Without another word, Mate Storms made a bounding plunge after him, leaving the young captain to manage the craft as best he could. The latter uttered a sharp command which brought the crew to their feet in an instant, and, in an incredibly short space of time, the proa came around, and, scarcely losing any headway, moved back toward the spot where the demented man had sprung into the sea, which was now a long distance astern.
It was a startling awaking for Abram Storms, who did his utmost for his unfortunate captain. The mate was a splendid swimmer, and, plunging forward with a powerful stroke, he called to his friend again and again, frequently lifting himself far out of the water, when on the crest of a swell, and straining his eyes to pierce the moonlight about him, hoping to catch sight of the figure of the captain, who was also a strong swimmer. But if he had jumped overboard with the intention of suicide, it was not to be supposed he would continue swimming. The mate, however, was hopeful that in that awful minute when he went beneath the waters, something like a realizing sense of what he had done would come to him and he would struggle to save himself.
But, alas, for poor Captain Jack Bergen, who had 222 journeyed so many thousand miles, and had endured such a long imprisonment upon a lonely island! He sent back no answering shout to the repeated calls of his mate, whose eyes failed to catch sight of his gray head as he rose and sank for a brief while on the water.
When Fred Sanders got the proa about he guided its movements by the sound of the mate’s voice, and, in a short while, he ran alongside and assisted him on board. Nothing had been seen nor heard of the captain, and there could be no doubt now that he was gone forever. Nevertheless, the proa continued cruising around the place for fully an hour, in widening circles, until all were convinced that not a particle of hope remained, when they filled away again, and a long, last farewell was uttered to Captain Jack Bergen.
He had procured a fortune in a comparatively easy manner, and it looked for a time as if the payment was small; but the price demanded now was his life, and what more can a man give, excepting his soul?––which, most happily, was not the case with him.
During these minutes of excitement, Inez Hawthorne slept soundly, and she never knew anything of the sad occurrence until the morrow was well advanced. Her grief prostrated her for many hours, for 223 she was a child unusually affectionate by nature, and she had been tenderly attached to the captain, who had been such a father to her.
It spread a gloom over the boat, as may be said, the only ones who showed no sorrow in their countenances being the dusky islanders, who seemed to take everything as it came along as a matter of course, and who obeyed the Caucasian captain like so many machines under the control of an engineer.
Fred Sanders was thoughtful, and, what was rather curious, had little to say to Inez during the first portion of the day. He uttered a few words of sympathy when she sought to restrain her tears, but after that he kept very much to himself, as if there was some new and important matter on his mind, as was indeed the case.
It will be remembered that the expectation was that the voyage of the proa would terminate that night by their arrival at their destination, but the delay caused by the moderate wind and the search for the lost captain led Mate Storms to feel some doubt, and he asked Captain Sanders his view of the matter.
“I can’t tell you anything about it!”