The Ocean Waifs: A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea

It was now to be seen how she would behave under a gale that might end in a storm, – perhaps a terrific tempest.

It would be untrue to say that her crew looked forward to the event without fear. They did not. As said, they suffered considerable apprehension; and would have felt it more keenly, but for the cheering influence of that faith with which her captain was sustained, and which he endeavoured to impart to his companions.

Leaning upon this, they looked with less dread upon the sky lowering above and the storm gathering around them.

As the day advanced the wind continued to freshen until about the hour of noon. It was then blowing a brisk gale. Fortunately for the crew of the Catamaran, it did not become a storm. Had it done so their frail craft must have been shivered, and her component parts once more scattered over the ocean.

It was just as much as her crew could accomplish to keep them together, in a sea only moderately rough, – compared with what it would have been in a storm. This they discovered during the afternoon of that day; and it was no great comfort to them to reflect that, in the event of a real storm being encountered, the Catamaran would undoubtedly go to pieces. They could only console themselves with the hope that such an event might not arise until they should reach land, or, which was perhaps more probable, be picked up by a ship.

The chances of terminating their perilous voyage in either way were so slight and distant, that they scarce gave thought to them. When they did, it was only to be reminded of the extreme hopelessness of their situation, and yield to despairing reflections. On that particular day they had no time to speculate upon such remote probabilities as the ultimate ending of their voyage. They found occupation enough, – both for their minds and bodies, – in insuring its continuance. Not only had they to watch every wave as it came rolling upon them, – and keep the Catamaran trimly set to receive it, – but they had to look to the timbers of the craft, and see that the lashings did not get loose.

Several times did the sea break quite over them; and but that Lilly Lalee and little William were fast tied to the foot of the mast, they would both have been washed off, and probably lost amidst the dark waste of waters.

It was just as much as the two strong men could do to keep aboard and even they had ropes knotted round their wrists and attached to the timbers of the raft, – in case of their getting carried overboard.

Once a huge billow swept over, submerging them several feet under the sea. At this crisis all four thought that their last hour had come, and for some seconds were under the belief that they were going to the bottom, and would never more look upon the light of day.

But for the peculiar construction of their raft this, in all likelihood, would have been the result; but those buoyant water-casks were not to be “drowned” in such a fashion and soon “bobbed” back to the surface, once more bringing the Catamaran and her crew above water.

It was fortunate for them that Ben Brace and Snowball had not trusted too much to fate while constructing their abnormal craft. The experienced sailor had foreseen the difficulties that on this day beset them; and, instead of making a mere temporary embarkation, to suit the conditions of the summer sea that then surrounded them, he had spared no pains to render it seaworthy as far as circumstances would allow. He and Snowball had used their united strength in drawing tight the cords with which the timbers were bound together, – as well as those that lashed them to the casks, – and their united skill in disposing the rude materials in a proper manner.

Even after “launching” the Catamaran, – every day, almost every hour, had they been doing something to improve her, – either by giving the craft greater strength and compactness, or in some other way rendering her more worthy both of the sea and her sailors.

By this providential industry they were now profiting: since by it, and it alone, were they enabled to “ride out” the gale.

Had they trusted to chance and given way to indolence, – all the more natural under the very hopelessness of their situation, – they would never have outlived that day. The Catamaran might not have gone to the bottom, but she would have gone to pieces; and it is not likely that any of her crew would have survived the catastrophe.

As it was, both raft and crew weathered the gale in safety. Before sunset the wind had fallen to a gentle zephyr; the tropical sea was gradually returning to its normal state of comparative calm; and the Catamaran, with her broad sail once more spread to the breeze, was scudding on, – guided in her course by the golden luminary slowly descending towards the western edge of a cloudless heaven.

Chapter Eighty Nine.

A Startling Shriek

The night proved pleasanter than the day. The wind was no longer an enemy; and the breeze that succeeded was more advantageous than would have been a dead calm; since it steadied the craft amidst the rolling of the swell.

Before midnight the swell itself had subsided. It had never reached any great height, as the gale had been of short continuance; and for the same reason it had suddenly gone down again.

With the return of smooth water they were able to betake themselves to rest. They needed it, after such a series of fatigues and fears; and having swallowed a few morsels of their unpalatable food, and washed it down by a cup of diluted Canary, they all went to rest.

Neither the wet planking on which they were compelled to encouch themselves, nor the sea-soaked garments clinging round their bodies, hindered them from obtaining sleep.

In a colder clime their condition would have been sufficiently comfortless; but in the ocean atmosphere of the torrid zone the night hours are warm enough to render “wet sheets” not only endurable, but at times even pleasant.

I have said that all of them went to sleep. It was not their usual custom to do so. On other nights one was always upon the watch, – either the captain himself, the ex-cook, or the boy. Of course Lilly Lalee enjoyed immunity from this kind of duty: since she was not, properly speaking, one of the “crew,” but only a “passenger.”

Their customary night-watch had a twofold object: to hold the Catamaran to her course, and to keep a lookout over the sea, – the latter having reference to the chance if seeing a sail.

On this particular night their vigil, – had it been kept, – might have had a threefold purpose: for it is not to be forgotten that they were still not so very far from their late pursuers. They too must have been making way with the wind.

Neither had the Catamarans forgotten it; but even with this thought before their minds, they were unable to resist the fascinations of Morpheus; and leaving the craft to take her own course, the ships, if there were any, to sail silently by, and the big raft, if chance so directed it, to overtake them, they yielded themselves to unconscious slumber.

Simultaneously were they awakened, and by a sound that might have awakened the dead. It was a shriek that came pealing over the surface of the ocean, – as unearthly in its intonation as if only the ocean itself could have produced it! It was short, sharp, quick, and clear; and so loud as to startle even Snowball from his torpidity.

The Coromantee was the first to inquire into its character.

“Wha’ de debbil am dat?” he asked, rubbing his ears to make sure that he was not labouring under a delusion.

“Shiver my timbers if I can tell!” rejoined the sailor, equally puzzled by what he had heard.

“Dat soun’ berry like da voice o’ some un go drown, – berry like. Wha’ say you, Massa Brace?”

“It was a good bit like the voice of a man cut in two by a shark. That’s what it minded me of.”

“By golly! you speak de troof. It wa jess like that, – jess like the lass s’riek ob Massa Grow.”

“And yet,” continued the sailor, after a moment’s reflection, “’t warn’t like that neyther. ’T warn’t human, nohow: leastwise, I niver heerd such come out o’ a human throat.”

“A don’t blieb de big raff can be near. We hab been runnin’ down de wind ebba since you knock off dat boat-hook. We got de start o’ de Pandoras; an’ dar’s no mistake but we hab kep de distance. Dat s’riek no come from dem.”

“Look yonder!” cried little William, interrupting the dialogue. “I see something.”

“Whereaway? What like be it?” inquired the sailor.

“Yonder!” answered the lad, pointing over the starboard bow of the Catamaran; “about three cables’ length out in the water. It’s a black lump; it looks like a boat.”

“A boat! Shiver my timbers if thee bean’t right, lad. I see it now. It do look somethin’ as you say. But what ul a boat be doin’ here, – out in the middle o’ the Atlantic?”

“Dat am a boat,” interposed Snowball. “Fo’ sartin it am.”

“It must be,” said the sailor, after more carefully scrutinising it. “It is! I see its shape better now. There’s some un in it. I see only one; ah, he be standin’ up in the middle o’ it, like a mast. It be a man though; an’ I dare say the same as gi’ed that shout, if he be a human; though, sartin, there warn’t much human in it.”

As if to confirm the sailor’s last assertion, the shriek was repeated, precisely as it had been uttered before; though now, entering ears that were awake, it produced a somewhat different impression.

The voice was evidently that of a man. Even under the circumstances, it could be nothing else, but of a man who had taken leave of his senses. It was the wild cry of a maniac!

The crew of the Catamaran might have continued in doubt as to this had they been treated only to a repetition of the shriek; but this was followed by a series of speeches, – incoherent, it is true, but spoken in an intelligible tongue, and ending in a peal of laughter such as might be heard echoing along the corridors of a lunatic asylum!

One and all of them stood looking and listening.

It was a moonless night, and had been a dark one; but it was now close upon morning. Already had the aurora tinged the horizon with roseate hues. The grey light of dawn was beginning to scatter its soft rays over the surface of the ocean; and objects – had there been any – could be distinguished at a considerable distance.

Certainly there was an object, – a thing of boat-shape, with a human form standing near its middle. It was a boat, a man in it; and, from the exclamation and laughter to which they had listened, there could be no doubt about the man being mad.

Mad or sane, why should they shun him? There were two strong men on the raft, who need not fear to encounter a lunatic under any circumstances, – even in the midst of the ocean. Nor did they fear it; for as soon as they became fully convinced that they saw a boat with a man in it, they “ported” the helm of the Catamaran, and stood directly towards it.

Less than ten minutes’ sailing in the altered course brought them within fair view of the object that had caused them to deviate; and, after scrutinising it, less than ten seconds enabled them to satisfy their minds as to the strange craft and its yet stranger occupant.

They saw before them the “gig” of the slaver; and, standing “midships” in the boat, – just half-way between stem and stern, – they saw the captain of that ill-starred, ill-fated vessel!

Chapter Ninety.

A Madman in mid-Ocean

In the minds of the Catamaran’s crew there was no longer any cause for conjecture. The boat-shaped object on the water, and the human form standing up within it, were mysteries no more; nor was there any when that boat and that human being were identified.

If in the spectacle there was aught still to puzzle them, it was the seeing only one man in the boat instead of six.

There should have been six; since that was the number that the gig had originally carried away from the burning bark, – five others besides the one now seen, – and who, notwithstanding a great change in his appearance, was still recognisable as the slaver’s captain.

Where were the missing men, – the mates, the carpenter and two common sailors, who had escaped along with him? Were they in the boat, lying down, and so concealed from the view of those upon the Catamaran? Or had they succumbed to some fearful fate, leaving only that solitary survivor?

The gig sat high in the water. Those upon the Catamaran could not see over its gunwale unless by approaching nearer, and this they hesitated to do.

Indeed, on identifying the boat and the individual standing in it, they had suddenly hauled down the sail and were lying to, using their oar to keep them from drifting any nearer.

They had done so from an instinctive apprehension. They knew that the men who had gone off in the gig were not a whit better than those upon the big raft; for the officers of the slaver, in point of ruffianism, were upon a par with their crew. With this knowledge, it was a question for consideration whether the Catamarans would be safe in approaching the boat. If the six were still in it, and out of food and water, like those on the large raft, they would undoubtedly despoil the Catamaran, just as the others had designed doing. From such as they no mercy need be expected; and as it was not likely any succour could be obtained from them, it would, perhaps, be better, in every way, to “give them a wide berth.”

Such were the thoughts that passed hastily through the mind of Ben Brace, and were communicated to his companions.

Were the five missing men still aboard the boat?

They might be lying down along the bottom, – though it was not likely they could be asleep? That appeared almost impossible, considering the shouts and screams which the captain at intervals still continued to send forth.

“By de great gorramity!” muttered Snowball, “a doan’t b’lieb one ob dem’s leff ’board dat boat, ’ceptin de ole ’kipper himseff; an ob him dar am nuffin leff cep’n de body. Dat man’s intlek am clar gone. He am ravin’ mad!”

“You’re right, Snowy,” assented the sailor; “there be ne’er a one there but himself. At all events they ain’t all there. I can tell by the way the gig sits up out o’ the water. No boat o’ her size, wi’ six men aboard, could have her gunnel as high as that ere. No! If there be any besides the captain, there’s only one or two. We needn’t fear to go as nigh as we like. Let’s put about, an’ board the craft, anyhow. What say ye?”

“Haben’t de leas’ objecshun, Massa Brace, so long you link dar no fear. Dis chile ready take de chance. If dar be any odder cep’n de ’kipper, it no like dey am ’trong ’nuff to bully we nohow. De two ob us be equal match fo’ any four ob dem, – say nuffin ob lilly Will’m.”

“I feel a’most sartin,” rejoined the sailor, still undecided, “there be only him. If that’s the case, our best way is to close up, and take possession o’ the boat. We may have some trouble wi’ him if be’s gone mad; an’ from the way he be runnin’ on, it do look like it. Never mind! I dare say we’ll be able to manage him. Port about, an’ let a see the thing through.”

Snowball was at the steering-oar, and, thus commanded by her captain, he once more headed the Catamaran in the direction of the drifting boat, – while the sailor and William betook them to the oars.

Whether the occupant of the gig had yet perceived the raft was not certain. It is likely he had not, since the yells and incoherent speeches to which he had been giving utterance appeared to be addressed to no one, but were more like – what they believed them to be – the wild ravings of a lunatic.

It was still only the grey twilight of morning, with a slight fog upon the water; and although through this the Catamarans had recognised the gig and captain of the Pandora they had done so with certain souvenirs to guide them. Both the boat and its occupant had been seen only indistinctly: and it was possible that the latter had not seen them, and was still unsuspicious of their presence.

As they drew nearer, the light at each moment increasing in brightness, there was no longer any uncertainty as to their being seen; for, along with the yells uttered by the occupant of the gig, could be heard the significant speeches of, “Sail ho! Ship ahoy! What ship’s that? Heave to, and be – Heave to, you infernal lubbers! if you don’t I’ll sink you!”

The manner in which these varied phrases were jumbled together, intermingled with screeching exclamations, as well as the excited and grotesque gestures that accompanied them, might have been ludicrous, but for the painful impression it produced.

There was no longer any doubt in the minds of those who witnessed his behaviour, that the ex-skipper of the Pandora was mad. None but a madman would have spoken, or acted, as he was doing.

In the state he was in, it would be dangerous to go near him. This was evident to the occupants of the raft; and when they had arrived within a half-cable’s length of the boat, they suspended the stroke of the oars, – with the intention of entering upon a parley, and seeing how far their words might tranquillise him.

“Captain!” cried the sailor, hailing his former commander in a friendly tone of voice: “it’s me! Don’t you know me? It’s Ben Brace, one o’ the old Pandora. We’ve been on this bit o’ raft ever since the burnin’ o’ the bark. Myself and Snowball – ”

At this moment the sailor’s epitomised narrative was interrupted by a fiendish yell, proceeding from the throat of the maniac. They were now near enough to have a clear view of his face, and could note the expression of his features. The play of these, and the wild rolling of his eyes, confirmed them in their belief as to his insanity. There could be no doubt about it; but if there had, what soon after succeeded was proof sufficient to satisfy them.

During the continuance of the discourse addressed to him by the sailor, he had kept silent, until the word “Snowball” fell upon his ears. Then all at once he became terribly excited, – as was testified by a terrible shriek, a twitching contortion of his features, and a glaring in his eyes that was awful to behold.

“Snowball!” screamed he; “Snowball, you say, do you? Snowball, the infernal dog! Show him to me! Ach! Blood and furies! it was he that fired my ship. Where is he? Let me at him! Let me lay my hands upon his black throat! I’ll teach the sneaking nigger how to carry a candle that’ll light him into the next world. Snowball! Where, – where is he?”

At this moment his rolling orbs became suddenly steadied; and all could see that his gaze was fixed upon the Coromantee with a sort of desperate identification.

Snowball might have quailed under that glance, had there been time for him to take heed of it. But there was not: for upon the instant it was given the madman uttered another wild screech, and, rising into the air, sprang several feet over the gunwale of the gig.

For a second or two he was lost to sight under the water. Then, rising to the surface, he was seen swimming with vigorous sweep towards the Catamaran.

Chapter Ninety One.

The insane Swimmer

A dozen strokes would have carried him up to the craft; which they could not have hindered him from boarding, except by using some deadly violence. To avoid this, the oars were plied; and the raft rapidly pulled in a contrary direction.

For all this, so swiftly did the maniac make way through the water, that it was just as much as they could do to keep the Catamaran clear of his grasp; and it was only after Ben Brace and Snowball had got fairly bent to their oars, that they could insure themselves against being overtaken. Then became it a chase in which there was no great advantage in speed between the pursued and the pursuer; though what little there might have been was in favour of the former.

How long this singular chase might have continued, it is impossible to say. Perhaps until the lunatic had exhausted his insane strength, and sunk into the sea: since he appeared to have no idea of making an attempt to return to the boat. He never looked round to see how far he was leaving it behind him. On the contrary, he swam straight on, his eyes steadfastly fixed upon the one object that seemed to have possession of his soul, – the Coromantee! That it was of him only he was thinking could be told from his speech, – for even while in the water he continued to utter imprecations on the head of the negro, – his name being every moment mentioned in terms of menace.

The chase could not have lasted much longer, – even had it been permitted to terminate by the exhaustion of the insane swimmer. The supernatural strength of insanity could not forever sustain him; and in due time he would have sunk helplessly to the bottom of the sea.

But this was not the sort of death that Fate had designed for him. A still more violent ending of his life was in store for the unfortunate wretch. Though he himself knew it not, those aboard the Catamaran had now become aware of its approach.

Behind him, – scarce half a cable’s length, – two creatures were seen moving through the water. Horrible-looking creatures they were: for they were hammer-headed sharks! Both were conspicuously seen: for they had risen to the surface, and were swimming with their dark dorsal fins protruded above, and set with all the triangular sharpness of staysails. Although they had not been observed before by those on the Catamaran, they appeared to have been swimming in the proximity of the gig, – on which, beyond doubt, they had been for some time attending.

They were now advancing side by side, in the same direction as the swimmer, and there could be no doubt as to their design. They were evidently in chase of him, with as much eagerness as he was in chase of the Catamaran.

The wretched man neither saw nor thought of them. Even had he seen them it is questionable whether he would have made any attempt to escape from them. They would, in all likelihood, have appeared a part of the fearful phantasmagoria already filling his brain.

In any case he could not have eluded those earnest and eager pursuers, – unless by the intervention of those upon the raft; and even had these wished to succour him, it would have required a most prompt and adroit interference. They did wish it, even became desirous to save him. Their hearts melted within them as they saw the unfortunate man, maniac though he was, in such a situation. Fear him as they might, – and deem him an enemy as they did, – still was he a human being, – one of their own kind, – and their natural instinct of hostility towards those ravenous monsters of the deep had now obliterated that which they might have felt for him about to become their prey.

Risking everything from the encounter which they might expect with a madman, they suspended their oars, and then commenced backing towards him. Even Snowball exerted himself to bring the Catamaran within saving distance of the wretch who, in his insane hatred, was threatening his own destruction.

Their good intentions, however, proved of no avail. The man was destined to destruction. Before they could get near enough to make any effective demonstration in his favour, the sharks had closed upon him. They who would have saved him saw it, and ceased their exertions to become spectators of the tragical catastrophe.

It was a brief affair. The monsters swam up, one on each side of their intended victim, till their uncouth bodies were parallel with his. He saw one of them first, and, with an instinct more true than his dethroned powers of reason, swerved out of the way to avoid it. The effort resulted in placing him within reach of the other, that, suddenly turning upon its side, grasped him between its extended jaws.

The shriek that followed appeared to proceed from only the half of his body; for the other half, completely dissevered, had been already carried off between the terrible teeth of the zygaena.

There was but one cry. There was not time for another, even had there been strength. Before it could have been uttered, the remaining moiety of the madman’s body was seized by the second shark, and borne down into the voiceless abysm of the ocean!

Chapter Ninety Two.

Boarding the Boat