Ben Hadden Part 9

"Up with the helm!--square away the yards!" he shouted.

The order was rapidly executed, and the frigate's head turned towards the dreaded reef; but between the walls of foam an opening of clear water was seen, amply wide to allow her to pa.s.s. Almost in an instant, it seemed, she was flying by the danger on an even keel, the breakers sending the spray in heavy showers over her decks. The after-sails were furled: on she flew steadily before the gale. Night came on. There might be other reefs ahead; but the captain and his officers and crew had done all that men could do, and they put their trust in G.o.d, who had already brought them safely through so many dangers, that He would protect them.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

BEN IS SHIPWRECKED.

The gale drove the Ajax considerably out of her intended course, and it was some time before she could again haul up to the eastward. It was not without a providential purpose that she was driven in that direction. Three days pa.s.sed by after the gale had gone down, and just as she had sighted a small island, said to be uninhabited, the look-out at the masthead hailed the deck: "A sail on the lee-bow--five miles away!" he shouted.

Several of the officers went at once aloft, to have a look at the stranger. She was not a large vessel, that was certain; she might be one of the slavers. She must be overhauled at all events; all sail was accordingly made on the frigate. The stranger seemed not to have much wind where she lay; the frigate therefore came rapidly up with her. She was soon seen to be a schooner, and p.r.o.nounced to have a Spanish look about her. The frigate brought the breeze along with her, and as soon as the schooner felt it, she too made all sail, close-hauled, with an evident intention of escaping. This left little doubt of her character.

She was a fast-looking craft, but the Ajax was also noted for her speed, and few on board doubted that the schooner would be overtaken.

Everybody was eager to come up with her. What a satisfaction it would be to release the poor savage islanders, and many others of whom they had heard!

The schooner made every effort to escape, and, at last, kept away, finding how fast her pursuer was on a wind, and endeavoured to run back towards the island, her crew probably expecting to be able to escape among the reefs which surrounded it. Fortunately, the island having been well surveyed, a good chart of it existed on board. Captain Bertram was able to stand close in after her without fear. The Ajax came quickly up after the schooner before the wind.

"Try her with a shot, Mr Charlton," said the captain; "but fire high, to injure no one on board."

Mr Sponge, the gunner, with alacrity fired one of the bow chasers. The shot was admirably aimed, and the schooner's maintopmast fell over her side. The frigate's crew uttered a shout of satisfaction.

The slaver, for so she was, did not wait for another, but instantly hauled down her flag. It was that of Chili. The schooner was forthwith hove up in the wind. This done, two boats were seen to leave her side.

Captain Bertram, on this, hove the frigate to, and ordered two boats to be manned and to bring the fugitives back, while two others pulled on board the schooner. Ben was in one of the latter, with the interpreter.

The crew gave way with a will, for they were eager to get on board. No one was to be seen on deck as they climbed up the sides, but Tatai's hail was at once answered by shouts from below. The hatches were quickly knocked off, and a number of men and women came rushing up, showing, by evident signs, their joy at being liberated. Their first impulse, however, was to fall down on their knees on the deck, and return thanks to Jehovah for having freed them from the barbarians by whom they had been captured. They knew, from having several times before seen the British flag, that they would be kindly treated. They described through Tatai, in pathetic language, the way that they had been treated after having been captured. They had been ordered not to pray aloud, or to sing, and, when off the farther end of this island, to their grief they heard the voices of several of their countrymen, who had come on board. In vain they shouted to warn them. Some at length heard them, and endeavoured to escape. Many sprang overboard into the sea in the hope of swimming on sh.o.r.e, when the inhuman wretches fired on them and killed several; others were knocked down, and, being recaptured, were forced below to join their poor countrymen. This treatment was more than even the patient islanders could stand. By violent efforts, with the aid of a piece of timber they found below, they forced off the hatch and rushed on deck. Some of them threw themselves into the water in the hopes of swimming on sh.o.r.e, though now far from it. At length, the slaver sailed away from the spot, with her cargo of victims to be offered up at the shrine of Mammon; or, in other words, to be destroyed in the silver mines of Peru. Even then, did these till lately savages curse their oppressors? No; even as they sailed away, torn from home and country, wives and children, to die in a foreign land--when they all knelt down at the usual hour to offer up prayer and praise to the G.o.d of love and mercy, who had brought them out of darkness into His marvellous light, they did not omit to pray for their cruel oppressors, that their hearts might be converted, and that they might turn to their Maker and live.

Meantime, the boats of the frigate which had gone in chase of the slaver's overtook them, and brought them on board the Ajax. Their guilt was so evident, that Captain Bertram had no doubt about the propriety of detaining them as prisoners. It was necessary, therefore, to send a prize crew to take charge of the schooner. She was called the Andorina (the Swallow). Mr Owen, the third lieutenant of the frigate, was directed to take charge of the prize, to land the natives at the islands from which they had been taken, and then to follow the frigate to Callao. Mr Manners was to go as his mate. Ben and Tom hoped that they would be among those chosen to form her crew, as boys would certainly be required. Ben wished it, because he should thus be able to make more inquiries for Ned at the places they might touch at, and he made bold to tell his wish to Mr Martin, who suggested it to Mr Charlton. The two boys were therefore delighted when their names were called out to go on board the prize. They quickly mustered with the rest of the prize crew, with their bags ready. The captain addressed them kindly before they left the frigate, urged them to maintain discipline, to obey Mr Owen and Mr Manners, and hoped that he should have a good report of them all when they rejoined the frigate. All arrangements being made, the frigate stood to the eastward with the slaver's crew on board, while the schooner made sail for Samoa, Tonga, and Savage Islands.

The new crew of the schooner had a long voyage before them, but they were in good spirits; they had an abundance of provisions, having been well supplied by the frigate, in addition to what the schooner had before, and they were engaged in a just and humane cause.

It was pleasant to observe the gentle, kind manners of the liberated natives. They were courteous and polite to each other, and they seemed evidently anxious to conform to all the rules and regulations formed for their management. One of them, who had lived some time in the house of a missionary, spoke a little English, and he was thus able to act as interpreter.

Although the crew of the slaver had taken away and thrown overboard one or two Bibles and some other small books, which had been found in the girdles of the captives, they were very far from being deprived of all spiritual comfort, for they could nearly all repeat large portions of the Scripture by heart, many of them entire chapters. They would happily pa.s.s many hours of each day repeating these to each other, singing hymns, and offering up prayers. Two or three among them, who were elders of their respective churches, also occasionally addressed and exhorted the rest; indeed, it was a pity that their language was not understood by the white men, who might undoubtedly have learned many an important truth from them. Mr Manners, who was, as has been said, a very sincere Christian, took great interest in their proceedings, and got the young native who spoke English, and who was called Marco, to explain what was said. Ben frequently stood by and listened, and then began to pick up a knowledge of the language.

Thus several days pa.s.sed by very pleasantly on board the schooner. It has been remarked that this world is a very good and beautiful world, but it is the people who live in it that are bad. In this case the schooner was a very ordinary vessel, and had till lately been filled with very bad people, and a great deal of misery and suffering had existed on board her. Now she was manned with G.o.d-fearing and religious people, and so her whole character was changed, and prayers and songs of praise ascended daily from her decks.

The weather, however, was far from satisfactory. The stormy season had set in, and rains and gales of wind might be expected. Mr Owen proved himself a good and careful officer, and, a.s.sisted by Mr Manners, was constantly on the watch for the dangers which might befall them. The wind had hitherto been light and contrary, and the schooner had made but little progress. The weather now again became threatening, and caused considerably anxiety to the young officers. It was evident from the look of the sky, and the sudden way in which the sea got up, that another gale was coming on; not so violent, perhaps, as the former, but still requiring every possible preparation to be made for it. The boats and spars, and everything on deck, were doubly secured; the hatches and skylights were fastened down; the topmasts were struck; the lighter sails furled, and storm sails set; and in a short time the schooner was in a state to encounter the expected gale. It came on more gradually than the former one: at first in heavy squalls, and then more and more violently. The sea got up at the same time, and the vessel heeled over to the furious blast Mr Owen and Mr Manners consulted together what course to steer: the schooner could just lie her proper course, and on that course there were no dangers which could not be seen in time, and avoided, as far as they knew. On the other hand, should the gale increase still more, as there was every prospect of its doing, it would be necessary to put her before the wind, as it would be dangerous, if not indeed impossible, to keep her close-hauled as she then was. Should she run for any distance before the gale, she would be carried into a part of the ocean studded thickly with islets. Once among the archipelago, it might be impossible to avoid being dashed on the rock-bound sh.o.r.e of one of them. Here, then, was sufficient cause for anxiety to the young officers. As long as possible, the schooner was kept on a wind, plunging through the seas. Their only other resource was to heave-to; but there was danger in that where neither spars nor rigging could be trusted. The seas came breaking over her bows, and sweeping her decks. Another huge billow, larger and more foam-covered than any of its predecessors, was seen ahead. "Up with the helm, lower the peak, ease away the main-sheet, square away the maintopsail!" cried Mr Owen, with rapid utterance. The crew quickly obeyed his orders.

The effect of these orders was to take the pressure off the after-part of the vessel, and round her head flew from the wind and the coming sea.

It struck her, however, and from the way it swept along her side, tearing away part of her bulwarks, and doing other damage as it came on board, it was evident that it would have caused far greater disaster had her bow encountered its full force. On she now flew before the hurricane, for such it was rather than a common gale. There was no choice now as to heaving-to. The officers scanned the chart with anxious eyes. They saw, with regret they could scarcely conceal, that, unless the gale should cease, no skill of theirs could save the schooner from destruction, or unless, guided by an unseen Power, she should thread her way amid the labyrinth of islets and reefs ahead of her.

Night was coming on. There was no moon. The dark clouds shut out all light from the stars.

On flew the schooner. The unfortunate islanders were invited to come on deck, that, should the vessel strike suddenly, they might have some chance of escaping by swimming on sh.o.r.e. The danger was explained to them through Marco. "We are in the hands of Jehovah," was the answer.

"He will do with us what He sees best."

Through the pitchy darkness the vessel rushed on. More than once the quick ears of the seamen detected, they thought, the well-known sound of breakers; but each time the sound died away to leeward: the vessel must have pa.s.sed at a distance from them. Hour after hour thus pa.s.sed by.

How all on board longed for daylight! Yet daylight would only enable them to see the threatening danger, scarcely to avoid it.

Once more the sound of breakers was heard. This time it was ahead. In vain, with straining eyeb.a.l.l.s, the seamen looked into the darkness to discover, if they could, whether the breakers were on the starboard or port bow. All held their breath. The stoutest hearts might then have quailed. The foretopsail was alone set; to have lowered that would have caused the vessel to be p.o.o.ped, and so more speedily to have sealed her fate. On she flew to destruction. The dreaded crash came. She quivered from stem to stern. Both the masts went by the board, carrying several of the seamen with them, as well as the young commander.

Another sea came hissing on astern, threatening to dash the vessel to pieces; but no! it lifted her up, and bore her on its summit far along over the reef.

Mr Manners found himself at that awful moment in command of the schooner. He ordered the well to be sounded. It was not necessary; for the water, it was soon evident, was rushing in through numerous large rents made by the sharp coral. Still the vessel drove on, now among rocks, now in clear water. She was, however, rapidly filling. "Out boats!" was the cry. Fortunately these had escaped injury. Again, however, the schooner was exposed to the fury of the sea, which came sweeping round through a pa.s.sage in the reef.

At that moment a sudden panic seized the crew. Ben felt himself grasped by the arm, and dragged into one of the boats which had just been lowered. Five men only were in her. Either intentionally or by accident, the painter was let go, and the boat drifted rapidly away from the sinking vessel. The men searched for the oars, which they supposed to be in the boat; only one was to be found. To return to the schooner was therefore impossible. Their only prospect of safety was to get the boat before the wind with the oar. This was done, and farther and farther away she drifted from the vessel.

The men said but little. They regretted being driven away from the schooner without receiving more on board; and Ben heard, with sorrow, that there was but little chance of any of their shipmates being saved.

Their own prospects also were gloomy enough. They had no water, no provisions, on board, and one oar alone to guide the boat. One of the most dreadful fates which seamen have sometimes to endure seemed in store for them--to be out on the wide ocean, exposed to the heat of the sun by day and chills by night, without a drop of water to cool their burning thirst. The poor fellows knew too well that this might be their lot; but still they were thankful that they had hitherto escaped the destruction which had overtaken so many of their shipmates.

Two or three of the men at a time were employed in baling out the boat, while one steered as well as he could before the seas. Again the sound of breakers was heard: it was right ahead. "It is all up with us!"

cried one of the men. "G.o.d be merciful to us!" cried another. Scarcely had they spoken, when the boat was lifted on the foaming summit of a sea, the crest of which nearly filled her with water, and down she came with a crash on the rocks, which dashed her to pieces. Ben clung to one of the fragments. The despairing shrieks of his shipmates sounded in his ears, and he felt himself borne onward into smoother water. He clung tightly to the shattered plank, and thought that he saw trees rising before him. It was not fancy. The dawn had broken, and he was drifting along the sh.o.r.e. He could swim well, and felt sure that he could reach it. A few vigorous strokes, and his feet touched the firm sand. He waded up, and sank exhausted on the dry ground.

The sun was shining brightly on his head before the shipwrecked lad awoke. He sat up, and, as he recovered his senses, he looked round, hoping to see his companions; but no one was visible. He rose to his feet, and shouted out their names. No reply came to him. He ran along the beach, calling to them; and then discovered that he was on a small island. His voice could, he fancied, have reached from one end to the other. With a sad heart, he found that he was alone--the only human being, as far as he knew, saved from the wreck.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

ON A DESERT ISLAND.

Poor Ben was very melancholy at the feeling that he was alone on that desert island; still, he was thankful that his own life had been preserved. "G.o.d surely would not have taken me out of the sea to let me die here by inches of hunger and thirst," he said to himself. "I will trust in G.o.d, as I have always done." As he said this, he put his hand in the bosom of his shirt. There was safe the little Testament which his mother had given him, and which he had been reading before the gale sprang up. He spread it out open on the sand, that the leaves might dry. "He has spared me this; He has other good things in store for me,"

he whispered to himself. He also spread out his clothes, which very quickly dried.

Ben had lost his cap, so, while his Testament and clothes were drying, he sat down and began making another out of some broad leaves which grew close at hand. While thus employed, and thinking over what he should do, he recollected that he had not prayed, nor thanked G.o.d for preserving him; so, having put on his clothes, he knelt down in the thin shadow of a tall palm, and prayed as he had never prayed before. After doing this, he felt greatly supported; yet his condition was indeed a forlorn one. He rose from his knees, and looked around. He felt thirsty, but not very hungry--sufficiently so, however, to remind him that he must look out for food. He was not aware of the difficulties of procuring it, so that his mind was not troubled on that score. His first idea was to survey the island, so as to learn to a certainty whether any of his shipmates might have been cast on it. He found a piece of timber on the sand, which served him for a walking-stick, and, supported by it, he set off to walk round the island.

He first climbed up to the top of a rock near him, from which, between the trees, he could look across the island, and he thought that it could be little more than half a mile wide. How long it was he could not so well judge. He walked on and on, looking about for signs of fresh-water, for he knew that he must not drink that of the sea. He could find none. He became more and more thirsty; his tongue was parched, and his throat dry: still he would not give up. He dragged his weary feet along, helped by his stick. Some rocky mounds, scarcely to be called hills, appeared in the distance, and he hoped that water might be found near them. This gave him fresh strength to drag himself along.

The mounds were not so high even as he had fancied, and were much nearer. Again he was disappointed. He paced round and round them; all was stony and dry.

Ben was very nearly giving way to despair, when he espied, scarcely fifty yards off, a group of tall trees with large round fruit hanging from them. At once he knew them to be cocoa-nuts, and he went on, eager to quench his thirst with the pure milk they contained. Yet, weak as he was, how could he climb up to the top of those trees? He had often seen the natives do it with a band round their waists. If he were strong, he might do it in the same way, could he but find the band; but, in his weak state, that was impossible. Again he was doomed to disappointment, he feared, and was about to pursue his exploring tour, when he saw, not far off, a nut on the ground. He ran eagerly and picked it up. It had been blown off during the recent gale. After stripping off the husk, he soon broke in the end; and, though he spilt a little, there was sufficient milk in it to quench his now burning thirst. He then more slowly ate pieces of the fruit, which he cut out with his knife. Here was one means of supporting life, and Ben's elastic spirits again rose.

At his age the thoughts of the future did not press heavily on him. He had, too, 'a conscience void of offence towards G.o.d': not that he did not feel and know himself to be a sinner; but he felt himself to be a pardoned one, as a sincere believer in Christ. That was the secret of his light-heartedness. Still he had a longing for pure water. He knew, too, that he could the better cook any fish he might obtain if he could find it. How was he to light a fire, however? Just before the gale came on, the cook had sent him below to get his tin-box of matches, and after the cook had taken one out, Ben had put it into his pocket. There it was, and, the lid fitting tightly down, the matches were uninjured.

"I must cherish them carefully, however," he thought; "when they are gone, I shall be unable to light a fire." He looked about and found several other cocoa-nuts, which he collected, and piled up where he could again find them.

Much refreshed, Ben continued his walk. At last he saw the end of the island. For a quarter of a mile or more it was low and barren, hard rock washed apparently by the sea; so he turned round and went back by the other sh.o.r.e. The island was, altogether, nearly two miles long; but there were not many cocoa-nut trees on it,--nor much soil indeed, which was the reason probably that it was not inhabited. He might now exclaim, though sadly, "I am monarch of all I survey;" but he would rather have been the meanest subject of a small kingdom, with civilised companions, than a king and all alone on that nearly barren reef. Still he had no fear of starving; sh.e.l.l-fish he saw on the rocks in abundance.

During the calm, too, some of the natives had been fishing over the side of the vessel, and he also had got some hooks and a long line.

These he had put into his pockets. He might, he hoped, find some roots, and thus be able to vary his diet. As the sun rose, the horizon became very clear, and he thought that he could distinguish land in one direction; it was at all events a long way off, and it was so faint that it might be only a cloud just rising above the horizon. He should be able to judge better after watching it for a day or two.

As Ben walked on, his eye was continually roving about for signs of water. How gladly would he have welcomed the sight of even a little mossy pool, or some moisture in the crevice of a rock! He did not despair. He had hitherto only explored the sh.o.r.e; water might rise in the interior, and be lost in the sand before it reached the beach. "One thing I ought to have before night," he said,--for he had got into the way of talking aloud,--"that is, shelter. I must build myself a hut;"

and so he set to work. There were canes, and bushes, and broad leaves of the panda.n.u.s and other trees in abundance. He did not require a very s.p.a.cious mansion; still he wanted one high enough to sit in. He worked on till he was tired and hungry. He had left his cocoa-nuts some way off, and had to go for them. He brought as many as he could carry back to his hut. Knocking a hole in the end of one of them, and carefully sc.r.a.ping out the fruit after he had drunk the milk, he waded into the water, and cut some mussels off the rocks. His cocoa-nut he filled with salt-water. Coming back, he lighted a fire in a hole a little way from his hut. Would he put his cocoa-nut on it? No; he was too wise for that; but he made some stones red-hot, and kept tumbling them into the water till the mussels were sufficiently cooked. Others he toasted before the fire, but he liked the boiled ones best. He thus made a tolerably substantial meal. To keep in his fire, he built up a wall of stones round it, and put on a quant.i.ty of green sticks, which would burn slowly, hoping in that way to save the expenditure of another match.

"I will finish my hut, and then I will go and have another hunt for water," he said to himself, as he began working again. He had placed his hut against a tree, with the opening turned away from the wind.

There were plenty of dry leaves about, which he collected for his bed.

He did not require furniture; that he would make by and by. While hunting in his pockets for the matches, he found a number of thin flat seeds. He recollected having saved them from a fruit of the gourd species, which had been used on board the schooner. He carefully dried them and put them by, remembering that such things grow very rapidly.

"There will be no harm sowing them; if I do not use them, others will.

I am thankful I found them," he thought. Once more he set out to look for water. The exertion he had gone through, and the heat, made the milk of the cocoa-nut insufficient for quenching his thirst. The ground was rough; but he eagerly clambered over it, backwards and forwards, hoping thus to find a spring if one existed. The sun was sinking low, when he thought that the trees and shrubs, in a hollow he saw some way before him, looked greener and more luxuriant than those in other places. "Water makes leaves and gra.s.s green," he said to himself; "I hope so, for I don't think that I could live many more hours without water, not through another day in this hot sun. Oh dear! oh dear! how very, very thirsty I am! What would I give if there should be water there, even though I should only get one good drink of it! Ay, but I shall want it another day--for many days, or months, perhaps, as long as I live on this island. I don't think that G.o.d will have put only a little there. If there is any, there will be a good supply for me, more than this cocoa-nut full, I am certain." He had brought a cocoa-nut sh.e.l.l with him to fill with water, that he might take some back to his hut.

Ben almost shouted for joy when he found a spring of pure water bubbling up from under a big rock. It ran a little way between rocks, and then lost itself in a sandy bed. He scooped a hole in the ground, into which he put his cocoa-nut sh.e.l.l, which quickly filled with water. How sweet and pure it tasted! He felt that he could never take enough. At last, however, his thirst was quenched, so he filled his cocoa-nut sh.e.l.l, and directed his steps to the sea-sh.o.r.e; but he had not gone far before he was tempted to put the sh.e.l.l to his lips. He soon drained it, and then he went back for more. His great fear was that he should not again find the spring. He marked the spot with the greatest care, and noted each tree and mound as he took his way towards the beach. Night was coming on, as it does in those lat.i.tudes, very rapidly; and Ben had to hurry on for fear of not finding his hut, and at the same time to be very cautious not to spill the water out of his cocoa-nut. Oh that people would be as eager for the Water of Life, as little Ben was for the spring in that desert island, and would be tempted to return to it again and again to drink afresh of its pure source! Ben was thankful when he saw the glow from his fire, which continued smouldering gently. Without it he might have pa.s.sed his hut. He could not manage by its light to read more than a few verses from his Testament; but even those few gave him comfort and hope. With a heart truly grateful for the mercies bestowed on him, he knelt down and offered up his simple prayer to G.o.d.

The last thing he did was to make up his fire afresh, and then he crept into his hut and in a few moments was fast asleep.

The sun had risen before Ben awoke. He felt that he had a great deal to do. He could not tell how long he might have to remain on the island.

It might be not only for months, but for years. Much depended on his own sense and energy whether he would retain his health, or indeed life itself. He began the day with prayer and reading the Testament. He knew that that was the best way at all events to save himself from turning into a savage. He then made his breakfast off cocoa-nut and sh.e.l.l-fish. "I must catch some fish, however," he said to himself, as he finished the last clam; "this food will not do to live on always. I may find some roots and berries, and perhaps turtles' eggs. I heard some wild-fowl cry last evening; I may find their eggs too, and trap them or some other birds, or get a turtle itself. The first thing I'll now do is to carry my hut nearer to the water, instead of having to bring the water all this way to the hut. That won't take long. I can carry the whole of it in two journeys, and quickly put it up. I must take the fire after it. That will keep in for many hours, I see, with the help of this rotten wood. If I go working on in these clothes, I shall soon wear them out. I must see what I can do to make others out of the bark of the paper-mulberry, as the natives do; I thought I saw some of those trees yesterday. I daresay I shall not succeed at first, but there is nothing like trying. There is a piece of open ground near the spring which will just do for the gourd-seeds. I'll sow them therein forthwith. The fruit is very wholesome, I know; and the dried gourds will furnish me with basins and pots and pans in abundance."