With a sad heart I returned to the wherry. The other boats had not succeeded in saving any of the hapless crew. The ship had been loaded with arms and gunpowder, bound for South America, I heard some one say.
“Cheer up, my lad!” said the officer; “you must come aboard the Lapwing, and we’ll then send you into Portsmouth, as we must have this poor fellow looked to by our surgeon before he is taken to the hospital.”
The name of the Lapwing aroused me; she was the brig in which my brother Jack had gone to sea. For a moment I forgot my heavy loss with the thoughts that I might presently see dear Jack again. But it was only for a moment. As I sat steering the wherry towed by the man-of-war’s boat my eyes filled with tears. What sad news I had to give to Jack! What would become of Mary and Nancy? For myself I did not care, as I knew that I could obtain employment at home, or could go to sea; but then I could not hope for a long time to come to make enough to support them. My chief feeling, however, was grief at the loss of my true-hearted old friend.
Soon after we got alongside the brig of war the master’s mate told me to come up on deck, while one of the men took charge of the wherry. He at once led me aft to the commander, who questioned me as to how I came to be in the wherry by myself. I described to him all that had happened.
“You acted a brave part in trying to save the man from the ship which blew up. Indeed, had you not held on to him he would have been lost,” he observed. “I must see that you are rewarded. What is your name?”
“Peter Trawl, sir,” I answered, and, eager to see Jack, for whom I had been looking out since I got out of the boat, thinking that we should know each other, I added, “I have a brother, sir, who went to sea aboard this brig, and we have been looking out for him ever so long to come home. Please, sir, can I go and find him?”
The commander’s countenance assumed a look of concern. “Poor fellow! I wish that he was on board for his sake and yours, my lad,” he answered. “I cannot say positively that he is dead, but I have too much reason to believe that he is. While we were cruising among the islands of the East Indian Archipelago he formed one of a boat’s crew which was, while at a distance from the ship, attacked by a large body of Malay pirates. When we got up we found only on man, mortally wounded, in the bottom of the boat, who before he died said that, to the best of his belief, the officer in charge and the rest of the men had been killed, as he had seen several dragged on board the proas, and then hacked to pieces and hove overboard.
“We chased and sank some of the pirate fleet, and made every possible search for the missing men, in case any of them should have escaped on shore, to which they were close at the time of the attack, but no traces of them could be discovered. I left an account of the occurrence with the vessel which relieved me on the station, and should any of the poor fellows have been found I should have been informed of it. It was my intention, as soon as I was paid off the Lapwing, to come down to Portsmouth to break the news to his father. Say this from me, and that I yet hope to see him shortly.”
Commander Rogers seemed very sorry when I told him that father and mother were both dead. He asked me where I lived. I told him, as well as I could describe the house, forgetting that, too probably, Mary and I and Nancy would not be long allowed to remain there.
“When I commission another ship, would you like to go with me, my lad?” he asked.