“He is one of my crew, and you have no business to interfere with him,” he answered.
Mr McDonald replied, that he could not but say that this was the case, but that the lad had accompanied them, and they felt themselves answerable for his safe return.
The captain, however, would not listen, but continued shouting out his orders to the men, who obeyed them with more alacrity than usual.
I could not help thinking that they rejoiced at having thus easily got rid of Mark. For my own part I regretted not having run away also, and shared his fate, whatever that might have been. Had the distance not been so great, I should, even now, have jumped overboard and tried to join him. But the attempt would have been equivalent to suicide, and I dared not make it.
Away stood the ship out of the harbour, leaving my old friend all alone on the desert island. I pictured to myself his horror and disappointment at not seeing me; the miseries and hardships he might endure for want of food and companionship, and his too probable early death. I went about my duty in a disconsolate mood. I had now no friend to talk to. Not one of the men appeared to pity me. Even Julius Caesar uttered no word of comfort. We soon lost sight of the Falkland Islands and shaped a course to round Cape Horn. The ship was now surrounded by albatrosses, penguins, and pintado birds. Several were shot, and others taken with a hook and bait. An enormous albatross was thus hauled in, and being brought on deck fought bravely for some time before it could be killed.
Chapter Seventeen.
South Sea whaler—I write a letter home, and how far it got on its way there—The Earl of Lollipop—Mr McTavish saves me from a flogging—My prospects somewhat improve—Another storm—We lose another man—A struggle for life—Tierra del Fuego—Cape Horn—In the Pacific—The coast of Patagonia, and how we nearly got wrecked—Juan Fernandez—Robinson Crusoe’s Island—I again determine to run away, but am prevented by an offer I receive—“Shark! Shark!”—A narrow escape—Valparaiso—Callao—Paita—The Sandwich Islands—The king and his court—Royal guests—Some queer dishes—Pooah—Am again prevented from deserting—Columbia River at last—A glimpse of freedom—A farewell dinner—An untoward incident—Once more a prisoner—My captors’ fears my only safety—My friends give up the search—At sea again—My release—“Dis curious ship.”
We had left the island for some days, when we fell in with a homeward-bound South Sea whaler. As the ocean was calm, and the wind light, her captain came on board and politely offered to convey any message or letters home. “Now,” I thought, “will be an excellent opportunity of returning home. I’m sick of this life, and shall be glad to go back to Mr Butterfield’s office and the high stool, and listen to Aunt Deb’s lectures.” How to accomplish my purpose was the difficulty. I went up to the captain of the whaler.