The Ocean Waifs Part 25

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

A THRUST THROUGH AND THROUGH.

As soon as the _Catamaran_ had fairly recovered her equilibrium, s...o...b..ll condescended to climb aboard. The ludicrous appearance of the negro, as he stood dripping upon the deck, might have excited laughter; but neither Ben Brace, nor his acolyte, nor the little Lalee, were in a mood for mirth. On the contrary, the curious incident that had just occurred was yet unexplained; and the awe with which it had inspired them still continued to hold all three in a sort of speechless control.

s...o...b..ll himself was the first to break silence.

"Good Gorramity!" he exclaimed, his teeth chattering like castanets, as the words pa.s.sed between them. "Wha's all de rumpus 'bout? Wha you tink, Ma.s.sa Ben? Wha make dat dratted fuss under de raff? De water be plash bout so I've see nuffin, 'cepting a big black heap o' someting.

Golly! I b'lieve it war de _jumbe_,--de debbil!"

The terrified looks of the speaker, while giving utterance to these words,--especially when p.r.o.nouncing the dreaded name of the _jumbe_-- told that he was serious in what he said; and that he actually believed the devil to have been the agent who had been causing the mysterious commotion!

The English sailor, though not entirely free from a certain tinge of superst.i.tion, did not share s...o...b..ll's belief. Though unable, by any experience he had ever gone through, to account for the odd incident, still he could not ascribe it to supernatural agency. The blow which started the plank on which s...o...b..ll had been standing had communicated a shock to the whole structure. It might have been given by some huge fish, or other monster of the deep; and though unaccountable and unexpected, might, nevertheless, be quite natural. It was the shaking which the _Catamaran_ kept up afterwards,--almost to the spilling of the whole crew into the water,--that most perplexed the old man-o'-war's-man. He could not imagine why a fish, or any other creature, having b.u.t.ted its head once against the "keel" of the craft, would not instantly desist from such an idle encounter, and make off as fast as fins could carry it.

Ben's first impression was, that a whale had by chance risen under the raft; as he had known them to do against the sides of ships. But then the persistence of the creature, whatever it was, in its odd attack, argued something more than accident. On the other hand, if the attack was designed, and had been made by a whale, of whatever species, the sailor knew that it would not have left off after merely shaking the raft. A whale, with a single flirt of his tail, would have sent the whole structure flying into the air, sunk it down into the deep, or scattered it in fifty fragments over the surface of the water.

One of these things a whale would undoubtedly have done. So believed Ben Brace; and therefore the creature that had come so near capsizing them could not be a whale. What was it, then? A shark? No. It could not be a shark. Though there are two or three species of these monsters, quite as large as good-sized whales, the sailor never knew of their a.s.saulting anything after that fashion.

As they stood speculating on the cause of their curious adventure, a shout from s...o...b..ll announced that the ex-cook had at length discovered the explanation.

s...o...b..ll's first thought, after having partially recovered from his fright, was to examine the plank from which, like an acrobat from his spring-board, he had made that involuntary somersault.

There, just by the spot on which he had been standing, appeared an object that explained everything: a sharp, bony, proboscis-like implement, standing up a full foot's length out of the timber, slightly obliqued from the perpendicular, and as firmly imbedded in the wood as if it had been driven in by the blows of a blacksmith's hammer!

That it had penetrated the plank from underneath could be easily seen, by the ragged edge, and split pieces around the orifice where it came out.

But the negro did not stay to draw deductions of this nature. On catching sight of the object,--which he knew had not been there before,--his terror at once came to an end; and a long cachinnation, intended for a peal of laughter, announced that "s...o...b..ll was himself again."

"Golly!" he exclaimed. "Look dar, Ma.s.sa Brace. Look at de ting dat hab gub us sich a frightnin. Whuch! Who'd a beliebed dat de long-nose had got so much 'trength in im ugly body? Whuch!"

"A sword-fish!" cried Ben. The rostrum of one of these singular creatures was the sharp bone protruding above the plank. "You're right, Snowy, it be a sword-fish, and nothing else."

"Only de snout o' one," jocularly rejoined the negro. "De karkiss ob de anymal an't dar any more. Dat was de black body I seed under de raff; but he an't dar now. He hab broke off him long perbossus; and no doubt dat hab killed him. He gone dead, and to de bottom, boaf at de same time."

"Yes," a.s.sented the sailor. "It must have broke off while he was struggling to get clear, I heerd the crash o't, like the partin' o' a spar; and just after, the raft stopped shakin', an' began to settle down again. Lor ha mercy on us! what a thrust he have made! That plank be five inches thick, at the very least, an' you see he's stuck his snout through it more'n a foot! Lor 'a mercy on us! What wonderful queery creeturs the ocean do contain!"

And with this philosophic reflection, from the lips of the man-o'-war's-man, ended the adventure.

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

AN AWKWARD GRIP.

To the two oldest of the _Catamaran's_ crew the curious circ.u.mstances of the sword-fish thrusting his rostrum through the raft, and snapping it asunder, needed no explanation. Both knew that it was not with an intention of attacking the _Catamaran_ that the "stab" had been given; nor was the act a voluntary one, in any way.

Not likely, indeed; since it had proved fatal to the swordsman himself.

No one doubted his having gone dead to the bottom of the sea: for the bony "blade" was found to have been broken close to the "hilt," and it was not possible the owner could exist without this important weapon.

Even supposing that the fearful "fracture" had not killed him outright, the loss of his long rapier, the only tool by which he could obtain his living, would be sure to shorten his lease of life, and the final moment could not be long delayed.

But neither sailor nor ex-sea-cook had any doubt of the fish having committed suicide, no more than that the act was involuntary.

The explanation given by Ben Brace to his _protege_ was simple, as it was also rational. The sword-fish had been charging into a shoal of albacores. Partly blinded by the velocity of its impetuous rush, and partly by its instinct of extreme voracity,--perhaps amounting to a pa.s.sion, it had seen nothing of the raft until its long weapon struck the plank, piercing the latter through and through. Unable to withdraw its rostrum from the fibrous wood, the fish had instantly inaugurated that series of struggles, and continued them, until the crash came, caused, no doubt, by the upheaved raft lurching suddenly down in a direction transverse to its snout.

Only a part of this explanatory information was extended to little William: for only a part was required. From some previous talk that had occurred on the same subject, he was already acquainted with a few of the facts relating to this foolish fencing on the part of the sword-fish.

Nor was there at that moment any explanation either offered or asked; for, as soon as the _Catamaran_ had settled into her proper position, and s...o...b..ll had got aboard, the eyes of her whole crew,--those of the Coromantee among the rest,--became once more directed to that which had occupied their attention previous to receiving the shock,--the strange behaviour of the frigate-bird.

This creature was still down on the surface of the water, darting from point to point, fluttering and flopping, and throwing up the little clouds of spray, that, surrounding it like a nimbus, seemed to follow it wherever it went!

Though Ben Brace and s...o...b..ll had been able to explain the action of the fish, they were both at fault about the behaviour of the bird. In all their sea experience neither had ever witnessed the like conduct before,--either on the part of a frigate-bird, or any other bird of the ocean.

For a long time they stood watching the creature, and exchanging conjectures as to the cause of its singular action. It was clear this was not voluntary; for its movements partook of the nature of a struggle. Besides, its screams,--to which it gave an almost continuous utterance,--betokened either terror or pain, or both.

But why did it keep to the surface of the sea, when it was well-known to be a bird that could rise almost vertically into the air, and to the highest point that winged creatures might ascend?

This was the query to which neither sailor nor sea-cook could give a reply, either with positive truth or probable conjecture.

For full ten minutes it remained unanswered; that is, ten minutes after the sword-fish adventure had ended, and twenty from the time the frigate-bird had been seen to swoop at the flying-fish. Then, however, the problem received its solution; and the play of the _Pelica.n.u.s aquila_ was at length explained.

It was no play on the part of the unfortunate bird, but a case of involuntary and fearful captivity.

The bird had begun to show symptoms of exhaustion, and as its strength became enfeebled, its wings flopped more gently against the water, the spray no longer rose around it, and the sea underneath was less agitated.

The spectators could now see that it was not alone. Beneath, and apparently clutching it by the leg, was a fish whose shape, size, and sheen of azure hue proclaimed it an albacore,--no doubt, the one that simultaneously with the bird itself had been balked in the pursuit of the flying-fish.

So far the detention of the frigate-bird upon the surface of the sea was explained; but not sufficiently. There was still cause for conjecture.

The albacore seemed equally tired of the connection,--equally exhausted; and as it swam slowly about,--no longer darting swiftly from point to point, as at the beginning of the strife,--the spectators could now see that the foot of the sea-hawk, instead of being held between the jaws of the fish,--as at first they had supposed it to be,--appeared to be resting on the back of its head, as if the bird had perched there, and was balancing itself on one leg!

Mystery of mysteries! What could it all mean?

The struggles of both bird and fish seemed coming to a termination: as they were now only continued intermittently. After each interval, the wings of the former and the fins of the latter moved with feebler stroke; until at length both wings and fins lay motionless,--the former on, the latter _in_, the water.

But that the bird's wings were extended, it would, no doubt, have sunk under the surface; and the fish was still making feeble endeavours to draw it down; but the spread pinions, extending over nearly ten feet of surface, frustrated the design.

It so chanced that the curious spectacle had occurred directly ahead of the _Catamaran_, and the craft, making way down the wind, kept gradually approaching the scene of the strife.

Every moment the respective positions of the two parties revealed themselves more clearly; but it was not until the raft swept within reach, and the exhausted adversaries were both taken up, that the connection between them became thoroughly understood.

Then it was discovered that the contest which had occurred between them was on both sides an involuntary affair,--had not been sought by either; but was the result of sheer accident.

How could it be otherwise: since the albacore is too strong for the beak of the frigate-bird,--too big for even _its_ capacious throat to swallow; while, on the other hand, the frigate-bird never ventures to intrude itself on the cruising-ground of this powerful fish?

The accident which had conducted to this encounter, leading to a fatal entanglement, had been caused by a creature which is the common prey of both,--the little flying-fish, that for once had escaped from his enemies of both elements,--the air and the water.

In dashing down upon the flying-fish, the curving talons of the bird, missing the object for which they had been braced, entered the eye of the albacore. Partly because they fitted exactly into the socket, and partly becoming imbedded among the fibrous sutures of the skull, they remained fixed; so that neither bird nor fish--equally desirous of undoing the irksome yoke--was able to put an end to the partnership!