I came down on deck, where Willie was giving orders for the other surf-boat to be manned and to go ashore, as he was sure that if possible my father would come on board, as the weather was now very threatening.
I begged and prayed to be allowed to go; but Willie said no, I was to stay on board. I did not feel inclined to obey, and just as the boat was going to shove off I jumped into her, and as time was pressing, the wind and sea both rising rapidly, Willie did not insist on my coming back.
Before we had got half-way ashore it was blowing very hard indeed, and Fore-topsail two or three times wished to put back to the brig; but I taunted him with being afraid, and he said, “Me no fraid, lilly massa, but surf make plenty bad. S’pose boat capsize and massa drown, what capen say?”
“Never mind; the captain wants to get on board. Give way, give way!”
“Bery good.—Pull, boys, pull,” he answered, and the boat’s crew bent to their paddles with renewed energy. But do all that they could, they could not make the place for entering the surf abreast of Mr. Macarthy’s factory, but were driven up to where Pentlea had landed the night before. We had taken so long to reach this spot that the sun had already set before we headed direct for the beach.
The first line of breakers was passed in safety. We were about to cross the second when a squall came down, accompanied by heavy rain; and notwithstanding all Fore-topsails struggles at the steer oar, we were broadside on, and in another instant we were all struggling in the water.
I have an idea of struggling and of the sound as of thousands of tons of water being dashed over me, but I very soon lost all consciousness. When I came to myself I found I was in a small room lighted only by a small hole about six inches square, through which the rays of the moon were pouring, and I could see by them that the place was perfectly empty. My clothes were wet, and I was cold and shivering, and had a racking headache. At first I lay quite still, feeling too bad to have any interest in where I was or what had happened to me; but soon I began to think, and then I remembered leaving the brig, and the capsizing of the surf-boat.
Where was I? and what had happened since the capsize? became now pressing problems to be solved. I was not drowned, nor, as far as I could make out, injured; but who could have put me in this wretched cell without anything to lie on, and without even changing my wet clothes? I must have been saved by some one from drowning; but whoever that some one was, he did not seem to care much about my comfort.
I got up from the corner where I was lying and began to examine my prison—for such I supposed the place I was in must be—and could only feel the rough planks of which the walls and door were composed, and quantities of dust, of cockroaches as big as young sparrows, and of other loathsome insects.
The little hole through which the moon shone was high up, and it was with great difficulty that I managed to jump up so as to hook my fingers on the lower edge and draw myself up and look out. Outside was a deep veranda, and I could see the beach, and the surf thundering in, and beyond the ships lying at anchor, rolling about, their black spars showing distinctly against the bright moonlight. I puzzled to make out which was the Petrel, but at last I did so, and then I knew by her position with regard to the others that I must be in Souza’s factory. I hung on as long as I could, and counting the vessels at anchor in a mechanical way, I made out that two topsail schooners had come in since I left the Petrel. I could not remain long at the window, and I slid down, and soon found that combating the cockroaches, which were flying about, hitting me in the face and sticking in my hair, gave me a considerable amount of employment; and notwithstanding that my clothes were still wet, I soon was bathed in perspiration.