CHAPTER VII.
A WARM RECEPTION.
We bowled along for half-an-hour, keeping a bright look-out for the frigate, but we could see nothing of her.
"I say, Sprawl, had we not better heave-to, till daylight? You see we can make nothing out as to her whereabouts; mind we do not run past her in the night."
"Indeed, Lanyard, I think we had better—so heave-to at once, will ye?"
The word was passed; and after having given little Binnacle his instructions to call him the instant they made out the frigate, or the weather assumed a threatening aspect, Sprawl and I went below to secure a couple of hours' sleep, troubled though they might be, before day broke. We had just commenced on our salt junk, and having each of us filled a glass of grog, I was in the very act of hobbing and nobbing with my illustrious ally, when we heard some one call down the after-hatchway. I instantly recognised the voice of Corporal Lennox.
"I say, Dogvane, do rouse out Mr De Walden—I know he is regularly done up, but it is his watch, and unless he is on deck at muster, he will be sure to catch it, and I should be sorry that he did."
"Why, master corporal," responded the quartermaster, "you might have put yourself to the trouble of coming down yourself and awakening Mr De Walden, and so you would have been under no obligation to nobody; but I won't grudge the trouble, so I will do it for you."
"Hillo," we immediately heard old Dograne sing out, "on deck, there."
"What do you want?" replied Corporal Lennox.
"Oh, nothing, but Mr De Walden is not here."
"Never mind then, old fellow," said Lennox, "he is in the cabin, I suppose."
Here little Binnacle struck in—"Why, Lennox, what are you bothering about; did I not desire you to call Mr De Walden?"
"You did sir, but he is not below, unless he be in the cabin."
"Well, did you ask the captain's steward if he was there or not?"
"No, sir."
"Ask him now, then; and tell him to say to Mr De Walden that he is wanted."
"I'll tell you what,"—(at this moment struck in old Davie),—"I am deucedly done up, so tip me the case-bottle again, and I will make another tumbler of grog, and then turn in till daylight—for even if we make the frigate out, what use is there in"——
"Hush," said I, "what is that?" There was a buzz on deck, and a rattling up the ladder of the people from below, and we could hear a voice say, "Mr De Walden! he is not in the berth below,"—another responded, "The captain's steward says he is not in the cabin."—"Is Mr De Walden forward there, boatswain?"—"No," sung out a gruff voice, sounding low, and mollified by distance,—"No Mr De Walden here."
"Is Mr De Walden aft there?" continued little Binnacle.
"No sir—no."
A sudden light flashed on me—I trembled, and a chill curdled the blood at my heart, for I had not seen him since we had hove the schooner on the reef. I ran on deck, but as I ascended the ladder, "Pooh," said I to myself, "all nonsense—why put myself into a flurry?" And as I stepped off the ladder, little Binnacle called down the main-hatchway—
"I say, De Walden—Henry—Henry De Walden—come on deck, man—come on deck—this is no time for skylarking—Mr Lanyard is on deck."
Several gruff voices replied from below, "Mr De Walden is not here, sir."—"No Mr De Walden here."
The buzz increased—"Is Mr De Walden forward there?"
"No."
"Is he below?"
"No, sir, no—no Mr De Walden here."
Old Bloody Politeful, kind-hearted soul as he always was, had now also turned out—"Why, Brail, what is all this bother about?"
"My dear Sprawl," said I, greatly excited, "young De Walden is nowhere to be seen."
"Nonsense," rejoined he; "why, he was standing close beside me the whole time we were crossing the bar, even up to the time when I was fool enough to squir my old hat over the masthead."
"And so he was," chimed in Pumpbolt.
"Then beat to quarters," said Mr Lanyard;—"the gallant youngster never missed muster yet—Desire them to beat to quarters, Mr Marline."
"Ay, ay, sir," responded the midshipman. All hands turned out promptly.
"Men," said the lieutenant—"Mr De Walden is missing.—Have any of you seen him?"
"No, sir,—none of us have seen him since the strange schooner struck."
"Have you overhauled the midshipmen's berth, Mr Marline?"
"Yes, sir."
"The whole ship has been searched," said little Binnacle, who had just returned from below; "cable-tier, hold, and all. The boatswain and carpenter have been all over her. The gunner has even looked into the magazine. Mr De Walden is not on board, sir."
"Poo, there he is at the masthead,—there," said I; for as I looked up I distinctly saw, either with my bodily optic, or my mind's eye, I am not quite certain which to this hour, a dark figure standing on the long-yard, with one hand holding on by a backstay, while with the other it pointed upwards into the pure sky. Old Dick at this was in a towering passion. "Come down—Mr De Walden—come down. sir—what is the fun of all this?—why, your absence has put the whole ship in a fuss—we thought you had fallen overboard." The dark object remained stock-still. "What can the captain see?" passed amongst the men. "Why, I see nothing, but Mr Brail does," quoth el señor teniente. "Do you see any thing at the masthead?" said one to his neighbour—"Do you see any thing?" quoth another. No one saw any thing but myself. "Look there, Sprawl—there—by Heaven what can this mean—do you really see nothing there?" The worthy fellow shaded his eyes with his hand, and kept twisting and turning and rolling his head about, as if it had been fixed on the ball and socket principle; but the object that had fascinated me was invisible to him. Gradually the figure, without changing its position, thinned; and anon, as if it had been a shred of dark vapour between us and the heavens, the stars were seen through it; but the outline, to my distempered vision, was still as well defined as ever. Presently, however, it began to grow indistinct and misty; and, whatever it was, it imperceptibly melted away and disappeared. De Walden was nowhere to be found. I looked back towards the dark estuary we had left. The sky in the background was heavy, black, and surcharged, as if it had been one vast thundercloud; but the white line of breakers on the bar continued distinctly visible; over which the heavenly moonlight rainbow still hovered, although gradually fading; and even as I looked it ceased to be distinguishable. As it disappeared in the surrounding blackness, even so vanished all hope from my mind of young De Walden's safety: and remembering the poor boy's last words—"A good omen!" said I, "Alas, alas, an evil one it hath been to thee, poor boy!"
"Call the watch, boatswain's mate," said Lanyard; and without speaking a word more, he, old Davie, and I descended to the cabin again.
"What saw you aloft, Benjie? tell us truly—none of your waking dreams, you mongrel, half Scotchman, half Pat," said Sprawl.
I told him.
"I know it is downright nonsense—there was no one aloft, and I am persuaded it was all a delusion; still"——
"Nonsense—to be sure it is all nonsense—regular moonshine, Benjie," said Davie—"cannot be—you are overfatigued, man—you will laugh at all this to-morrow—but poor young De Walden—he must have fallen overboard when we drove the Don on the reef. God help us—what a melancholy report we shall have to make to Sir Oliver! but give us some grog, Lanyard, you sticky old villain, and I will lie down on the locker till daylight."
I was bewildered—my mind from my early youth was tinged with superstition, but, nevertheless, what could this have been? For four-and-twenty hours, whatever I might have drank, I had eaten little or nothing,—and I began to perceive that I laboured under the oppressive effects of such a recoil as one experiences after having had the folly and audacity to get tipsy on unaided champagne, without having stowed away a ground tier of wholesome solid food; besides, I now found that the blow on my head, hard and thick as that might be, was beginning to tell; for I was aware that my pulse was feverish, and I had had several attacks of giddiness during the evening. I puzzled myself for half-an-hour in vain; at length I came to the conclusion, no doubt the correct one, that it was a freak of the imagination. When I raised my head from my hand, by which time the lamp was flickering in the socket, I saw my friends sound asleep, so I was not long in following their example, and worn out as I was, I soon forgot every thing, and was as fast as they were.
I was awoke by the mate of the watch calling Mr Lanyard about half an hour before daylight.
"We see the commodore, sir, about two miles on the lee-beam," said Mr Marline, as he stuck his head into the cabin.
"Very well—I will be on deck presently—how is her head?"
"South-west, sir—but the wind is very light."
He retired—and Dick having rigged with an expedition unknown to all mankind, barring a sailor or a monkey, went on deck. A restless fit had overtaken me, so I soon followed him.
It was now four in the morning—there were clouds in the sky, but very little wind. In the east, all was clear—the morning star had already slipt her moorings, and was several degrees above the horizon, against which the rolling swell rose and sank as black as ink, except where the glorious planet cast a tiny wake on it, glittering in a small line of silver light; underneath, the glow of the advancing sun gradually tinged the sky and every shred of clouds with a crimson flush.
On the other hand, when we looked down to leeward, far in the steamy west, the declining moon hung over the dark sea pale and sickly, as a lamp whose oil had failed. She looked as if she would have dropped at once into the ocean, and the feeble wake she cast through the ascending fog was dull and cheerless. There, however, in the very centre of her half quenched radiance, lay the noble frigate, rolling heavily on the long seas, under her three topsails; now rising distinct and clear against the horizon on the ridge of the dark swell, and again sinking on the liquid hills until she disappeared, as if the ever heaving waters had swallowed her up. All overhead continued blue, and cold, and serene.
"Mr Marline, bear up, and run down to her."
"Ay, ay, sir."
The deadening splash and gushing sound of the felucca's counter, as it came surging down, while lying to, was soon, but gradually, exchanged for the rushing of the water and buzzing of the foam past a vessel rapidly cleaving the billows.
As we approached, all remained quiet and still on board the frigate. We stood on—not a soul seemed to notice us—we crossed her stern—still all silent, and at length we rounded to under her lee. We were so close that one might have chucked a biscuit into her gangway.
"Are you waiting for a boat, Mr Lanyard?" at length said the officer of the watch, the old gunner.
"No, no," he replied, "I will be on board presently."
Sprawl was roused out, and in a few seconds we were in our own tiny skiff, and approaching the frigate. All continued dark and dismal, as we looked up at her black hull, dark sails, and tall spars. She was rolling heavily, the masts and yards groaning, the bulkheads creaking and screaming, and the topsails fluttering and grumbling, until the noise, every now and then, ended in a sounding thump, as if the old ship, in all her parts, were giving audible indications of her impatience of the tedious calm; while her stained canvass appeared to be as heavy as if a wetting shower had just poured down. We approached, and as the man in the bow stuck his boat-hook into the old lady's side to fend off, the sidesman handed us the man-ropes, and presently we were all three on the Gazelle's quarterdeck.
Every thing was wet and uncomfortable—the heavy dew was dripping down from the shrouds and rigging, and every lumbering flap of the topsails sent a cold shower pattering on deck. The watch had all roused out from the booms, and were clustered on the hammock cloths, looking down on us. When we got on deck, they followed us as far aft as they thought they might venture to do, while others again had hung themselves in a variety of ways over the side to get the marrow of our secret out of our boat's crew. The old gunner was arrayed in his pea-jacket and blue trowsers, as if he had been in the North Sea; and the red sparkle of the light in the binnacle glanced on the face and chest of the sunburned seaman at the wheel.
"How is Sir Oliver, and Mr Garboard, and Mr Donovan?"
Any man who has lived in such a climate will evince no wonder at the anxiety and rapidity with which the questions were put.
"Why, all pretty well," said the gunner. "Sir Oliver, indeed, has been ill, but is now better—and Mr Garboard is nearly all right again; he took the forenoon watch yesterday, sir. But as for Mr Donovan, why, sir,"——
"Never mind, never mind," said Sprawl; "send down to Sir Oliver, and say that we have got on board."
The man dived, and presently brought a message that Sir Oliver desired to see us in his cabin.
We descended; a solitary lamp hung from the deck above, and lit up the large cabin any thing but brilliantly. It had the appearance of having been newly lit, and wanting oil,—for when we first entered it was flaring up like a torch, but gradually declined until we could scarcely see about us. As you have not been below before, I will describe it.
The cabin was very large, even for a vessel of her class, and was not subdivided in any way. There were four guns, long twenty-fours, two of a side, but the devil a stick of furniture in it, with the exception of the table in the middle, and six or seven chairs, two black hair sofas, one on each side of the cabin, a chest of drawers, and the crimson curtains before the stern windows. The portrait of a lady was the only ornament, a buxom-looking dame, but of the Earth earthly, nothing etherial about her.
The commodore's cot hung well aft, near the small door that opened into the quarter-gallery on the starboard side—the bed-clothes were all disarranged as if he had recently risen; and at first we thought he must have left the cabin as we came down, and walked forward on the main-deck.
"Where is the commodore?" said Lanyard to the captain's steward, who accompanied us with a light, but which had been blown out by the opening of the cabin door.
"I left him in the cabin, sir—I suppose he is there still, sir."
By this time the ruddy east was brightening; the light that shone through the stern windows came in aid of the dim lamp, and we saw a figure, Sir Oliver as we conceived, stretched on one of the sofas that stood between the aftermost gun and the quarter-gallery door, on the larboard side. The man brought two candles and placed them on the table. Both Sprawl and myself had been rather surprised that the commodore did not instantly address us as we entered, but we now noticed that the gallant old fellow was very pale and wan, and that he spoke with difficulty, as if he had been labouring under asthma.
"Welcome, gentlemen—glad to see you back again. I am prepared to hear that you have failed in your object—quite prepared; but I have been down ever since you shoved off, and am far from well yet."
He rose and shook hands with us with all his usual cordiality of manner.
"Sit down, gentlemen,—there—sit down. Howard, get coffee."
It was handed.
"Well, Master Brail—you have had enough of piloting and cutting out," said he, endeavouring to appear cheery and unconcerned—"curiosity quite satisfied I daresay." I was about replying when he continued, addressing the lieutenants.
"You have had some fighting, I suppose—indeed, we heard the firing distinctly enough."
"Yes, commodore," said Sprawl, "enough and to spare of that; but, as you have guessed, we were unable to bring out the polacre—she now lies sunk in the river."
"Well, well," rejoined Sir Oliver, "I will hear the particulars by and by; but I hope you have not lost any, at least not many of the people—none killed I hope?—this horrible climate will leave few of us for gunpowder soon—none killed I hope?—a few wounded, of course, I bargain for"——
Sprawl was silent for a minute, and then handed him the return.—"Indeed, Sir Oliver," said he, "I am grieved to tell you that it has been a bad business; we have lost several excellent men, and our doctor's list is also heavy; however, all the wounded are likely to do well."
The commodore took the paper in his nervous hand, and as he read the official account of our adventure, it shook violently, and his pale lip quivered, as he exclaimed from time to time—"God bless me, how unfortunate! how miserably unfortunate! But, gentlemen, you deserve all praise—you have behaved nobly, gallantly. I have no heart, however, to read the return. You have had how many killed?" turning to Lanyard.
He mentioned the number.
"And wounded?"
He also gave him the information he desired in this respect.
"Merciful Heaven!" groaned the excellent man—"but it cannot be helped—it cannot be helped. Pray," said he, the tone of his voice changed—I noticed it quavered, and he seemed to screw his words through his clenched teeth with difficulty,—all of which surprised me a good deal—"none of the boys—the young gentlemen—none of the midshipmen are hurt, or"——
He seemed afraid to pronounce the word "killed." Sprawl looked at Lanyard. He saw that he hung in the wind.
"Why, no, sir," said he. "Why, no, none of them seriously hurt."
"Nor killed?" said the commodore, affecting to be at ease, as he lay back on his sofa; "I am glad of it—I thank heaven for it. But really I am so weak from this confounded complaint!"
"No, sir," continued old Davie, "none of the midshipmen are either killed or wounded, but Mr De Walden"——
He suddenly raised himself into a sitting position, and the increasing daylight, that streamed through the stern windows, and the scuttle overhead, showed that he was paler than ever; the ague of his lip increased, and his whole frame trembled violently, as he said in a weak nervous voice—"Mr De Walden, did you say? what of him? You just now said none of the young gentlemen were either killed or wounded." And he looked first at Sprawl, then at Dick, and lastly at me, but all of us were so taken aback by such unusual and unaccountable conduct, that for a second or two we could make no answer.
At length Lanyard rallied his wits about him. "You are right, sir, none of the midshipmen were hurt, but Mr de Walden"——
"Mr de Walden again!—what can you mean? Speak out, for the love of mercy"—and he seized his arm, and then shrunk away again, and held up his hand, as if he could not stand the hearing of what he might utter. "Don't say it, Mr Lanyard; don't, if you regard me, say it;" and he lay back, and held both hands on his eyes, and sobbed audibly.
Sprawl and I again exchanged looks, but neither of us could find it in our hearts to speak.
At length the old man made a violent effort at composure,—"Gentlemen, you will pardon me; disease has broken me down, and fairly unhinged me; and I could, as you see, cry like a woman. I had, indeed, a very peculiar cause for loving that poor boy, I fancy, God help me"—here the large tears streamed over his old cheeks, that had stood the washing up of many a salt spray—"that I see him now!"
"Where?" said I, like honest Horatio, somewhat startled. He did not notice the interruption.
"I believe he had not an enemy in the world; I am sure he will be lamented by every man and officer in the ship, poor young fellow. But come, gentlemen, enough and to spare of this"—and he rose up, and strode across the cabin, speaking with a forced composure, as we could easily perceive. "We must all die, in a sick bed or in action—either on shore or at sea; and those who, like him, fall while fighting gallantly, are better off than others who drag through a tedious and painful disease. This is trite talking, gentlemen; but it is true—God's will be done! Peace be with him, poor boy; peace be with him."
Thinking he was mad, I several times tried to break in, and disburden my mind of the whole story; but he always waved me down impatiently, and continued to walk backwards and forwards very impetuously.
At length he made a full stop, and looked earnestly in the first lieutenant's face—"He behaved gallantly, and died nobly?—all his wounds in the front?"
I could allow this to go on no longer. "Why, Sir Oliver, young De Walden is not killed, so far as we know."
He gasped—caught my arm convulsively—and burst into a weak hysterical laugh—"Not dead?"
"No, sir; none of us can say that he is dead. He did indeed behave most gallantly through the whole affair; but"——
"But what?" said he—his eyes sparkling, his brows knit, and his features blue and pinched, as if he had seen a spectre—"But what, Mr Brail? for God Almighty's sake, tell me the worst at once."
"Sir Oliver, he is missing."
His hands dropped by his side, as if suddenly struck with palsy; his jaw fell, and his voice became hollow, tremulous, and indistinct, as if the muscles of his lips and tongue had refused to do their office. When he spoke, it seemed as if the words had been formed in his chest—"Missing!"
"Yes, Sir Oliver," said Sprawl, utterly thunderstruck at his superior's conduct—"Mr De Walden is missing."
The old man staggered, and would have fallen, had he not caught hold of the scroll head of the sofa. I thought he had fainted, but he gradually recovered himself, and stood erect. There was a long pause. At length he made a step towards us, and said, with an expression of the most bitter irony—"So, gentlemen, Mr De Walden is missing; the only officer missing is a poor young midshipman; a prisoner amongst these savages, forsooth; a prisoner! Oh, God! I could have brooked hearing of his death;—but a prisoner, and in the power of such an enemy! I bless Heaven, that his poor mother has been spared this misery—would that I had also been in my grave before—But, but"—his tone suddenly became fierce and threatening, and he raised his hand close to my face. I thought he would have struck me—"But how came it, Mr Brail—Mr Sprawl and Mr Lanyard there, I see, are both scathless—but you have been wounded, so I will speak to you—How came it, sir, that he is missing? He must have been deserted, sir—forsaken—left to his fate—and such a fate!—while you, my worthy lieutenants," here he turned round fiercely on his two subalterns, "were wisely looking out for a sound skin and safety."
We were all so utterly taken by surprise at this furious climax to what we began to consider the commodore's insanity, that neither the first lieutenant, Lanyard, nor myself, notwithstanding all that had passed, could speak; which gave Sir Oliver time to breathe and continue in the same tone of fiendlike acerbity—"If I live, you shall both answer for this before a court-martial. Yes; and if you escape there, you shall not escape me."
"Commodore—Sir Oliver," said Sprawl, deeply stung; "by Heaven, Sir Oliver, you will make me forget who I am, and where I am. You do me, you do Mr Lanyard, and the whole of the party engaged, exceeding injustice—the grossest injustice; but I will leave the cabin; I dare not trust myself any longer. I have served with you, Sir Oliver, for seven years, in three different ships, and, to my knowledge, we have never, until this moment, had an angry word together"—and here the noble fellow drew himself up proudly—"and I will yet put it to you yourself, when you are yourself, whether in all that time you ever knew me failing in my duty to my king and country—whether, during the whole seven years, you, sir—ay, or any man in the ships we have served in together—can now lay, or ever attempted to lay, any action or deed at my door derogatory to my character as an officer, or that in any the smallest degree sullied my reputation as a gentleman."
This unlooked-for spunk on old Davie's part startled me, and evidently made a strong impression on the excited nerves of the old commodore; especially as Sprawl followed it up, by slowly adding, while the tears hopped over his iron visage—"But, if it is to be so, I will save you the trouble, Sir Oliver, of bringing me to a court-martial"—he paused for a good space—"Sir Oliver Oakplank, I demand it."
The commodore had by this lain down again on the sofa, with his head resting on the pillow, and his arms clasped on his breast, as if he had been an effigy on a tombstone. For a minute he did not utter a word—at length—"David Sprawl, man and boy, I have known you five-and-twenty years; that your promotion has not kept pace with your merits I regret, almost as much as you yourself can do; but, in the present instance, you knew I had been ill, and at your hands I had expected more"——
"I could not help it, Sir Oliver—I had looked for other things; but mine has been a life of disappointment."
Sir Oliver rallied, and rose, ill as he was, and, stepping up to him, he laid hold of old Bloody Politeful's large bony hand—"Mr Sprawl, I—I beg pardon—illness and anxiety, as I said before, have broke me down; to you and Mr Lanyard I offer my apology; as brave men I know you won't refuse it; bad health is my excuse;—but neither of you can imagine the ties that bound me to that beautiful—that most excellent young man, Henry De Walden."
Dick now thought it was his turn, and made a rally—"Why, Sir Oliver, I am sure that neither Mr Sprawl nor myself would yield, even to you, in regard for him." He shook his head. "Indeed, sir, we both knew the poor boy well; and"—here he plucked up more courage, determined in his own mind apparently that he would clap a stopper on their being ridden rough-shod over in this sort of way—but the commodore, far from showing fight, quietly allowed him to say out his say—"We both knew him well—a finer or a braver lad never stepped; and I fancy, when I say so, I answer not only for Mr Sprawl and myself, but for every man who was with us in this ill-fated expedition. Had his rescue depended on our devoting ourselves, you may rely on it, Sir Oliver, either we should not have been here to tell the story, or he would have been alive to tell his own."
The commodore once more lay back on the sofa, covering his face with his hands—"Go on, Mr Lanyard—go on."
"Why, sir, he was with us, safe and sound, until we crossed the bar. I heard him sing out, 'a good omen—a good omen!' just as we jammed the Spanish schooner that had waylaid us, right down on the bank, in the very middle of the bar; but from that very instant of time no man in the ship saw or heard any thing of him."
The old commodore appeared to be screwing up and gathering all his energies about him.
"Never saw him!—what—did he fall overboard? Tell me—tell me—did he fall overboard?"
"None of us saw him fall overboard, sir;" said I, desirous of making a diversion in favour of my friends, "but after that moment I never saw him alive."
"Alive!" echoed the commodore—"Alive! Did you see him dead, then?"
"No, sir, I think with you he must have gone overboard." There was a long and most irksome pause; at length the commodore broke it.
"Well, well, Benjamin, it cannot be helped, it cannot be helped."
Desirous of preventing another lull in the conversation, I hinted to the commodore that I had been subjected to a very strange delusion of the senses in passing the bar.
"Ay, indeed," said he, with a faint smile—"second sight, I presume—your Scotch star has been in the ascendant—but come, tell the whole story at once."
"I have told it before to Mr Sprawl, Sir Oliver; but really, on reflection, I have some scruples about recapitulating such nonsense at length again."
"Tell it," said Sir Oliver, looking at me with his lack-lustre eye—"tell it."
"Then, sir, I will, although I am quite prepared to be laughed at." I made a pause, for, to say the truth, I was really disinclined to say more on the subject, which I now regretted I had broached; but he waited for me. "We had just cleared the bar, sir, when, on looking up, to see how the sail drew, I saw, holding on by the main haulyards, and with his feet spread out on our long lateen yard, a figure between me and the moonlight sky, as like Mr De Walden's as one could fancy any thing."
"Pray, did any other person see it?"
"No, sir, I don't believe any one else saw it."
"Then," continued the commodore, "it must have been all fancy. How had you lived that morning?"
"Why, sir, I was weak from want of food—indeed fairly worn out. Yet that the object was as palpable to me as if it had really been there, there is no disputing. I was startled at the time, I will confess; but"—here my superstitious feelings again began to rise up,—"he was never seen afterwards."
"Then your simple and entire opinion is—that he is gone?" We bowed our heads in melancholy acquiescence. "Never mind then," said Sir Oliver. "Never mind, God's blessed will be done. But, gentlemen, come and breakfast with me at half past eight." And we found ourselves straightway on deck again.
"I say, friend Sprawl," said I, so soon as we arrived at the upper regions—"have patience with me once more, and tell me seriously, what think you of me as a ghost seer; how do you account for the figure that I saw at the masthead?"
"In this very simple way, Benjie, as I told you before, that, at the best, you are an enthusiast; but in the present instance, being worn out by fatigue and starvation, you really and truly fancied you saw what was uppermost in your mind, and, so far as your excited fancy was concerned,—why, you did see it. But come down below—come down below. Let us go and rig for our appearance before the commodore. So come along." And straight we dived into the gunroom.
I had, verily, as my excellent friend Sprawl said, been much excited, and while we were below, I had time to gather my thoughts about me. My first feeling was, that I had done very foolishly in telling my absurd story to the commodore; my second, that I had, which was really the simple fact, been imposed on by a false impression on my senses.
"Donovan, my darling," said I, addressing our friend, who was lying in his berth close to us, "I can forgive you now for being mad a bit, Dennis, dear."
"Come now, Brail, no quizzing, if you please; I am deuced weak yet."
We made our toilet, and presently we were in the cabin again. Sir Oliver, when we entered, was sitting at the breakfast table. He had dressed; and although he was still very pale, there was nothing peculiar in his manner, if it were not that he was, if any thing, kinder than usual. He led the conversation as far away from the recent expedition as he decently could, until breakfast was nearly over, when he suddenly addressed me. "Do you think, Mr Brail, since you saw him last, that there is any, the remotest chance of that poor boy being alive? Would it, in your opinion, be of any avail our hovering off the coast for a few days, and sending in the boats occasionally?"
I looked at old Bloody Politeful, who thereupon took the word up.
"No, commodore, I believe the poor boy is gone. I conceive it would be lost time remaining here in the hope of his being alive."
"Enough, enough," said Sir Oliver. And from that time forth, he never, in my hearing at least, mentioned his name.