The Red Eric Part 35

Captain Dunning's stories were, more properly speaking, histories, and were very much relished, for he possessed a natural power of relating what he knew in an interesting manner and with a peculiarly pleasant tone of voice. Every one who has considered the subject at all must have observed what a powerful influence there lies in the mere manner and tone of a speaker. The captain's voice was so rich, so mellow, and capable of such varied modulation, that the men listened with pleasure to the words which rolled from his lips, as one would listen to a sweet song. He became so deeply interested, too, in the subject about which he happened to be speaking, that his auditors could not help becoming interested also. He had no powers of eloquence, neither was he gifted with an unusually bright fancy. But he was fluent in speech, and his words, though not chosen, were usually appropriate. The captain had no powers of invention whatever. He used to say, when asked to tell a story, that he "might as well try to play the fiddle with a handspike."

But this was no misfortune, for he had read much, and his memory was good, and supplied him with an endless flow of small-talk on almost every subject that usually falls under the observation of sea-captains, and on many subjects besides, about which most sea-captains, or land-captains, or any other captains whatsoever, are almost totally ignorant.

Captain Dunning could tell of adventures in the whale-fishery, gone through either by himself or by friends, that would have made your two eyes stare out of their two sockets until they looked like saucers (to use a common but not very correct simile). He could tell the exact lat.i.tude and longitude of almost every important and prominent part of the globe, and give the distance, pretty nearly, of any one place (on a large scale) from any other place. He could give the heights of all the chief mountains in the world to within a few feet, and could calculate, by merely looking at its current and depth, how many cubic feet of water any river delivered to the sea per minute. Length, breadth, and thickness, height, depth, and density, were subjects in which he revelled, and with which he played as a juggler does with golden b.a.l.l.s; and so great were his powers of numerical calculation, that the sailors often declared they believed he could work out any calculation backwards without the use of logarithms! He was constantly inst.i.tuting comparisons that were by no means what the proverb terms "odious," but which were often very astonishing, and in all his stories so many curious and peculiar facts were introduced, that, as we have already said, they were very much relished indeed.

Not less relished, however, were Glynn Proctor's astounding and purely imaginative tales. After the men's minds had been chained intently on one of the captain's semi-philosophical anecdotes, they turned with infinite zest to one of Glynn's outrageous flights. Glynn had not read much in his short life, and his memory was nothing to boast of, but his imagination was quite gigantic. He could invent almost anything; and the curious part of it was, that he could do it out of nothing, if need be. He never took time to consider what he should say. When called on for a story he began at once, and it flowed from him like a flood of sparkling water from a fountain in fairy realms. Up in the clouds; high in the blue ether; down in the coral caves; deep in the ocean waves; out on the mountain heaths; far in the rocky glens, or away in the wild woods green--it was all one to Glynn; he leaped away in an instant, with a long train of adventurers at his heels--male and female, little and big, old and young, pretty and plain, grave and gay. And didn't they go through adventures that would have made the hair of mortals not only stand on end, but fly out by the roots altogether? Didn't he make them talk, as mortals never talked before; and sing as mortals never dreamed of? And, oh! didn't he just make them stew, and roast, and boil joints of savoury meat, and bake pies, and tarts, and puddings, such as Soyer in his wildest culinary dreams never imagined, and such as caused the mouths of the crew of the _Maid of the Isle_ to water, until they were constrained, poor fellows, to tell him to "clap a stopper upon that,"

and hold his tongue, for they "couldn't stand it!"

Phil Briant and Gurney dealt in the purely comic line. They remarked-- generally in an undertone--that they left poetry and prose to Glynn and the captain; and it was as well they did, for their talents certainly did not lie in either of these directions. They came out strong after meals, when the weather was fine, and formed a species of light and agreeable interlude to the more weighty efforts of the captain and the brilliant sallies of Glynn.

Gurney dealt in _experiences_ chiefly, and usually endeavoured by a.s.severation and iteration to impress his hearers with the truth of facts said to have been experienced by himself, which, if true, would certainly have consigned him to a premature grave long ago. Briant, on the other hand, dealt largely in ghost stories, which he did not vouch for the truth of, but permitted his hearers to judge of for themselves-- a permission which they would doubtless have taken for themselves at any rate.

But tales and stories occupied, after all, only a small portion of the men's time during that long voyage. Often, very often, they were too much exhausted to talk or even to listen, and when not obliged to labour at the oars they tried to sleep; but "Nature's sweet restorer" did not always come at the first invitation, as was his wont in other days, and too frequently they were obliged to resume work unrefreshed. Their hands became hard and h.o.r.n.y in the palms at last, like a man's heel, and their backs and arms ached from constant work.

Ailie kept in good health, but she, too, began to grow weak from want of proper nourishment. She slept better than the men, for the comfortable sleeping-box that Glynn had constructed for her sheltered her from the heat, wet, and cold, to which the former were constantly exposed. She amused herself, when not listening to stories or asleep, by playing with her favourite, and she spent a good deal of time in reading her Bible-- sometimes to herself, at other times, in a low tone, to her father as he sat at the helm. And many a time did she see a meaning in pa.s.sages which, in happier times, had pa.s.sed meaningless before her eyes, and often did she find sweet comfort in words that she had read with comparative indifference in former days.

It is in the time of trial, trouble, and sorrow that the Bible proves to be a friend indeed. Happy the Christian who, when dark clouds overwhelm his soul, has a memory well stored with the comforting pa.s.sages of the Word of G.o.d.

But Ailie had another occupation which filled up much of her leisure, and proved to be a source of deep and engrossing interest at the time.

This was the keeping of a journal of the voyage. On the last trip made to the wreck of the _Red Eric_, just before the great storm that completed the destruction of that ship, the captain had brought away in his pocket a couple of note-books. One of these he kept to himself to jot down the chief incidents of the intended voyage; the other he gave to Ailie, along with a blacklead pencil. Being fond of trying to write, she amused herself for hours together in jotting down her thoughts about the various incidents of the voyage, great and small; and being a very good drawer for her age, she executed many fanciful and elaborate sketches, among which were innumerable portraits of Jacko and several caricatures of the men. This journal, as it advanced, became a source of much interest and amus.e.m.e.nt to every one in the boat; and when, in an hour of the utmost peril, it, along with many other things, was lost, the men, after the danger was past, felt the loss severely.

Thus they spent their time--now pleasantly, now sadly--sometimes becoming cheerful and hopeful, at other times sinking almost into a state of despair as their little stock of food and water dwindled down, while the _Maid of the Isle_ still held on her apparently endless course over the great wide sea.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE CALM AND THE STORM--A SERIOUS LOSS AND GREAT GAIN--BIRD-CATCHING EXTRAORDINARY--SAVED AT LAST.

One day a deep death-like calm settled down upon the ocean. For some days before, the winds had been light and uncertain, and the air had been excessively warm. The captain cast uneasy glances around him from time to time, and looked with a sadder countenance than usual on the haggard faces of the men as they laboured slowly and silently at the oars.

"I don't know what this will turn to, doctor," he said, in a low tone; "I don't like the look of it."

The doctor, who was perusing Ailie's journal at the moment, looked up and shook his head.

"It seems to me, captain, that whatever happens, matters cannot be made much worse."

"You are wrong, doctor," replied the captain quietly; "we have still much to be thankful for."

"Did you not tell me a few minutes ago that the water was almost done?"

The doctor said this in a whisper, for the men had not yet been made aware of the fact.

"Yes, I did; but it is not _quite_ done; that is matter for thankfulness."

"Oh, according to that principle," observed the doctor, somewhat testily, "you may say we have cause to be thankful for _everything_, bad as well as good."

"So we have! so we have! If everything good were taken from us, and nothing left us but our lives, we would have reason to be thankful for that--thankful that we were still above ground, still in the land of hope, with salvation to our immortal souls through Jesus Christ freely offered for our acceptance."

The doctor made no reply. He thought the captain a little weak in the matter of religion. If religion is false, his opinion of the captain no doubt, was right, but if true, surely the weakness lay all the other way.

That morning the captain's voice in prayer was more earnest, if possible, than usual, and he put up a special pet.i.tion for _water_, which was observed by the men with feelings of great anxiety, and responded to with a deep amen. After morning worship the scales were brought, and the captain proceeded to weigh out the scanty meal, while the men watched his every motion with an almost wolfish glare, that told eloquently of the prolonged sufferings they had endured. Even poor Ailie's gentle face now wore a sharp, anxious expression when food was being served out, and she accepted her small portion with a nervous haste that was deeply painful and touching to witness. She little knew, poor child, that that portion of bread and meat and water, small though it was, was larger than that issued to the men, being increased by a small quant.i.ty deducted from the captain's own allowance and an equal amount from that of Glynn. The latter had noticed the captain's habit of regularly calling off the child's attention during the distribution of each meal, for the purpose of thus increasing her portion at the expense of his own, and in a whispering conversation held soon after he insisted that a little of his allowance should also be transferred to her. At first the captain firmly refused, but Glynn said that if he did not accede to his wish he would hand over the whole of his portion in future to the monkey, let the result be what it might! As Glynn never threatened without a full and firm resolve to carry out his threats, the captain was compelled to give in.

When the water came to be served out that morning the captain paused, and looking round at the anxious eyes that were riveted upon him, said--

"My lads, it has pleased the Almighty to lay His hand still heavier on us. May He who has said that He will not suffer men to be tempted above what they are able to bear, give us strength to stand it. Our water is almost done. We must be content with a quarter of our usual allowance."

This information was received in deep silence--perhaps it was the silence of despair, for the quant.i.ty hitherto served out had been barely sufficient to moisten their parched throats, and they _knew_ that they could not exist long on the reduced allowance.

Jacko came with the rest as usual for his share, and held out his little hand for the tin cup in which his few drops of water were wont to be handed to him. The captain hesitated and looked at the men; then he poured out a few drops of the precious liquid. For the first time a murmur of disapproval was heard.

"It's only a brute beast; the monkey must die before _us_," said a voice which was so hollow and changed that it could scarcely be recognised as that of Tarquin, the steward.

No one else said a word. The captain did not even look up to see who had spoken. He felt the justice as well as the harshness of the remark, and poured the water back into the jar.

Jacko seems puzzled at first, and held out his hand again; then he looked round on the men with that expression of unutterable woe which is peculiar to some species of the monkey tribe. He seemed to feel that something serious was about to happen to him. Looking up in the sad face of his young mistress, he uttered a very gentle and plaintive "oo-oo-ee!"

Ailie burst into a pa.s.sionate flood of tears, and in the impulse of the moment handed her own cup, which she had not tasted, to Jacko, who drained it in a twinkling--before the captain could s.n.a.t.c.h it from his hands.

Having emptied it, Jacko went forward as he had been taught to do, and handed back the cup with quite a pleased expression of countenance--for he was easily satisfied, poor thing!

"You should not have done that, my darling," said the captain, as he gave Ailie another portion.

"Dear papa, I couldn't help it," sobbed the child; "indeed I couldn't-- and you need not give me any. I can do without it to-day."

"Can you? But you shan't," exclaimed Glynn, with a degree of energy that would have made every one laugh in happier times.

"No, no, my own pet," replied the captain. "You shan't want it. Here, you _must_ drink it, come."

From that day Jacko received his allowance regularly as long as a drop of water was left, and no one again murmured against it. When it was finished he had to suffer with the rest.

The calm which had set in proved to be of longer duration than usual, and the sufferings of the crew of the little boat became extreme. On the third day after its commencement the last drop of water was served out. It amounted to a couple of teaspoonfuls per man each meal, of which there were three a day. During the continuance of the calm, the sun shone in an almost cloudless sky and beat down upon the heads of the men until it drove them nearly mad. They all looked like living skeletons, and their eyes glared from their sunken sockets with a dry fiery l.u.s.tre that was absolutely terrible to behold. Had each one in that boat possessed millions of gold he would have given all, gladly, for one drop of fresh water; but, alas! nothing could purchase water there. Ailie thought upon the man who, in the Bible, is described as looking up to heaven from the depths of h.e.l.l and crying for one drop of water to cool his tongue, and she fancied that she could now realise his agony. The captain looked up into the hot sky, but no blessed cloud appeared there to raise the shadow of a hope. He looked down at the sea, and it seemed to mock him with its clear blue depths, which looked so sweet and pleasant. He realised the full significance of that couplet in Coleridge's _Ancient Mariner_--

"Water, water, everywhere, But not a drop to drink."

and, drawing Ailie to his breast, he laid his cheek upon hers and groaned aloud.

"We shall soon be taken away, dear papa!" she said--and she tried to weep, but the tears that came unbidden and so easily at other times to her bright blue eyes refused to flow now.

The men had one by one ceased to ply their useless oars, and the captain did not take notice of it, for he felt that unless G.o.d sent relief in some almost miraculous way, their continuing to row would be of no avail. It would only increase their agony without advancing them more than a few miles on the long, long voyage that he knew still lay before them.

"O G.o.d, grant us a breeze!" cried Mr Millons, in a deep, tremulous tone breaking a silence that had continued for some hours.

"Messmates," said Tim Rokens, who for some time had leaned with both elbows on his oar and his face buried in his hands, "wot d'ye say to a bath? I do believe it 'ud do us good."

"P'haps it would," replied King b.u.mble; but he did not move, and the other men made no reply, while Rokens again sank forward.

Gurney and Tarquin had tried to relieve their thirst the day before by drinking sea-water, but their inflamed and swollen throats and lips now showed that the relief sought had not been obtained.