When the door of the cabin was closed upon him, after having sat for a time in a deep meditation, he knocked from within and asked the man who kept guard without, for a piece of chalk, which, after some delay, was given to him. With it he began to draw algebraical figures on the boards that partitioned his cabin prison, and seemed engrossed in some deep calculation. In this manner the afternoon passed. When the short tropical twilight came and went, and he was no longer capable of seeing his figures, he seated himself down again and remained so until late in the night, when he stretched himself on the deck for the purpose of going to sleep.
He had not lain down long before the door of the cabin was silently opened, and an individual closely wrapped in a boat-cloak entered. The cloak was immediately thrown off, and, by the light of a small lantern which the stranger carried, Appadocca saw before him Charles Hamilton, his friend.
“Welcome, Charles!” said Appadocca, affecting more than usual lightsomeness, “welcome to my narrow quarters,” at the same time, casting his eyes around the close cabin, which, for the time being, constituted his prison.
“Hush! Emmanuel,” said the commander’s son, “and, for G—d’s sake, do not speak in such a trivial manner, when you are in such a dangerous position. Tell me,” he continued, while the most impatient anxiety could be detected in his tone, “tell me how you could have brought yourself to this melancholy pass.”
“’Twere long to tell, and sad to trace,” replied Appadocca, “as your own most noble and illustrious countryman has it.... But you seem to be entirely cast down with anxiety—bah! banish that, and if you can accommodate yourself on this hard deck, sit down and we shall have a little conversation on ‘the happy days gone by.’”
“Happy, indeed, they were, Emmanuel, and little did I dream when we pursued our studies together, and when I, together with the others, almost worshipped the intellect with which heaven has blessed you, that I should ever have met you as a prisoner on board my father’s ship, accused, too, of such a grave offence as piracy.” This was spoken with such deep feeling, that Appadocca could scarcely continue his tone of assumed gaiety.
“But what is this Emmanuel?” asked Charles, as his eyes met the figures which Appadocca had traced. “Calculations? must I believe that your cynicism can have made you think so lightly of the sad doom which hangs over you as to permit you to work equations and solve problems at this moment?”
“Now, since you are bent upon being very serious,” answered Appadocca, “pray accommodate yourself and I shall speak to you, and as to those calculations, they concern you more than you imagine. Let your ship be in a safe harbour within these two weeks to come: a comet will be visible in seven days’ time, near the constellation of the Southern Cross; the hurricane that will follow at its tail, will be more than many ships will be able to bear. Now sit down.”
The young officer sat down.
“You ask me,” began Appadocca, with his characteristic gravity, which had now returned, “first, how it has happened that I originally found myself a pirate, cruising in the Caribean sea; and, secondly, a prisoner on board your father’s ship. I regret much that even friendship should have interposed to elicit from me a narrative, which I have always desired to carry with me to the—scaffold now, I suppose. Nevertheless, now that I am on the brink of destruction, it may be well to let the world know the cause of my conduct towards the individual whom an unhappy accident made my father;—which conduct, I admit, may now look strange and criminal.