’t want you to shut your eyes to them, but trust in Him, and be prepared for whatever may happen. I’ll pray for you, Owen, and He will hear the prayers even of such an obstinate, self-opiniated old woman as I am.”She had insisted that Joseph should go on board with Owen, in order to bring her back a last account of the boy. She would have gone herself, but she had to take care of the house.Owen and Joseph drove off. They were to call at the office at Wapping before they took boat to proceed down the river.Owen hurried in. Mr Fluke received him in his private room, and, putting a purse into his hand, said, “Take care of that. Spend its contents as you may find necessary, but do not be swindled out of it. I am not given to words, Owen, but understand that I am pleased with you, and proud of acknowledging you as a relative; and when you come back, strong and well, as I hope, I shall be glad to see you and stand your friend.”The old man got up and placed his hand on Owen’s shoulder, and then turned away to conceal some very unusual feelings which agitated him.Mr Tarwig, who had been his chief task-master, shook him warmly by the hand, and said more kind words than he had ever before been known to utter. The rest of the clerks imitated his example; and Owen, with a heart grateful for all the kindness he had received, rejoined Joseph in the coach. They were soon at that well-known locality “Wapping old stairs,” from whence they embarked and pulled down the river to where the “Druid” was lying.Joseph was able to report that Owen had a small berth to himself opening from the main cabin; that Captain Aggett had received him with great kindness, and expressed his pleasure that he had been allowed to come.The river pilot was soon on board, the sails were loosened, the anchor hove up, and the “Druid,” with a fair wind, glided down the stream.“Although you may not take to the sea, you’ll like to learn as much seamanship and navigation as you can while you are on board,” observed Captain Aggett.“Indeed I should, sir,” answered Owen; “but I want to make myself useful to you also, if you can show me how.”“Certainly you can,” said the captain; “you shall act as my clerk, and you will be of great assistance to me.”Fine weather continued, and the “Druid” had a quick passage down channel. Owen, from the first set to work to learn the names of all the sails and ropes, indeed of everything onboard.There were several other boys—apprentices—of whom two were called midshipmen, although they had to do the same duty as the rest. Captain Aggett had entered Owen as an apprentice, but he was looked upon as the captain’s guest, and only mixed with the others when on duty. He was busy from morning until night, always learning something, when not engaged in writing for the captain in the cabin. He quickly mastered all the simpler details of seamanship, while the captain in the meantime, according to his promise, gave him instruction in navigation; so that he was shortly able not only to take meridional observations correctly (or to shoot the sun, as midshipmen call it), and to work a day’s work as well as anyone, but to use the chronometer and to take a lunar.Owen was not a prodigy; any lad of intelligence; who possesses a sufficient knowledge of mathematics, may do the same. He learned to steer, beginning first in fine weather, and he soon could go aloft and and and reef with any of the lads in the ship, some of whom had already made two or three voyages. The rapid proficiency he acquired, and the favour bestowed upon him by the captain, created some jealousy in the breasts of several of his younger shipmates. Strange to say, the first mate, Jonas Scoones, imbibed an ill-feeling for Owen, without any other reason, as far as could be known, except that he was the captain’s favourite.Mr Scoones was a first-rate seaman, but a poor navigator, for he was almost destitute of education; indeed he was as rough-looking in appearance and manners as any of the men before the mast. How Captain Aggett had consented to his becoming first mate it was difficult to say; perhaps he thought that his excellence as a seaman would make up for his imperfect knowledge of navigation. He was also a good disciplinarian, and, by mixing freely with the men, while still maintaining his own position, he was well able to manage them. The second mate, Ralph Grey, was a great contrast to Jonas Scoones. He was a young man of good manners and disposition, well-educated, and was an especially expert navigator, so that he was well able to assist the captain.Scoones overawed him, however, by his blustering, dictatorial manners, so that Grey never ventured to dispute a point with the first mate, however obviously wrong the latter might be.Ralph Grey liked Owen, and was always ready to assist him with any information he required, and was never tired of explaining the why and the wherefore of everything. The third mate was a young man, a fair seaman, but without anything particular about him worthy of notice.The captain was certainly not aware of his first mate’s propensity to drink hard when the opportunity occurred. Scoones generally avoided doing so when there was any duty to be performed, but he spent most of his time on shore in a state of intoxication, which had certainly contributed to weaken his mental faculties.The “Druid” was a large ship of nearly nine hundred tons, and was chartered by the British Government to carry out stores to the squadron then engaged in operations against the Dutch East Indian islands, which had been taken possession of by the French. She carried sixteen guns and a numerous crew, in order that she might protect herself, not only against any French cruisers, but might be able to beat off the piratical Malay proas which swarmed in those seas. Her duty, however, was not to fight, but simply to defend herself if attacked. That she might be able to do so, Captain Aggett, as soon as the ship was fairly at sea, exercised the men daily at the guns, by which means he gave them plenty of employment, the best plan for keeping a ship’s company in good order.Owen took a pleasure in learning the gun exercise, as he did in acquiring a knowledge of all the other duties of a sailor. Every day he rapidly gained health and strength, while the colour returned to his cheeks, which were getting well-browned by the hot sun and sea air.“Your friends at Wapping would not know you again,” observed Captain Aggett, after they had been at sea a few weeks. “When we get back they will declare I have exchanged you for some one else. I don’t know how you will like returning to your high desk in Mr Fluke’s dingy office.”“If it is my duty to go back, I shall be ready to do so, sir,” answered Owen; “but I confess that I should prefer a life at sea, as far as my experience goes.”“You are right, Owen; as to doing what duty demands, stick to that principle, and you will never go wrong!” observed the captain. “But you must remember we do not always enjoy the fine weather we have hitherto had. You must take the rough with the smooth; we may chance to meet with a typhoon in the eastern seas, or heavy gales off the Cape, and things won’t be as pleasant as they are now.”“I am aware of that, sir,” said Owen. “When I came to sea I was fully prepared to meet with bad as well as fair weather. I should be most sorry not to meet with a gale of wind during the voyage.”“You are not likely to be disappointed in that respect, although I have been out and home without having had to lift tack or sheet for weeks together,” observed the captain.“I was going to ask you, sir, if I might be placed in a watch, should you think me sufficiently competent to do the duty.”“O yes, I will trust you for that; and as you wish it, you shall be in the first mate’s watch.”“And so, youngster, you want to turn sailor?” said Mr Scoones, the first night on which Owen was in his watch.“As I am at sea I wish to learn all I can,” answered Owen.“You’ll have a chance of picking up a smattering before we get home again; but I never knew any ‘cabin young gentlemen’ turn out sailors,” answered the mate, with a sneer. “A man is not worth anything unless he comes in at the ‘hawse holes,’ to my mind.”“I will do my best while I am on board, and get all the knowledge I can,” said Owen.“Well, you’ll have to obey me pretty smartly, or look out for squalls,” growled the mate, turning away.Owen did not like these remarks, but of course he made no reply. He soon found that the first mate acted up to his threats. Among the boys was a young lad, Nat Midge by name, who was constantly the victim of the mate’s tyranny. Nat had come to sea for the first time, and, although intelligent and fairly educated, did not always understand what he was to do. He also was in the first mate’s watch. When he did not appear to comprehend the orders he received Owen explained them, taking every opportunity of instructing him. Nat was grateful, and conceived a warm friendship for his instructor.Owen told him how he himself had learned so rapidly, and advised him to follow the same plan.“Among so many men you will find several good natured enough to explain matters to you, and never fail to ask the why and the wherefore of anything you see done,” he said. “Do not be disheartened should you receive a rebuff. If you ask me, and I don’t know, I’ll try and get information from some one.”Nat followed this advice, and improved rapidly. The first mate had now no legitimate excuse for ill-treating him, but it seemed, notwithstanding that his ill-feeling towards the lad had increased, so that even on the most trivial pretexts he would give him a taste of the rope’s end. Midge, although he keenly felt the ill-treatment he received, did not resent it. Of course the example set by the mate was followed by the badly disposed among the crew, who unmercifully bullied poor Nat.Owen, observing this, was highly indignant.“You should complain to the captain. I am sure that he would not allow it,” observed Owen.“If I do I shall only be worse off than ever, for the mate will bring proof that I deserve all I get,” answered Nat.“But I can bear evidence in your favour,” said Owen.“The mate will prove that you know nothing about the matter, that you do not see how I behave, and I shall be treated ten times as badly as before,” said poor Nat. “Tom Dicker, who has made two voyages, says that he had to go through as much as I have, and advised me to grin and bear it. Sometimes it is more than I feel I can do, and I am like to jump overboard.”“Don’t allow so dreadful a thought to enter your mind,” exclaimed Owen.“O no, no! I don’t really think of doing it,” answered Nat. “I should miss the object for which I came to sea. I have a number of brothers and sisters, and no father or mother. I want to become a sailor, and make money and help to support them, for there is only our old grandmother left, and it is a hard matter for her to feed and clothe them.”Owen, on hearing this, became more resolved than ever to protect Nat. He thought over various plans, and at last decided that the next time he saw the boy punished unjustly he would speak privately but boldly to the mate, and try to talk him out of such conduct, but that if he did not succeed, he would tell the captain and clearly explain how matters stood. Nat might be somewhat saved by being removed into the second mate’s watch, although he would still of course be subjected to ill-treatment in the day-time when all hands were on deck. He had not long to wait. A paint pot had been upset. The mate came forward, and Nat was, by some of his enemies, pointed out as the culprit, whereupon Mr Scoones, calling him up, gave him a severe rope’s ending. Nat knew that it was owing to the carelessness of one of the men, but dared not accuse him. Owen at that moment came forward, but he of course could not interfere. When the mate returned aft he went up to him and explained that Nat was innocent, and went on to say that he had very often seen him punished without any just cause.“It is sufficient, sir, to make the boy grow weary of life, and what a heavy responsibility would rest on those who drove him to commit an act of desperation.”“What’s all that you are talking about, boy?” exclaimed Mr Scoones, in an angry tone. “Mind your own business; you’ll soon be fancying yourself captain of this ship, I suppose.”“I know my position,” answered Owen, “but I cannot stand by and see any one so cruelly ill-treated as Nat Midge is. I do not wish to appear as his champion in public, but I felt it my duty to speak to you.”“You’ll find it your duty to hold your tongue, youngster,” answered the mate, with an oath. “Look out, or I’ll treat you as I treat the other boys; I would advise you in future to attend to your own business.”Owen feared that he had done no good by speaking to Mr Scoones. He determined therefore to mention the matter to the captain, although well aware that he should thus bring upon himself the vengeance of the mate.He carried out his intention the first time that he found himself alone with the captain in the cabin.“Such things will occur on board ship,” answered Captain Aggett, “but I did not suppose that the first mate would have been guilty of such tyranny as you describe; I always fancied that he was a favourite with the men.”“He may be with some of them, sir,” observed Owen, “but he certainly is not with others, and I could not bear longer to see a helpless boy ill-treated, as young Midge has been for many weeks past.”“I’ll see to the matter,” said Captain Aggett. “Take care not to let the mate discover that you have spoken to me; it will place you in a disagreeable position with him, and, if he is capable of acting as you have described, he may do you some injury.”“I’ll run the risk of that rather than let the boy be bullied,” said Owen.Several days passed by, and, as far as Owen could judge, Nat was better treated than formerly; he hoped, therefore, that his remarks to the mate had produced some effect. The mate’s manner, however, was distant and surly, showing that he had no good feeling towards him. When crossing the line the usual ceremonies were gone through, the captain not considering it necessary to forbid them. Neptune, with his wife and Tritons, came on board, accompanied by the barber and doctor—the characters who invariably take part in the drama. The arrangements had been made under the superintendence of the first mate, who had selected the seamen he chiefly favoured.A sail triced up was filled with water to serve as a bath. The barber carried a piece of rusty hoop instead of a razor, and a pot of grease for lather, while the doctor, with a huge pill box and a knife, which he called his lancet, stood by to prescribe the treatment each patient was to receive. When Neptune and Amphitrite had taken their places, those who had not crossed the line were summoned to appear before them, and were interrogated as to their birth-place and parentage, how long they had been at sea, and the voyages they had made. Those who could not give proof that they were freemen of the ocean were instantly seized, and after being shaved in order to get the hay seeds from their hair, were doused in the bath to wash the dust off their feet. No one had a chance of escape, for, if he attempted to fly and hide himself, he was chased and brought back by the Tritons. Owen and Nat Midge were among the chief sufferers. The barber covered their faces and heads with lather, and when they attempted to cry out dabbed the brush into their mouths; then he applied the iron hoop, and scraped away, pretending to shave off their hair, while the doctor felt their pulses, declaring that they must be bled and blistered, and take a dozen of his pills. Fortunately, before he could administer his remedies the Tritons carried them off to plunge them in the bath. After undergoing this disagreeable process for some time till they were almost drowned, they with difficulty scrambled out, and made their way below. The first mate stood by grinning as he saw the youngsters undergoing this ordeal. Owen made no resistance, nor did he cry out; but as soon as possible he got away to his berth, to cleanse himself from the filth with which he had been covered. Some of the other lads and young men resisted lustily, and suffered in consequence far more even than had either Owen or Nat. The crew having amused themselves for some time, the captain ordered the mate to pipe to quarters. The bath was emptied, Neptune and his gang speedily doffed their theatrical costume and appeared in their proper dresses, each man hurrying to his station at the guns ready to meet an enemy should one have been in sight.“You behaved wisely, Owen,” observed Captain Aggett the next day. “I saw that you were prettyseverely treated, but it would not have done for me to have interfered; depend upon it, the men will respect you the more for not having complained.”Owen found that the captain was right. A day or two afterwards one of the men, as usual, was ill-treating Nat. Owen, who was on deck, went forward.“If you had a younger brother, or a nephew, how would you like to see him rope’s ended and treated as you do that orphan boy, who has no friends to protect him?” he exclaimed.“Are you an officer of this ship?” asked the man. “If not, what right have you to command me?”“I do not command you,” said Owen, “I am merely asking you a simple question.”“The young gentleman’s right,” observed several of the men. “Let him alone, Dan; the little chap has had hard lines since he came aboard here, from you and others, and we won’t stand by and see him ill-used any longer.”Dan dropped the rope he held in his hand, and turned away, while Owen, hoping that he had gained friends for poor Nat, walked aft.“He’ll make a smart officer one of these days,” observed one of the men.“Ah, that he will, Ned,” said another. “He is as handy already as many who have been at sea ten times as long.”The ship had now got well to the southward, and the influence of the trade-winds began to be felt. With yards squared she stood for the Cape.Owen had just come on deck, when, looking forward, he saw a figure falling into the water. Instantly there was a cry of “man overboard.” He ran on to the poop. The first mate, who was the officer of the watch, instantly gave the necessary orders to clew up the courses, put the helm down, to brace the yards to starboard, and bring the ship on a wind. At the same time preparations were made to lower a boat.Owen, who saw that the person, whoever he was, unless a good swimmer, would be drowned before a boat could be lowered, seized a grating, and hove it overboard, then throwing off his jacket, plunged after it. He, though little accustomed to salt water had been from his earliest days in the habit of swimming in a large pond not far from Fenside, and his pride had been to swim round it several times without resting. He now brought his experience into practice; pushing the grating before him, he made towards the drowning person, who, from the wild way in which he threw his arms about in attempting to keep afloat, was evidently no swimmer. The sea was tolerably smooth, so that Owen made good way, and in a short time he saw that the person was no other than his friend Nat Midge.“Cheer up, Nat,” he shouted. “Do not exhaust yourself; keep your hands quiet and tread water.”Nat heard him, and did his best to obey his injunctions. The ship appeared to be getting further and further from them, but the grating would be sufficient to support both if Owen once got it up to Nat. It was very clear, however, that Nat could not swim to it.Owen struck out with all his might. He would have got on faster without the grating, but, in case Nat should get frightened, it might be dangerous to approach him. “It must be done, though,” thought Owen; “he will sink if I do not get up to him quickly.” Leaving the grating, therefore, he struck out rapidly for the boy, and had just time to seize him before, exhausted by his fruitless exertions, he was disappearing beneath the surface. Owen held him up. Happily the drowning lad retained his senses.“Put your hand on my shoulders,” said Owen, “and I will tow you up to the grating; just float, and do not attempt to help yourself.”Nat did as he was bid, and at length Owen had the satisfaction of reaching the grating, which Nat at once grasped.“Hold on tight, and do not struggle so as to exhaust yourself. The boat will soon come to pick us up. If you can keep your head above water that is all that is necessary,” said Owen.But Nat had scarcely sufficient strength even to hold on. Owen, therefore, taking one of his hands assisted him to retain his hold beside him. The grating enabled them to keep their heads well out of the water, and Owen found that he could raise himself high enough up to look about him. Where was the ship? She appeared far away to leeward, but, as she had hove to, he felt sure that a boat was being lowered. Still it seemed a long time to wait; the wind was increasing and the sea was getting up. It would be a hard matter to hold on to the grating, over which the sea frequently washed.“They won’t leave us, Mr Hartley?” said Nat; “it would be hard for you to have to die with me.”“No fear of that,” answered Owen. “Do not give way; and see, there’s the boat coming.”He was right. The boat which had been lowered on the lee side at that moment appeared from under the stern of the vessel, and pulled rapidly towards them.Owen undid his handkerchief and waved it above his head. He had thrown off his cap before he had jumped overboard.The boat, which was commanded by the second mate, was soon up to them.“You did that well and bravely, Hartley,” said Mr Grey, as Owen was seated by his side supporting poor Nat, who was in a very exhausted state. “I did not know even that you could swim, and you are the only one who thought of jumping overboard to the poor lad.”Loud cheers greeted them as they came alongside, and Owen received the compliments of the captain and the officers; even Mr Scoones condescended to acknowledge that he had done a brave thing.Nat, under the care of the doctor, soon recovered.“You have saved my life, Mr Hartley, and you have stood my friend ever since I came on board this ship,” exclaimed Nat, the tears bursting from his eyes. “I wish I could show what I feel, but I cannot, and I never can thank you as much as I ought to do, that I know!”“I don’t see that I did anything out of the way,” said Owen. “I saw somebody drowning, and I just acted as I judged best to save him; any tolerable swimmer could have done the same.”“That may be, sir,” answered Nat, “but no one thought of doing it, and if you had not I should have been drowned, so I have good reason to thank you.”Captain Aggett had been for some time unwell, although he had come on deck as usual. He now grew worse, and for days together was confined to his cabin. Owen endeavoured to repay the kindness he had received by being unremitting in his attentions. He sat by his bedside smoothing the pillow which supported his fevered head. He read to him whenever he was able to listen, and was always at hand to give him a cooling mixture with which to moisten his parched lips. Although he talked of going ashore at the Cape, he had so much recovered by the time the ship reached Table Bay that he resolved to continue the voyage.The ship therefore only remained sufficient time to take in water and fresh provisions, and to have some slight repairs made which could not be done at sea, when she again sailed.Owen had been very regular in taking observations, which Mr Grey always found to be correct, although they differed frequently from those of the first mate.“The truth is that he is wrong, and you are right,” observed Mr Grey. “If the captain falls ill again I do not know which of us two is to navigate the ship. If we go by his calculations, the chances are that we shall run her bows on some rock or other.”“I sincerely hope that the captain will not fall ill,” said Owen. “If he does, I am afraid that Mr Scoones will not acknowledge that he himself is ever out in his calculations.”Unhappily the captain’s fever returned, and he became utterly unable to leave his berth. The doctor shook his head when speaking about him, and expressed a fear that his illness would prove fatal.

The day arrived for Owen to go on board the “Druid.” She was bound for the East Indian seas. How far off that was Kezia had no exact notion, but she knew it must be a long way, and many months, at all events, must pass by before Owen could come back. She embraced him with an affection which made him think of his old nurse, Jane Hayes. “May God, who rules both sea and land, protect you from the many dangers you have to encounter. I don’t hide them from myself, and I don’t want you to shut your eyes to them, but trust in Him, and be prepared for whatever may happen. I’ll pray for you, Owen, and He will hear the prayers even of such an obstinate, self-opiniated old woman as I am.”

She had insisted that Joseph should go on board with Owen, in order to bring her back a last account of the boy. She would have gone herself, but she had to take care of the house.

Owen and Joseph drove off. They were to call at the office at Wapping before they took boat to proceed down the river.

Owen hurried in. Mr Fluke received him in his private room, and, putting a purse into his hand, said, “Take care of that. Spend its contents as you may find necessary, but do not be swindled out of it. I am not given to words, Owen, but understand that I am pleased with you, and proud of acknowledging you as a relative; and when you come back, strong and well, as I hope, I shall be glad to see you and stand your friend.”

The old man got up and placed his hand on Owen’s shoulder, and then turned away to conceal some very unusual feelings which agitated him.

Mr Tarwig, who had been his chief task-master, shook him warmly by the hand, and said more kind words than he had ever before been known to utter. The rest of the clerks imitated his example; and Owen, with a heart grateful for all the kindness he had received, rejoined Joseph in the coach. They were soon at that well-known locality “Wapping old stairs,” from whence they embarked and pulled down the river to where the “Druid” was lying.

Joseph was able to report that Owen had a small berth to himself opening from the main cabin; that Captain Aggett had received him with great kindness, and expressed his pleasure that he had been allowed to come.

The river pilot was soon on board, the sails were loosened, the anchor hove up, and the “Druid,” with a fair wind, glided down the stream.

“Although you may not take to the sea, you’ll like to learn as much seamanship and navigation as you can while you are on board,” observed Captain Aggett.

“Indeed I should, sir,” answered Owen; “but I want to make myself useful to you also, if you can show me how.”

“Certainly you can,” said the captain; “you shall act as my clerk, and you will be of great assistance to me.”

Fine weather continued, and the “Druid” had a quick passage down channel. Owen, from the first set to work to learn the names of all the sails and ropes, indeed of everything onboard.

There were several other boys—apprentices—of whom two were called midshipmen, although they had to do the same duty as the rest. Captain Aggett had entered Owen as an apprentice, but he was looked upon as the captain’s guest, and only mixed with the others when on duty. He was busy from morning until night, always learning something, when not engaged in writing for the captain in the cabin. He quickly mastered all the simpler details of seamanship, while the captain in the meantime, according to his promise, gave him instruction in navigation; so that he was shortly able not only to take meridional observations correctly (or to shoot the sun, as midshipmen call it), and to work a day’s work as well as anyone, but to use the chronometer and to take a lunar.

Owen was not a prodigy; any lad of intelligence; who possesses a sufficient knowledge of mathematics, may do the same. He learned to steer, beginning first in fine weather, and he soon could go aloft and and and reef with any of the lads in the ship, some of whom had already made two or three voyages. The rapid proficiency he acquired, and the favour bestowed upon him by the captain, created some jealousy in the breasts of several of his younger shipmates. Strange to say, the first mate, Jonas Scoones, imbibed an ill-feeling for Owen, without any other reason, as far as could be known, except that he was the captain’s favourite.

Mr Scoones was a first-rate seaman, but a poor navigator, for he was almost destitute of education; indeed he was as rough-looking in appearance and manners as any of the men before the mast. How Captain Aggett had consented to his becoming first mate it was difficult to say; perhaps he thought that his excellence as a seaman would make up for his imperfect knowledge of navigation. He was also a good disciplinarian, and, by mixing freely with the men, while still maintaining his own position, he was well able to manage them. The second mate, Ralph Grey, was a great contrast to Jonas Scoones. He was a young man of good manners and disposition, well-educated, and was an especially expert navigator, so that he was well able to assist the captain.

Scoones overawed him, however, by his blustering, dictatorial manners, so that Grey never ventured to dispute a point with the first mate, however obviously wrong the latter might be.

Ralph Grey liked Owen, and was always ready to assist him with any information he required, and was never tired of explaining the why and the wherefore of everything. The third mate was a young man, a fair seaman, but without anything particular about him worthy of notice.

The captain was certainly not aware of his first mate’s propensity to drink hard when the opportunity occurred. Scoones generally avoided doing so when there was any duty to be performed, but he spent most of his time on shore in a state of intoxication, which had certainly contributed to weaken his mental faculties.

The “Druid” was a large ship of nearly nine hundred tons, and was chartered by the British Government to carry out stores to the squadron then engaged in operations against the Dutch East Indian islands, which had been taken possession of by the French. She carried sixteen guns and a numerous crew, in order that she might protect herself, not only against any French cruisers, but might be able to beat off the piratical Malay proas which swarmed in those seas. Her duty, however, was not to fight, but simply to defend herself if attacked. That she might be able to do so, Captain Aggett, as soon as the ship was fairly at sea, exercised the men daily at the guns, by which means he gave them plenty of employment, the best plan for keeping a ship’s company in good order.

Owen took a pleasure in learning the gun exercise, as he did in acquiring a knowledge of all the other duties of a sailor. Every day he rapidly gained health and strength, while the colour returned to his cheeks, which were getting well-browned by the hot sun and sea air.

“Your friends at Wapping would not know you again,” observed Captain Aggett, after they had been at sea a few weeks. “When we get back they will declare I have exchanged you for some one else. I don’t know how you will like returning to your high desk in Mr Fluke’s dingy office.”

“If it is my duty to go back, I shall be ready to do so, sir,” answered Owen; “but I confess that I should prefer a life at sea, as far as my experience goes.”

“You are right, Owen; as to doing what duty demands, stick to that principle, and you will never go wrong!” observed the captain. “But you must remember we do not always enjoy the fine weather we have hitherto had. You must take the rough with the smooth; we may chance to meet with a typhoon in the eastern seas, or heavy gales off the Cape, and things won’t be as pleasant as they are now.”

“I am aware of that, sir,” said Owen. “When I came to sea I was fully prepared to meet with bad as well as fair weather. I should be most sorry not to meet with a gale of wind during the voyage.”

“You are not likely to be disappointed in that respect, although I have been out and home without having had to lift tack or sheet for weeks together,” observed the captain.

“I was going to ask you, sir, if I might be placed in a watch, should you think me sufficiently competent to do the duty.”

“O yes, I will trust you for that; and as you wish it, you shall be in the first mate’s watch.”

“And so, youngster, you want to turn sailor?” said Mr Scoones, the first night on which Owen was in his watch.

“As I am at sea I wish to learn all I can,” answered Owen.

“You’ll have a chance of picking up a smattering before we get home again; but I never knew any ‘cabin young gentlemen’ turn out sailors,” answered the mate, with a sneer. “A man is not worth anything unless he comes in at the ‘hawse holes,’ to my mind.”

“I will do my best while I am on board, and get all the knowledge I can,” said Owen.

“Well, you’ll have to obey me pretty smartly, or look out for squalls,” growled the mate, turning away.

Owen did not like these remarks, but of course he made no reply. He soon found that the first mate acted up to his threats. Among the boys was a young lad, Nat Midge by name, who was constantly the victim of the mate’s tyranny. Nat had come to sea for the first time, and, although intelligent and fairly educated, did not always understand what he was to do. He also was in the first mate’s watch. When he did not appear to comprehend the orders he received Owen explained them, taking every opportunity of instructing him. Nat was grateful, and conceived a warm friendship for his instructor.

Owen told him how he himself had learned so rapidly, and advised him to follow the same plan.

“Among so many men you will find several good natured enough to explain matters to you, and never fail to ask the why and the wherefore of anything you see done,” he said. “Do not be disheartened should you receive a rebuff. If you ask me, and I don’t know, I’ll try and get information from some one.”

Nat followed this advice, and improved rapidly. The first mate had now no legitimate excuse for ill-treating him, but it seemed, notwithstanding that his ill-feeling towards the lad had increased, so that even on the most trivial pretexts he would give him a taste of the rope’s end. Midge, although he keenly felt the ill-treatment he received, did not resent it. Of course the example set by the mate was followed by the badly disposed among the crew, who unmercifully bullied poor Nat.

Owen, observing this, was highly indignant.

“You should complain to the captain. I am sure that he would not allow it,” observed Owen.

“If I do I shall only be worse off than ever, for the mate will bring proof that I deserve all I get,” answered Nat.

“But I can bear evidence in your favour,” said Owen.

“The mate will prove that you know nothing about the matter, that you do not see how I behave, and I shall be treated ten times as badly as before,” said poor Nat. “Tom Dicker, who has made two voyages, says that he had to go through as much as I have, and advised me to grin and bear it. Sometimes it is more than I feel I can do, and I am like to jump overboard.”

“Don’t allow so dreadful a thought to enter your mind,” exclaimed Owen.

“O no, no! I don’t really think of doing it,” answered Nat. “I should miss the object for which I came to sea. I have a number of brothers and sisters, and no father or mother. I want to become a sailor, and make money and help to support them, for there is only our old grandmother left, and it is a hard matter for her to feed and clothe them.”

Owen, on hearing this, became more resolved than ever to protect Nat. He thought over various plans, and at last decided that the next time he saw the boy punished unjustly he would speak privately but boldly to the mate, and try to talk him out of such conduct, but that if he did not succeed, he would tell the captain and clearly explain how matters stood. Nat might be somewhat saved by being removed into the second mate’s watch, although he would still of course be subjected to ill-treatment in the day-time when all hands were on deck. He had not long to wait. A paint pot had been upset. The mate came forward, and Nat was, by some of his enemies, pointed out as the culprit, whereupon Mr Scoones, calling him up, gave him a severe rope’s ending. Nat knew that it was owing to the carelessness of one of the men, but dared not accuse him. Owen at that moment came forward, but he of course could not interfere. When the mate returned aft he went up to him and explained that Nat was innocent, and went on to say that he had very often seen him punished without any just cause.

“It is sufficient, sir, to make the boy grow weary of life, and what a heavy responsibility would rest on those who drove him to commit an act of desperation.”

“What’s all that you are talking about, boy?” exclaimed Mr Scoones, in an angry tone. “Mind your own business; you’ll soon be fancying yourself captain of this ship, I suppose.”

“I know my position,” answered Owen, “but I cannot stand by and see any one so cruelly ill-treated as Nat Midge is. I do not wish to appear as his champion in public, but I felt it my duty to speak to you.”

“You’ll find it your duty to hold your tongue, youngster,” answered the mate, with an oath. “Look out, or I’ll treat you as I treat the other boys; I would advise you in future to attend to your own business.”

Owen feared that he had done no good by speaking to Mr Scoones. He determined therefore to mention the matter to the captain, although well aware that he should thus bring upon himself the vengeance of the mate.

He carried out his intention the first time that he found himself alone with the captain in the cabin.

“Such things will occur on board ship,” answered Captain Aggett, “but I did not suppose that the first mate would have been guilty of such tyranny as you describe; I always fancied that he was a favourite with the men.”

“He may be with some of them, sir,” observed Owen, “but he certainly is not with others, and I could not bear longer to see a helpless boy ill-treated, as young Midge has been for many weeks past.”

“I’ll see to the matter,” said Captain Aggett. “Take care not to let the mate discover that you have spoken to me; it will place you in a disagreeable position with him, and, if he is capable of acting as you have described, he may do you some injury.”

“I’ll run the risk of that rather than let the boy be bullied,” said Owen.

Several days passed by, and, as far as Owen could judge, Nat was better treated than formerly; he hoped, therefore, that his remarks to the mate had produced some effect. The mate’s manner, however, was distant and surly, showing that he had no good feeling towards him. When crossing the line the usual ceremonies were gone through, the captain not considering it necessary to forbid them. Neptune, with his wife and Tritons, came on board, accompanied by the barber and doctor—the characters who invariably take part in the drama. The arrangements had been made under the superintendence of the first mate, who had selected the seamen he chiefly favoured.

A sail triced up was filled with water to serve as a bath. The barber carried a piece of rusty hoop instead of a razor, and a pot of grease for lather, while the doctor, with a huge pill box and a knife, which he called his lancet, stood by to prescribe the treatment each patient was to receive. When Neptune and Amphitrite had taken their places, those who had not crossed the line were summoned to appear before them, and were interrogated as to their birth-place and parentage, how long they had been at sea, and the voyages they had made. Those who could not give proof that they were freemen of the ocean were instantly seized, and after being shaved in order to get the hay seeds from their hair, were doused in the bath to wash the dust off their feet. No one had a chance of escape, for, if he attempted to fly and hide himself, he was chased and brought back by the Tritons. Owen and Nat Midge were among the chief sufferers. The barber covered their faces and heads with lather, and when they attempted to cry out dabbed the brush into their mouths; then he applied the iron hoop, and scraped away, pretending to shave off their hair, while the doctor felt their pulses, declaring that they must be bled and blistered, and take a dozen of his pills. Fortunately, before he could administer his remedies the Tritons carried them off to plunge them in the bath. After undergoing this disagreeable process for some time till they were almost drowned, they with difficulty scrambled out, and made their way below. The first mate stood by grinning as he saw the youngsters undergoing this ordeal. Owen made no resistance, nor did he cry out; but as soon as possible he got away to his berth, to cleanse himself from the filth with which he had been covered. Some of the other lads and young men resisted lustily, and suffered in consequence far more even than had either Owen or Nat. The crew having amused themselves for some time, the captain ordered the mate to pipe to quarters. The bath was emptied, Neptune and his gang speedily doffed their theatrical costume and appeared in their proper dresses, each man hurrying to his station at the guns ready to meet an enemy should one have been in sight.

“You behaved wisely, Owen,” observed Captain Aggett the next day. “I saw that you were prettyseverely treated, but it would not have done for me to have interfered; depend upon it, the men will respect you the more for not having complained.”

Owen found that the captain was right. A day or two afterwards one of the men, as usual, was ill-treating Nat. Owen, who was on deck, went forward.

“If you had a younger brother, or a nephew, how would you like to see him rope’s ended and treated as you do that orphan boy, who has no friends to protect him?” he exclaimed.

“Are you an officer of this ship?” asked the man. “If not, what right have you to command me?”

“I do not command you,” said Owen, “I am merely asking you a simple question.”

“The young gentleman’s right,” observed several of the men. “Let him alone, Dan; the little chap has had hard lines since he came aboard here, from you and others, and we won’t stand by and see him ill-used any longer.”

Dan dropped the rope he held in his hand, and turned away, while Owen, hoping that he had gained friends for poor Nat, walked aft.

“He’ll make a smart officer one of these days,” observed one of the men.

“Ah, that he will, Ned,” said another. “He is as handy already as many who have been at sea ten times as long.”

The ship had now got well to the southward, and the influence of the trade-winds began to be felt. With yards squared she stood for the Cape.

Owen had just come on deck, when, looking forward, he saw a figure falling into the water. Instantly there was a cry of “man overboard.” He ran on to the poop. The first mate, who was the officer of the watch, instantly gave the necessary orders to clew up the courses, put the helm down, to brace the yards to starboard, and bring the ship on a wind. At the same time preparations were made to lower a boat.

Owen, who saw that the person, whoever he was, unless a good swimmer, would be drowned before a boat could be lowered, seized a grating, and hove it overboard, then throwing off his jacket, plunged after it. He, though little accustomed to salt water had been from his earliest days in the habit of swimming in a large pond not far from Fenside, and his pride had been to swim round it several times without resting. He now brought his experience into practice; pushing the grating before him, he made towards the drowning person, who, from the wild way in which he threw his arms about in attempting to keep afloat, was evidently no swimmer. The sea was tolerably smooth, so that Owen made good way, and in a short time he saw that the person was no other than his friend Nat Midge.

“Cheer up, Nat,” he shouted. “Do not exhaust yourself; keep your hands quiet and tread water.”

Nat heard him, and did his best to obey his injunctions. The ship appeared to be getting further and further from them, but the grating would be sufficient to support both if Owen once got it up to Nat. It was very clear, however, that Nat could not swim to it.

Owen struck out with all his might. He would have got on faster without the grating, but, in case Nat should get frightened, it might be dangerous to approach him. “It must be done, though,” thought Owen; “he will sink if I do not get up to him quickly.” Leaving the grating, therefore, he struck out rapidly for the boy, and had just time to seize him before, exhausted by his fruitless exertions, he was disappearing beneath the surface. Owen held him up. Happily the drowning lad retained his senses.

“Put your hand on my shoulders,” said Owen, “and I will tow you up to the grating; just float, and do not attempt to help yourself.”

Nat did as he was bid, and at length Owen had the satisfaction of reaching the grating, which Nat at once grasped.

“Hold on tight, and do not struggle so as to exhaust yourself. The boat will soon come to pick us up. If you can keep your head above water that is all that is necessary,” said Owen.

But Nat had scarcely sufficient strength even to hold on. Owen, therefore, taking one of his hands assisted him to retain his hold beside him. The grating enabled them to keep their heads well out of the water, and Owen found that he could raise himself high enough up to look about him. Where was the ship? She appeared far away to leeward, but, as she had hove to, he felt sure that a boat was being lowered. Still it seemed a long time to wait; the wind was increasing and the sea was getting up. It would be a hard matter to hold on to the grating, over which the sea frequently washed.

“They won’t leave us, Mr Hartley?” said Nat; “it would be hard for you to have to die with me.”

“No fear of that,” answered Owen. “Do not give way; and see, there’s the boat coming.”

He was right. The boat which had been lowered on the lee side at that moment appeared from under the stern of the vessel, and pulled rapidly towards them.

Owen undid his handkerchief and waved it above his head. He had thrown off his cap before he had jumped overboard.

The boat, which was commanded by the second mate, was soon up to them.

“You did that well and bravely, Hartley,” said Mr Grey, as Owen was seated by his side supporting poor Nat, who was in a very exhausted state. “I did not know even that you could swim, and you are the only one who thought of jumping overboard to the poor lad.”

Loud cheers greeted them as they came alongside, and Owen received the compliments of the captain and the officers; even Mr Scoones condescended to acknowledge that he had done a brave thing.

Nat, under the care of the doctor, soon recovered.

“You have saved my life, Mr Hartley, and you have stood my friend ever since I came on board this ship,” exclaimed Nat, the tears bursting from his eyes. “I wish I could show what I feel, but I cannot, and I never can thank you as much as I ought to do, that I know!”

“I don’t see that I did anything out of the way,” said Owen. “I saw somebody drowning, and I just acted as I judged best to save him; any tolerable swimmer could have done the same.”

“That may be, sir,” answered Nat, “but no one thought of doing it, and if you had not I should have been drowned, so I have good reason to thank you.”

Captain Aggett had been for some time unwell, although he had come on deck as usual. He now grew worse, and for days together was confined to his cabin. Owen endeavoured to repay the kindness he had received by being unremitting in his attentions. He sat by his bedside smoothing the pillow which supported his fevered head. He read to him whenever he was able to listen, and was always at hand to give him a cooling mixture with which to moisten his parched lips. Although he talked of going ashore at the Cape, he had so much recovered by the time the ship reached Table Bay that he resolved to continue the voyage.

The ship therefore only remained sufficient time to take in water and fresh provisions, and to have some slight repairs made which could not be done at sea, when she again sailed.

Owen had been very regular in taking observations, which Mr Grey always found to be correct, although they differed frequently from those of the first mate.

“The truth is that he is wrong, and you are right,” observed Mr Grey. “If the captain falls ill again I do not know which of us two is to navigate the ship. If we go by his calculations, the chances are that we shall run her bows on some rock or other.”

“I sincerely hope that the captain will not fall ill,” said Owen. “If he does, I am afraid that Mr Scoones will not acknowledge that he himself is ever out in his calculations.”

Unhappily the captain’s fever returned, and he became utterly unable to leave his berth. The doctor shook his head when speaking about him, and expressed a fear that his illness would prove fatal.

Chapter Five.The “Druid” had run more than half across the Indian Ocean. She had encountered a heavy gale, and had been driven somewhat out of her course, but the weather moderated, and she was now steering for the Straits of Sunda. Unfortunately she received considerable damage. One of her boats had been lost, her bulwarks stove in, and her fore-yard sprung.The captain, who had been on deck during the continuance of the gale, had over-exerted himself, and was now again confined to his cot. For several days, owing to a cloudy sky, no observation had been taken. Owen had one evening entered the cabin shortly before the time for taking a lunar observation, in order to ascertain the longitude. Mr Grey had just before gone on deck with his sextant.“Is the weather clear?” asked Captain Aggett.“Yes, sir. There are but few clouds, and I think we shall get a good observation.”“I must go on deck and take one,” said the captain, attempting to rise. He sank back, however, before he could get out of his cot. Owen endeavoured to assist him, but his strength was insufficient. Again the captain endeavoured to rise. “I am weaker than I fancied,” he murmured. He lay quiet for a few minutes.“Owen,” he said at length, “I am afraid that my days are numbered. I should have been thankful had I lived to carry the ship into port, but God may will it otherwise. If I die, when you get home, see my poor widow, and deliver to her such property as I possess. She will not be left as well off as I should wish. I have not been as prudent as I ought to have been.”“You may trust that to me, sir, and I will do the best I can,” answered Owen; “but perhaps you are not so ill as you suppose. Let me call the doctor, and he may give you something to restore your strength.”“Yes, call him; but I doubt if anything he can give me will do that,” answered the captain.The doctor had turned in, but immediately rose on being summoned by Owen. He brought some medicine with him, which he at once gave to the captain on feeling his pulse.“You are a brave man, Captain Aggett,” he said, “I will not disguise the truth from you. You are sinking. Any worldly matters you have to arrange should be settled without delay.”“I have done that already, doctor,” answered the captain, in a weak voice. “Who has the watch, Owen?”“The third mate, sir,” he answered.“I will see the first and second mates then, as soon as they have finished their observations. Go and call them, Owen,” said the captain.Owen hurried on deck. The second mate, with the assistance of the third, had just taken a satisfactory observation.Owen told Mr Grey that the captain wished to see him, but Mr Scoones had not made his appearance on deck. Owen found him in his berth, and gave him the captain’s message.“Dying, is he? That’s the lot of all men,” observed the mate in an indifferent tone.Owen saw that, although not tipsy, he had been drinking, but hoped that the captain’s last words would have a good effect. He therefore said—“Come, sir, quickly, or I fear that Captain Aggett may be dead before you get to him.”Unwilling to be absent longer than possible, he then hastened back to the cabin. The second mate was with the captain, who was weaker than before, although perfectly composed. He had been bidding Mr Grey farewell, and had been sending a few parting words to the officers and crew. The first mate soon appeared.“I wish to say good-bye, Mr Scoones,” said the captain. “I am anxious about one point, and you will pardon me if I tell you what it is. I know you to be a first-rate seaman; you are one of those who never order a man to do what you are not ready to do yourself; but you are not a good navigator, for I have several times found that you have made mistakes in your calculations. I wish, therefore, when you take command of this ship that you should trust to Mr Grey’s and Owen Hartley’s calculations. Owen has had the advantage of a careful training, so that you have no cause to be jealous of him.”“They may be the best calculators in the world for what I care,” answered the first mate, roughly; “but I will back Jonas Scoones to take a ship round the world with any man alive, so do not trouble yourself on that point, Captain Aggett. You and I have never had a tiff while we have sailed together, and I do not want to have one now, so I’ll say no more about the matter.”This unsatisfactory answer evidently pained the captain, but he was too weak to reply. He put out his hand.“I wish you would listen to reason,” he said. “The consequences may be serious if you do not.”The first mate turned away, for he was not a man who liked to be at a death-bed; it made him think of what might happen to himself.The captain being anxious to know the exact position of the ship, the second mate went into the main cabin to make his calculations.Owen and the doctor remained with the captain. He did not rally, and just before daybreak, as he himself believed would be the case, he breathed his last.The doctor, as was his duty, reported the event to the first mate.“We shall see who is going to be captain now,” exclaimed the latter—“Mr Grey, that youngster, or I. From the way Captain Aggett talked, one would have supposed that he fancied young Hartley was as well able to take charge of the ship as a man who has been to sea all his life. The youngster will soon find out his mistake.”Owen knew that Mr Scoones had now the power to treat him in any way he might please—to confine him to his cabin, or even to put him in irons; at all events, that his own position in the ship would be greatly altered. Scarcely, indeed, had the captain’s body been committed to its ocean grave than Mr Scoones turned him out of the cabin and made him take up his berth with the apprentices amidships. Owen bore his change of circumstances without complaining. He considered that there would be no use in expostulating with Mr Scoones; indeed, that by so doing he might make matters worse.The first mate, or rather the captain, for so he insisted on being called, ordered him about as he did the other apprentices, and made him perform the roughest style of work.“You want to be a sailor, my lad, and I never knew one who did not dip his hand in the tar bucket, and you will now have to put yours in very often,” he exclaimed. He then ordered Owen to black down some of the rigging.It was a seaman’s duty, and Owen was ready to perform it. Mr Scoones, seeing that he obeyed willingly, was resolved to try him yet further, and ordered him aft to sweep out the cabin and to wait upon him at table. The doctor, who was a kind man, on discovering this, advised Owen to decline obeying the order.“He now commands the ship, and as long as he does not direct me to do anything which will injure any one, I am bound, I consider, to obey,” answered Owen. “It is not pleasant, but I do not thus really disgrace myself.”Owen had been accustomed to take an observation with the captain and mates. As soon as he appeared, Mr Scoones ordered him off the poop, exclaiming, in an angry tone—“We don’t want any boys fresh from school here with their new-fangled notions. If I see that sextant again I will break it to pieces. The mates and I can look after the navigation of the ship, I expect, without your assistance.”Owen went below and stowed away his sextant, which was one given him by Captain Aggett, and which he highly prized. The other officers were indignant at the way in which Owen was treated, and no one was more so than Nat Midge. He almost cried with rage when Owen came below and told him what had occurred.“I don’t care for what he says,” observed Owen, “but I am vexed at not being allowed to improve myself in navigation. I hope that we may get a new captain when we reach Batavia.”“I am sure so do I,” said Nat. “If it were not for you, I’d run from the ship. I should not like to leave you, and I wish you would come with me.”Owen laughed. “I do not think we should improve matters by that,” he said. “It would only be like falling out of the frying pan into the fire.”“I could not be worse off than I am on board this ship, for I have led a dog’s life ever since our kind captain died,” answered Nat. “It was bad enough before, but I have been far worse treated since by the first mate and some of the men.”Owen endeavoured to comfort Nat. “When things get to the worst they are sure to change for the better,” he remarked. He ultimately persuaded Nat to bear patiently any ill-treatment he might receive.Several days passed by without any event of importance occurring, Owen all the time performing sailor boy’s duty. The second and third mates’ observations did not agree with those of the new commander, who, insisting that he was right, would not attend to theirs, but kept the ship on the course he had marked out. The weather had been tolerably fine since the first gale, but signs of a change now appeared. Mr Scoones, however, declared that the wind would not be down upon them for some hours to come, and kept all the canvas standing as before. Suddenly the wind dropped, and the sails flapped loudly against the masts. It was Mr Grey’s watch; he had just relieved the third mate. Casting his eye to the northward, he shouted—“All hands on deck; shorten sail! Be smart, my lads, or we shall have the masts whipped over the sides.”The crew who were on deck flew aloft; the watch below came tumbling up and hastened to join the rest, some laying out on the fore and main-topsail yards, while others handed the royals and topgallant sails. Owen, with the other boys, lay out on the mizen-topsail yard.“What’s all this about?” exclaimed Mr Scoones, who had been in his cabin. His face was flushed and manner excited. “Why don’t you wait until I order you to shorten sail?” he added, turning to the second mate.“Because there would not have been time to save the ship’s masts and spars,” answered Mr Grey, in a firmer tone than he had hitherto assumed.“Shake out the reefs and make sail again,” shouted the captain.“Go on, and carry out the orders I gave you!” cried Mr Grey. “While I remain second officer of this ship, I will not stand by and let her come to harm if I can help it.”“Mutiny! mutiny!” shouted Mr Scoones; but the men, who saw as clearly as the second mate the importance of shortening sail, continued their work. Even the boys, although holding him in dread, instigated by Owen and Nat, remained aloft, until they had handed the mizen-royal and topgallant sail, and close reefed the topsail. Scoones, completely beside himself, was hurrying off the deck, apparently for the purpose, from the words he let drop, of getting his pistols, when a long thin line of hissing foam was seen rushing across the ocean.“Down, my lads, down, quick,” cried the mate.The boys rapidly descended from the mizen-yard. Then the voice of the hurricane was heard, and a fierce wind struck the ship. In an instant she heeled over, and the close reefed mizen-topsail was blown from the bolt ropes. The helm being put up, she, however, righted, and away she flew before the hissing and foaming sea, which now rose up on either side as if eager to overwhelm her.“We must furl the main-topsail,” exclaimed Mr Grey, as soon as the yards were squared.Scarcely were the words uttered, than with a clap like thunder the sail was blown away, and flying out in tatters was quickly whisked round and round the yard. Whatever had been the intentions of the first mate, he now returned perfectly sobered, and taking the command, issued every subsequent order with coolness. He did not however, condescend to praise Mr Grey, by whose promptness the ship had been saved.For two days the ship ran on under a close reefed fore topsail. The fore-yard had been so well fished that it stood the immense strain put upon it, although most of the crew expected every instant to see it go. Once more the wind moderating, the sorely battered “Druid” hauled up again on her course. The sky, however, was obscured, and the weather thick, and no observation could be taken. Mr Grey had carefully kept the reckoning, and knew, as he believed, more or less, her position; but he found, on comparing notes, that the calculations made by Mr Scoones placed her at a considerable distance from where he supposed she was; he was therefore eagerly looking out for a glimpse of the sun by day or a star by night to ascertain which was correct. The wind was again favourable, and for some days they had been making good progress.It was night, and the ship was running along with a pretty stiff breeze and a moderate sea under whole topsails and topgallant sails. Mr Scoones, although acting as captain, found it necessary to keep his watch, in which Owen and Nat remained as before. The sky was cloudy, and as there was no moon it was very dark. A good look-out was kept forward, although the keenest pair of eyes could not have pierced the gloom many fathoms ahead. Mr Scoones paced the deck, every now and then, shouting to the men forward. Some care seemed to oppress him. He might not have had the full confidence in his own reckoning which he professed to have. Still, as the proud ship went scudding on across the broad ocean, no one would have supposed that danger was near.Owen was on the quarter-deck, when a startling cry came from forward.“Breakers ahead! breakers on the starboard bow!”“Down with the helm,” shouted the first mate, rushing to assist the man at the wheel; but ere he reached him an ominous grating noise was heard, the ship trembled through her whole frame, but she surged on.“We may yet scrape free,” cried some of the men, as they sprang to the braces.The next instant, however, there came a fearful crash; the tall masts tottered, the fore and main topmasts fell over the side, still leaving, however, the lower yards standing; the mizen mast at the same instant went by the board. The wheel spun round, casting the helmsman to the deck. A huge sea striking the devoted ship swept him and several others overboard.Owen found Nat Midge close to him.“Let us hold on to the stanchions until daylight, and we shall then see where we are,” said Owen. “There is no use in attempting to do anything now, and it is dangerous to move about, as we may be washed overboard.”In the meantime the rest of the officers and the watch had rushed on deck, and a cry arose of “Clear away the boats!” Several of the crew attempted to perform this difficult operation, but the fore-part of the first boat as she was being lowered hung in the falls, and the men who jumped into her were swept out, while she, driven against the side of the ship, was immediately knocked to pieces. An attempt was made to launch another boat on the same side, and although she reached the water, so many sprang into her that she filled before she could be shoved off. A few got on board by the falls, but the rest were drowned.“We will hoist out the long-boat,” cried Mr Scoones. “We shall have to cut away the masts, and we must get her into the water before that.”He issued the orders to rig the necessary tackles. As this boat was to be got into the water on the lee side, there was a greater probability of her swimming, provided she did not encounter any rocks.“Hadn’t we better try to get in her?” said Nat to Owen.“She is not in the water yet,” answered Owen, “and if she were, I doubt if Mr Scoones would let us; besides, she will run a great risk of being thrown on the rocks, or swamped during the darkness. The ship does not give signs of going to pieces yet; perhaps the wind may abate before morning, we shall then be able to get ashore on a raft, if any shore is near, and there is one boat left which nobody seems to have thought of launching.”“I’ll do as you advise, but perhaps we may get off in the boat by-and-by,” said Nat.They eagerly watched the operation of launching the long-boat. The seas, which had battered in a portion of the bulwarks, swept across the fore-part of the deck, and rendered it very difficult. Two or three of the men who neglected to secure themselves were carried overboard. One saved himself by a rope, but the shrieks of the others were heard as they struggled vainly in the seething ocean.What had become of the doctor, and the other officers and apprentices, Owen could not tell. Mr Scoones he could hear issuing his orders, but he had reason to fear that some of the others had been washed overboard, or perhaps killed by the falling blocks and spars. Still a good many men remained, the greater number of whom were engaged in lowering the boat on which they believed their safety depended. At length she was launched over the side, and five or six men got into her, and shouted out far oars.A search was made for them, but only three could be found; without more she would be almost helpless in the raging sea. She was now held by a warp, floating clear of the ship, which was working fearfully on the rocks.“She will go to pieces if we do not cut away the masts,” shouted Mr Scoones. “Axes! axes!”They were brought, and the boat being veered off to a safe distance, the two remaining masts were, with a few strokes, cut away, and falling over on the lee side, were allowed to float clear of the wreck.Nothing more could now be done until morning, for which all hands eagerly waited.“The boat won’t hold half of us. Let us form a raft, lads,” shouted Mr Fidd, the boatswain.This was no easy matter in the dark. The brave boatswain setting the example, a portion of the crew began to collect such spars as they could find on board, and to drag them to the after part of the deck, which was more protected than the other parts of the ship, over which the sea continually broke, carrying away everything before it.“We ought to be assisting,” cried Owen, who with Nat had hitherto retained their tolerably secure places. “We are better off here,” answered Nat. “It’s our duty to help our shipmates,” answered Owen, and he, followed by Nat, joined the working party.They found great difficulty in keeping on their feet. The deck was wet and slippery, and inclined over towards the lee side. The bulwarks on that side had been gradually torn away, so that every instant the risk increased of their being carried overboard. Still, Owen and his companions persevered One only of the apprentices had joined them. “Where are the others?” asked Owen.“They are gone, I am afraid. I saw them standing together trying to lower a boat, when a sea took the whole of them off their legs. I was nearly gone too, but got hold of a rope just in time to save myself,” was the answer.It would have been better if Mr Scoones had endeavoured to keep all the men employed. As soon as he had declared that nothing more could be done until daylight, several of them stole away instead of joining those working at the raft. Some time had passed, when Owen heard voices coming out of the captain’s cabin, some singing sea ditties, others shouting loudly in discordant tones.“The rascals have gone in and got drunk,” cried the boatswain, who heard them also. He made his way into the cabin, intending to turn them out. His efforts were in vain, they jeered and laughed at him.“If the ship goes down, we intend to go down with her,” cried one of his own mates. “A short life and a merry one. Oh! come and join us, old Fidd.”The boatswain finding remonstrance useless, and unwilling to waste time returned to his labours. Just at that moment there came a fearful crash, the stout timbers and beams were rent, as if composed of mere touchwood. The ship broke in two. The sea, rushing through the stern ports, swept every one out of the cabin, and the ribald songs and jests of those within were in a moment changed for cries of help and mercy.Owen and Nat regained their former position, where they were partially protected by the only portion of the bulwarks remaining above water. The survivors of the crew on the after part of the ship here joined them. The raft, still incomplete, remained on deck. What had become of the boat they could not tell, but shouts were heard amid the roaring of the sea, which came either from her, or from some of the men who had gained the other part of the wreck. No one having seen Mr Scoones, it was supposed that he had shared the fate of the other officers.Never had a night appeared so long to Owen. Eagerly he and his companions in misfortune looked out for the first streaks of dawn in the eastern horizon. They appeared at last, and a faint cheer burst from the seamen.“A sail! a sail!” cried Mike Coffey, an Irish seaman. All eyes were at once turned in the direction he pointed, but, as the light increased, disappointment took the place of the hopes which had been raised, and the jagged point of a rock, whitened by the sea-birds perched upon it, was seen rising above the troubled waters. The remnant of the shipwrecked crew now looked out in the opposite direction, in the hope of discovering land.A line of rocks rising a few feet out of the water were alone visible at the distance of eighty or a hundred fathoms from the ship.The long-boat, on which their hopes of safety depended, had been carried away when the ship parted, and was nowhere to be seen. By the increasing light, however, some people were observed on the rock. Those on the wreck waved to them. The signal was returned. Some of their shipmates had thus reached a place of comparative safety. As daylight increased the wind considerably lessened, but still the heavy surges continued beating against the wreck.“Come, lads,” cried the boatswain, “we will finish the raft, and get away from this before the old ship goes to pieces completely.”A second invitation was not required, and all hands set to work with a will. It was soon finished and launched, but how to guide it to the rocks was a difficult question.“Before we shove off we must try and get some provisions and water,” said Owen, more thoughtful than his companions.“You are right, youngster,” answered Mr Fidd. A cask of water which had washed up was fortunately secured, as was a tub of butter, a barrel of salt beef, and another of flour, and some cases containing cheese, dried fruit, and biscuits.Here was sufficient food to support the crew for a few days, should they reach the rocks in safety. There seethed, however, a greet likelihood of their not doing that, as the raft must inevitably be turned over by the surf as it reached the rocks, and dashed against them.“We must find a warp, lads, and then we will do it,” cried the boatswain.A search was made, and a rope of sufficient length and strength was discovered. One end was secured to the firmest part of the wreck, the rest of the coil being thrown on the raft.“Now, lads, steady,” cried the boatswain; “let each man take his place—four to the paddles, and the rest to stand by the warp to pay it out as I direct.”The raft was all this time surging up and down, go that the men had no little difficulty in seating themselves on it. Had there been any scrambling, many probably would have been washed off. The boatswain culling them by name, they sprang on to the raft two at a time, and secured themselves as he directed. Owen and Nat had not been summoned.“Are we to be left behind?” cried Nat.“Not if we can help it,” said Owen.Some of the men on the raft were shouting out, “Shove off! shove off!” Those nearest the wreck got out their knives and cut the ropes which held it. Owen and Nat rushed across the deck, and were about to spring on board, when the men who had charge of the warp paid it out, and a heavy sea sweeping round, carried the raft to a considerable distance.“Haul in again, lads, we must not leave those boys behind,” shouted the boatswain.But the men did not appear to heed him. They scarcely, indeed, had the power to do as he ordered. The raft went tossing up and down, and was carried farther and farther from the wreck.“Oh! they have deserted us,” cried Nat.“Never mind, we must make a raft for ourselves,” answered Owen; “the lighter the better, and the more the sea goes down, the more easily we shall get a landing on the rocks.” They found a couple of gratings, and two small spars. These they lashed together.“We must secure some lanyards to hold on by,” said Owen.There was still plenty of small rope which had become entangled in the shattered bulwarks, and their raft was soon completed. They had hitherto not had time to watch the progress of the large raft. Just as they were about to launch their own they looked out for it. At that moment they saw a sea strike it; the warp parted, or was carried out of the men’s hands, and the raft was turned completely over, the next instant to be dashed violently against the rocks, every soul being washed off. Owen saw that many of the men were striking out, and were helped up by their companions on the rocks.“The same thing may happen to our small raft,” said Nat.“I hope not,” said Owen; “we will make a couple of paddles, and we shall then be able to guide it.”They returned for this purpose. The tools, fortunately for them, had been left behind. The paddles were soon made.“In case we get on shore safely, these tools may be useful. You go first, Nat, and I will hand them to you,” said Owen.Nat sprang on to the raft. Owen then handed down a bag of nails, a hammer and saw, some gimlets and chisels, which Nat secured, as he was directed by Owen, who leapt down after him. As it was dangerous to remain alongside the wreck among the masses of timbers, they immediately cast off the ropes and began paddling away.Their slight raft was several times nearly struck by pieces of floating wreck. Shoving away from them with their paddles, they, however, floated clear. Owen observed an opening between two of the higher rocks.“If we can pass through there we may get round the lee side, and land without difficulty,” he said.They exerted all their strength to reach the opening. Again they were in great danger from a piece of wreck which came surging up and down close to them. They, however, scraped clear of it. “We shall get through now,” cried Owen; “paddle away, Nat.”In a few minutes more they reached the opening, which was just wide enough to allow their small raft to pass through.“Hurrah! we have done it,” cried Nat, as they saw the white surf breaking astern of them. The current, however, threatened to carry them out to sea, but by great exertion they kept close to the rocks, and paddled on. At length they reached the rock where their shipmates were collected. As they scrambled up on the rock the first person they saw was Mr Scoones.“Well, youngsters, you little expected to find me here, I’ve an opinion,” he said; “you’ll have to look out, and do as I order you.”Owen had expected a more friendly greeting from those who had escaped. Neither he nor Nat made any reply. They at once carried up the tools which they had brought for safety to the top of the rock. Several of the men who had reached the rock congratulated them on their escape. Owen inquired for Mr Grey and the other officers. No one had seen them, and it was feared that they had been washed away by the seas which broke over the ship when she first struck. The long-boat had been driven against the rocks and dashed to pieces, although those in her had managed to reach the rock. Owen was grieved also to hear that the boatswain had been lost, with several of the men, when the raft turned over. The only officer, indeed, who had escaped was Mr Scoones.The position of the sufferers, numbering altogether twenty persons, was still dangerous in the extreme, as at any moment the sea might rise and sweep them all away. As the morning mists cleared off and the sun burst forth, they saw, a couple of miles to the eastward and southward, a sand-bank, which rose apparently some feet above the water. The intervening space appeared to be filled up with rocks and sand, so that it might be passed by wading, and perhaps occasionally swimming to get over it. Mr Scoones pointed out to the men that their only chance of safety was at once to get to the sand-bank, which was of considerable extent.“The youngsters raft will assist us to carry across the things which have been saved,” he observed.Fortunately most of the casks which had been brought by the large raft had been picked up, as well as a good many others. Those which would not float of themselves were now placed on the small raft, and the mate, taking a long spar in his hand, set out to lead the way. Four of the men took charge of the raft, while others dragged after them casks of beef and water and two of beer. Owen was thankful that no spirits had been picked up. He knew too well what would have been the consequence.“I am afraid, Owen, that I shall not be able to get across if there are any deep places,” said Nat, “as you know I cannot swim.”“Then you keep close to the raft, and I will get the men to let you hold on to it.”The two lads had taken two of the casks of water, which was as much as they could drag. The men who had charge of the raft, fortunately, were amongst the best of the crew, and at once acceded to Owen’s request; indeed they looked upon him as an officer, and were willing to obey him as such. Mr Scoones, who was a powerful man, aided by his long pole, made great progress. Every now and then, when he got to a distance from the men, he turned round and shouted to them to come faster.“It’s all very well for him to cry out come faster when he has got nothing to carry,” grumbled some of the men.Presently, as he was shouting out, he was seen suddenly to sink down; he had stepped without feeling his way into deep water. He, however, at once struck out; in a short time he again rose, and pressed on as before. When the raft reached the deep water Owen made Nat hold on to it, and he swimming they soon got across. Several of the men, however, who could not swim had to be assisted by their shipmates and dragged over by ropes, which the best swimmers carried across. As they went along they found several articles floating about, and these were added to those they were dragging with them.They were crossing a narrow channel, in which the water reached up to their middles, when one of the men cried out, “A big fish; he will serve us for dinner.” The fish swam up the channel where the water was shallower. Chase was made, and before it could escape it was overtaken by two of the men, who had provided themselves with broken spars as walking sticks. Having stunned it by the heavy blows they inflicted, they towed it back in triumph.“Why, you have got a young shark!” exclaimed Mike Coffey; “surely he’ll be eating us up, for he’s only half kilt.” Whereupon the Irishman, taking out his knife, nearly severed its head from its body. “He’ll not be afther doing us any harm now,” he said, laughing, as he secured the prize.At length the sand-bank was reached. It was found to be much higher out of the water than at first supposed, and of considerable extent; but not a tree grew upon it, nor was it probable that a spring of water would be found there. They might exist for a short time, exposed to the burning rays of the sun by day and the dews by night. When Owen looked at the two small casks of water, he reflected that it could not last more than five or six days, even with the greatest economy. The raft being hauled up on the beach, the various articles they had brought were placed together.“Men,” said Mr Scoones, “we have got provisions enough here to keep body and soul together for ten days or more; in the meantime we must see what can be done to make our escape. Perhaps one of the boats may be driven on shore, or, if not, we must build a raft and make our way to Java, or maybe some ship may appear and take us off. It won’t do for at to be down-hearted.”“Can you tell about where we are?” asked Owen.“What’s that to you, youngster?” answered the mate, who in reality had been utterly ignorant of the position of the ship when she struck.Owen walked away: he saw that the less communication he had with Mr Scoones the better.He proposed to Mike Coffey and two other men that they should make an excursion along the beach, in the hopes of picking up any articles which might be washed ashore from the wreck.“Shure, we will have our dinner first off the shark,” observed Mike, “or there will be but poor picking for us when we come back.”Among the things saved was a tinder box and matches; the latter were perfectly wet, and it was supposed that they were spoiled. Owen, however, undertook to dry them.“If you will pick up the fuel, we will soon have a fire burning,” he observed.By exposing the matches to the hot sun they quickly dried. From portions of the wreck driven on shore during the night and old drift wood, a sufficient amount of fuel was collected to form a good fire. After some trouble one of the matches was lighted. The men cheered as they saw it blaze up, and bits of paper were produced to catch the welcome flame. In a short time a good fire was burning, at which the shark, cut up in pieces, was placed to cook.Owen saw the beer barrel broached with considerable uneasiness. However, he could not interfere. All hands obtained a good meal from the roasted shark and some sopped biscuit, which Mr Scoones served out to them. Owen and his companions then set out, and were fortunate enough in finding several casks, cases, and bales of goods; and what was of still greater value, the main topmast, with its spars, rigging and canvas, although apparently in inextricable entanglement. They immediately set to work, however, and, by using their knives, succeeded in dragging up a topsail and topgallant sail.“This will assist us in forming a tent,” said Owen; “and if we can find another sail or two we may have shelter enough for all hands.”Two of the men volunteered to tow the heavier articles they had found along the beach, while Owen, with Nat and Mike, dragged the sails to where they had left their companions.“Shure,” said Mike, “it would be wiser to camp where we are, or maybe, when we get the tent up, Mr Scoones will be afther turnin’ us out.”“I hope he won’t act so unjustly,” said Owen; “and we must not set the example of selfishness for fear of his doing so.”The spars they had brought served as a tent pole, and as there were plenty of lengths of small rope, in a short time a tent was put up of sufficient size to accommodate the whole party. As they were all very weary, they gladly lay down to rest, and thus commenced their first night on this truly desert island.

The “Druid” had run more than half across the Indian Ocean. She had encountered a heavy gale, and had been driven somewhat out of her course, but the weather moderated, and she was now steering for the Straits of Sunda. Unfortunately she received considerable damage. One of her boats had been lost, her bulwarks stove in, and her fore-yard sprung.

The captain, who had been on deck during the continuance of the gale, had over-exerted himself, and was now again confined to his cot. For several days, owing to a cloudy sky, no observation had been taken. Owen had one evening entered the cabin shortly before the time for taking a lunar observation, in order to ascertain the longitude. Mr Grey had just before gone on deck with his sextant.

“Is the weather clear?” asked Captain Aggett.

“Yes, sir. There are but few clouds, and I think we shall get a good observation.”

“I must go on deck and take one,” said the captain, attempting to rise. He sank back, however, before he could get out of his cot. Owen endeavoured to assist him, but his strength was insufficient. Again the captain endeavoured to rise. “I am weaker than I fancied,” he murmured. He lay quiet for a few minutes.

“Owen,” he said at length, “I am afraid that my days are numbered. I should have been thankful had I lived to carry the ship into port, but God may will it otherwise. If I die, when you get home, see my poor widow, and deliver to her such property as I possess. She will not be left as well off as I should wish. I have not been as prudent as I ought to have been.”

“You may trust that to me, sir, and I will do the best I can,” answered Owen; “but perhaps you are not so ill as you suppose. Let me call the doctor, and he may give you something to restore your strength.”

“Yes, call him; but I doubt if anything he can give me will do that,” answered the captain.

The doctor had turned in, but immediately rose on being summoned by Owen. He brought some medicine with him, which he at once gave to the captain on feeling his pulse.

“You are a brave man, Captain Aggett,” he said, “I will not disguise the truth from you. You are sinking. Any worldly matters you have to arrange should be settled without delay.”

“I have done that already, doctor,” answered the captain, in a weak voice. “Who has the watch, Owen?”

“The third mate, sir,” he answered.

“I will see the first and second mates then, as soon as they have finished their observations. Go and call them, Owen,” said the captain.

Owen hurried on deck. The second mate, with the assistance of the third, had just taken a satisfactory observation.

Owen told Mr Grey that the captain wished to see him, but Mr Scoones had not made his appearance on deck. Owen found him in his berth, and gave him the captain’s message.

“Dying, is he? That’s the lot of all men,” observed the mate in an indifferent tone.

Owen saw that, although not tipsy, he had been drinking, but hoped that the captain’s last words would have a good effect. He therefore said—

“Come, sir, quickly, or I fear that Captain Aggett may be dead before you get to him.”

Unwilling to be absent longer than possible, he then hastened back to the cabin. The second mate was with the captain, who was weaker than before, although perfectly composed. He had been bidding Mr Grey farewell, and had been sending a few parting words to the officers and crew. The first mate soon appeared.

“I wish to say good-bye, Mr Scoones,” said the captain. “I am anxious about one point, and you will pardon me if I tell you what it is. I know you to be a first-rate seaman; you are one of those who never order a man to do what you are not ready to do yourself; but you are not a good navigator, for I have several times found that you have made mistakes in your calculations. I wish, therefore, when you take command of this ship that you should trust to Mr Grey’s and Owen Hartley’s calculations. Owen has had the advantage of a careful training, so that you have no cause to be jealous of him.”

“They may be the best calculators in the world for what I care,” answered the first mate, roughly; “but I will back Jonas Scoones to take a ship round the world with any man alive, so do not trouble yourself on that point, Captain Aggett. You and I have never had a tiff while we have sailed together, and I do not want to have one now, so I’ll say no more about the matter.”

This unsatisfactory answer evidently pained the captain, but he was too weak to reply. He put out his hand.

“I wish you would listen to reason,” he said. “The consequences may be serious if you do not.”

The first mate turned away, for he was not a man who liked to be at a death-bed; it made him think of what might happen to himself.

The captain being anxious to know the exact position of the ship, the second mate went into the main cabin to make his calculations.

Owen and the doctor remained with the captain. He did not rally, and just before daybreak, as he himself believed would be the case, he breathed his last.

The doctor, as was his duty, reported the event to the first mate.

“We shall see who is going to be captain now,” exclaimed the latter—“Mr Grey, that youngster, or I. From the way Captain Aggett talked, one would have supposed that he fancied young Hartley was as well able to take charge of the ship as a man who has been to sea all his life. The youngster will soon find out his mistake.”

Owen knew that Mr Scoones had now the power to treat him in any way he might please—to confine him to his cabin, or even to put him in irons; at all events, that his own position in the ship would be greatly altered. Scarcely, indeed, had the captain’s body been committed to its ocean grave than Mr Scoones turned him out of the cabin and made him take up his berth with the apprentices amidships. Owen bore his change of circumstances without complaining. He considered that there would be no use in expostulating with Mr Scoones; indeed, that by so doing he might make matters worse.

The first mate, or rather the captain, for so he insisted on being called, ordered him about as he did the other apprentices, and made him perform the roughest style of work.

“You want to be a sailor, my lad, and I never knew one who did not dip his hand in the tar bucket, and you will now have to put yours in very often,” he exclaimed. He then ordered Owen to black down some of the rigging.

It was a seaman’s duty, and Owen was ready to perform it. Mr Scoones, seeing that he obeyed willingly, was resolved to try him yet further, and ordered him aft to sweep out the cabin and to wait upon him at table. The doctor, who was a kind man, on discovering this, advised Owen to decline obeying the order.

“He now commands the ship, and as long as he does not direct me to do anything which will injure any one, I am bound, I consider, to obey,” answered Owen. “It is not pleasant, but I do not thus really disgrace myself.”

Owen had been accustomed to take an observation with the captain and mates. As soon as he appeared, Mr Scoones ordered him off the poop, exclaiming, in an angry tone—

“We don’t want any boys fresh from school here with their new-fangled notions. If I see that sextant again I will break it to pieces. The mates and I can look after the navigation of the ship, I expect, without your assistance.”

Owen went below and stowed away his sextant, which was one given him by Captain Aggett, and which he highly prized. The other officers were indignant at the way in which Owen was treated, and no one was more so than Nat Midge. He almost cried with rage when Owen came below and told him what had occurred.

“I don’t care for what he says,” observed Owen, “but I am vexed at not being allowed to improve myself in navigation. I hope that we may get a new captain when we reach Batavia.”

“I am sure so do I,” said Nat. “If it were not for you, I’d run from the ship. I should not like to leave you, and I wish you would come with me.”

Owen laughed. “I do not think we should improve matters by that,” he said. “It would only be like falling out of the frying pan into the fire.”

“I could not be worse off than I am on board this ship, for I have led a dog’s life ever since our kind captain died,” answered Nat. “It was bad enough before, but I have been far worse treated since by the first mate and some of the men.”

Owen endeavoured to comfort Nat. “When things get to the worst they are sure to change for the better,” he remarked. He ultimately persuaded Nat to bear patiently any ill-treatment he might receive.

Several days passed by without any event of importance occurring, Owen all the time performing sailor boy’s duty. The second and third mates’ observations did not agree with those of the new commander, who, insisting that he was right, would not attend to theirs, but kept the ship on the course he had marked out. The weather had been tolerably fine since the first gale, but signs of a change now appeared. Mr Scoones, however, declared that the wind would not be down upon them for some hours to come, and kept all the canvas standing as before. Suddenly the wind dropped, and the sails flapped loudly against the masts. It was Mr Grey’s watch; he had just relieved the third mate. Casting his eye to the northward, he shouted—

“All hands on deck; shorten sail! Be smart, my lads, or we shall have the masts whipped over the sides.”

The crew who were on deck flew aloft; the watch below came tumbling up and hastened to join the rest, some laying out on the fore and main-topsail yards, while others handed the royals and topgallant sails. Owen, with the other boys, lay out on the mizen-topsail yard.

“What’s all this about?” exclaimed Mr Scoones, who had been in his cabin. His face was flushed and manner excited. “Why don’t you wait until I order you to shorten sail?” he added, turning to the second mate.

“Because there would not have been time to save the ship’s masts and spars,” answered Mr Grey, in a firmer tone than he had hitherto assumed.

“Shake out the reefs and make sail again,” shouted the captain.

“Go on, and carry out the orders I gave you!” cried Mr Grey. “While I remain second officer of this ship, I will not stand by and let her come to harm if I can help it.”

“Mutiny! mutiny!” shouted Mr Scoones; but the men, who saw as clearly as the second mate the importance of shortening sail, continued their work. Even the boys, although holding him in dread, instigated by Owen and Nat, remained aloft, until they had handed the mizen-royal and topgallant sail, and close reefed the topsail. Scoones, completely beside himself, was hurrying off the deck, apparently for the purpose, from the words he let drop, of getting his pistols, when a long thin line of hissing foam was seen rushing across the ocean.

“Down, my lads, down, quick,” cried the mate.

The boys rapidly descended from the mizen-yard. Then the voice of the hurricane was heard, and a fierce wind struck the ship. In an instant she heeled over, and the close reefed mizen-topsail was blown from the bolt ropes. The helm being put up, she, however, righted, and away she flew before the hissing and foaming sea, which now rose up on either side as if eager to overwhelm her.

“We must furl the main-topsail,” exclaimed Mr Grey, as soon as the yards were squared.

Scarcely were the words uttered, than with a clap like thunder the sail was blown away, and flying out in tatters was quickly whisked round and round the yard. Whatever had been the intentions of the first mate, he now returned perfectly sobered, and taking the command, issued every subsequent order with coolness. He did not however, condescend to praise Mr Grey, by whose promptness the ship had been saved.

For two days the ship ran on under a close reefed fore topsail. The fore-yard had been so well fished that it stood the immense strain put upon it, although most of the crew expected every instant to see it go. Once more the wind moderating, the sorely battered “Druid” hauled up again on her course. The sky, however, was obscured, and the weather thick, and no observation could be taken. Mr Grey had carefully kept the reckoning, and knew, as he believed, more or less, her position; but he found, on comparing notes, that the calculations made by Mr Scoones placed her at a considerable distance from where he supposed she was; he was therefore eagerly looking out for a glimpse of the sun by day or a star by night to ascertain which was correct. The wind was again favourable, and for some days they had been making good progress.

It was night, and the ship was running along with a pretty stiff breeze and a moderate sea under whole topsails and topgallant sails. Mr Scoones, although acting as captain, found it necessary to keep his watch, in which Owen and Nat remained as before. The sky was cloudy, and as there was no moon it was very dark. A good look-out was kept forward, although the keenest pair of eyes could not have pierced the gloom many fathoms ahead. Mr Scoones paced the deck, every now and then, shouting to the men forward. Some care seemed to oppress him. He might not have had the full confidence in his own reckoning which he professed to have. Still, as the proud ship went scudding on across the broad ocean, no one would have supposed that danger was near.

Owen was on the quarter-deck, when a startling cry came from forward.

“Breakers ahead! breakers on the starboard bow!”

“Down with the helm,” shouted the first mate, rushing to assist the man at the wheel; but ere he reached him an ominous grating noise was heard, the ship trembled through her whole frame, but she surged on.

“We may yet scrape free,” cried some of the men, as they sprang to the braces.

The next instant, however, there came a fearful crash; the tall masts tottered, the fore and main topmasts fell over the side, still leaving, however, the lower yards standing; the mizen mast at the same instant went by the board. The wheel spun round, casting the helmsman to the deck. A huge sea striking the devoted ship swept him and several others overboard.

Owen found Nat Midge close to him.

“Let us hold on to the stanchions until daylight, and we shall then see where we are,” said Owen. “There is no use in attempting to do anything now, and it is dangerous to move about, as we may be washed overboard.”

In the meantime the rest of the officers and the watch had rushed on deck, and a cry arose of “Clear away the boats!” Several of the crew attempted to perform this difficult operation, but the fore-part of the first boat as she was being lowered hung in the falls, and the men who jumped into her were swept out, while she, driven against the side of the ship, was immediately knocked to pieces. An attempt was made to launch another boat on the same side, and although she reached the water, so many sprang into her that she filled before she could be shoved off. A few got on board by the falls, but the rest were drowned.

“We will hoist out the long-boat,” cried Mr Scoones. “We shall have to cut away the masts, and we must get her into the water before that.”

He issued the orders to rig the necessary tackles. As this boat was to be got into the water on the lee side, there was a greater probability of her swimming, provided she did not encounter any rocks.

“Hadn’t we better try to get in her?” said Nat to Owen.

“She is not in the water yet,” answered Owen, “and if she were, I doubt if Mr Scoones would let us; besides, she will run a great risk of being thrown on the rocks, or swamped during the darkness. The ship does not give signs of going to pieces yet; perhaps the wind may abate before morning, we shall then be able to get ashore on a raft, if any shore is near, and there is one boat left which nobody seems to have thought of launching.”

“I’ll do as you advise, but perhaps we may get off in the boat by-and-by,” said Nat.

They eagerly watched the operation of launching the long-boat. The seas, which had battered in a portion of the bulwarks, swept across the fore-part of the deck, and rendered it very difficult. Two or three of the men who neglected to secure themselves were carried overboard. One saved himself by a rope, but the shrieks of the others were heard as they struggled vainly in the seething ocean.

What had become of the doctor, and the other officers and apprentices, Owen could not tell. Mr Scoones he could hear issuing his orders, but he had reason to fear that some of the others had been washed overboard, or perhaps killed by the falling blocks and spars. Still a good many men remained, the greater number of whom were engaged in lowering the boat on which they believed their safety depended. At length she was launched over the side, and five or six men got into her, and shouted out far oars.

A search was made for them, but only three could be found; without more she would be almost helpless in the raging sea. She was now held by a warp, floating clear of the ship, which was working fearfully on the rocks.

“She will go to pieces if we do not cut away the masts,” shouted Mr Scoones. “Axes! axes!”

They were brought, and the boat being veered off to a safe distance, the two remaining masts were, with a few strokes, cut away, and falling over on the lee side, were allowed to float clear of the wreck.

Nothing more could now be done until morning, for which all hands eagerly waited.

“The boat won’t hold half of us. Let us form a raft, lads,” shouted Mr Fidd, the boatswain.

This was no easy matter in the dark. The brave boatswain setting the example, a portion of the crew began to collect such spars as they could find on board, and to drag them to the after part of the deck, which was more protected than the other parts of the ship, over which the sea continually broke, carrying away everything before it.

“We ought to be assisting,” cried Owen, who with Nat had hitherto retained their tolerably secure places. “We are better off here,” answered Nat. “It’s our duty to help our shipmates,” answered Owen, and he, followed by Nat, joined the working party.

They found great difficulty in keeping on their feet. The deck was wet and slippery, and inclined over towards the lee side. The bulwarks on that side had been gradually torn away, so that every instant the risk increased of their being carried overboard. Still, Owen and his companions persevered One only of the apprentices had joined them. “Where are the others?” asked Owen.

“They are gone, I am afraid. I saw them standing together trying to lower a boat, when a sea took the whole of them off their legs. I was nearly gone too, but got hold of a rope just in time to save myself,” was the answer.

It would have been better if Mr Scoones had endeavoured to keep all the men employed. As soon as he had declared that nothing more could be done until daylight, several of them stole away instead of joining those working at the raft. Some time had passed, when Owen heard voices coming out of the captain’s cabin, some singing sea ditties, others shouting loudly in discordant tones.

“The rascals have gone in and got drunk,” cried the boatswain, who heard them also. He made his way into the cabin, intending to turn them out. His efforts were in vain, they jeered and laughed at him.

“If the ship goes down, we intend to go down with her,” cried one of his own mates. “A short life and a merry one. Oh! come and join us, old Fidd.”

The boatswain finding remonstrance useless, and unwilling to waste time returned to his labours. Just at that moment there came a fearful crash, the stout timbers and beams were rent, as if composed of mere touchwood. The ship broke in two. The sea, rushing through the stern ports, swept every one out of the cabin, and the ribald songs and jests of those within were in a moment changed for cries of help and mercy.

Owen and Nat regained their former position, where they were partially protected by the only portion of the bulwarks remaining above water. The survivors of the crew on the after part of the ship here joined them. The raft, still incomplete, remained on deck. What had become of the boat they could not tell, but shouts were heard amid the roaring of the sea, which came either from her, or from some of the men who had gained the other part of the wreck. No one having seen Mr Scoones, it was supposed that he had shared the fate of the other officers.

Never had a night appeared so long to Owen. Eagerly he and his companions in misfortune looked out for the first streaks of dawn in the eastern horizon. They appeared at last, and a faint cheer burst from the seamen.

“A sail! a sail!” cried Mike Coffey, an Irish seaman. All eyes were at once turned in the direction he pointed, but, as the light increased, disappointment took the place of the hopes which had been raised, and the jagged point of a rock, whitened by the sea-birds perched upon it, was seen rising above the troubled waters. The remnant of the shipwrecked crew now looked out in the opposite direction, in the hope of discovering land.

A line of rocks rising a few feet out of the water were alone visible at the distance of eighty or a hundred fathoms from the ship.

The long-boat, on which their hopes of safety depended, had been carried away when the ship parted, and was nowhere to be seen. By the increasing light, however, some people were observed on the rock. Those on the wreck waved to them. The signal was returned. Some of their shipmates had thus reached a place of comparative safety. As daylight increased the wind considerably lessened, but still the heavy surges continued beating against the wreck.

“Come, lads,” cried the boatswain, “we will finish the raft, and get away from this before the old ship goes to pieces completely.”

A second invitation was not required, and all hands set to work with a will. It was soon finished and launched, but how to guide it to the rocks was a difficult question.

“Before we shove off we must try and get some provisions and water,” said Owen, more thoughtful than his companions.

“You are right, youngster,” answered Mr Fidd. A cask of water which had washed up was fortunately secured, as was a tub of butter, a barrel of salt beef, and another of flour, and some cases containing cheese, dried fruit, and biscuits.

Here was sufficient food to support the crew for a few days, should they reach the rocks in safety. There seethed, however, a greet likelihood of their not doing that, as the raft must inevitably be turned over by the surf as it reached the rocks, and dashed against them.

“We must find a warp, lads, and then we will do it,” cried the boatswain.

A search was made, and a rope of sufficient length and strength was discovered. One end was secured to the firmest part of the wreck, the rest of the coil being thrown on the raft.

“Now, lads, steady,” cried the boatswain; “let each man take his place—four to the paddles, and the rest to stand by the warp to pay it out as I direct.”

The raft was all this time surging up and down, go that the men had no little difficulty in seating themselves on it. Had there been any scrambling, many probably would have been washed off. The boatswain culling them by name, they sprang on to the raft two at a time, and secured themselves as he directed. Owen and Nat had not been summoned.

“Are we to be left behind?” cried Nat.

“Not if we can help it,” said Owen.

Some of the men on the raft were shouting out, “Shove off! shove off!” Those nearest the wreck got out their knives and cut the ropes which held it. Owen and Nat rushed across the deck, and were about to spring on board, when the men who had charge of the warp paid it out, and a heavy sea sweeping round, carried the raft to a considerable distance.

“Haul in again, lads, we must not leave those boys behind,” shouted the boatswain.

But the men did not appear to heed him. They scarcely, indeed, had the power to do as he ordered. The raft went tossing up and down, and was carried farther and farther from the wreck.

“Oh! they have deserted us,” cried Nat.

“Never mind, we must make a raft for ourselves,” answered Owen; “the lighter the better, and the more the sea goes down, the more easily we shall get a landing on the rocks.” They found a couple of gratings, and two small spars. These they lashed together.

“We must secure some lanyards to hold on by,” said Owen.

There was still plenty of small rope which had become entangled in the shattered bulwarks, and their raft was soon completed. They had hitherto not had time to watch the progress of the large raft. Just as they were about to launch their own they looked out for it. At that moment they saw a sea strike it; the warp parted, or was carried out of the men’s hands, and the raft was turned completely over, the next instant to be dashed violently against the rocks, every soul being washed off. Owen saw that many of the men were striking out, and were helped up by their companions on the rocks.

“The same thing may happen to our small raft,” said Nat.

“I hope not,” said Owen; “we will make a couple of paddles, and we shall then be able to guide it.”

They returned for this purpose. The tools, fortunately for them, had been left behind. The paddles were soon made.

“In case we get on shore safely, these tools may be useful. You go first, Nat, and I will hand them to you,” said Owen.

Nat sprang on to the raft. Owen then handed down a bag of nails, a hammer and saw, some gimlets and chisels, which Nat secured, as he was directed by Owen, who leapt down after him. As it was dangerous to remain alongside the wreck among the masses of timbers, they immediately cast off the ropes and began paddling away.

Their slight raft was several times nearly struck by pieces of floating wreck. Shoving away from them with their paddles, they, however, floated clear. Owen observed an opening between two of the higher rocks.

“If we can pass through there we may get round the lee side, and land without difficulty,” he said.

They exerted all their strength to reach the opening. Again they were in great danger from a piece of wreck which came surging up and down close to them. They, however, scraped clear of it. “We shall get through now,” cried Owen; “paddle away, Nat.”

In a few minutes more they reached the opening, which was just wide enough to allow their small raft to pass through.

“Hurrah! we have done it,” cried Nat, as they saw the white surf breaking astern of them. The current, however, threatened to carry them out to sea, but by great exertion they kept close to the rocks, and paddled on. At length they reached the rock where their shipmates were collected. As they scrambled up on the rock the first person they saw was Mr Scoones.

“Well, youngsters, you little expected to find me here, I’ve an opinion,” he said; “you’ll have to look out, and do as I order you.”

Owen had expected a more friendly greeting from those who had escaped. Neither he nor Nat made any reply. They at once carried up the tools which they had brought for safety to the top of the rock. Several of the men who had reached the rock congratulated them on their escape. Owen inquired for Mr Grey and the other officers. No one had seen them, and it was feared that they had been washed away by the seas which broke over the ship when she first struck. The long-boat had been driven against the rocks and dashed to pieces, although those in her had managed to reach the rock. Owen was grieved also to hear that the boatswain had been lost, with several of the men, when the raft turned over. The only officer, indeed, who had escaped was Mr Scoones.

The position of the sufferers, numbering altogether twenty persons, was still dangerous in the extreme, as at any moment the sea might rise and sweep them all away. As the morning mists cleared off and the sun burst forth, they saw, a couple of miles to the eastward and southward, a sand-bank, which rose apparently some feet above the water. The intervening space appeared to be filled up with rocks and sand, so that it might be passed by wading, and perhaps occasionally swimming to get over it. Mr Scoones pointed out to the men that their only chance of safety was at once to get to the sand-bank, which was of considerable extent.

“The youngsters raft will assist us to carry across the things which have been saved,” he observed.

Fortunately most of the casks which had been brought by the large raft had been picked up, as well as a good many others. Those which would not float of themselves were now placed on the small raft, and the mate, taking a long spar in his hand, set out to lead the way. Four of the men took charge of the raft, while others dragged after them casks of beef and water and two of beer. Owen was thankful that no spirits had been picked up. He knew too well what would have been the consequence.

“I am afraid, Owen, that I shall not be able to get across if there are any deep places,” said Nat, “as you know I cannot swim.”

“Then you keep close to the raft, and I will get the men to let you hold on to it.”

The two lads had taken two of the casks of water, which was as much as they could drag. The men who had charge of the raft, fortunately, were amongst the best of the crew, and at once acceded to Owen’s request; indeed they looked upon him as an officer, and were willing to obey him as such. Mr Scoones, who was a powerful man, aided by his long pole, made great progress. Every now and then, when he got to a distance from the men, he turned round and shouted to them to come faster.

“It’s all very well for him to cry out come faster when he has got nothing to carry,” grumbled some of the men.

Presently, as he was shouting out, he was seen suddenly to sink down; he had stepped without feeling his way into deep water. He, however, at once struck out; in a short time he again rose, and pressed on as before. When the raft reached the deep water Owen made Nat hold on to it, and he swimming they soon got across. Several of the men, however, who could not swim had to be assisted by their shipmates and dragged over by ropes, which the best swimmers carried across. As they went along they found several articles floating about, and these were added to those they were dragging with them.

They were crossing a narrow channel, in which the water reached up to their middles, when one of the men cried out, “A big fish; he will serve us for dinner.” The fish swam up the channel where the water was shallower. Chase was made, and before it could escape it was overtaken by two of the men, who had provided themselves with broken spars as walking sticks. Having stunned it by the heavy blows they inflicted, they towed it back in triumph.

“Why, you have got a young shark!” exclaimed Mike Coffey; “surely he’ll be eating us up, for he’s only half kilt.” Whereupon the Irishman, taking out his knife, nearly severed its head from its body. “He’ll not be afther doing us any harm now,” he said, laughing, as he secured the prize.

At length the sand-bank was reached. It was found to be much higher out of the water than at first supposed, and of considerable extent; but not a tree grew upon it, nor was it probable that a spring of water would be found there. They might exist for a short time, exposed to the burning rays of the sun by day and the dews by night. When Owen looked at the two small casks of water, he reflected that it could not last more than five or six days, even with the greatest economy. The raft being hauled up on the beach, the various articles they had brought were placed together.

“Men,” said Mr Scoones, “we have got provisions enough here to keep body and soul together for ten days or more; in the meantime we must see what can be done to make our escape. Perhaps one of the boats may be driven on shore, or, if not, we must build a raft and make our way to Java, or maybe some ship may appear and take us off. It won’t do for at to be down-hearted.”

“Can you tell about where we are?” asked Owen.

“What’s that to you, youngster?” answered the mate, who in reality had been utterly ignorant of the position of the ship when she struck.

Owen walked away: he saw that the less communication he had with Mr Scoones the better.

He proposed to Mike Coffey and two other men that they should make an excursion along the beach, in the hopes of picking up any articles which might be washed ashore from the wreck.

“Shure, we will have our dinner first off the shark,” observed Mike, “or there will be but poor picking for us when we come back.”

Among the things saved was a tinder box and matches; the latter were perfectly wet, and it was supposed that they were spoiled. Owen, however, undertook to dry them.

“If you will pick up the fuel, we will soon have a fire burning,” he observed.

By exposing the matches to the hot sun they quickly dried. From portions of the wreck driven on shore during the night and old drift wood, a sufficient amount of fuel was collected to form a good fire. After some trouble one of the matches was lighted. The men cheered as they saw it blaze up, and bits of paper were produced to catch the welcome flame. In a short time a good fire was burning, at which the shark, cut up in pieces, was placed to cook.

Owen saw the beer barrel broached with considerable uneasiness. However, he could not interfere. All hands obtained a good meal from the roasted shark and some sopped biscuit, which Mr Scoones served out to them. Owen and his companions then set out, and were fortunate enough in finding several casks, cases, and bales of goods; and what was of still greater value, the main topmast, with its spars, rigging and canvas, although apparently in inextricable entanglement. They immediately set to work, however, and, by using their knives, succeeded in dragging up a topsail and topgallant sail.

“This will assist us in forming a tent,” said Owen; “and if we can find another sail or two we may have shelter enough for all hands.”

Two of the men volunteered to tow the heavier articles they had found along the beach, while Owen, with Nat and Mike, dragged the sails to where they had left their companions.

“Shure,” said Mike, “it would be wiser to camp where we are, or maybe, when we get the tent up, Mr Scoones will be afther turnin’ us out.”

“I hope he won’t act so unjustly,” said Owen; “and we must not set the example of selfishness for fear of his doing so.”

The spars they had brought served as a tent pole, and as there were plenty of lengths of small rope, in a short time a tent was put up of sufficient size to accommodate the whole party. As they were all very weary, they gladly lay down to rest, and thus commenced their first night on this truly desert island.

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