“Ah,” replied he, “I shall return as soon as possible, for my flock will get along poorly without me. I have converted many chiefs, who wrangle among themselves, as has also my friend here.”
The skipper turned with a look of disdain at the big-bearded man who appeared to understand the implied interrogation and hastened to answer. “It is true, I have converted many to the Christian faith,” he said, in a low voice, “but I shall not return to the islands of the Pacific, for I think there is a better field nearer home. Not that I believe my labors wasted, for the converted natives never stole anything but ammunition and utensils, while the others stole everything from me they could lay hand to. Not that the effort was entirely vain, I say, but that better work can be done among our own people, such as sailors, for instance.”
“Eh! What’s that?” growled Zachary Green, as he listened to the last part of this sentence. “What do you mean by sailors?” and his eyes flashed ominously.
“Why, go among them, and see that they get the proper books in the libraries sent out on vessels for them to read, for instance.”
“Now, by Gorry! you are talking some sense. Instead of whining around among a lot of good-for-nothing niggers, like your friend here, you’ll really do something if you follow that up. Yes, sir, if you’ll only put something in these libraries besides ‘Two Years before the Mast,’ Bible dictionaries, and the like, and get some police reports nicely bound, along with some yarns like ‘Davy Crockett,’ you’ll be a blessing to sailors, and skippers, too, for that matter. No, sir, don’t play fool with those islanders any further. They were all right before they ever saw a Christian, and they’ve been all wrong ever since. Hang it, you talk like a man of sense, after all, and I hope what I’ve said won’t be lost on you.” And as he finished his peroration he stood up and looked astern.
“Hello!”
Before the astonished missionaries could say a word the skipper started for his glasses, and, seizing them, he looked steadily at a faint trail of smoke which rose above the horizon directly in the vessel’s wake.
“Now, by Gorry! That’s strange,” he muttered. “There’s no steamer bound out to-day, and yet that fellow seems to be standing right after us.”
“Mr. Gantline!” he called, as he turned towards where the mate stood. “Go aloft with the glass and see if you can make out that fellow astern of us.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” answered Gantline. And he took the skipper’s glass and made his way leisurely up the main-ratlines.
From the lower top he could see nothing but a black funnel and masts without yards, so he went higher. On reaching the cross-trees he looked forward, and there, lying prone on their stomachs, were the two hiding men. Their eyes were straining at the vessel astern, and even if Gantline had not already made out who she was, one look at those faces would have told him. He came on deck and returned the skipper’s glasses without a word, and then started forward, but Zachary Green stopped him.
“Could you make her out?” he asked.
“Well, there isn’t much of her rising yet, but I suppose she’s the Blanco Encalada,” he answered.
“Seems to me it is hardly time for her to put to sea,” growled the skipper, “and she’s heading almost the same course as we are. It is generally the way with you, though, after you get ashore on the beach, and it will take a week to soak the liquor out of you so you can see enough to know a downhaul from a clew-line.” And the old man turned back to his passengers.
Before two bells in the first watch that evening it was blowing half a gale to the southward out of a clear sky, and the old bark flew along on her course with everything drawing below and aloft.
There was no sea running, so she heaved over and drove along at a rate that bade fair to keep theBlanco below the horizon for several hours. As it grew late the air became quite chilly, and the skipper went below with his passengers.
The moon rose and shone with great brilliancy, so that our towering main-skysail must have been visible a long distance, while the foam flaked and surged from the vessel’s black hull as white as a mass of liquid silver. All night we drove along with nothing visible astern, and at daylight the hull of the steamer was still below the horizon. At seven bells Zachary Green came on deck.
“Name o’ thunder! What’s he after?” he growled, as he gazed astern. “By Gorry! It is the Blanco, after all, Gantline; but what makes him hold on like this? We are going to the westward of Juan Fernandez, and that is more than a hundred miles out of his course.”
The mate made no answer, but went on with his work overseeing the washing down of the quarter-deck. “It’s just like those Dagoes to go running all over the Southern Ocean for no other purpose than to wear out their gear and burn coal,” continued the skipper. “If this wind keeps slacking up, he ought to be abreast of us before noon, though I never knew this old hooker to send the suds behind her at the rate she’s been doing all night. Breakfast! did you say? Well, steward, just give those sky-pilots a chance to shake off the odor of sanctity they’ve slept in and put on their natural one of hypocrisy and gin-and-bitters. Pshaw! there’s lots lazier men than missionaries in theworld, though I can’t call to mind exactly where I’ve seen them. Mr. Gantline, you may let her head a point more to the north’ard.” Saying this, the skipper took a last look at the approaching steamer and then disappeared down the companion-way.
Although the vessel still raced along at a rate that sent the foam flying from her sharp clipper bows, she was no longer doing her utmost, and the Blanco rose rapidly in her wake with the black smoke pouring from her funnel.
Suddenly, while Gantline was watching her, she appeared to be enveloped in a white cloud of steam. Then there was a sharp, shrieking rush as something tore its way through the air close to the main-top-gallant-yard, and struck the smooth sea almost half a mile ahead, followed by the sullen boom of a heavy rifled gun.
The rush of the shot brought Captain Green on deck, closely followed by his passengers.
“Gorry! what’s the matter?” he bawled, as he rushed to the taffrail, while the younger passenger, who had followed close at his heels, smiled grimly.
The Blanco came driving heavily along a couple of miles astern. She was rapidly drawing up.
“Wants us to heave to, I suppose,” growled Gantline, and he eyed the skipper suspiciously.
“Man alive!” roared Green, “why in the name of thunder don’t you do it, then, before he cuts thespars out of us? Fore-and main-royals, there, quick! Let go by the run. Main-clew-garnets—all hands!” And the skipper bounded onto the poop and cast off everything he could lay hands on.
The bark was soon luffed and her main-yards backed. Then the Blanco came abreast, and all hands had a chance to look into the muzzles of her ten-inch rifles, which were trained towards us. A swarm of men crowded the deck of the ironclad while a boat shot out from her side and approached us rapidly, with a short, thick-set man in uniform sitting in the stern-sheets.
Zachary Green stood at the break of the poop, scowling at him as he swung himself lightly into the mizzen-channels and leaped onto the quarter-deck, followed by six men. Hardly had he done so when the younger of our two passengers drew a heavy revolver from somewhere about his back and fired point-blank at this officer.
The Chilian was in the act of drawing his sword and the hilt was across his breast at that instant. The bullet intended for him struck the hilt and flattened on the brass. The next instant there was a rapid fusillade, the six Chilians firing together, and the passenger with a six-shooting revolver in each hand, backing away behind a cloud of smoke.
It was all over in half a minute. Three of the blue-jackets were dead and their officer badly hurt when the firing ceased. The passenger tossed his empty pistols over the side and staggered aft, and not one of the survivors dared follow him. He gained the after companion-way, and as he did so the figureof the captain’s daughter appeared on deck. I could see her face pale as she caught the look in the passenger’s eyes, but she said no word. He went to her, kissed her lightly, and passed on to the starboard taffrail. The Chilians now recovered themselves and rushed for him. He climbed over with difficulty, but did not hesitate. Then he plunged headlong into the sea before any one could seize him; and as we rushed to the side we could see his body sink slowly down into the green depths until it finally vanished.
The skipper, Gantline, and the big missionary stood looking on in amazement, and then the wounded officer turned towards them.
“That was Señor José Huaticara; of course you did not know.” And he nodded to the skipper. Then the dead were placed in the boat, while a tourniquet was passed around the officer’s leg to stop the flow of blood until he could reach his ship. In a few moments he and his men were on their way back to the Blanco.
Zachary Green stood staring after them without a word. The name of the dead desperado was too well known to him to protest against the manner he was treated while on an American ship, but he desired some explanation.
The Blanco dipped her colors, and he came to his senses. “Hard up the wheel, there!” he bawled. “Stand by the lee-brace!” and the bark paid off again on her course.
The ironclad headed away to the northward andin a few minutes was a couple of miles away on the starboard quarter.
“I met him only a week ago,” explained the big missionary, in answer to the skipper’s look, “and I thought, of course, he was what he claimed to be.”
Zachary Green give a grunt of disgust and went aft.
“Mr. Gantline,” said he, as he met the mate, “are there any more missionaries aboard this ship, for if there are we will put them ashore on Mas-á-Fuera.”
“There are two more,” answered Gantline, looking the skipper in the eyes.
“Show them to me,” said the skipper.
Gantline went forward and looked aloft.
“Come down from there!” he bawled, and two lean figures stood in the foretop and then painfully descended the ratlines before the astonished gaze of the crew.
When they gained the deck they followed the mate aft to Zachary Green, who stared at them in amazement.
“We are off soundings and that fellow has no right to board me,” he said, “but if you belong to that José gang, I’ll signal for him to come back for you.”
“Faith, an’ if we did, Captain Green, it isn’t such a crowd av cutthroats as ye seem to belave,” said McManus. “The fact is we’re just broke away from bein’ shot fer no more than th’ carryin’ av a few Remingtons. I see ye remember me, so for th’ sake av auld times ye better give us a passage to th’States an’ not make Crusoes av us on the Fernandez.”
Zachary Green looked at Gantline.
“It’s the truth,” said the mate.
“Truth be hanged! Who says it’s the truth? I’ll——”
At that moment a slight figure appeared at the companion-way, and the next instant Miss Green seized her father’s arm. He turned roughly, but there was something in the poor girl’s face that made him look to her. She led him below, and the escaped men stood staring after her.
“You fellows can turn to with the men forward,” said Gantline. And they went.
A little later Zachary Green came on deck again and stood looking silently over the bright Pacific. He stood there by the taffrail looking long at the eastern horizon. No one approached or spoke to him, for all knew Captain Green when his mind was full of unpleasant memories.
ABOUT three o’clock in the morning Garnett slid back the hatch-slide and bawled, “Cape Horn, sir!”
Captain Green was asleep, but the news brought him to his feet in an instant, and stopping just long enough to complete his toilet, which consisted of gulping down four fingers of stiff grog, he sprang up the companion-way and was on deck.
It was broad daylight, although the wind had shifted to the northward and brought with it a thick haze which partly obscured the light of the rising sun. Some miles away on the weather-beam rose a rocky hump, showing dimly through the mist; but its peculiar shape, not unlike that of a camel lying down with its head to the westward, told plainly that it was the dreaded Cape. Beyond it lay Tierra del Fuego, now almost invisible, and past it swept the high-rolling seas of the Antarctic Drift.
Captain Green stood blinking and winking in the crisp air of the early morning as Garnett walked up. It was January and daylight twenty hours out of twenty-four, but it was cold and the morning watch was a cheerless one. The old mate came up and pointed to the northward.
“It’s the Cape, I make it, though it don’t show up mighty high. We’ve been holding on like this most of my watch, but it’s been getting a dirty lookto the west’ard,” and as he spoke he leaned over the weather-rail and spat into the foam, which drifted past at the rate of six knots an hour.
“It’s the Cape, right enough,” said Zack Green; “and if we can hold on a few hours longer we ought to weather the Ramirez and get clear. How’s she heading now?”
“Sou’west b’ sought,” answered the man at the wheel.
“Well,” said Green, “there’s almost four points easterly variation here, so that brings her head a little to the s’uth’ard of west b’ south. Let her go up all she will, Mr. Garnett, and call me when we make the Ramirez. I don’t believe much in that drift; it’s all in that big easterly variation. Watch the maint’gallant-sail if it begins to come down sharp from the north’ard,” and as he finished speaking the skipper disappeared down the companion-way.
Garnett sniffed the air hungrily as the odor of stiff grog disappeared also.
“’Tis a pius drink, s’help me, ’tis a pius drink,” he muttered. “Yes, a truly moral beverage, as they would say in the islands; but there’s no use thinking a dog of a mate will get any pleasure in these days of thieving ship-masters.” He walked fore and aft in no pleasant frame of mind, glancing at each turn at the distant loom of the land on the weather-beam.
“How d’ye head?” he bawled to the man at the wheel, in total disregard for the skipper and sleeping passengers.
“Sought b’ west a quarter west, sir,” answered the helmsman.
“Well, what in the name of the great eternal Davy Jones are you running the ship off like that for?”
“She’s touchin’ now, sir, an’ goin’ off all the time.”
“Going to——” but before he could finish the maintop-gallant-sail came aback against the mast.
“For’ard there! clew down the maint’gallant-sail!” he roared, ad he looked sharply to windward, where the giant Cape Horn sea came rolling down through the deepening haze.
“Maint’gallant-sail!” echoed the cry forward, as the men sang out and jumped for the halyards, while some of the watch sprang into the ratlines and made their way aloft.
“Come, bear a hand there! Get that sail rolled up and lay aft to the mizzen-top-sail.”
The vessel was driving along at a comfortable rate in spite of the heavy sea, and it looked as though she might give the grim Cape the slip and go scudding away on the other side of the world. A few hours running to the westward with the wind holding and she would go clear. But the giant sea began rolling down from the northwest, growing heavier, so by the time the maintop-gallant-sail was rolled up and eight bells struck it had the true Cape Horn heave to it.
Mr. Gantline came on deck to relieve the mate, and he soon had the ship dressed down to her lowertopsails. It was not blowing more than an ordinary gale, but the tremendous sea made it dangerous to force the vessel ahead, so she drifted and sagged off to leeward. The “sea-calmer” was rigged forward, and soon the water to windward had an oily look, while the wind, catching up the tops of the combers, hurled a spray down upon the ship that made shroud and backstay, downhaul, and clew-line smell strong of fish-oil, as they cut the wind like bow-strings and hummed in unison until the volume of sound swelled into a deep booming roar.
“Let her come up all she will!” bawled Garnett into Gantline’s ear, as he started to go below. “If she sags off any more you better call the old man, for it looks bad. By the way, Gantline, where’s that bottle of alcohol the old man gave you for varnishing the wheel? I’ve got one of his porous plasters on my chest, and the blooming thing has glued itself to every hair on my body, and I can’t get it adrift.”
“It’s in the right-hand corner of the boson’s locker,” said the mate, with a grin. “But go easy, Garnett. The old man put a spoonful of tartar-emetic into the stuff, ‘for,’ says he, ‘tartar-emetic makes the varnish have a more enduring effect against the weather.’”
“Sink him for a scoundrel!” growled Garnett, his little eyes flashing and beard bristling with rage. “It’s always something he’s doing to make bad feeling aboard ship. Why should he suspect a man of drinking raw spirit, hey?”
“Why, indeed,” said Gantline.
And Garnett went below muttering a string of fierce oaths.
At six o’clock the gale had increased, and the noise of the bawling men struggling with the fore-and mizzentop-sails awakened the skipper, who, fearing all was not well, hastily made his toilet again and appeared at the head of the companion-way.
“How is it now?” he asked of Gantline, who stood near the wheel.
“Gone off two points, and there’s an almighty sea running. I’m shortening her down fast. Whew!”
As he spoke a great hill of water full forty feet high rolled down on the weather-beam. The ship headed it a couple of points and sank slowly into the slanting trough. Then she began to rise to it. The combing crest struck her forward of the main-rigging, and with a roar like Niagara crashed over the top-gallant-rail. It hove her down on her bearings and filled the main-deck waist-deep, while the shock made the skipper and Gantline clutch for support. The next instant Green sprang on to the poop.
“All hands there!” he bawled. “Get that fore-top-sail on the yard!”
Garnett came struggling on deck, muttering something about being afloat in a diving-bell, and was almost washed off his feet by the roaring flood in the waist. In a few moments he was on the foreyard bellowing out orders to the men stowing the topsail.
The uproar and cries of the men startled the twopassengers, Dr. Davis and his wife, who had undertaken the passage at a physician’s advice. The physician, knowing nothing at all about the sea, had unhesitatingly recommended a sea-voyage for the Reverend Dr. Davis as a certain cure for the nervous ailment from which that gentleman suffered. The strain at being face to face with death so often was doing wonders for the minister, and he in turn was doing what he could for the crew. All except Mr. Garnett had profited much by his presence on board, but the mate stubbornly held out against any form of religion.
“Keep the main on her as long as it will hold!” bawled Green. “It looks as if we will catch it sure.” Then, catching a glimpse of Dr. Davis’s face at the companion-way, he added, “I’ll be hanged if I ever overload a ship again and run such risk.”
The minister stepped out on deck.
“Good-morning, doctor; we are having a touch of the Cape this morning,” cried the skipper.
“So it seems; is the Cape in sight?”
“No; but I guess you’ll see it again before we get clear.”
“Mr. Garnett said he thought we would make some northing to-day. He does not believe in so much easterly variation, but says it is the drift that makes it appear so. It seems to me an easy thing to decide.”
“Garnett be hanged!” snorted Green in disgust “He will get into trouble some day with his fool’sideas. Hello! there goes the steward with the hash,” and the skipper dived below, where he was followed by his passenger.
Garnett appeared at the table, but Mrs. Davis kept her bunk, as the plunging ship made it difficult to eat with comfort. No one spoke during the meal, as the crashing noise from the straining bulkheads drowned all sounds save the roar of the elements on deck.
Garnett stopped in the alley-way to light his pipe and get a few whiffs before relieving Gantline. Then he made his way to the poop and stood close to the mizzen, trying to get shelter from the wind and spray, while Gantline went below.
Dr. Davis came on deck and found the second officer trying to smoke, so he joined him.
“It’s harder to be mate with a man like Green than anything I’ve tackled,” said he. “I’ve been to a few places and seen a few men in my day, but most of them would reason things out. There’s no reason in him.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Dr. Davis.
“It’s all about variation now. He’s always trying to work off new-fangled notions on me. When I first began coming around this way the drift was good enough to figure by.”
“But hasn’t it been proved?”
“Proved nothing. How’s a man going to prove he’s steering north when he’s heading nor’west in a three-knot drift with nothing to get a bearing on? I’ll allow there’s some variation in a compass, butnothing like that. Besides, he does other unreasonable things. There’s no reason in him.”
“Well, I suppose it is hard to get along with unreasonable people,” said the minister; “but there are some things we know are true without being able to reason about them. For instance——”
“No, sir,” interrupted Garnett. “There ain’t anything we know about anything unless we can reason it out. You have your ideas and I have mine; that’s all there is to it.”
“Fore-staysail!” bawled the skipper from the wheel, and that piece of canvas was run up, quickly followed by the trysail on the spanker-boom. Dr. Davis, left alone, started aft. He went safely along until he reached the middle of the poop, when a heavy sea struck the vessel and made her heel quickly to leeward. The minister tried to seize the rail, but missed it, and the next instant fell headlong into the seething water alongside.
Garnett was not ten feet distant working at the trysail, and without a moment’s hesitation he seized a downhaul and plunged overboard with the line about him.
The passenger arose with a look of peaceful resignation on his face which contrasted strongly with the old mate’s fierce expression of determination. As the vessel was making no headway against the sea it was less difficult than it appeared to seize the drowning man and give the signal to haul away.
In another minute Garnett was on deck again with Dr. Davis, neither of them much the worse fortheir bath. The cold, however, made it necessary for them to change their clothes.
The gale held on all day, but nothing unusual occurred. At eight bells that evening Dr. Davis had recovered sufficiently to again venture on deck. It was Gantline’s dog-watch, but as there was as much light as there had been during the day, Dr. Davis kept him company.
“Mr. Garnett is a very hard man to convince when he has once set his mind against a thing,” said the minister. “There’s no way of showing him he is wrong when he has made a mistake.”
“That’s true enough, especially if you try to rough him. He’s mad to-day because the skipper found fault with his swearing at the men.”
“He does swear most horribly,” said Dr. Davis.
“It’s nothing to what he used to. He don’t realize he does it at all now.”
“How do you mean?”
“Why, he used to be a most blasphemous old cuss. One day he went ashore at Tinian, and the missionary there asked him to dinner. When he asked Garnett what he would have he sung out, ‘Gimme a bowl of blood, ye tough old ram of the Lord,’ just to shock the good man. The missionary rose and ordered him out of the house, but Garnett wouldn’t go, so he struck him over the head with a dish of fried plantains, he was that mad. Garnett was two days getting over the stroke, for he had been stove down before by a handspike in thehands of a drunken sailor. He always thought the good man had called a curse down upon him, and since then he’s been slow at figures.”
“I see,” said Dr. Davis.
“Yes, it’s a fact, you’ve got to show a thing pretty plain to Garnett before he believes it. As to that missionary, he wasn’t overbright at converting savages.”
“What do you mean? That he wasn’t strong enough physically?”
“No, no, love ye, no; that missionary could take care of himself and not half try. What I mean is downright religious and Christian argument. There was one chief he never could convert. The fellow had an idol, the most uncanny thing I ever saw; sort of half bird, half beast, part fish, and having a strain of dragon. He used to pray to the thing, although he could speak English well enough and had seen plenty of white men. The missionary told him it was wrong to worship anything in an image of things in the heavens above, the earth beneath, or waters under the earth, and the chief took it all kindly. The good man finally gave him up, but the chief never could tell why. Once he offered to bet the missionary two wives against a bottle of rum that there wasn’t anything in the heavens above or earth beneath that resembled the strange thing in any way; and as the good man couldn’t prove it, the matter ended.”
The gale increased as the night wore on, and the vessel lay to on the port tack and drifted off with her head pointing northwest by north, but she wasto the westward of the Ramirez. It was Garnett’s watch and the skipper was below. The ship was driving off to leeward, and the skipper determined to wear ship and stand to the southward again if she was headed off any farther. Garnett had orders to report any change which might take place.
The old mate had a chart in his room with the variation marked on it above the fiftieth parallel, some ten degrees less than where he now was. But even this variation appeared excessive to him, and, as the skipper told him to report if the vessel’s head fell off to the eastward of north, he held on. Figuring on a two-knot drift, he would not be in the vicinity of the rocks during his watch even if she headed as far as north by west, for at noon she had made a good westing.
The ship’s head was to the eastward at four bells, but, as there was really over twenty degrees’ variation, Garnett held on and made sail whenever he could. Long before his watch was out the vessel had been making little leeway and reaching heavily along under lower topsails. At seven bells the wind hauled again to the southward and came harder than ever, carrying the foretop-sail out of the bolt-ropes.
The noise of bawling men brought the skipper on deck, and he had the mizzentop-sail rolled up and the fore-staysail ready for waring ship. While he stood on the poop he looked to leeward. The mist seemed to break into rifts in the dull light of the early morning, and through one he saw anobject that made him catch his breath. In an instant the flying spume closed in again and all was blank.
Garnett came aft, and, although it was cold, he took off his sou’wester and mopped the top of his bald head as he glanced at the skipper. The old man stood petrified gazing into the blank to leeward. Then he turned on the mate with a savage glare in his eye. “Get all hands on that fore-staysail, quick!” he roared, and Garnett went plunging forward, the skipper’s voice following him and rising almost to a shriek,—“Loose the jib and foresail!” Then turning, he dashed for the wheel and rolled it hard up. Back again on the poop he roared to Gantline, who came plunging out on the main-deck to loose the foretop-sail.
The men started to obey orders and sprang to the halyards and braces, looking over their shoulders to leeward at each roll of the ship to find out the cause of the excitement.
Suddenly the flying spume broke again, and there, dead under the lee, lay the outer rocks of the Ramirez not a mile distant. Then some of the crew became panic-stricken, and it was all the mates could do to keep them in hand.
“There’s no land there!” roared Garnett “H’ist away the fore-staysail.”
Then the ship’s head paid off, while the staysail tore to ribbons under the pressure. The topsail was loosened, and it thundered away to bits, almost taking the topmast with it. The jib followed suit,but together they lasted long enough to get her head off before the wind. Then Garnett, casting off the weather-clew of the reefed foresail, hauled it down far enough to keep the wind under it, and away they went. In a few moments her head swung to on the starboard tack, and as they hauled the wind a deep thunderous sound rose above the gale. The trusty maintop-sail was trimmed hard on the backstays, and all hands waited with eyes straining to leeward.
“Will she go clear?” asked Dr. Davis, calmly, as he stood by the skipper’s side on the poop. But Green’s teeth were shut tight, and the muscles of his straining face were as taut as the clews of the storm-topsail. Nearer and nearer sounded that dull, booming thunder, and now, right under her lee, they could see the great white rush of those high-rolling seas that tore over the ledges and crashed into a world of smother that hid everything beyond in a thick haze.
“She’ll go clear,” said Garnett, and he took out his handkerchief and mopped the dent in his bald head.
“But it’s a d—d close shave,” answered Gantline.
As he spoke a great rolling sea rose on the weather-quarter, lifting full forty feet from trough to crest as it began its shoreward rush. On and on it rolled in majestic grandeur, a gigantic, white-topped mass, until it vanished into the thick haze of flying spray, but still bearing more and more to the northward. They went clear.
Dr. Davis was not present at a little conversation held between Mr. Garnett and the skipper some minutes later, but during the mate’s next watch on deck he found a chance to speak to him. He saw him standing under the mizzen watching the main-top-sail, and he crowded close into the mast, wiping his spectacles.
“Well, what do you think of it now?” he asked.
“Nothing,” growled Garnett, “except I made a mistake; and if I’d held on ten minutes there’d have been thirty more men gone to a lower latitude, that’s all.”
“But think of the responsibility. How would you have felt with the lives of thirty men on your conscience? Don’t you see, we have to accept some truths without stopping to reason them out. There may be no reason for that variation, but you see it exists, after all. It is the same way in regard to the duty we owe our Maker, and I am afraid you will acknowledge it only after you have ‘held on too long,’ as you admit in this case. As for a man going to a lower latitude, as you call it, there is no such place. A man’s hell is his own conscience.”
Garnett remained silent for some minutes watching the clews of the maintop-sail, and appeared to be absorbed in deep thought.
“Maybe you’re right about there not being any hell below, and maybe you’re not,” he finally said. “I hope you are right; but I’ve had some experience in my day, and had all kinds of luck, bothgood and bad. It don’t seem probable I’d strike it as rich as that. No, sir, it ain’t probable; though, of course, it’s possible.”
And Dr. Davis left him standing there with a strange, hopeful gleam in his eyes.
THIS rather singular expedition left San Francisco under the direct charge of Professor Frisbow, of the West Coast Museum. While an entirely private affair, its object was to secure specimens of several of the almost extinct species of pelagic fish.
The vessel used for the purpose was a small sealing schooner of about seventy-five tons, and the crew, including the captain and mate, consisted of five able-bodied men. The rest of the party were the professor and myself.
As we were both good sailors, the size of our vessel did not inconvenience us, so that, after fitting up two state-rooms in the cabin, we found, although a little crowded, we were as snug “as weevils in a biscuit”
The wind was blowing almost a gale when we towed out between the heads of the bay, and as it came from the northwest, a stout pea-coat was far from uncomfortable while walking the narrow limits of the quarter-deck.
The setting sun shone red on the rolling hill-side of North Head, where herds of cattle cropped the short grass of the highlands. In the clear atmosphere small objects were visible with strange distinctness. To the southward the jets of spray shooting skyward told plainly of the heavy sea thatfell upon the Seal Rocks. Our skipper shook out the double reef he had in the mainsail and determined to drive his vessel off shore as far as possible while the fair wind held.
It was nearly dark before the tug gave a short whistle for the men forward to cast off the tow-line, and as the last light on the western horizon faded into shadow the head-sheets were flattened and we stood away to the southwest.
Clipperton Isle or Reef lies 10° 17´ north latitude and 109° 10´ west longitude. The distance on a straight course being but little over fifteen hundred miles from our starting-point, but as the northeast trade is very light and unsteady along the coast of the continent, we deemed it wiser to take the regular sailing route to the southward and make our easting afterwards.
The first twenty-four hours out were uncomfortable enough, as the heavy sea caught us fair on the starboard beam and made the stanch little vessel roll horribly. Gradually, however, the wind hauled more to the northward and we made better weather of it. Our Bliss log registered two hundred and fifty-four miles for the first day’s run, and on the fourth day out we picked up the trade in 26° north latitude and headed away due south.
Our reason for selecting this almost unknown spot for our field of operations was owing, principally, to the reports of the captains of two whaling ships who had been consulted in regard to our object, and also, I fear, to the keen desireof my companion, the professor, to explore this curious island.
Fish of several varieties which we desired to procure abounded along the southern coast of California, and the California Gulf swarmed with almost every species of shark except the one we wished for. We had finally decided, however, to stick to deep water, and had procured the schooner for a small amount and the services of Captain Brown, an old whaleman, who had been in the vicinity of the island on several voyages.
During the first week out we had an opportunity to get acquainted with our skipper, who with his mate occupied the starboard side of the after-cabin.
Old Captain Brown was a typical whaling skipper and as crusty an old sailor as one could wish to sail with. He had acquired the true sailor habit of finding fault with everything, and divided his time between making sarcastic personal remarks to the mate and cursing the men.
As for Garnett, the mate, I had sailed before in his company and knew him thoroughly. He had been nearly everything that was bad, and had been in every part of the world. He was fifty-five and over, but he was one of the roughest and toughest specimens of humanity, both morally and physically, I had ever seen. His hairy chest bore a mark where a bullet had passed through, the calf of his right leg was twisted where a bayonet had penetrated, for he had been a soldier, and the index-finger of his left hand was missing. Besides these trifles he hada large dent, nearly half an inch deep, on the top of his bald head, where a sailor had “stove him down” with a handspike. This was the only injury he had received that had ever given him much trouble, and sometimes the pain in his head affected his eyesight.
In spite of his ugly record and many drawbacks I knew him to be the best sailor that ever handled canvas and worth a whole ship’s company in an emergency. Therefore we let the skipper rate him, and while he confined himself to sarcasm and insolence I believed Garnett would not turn rusty.
It was not long before Captain Brown found out the mate’s defect in vision, and at about the same time he was convinced that he was also the greatest liar afloat. After this he used to amuse us by calling out “Ship ahoy!” and gazing steadfastly at a part of the blank horizon. Then, if Garnett was near, he would discuss the ship in detail, and the mate would swear positively, with great emphasis, “My God! but that’s the old Moose,” or some other vessel he had sailed in; and then the skipper would suddenly break off and begin to walk fore and aft with rapid and excited strides. When he would reach the vicinity of Garnett he would look up at the main-top-sail and wish to know, in a loud voice, why in the name of Ananias all the liars were not struck dead. Then he would storm and swear at all people who ever told the truth, and thank heaven he never told the truth when he could possibly help it; all of which noise had about as much effect on Garnett asif he had been pouring water gently into the dent in his oily bald head.
“Aren’t you afraid to curse and call on the Lord so often?” I asked, during one of his fits.
“’Fraid o’ nothin’. Do you suppose the Lord minds my cursing at such a fellow as Garnett? What difference does it make, anyhow? The Lord never yet answered either prayer or curse of mine.”
“Yes,” I replied, “but Garnett might, and then——”
“He might, might he? Now, by all thunder, I guess not. He might as well git it through his head that if there’s any swearing to be done I’ll do it. Yes, sir, I’ll do it, s’help me——” And here he broke off into a string of such expressive profanity, relating to gods, devils, and men, that Frisbow came up from below to listen.
On the morning of the tenth day out we crossed the twelfth parallel, and at noon we hauled our wind and headed straight for the island as located by Sir Edward Belcher.
On the fifteenth day the wind left us in 10° 43´ north latitude and about 113° west longitude, or nearly two hundred and fifty miles westward of the reef. Here we encountered the most trying part of the whole voyage out. For two days the log registered less than a ten-mile run, and the four following less than twenty.
Finally, after ten days of drifting, we sighted the island, one bright morning, almost directly over our knight-heads. As the wind was light, our skipperfeared to approach within less than a mile of the shore, as there was danger of drifting into the breakers. There were hundreds of fathoms of water close in near the beach, and it was useless to think of anchoring, so we hove the vessel to about a mile to leeward.
After setting the shark line the boat was put overboard, and the mate and one man proceeded to pull us to the shore.
On arriving close to the island the surf was found to be too heavy to make a safe landing, and we were compelled to pull around to the entrance of the lagoon on the south side. We landed with little difficulty inside the entrance, and, securing the boat, proceeded to explore the reef.
Lying low in the water, it presented a peculiar and, at the same time, beautiful appearance. No part of it was over ten feet above the sea, and it lay shaped into a most perfect oval. On the outside of the circle the beach was of snow-white coral, which, as it sloped away seaward on the north side, reflected various shades of green and blue through the clear water.
On the south side the sea had just the faintest milky color, showing that there was a slight set to the southward.
We devoted the whole day to exploring the reef, and only returned on board when darkness made the schooner almost invisible.
As we passed through the entrance we made soundings, and found a depth of five or six fathomsnearly all the way across, or enough water for quite a large vessel to pass through. On getting aboard we found that the skipper had caught several desirable specimens for our collection and had sighted a small sperm-whale about a half a mile to windward just before dark. This had stirred his blood, and he had been cursing his luck heartily at our staying ashore in the boat when we might be after big game, for we had several irons and a few tubs of line on board and also a bomb-gun.
After supper we were so worked up by listening to Captain Brown’s whaling yarns that we decided to have a try at the first whale sighted. At daylight the next morning Garnett sung out to the skipper that there was something off the weather-beam. We turned out and found the sea just ruffled by a light air and the sun shining fiercely out of a cloudless sky. On searching the horizon we found nothing visible except the reef, which lay some three miles to the northward.
All of a sudden we noticed a blur of white to the westward, and Frisbow immediately went below for the glasses. Garnett sung out again from forward and pointed at the blur, then, thinking we could not see anything, he came aft to where we stood.
By this time both the skipper and Frisbow had their glasses, and were just in the act of focussing them upon the object when it suddenly vanished.
Captain Brown began to mutter something about people who saw so many strange things, and Garnettremoved his cap to wipe the perspiration from the dent in his head.
“What kind of vessel can it be?” asked Frisbow.
“I’ll be hanged if I know,” I answered.
“Might be the Flying Dutchman,” suggested Garnett, with his usual gravity.
This was too much for the skipper, and he warned Garnett that such jokes were out of place among intelligent men and liable to be followed by disastrous consequences, and then added that “Most people knew a whale when they saw it.” Suddenly the blur appeared again. This time it lasted for over a minute. It was not a “blow,” and I was just about to ask the skipper what he made it out to be when he quickly shoved his glass into my hand and told me to “look quick.”
I did so, and saw that the blur was a great cloud of spray and foam thrown up from the sea. Instantly a large gray object rose from the churned water, then fell again in the thick of it, and I recognized the form of a huge thresher-shark. He appeared to land heavily upon the whale, for that animal, after lashing the sea furiously, sounded, and presently the disturbance subsided.
After breakfast we saw a blow half a mile to windward, and the skipper said it was the same whale we had noticed in the early morning.
We didn’t stop to argue the question, but hauled the whale-boat, that was towing astern, alongside and made haste to get the gear into her.
Leaving the schooner in charge of the three men,all of whom were picked sailors, the rest of us manned the boat and started out. Captain Brown took his place in the bow as harpooner and boat-steerer, while Garnett and the professor pulled bow and stroke oars respectively, leaving me to handle the steering oar.
The sea was almost like glass, and under the skipper’s direction we rapidly approached our game. My heart beat so with excitement that it seemed to choke me as we silently drew head on to the monster, the skipper motioning with his hand which way he wanted me to steer. Then we shipped the oars carefully and took out the paddles for a close throw. All of a sudden he raised the iron and hurled it at the black mass ahead. Garnett and Frisbow backed water as hard as they could, and in an instant there was a tremendous splash as the animal fluked and sounded. The skipper stood by the line, while the professor took up the bomb-gun, determined to have the honor of shooting the beast.
The whale didn’t go down far or stay long below the surface, but when he did come up he came with a rush that took him clear of the water and almost aboard of us. The surging splash he made as he fell alongside nearly swamped us with the sea and sent Frisbow over the thwart into the bottom of the boat, while the lance came near lodging in Garnett’s neck as the gun exploded in the air.
Old Captain Brown stormed and swore, and, calling Garnett to tend the line, he picked up the gun and began loading it himself as I passed him acharge, while Frisbow scrambled to his feet and asked if he had “killed him.”
A hoarse chuckle from Garnett warned him of his mistake, but before any one could answer the skipper passed him the gun again and sprang forward to the line. I looked over the side, and suddenly noticed a dark spot in the clear depths directly beneath us growing rapidly larger. Putting forth all my strength, I swung on the steering oar to slue the boat to one side, and it was just by good luck I managed to do so in time. I heard an exclamation from the skipper, and saw Frisbow standing with the gun ready, when, without an instant’s warning, the great bulk of the whale rose alongside close enough to touch. The professor fired with the muzzle not two feet from the animal’s body, which, as it fell alongside, half filled the boat with water.
Instead of sounding again the whale swam slowly away, towing us after it. Captain Brown started to load the gun, and had just put in the powder charge when the whale slowed up and began blowing rapid jets of crimson spray.
“We’ve got him now,” he said, and laid down the gun to wait for the end.
In about ten minutes the animal was motionless upon the water, and after waiting a little longer we hauled alongside. He was a small sperm-whale, not over thirty feet in length, with about enough blubber to make a “twenty-barrel,” as he was termed by the skipper. We made a line fast to him and then sat and waited for the schooner, thatwas creeping slowly up from leeward with the light breeze. The heat was terrific as we sat there in the open boat, and it was long past noon before the schooner picked us up.
After dinner Frisbow, myself, and two men manned the boat to tow the whale ashore. We worked the schooner in as close as possible to the entrance of the lagoon, and then we had to work into the lagoon in the small boat with a white-ash breeze. We finally landed our prize inside the entrance, and Frisbow turned to work at once to get off the skin. This appeared to be a useless object, but as he was bent upon it there was nothing else to do.
During the whole of the following week he was ashore nearly all the time with one or two men, and sometimes, when the wind was light and we drifted well off, it was nearly midnight before he would get aboard. It was while this work was progressing that the incident occurred which caused all our troubles.
Frisbow and Garnett had both tried to persuade Captain Brown that it was the best and safest place for the schooner inside the lagoon, as there was plenty of water and quite smooth anchorage. The skipper, like a true deep-water sailor, dreaded the proximity of the beach even worse than he did fresh water on his skin, and he was several times made furious at the idea of putting his vessel inside the lagoon.
One day after Garnett and Frisbow had gone ashore, where they had been hard at work at thewhale, I told the skipper that I would look out for the vessel, and he went below and turned in.
The two men left on board were idling about the galley. One of them, the one who acted as cook, sat in the doorway and worked a pan of “duff” which he held between his knees.
The schooner had her mainsail set and hauled flat aft, while her jib was drawn to windward, thus heaving her to in the light air that barely ruffled the surface of the ocean. There was not a cloud in the sky, and only a dull haze tempered the fierce heat of the sun.
I had the wheel lashed hard down and lay at full length on the quarter, trying to keep in the shadow of the mainsail. I smoked a cigar and gazed at the eddies that drifted from the vessel’s side to windward.
After about an hour, when I had smoked my cigar down to a stump, I was aware that the wind had died out entirely and that it was oppressively hot on deck. I lounged aft and leaned over the rail and tried to see if I could distinguish anything moving on the island, but could not, and the distant hum of the surf was the only sound that broke the painful stillness.
Suddenly the hum of the surf seemed to grow louder. I turned to look to the westward, and in an instant saw the ocean whipped to foam along the horizon.
“All hands!” I yelled, and sprang to the peak halyards.
I let them go by the run, and had just cast off the throat when with a rush the white squall struck us just forward of the weather-beam. One of the men let go the jib halyard and tugged at the downhaul and managed to get the sail half down before the full weight of the wind struck us. The mainsail, hanging half way down the mast, thundered away at a great rate until it split from head to leach, while the little schooner lay on her beam ends, letting the water pour in a torrent down the open companion-way.
In less than five minutes it was all over. The wind slacked up as suddenly as it began, and the vessel slowly righted. Captain Brown clambered on deck half drowned from the flooded cabin and helped to get in what was left of the mainsail. We got all the canvas in, but the sea was as calm as before, except for the swell stirred up, and there was not enough wind to fill a topsail.
“White squall, eh?” inquired the skipper as soon as we had the sails secured.
“It was some kind of a squall,” I said; “but there was no warning whatever of its coming.”
“There never is,” he answered, with a sickly grin. “I wonder how much water we’ve got into us. If it had held on five minutes longer we’d have passed in our papers, sure; and, as it was, I am all but drowned. It seemed as if the whole ocean poured into my bunk and held me down.”
We found the cabin half full of water, and it took us all day to get things straightened out below, whilethe men unbent the split mainsail and began to repair it.
When Garnett and the professor came on board that night they were astonished at the damage done, for there had been no sign of wind on the reef.
In the schooner’s hold we found everything in a mess, and all our fishing-gear and lines piled up on the port side in one big tangle. Garnett managed to pick out the bomb-gun and some irons from the pile, and Frisbow, after wiping the gun, had the cook fill it with beef tallow to keep out the rust.
That night we held a council, and, as there were three to one for going inside the reef, the skipper’s objections were finally overruled, and it was decided that we should remain in there until work on the whale was finished. The next morning at sunrise we headed in through the entrance, and by noon were moored snugly enough on the inside.
The work of skinning the whale was soon accomplished, and the skin was staked out, with one or two of the sharks we had captured, and left to the care of the professor.
I did not fancy the work of getting out the animal’s skeleton, as the stench from the body was now unbearable, so I spent my time in procuring specimens of a more attractive sort from the clear waters of the reef.
I had been thus engaged for several days, and was returning to the schooner one evening, when I heard a deep booming sound that seemed to fill the air about me. The ground under me trembled violentlyand it was with difficulty I kept my feet I hurried towards the schooner, and met Frisbow on the beach opposite where she was moored. His face expressed great anxiety, and he asked me if I had felt the earthquake. I replied that I had, and wondered what would happen next. He didn’t answer, but I could see that he was more excited than I had ever seen him before.
When we reached the schooner Garnett was being rated by Captain Brown for having suggested bringing the vessel into such a hole. The skipper had felt the shock, and swore that we would have the accompanying tidal wave in about half an hour, adding that if it caught us in there we were as good as dead men.
It was not quite dark, so without a moment’s delay we made sail and stood for the entrance. There was no wind to speak of, and the skipper, fearing that we might drift into the breakers, had Garnett and the three sailors man the whale-boat and tow us to keep up good headway.
I took the wheel and Captain Brown went forward to direct our movements. We went straight for the middle of the cut, while the sun dipped below the western horizon and the sudden tropic night fell upon the ocean. The moon was a few degrees high in the east, and we knew that there would be plenty of light, anyhow, to steer by, as we kept slowly on.
In a little while we neared the entrance, and it looked as if we would be on the open ocean within half an hour, when all of a sudden I heard a harsh,grinding sound, and the schooner, with a slight jar, became motionless. The skipper came rushing aft and peered over the taffrail, muttering a string of oaths through his set teeth.
“What is it?” I asked, as I left the wheel and rushed to the rail.
He said nothing, but dived below for a lead-line. In a moment he was forward again and flung the lead overboard, but I noticed that the line failed to run out.
“What is it?” I asked again.
He turned his face towards me, and I saw its ghastly expression in the moonlight.
“God knows,” he growled, “but we are hard and fast on the reef, and there isn’t half a fathom of water anywhere ahead of us.” He bawled for Garnett to come on board, and I heard the startled exclamations from the men in the boat as they hauled in the tow-line and came alongside.
In a moment the skipper jumped into the boat with the hand-lead and started off through the entrance.
I could see him making soundings for nearly a quarter of a mile ahead as they glided over the calm moonlit water, and then the boat was put about suddenly, and she came for the schooner. Frisbow and I went to the side.
“We’re in for it now,” said the skipper, with an oath, as he clambered on deck. “The whole bottom seems to have raised up, and there isn’t enough water to float a junk-barrel across the whole cut.”
“Come, bear a hand!” he yelled to Garnett. “Get a line out aft and we’ll see if we can kedge her off; we can’t lay here all night.”
Frisbow looked at me and I at him, but we said nothing. We were caught like a rat in a hole, and the only thing to do was to get the schooner afloat and wait for daylight, when things might not be as bad as they appeared.
There was no time to speculate until we got the schooner off the ledge, so we lent a hand and got the kedge into the boat, and Garnett bent on the tow-line and dropped astern.
In a few minutes he came on board, and all hands tailed onto the line to haul her off. We hauled and tugged, but it was no use, we couldn’t start her. Finally we passed the line forward to the windlass, and after half an hour’s heaving we had the satisfaction of feeling the little vessel slide off into deep water again. There was nothing to do but to go back to our moorings, so, sending the boat ahead again, we towed back and made fast at our old berth, all hands quite worn out with our exertions.
There was no thought of rest, however, for any of us; our case was too bad for that. We were in no immediate danger, but we were cut off from the world as suddenly and as effectually as if we were confined on the moon. Our provisions would last six months with care, but even in that time the chances were against our sighting a vessel in that locality.
As soon as the schooner was safely moored wewent ashore and explored the reef, but there was no apparent change in any part above water. The skipper was beside himself with rage at being caught, and blamed Garnett for the whole affair. Garnett said little and mopped his head frequently with his handkerchief, but I fancied I saw a peculiar gleam in his eye when the captain became more than usually violent.
After spending the whole night trying to work out some solution of our difficulty, we came to the conclusion that the only way was to strip the vessel, heel her over on her bilge, and force her through the entrance.
We discussed every possible method of lightening her, and the skipper finally thought that by taking everything out of her except her masts we might get across the reef with what little current there would be to favor us.
As soon as it was daylight we started for the entrance to examine it carefully and find the deepest water. The air was hot and still, and the water of the lagoon had a greasy look.
The first thing that attracted our attention was a large, dark object that rose on the reef where yesterday there had been nearly fifty feet of water. All eyes were directed to it as it lay there like a huge mass of coral weed with great festoons hanging from its sides.
Suddenly the skipper sprang to his feet “My God, it’s a ship!” he cried.
All hands stopped rowing and turned in their seats,when Garnett, who was steering, bawled out to “Give way together!” and we headed straight for it.
As we approached, we saw that it was the hull of a large ship lying on its bilge, but so covered with marine growths that its outline could hardly be traced in the great mass. It lay well out, and the wash of the surf broke against the stern; this is the reason we didn’t notice it during the night. There were three or four feet of water around it, so we forced the boat through the floating weed until we were alongside.
Garnett clambered to the deck amidships closely followed by Frisbow and myself. We made our way aft aloft along the slippery incline by clinging to the weed that covered everything, and reached a large hole that had evidently been the entrance to the cabin. The whole design of the ship was strange and different from any modern vessel I had ever seen. We peered down the opening, but could see nothing inside except various-colored marine growths.
The professor was for going below instantly, but Garnett held back and contented himself with examining the steering-gear, where he was joined by the skipper.
Frisbow let himself down the opening and I, feeling ashamed to let him go alone, let myself down after him.
The cabin was dark inside, for the windows were covered with weed, but I could make out the form of the professor as he groped his way along the slippery floor into the darkness forward.
After going a short distance into what appeared to be a large saloon the grass seemed to grow thinner and I stood up and looked about me. As I did so my head came in sharp contact with a curious brass lamp which hung suspended from one of the deck-beams. My exclamation caused Frisbow to join me, and together we examined the strange fittings about us.
A table and some chairs, which were fastened to the floor, still held their shapes although covered with grass and slime, and from the strange carving on their legs, which was still visible in places, the professor pronounced them to be Spanish.
A little farther on we came to a bulkhead with two doors, which were open and led into an inky black space beyond. The professor struck a match, and we saw that both doors had short companion-ways leading to a cabin on the berth-deck and that the ladders were sound although covered with slime. The match went out, but Frisbow instantly struck another and started down. We reached the floor of a small cabin, which had two doors on each side and which was quite free from the heavy sea-growth we had encountered above. There was a table in the centre and the frames of several heavy chairs, while from above hung a large brass lamp covered with verdigris and similar in pattern to the one I had encountered with my head.
Striking another match, we entered the first door to the right. There was nothing in it but a large wooden chest, which lay open and contained apulpy and slimy mass. In a bunk was the same material, while on the bulkheads were green brass rods which had evidently held some sort of drapery that had long ago succumbed to the action of sea-water. In the other rooms we found several old matchlock guns almost entirely rust and also half a dozen long straight swords. On a shelf was a tinder-box of brass with the flint as good as new, but the steel was a brown lump. There were a number of rusty knives and several brass frames, together with a lot of glassware and crockery. Some of this rubbish crunched sharply underfoot in the ooze, but everything else not of wood or iron had decayed beyond recognition.
The professor was down to his last match when we came across a small chest in the last room. It was of iron but not heavy, so I took it under my arm as we made for the companion-way.
It gave me a nervous feeling to be down in the black, slimy hold of that lost ship, and I was rather glad to start for the deck again. Before we reached the ladder the professor’s last match was out, and we groped our way aft as best we could, encumbered with all the spoils we could carry.
The silence and darkness made me hasten my steps, when just before I reached the ladder a terrific yell echoed through the blackness, causing me to drop everything and start with a sudden terror. Then in a moment the skipper’s hoarse voice bawled down to us from the door above, wanting to know if we intended to remain aboardall the morning. The old sword I had was too rusty to be of any use, otherwise I think I should have run him through the body; so, cursing him loudly for his impatience, to the professor’s great amusement, I picked up my things and mounted the ladder.
On reaching the deck we found Garnett had discovered a brass gun lying on the port side of the ship, and he was busy spinning a yarn to the men in the boat, when the skipper bawled out for them to lend a hand to get our stuff aboard. We placed the iron box in the stern and, jumping in, started to examine the cut for a channel to get to sea.
We had only been on the wreck a few minutes, but we had no desire to remain any longer until we found a way out of the lagoon.
After sounding all the morning we found the depth pretty much the same all the way across, and we now noticed that the whole reef appeared much higher on the south side than before. The part above high-water also showed many seams and fissures that we had not seen there when we first examined it.
About noon we headed for the schooner, feeling anxious and depressed. Frisbow was more sanguine than the rest of us about lighting the schooner and forcing her across the barrier, but I knew it would be a desperate undertaking when we struck the breakers, that now rolled clear across the entrance.
When we reached the schooner we pried off the lid of the iron box and found a mass of discoloredpulp, at the bottom of which was a brass plate with the word Isabella cut upon it in large characters.
We were so tired out with our exertions that as soon as we had something to eat all hands turned in for a short rest before beginning to unload everything on the beach. This appeared to be the only way out of the difficulty, and the skipper’s anxiety increased at every delay.
In the afternoon we began to get the gear out of the hold, and soon had the deck covered with stuff of all kinds to be sent ashore. As we had to break out some of our provisions, we closed the hatchway that evening on account of the heavy dew that fell at night.
After supper we started to load the boat, but as the men were tired they worked slowly. Garnett was growing ugly under the continual nagging by the skipper, and once Frisbow started to remonstrate with the captain for directing his abuse against the mate. This only had the effect of precipitating matters, and Garnett, who was passing some of the gear into the boat alongside, threw down the coil of rope he had in his hand and swore a great oath that he would not do another stroke of work until the skipper “mended his jaw tackle.”
This drove the old man into a frenzy, and before we could stop him he grabbed a harpoon and poised it to hurl at the mate.
“You mutinous scoundrel,” he yelled, “I’ll show you who’s captain of this craft!” Quick as thoughthe threw the iron, and I believed Garnett’s end had come.
Quicker still did the old sailor spring to one side, and, grabbing the bomb-gun, let drive at the skipper’s head, while the harpoon drove clear through the port bulwarks and hung there. The recoil of the gun sent Garnett staggering backward, while the captain, throwing up his hands, fell like a log across the hatchway. Frisbow and I stood horror-stricken for an instant and then we rushed to the captain’s side. I expected to find half of his head torn off by the shell, but, although his face was black with powder and the blood oozed from his mouth, he appeared to have no wound whatever.
We carried him aft and laid him out in his bunk, Garnett lending a hand as if nothing had happened between them. Then the professor went for the medicine-chest.
After washing blood, grease, and powder from the old man’s bruised face and applying a little spirits between his swelling lips, he suddenly opened his eyes and saw Garnett standing close by. He made a quick movement as though to rise, but Frisbow held him down. Then seeing we had mistaken the motive, he smiled a ghastly smile and held out his hand in the direction of the mate.