'It was too awful,' said Gilbert, who had come below to tell the ladies that which had happened above, since to keep silence on the subject was useless, in consequence of the turmoil in the ship which had accompanied the poor creature's last moments. 'He died a raving maniac--nothing short of that. You heard his howls and yells after we had got him safely tied up; we saw a sight that I, at least--and I should think everybody else--hope never to see again. Even roped as he was, his leaps and convulsions were something shocking. Thank God, they soon came to an end. I believe he died of the exhaustion caused by his mania.'
'What is to become of us all?' asked Mrs. Pooley sadly. 'What? The ship moves only by the current; my husband said just now that, if things go on and get worse, there will be none left to control her when the wind does come.'
'The trouble is,' said Gilbert, 'that, if they make sail when the wind springs up, there may be no men to take it in if that wind comes on too strong. And, at all events, it will be serious if more men are attacked. I have offered my services in any capacity if wanted, and will serve either as officer or man if Captain Pooley will let me.'
Bella threw an admiring glance at her lover in approval of what she, in her own mind, probably considered his noble disinterestedness; then she said:
'But surely all are not going to be attacked one after another in this way? And if so, uncle can't possibly think of trying to get to Bombay when the wind does come.'
'I have suggested the same thing to him that Fagg did this afternoon--namely, the Seychelles. They're all right, and the climate is first-rate for the tropics. He says, however, he will see what happens by the time we get a wind. He won't give in if no more men are attacked.'
Meanwhile, even as he spoke, each of the trio were occupied with thoughts which they would not have cared to put into language. Mrs. Pooley's were those good wifely reflections which busied themselves only with her husband's interests, and were disturbed by considerations of what a loss to him the delay would produce should it be further prolonged. Yet, there was also growing upon her, if it were not already full-grown--as was now the case with all others in the ship--a gruesome, indefinable horror of what might be the outcome of this strange affliction that had fallen on the vessel. Suppose, she had asked herself a hundred times in common with all the others on board--the sailors alone expressing their thoughts openly--suppose everyone in the Emperor succumbed to this blindness! What then would happen, even if it were not followed by death? Would they drift about the ocean helplessly if the calm continued, until they were seen and rescued by some other vessel; or, if a strong gale came up, would they--with no one capable of so much as steering the ship be shipwrecked and sent to the bottom? While, as to the horrible idea of death following on blindness, and the Emperor of the Moon drifting about, a floating catacomb--that was not to be thought about! It was too fearful a thing to reflect upon and still preserve one's sanity. Yet, all the same, not only was it thought about but talked about among the sailors, while many ideas were propounded as to what was to be done ere the worst came to the worst. As for Bella, her reflections were all of one kind, and one only. Would Gilbert be spared! For herself she cared but little, though she would scarcely have been the brave, womanly girl she was if she had not repined at the dark cloud which had now settled down over the existence of her lover and herself, and which threatened, if it continued to hover over them and their fortunes, to darken that existence still more. Further than this she did not dare to look, and, consequently, could only pray fervently that the cloud might be lifted ere long, even as she strove to force herself to believe that such would undoubtedly be the case.
Yet Gilbert's meditations were perhaps the most melancholy and bitter of any of the three persons now assembled in the saloon--brave, self-reliant young officer as he was, and full of hope and belief in many happy years still to come and to be passed in the possession of a beautiful and devoted wife, as well as in the service of a glorious profession. For he could not disguise from, nor put away from, his mind the recollection that, with his coming into this ship, with his rescue, there had come also that intangible, mysterious disease which was striking down those around him one by one at extremely short intervals; and, although he knew that he was no more responsible for its presence than if he had never been found in that accursed dhow, he began to think that there were many in the Emperor of the Moon who would regard him as being more or less so. Which, in truth, was a weak supposition, born in his usually strong, clear head by the calamities now happening with great frequency one after the other; a supposition shared by no one else in the ship. For--as he himself knew very well, yet took no comfort in knowing--had he not been in the dhow her other inhabitants would have been rescued all the same and taken off by Pooley, and would have brought on board with them the infection which was now supposed to be at the root of the disasters that were happening.
The meditations of all three were now, however, disturbed by the descent of Stephen Charke to the saloon, he being about to eat his evening meal before taking the first watch. As usual and, almost, it seemed, unjustly so--since never had he said any further words to Bella which she could construe into an approach to anything dealing with his regard for her--his appearance was unwelcome to her. He seemed, however, to be entirely oblivious of what her sentiments towards him might be, and, after giving a slight bow to both ladies, rang the bell for the steward to bring him his supper. Then, as he seated himself at the table, he said:
'I fancy we shall have to avail ourselves of your offer of service after all, Lieutenant Bampfyld, and in spite of our having refused it an hour ago. Fagg,' he went on, as he cut himself a crust from the loaf, 'is attacked with blindness now.'