“Yes; did you? What can it be?” he answered. “Ah! there’s another—it cannot be fancy.”
“No; I heard it distinctly,” I remarked. “There is some mischief going forward, I fear. What is to be done?” Again that faint, wailing cry of distress reached our ears.
“You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?” said Jerry. “If there were such things, I should fancy that those cries were uttered by them, and nothing else.”
“Nonsense, Jerry,” said I, half vexed with him, for I saw that he was inclined to give way to superstition. “If those sounds are not the effect of fancy, they must proceed from some human beings in distress; but what can be the matter is more than I can say.” We found, on going forward, that Ben Yool had heard the cries, and was still listening, wondering what caused them. They had also reached the ears of the native seamen. They declared that they must be caused by the spirits of the storm roaming over the water, and that we should have a heavy gale before long. Again a shriek reached us, louder and more thrilling than before.
“Oh, this is dreadful!” I exclaimed. “There must be some foul mischief going on somewhere not far off. We must call up Mr Brand, and see what steps he will think fit to take.” I went and roused him up, and told him of the strange sounds we had heard. Both he and the doctor were soon on deck. At first he laughed at our description of the sounds we had heard; but after he had listened a little time, another long, deep-drawn wail came wafted across the ocean.
“That is the cry of some one in mortal fear or agony,” he remarked. “There is another!” It was a sharp, loud cry, or rather shriek.
“The calmness of the sea and the peculiar state of the atmosphere would enable a sound to travel from a long distance,” observed McRitchie. “It may come from a spot a mile, or even two miles off.”
“We must try and find out the direction, and go to the help of the poor people, whoever they are,” exclaimed Mr Brand.
“How is that to be done?” asked the doctor. “Our cockleshell of a boat will only hold three or four people, and the chances are that some ruffianly work is going on, and we shall only share the fate of the victims.”
“It must be done, though,” answered Cousin Silas. “I cannot stay quietly here when perhaps our appearance may prevent further mischief. I will go in the boat, and I daresay I shall have volunteers to accompany me.”