The Voyage of the Aurora Part 12

George then sprang into the mizzen-rigging and looked anxiously out over the glittering surface of the sea, in the effort to catch a glimpse of the man, should he happen to be still above water. It was not, however, until the _Aurora_ was fairly crossing the wake of the burning ship-- which by this time had drifted a considerable distance to leeward--that he was successful. Then, indeed, he did for an instant detect a small dark object on the crest of a sea, standing out in bold relief against the bright ruddy reflection of the flames in the water beyond it.

Almost at the instant that he caught sight of it, he lost it again as it disappeared in the hollow of the swell, then once more it rose into view, clearly and unmistakably the head of a man.

"All right, I see him," he exclaimed. "Now then, Mr Bowen, is the boat ready? I am going to that poor fellow's a.s.sistance, so back the main-topsail, if you please, and send the boat after us as quickly as you can."

As the last words left George's mouth his hands rose above his head, his body curved itself over towards the water, and in an instant he shot downward out of the rigging swiftly as a sea-bird making its swoop, and entered the water without a splash.

On coming to the surface, Captain Leicester struck vigorously out at once in the direction of the burning ship, knowing that the man he sought was exactly in line with her, but that he would probably not see him until he was close upon him. He swam steadily on, not hurrying himself, but husbanding his strength as much as possible, and in about ten minutes he caught sight of the object of which he was in search.

But the manner in which that object presented itself to his view was so startling that George's first impulse was to turn round and swim back towards the _Aurora_ with all speed, an impulse which, however, was only felt to be instantly overcome. The man was suddenly revealed, within some six feet or so of George's grasp, as the latter rose upon the crest of a sea; but, instead of swimming as George expected he would be, the unfortunate creature was lying on his back, his ghastly white face upturned to the sky, and his eyes fixed and staring, with that terrible indescribable expression in them which tells at once and unmistakably the dreadful tale of _madness_.

Very naturally, our hero felt a little doubtful as to the expediency of placing himself within the grasp of a madman; he therefore, before closing with him, exclaimed in a loud, cheery voice--

"Hillo, there! are you tired? If so, just say the word, and I'll drop alongside and lend you a hand."

For all the visible effect this speech had on the stranger he might as well have been stone-deaf, for he vouchsafed not the slightest notice.

George shouted again, with a like result, and then--still feeling very doubtful as to the best mode of proceeding--he struck out, and swam quietly round the ghastly floating figure. A stroke or two sufficed to place him in such a position as enabled him at last to get a clear and distinct view of the stranger's features, fully illumined by the glare of the flames, and instant recognition followed.

"Walford!" he exclaimed. Then, without another moment's hesitation, he dashed up and, throwing himself upon his back, seized his rival by the hair and drew him into such a position as permitted of his taking Walford's head upon his shoulder and supporting it high enough above the surface to prevent the sea washing over it and so suffocating him.

Walford offered no resistance, and gave not the faintest sign of being aware of George's presence; and there the two lay, quietly floating on the bosom of the long heaving swell, until the boat came to their a.s.sistance and conveyed them both on board the _Aurora_.

On reaching the ship, George had his rival promptly stripped, rubbed vigorously down, and comfortably bestowed in his own berth, well and warmly wrapped up in blankets, with Tom Price--one of the forecastle hands, and a very smart, intelligent young fellow--to watch over him.

After which, the skipper gave a little attention to his own comfort, and finally went on deck once more, it being by that time too late to think of turning in again.

By the time that George regained the deck, the _Aurora_ had crept to a distance of about four miles from the _Princess Royal_. The unfortunate craft was by that time blazing fiercely fore and aft, the fire having at last reached her store-room, in which there was a considerable quant.i.ty of highly inflammable material; and half an hour afterwards her powder-magazine (almost every ship of any size in those days was provided with a magazine) exploded; and the charred fragments of half-consumed timber, which were widely scattered over the now sleepily heaving surface of the sea, alone remained as relics of the once n.o.ble and stately ship, the destruction of which had been the last link in a chain of disastrous occurrences resulting primarily from the overbearing, tyrannical, and imprudent behaviour of her officers.

With the appearance of the sun above the horizon the clouds gradually disappeared, the wind dropped, the surface of the ocean became like heaving oil; and the _Aurora_, losing steerage-way, rolled almost gunwale-to, with her canvas flapping loudly and monotonously against her masts.

About two bells (or nine o'clock) one of the hands, upon being sent aloft to "grease down," reported a sail in the southern quarter, and on the usual inquiry being put to him, as to what he made her out to be, he replied that she was a small topsail-schooner.

"A small topsail-schooner!" muttered George. "I wonder what she can be; I cannot remember having seen any such craft in the fleet. Ritson,"--to the carpenter who had charge of the deck,--"do you remember having seen a topsail-schooner among the fleet?"

"No, sir; can't say as I do," answered Ritson. "Don't believe there _was_ any such craft, sir; the smallest, as I remembers was that purty little brig painted all white down to her water-line; perhaps you recollects her, sir?"

"Yes," said Leicester, "I recollect the craft perfectly well; and, as far as my memory serves me, she _was_, as you say, the smallest craft in company."

The conversation here dropped for a time, George resuming the somewhat dejected saunter fore and aft from the main-mast to the taffrail, and the half-unconscious whistling for a wind, in which he had before been indulging. His pursuit of this monotonous and uninteresting occupation was interrupted by the steward, who requested him to step down into the cabin, "to take a look at the man as was picked up this morning; as he seems to be took a bit worse, sir."

George at once went below, and found Walford sitting up in the berth, muttering to himself disconnectedly and occasionally addressing with great earnestness the watchful Tom, whose horror-stricken face plainly revealed that his patient's random observations had been of a somewhat startling character. On entering the state-room, Leicester at once addressed Walford, asking him whether he felt better; and the unfortunate man glanced for a moment in George's face with an air of semi-recognition; but this immediately pa.s.sed away, and the incoherent mutterings went on again as before.

"That's just how he've been goin' on for the last half-'our," explained Tom; "talkin' about 'murder' and 'hangin',' and being left to burn in the ship; it's enough to give one the 'orrors to listen to him."

George sat down by the side of the cot and listened patiently for nearly an hour to Walford's rambling talk; and, although he was unable to make out from it a clearly-connected story, he heard enough to give him a shrewd idea of the truth, and to convince him that a terrible tragedy of some kind had occurred on board the ill-fated _Princess Royal_. The patient at length grew calm once more, and, lying back upon his pillow, seemed inclined to sleep, upon which George quietly rose and went on deck again to see how matters were proceeding there.

As he meditatively made his way up the companion-ladder, he could not help thinking of the singularity of this last meeting between him and his rival, and comparing it with the one which had occurred on that lovely June evening, on the road to Stoke. As the two men stood there on the white dusty road, with the rays of the declining sun darting down upon them through the foliage of the overhanging trees, and as Walford told the story of his just concluded engagement to Lucy, how little, thought George, could either of them suspect that, when they next came into such close contact, it would be literally on the bosom of the broad Atlantic, up-borne by nothing save its restless waters. Poor Leicester was greatly disturbed by this singular and unconscious claim upon his hospitality which had so recently arisen. He was as generous-hearted a man as the sun ever shone upon, ever ready to give liberally and ungrudgingly to any one who seemed to be in need; but somehow he wished that in the present instance it had fallen to the lot of some one else than himself to play the part of rescuer and benefactor, or that the rescued individual had been any one rather than Walford. The fact was that he wanted to forget, if possible, the keen and bitter pain of his disappointment: and now the presence of his unhappy guest had brought it all back to him and would keep it in poignant remembrance as long as they two should remain together. Then, he bethought himself how selfish a feeling he had been allowing himself to indulge; how utterly he had forgotten that the matter was one with which Lucy's happiness must be inseparably connected; and that fate--or Providence, rather, as he reverently corrected himself--had in a very great measure confided that happiness to his keeping, by delivering into his care the man upon whom she had bestowed the priceless treasure of her heart's best love. And as he thought this, he solemnly vowed that he would honestly strive to prove worthy of the trust; that he would be to Lucy's lover a brother-- ay, _more_ than a brother; that he would nurse and tend him, restore to him his reason if G.o.d willed it, and, in any case, watch over and protect him--at the cost of his own life even, if need were--until he could restore him to the arms of the woman who was impatiently awaiting at home his safe return.

"His well-being has been confided to me as a sacred trust," he murmured in conclusion, "and, please G.o.d, I will prove myself worthy of it."

With this resolution he dismissed the subject temporarily from his thoughts, and turned his attention once more to the affairs of the ship.

Glancing aloft, and then all round the horizon, he observed that it had fallen a flat calm, and that moreover there was no immediate prospect of a breeze. The sky was a clear deep blue in the zenith, merging by imperceptible gradations into a delicate warm grey at the horizon. The water was absolutely without a ripple, there was not so much as the faintest suggestion of a "cat's-paw" on all its gla.s.sy surface; and save for the long sluggish sweep and heave of the swell which, as it undulated past the ship, caught and reflected the varying tints of the sky, it would have been difficult to detect the presence of water at all at a distance of more than a few yards from the ship. The _Aurora_ was still rolling sluggishly on the sleepy swell; her dazzling white canvas flapping and the slings and trusses of the yards creaking with the roll; the men, rendered languid by the heat, were making such show as they were able of being busy on various odd jobs about the decks or aloft; and the man at the wheel had lashed it and was leaning upon it more than half-asleep. Ritson, apparently for want of something better to do, was seated on the main-topmast cross-trees, with the ship's telescope in his hand, scrutinising the motions of the distant schooner, whose tiny "royal" was now visible from the deck, gleaming white as snow on the extreme verge of the horizon.

Noting all these things at a glance, George turned to saunter aft, thinking that on such a perfectly calm day, and with such still water, he might, by leaning well out over the taffrail, get a glimpse of the ship's bottom and see whether it had fouled at all, or whether the copper showed any signs of wrinkling. Arrived at the taffrail, he leaned well out over it, and peered down into the water. The first thing which attracted his notice was the deep, pure, beautiful ultramarine tint of the water, as he gazed far down into its unfathomable depths; the next was, the presence of a long greyish-brown object under the ship's counter, which had escaped his notice at first in consequence of its being in the deepest shadow of the hull. A moment sufficed to satisfy him that it was a huge shark; and as the creature caught sight of him, and with a barely perceptible movement of its fins, backed out a foot or two from under the ship, as if in preparation to make a dart at him in case he should fall into the water, George shuddered at the thought of what might have been his or Walford's fate, had the monster been in the neighbourhood of the ship a few hours earlier.

Sliding his body gently inboard again, Leicester turned to the dozing helmsman, and exclaimed--

"Here, you Ned; rouse up, man. There's a big shark under the counter, so get out the shark-hook, ask the cook for a piece of good fat pork, and muster the watch aft in readiness to haul him inboard, in case we can coax him into swallowing the bait."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A SUSPICIOUS SAIL.

The man hurried away joyously to do George's bidding, hailing his comrades aloft to "knock off work and come shark-fishing, all you sea-dogs aloft there," as soon as he had placed a sufficiently respectful distance between himself and his skipper. There is no sport or pastime in which sailors will engage more eagerly than in the attempt to capture a shark; they regard the creature as their worst and most relentless enemy, and never willingly let slip an opportunity to catch and destroy one, frequently venting their hatred upon the unfortunate fish, when caught, in the utmost refinement of cruelty. Accordingly, no sooner was Ned's hail heard than, dropping incontinently whatever work they happened to be engaged on, the whole watch, Ritson included, hurried down on deck and aft to the taffrail, to take a share in the sport Ritson, by virtue of his superior rank, a.s.sumed the lead at once, and as a matter of course. Taking the hook with its swivel and chain attached, and a piece of fat pork, some three or four pounds in weight, from the now lively and wide-awake Ned, he called out for "a bit of stoutish line," busying himself meanwhile in burying the hook cunningly in the bait, in order that the shark might not see it--for it is a well-established fact that these monsters, unless very hungry, are acute enough to refuse a bait if the hook is not well hidden. The line, in the shape of the gaff-topsail halliard-fall, hastily unrove for the occasion, was soon forthcoming, and the hook, being at last baited to the second mate's satisfaction, bent on to the chain.

"Now stand clear," commanded Ritson, as he prepared to pitch the bait overboard, "stand clear all of yer; and when I gives the word to 'haul in,' walk away for'ard with the line and bring his head out of water."

A long steady pendulum-like swing or two of the bait followed, and then away it went out over the stern and into the water with a splash.

Leicester who was leaning over the taffrail and watching the proceedings with the greatest interest, saw the great fish turn like a flash and rush to the spot where the bait had fallen, turning himself over on his side as he did so.

"Hurrah! He bites; he's got it," shouted one of the men eagerly. But he spoke rather too soon; Jack Shark was not to be caught quite so easily. Instead of opening his great jaws and swallowing the bait, hook and all, at a gulp, as was expected, he stopped dead in his rush, and began to poke the bait about suspiciously with the point of his shovel-shaped nose; and finally, with a contemptuous whisk of his tail, left it, and resumed his former position under the ship's quarter.

Great was the disappointment of the younger hands at this failure.

"He ain't hungry," explained one.

"Ain't he?" contemptuously retorted another. "Just you drop overboard and try him, bo'; why he'd take you--sou'wester, water-boots, and all-- down that main-hatchway of his'n without winking, and then come back and axe for more. No, no; 'taint that, mates; he's _waiting_ for somebody, most likely for the poor chap as the skipper picked up this mornin'!"

"Come, stow all that rubbish!" exclaimed the second mate; "how do you expect we're going to catch the brute if you all stand there palavering like so many fish-wives? It's enough to frighten him away altogether.

Clap a stopper on your jaw-tackles now, all of you; and give me a chance to play him a bit."

The speaker thereupon, by sundry dexterous movements of the wrist, imparted a gentle wriggling motion to the line, which in its turn conveyed a corresponding motion to the bait, the latter being slowly drawn through the water at the same time. This was too much for the shark's equanimity; and he made another dash at the bait, still refusing to swallow it however. The second mate then tried the virtue of a few quick jerks upon the bait, as though drawing it away from the creature, which had the effect of causing him to turn once more on his side, and make a snap at it, actually taking it into his mouth. Still he would neither swallow it nor close his jaws upon it, but unresistingly suffered it to be jerked out of his mouth again.

"We'll have him yet, boys," Ritson exclaimed. "Pay out the line to its bare end."

This was done, the shark keeping close to the bait, turning it over and over with his nose, but persistently refusing to take it.

"Now walk away steadily for'ard with your line, and stand by for a surge," was the next command.

Away went the men, dragging the line after them, and towing the bait through the water. The shark followed it closely up; and at last, just as the pork was being dragged out of the water altogether, he made a determined jump at it, swallowing it and the hook together; and the next moment the men were brought-up "all standing" by the tremendous strain on the line as the hook buried its barbed point in the creature's body, while the water was lashed into foam and splashed clear in over the barque's taffrail in the fish's frantic efforts to free itself.

"Hurrah!" exclaimed Ritson. "_Now_ you have him, lads. Hold on every inch of line, or he'll break away from you yet. Bear a hand here, one of you. Take the spanker-sheet and throw a running-bowline round the line, so's we can get it down over his fins. That's your sort, Ned; don't let him get it into his jaws. Cleverly done; haul taut. _Now_ we have him safe. Lead the sheet for'ard, let all hands tail on to it, and we'll run him up out of the water and in on deck."

The bowline in the end of the sheet having been successfully pa.s.sed over the fish's shoulders and under his fins, the rope was laid along the deck, and the watch, leaving one by one the line to which the hook was attached, got hold of the sheet, and then with a joyous shout of "Stamp and go, boys; walk away with him," they dragged the monster, still struggling furiously, up out of the water and in on deck over the taffrail.

For a moment the huge fish lay perfectly still, then he began to plunge about and lash right and left with his tail in a manner which caused the whole ship to resound with the terrific blows; rousing the watch below, and causing them to "tumble up" _en ma.s.se_ to ascertain the nature of the disturbance.

"'Ware tail," exclaimed the second mate warningly. "If any of you chaps catches a smack with it across your shins it'll snap 'em like pipe-stems. Where's the cook's axe?"