Annie o' the Banks o' Dee Part 16

The yacht did not belong to the Halls. She was lent them for the cruise round the Horn to the South Pacific, and many a beautiful island they meant to visit, and see many a strange and wondrous sight. For hitherto all their travelling experiences had been confined to Europe. But your true American wants to see all the world when he can afford it.

It was health the Halls were in search of, combined with pleasure if possible; but they meant to collect all the curios they could get, and they also felt certain--so Mrs Hall said--that they would find the South Sea savages very interesting persons indeed.

So have I myself found them, especially when their spears were whisking over my boat and they were dancing in warlike frenzy on the beach. In such cases, however, a shot or two from a good revolver has a wonderfully persuasive and calmative effect on even Somali Indians.

We British have called Scotland and England an isle of beauty, but I question very much if it can cope with Madeira. Here not only have we splendid mountains, clad in all the beauty of tropical and sub-tropical shrubs and trees, tremendous cliffs and gorges, raging torrents and cataracts, with many a bosky dell, lovely even as those birchen glades in Scotia, but in this heavenly isle there is the sunshine that overspreads all and sparkles on the sea. And that sea, too!--who could describe the splendour of its blue on a calm day, patched here and there towards the sh.o.r.e with browns, seagreens, and opals? No wonder that after making several visits and picnics in sh.o.r.e and high among the mountains, borne there by st.u.r.dy Portuguese in hammocks, Mrs Hall should declare that she felt better already.

It was with some reluctance that Mr Hall ordered the anchor to be got up at last, and all sail made for the Canaries. Near sunset was it when they sailed slowly away, a sunset of indescribable beauty. A great grey misty bank of cloud was hanging many degrees above the mountains, but beneath it was more clear and streaked with long trailing cloudlets of crimson, light yellow, and purple, the rifts between being of the deepest sea-green. But over the hills hung a shadow or mist of smoky blue.

Then descended the sun, sinking in the waters far to the west, a ball of crimson fire with a pathway of blood 'twixt the horizon and the yacht.

Then night fell, with but a brief twilight. There was going to be a change, however. The mate, a st.u.r.dy, red-faced, weather-beaten, but comely fellow, sought the captain's cabin and reported a rapidly-falling gla.s.s, and the gradual obliteration of the stars, that erst had shone so sweetly.

How swiftly comes a squall at times in these seas! A huge bank of blackest darkness was seen rapidly advancing towards the ship, and before sail could be taken in or steam got up she was in the grasp of that merciless demon squall.

For a minute or two she fled before it and the terrible waves, quivering the while from stem to stern like a dying deer.

Then high above the roaring of the wind, and booming and hissing of the waves, great guns were heard. It seemed so, at least, but it was but the bursting of the bellying sails, and platoon-firing next, as the rent ribbons of canvas crackled and rattled in the gale.

To lie to was impossible now. With the little sail they had left they must fly on and on. Men staggered about trying to batten down, but for a time in vain.

Then came a huge p.o.o.ping wave, that all but swept the decks. It smashed the bulwarks, it carried away a boat, and, alas! one poor fellow found a watery grave. He must have been killed before being swept overboard.

Anyhow, he was seen no more. Everything movable was carried forward with tremendous force. Even the winch was unshipped, and stood partly on end.

The man at the wheel and the men battening down were carried away on the current, but though several were badly bruised, they were otherwise unhurt. St.u.r.dy Captain d.i.c.kson had rushed to the wheel, else would the _Wolverine_ have broached to and sunk in a few minutes.

The water had poured down the companions like cataracts, and it drowned out the half-lit fires. Mr Hall and party had shut themselves up in their state-rooms, but everything in the saloon was floating in water two feet deep.

However, this storm pa.s.sed away almost as quickly as it had come, and once more the seas calmed down, and sky and waters became brightly, ineffably blue. The ship was baled out, and, as the wind had now gone down, fires were got up, and the _Wolverine_ steamed away for the Canaries and the marvellous Peak of Teneriffe.

But poor Bill Stevens's death had cast a general gloom throughout the ship. He was a great favourite fore and aft, always merry, always laughing or singing, and a right good sailor as well.

So next morning, when red and rosy the sun rose over the sea, orders were sent forward for the men to "lay aft" at nine o'clock for prayers.

Then it was "wash and scrub decks, polish the wood, and shine the bra.s.swork."

Right rapidly did the sun dry the decks, so that when Mrs Hall, who had received a bad shock, was helped on deck by Reginald, everything 'twixt fo'c'sle and wheel looked clean and nice. The winch had not been badly damaged, and was soon set to rights.

I should not forget to mention that the only one not really alarmed during the terrible black Squall was that busy, merry wee body Matty.

When she saw the cataract of waters coming surging in, she speedily mounted the table. The fiddles had been put on, and to these she held fast; and she told Reginald all this next morning, adding, "And, oh, doc, it was so nice--dust (just) like a swinging-rope!"

But she had had a companion; for, after swimming several times round the table, as if in search of dry land, the beautiful dog clambered up on the table beside Matty. To be sure, he shook himself, but Matty shut her eyes, and wiped her face, and on the whole was very glad of his company.

How solemn was that prayer of Mr Hall for the dead. Granted that he was what is so foolishly called "a Dissenter" in England, his heart was in the right place, and he prayed right from that Even his slight nasal tw.a.n.g in no way detracted from the solemnity of that prayer. Ilda Hall had her handkerchief to her face, but poor little cabin-boy Ralph Williams wept audibly. For the drowned sailor had ever been kind to him.

The captain was certainly a gentleman, and an excellent sailor, but he had sea ways with him, and now he ordered the main-brace to be spliced; so all the Jacks on board soon forgot their grief.

"His body has gone to Davy Jones," said one, "but his soul has gone aloft."

"Amen," said others.

They stayed at Orotava long enough to see the sights, and Reginald himself and a sailor got high up the peak. He was on board in time for dinner, but confessed to being tired. He had not forgotten to bring a splendid basket of fruit with him, however, nor wildflowers rich and rare.

A long lonely voyage was now before them--south-west and away to Rio de Janeiro--so ere long everyone on board had settled quietly down to a sea life.

I must mention here that it was the first mate that had chosen the crew.

He had done so somewhat hastily, I fear, and when I say that there were two or three Spaniards among them, and more than one Finn, need I add that the devil was there also?

One Finn in particular I must mention. He was tall to awkwardness.

Somewhat ungainly all over, but his countenance was altogether forbidding. He had an ugly beard, that grew only on his throat, but curled up over his chin--certainly not adding to his beauty.

Christian Norman was his name; his temper was vile, and more than once had he floored poor boy Williams, and even cut his head. He smoked as often as he had the chance, and would have drunk himself to insensibility if supplied with vile alcohol.

"I don't like him," said the captain one evening at dinner.

"Nor I," said Reginald.

"I say, cap," said Mr Hall, "I'd maroon a fellow like that! If you don't, mark my words, he will give us trouble yet."

And he did, as the sequel will show.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE BREAKDOWN--SAVAGES!

Captain d.i.c.kson was just as kind to Norman, the Finn, as he was to anyone else. Perhaps more so. Not that he dreaded him. d.i.c.kson would have shot him with as little compunction as shooting a panther had he given him even a mutinous answer. But he often let him have double allowance of rum. "You're a big man," he would say; "you need a little more than the little ones."

Norman would smile grimly, but swallow it. He would even buy the men's, for he seemed to have plenty of money. When half-seas-over Norman would swagger and rant and sing, and with little provocation he would have fought. The other Finns and the Spaniard, besides an Englishman or two, always took Norman's side in an argument.

So things went on until Rio was reached. What a splendid harbour--ships of all nations here; what a romantic city as seen from the sea, and the surroundings how romantic, rivalling even Edinburgh itself in beauty!

It was early summer here, too. They had left autumn and the coming winter far away in the dreary north. I shall make no attempt to describe the floral grandeur of the country here. I have done so before. But not only Reginald, but all the Halls, and Matty as well, were able to walk round and admire the tropical vegetation and the gorgeous flowers in the gardens; and in the town itself the fish-market and fruit-market were duly wondered at, for everything was new and strange to the visitors.

Further out into the country they drove all among the peaked and marvellous mountains and the foliaged glens, and Matty, who sat on Reginald's knee, clapped her hands with delight to see the wee, wee humming-birds buzzing from flower to flower "like chips of rainbows," as Ilda phrased it, and the great b.u.t.terflies as big as fans that floated in seeming idleness here, there, and everywhere.

A whole week was spent here, and every day afforded fresh enjoyments.

But they must sail away at last. The captain had half-thought of leaving the Finn Norman here, but the man seemed to have turned over a new leaf, so he relented.

South now, with still a little west in it. The good ship encountered more bad weather. Yet so taut and true was she, and so strong withal, that with the exception of the waves that dashed inboards--some of them great green seas that rolled aft like breakers on a stormy beach--she never leaked a pint.

Captain d.i.c.kson and his mate paid good attention to the gla.s.s, and never failed to shorten sail and even batten down in time, and before the approach of danger.

But all went well and the ship kept healthy. Indeed, hardly was there a sick man among the crew. Little Matty was the life and soul of the yacht. Surely never on board ship before was there such a merry little child! Had anyone been in the saloon as early as four, or even three, bells in the morning watch, they might have heard her lightsome laugh proceeding from her maid's cabin; for Matty was usually awake long before the break of day, and it is to be presumed that Maggie, the maid, got little sleep or rest after that.

Reginald used to be on deck at seven bells, and it was not long before he was joined by Matty. Prettily dressed the wee thing was, in white, with ribbons of blue or crimson, her bonnie hair trailing over her back just as wild and free as she herself was.

Then up would come Oscar, the great Newfoundland. Hitherto it might have been all babyish love-making between Reginald and Matty.

"I loves 'oo," she told him one morning, "and when I'se old eno' I'se doin' (going) to mally 'oo."