A few days after coming to anchor Dutchy had communicated to me his intention of deserting from the ship. He had made me his confidant, in hopes that I might join him in the enterprise—for the poor fellow knew there was not another on board who had ever spoken to him a word of sympathy. This I had done, and, consequently, had won his regard. He knew, moreover, that I, too was a persecuted victim; and, therefore, believed I might be as willing as himself to get away beyond the reach of the common tyrant. It is true I was so, but the advice of my patron Brace had rendered me content to wait for a better opportunity—to wait for our arrival upon the other side of the Atlantic. I had made up my mind to endure till then; knowing that a voyage from the west coast of Africa to the Brazils, the destination of the Pandora, would be but a few weeks in duration, and confident, from what Brace had promised me, that there I should part from the hated crew.
For these reasons I refused to accede to Dutchy’s proposal, and endeavoured to dissuade him from his design; advising him also to wait for our arrival on the other side.
My counsels proved vain. Flesh and blood could stand it no longer. The poor fellow had been persecuted to the utmost limit of endurance, until he could endure no more; and, under the impulse of despair, he made his fatal attempt.
One night, when nearly all on board were asleep, a plunge was heard close by the side of the vessel, as of some one who had fallen or leaped into the water. The cry of “a man overboard!” was heard from the few who were awake on the watch; and echoed from mouth to mouth, till the sleepers—most of whom were on deck in their hammocks—were aroused.
The night was almost as clear as day—for there was a full round moon in the heavens; and up to this time there had been perfect stillness and silence. The men, wondering who had gone overboard, rushed to the side, and looked into the water. A small, black object above the surface indicated the head of a man. It was in motion, and a slight plashing noise, with the long ripple made upon the water, showed that some one was in the river and swimming with all his might for the shore.
Perhaps some one had seen poor Dutchy as he made this fatal plunge, for at that moment the cry was given out that it was he who was endeavouring to escape.
Both mate and captain were on the alert. On account of the heat they, too, had been sleeping in hammocks swung over the quarter-deck, and in a moment they had sprung out upon their feet. Both ran to arm themselves; and before the deserter had made half-way to the bank his tyrants were leaning over the side, each grasping a loaded musket.
Either would have been in good time to have sent a bullet through the unfortunate victim; but though his blood was to be on their heads, it was not destined that he should die by their hands.
Before either had time to take aim, a second ripple was observed in the water—running diagonally to that made by the swimmer—and at the head of this ripple, and causing it, was seen a long dark, monster-like form.
“A crocodile! a crocodile!” shouted the men upon the barque.