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The Ocean Cat's Paw: The Story of a Strange Cruise, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 25. Oh, Murther! |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. OH, MURTHER! Rodd was early on deck next morning for his bath, which consisted of so many buckets of water fresh fished up and dashed upon him by the men as a makeshift, consequent upon Captain Chubb telling him that he could not have any swims on account of the sharks. "Can't spare you, my lad," he had said. "But I haven't seen a shark," grumbled Rodd. "No, my lad, but they would very soon see you. You never know where those gentlemen are." So Rodd went on deck when sea and sky looked dim and a faint mist lay low upon the surface of the ocean, making everything indistinct. "She's gone, sir; she's gone!" "Who's she, and where has she gone?" said Rodd, rather sleepily. "The _Diadem_, sir." "What, the sloop of war? Not she! You will see her come peeping out of the fog yonder before long." "Nay, sir; she's gone right off, and it's all right. My word, I wish we had got a fiddle here!" "A fiddle! What for?" "Hornpipe, sir. The boys are all bubbling over and don't know how to bear themselves. Nothing like a few kicks up and down the deck to a well-played old tune, to get rid of it all." "Why, what are you talking about?" cried Rodd. "Talking about, sir? Ah, you never knowed what it was to be a sailor, and when you are free never knowing for a moment how soon you may be pressed. Why, I don't believe there was a man Jack on us as slept a wink last night with thinking about this morning." "What, for fear you would be pressed, after what uncle said?" "Ay, ay, sir. Your uncle meant right enough, and he believed what he said, and that there lieutenant was civil enough; but a second lieutenant aren't a first lieutenant, sir, and a first lieutenant aren't a post-captain. We all talked a bit last night, and put that and that together, and Isaac Gregg, who aren't a very wise chap--you see, sir, he's got too much fat about him to leave room for anything else--but he said something smart last night. 'Yes,' he says, 'my lads, that all sounds right enough, but suppose when that boat got back the captain says, Yes, he says, it's all very well, and I dare say that there gent got leave from Government to man his schooner and come down here bottling sea-leeches and other insects of that kind; but I am short of men for the King's ship, and that's more consequence than what he's doing of. So you just start back at daybreak in the boat with my compliments to Dr Robson, saying I'm very sorry, but he must please hand over six of the best lads he's got.'" "Oh, nonsense, Joe! The captain would be too much of a gentleman." "Being a gentleman, sir, is being a gentleman, but duty's duty, and officers and sailors have to give up everything to that. Last night, whether we was on the watch, or turned in to our hot bunks, every man Jack of us felt that the Bun was right, and a bit envious of him, because, poor chap, he would have been safe. They wouldn't have took him; but we all of us fully expected to see that boat coming back for us this morning. But not only aren't there no boat, but the sloop's slipped away in the night and gone." "Where's she gone, then?" "Well, that's what we don't know, sir, and we don't care." "But are you sure, Joe? She may be lying off yonder in the mist." "Oh no, she aren't, sir. Two on us have been up right aloft till we could lay our hands on the main truck; and when you are up there you are looking right over the fog. It's wonderful how close it lies to the water. It's all right, sir, and I believe we are safe. Aren't you glad?" "Of course I am, Joe." "I know you are, sir. But just you think what we must be, just about five hundred times as glad as you are, and we are all ready for anything you like. What's it to be to-day?" "Well, I don't think we shall do much. Uncle will consider it too hot." "Hot, sir? Not it! Just right. We shan't mind. Fishing, netting, rowing. You tell him not to think about us. It will just warm us up, for most on us had the shivers all night." The low mist began to lift soon after Rodd had had his bath, for the level rays of the sun began to pierce the grey haze as the great orange orb slowly rolled up from the depths of ocean, investing it with the loveliest of pearly tints and iridescent hues, while not a speck of sail or the clearly marked lines of topmasts could be seen upon the horizon line. "Well," said the doctor, at breakfast, as Rodd told him what the men had said, "the heat will be very great, but I shouldn't spare myself. If I gave up my researches to-day it would be for the sake of the men." "You needn't consider them that way, sir," said Captain Chubb. "They would rather you didn't. But couldn't you do something that would spare my deck a little?" "Well, I am afraid that's impossible, Captain Chubb," said the doctor. "Ah, well, sir," said the captain, with a sigh, "I suppose you must go on; but it seems a pity when everything's so white and clean." So the captain's decks suffered all day, and were swabbed clean again, while that evening before the mists began to gather there was a fresh surprise. Rodd took it into his head to go up to the main cross-trees with the glass. He had said nothing, but he had some idea as to the possibility of the sloop coming into sight again, and he had made up his mind if he could see her in the distance to give Captain Chubb a broad hint, and urge him to press on full sail right through the night. It was very glorious, Rodd thought, as he perched himself up aloft on the cross-trees, after finding the heavy glass very much in his way as he climbed. "It's beautiful up here; but--" He did not finish his remark to himself, but got his left arm well round the mast, adjusted the glass, and began slowly to sweep the horizon. He felt in a state of doubt and suspicion, fully expecting that at any moment the tapering masts of the sloop might slowly creep into the field ready to damp his hopes, for his feelings were completely on the side of the men. But as slowly and carefully he ran the glass along what seemed to be the very edge of the world, his spirits rose. "Nothing--nothing," he kept on muttering to himself. "Oh, how big the world is, after all! Here we are, just like a speck on the ocean, quite alone, and though there must be thousands of ships and boats sailing about, not one in sight, and in about another ten minutes all will be bright starlight again--and let's see, I began here, and I've swept the sea right round, and just in time, for before I could go round again or half-way it will be quite dark--and--What's that?" he cried excitedly. He started violently, and his hands trembled so that he had great difficulty in steadying the glass to fix it upon that which had suddenly caught his eye. "Nothing!" he muttered impatiently. "It was my fancy. I made as sure as possible, just as I was going to lower the glass, that I could see the three masts of the sloop standing right out yonder towards the west. All rubbish and imagination," he muttered. "I pictured that because it was what I was afraid of seeing when--Oh-h-h! It wasn't fancy! There she is! Oh, there she is, after all!" He looked sharply down at the deck, which was occupied only by four of the men, the skipper and Uncle Paul being in the cabin. But one of these men was Joe Cross, and Rodd chirruped faintly to attract's the sailor's attention. "Make out anything, sir?" "Come up here, Joe," replied Rodd, in a low tone, and the man sprang to the ratlines and began rapidly to ascend till he was nearly on a level with the occupant of the cross-trees. "See a whale spouting, sir? I should have thought it was getting too dark." "No, Joe; but I have just made out the sloop with the glass." "Nay, sir! Don't say that!" cried the man, in a startled tone. "Take the glass, Joe. I am afraid it's true." "Oh, murther! as Pat says," groaned the sailor, as he hurriedly adjusted the glass and began to sweep the horizon in the direction Rodd pointed out, a few points on the starboard bow. "Can't see nothing, sir. Were you sure?" "Yes, Joe; quite." "But it's getting dark too fast, sir. I can make nothing out. If you are right, though, she mayn't have seen us and may be out of sight again by morning.--Ah, I've got her!" "There, I knew I was right, Joe." "Not quite, sir. Yes, I've got her quite plain now, but she's dying out fast. It aren't a man-of-war. It's a two-master of some kind. A big schooner or a brig. It's all right, sir. There's life in a mussel, after all. My word, though, didn't it bring my heart up into my mouth!" "Are you sure it's not a three-master, Joe?" cried Rodd joyously. "Sartin sure, sir. Why, you talk as frightened like as we poor lads were." "What vessel was it, then?" "Oh, I don't know what she was, sir. I only know what she warn't. That's enough for us, eh, sir? I say, sir; what weather! Rather different to what we had in the French port. Looks settled too. Nice and cool the air feels. There, it's only fancy, but it's just as if I could sniff the land." "How far are we away, Joe?" asked Rodd. "Long way, sir. But I say, Mr Rodd, sir, I wouldn't say anything down below. It'd only skeer the lads and set them thinking all night." "But wouldn't you say anything about having seen that ship?" "Oh, if you like, sir. The skipper ought to know. But I can swear she warn't a man-of-war, and that's enough for us. Oh, there is the skipper. My word, though, you can hardly see him! Curus, isn't it, how the mist begins to gather? Pretty good sign we are not so very far off the shore. Will you hail him, sir, or shall I?" "You, Joe." A brief conversation ensued, question and answer ending by Joe's declaration that he believed it was a brig; and then they descended to the deck. _ |
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