CHAPTER III.THE CASTAWAYS.
Afterthese events, there fell out nothing worth remark in many days.
We had favourable winds and calm seas, and met with no King’s ships. What other craft we met withal, meddled not with us, nor we with them. Through great part of the Bay of Biscay we steered our course close under the coast of France, until we came to an anchor in a small bay thereby, to take in water and fresh provisions; thence we sailed away, standing to the open sea. We passed the Cape of Finisterre; and so onwards towards the Tropic of Cancer and the Line.
I come to a day in the fifth week of our voyage. I got up betimes, and went on deck. The ship went merrily along. There was not a sail in sight, nor any glimpse of land; but from horizon to horizon spread the dancing, shining sea, and I thought it was a gracious scene, like a world from the hands of God.
As I looked, I spied a dark blur of a thing far out upon the waters. It disappeared, but soon hove in sight again, this time quite clear. In the same moment, the look-out man bawled:
“Boat adrift on the larboard bow.”
“Lay to, then, and man the jolly-boat,” cried the Captain.
The mariners went eagerly to work, snapping greedily at the exciting chance. The jolly-boat, which was towing astern, was speedily hauled in and manned; but the coxswain was shoved from his wonted command of her by Ouvery, who put himself into the stern-sheets. I, being full of curiosity, jumped into the boat as they made ready to pull away; whereupon Ouvery did look upon me balefully, though he spoke no word, and I knew that he hated me from the bottom of his black heart!
“Pull away,” said the Quartermaster; and she began to move apace. I, keeping my eyes fixed upon the boat we steered for, at length descried a huddled heap on board of her, which was presently discovered to be the forms of two men. We drew alongside, and lay board on board together, gazing upon a dismal, dreadful sight.
For there in the boat were two gaunt and wasted forms—yea, the very death’s heads did grin in the dwindled faces of those poor castaways.
One was an Indian: a tall, well-knit figure dark copper-coloured; his face long and hard-favoured; lank black hair.
The other was an European, and, as it should seem, an Englishman. His yellow beard fell long and untrimmed, and his clothes were mean and old; yet there was that in his look mademe think he was a gentleman. What, however, was remarkable: on sight of the castaways, Ouvery gave a great start and drew sharply in his breath.
“They be dead men both,” said a man, solemnly; “rest to their souls!”
But I had got into the boat; and, taking a mirror that I had about me, I held it in turn to those parted and writhen lips, and lo! it twice became clouded with breath.
“They live! they live!” cried I. But Ouvery said quickly:
“Nay, nay! You know nothing at all. Down, ye meddler, and out of the way!” And to the mariners he said:
“Overboard with them! We’ll have no truck with the dead! And keep your tongue quiet,” said he, glaring at me, “or you shall sweep with them!”
“I say that they live!” I returned passionately. “Carry them to the ship!”
On that, Ouvery raised his clenched fist to strike me down. “You barking cur,” cried he, “do you meddle with my orders? I’ll have you clapt in irons! I’ll flay you to the bone! I’ll——”
“Belike you’re captain of the ship,” said I, flouting him; “I thought my brother was captain.”
Ouvery sat still, all swollen with rage; but hereupon up spoke a seaman, saying stoutly:
“Maybe the boy’s in the right. Ho! make way here!” He climbed over into the cock-boatas he spoke, and soon had confirmed my words.
But Ouvery rose up like one possessed; and, drawing his knife, he reached forth to have stabbed me. But the boat began to rock nigh foundering; and, losing his footing, he fell, knocking his head against an oar that was outboard, and slid over into the sea. They fished him out ere he sank, and flung him like a log in the bottom of the boat, where he lay stunned.
Hereupon, having made the cock-boat fast to our stern, we returned to the ship. My brother stood at the gang-way, awaiting us; I acquainted him with what had befallen, demanding that Ouvery should be restrained. But he regarded me not at all.
They contrived a bed for the Indian in the forecastle, but the other was installed in the master’s cabin beneath the poop, where I slept, some bedding being laid for me on the floor. Tended by Surgeon Burke, and cared for by the mariners, the Indian made a quick recovery; but the other lay as one dead, being fallen into a sort of coma or trance.
The Indian came out of his swoon about sundown. Dick, Burke, and I stood beside his bed, when the poor man, on a sudden, stirred and opened his eyes. He looked from one to another of us wildly; and moved his lips as if he would speak. At this juncture, heavy and uncertain footfalls were heard without, and Ouvery came lumbering in, his face mottled red and purple. He approached; but, on sight ofhim, the Indian stared aghast, stretched forth an arm with a fierce, frenzied gesture, uttered a cry, and sank back beside his senses.
“Why, he knoweth him!” cried I. “He hath seen you before, Ouvery! If he could speak, I warrant you’d stand proclaimed a black villain!”
I was out of myself with passion, and I knew not what I said. But the Quartermaster was transported with fury, and, rasping out horrid oaths, he drew a pistol from his belt and let fly at me. The ball missed my head by a hair’s breadth, and was buried in the wooden wall. Ouvery made a dash towards me, reeled, and lurched forward upon the floor. There he lay stunned, having knocked his head against the table-leg.
The episode had passed in a moment, and Dick and the surgeon stood like men dumbfounded. Burke recovered himself:
“You’ve had a narrow squeak, my lad,” said he. “The man’s a maniac—look you, Captain!”
But Dick dashed his fist against the wall for mad.