Dr Cuff, meantime, was doing his best to restore the captain to a state of consciousness, and after a time he once more made his appearance on deck. His temper was not improved; but the doctor had so far alarmed him by putting clearly before him the inevitable result of his intemperance, that he appeared more inclined than usual to remain sober.
“Our captain is the most miserable man on board the ship,” observed Mr Henley, as we saw him walking up and down on the poop, muttering to himself, and wildly waving his arms about. “He is suffering all the horrors of the drunkard deprived of the stimulants to which he has accustomed himself. Indescribable horrors—dreadful recollections of the past—fears of the present—anticipations of coming evil, not the less fearful because indefinite and uncertain! O Marsden, as you value your peace and happiness here and hereafter, avoid every temptation which may lead you to drink, and do your utmost to warn your friends and all you meet of the dangers of intemperance.”
A day or two after this, when the sun arose, we found ourselves becalmed little more than a couple of miles from a small island, apparently about three or four miles in length, with trees and rocks, and a high conical hill rising up in the centre. There appeared some islets about it but a few hundred yards across, scarcely elevated above the level of the sea. When the captain and first mate came on deck they examined them narrowly with their telescopes, and were seen to talk together earnestly for some time. Breakfast was just over when the captain observed to Mr Henley—
“There are fine turtle to be got on these islands. Fresh meat would be a good thing for the people, who are getting sickly for want of it, and not a bad thing for us. What say you to taking a boat and trying to catch a few? There is Johnny Spratt and one or two other men well accustomed to the work. Take them with you. You’ll have plenty of time; these calms often last many days.”
The second mate said that he would be very happy to go, and instantly set about getting a boat ready.
“You’ll like to go, Marsden,” said the captain to me, in a good-natured tone of voice.
Of course it was just the thing I wished to do. I bethought me of taking my sketch-book with me; but I could not find it, and so I carried off the book in which I wrote my journal, as it would serve my purpose. As I went on deck I saw the first mate send Johnny Spratt and Tommy Bigg into the boat, but his doing so did not at the moment excite my suspicions.
“Come, shove off, lads,” he sung out, looking over the side.
“Stay,” said Mr Henley, ascending on deck again, “I never go away in a boat without a compass, and provisions, and water. A fog may come on, or we may be benighted, or a breeze might spring up, and we might have some difficulty in getting on board again.”
Mr Grimes made no answer to this remark, but turned away whistling. Mr Henley had, I found, put together a number of things, which were handed into the boat. I slung my spyglass over my shoulder, and, thinking that I might get a good shot at some birds, filled my powder-flask and shot-belt, and rifle in hand, followed by Solon, stepped into the boat. I took one oar and Spratt another, and we had two black men whom the chief mate had observed were first-rate hands at turning turtles. Mr Henley had brought the boat’s masts and sails, because, as he observed, a breeze might spring up, and we might find them useful. As we pulled away from the Orion I could not help admiring her size and build, and regretting that she was not better commanded.