Chapter Five.
A Tragedy; and a Narrow Escape.
For the next two or three days Purchas faithfully adhered to his promise to refrain from taking enough liquor to “capsize” him; when, again at midnight, on going below to call him, Leslie found the fellow so completely intoxicated that it was impossible to arouse him; and he had perforce to remain on deck the whole night through. And when at length, at the expiration of the morning watch, he again went below, hoping to find that the man had at all events so far slept off the effects of his over-night debauch as to be capable of coming on deck and sobering himself by taking a douche under the head pump, he discovered, to his intense disgust, that this glib maker of promises had somehow obtained a further supply of rum during the night, and was at that moment in a more helpless state than ever! The brig was, however, by this time within a day’s sail of the equator, where Leslie felt tolerably certain that they would fall in with one or more homeward-bound ships, and so be able to transfer Miss Trevor to safer and more eligible quarters; so he did not allow the incident to worry him greatly. He remained on deck long enough to secure sights for his longitude; and then, turning over the care of the brig to the carpenter—a very steady and trustworthy man—he went below and turned in, giving orders that he was to be called at seven bells; adding, in explanation of Purchas’s non-appearance, that he was not very well.
It seemed that he had been asleep but a few minutes when the carpenter, in pursuance of his instructions, knocked at his cabin door, with the information that seven bells had gone. He accordingly rose, plunged his head into a basin of cold water, and within ten minutes was once more on deck, with Potter’s sextant in his hand, ready to take the sun’s meridian altitude, from which to deduce the latitude.
This done, his calculations completed, and the brig’s position at noon pricked off on the chart, he once more hied him to Purchas’s cabin, only to find the door locked from within. For the moment he felt very strongly inclined to burst his way into the cabin, and haul the man up on deck, drunk or sober; but upon further reflection he realised that by the adoption of such a course he would be irretrievably “giving the man away” to his crew—which it was eminently undesirable to do—so, muttering to himself, “Let the brute drink himself out; he will perhaps be better afterwards!” he entered the main cabin and seated himself at the table, upon which the noonday meal was already spread.
Miss Trevor and he were of course the only persons present, with the exception of the steward, who was waiting upon them; and presently the girl, noticing the absence of Purchas, inquired whether he was ill.
“He is not very well, I am sorry to say,” answered Leslie, briefly; and then he turned the conversation into another channel.
But later on, when the steward had left the cabin, he said to Miss Trevor—
“You were just now inquiring about Purchas; and I told you that he was not very well. That reply, I must now explain to you, was not strictly accurate, but I gave it because the steward was present, and I did not wish to state the actual facts in his presence; for, had I done so, it is certain that he would have carried the news forward to the men, which would have been eminently undesirable. The truth, however, is that Purchas has lately given way to drink, and is at this moment locked in his cabin, helplessly intoxicated. It is a thousand pities; for the man has now an excellent opportunity of confirming himself in the command of this brig, and so establishing himself in the position of ship-master, if he will but make use of it. That, however, is his affair; not ours. My reason for telling you this is, that if the present breeze holds we shall reach the equator by this time to-morrow, at a point where we may hope to fall in with homeward-bound ships; indeed we may meet with them at any moment now; I would therefore advise you to pack up your belongings forthwith, in order that you may be ready to be transferred to the first suitable craft that comes along.”
“Thank you very much for telling me this,” answered the girl. “I shall be more than glad, for many reasons, to once more find myself ‘homeward-bound,’ as I believe you sailors term it. And although, thanks to your never-ceasing kindness and consideration, I have been quite comfortable and happy on board this vessel, it will be a relief to me to leave her, for the memory of that terrible man, Potter, oppresses me. I should think that you, too, will be very glad to get away from a ship that must be fraught, for you, with such unpleasant memories.”
“I shall, indeed,” assented Leslie. “But my deliverance, as I suppose you know, must come later. The misfortune by which I became, most unwillingly, the primary cause of Potter’s death, renders it imperative that I should go on to Valparaiso with this brig, there to surrender myself to the authorities and answer for my action. I do not suppose,” he continued, in answer to the expression of consternation that suddenly leapt into her eyes, “that they will be very hard upon me; Purchas and the whole of the crew can of course testify that I acted under extreme provocation and in self-defence; so that probably, if I have to stand a trial at all, the verdict will be one of ‘misadventure.’”
“Oh, but this is dreadful!” ejaculated the girl.
She pulled herself up suddenly, and appeared to consider the situation for some moments; then she said very quietly—
“So, if I am to go home, it appears that I shall have to go alone?”
“I fear so,” answered Leslie. “But,” he continued reassuringly, “you must not run away with the idea that I intend to pack you off aboard the first ship that happens to come along, suitable or otherwise; I reckon upon falling in with several ships within the next thirty-six hours, we shall therefore be able to pick and choose; and you may rest assured that I will not put you aboard a vessel until I have thoroughly satisfied myself that you will be quite comfortable and happy in her. And although we have been speaking only of homeward-bound ships, thus far, we must not forget that, if we should happen to run into a calm on the Line, it is quite on the cards that we may encounter something outward-bound, either to the Cape, India, or Australia, into which to trans-ship you; in which case you will be able to continue your original journey with practically no loss of time.”
“Yes,” answered Miss Trevor, slowly. “That would be an advantage, certainly. On the whole, Mr Leslie, I think I should greatly prefer an outward-bound to a homeward-bound ship, if you please.”
“All right,” laughed Leslie; “we will see what can be done. And now I must go on deck to keep a lookout for a suitable craft.”
He paused at Purchas’s cabin, on his way on deck, and tried the door, but it was still locked from the inside; so he ascended the companion ladder and went out on deck. It was a most gloriously brilliant and sparkling afternoon; the sky an intense blue, save where it was flecked here and there with woolly-looking patches of trade cloud sailing solemnly up out of the east; the sea, too, was as brilliantly blue as the sky, but of a deeper tint; there was not very much swell on, although the breeze was blowing fresh from the eastward; and the brig, with her weather-braces well checked, was staggering along under every rag of canvas that would draw. Leslie glanced keenly ahead and then all round the crystalline clear horizon in search of a sail; but there was nothing in sight save a school of porpoises that were gambolling alongside, racing the brig and chasing each other athwart her fore-foot, each fish apparently rivalling all the rest in an endeavour to see which could shave the brig’s stem most closely without being touched by it.
Thinking that the sight might amuse Miss Trevor, he ran quickly down the companion ladder and entered the main cabin, with the object of inviting her to come on deck and witness it. He entered the cabin just in time to catch sight of her effecting a distinctly hasty retreat into her own private berth; and although it was only, a momentary glimpse that he caught of her ere she slammed the door behind her, he could almost have sworn that she had her pocket-handkerchief to her eyes, as though she were, or had been, crying. Vaguely wondering what was the trouble, he paused uncertainly for a few seconds; then, in pursuance of his original intention, he knocked at her door, and shouted—
“Miss Trevor, there is a school of porpoises at play alongside, if you would care to come on deck and watch them. It is a pretty sight, and, I think, would amuse you.”
There was no reply for a moment or two. Then, in a strangely muffled tone of voice, the girl answered—
“Thank you, Mr Leslie. I will be up in a few minutes.”
It was fully ten minutes after this that the girl, clad entirely in white, made her appearance on deck; and as Leslie stole a covert glance at her face, and noted its absolute composure, he told himself that he had been mistaken; she had certainly not been crying; and he wondered what in the world it was that could have put so ridiculous an idea into his head. She appeared to be frankly and unfeignedly interested in the gambols of the porpoises, laughing heartily from time to time; and altogether seemed so absolutely happy and free from care that Leslie, while he could have kicked himself for being such a fool, felt quite reassured.
At sunset, that night, the breeze still held as fresh as ever; but no sail had yet been sighted, either meeting or overtaking the brig; a circumstance that somewhat disconcerted Leslie, for he was aiming to cross the equator in the longitude of 30 degrees West, at which point it is quite usual for a number of outward and homeward-bound ships to meet; and the Mermaid was now so near that point that, with the wind holding so fresh and steady as it did, he would not have been in the least surprised to fall in with quite a procession of craft proceeding in either direction. It was disappointing, this bareness of the horizon in every direction; for he felt that his companion and charge must be intensely anxious to exchange into something that would be taking her either back to her home, or out to her friends; and he was keenly desirous to relieve her anxiety at the earliest possible moment. And yet, at the back of his mind, behind his earnestness of desire, he was ashamed to discover that there existed a certain feeling of satisfaction that the moment for parting with the girl was still deferred. He had found his connection with her very pleasant—the strong and virile man always does find it pleasant to have something or somebody to protect and be dependent upon him—she was the only intellectual companion now left to him; and with her would go the only individual with whom he could exchange an idea worth uttering. Yes, he admitted to himself, he would miss her when she was gone, miss her badly; ay, and more than badly. Well, it couldn’t be helped; she must go, of course; and this curious feeling of depression that was worrying him at the thought was but an additional imperative reason for her departure with the least possible delay. If by any chance her departure were to be delayed much longer it might be that by then he would feel that he did not want to part with her at all! He stamped his foot on the deck in impatient anger at the novel and unpleasant turn that his thoughts were taking; and sprang into the fore-rigging on his way to the royal-yard, to take a last look round ere darkness fell. He soon reached his destination, and swept the whole circle of the horizon with an eager intensity of gaze. And so clear and transparent was the air that had there been anything in the nature of a sail within thirty miles he could have seen it. The horizon, however, was as bare as it had been from the deck; and he presently descended from his post of observation with an obstinate feeling of relief that made him intensely angry with himself.
Three times, that evening, during the dog-watches, did Leslie try the door of Purchas’s cabin, in an endeavour to gain access to the man and ascertain his condition. On the first two occasions he failed, the door remaining locked against him; but when for the third time he found the door still fastened, he lost patience and, setting his shoulder to the obstruction, burst it open; having arrived at the conclusion that the fellow ought not to be left to himself any longer.
He found the cabin, as he had quite expected, reeking with the fumes of rum, and Purchas still insensible in his bunk. It had been a matter of astonishment to him how the man had contrived to keep himself supplied with drink; for although Leslie, Miss Trevor, and the steward were constantly in and out of the main cabin—from which alone access was to be gained to the lazarette, wherein the ship’s stores and the spirits were stowed—no one had seen him moving about. Stifling therefore the feeling of loathing and nausea that possessed him, he proceeded to institute a search of the cabin with the object of ascertaining whether the drunkard had secreted a supply therein. The search resulted in the speedy discovery of twelve bottles, seven of them empty, an eighth about a quarter full, and four still unbroached. The whole of these he at once got rid of by opening the port in the side of the cabin, and launching them through it into the sea. Then, leaving the port wide-open to sweeten the air somewhat, and assist in the revivification of the man in the bunk, he retired from the cabin, closing the door behind him, and went on deck.
The prolonged incapacity of the new skipper rendered it necessary for Leslie to make some arrangement whereby he could secure a proper amount of rest; and therefore, the carpenter being a steady and fairly reliable man, he arranged with him that the latter should take charge of the starboard watch during Purchas’s “indisposition.” It was Leslie’s eight hours in, that night, and consequently he was free to retire to his cabin between the end of the second dog-watch and midnight; but the weather was now so hot that the comparative coolness of the night air on deck proved irresistibly attractive to Miss Trevor, who, “sleeping in” all night, was naturally indisposed to go to bed at so early an hour as eight o’clock in the evening; and as she evinced a disposition to keep the deck for an hour or two, Leslie also remained on deck to bear her company.
For some time the two walked the weather side of the brig’s flush deck, between the stern grating and the mainmast, conversing more or less intermittently upon various topics, until at length Leslie’s attention was attracted to the man at the wheel, who, he noticed, was continually glancing over his shoulder with a perturbed air at the water astern, instead of keeping his eyes upon the compass card. It seemed also to Leslie that the man was trying to attract his attention, although he was too bashful, in Miss Trevor’s presence, to speak.
So when the pair next reached the stern grating in the course of their promenade, Leslie paused, and said—
“What is the matter, Tom? You seem to be bestowing quite an unusual amount of attention on the wake of the ship; is there anything remarkable to be seen there?”
The man straightened himself up with the satisfied air of one who, after much striving, has at length achieved success.
“Well, I don’t exactly know, sir, as you would call it remarkable” he answered; “but there’s something visible over the starn as perhaps the lady might like to see.”
“Oh!” answered Leslie. “Then let us have a look at it.”
And offering his hand to Miss Trevor, he assisted her to mount the grating and led her to the taffrail, over which they both leaned, gazing down into the black profundity beneath them.
The brig was travelling at the rate of about six knots; at which speed she was wont to create a considerable amount of disturbance in the element through which she ploughed her passage; the water was brilliantly phosphorescent, and as a result of this the wake of the brig was on this occasion a mass of sea-fire, the foam that she churned up on either side of her glowing and sparkling with luminous clouds interspersed with thousands of tiny stars that waxed and waned with every plunge of the vessel. The water was almost as transparent as air itself, and by leaning out over the taffrail it was possible to see the rudder, the brig’s “heel,” and a considerable amount of her “run,” all aglow with bluish white light that streamed away far astern like a miniature Milky Way. It was a beautiful spectacle, and one at which an imaginative person might have gazed for a full hour or more without tiring. But Tom, the helmsman, was not an imaginative man, and the spectacle of a ship’s wake glowing and scintillating with sea-stars was one that he had beheld so often that it had long ceased to appeal to him as anything at all uncommon. It was something else that had attracted his attention, and that he had thought might interest “the lady.” For there, in the very thickest of the swirling mass of clouds and discs and circles and stars of sea-fire, at a depth of perhaps six feet below the surface, was to be seen, brilliantly illuminated by its own movement through the water, the glowing shape of an enormous shark, fully twenty feet in length, keeping pace with the brig as steadily as if he were being towed by her. The whole bulk of the monster was clearly, startlingly, distinct, much more so than would have been the case at daytime, for his body showed against the black water like a shape of white fire, while with every sweep of his powerful tail he scattered a trail of glowing sparks behind him that constituted of itself quite a respectable wake.
“Oh, what a dreadful creature!” exclaimed Miss Trevor, shrinking back in dismay at the sight. “It is like a nightmare! That must surely be a shark; is it not? It is the first shark I have ever seen, Mr Leslie; and I am certain that I never wish to see another. I had no idea that sharks were such monstrous creatures; I always thought that they were about the same size as the porpoises that we were looking at this afternoon.”
“Yes,” laughed Leslie, “very possibly. This, however, is rather an exceptionally fine fellow, although I have seen even bigger specimens than he. Do not look at him too long,” he continued, “or possibly you may dream of him, in which case he would be likely to prove a nightmare to you indeed.”
“He’ve been followin’ of us for the last hour, sir,” remarked the helmsman. “And they do say that when a shark hangs on to a ship like that, somebody’s goin’ to die aboard of her.”
“Yes,” answered Leslie, carelessly, “I have heard that story myself; but I don’t believe it, for I have been in ships that have been followed for days on end by sharks, without anything coming of it—except that we have generally managed to catch the sharks themselves at last. No; this fellow is following us because he happens to be hungry, and hopes that the cook will heave overboard enough scraps to take the sharp edge off his appetite. But the dew is falling very heavily, Miss Trevor; had not you better fetch up a wrap?”
“No, thanks,” answered the girl, as she moved away and extended her hand for him to help her down off the grating on to the deck; “it is growing late, so I will bid you good night and go to my cabin.”
“Sorry to hear that Mr Purchas is bad, sir,” observed Tom, tentatively, when Miss Trevor had vanished down the companion ladder. “Hope it ain’t nothin’ serious?”
“Oh dear, no,” answered Leslie, perceiving with annoyance that the man was connecting the presence of the shark under the counter with Purchas’s invisibility; “merely a rather sharp bilious attack, which is now over, I am glad to say. He will probably be on deck again to-morrow.”
Then, as the carpenter—who had been keeping out of the way during Miss Trevor’s presence on deck—came aft, Leslie gave over the charge of the brig to him, and turned in.
The remainder of the first watch, and the whole of the middle watch, passed without incident save that, when Leslie went on deck at midnight, he found that the wind had softened down somewhat—as was indeed to be expected, with the brig drawing so near to the equator—the vessel’s speed having dropped to about four knots. But the weather held superbly fine, and the barometer remained absolutely steady; Leslie therefore retired to his bunk at the end of the middle watch with a perfectly easy mind, and the fixed determination to have Purchas on deck and under the head pump at seven bells, when he himself would be called.
It was still quite dark when he was startled out of a profound sleep by a sudden loud outcry on deck, followed by a rushing and scuffling of feet overhead accompanied by the flapping of canvas, as though the brig had been suddenly luffed into the wind.
Leslie was well acquainted with the vagaries of equatorial weather, and therefore, under the apprehension that a squall was threatening, he sprang from his berth and dashed up on deck without waiting to exchange his pyjamas for other clothing. As he emerged from the companion he came into violent contact with some one who was evidently about to make a hasty descent of the ladder; and when the pair had recovered from the shock, he discovered that he had collided with the carpenter, who betrayed every symptom of the most violent agitation; while the entire crew, apparently, shouting to each other excitedly, were grouped upon the stern grating. The brig had been luffed into the wind, and everything, including studding-sails, was flat aback. It was well for the craft, and all concerned, that the wind had fallen light, or there would have been mischief up aloft, and plenty of wreckage among the lighter spars.
“What in the world is the matter, Chips?” demanded Leslie testily, as with a single glance he took in the full condition of affairs.
“Oh, Mr Leslie, sir, something awful has just happened!” exclaimed the man addressed, stammering with agitation and excitement. “I were standin’ as it might be just there,” pointing to a spot on the deck about midway between the skylight and the mainmast, “fillin’ my pipe, when out of the corner of my heye I seen somebody step out of the companion on deck; and fust of all I thought ’twas you; but, lookin’ again, I see as it was the skipper—not Cap’n Potter, you’ll understand, sir, he bein’ dead and buried; but Cap’n Purchas. I were just goin’ up to him to say how glad I were to see ’im about again, when he steps over to the binnacle, takes a peep into the compass-bowl, and then, afore a man could say ‘Jack Robinson,’ up he jumps on to the starn gratin’, from there to the taffrail—an’ overboard! Scotty, there, who was at the wheel, owns that he more’n half guessed, from the queer look in the skipper’s heyes, that somethin’ was wrong, and made a grab at ’im as ’e passed; but Mr Purchas were miles too quick for ’im, and Scotty on’y reached the taffrail in time to see the pore man strike the water. And the next second that devil of a shark that have been followin’ of us had ’im!”
Leslie reeled as though he had been struck a heavy blow. Here was another tragedy; the second that had happened within the short space of time that had elapsed since he had joined this unlucky brig. And even as he had blamed himself for being in some sort responsible for the first, so now he reproached himself as being in a measure responsible for this. He felt that he had been remiss. In his anxiety to shield the unhappy man from the observation and unfavourable comment of the crew, he had carefully concealed from everybody the true cause of Purchas’s retirement, leaving the man alone to recover from his drunken bout instead of telling off somebody to watch him. Had he done this, he reflected in self-reproach, this dreadful thing would not have happened. The need for concealment was now past, however; so, rallying his faculties, he called all hands to group themselves round him, as he had something to say to them.
“My lads,” he began, “I believe that you all profoundly regret the awful thing that has just happened; for Mr Purchas was a most kind and considerate officer to every one of you. But none of you can regret his terrible end so much as I do; for I feel that I am to some extent to blame for it. A certain wise man has said, ‘Of the dead speak nothing but good;’ and it is well to carry out this precept, so far as is possible. There are occasions, however, when the truth—the whole truth—must be told, even though it reflect discredit upon those who are gone; and this is one of them. I am sorry to be obliged to tell you that what really ailed Mr Purchas was—drunkenness! Very little more than a week had elapsed after Captain Potter’s death when I discovered in Mr Purchas a tendency to take rather too much rum. I spoke to him about it, with the result that he promised to be more moderate in his potations. But he did not keep his promise, and upon one occasion, at least, he was so thoroughly intoxicated that he slept through his entire watch, stretched out upon a hencoop.”
“Ay, ay, sir; that’s gospel truth. I remember it perfectly,” murmured two or three of the men, interrupting.
“Of course,” assented Leslie, “you could not have avoided noticing it. It was after that occurrence that I remonstrated with him; and for a few days thereafter he was better. Then he began again, finally giving way altogether, with the melancholy result that you have all witnessed. I knew how injurious to his interests it would be, and how seriously it would weaken discipline if you men should once come to understand that your skipper was a drunkard; so I let it be understood among you that Mr Purchas was confined to his cabin through a slight illness; while, as a matter of fact, he was all the time lying there in a drunken stupor.
“Now, when it is too late, I feel that I committed an error of judgment in attempting to conceal from you all the actual facts. Instead of being so keenly anxious to shield him that I could think of nothing else, I ought to have anticipated the possibility that upon his return to consciousness he might be tempted to do something foolish; and, anticipating this, I ought to have told off a man from each watch to sit with and keep an eye upon him.”
“Ay,” observed the carpenter, “it might ha’ been a good thing to ha’ done that, certingly. But you haven’t got nothin’ to reproach yourself with, sir; you done what you did with a good and kind intention; and you wasn’t to know that the fust thing he’d do when he come back to his senses ’d be to up and jump overboard. Oh no, sir, you ain’t to blame in noways for what’s happened. What do you say, bullies?”
“No, no; in course the gen’leman ain’t to blame; nobody what’s seen how the land lay—like we have—and how Mr Leslie have been a-doin’ all he could to help the skipper, could ever say as he’s any way to blame. Not he!” answered one and another of the men, each of them in one way or another endorsing the carpenter’s verdict.
“Thank you, men,” returned Leslie; “it is a great relief to me to feel that you think as you do in this matter. Now, that being disposed of, there is a further point to be considered; and it is this. The shocking fate of Mr Purchas leaves us with no navigator on board save myself. I have no great desire to proceed in this brig all the way to Valparaiso; but, nevertheless, there are reasons that, to me, seem to make it desirable that I should do so. I may tell you that we are now very near the Line; so near, indeed, that we may fall in with other craft, aiming to cross it at the same point as ourselves, at any moment. Now if we should fall in with a ship, would you wish me to communicate with her and ask her captain to place a navigating officer on board this brig, to take her to Valparaiso; or would you prefer that I should take charge—with Chips, here, as mate—and navigate you to Valparaiso myself?”
“Speakin’ for myself,” answered the carpenter, promptly, “I don’t want nobody better’n what you are, Mr Leslie, in command of this here hooker. We knows you, sir; and we’ve seen what you can do—we’ve took your measure, sir—if you’ll forgive the liberty of my plain speakin’—and we’re all agreed as you’re a prime seaman—one o’ the best as I’ve ever sailed under—and I’d a precious sight sooner see you in command than what I would a stranger. And, if I ain’t mistook, that’s the feelin’ with all hands of us. Am I right, mates, or ain’t I?”
“Right you are, Chips; no stranger for me.”
“Mr Leslie’s the skipper for us; we don’t want nobody else.” Thus, and in similar terms, the entire crew expressed their perfect agreement with the view enunciated by the carpenter; and there and then the matter was settled.
It was with a very considerable amount of trepidation that, next morning, Leslie undertook the task of communicating to Miss Trevor the news of Purchas’s death—taking care to suppress the full horror of the tragedy by simply stating that the unfortunate fellow had committed suicide by jumping overboard, omitting all mention of the shark. But although the girl was naturally much shocked at the occurrence of a second death on board, following so quickly upon that of Potter, this was the full extent of her emotion; Purchas was not at all the sort of man to appeal to her or to arouse in her any sort of interest or feeling beyond that of disgust at his weakness in surrendering himself to the seduction of so degrading a vice as that of drink; and she received the information quite calmly, much to her companion’s relief.
Meanwhile, and quite contrary to expectation, the breeze again freshened an hour or so before sunrise, with the result that when Leslie took his observation at noon he found that the brig was within a mile of crossing the equator. And, what was a much more remarkable circumstance, the horizon was still absolutely bare, not a single sail of any description being in sight, even from the main royal-yard!
Upon ascertaining this last disconcerting fact, Leslie turned to Miss Trevor, who was on deck, and said—
“Fate appears to have a grudge against you, and to be determined that you shall not yet leave us. I had confidently reckoned upon falling in with something hereabout to which I could transfer you; but the continuance of this breeze—which most sailors would regard as a stroke of marvellous good fortune—has enabled everything bound south to slip across the Line without suffering the exasperating experience of a more or less prolonged period of calm; while, as your ill-luck will have it, there happens to be nothing northward-bound on the spot just when we are most anxious to meet it. Furthermore, every mile that we now sail will lessen your chance of effecting a trans-shipment, because our course will be ever diverging from that of northward-bound shipping. Of course, now that I am in command, I can continue to steer for a day or two longer in such a direction as may enable us, with luck, still to fall in with a homeward-bounder, but—”
“Is my presence on the ship then, so very embarrassing to you, Mr Leslie?” she interrupted with the ghost of a smile. “It would certainly appear so; for the burden of your conversation, ever since we came on board, has been my trans-shipment!”
“Embarrassing!” ejaculated Leslie, in extreme surprise. “Most certainly not; on the contrary—” he interrupted himself. “That is not the point at all,” he continued. “I have assumed—very naturally, I think—that you are anxious either to return home and make a fresh start, or else to continue your outward journey, according as circumstances may determine; and I, on my part, have been most anxious to meet what I conceived to be your wishes. But, as to your presence aboard the brig being an embarrassment to me, I assure you that the longer you are compelled to remain here, the better I shall be pleased.”
“Thank you,” answered the girl; “I suppose I must accept that admission as a compliment. Well, Mr Leslie, of course you are quite right in assuming that, if a favourable opportunity should offer, I would gladly avail myself of it. But my greatest anxiety is to allay that of my friends; which, I imagine, they will not begin to experience until some little time has elapsed after the date at which the Golden Fleece might reasonably be expected to reach Melbourne. And about that time I should think we ought to be at Valparaiso, ought we not? Very well. In that case, it will be easy for me to despatch from there a reassuring cable message to my Australian friends, following it up with a letter of explanation, and all will be well. Moreover, though you would perhaps never suspect it, I am of a decidedly roving and adventurous disposition, and I shall not at all object to visiting Valparaiso; you need, therefore, worry yourself no further upon that feature of the matter. But, of course, if you would rather not have me—”
“Pray say no more, I beg you,” interrupted Leslie. “Your continued presence on board this brig can only be a source of the keenest pleasure and satisfaction to me; and if you can be content to remain, I shall be more than content that you do so.”
And thus was settled a matter that was destined to exercise a most important influence upon the lives of these two people.
Singularly enough, within an hour of the occurrence of the above-recorded conversation, a sail was sighted ahead, steering north; which upon her nearer approach proved to be a South Sea whaler, homeward-bound. She was steering a course that promised to bring the two craft close alongside each other; and at Leslie’s suggestion Miss Trevor at once went below and hurriedly penned three letters—one to her people at home, one to her father in India, and one to her friends in Australia—briefly detailing the particulars of the loss of the Golden Fleece and what had subsequently befallen the writer, together with her intention to proceed to Valparaiso, if necessary; after which she would act according to circumstances. At the same time Leslie wrote to the owners of the Golden Fleece apprising them of the loss of the ship, and the fact that, as far as his knowledge went, there were but three survivors, namely, Miss Trevor, himself, and the seaman whom he had taken off the wreckage.
By the time that these letters were ready, the whaler was close at hand, upon which the brig’s ensign was hoisted, and the signal made that she wished to communicate. Thereupon both craft were brought to the wind, and hove-to; the brig’s quarter-boat was lowered, and the carpenter, with three hands, pulled alongside the whaler, taking the letters with him, with the request that the skipper would kindly post them at the first port arrived at. This the man readily agreed to do—such little courtesies among seamen being quite usual; and then, with mutual dips of their ensigns, the two craft proceeded upon their respective ways.
The Mermaid was singularly fortunate in the weather experienced by her on this occasion of crossing the Line, as it often happens that ships in these latitudes are detained—sometimes for weeks—by persistent calms, during the prevalence of which, by constantly box-hauling the yards and taking the utmost advantage of every little draught of air that comes along, they may succeed in gaining a mile or two in the course of every twenty-four hours; whereas she carried a breeze with her that ran her, without a pause, from the north-east trades, across the calm belt, right into the south-east trade winds, which happened just then to be blowing fresh. She therefore made excellent progress to the southward after parting from the friendly whaler.
It was about a week later that the brig, thrashing along to the southward, close-hauled, and with her fore topgallantsail and main royal stowed, experienced a thrillingly narrow escape from destruction.
It was just two bells in the first watch, that is to say nine o’clock p.m. The night was fine, with bright starlight, and no moon, that luminary happening then to rise late. The wind was piping up strong and sending the trade clouds scurrying across the spangled sky at a great pace; and there was a fair amount of sea running, into which the Mermaid dug her bluff bows viciously, smothering her forecastle with spray and darkening the weather clew of her fore-course with it halfway up to the yard. Miss Trevor was on deck, taking the air, and graciously favouring Leslie with her company for an hour or two prior to turning in for the night. The pair were promenading the deck together, fore and aft, between the stern grating and the mainmast, the girl availing herself of the support of Leslie’s arm to steady her upon the dancing deck.
Suddenly, as they were in the act of wheeling round abreast the main rigging, a flash of ruddy light illumined the tumbling surface of the sea, the deck they trod, the sails, and every detail of the brig’s equipment; and glancing skyward, they beheld a meteor trailing a long tail of scintillating sparks behind it, high aloft over the brig’s port quarter. With inconceivable rapidity the glowing object increased in size, its light meanwhile changing as rapidly from red to a dazzling white, until the light became almost as intense as that of the noonday sun. It was a magnificent spectacle, but one also full of unspeakable horror for those aboard the brig who stood gazing in speechless fascination at it; for it was evident that it was not only falling through the air at a speed far surpassing that of a cannon shot, but was also coming straight for the brig. A deep humming sound that, as it seemed, in the space of a single moment increased to an almost deafening scream, marked the speed of its flight through the air; and as Leslie grasped the fact that in another second that enormous glowing mass—weighing, as he conceived, some hundreds of tons—must infallibly strike the brig and smash her to atoms, he instinctively interposed his own body between his companion and the gigantic hurtling missile—as though such frail protection could have been of any service to her! Then, while it was still some two hundred yards from the brig—at which distance the heat of it fell upon their white upturned faces like the breath of a suddenly opened furnace—the dazzling white-hot mass burst with a deafening explosion into a thousand pieces, some of which flew hurtling over and about the brig, but happily without touching her; and the danger was over. It had come and was gone again in the brief space of some seven seconds.
“That is the narrowest shave I have ever had in my life,” ejaculated Leslie, catching his breath. “And you, Miss Trevor, have had an experience such as falls to the lot of few people, I imagine—the experience of being threatened with destruction by a falling meteor, and surviving to tell the tale! I wonder how many others, beside this little ship’s company, have ever beheld so appalling and magnificent a sight as we have this night witnessed?”
“Have you any suspicion, Mr Leslie, that this brig is especially marked out and chosen as the theatre for exceptionally thrilling experiences?” quaintly demanded the girl. “Because if there is a probability that such is the case, I really think I shall be obliged to reconsider my decision to proceed to Valparaiso in her, and ask you to land me at the nearest port. The tragic deaths of those two men, Potter and Purchas, were quite thrilling enough to upset the nerves of any ordinary girl; but when it comes to being bombarded by meteors, I would really very much rather be excused.”
“Of course you would,” assented Leslie, laughingly. “All the same,” he continued, “although I must confess that I have never heard of such a thing happening, it might as probably have occurred in the heart of London itself as out here at sea. That meteors actually fall to the earth we know, for there are numerous records of such happenings; they have been seen to fall, and have immediately afterwards been found partially buried in the ground and still hot from the friction of their flight through the air. Precisely where they will fall and strike is necessarily a matter of the merest chance; you are, therefore, so far as falling meteors are concerned, quite as safe here as anywhere else.”
“Thank you,” answered Miss Trevor, gravely, “it is reassuring to learn that, no matter where I am, I am liable to have a huge incandescent mass of meteoric stone hurtling at me out of space at any moment—for that is what your statement really amounts to, you know—isn’t it? And now I will bid you good night and retire to my cabin, with the fixed resolution not to dream of falling meteors.”
And therewith she gave him her hand for a moment, and then vanished down the companion-way.