“I’ll be everlastin’ly dumbswizzled!” burst out Cap’n Pem. “Derned ef we ain’t shipped another peg-leg!”
The next instant the old negro rushed forward and threw himself upon the beach groveling at Pem’s feet.
“Hi, there! Git up!” cried the whaleman. “We ain’t no Saints! Jes’ o’nary whalemen. How be ye anyhow? Reckon we’re in time, eh? Feared we’d fin’ ye dead an’ gone.”
With tears of emotion trickling over his emaciated, ebon cheeks, and with wildly rolling eyes and in broken tones, the negro poured out incoherent thanks and blessings and was so overcome that two of the men were obliged to carry him bodily into the shack. Here, on an improvised couch of moss, dried seaweed and bird skins the castaway was placed, and Cap’n Pem hurriedly poured a stiff draft of whiskey down his throat while Ned and the men quickly kindled a fire and proceeded to heat coffee and tinned soup. Between the liquor and the steaming food the old negro quickly revived and managed to control his emotions somewhat. Cap’n Pem told him how they had learned of his plight, but by Ned’s command he was not permitted to talk; although all were filled with curiosity to learn his story, and the castaway was compelled to content himself with muttering, “Thank de Lord A’mighty! De Lord shure does watch over his pore sinners! Oh, Lor’ is I save’ at las’!”
“Doc,” Ned, as the men called him, declared that the castaway was in no condition to be moved and that he must have several days of rest and good feeding before undertaking the trip in the open boat. The wound of which he had spoken in his message, had partly healed, but he was very weak from suffering and lack of food and now that he was rescued he seemed quite content to lie still and be nursed back to health and strength. Gradually too, he told them of his life upon the island: how he had managed to eke out a living by catching crabs and shellfish, and later on by albatross and penguin eggs; and how he had captured the albatross and had utilized a broken telescope which he had found in the hut as a box or container for the message.
“How did you happen to think of sending the message that way, Sam?” asked Tom. “There wasn’t one chance in a million that any one would find it.”
“I seed a ship a-sailin’ away fra El’funt Islan’,” replied the negro, “an’ I knows as how she must’a’ lef’ men there an’ I knows as how these albatrosses do smell dead meat for a pow’ful long ways, an’ I thinks like as not if you was a-killin’ the el’funts this ol’ bird mought go over yander for de food an’ some man mought see the canvas a-danglin’ from he laig an’ cotch he; an’ praise the Lord A’mighty, you did.”
Cap’n Pem was anxious to return to the camp as soon as possible and fumed and grumbled, although “Doc” Ned declared that three days should be enough rest for Sam with the good care he was receiving. But when the third day came, a gale was blowing and lashing the sea to fury and departure was impossible.
“Ding-bust the weather!” exploded Cap’n Pem, when on the next day, the gale still howled about the shack and cold rain and sleet beat like shrapnel on its roof. “Didn’t I tell ye we’d have bad luck,—arter that there bo’sun bird come aboard! Wouldn’t be s’prised ef this ’ere dumfoozled sto’m lasted all summer. Reckon we’ll be shipwracked oursel’s here!”
“But we haven’t had bad luck,” Jim reminded him. “I think we’ve had mighty good luck, to get that message and save Sam.”