The little schooner very soon got her cargo on board, and we then put to sea, to return to the brig. We had to make a long reach off-shore to weather a headland, which ran out towards the north, and we were just about to tack when the wind, which had been very light, failed us altogether. There we lay, with our sides lazily lapping up the burnished water, and throwing it off again in showers of sparkling drops, as we rolled away helplessly in the swell. At the same time a strong current was running, which was setting us imperceptibly off-shore. However, after having been exposed to it for three or four hours, I found, on looking up, that we had very much increased our distance from the land. The day passed away and the night came, and there we lay like a log in the water, drifting further and further from the land.
It was truly a solemn night. Every star which floated in the vast expanse above us was reflected on the surface of the deep; and as I looked over the side, I fancied that I could see numberless bright orbs floating far, far down in the limpid water. Strange sounds reached my ears. Suppressed shrieks, and groans, and cries—loud hisses, and murmuring voices, and strange monsters came up from their rocky weed-covered homes, their fins sparkling, and their eyes flashing as they clove through the sea. Some would now and again spring into the air and fall back with a loud splash. Others, of huge bulk, I thought, would come and float silently, looking at the little schooner, an intruder on their domain, seemingly devising means how they might drive her from it. I ought to have been below resting, as the captain had ordered me, but I was hot and feverish, and could not remain in the close atmosphere of the forepeak. As I stood gazing at the sea, I thought I saw the forms of all the unhappy men murdered by the Maroons pass before me. Each countenance bore the agonised look which I had beheld before the fatal signal was given to the firing-party to perform the work of death. They stretched out their hands to me to help them, and moaned piteously, as I stood spell-bound, unable to move. One after the other they came gliding by, and then sank down into the water ahead of the schooner. I could stand the dreadful sight no longer, and shrieked out in an attempt to go and help them.
“What’s the matter, lad?” said the voice of Peter Poplar close to my ear. “You are overtired—no wonder. Here—I have put a mattress and a blanket for you under shelter. Lie down and take a little rest. You’ll want to use your strength perhaps before long. A sailor should always eat when he can, and take his sleep when he can. He is never certain when he may have to go without either food or rest.”
I took Peter’s advice, and very soon the feelings which oppressed me wore off, and I fell soundly asleep.
I did not awake till the bright sun was just rising out of the mirror-like sea. The calm was as perfect as before; and when I looked for the land, I could only just make out its blue and hazy mountains rising out of the ocean. Hot enough the weather was; but as the sun glided upwards in the sky, a thick mist was drawn over the whole face of nature. The captain and Mr Gale were on deck, and I saw them scanning the horizon anxiously on every side. They seemed far from satisfied with the look of the weather. Still for some time they could not make up their minds how to act.
“What’s going to happen now?” said I to Peter some time after this.
“Do you remember the breeze we had in Kingston Harbour on your first voyage?” he asked.
“What? the hurricane do you mean? Indeed I do,” I replied. “I hope we are not going to have such another in this little craft out here.”
“I’m not so sure of that, Jack,” he replied. “The captain begins to think so likewise. He’ll be for making everything snug, if I mistake not.”
Peter was right. The order was soon given to strike topmasts, to furl sails, to set up the rigging, to fasten down the hatches, to secure everything below, and to lash the boats and all spare spars on deck. Everything that could be accomplished was done to prepare the little craft for the expected tempest.