'By-the-by,' he said, 'another strange thing has happened. That infernal tiger-cub of Miss Waldron's--her pet!--seems going the same way as the others. It is crawling about the foredeck in a half-blind fashion, and evidently can't see signs made before its eyes. As far as the little beast goes, I shouldn't mind seeing it fall through one of the scuppers back into the sea it was dragged out of. It was rather rubbish to save it at all!'
The words 'that infernal tiger-cub of Miss Waldron's' grated somewhat on Gilbert's feelings, as did also the brutality of the remark about its falling into the sea. Why this was so he did not know, unless it was that he had seen the interest Bella took in the little creature, and in feeding it and calling every one's attention to the extraordinary manner in which it seemed to grow almost hourly. Nevertheless, the observation did grate on him, and he began to tell himself that he did not care much for Stephen Charke. However, like a good many other young naval officers, he had thoroughly learnt the excellent system of controlling his thoughts in silence, wherefore, without making any further remark than saying that he was sorry to hear about 'Bengalee,' he went on his way towards Mr. Fagg's cabin, leaving the first mate to finish his supper by himself.
He left him, also, to some strange meditations which, had they been uttered aloud in the presence of any listener, might have caused that person to imagine that he was the recipient of the babblings of a visionary. Put into words those musings would have taken some such form as this:--
'Supposing this malady or pestilence, or whatever it is, should be followed by madness and death, as was the case with the negroes. And supposing also that, among those who are struck, our friend Lieutenant Bampfyld--the future Lord D'Abernon!--should be one. What happens? Bella'--for so he dared to call her in his thoughts and to himself--'Bella is deprived of him. Suppose, also, that the whole management of the ship falls into my hands; Pooley may be attacked, too--then--then--then----' But here his mental ramblings had to come to a conclusion, because, wild as his riotous thoughts were, his mind was clear enough to perceive that he was just as likely to be attacked by the blindness as was either Pooley or Bampfyld. While he saw very plainly that so, too, was Bella. And this pulled his meditations up with a jerk, since he could imagine nothing more horrible that could occur now than that the majority of all the men on board should remain sound and unstricken, and capable of working the Emperor of the Moon safely into some port or other, while the beautiful girl whom he worshipped and adored so much should succumb to the hateful affliction.
'Oh, my God!' he almost moaned aloud, 'if--if she should be the next. If she should be taken and we left. How--how could I endure that?' And then, because he was a man with the best of impulses beneath all the gall which had arisen in his heart at losing the girl he had once hoped so much to win, he moaned once more: 'Not that--not that. Spare her, at least, Heaven! Spare her, even though I have to stand by and see him win her after all. Spare her! Spare her!'
CHAPTER XIV
[STRUCK DOWN]
But still the days went on and no wind came--the one thing which, even now, after they had been becalmed for nearly a week, might have saved the ship from any fearful calamity that was at last, almost without a doubt, in store for her. For, according to their reckonings, taken regularly both by aid of the brilliant sun which still poured down its vertical rays upon them, and also by the use of a cherub log which they possessed, as well as the ordinary ones, the current had drifted them some three hundred miles north, so that they had consequently the northern coast of Madagascar on their port bow, as well as the Aldabra Islands, and with Galega, Providence and Farquhar Islands almost directly ahead of them.
Only--the wind would not come, and the ship lay upon the water as motionless, except for the current, as though she had been fixed upon the solid and firm-set earth. And, meanwhile, the blindness which had seized upon one man after another was still continuing its progress, and more than half--indeed, three-parts--of the complement of the Emperor of the Moon were now sightless. Of seventeen sailors, eleven were down with this terrible, paralysing affliction, as well as one officer, Mr. Fagg; so that, if now the long-hoped-for breeze should spring up, there were scarcely enough men in the whole vessel to set the sails, even including Pooley--who certainly could not go aloft with safety!--and Charke and Gilbert; while, presuming all of them could do so and the wind should freshen much, they would undoubtedly be far from able to take them in again. And then the result must be swift--undoubted--deadly. The ship would rush to her destruction, would be beyond all control; she would either go over under the force of the elements, or be dashed to pieces on some solitary coral island which she might encounter in her mad, ungovernable flight. Consequently, there remained but one chance, and one only, for her, that chance being to forgo the advantage of the wind when it came at last, and to let her drift under bare poles until they were seen, and perhaps rescued, by a passing vessel. But, again there arose the fear in all hearts, as already it had done before--namely, would any other ship which might encounter them be willing to take on board men in such a plight as they were, and suffering from a disease that none could venture to doubt must be contagious?
Meantime, the life in the vessel itself was, possibly, the strangest form of existence which has prevailed for many a long sea-voyage. For she was subject to no stress whatever of weather, the elements were all in favour of her safety, if not her progress; she was comfortable and easy and well found with everything of the best--since, in the Emperor of the Moon, there was neither rotten pork nor weevily biscuits for old shellbacks to grumble and curse at and mutiny over, as those who wish to make the sailor dissatisfied with his lot are too often fond of representing to be the case--every one was well housed and well provided with good, wholesome food. Yet, all the same, she was a stricken ship--stricken, in truth, by the visitation of God; smitten by the hand of God with a curse which none could understand or explain. Fortunately, however--if the word Fortune may be used in connection with those now in her!--this curse seemed to have stopped at the blindness--though God knows that was bad enough! Death did not seem to be following after it, nor madness, nor delirium, as had been the case with the others--certainly as death had been. Those who were down lay in their berths, blind, it is true; but otherwise there was nothing else the matter with them; and, since they were ministered to by those who, up to now, had themselves escaped the visitation, they did not suffer in any other way.