“You are mistaken in that,” said I, feeling the importance of keeping him quiet till he could be got on board. “If that is the Mignonne, she has been captured, and is in possession of a British crew. You’ll see that I am right directly.”
The ship was shortening sail as I spoke. We were soon alongside. Even at a distance our pitiable condition had been observed. We were one after the other hoisted on deck, for even Kelson could scarcely get up without help. I gave a hint to the doctor to look after O’Carroll. “I am right,” I remarked to my friend. “If La Roche is on board, he is safe under hatches; so the best thing you can do is to turn in, and go to sleep. You want rest more than any of us.”
Led by the surgeon, he went quietly below, and I hoped with soothing medicine and sleep would be soon all to rights again.
The ship proved to be, not what Kelson had supposed, but a vessel with free emigrants bound out to the rising town of Sydney, in New South Wales—a colony generally called Botany Bay, established some few years before, by Captain Phillips of the navy, chiefly with convicts and the necessary soldiers to look after them. We had just told our tale, and the passengers had expressed their sympathy for us, when I heard Jacotot give a loud cry of dismay. On looking over the side the cause was explained—the masts of our unhappy little craft were just disappearing under the surface. This was the natural consequence of our neglecting to pump her out, and the ship, which was going ahead, dragging her through the water, when of course it rushed in through her open seams with redoubled speed. Poor Jacotot tore his hair and wrung his hands, and wept tears of grief for his wretched craft; but he did not gain as much sympathy as would have been shown him had he been more quiet, though our new friends congratulated us the more warmly in having got out of her before she met her fate. Food and rest quickly set most of us to rights, and the following day William and Trundle and I were able to take our places at the cabin table with the rest of the passengers. O’Carroll was kept in bed with fever, though he had got over his idea that La Roche was on board. The old gentleman he had mistaken for him proved to be a minister of the gospel, who had been invited to accompany a party of the emigrants.
We found that things were not going on in at all a satisfactory way on board. The master had died before the ship reached the Cape: the first officer, Mr Gregson, who had now charge, was obstinate and self-opinionated when sober, and he was very frequently intoxicated; the second was a stupid fellow and no navigator; and both were jealous of the third, who was a superior, intelligent young man, and in numerous ways they did their utmost to annoy him. This accounted for the good ship, the Kangaroo, being very much out of her proper course, which was far to the southward of where she picked us up. Most disastrous consequences were to occur. William and Trundle told me that they had been making their observations; that they wondered how the ship had got thus far, and that they should be much surprised if she got much farther. A very large proportion of the ships cast away and lives sacrificed are so in consequence of the habitual intoxication of the masters and their officers. I venture to make this distinct assertion from the very numerous instances I have known and heard of. We did not wish to alarm the passengers, none of whom had been at sea before, and were not aware of the danger they were running. Had our schooner still floated, I should have proposed taking her to the first island we could make and there repairing her. We asked Mr Gregson if he would undertake to land us at Port Louis, offering him at the same time payment if he would do so; but he positively refused, declaring that nothing should induce him to go out of his course, and that we must stick to the ship and work our passage till she reached her destination.
Believing that, as he was short-handed, his object in detaining us was to get more hands to work the ship, this we positively refused to do. “Very well, then, we’ll see who is master on board the Kangaroo,” he replied, with an oath. “You tell me that three of you belong to a man-of-war; but I find you in a French boat, and how do I know that you are not deserters or convicts? and I’ll treat you as such if you don’t look out.” This conduct was so unexpected, and so different from the kind way in which we had been treated by the passengers, that we did not know what to say. We agreed to wait till we could consult O’Carroll; and Trundle undertook to get a look at the chart the captain was using, and to try and find out where he had placed the ship. The wind had hitherto continued very light, so that we had made but little way since we came on board. The day following the unpleasant conversation I have described, O’Carroll was so much recovered that he was able to come on deck. Though Irishmen have not the character in general of being good seamen, I considered from what I had seen of him that he was an exception to the general rule. I told him what we had remarked.
“When the time comes I’ll see what I can do,” he answered; “but it is ticklish work interfering with such fellows as the present master of this ship, unless one advises the very thing one does not want done.”
“We may soon require the exercise of your skill,” I remarked. “It appears to me that there will speedily be a change in the weather.”
“Little doubt about that, and we shall have it hot and strong again soon,” he answered, looking round the horizon.
“Not another hurricane, I hope,” said I.