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Pirate Island: A Story of the South Pacific

<h3>Chapter Eight.</h3> <h4>At the mercy of wind and wave.</h4> The silence which followed the disappearance of the Galatea was broken by a plaintive wail from little May, who sobbed out that she was “Oh! so sorry that poor papa’s beautiful ship was all burned up.” Her sorrows, however, were speedily charmed away by the representation made to her by her mother that if the ship had not been burnt they would probably never have thought of going for a delightful sail in the boats, as they now were; and soon afterwards the poor overtired child fell into a deep dreamless sleep in her mother’s arms. As everything had been made ready in the launch before she left the ship’s side, the ladies had now nothing to do but make themselves thoroughly comfortable for the night on and among the blankets and skin rugs which had been arranged for them in the stern-sheets. A cosy enough little cabin, of necessarily very limited dimensions, was also arranged in the bows of the boat for the gentlemen; and to this, upon Captain Staunton’s assurance that their services would certainly not be needed for at least some hours, Rex and Lance betook themselves, accompanied by Bob and young Neville, the former of whom was to keep watch alternately with the skipper. The night now being so far advanced, Captain Staunton announced to the occupants of the other boats his intention to wait for daylight before making sail; and, the tired crews at once composing themselves to slumber, silence soon fell upon the little fleet of boats which lay there riding lightly over the majestic slowly-heaving swell of the Pacific under the solemn starlight. The hours of night passed peacefully away; and the watchers on board the several boats at length saw the velvety darkness in the eastern quarter paling before the approaching day. The stars, which but a short time before had risen into view over the dark rim of the horizon, dwindled into lustreless insignificance and finally disappeared; the sky grew momentarily paler and bluer in tint, the light sweeping imperceptibly higher and wider over the ethereal vault; then suddenly above the eastern horizon appeared a faint delicate rosy flush, followed by a brilliant golden pencilling of the lower edges of a few flecks of cloud invisible before: long shafts of golden light sprang radiating upward from a point below the horizon; and in another moment the upper edge of a great golden disc rose into view, flooding the laughing waves with shimmering radiance, and transforming in a moment the hitherto silent and sombre scene into one of joyousness and life. Sea birds hovered screaming high in the air, on the look-out for breakfast; flying-fish sparkled like glittering gems out of the bosom of the heaving deep; dolphins leaped and darted here and there; a school of porpoises rotated lazily past, heading to the westward; and away upon the very verge of the horizon a large school of whales appeared spouting and playing. It was day again. Bob at once, in accordance with his instructions, called Captain Staunton, who had lain down an hour or two before to snatch a little rest. The skipper, who had turned-in “all standing,” that is to say, without undressing, soon made his appearance; and, first glancing keenly all round the horizon in the vain hope of discovering a sail, at once hailed the other boats, ordering them to make sail and to proceed upon a north-easterly course, extending themselves in line to the right and left, and to maintain as great a distance apart during the day as would be compatible with an easy interchange of communication by signal; to keep a sharp look-out all day; and to close in again upon the launch at nightfall. The order was promptly obeyed, and in five minutes afterwards the little fleet were dancing gaily along over the low liquid hills of the Pacific swell, tossing tiny showers of spray out on each side from their bows, and leaving a long glistening wake of miniature whirlpools behind them. The slight bustle of making sail on the boats, combined with the novelty of their situation, was sufficient to rouse all hands; and a few minutes after the boats were fairly under weigh, the ladies and little May emerged from their quarters in the stern-sheets of the launch. The excitement of the previous night had been completely overcome by the fatigue of preparation to desert the ship, and the lateness of the hour of retirement had secured for these, our heroines, a few hours of sound repose, so that when they made their appearance aft, refreshed by sleep and exhilarated by the pure bracing morning breeze, they looked and felt as little like castaways as one can well imagine. Indeed, they appeared more disposed to regard the adventure as a pleasantly exciting escapade than anything else—a state of feeling which the gentlemen of the party were careful to foster and encourage by every means in their power, judging it highly probable that there would be enough and more than enough to damp their high spirits before this singular boat-voyage, just commenced, should be over. On board the launch, the fortunes of which we propose to follow for the present, all was pleasant activity. Even the skipper, whose reflections must necessarily have been of a somewhat sombre character, glad to observe such a prevalence of good spirits among his fellow voyagers, resolutely put all disagreeable thoughts behind him, and chimed in with the others, feeling the importance of prolonging to its utmost extent so favourable and pleasant a state of affairs. Lance, whose experiences in the Australian bush had evidently made him fertile of resource, now rummaged out from among his baggage a diminutive but effective cooking apparatus, the fuel for which was supplied from a goodly jar of spirit stowed away in the eyes of the boat; and, initiating the steward into the peculiarities of its management and explaining to him its capabilities, an appetising breakfast of coffee and fried chops, cut from the carcass of a sheep hastily slaughtered the previous night, was soon served out to the occupants of the boat. Fishing-lines were afterwards produced, and, if the sport was meagre and the amount of fish captured but small, the expedient had at least the good effect of providing occupation and amusement for the ladies during the greater part of the day. As the weather continued fine, and there was absolutely nothing to do but to steer the boat upon a given course and keep a bright look-out, Captain Staunton seized the opportunity to take a good long spell of sleep, not only to make up for that lost on the previous night, but also to lay in a stock, as it were, against the time when probably many long and weary hours would have to be passed without it. Lance and Rex took the helm in turns throughout the day, while the ladies tended the fishing-lines, chatted with their male companions, or played with little May, as the humour took them. About an hour before sunset a small red flag was hoisted on board the launch as a signal for the other boats to close, the signal being repeated by each boat as soon as it was observed and kept flying until the most distant craft had answered it by bearing up or hauling to the wind as the case might be; and by the time that the stars were fairly out the little fleet was once more sailing along in a close and compact body. So ended the first day in the boats. This pleasant and satisfactory state of affairs lasted for five days, and then came a change. On the afternoon of the fifth day light fleecy vapours began to gather in the sky, growing thicker as the afternoon waned, until by sunset the entire canopy of heaven was veiled by huge masses of dense slate-coloured cloud, which swept heavily across the firmament from the eastward. The aneroid which Captain Staunton had ordered to be put oh board the launch indicated a considerable decrease of atmospheric pressure, which, coupled with the appearance of the sky, led the skipper to believe that bad weather was at hand; accordingly, when the other boats closed in upon the launch at sundown, word was passed along the line to keep a sharp look-out and to be prepared for any change which might occur. About nine p.m. the wind died almost completely away; and shortly afterwards a few heavy drops of rain fell, speedily followed by a drenching shower. This killed the remaining light air of wind, and the boats lay idly upon the water, their saturated canvas flapping heavily against the masts. But not for long; the sails were speedily lowered down and spread across from gunwale to gunwale to catch the precious moisture, and so heavy was the downpour that in the quarter of an hour during which the shower lasted the voyagers were enabled to almost entirely refill their breakers, the contents of which had by this time very materially diminished. The rain ceased suddenly, and a few minutes afterwards a puff of wind, hot as the breath of a furnace, swept over the boats from the north-east, and passed away, leaving a breathless calm as before. This was repeated twice or thrice; and then with a heavier puff than before a stiff breeze set in from the north-east, breaking off the boats from their course, and necessitating their hauling close upon a wind on the port tack. By midnight the wind had increased so much that it became necessary to reef; the launch and pinnace double-reefing their canvas in order that they might not run away from the other boats. The sea now began to rise rapidly, and when day at length broke it revealed a dismal picture of dark tempestuous sky, leaden-grey ocean, its surface broken up into high, racing, foam-capped seas, and the little fleet of boats tossing wildly upon the angry surges, the launch leading, the pinnace next, and the others so far astern that it took Captain Staunton quite ten minutes to satisfy himself that they were all still in sight. It was by this time blowing a moderate gale, and appearances seemed to indicate that downright bad weather was not far off; the captain decided, therefore, to heave-to at once, as it would be quite impossible in any other way to keep the little fleet together. The canvas on board the launch was accordingly still further reduced, the jib-sheet hauled over to windward, and the boat left to fight it out as best she could. The pinnace soon afterwards joined company and followed suit, the remainder of the boats doing the same as they came up. As the day wore on the gale increased in strength, the sea rising proportionally and flinging the boats about like corks upon its angry surface. So violent was the motion that it was only with the utmost difficulty the steward succeeded in preparing a hot meal at mid-day, and when evening came our adventurers were obliged to content themselves with what Lance laughingly called “a cold collation.” The day was indeed a wretched one; there was no temptation whatever to leave such slight shelter as the tiny cabins afforded, for the launch, and indeed all the other boats as well, were constantly enveloped in spray blown from the caps of the seas by the wind, while, cooped up below, it was unpleasantly warm, and the motion of the boat was so violent that her occupants were compelled to wedge themselves firmly in one position to avoid being dashed against their companions. If the day was one of discomfort, the night which followed was infinitely worse. The gale continued steadily to increase; the sea rose to a tremendous height, breaking heavily; the spray flew continuously over the launch in drenching showers; the little craft, under the merest shred of canvas, was careened gunwale-to by the force of the wind every time she rose upon the crest of a sea, and the most watchful care of the skipper, who had stationed himself at the helm, was sometimes insufficient to prevent a more than ordinarily heavy sea from breaking on board. The increasing frequency of these occurrences at length necessitated the maintenance of one hand continually at the baler in order to keep the boat free of water, and in spite of all the ladies were unable to escape a thorough wetting. Nor was this the worst mishap. The water rose so high in the interior of the boat on one or two occasions that it got at the provisions, so seriously damaging some of them that there was little hope of their being rendered again fit for consumption. It was a most fortunate circumstance for those in the launch that, thanks to the captain’s foresight, she had been fitted with a partial deck, otherwise she must inevitably have been swamped. How it fared with the other boats it was impossible to say; the darkness was too profound to permit of their being seen, if they still remained afloat; but the manner in which the launch suffered caused the skipper to entertain the gravest apprehensions for the rest of the fleet, and he almost dreaded the return of daylight lest it should reveal to him the realisation of his worst fears. It seemed to the occupants of the launch as though that miserable night would never end. The tardy dawn, however, made its appearance at last, reluctantly, as it seemed to those drenched and weary watchers, and the moment that there was light enough to enable him to see distinctly Captain Staunton staggered to his feet, and steadying himself by grasping the boat’s main-mast, took a long anxious look all round the horizon. At first he could distinguish nothing save the wildly rushing foam-capped seas, and the scurrying shreds of cloud which swept rapidly athwart the black and stormy sky; but after some minutes of painfully anxious scrutiny he descried, about three miles away to leeward, a tiny dark object, appearing at intervals against the leaden-grey of the horizon, which his seaman’s eye told him was the pinnace. The remainder of the fleet had disappeared. It was no more than a realisation of his forebodings; but Captain Staunton possessed far too feeling a heart not to be powerfully affected by the loss of the two boats and the thirteen brave fellows who manned them. He ran over their names mentally, and recalled that no less than nine of the thirteen had arranged for half their pay to be handed over to their families at home; and he pictured to himself the bitter grief and distress there would be in those nine families when it came to be known that the husband, the father, the bread-winner was gone, overwhelmed and swallowed up by the remorseless ocean which knows no pity, not even for the wife and the helpless children. With a powerful effort the captain dismissed these painful reflections from his mind, and turned his attention to matters nearer home. He had already searchingly scrutinised the aspect of the weather with most unsatisfactory results. As far as his experience went there was every prospect of a continuance—nay more, an increase—of the gale. The sky to windward looked wilder and more threatening than ever; while that the sea was still rising was a fact about which there could be no mistake. He dived into the little cabin or shelter aft, and took a long look at the aneroid, to find that it still manifested a downward tendency. It was evidently hopeless to expect a favourable change in the weather for some hours at least, and to attempt any longer to maintain the boat’s position, in the face of an increasing gale, was to expose her and those in her to imminent risk of destruction; he therefore decided to watch his opportunity and seize the first favourable moment for bearing up and running before it. Bob and his fellow apprentices, together with Lance and Rex, were soon summoned, and preparations made for bearing up. It was an anxious moment, for should the boat be caught broadside-on by a breaking sea she would to a dead certainty be turned bottom-up, when nothing could save her occupants. Captain Staunton stood at the tiller, intently watching the onward rush of the mountainous seas as they came swooping down with upreared threatening crests upon the launch. Presently, as the boat fell off a trifle from the wind and the main-sail filled, he gave the order to “let draw the jib-sheet.” The weather sheet was let go and the lee one hauled in like lightning, and the boat began to forge ahead. A sea came swooping down upon the little craft, but it was not a dangerous one; the skipper sent the boat manfully at it, and with a wild bound she rose over the crest and plunged into the liquid valley beyond. The next sea was a much more formidable one, but by luffing the boat just in the nick of time she went through and over it, with no worse consequences than the shipping of a dozen or so buckets of water, a mishap to which they were by this time growing quite accustomed, and then there occurred a very decided “smooth.” “Brail up the main-sail, boys,” shouted the skipper cheerily, and in a second it was done; the helm was put up, the boat’s head fell off, and away she went with a rush, broadside-on to the sea. With a sickening heave she rose into the air as the next sea lifted her, and this time too a little water came on board, but nothing to speak of; and by the time the next wave caught her, her quarter was fairly turned to it, and she was rushing away before the wind. The fore-sail was then set and the main-sail stowed, and everybody sat down to watch the result. The change was certainly for the better; for though a sea still occasionally broke on board it did so with less violence than before, and most of it now flowed off the deck and overboard again, instead of falling into the body of the boat as before. As soon as the fore-sail was set, Captain Staunton steered for the pinnace, with the intention of ordering her also to bear up, as well as to inquire whether they had seen either of the other boats. Suddenly, Bob, who was watching the little speck in the distance which showed against the horizon when both launch and pinnace happened to be on the summit of a wave together, caught sight for a single instant of what appeared to him to be an attempt at a signal made on board the latter. “Hillo!” he exclaimed, “What’s wrong with the pinnace? They’re waving to us, sir.” “Indeed!” said the skipper in a tone of concern. “Are you sure, Bob? Here, take the tiller for a moment and let me have a look. Keep her dead before it.” “Ay, ay, sir,” responded Bob, as he changed places with his superior; the latter going forward and steadying himself by the fore-mast as he watched for the reappearance of the pinnace. Presently he caught sight of her, and caught sight too, most unmistakably, of a flag—or something doing duty therefor—being very energetically waved on board. “You are right, Bob,” he sharply exclaimed, “they are signalling us. I fervently hope there is nothing wrong with them. Starboard a little; there, steady so. Keep her at that as long as you can, and only run her off when it is absolutely necessary in order to avoid a breaking sea.” In about twenty minutes the launch had reached the pinnace. As the two boats closed, it was seen that all hands on board her were busy baling; and she appeared to be low in the water. When the launch was near enough for a hail to be heard, Mr Bowles stood up and, placing his two hands together at his mouth, so as to form an impromptu speaking trumpet, shouted— “Can you make room for us on board the launch, Captain Staunton? We are stove and sinking.” “Ay, ay,” responded the skipper. “We’ll round-to and come alongside.” He then sprang aft to the tiller, which he seized, shouting at the same time, “To your stations, lads! In with the fore-sail, smartly now.” The sail was speedily taken in; the close-reefed main-sail was set; and the moment that the sheet was hauled aft the helm was jammed hard down and the boat brought to the wind, without wasting a moment to watch for a favourable opportunity. The launch was flying swiftly away from the pinnace, and the latter was sinking; there was therefore no time for watching for opportunities; by the frantic way in which Mr Bowles resumed his task of baling the instant that he had communicated his momentous tidings Captain Staunton saw that the danger on board the pinnace was imminent; and the boat was at once rounded-to, shipping in the operation a sea which half-filled her. “Man the buckets, every man of you,” shouted the skipper as the launch, now close-hauled, began slowly to forge ahead in the direction of the devoted pinnace. The seas broke heavily against the bows of the boat as they swept furiously down upon her; but Bob and his comrades baled like madmen, while the skipper handled the little craft like the consummate seaman he was; and between them all, they managed to keep her above water. “Drop your bucket, Bob, and stand by to heave them a line,” presently shouted the captain. Bob sprang forward, <ANTIMG src="images/pisle126.jpg" alt=""> and seized the end of the long painter which was neatly coiled-up and stopped with a ropeyarn or two. Whipping open his knife he quickly severed the stops, and was just arranging the coil in his hand when Captain Staunton cried sharply— “Heave with a will, Bob. There she goes!” Bob glanced at the pinnace, now some twenty feet distant, just in time to see a heavy sea break fairly on board the water-logged boat and literally bury her. There was a wild cry from her occupants, as they felt the boat sinking under them, and in another instant they were left struggling for their lives in the furious sea. Bob hove the line with all his strength, and with unerring aim into the midst of the little crowd of drowning human beings, and then called for assistance. Some of them he saw had seized it; and he at once began to haul in. The other apprentices with Lance and Rex sprang to his aid, and presently hauled on board Brook and one of the seamen. By this time the launch had crept up to the spot where the pinnace had disappeared; and by reaching out their hands those on board were able to seize and drag inboard three more of the drowning men. Mr Bowles’ body, however, was seen floating face downwards some five-and-twenty feet away; and, close to it, Mr Forester Dale struggling desperately, and uttering wild screams which were every moment changed to choking sobs as the pitiless sea broke relentlessly over his head. It was Bob who first caught sight of these two; and without an instant’s pause or hesitation he sprang headlong from the launch’s gunwale, and with a few powerful strokes reached the struggler. Mr Dale promptly flung both arms and legs round his would-be deliverer, clasping Bob like a vice, and pinioning him so completely that he was unable to move hand or foot. The result was that both instantly sank beneath the surface. Poor Bob thought for a second or two that his last hour was come; and there, in the depths of that wildly-raging sea, he lifted up his whole heart to God in a momentary but earnest prayer for mercy and forgiveness. Doubtless that swift prayer was heard, for as it flashed from his heart he felt his companion’s grip relaxing, and in another instant he had wrenched himself free and was striking strongly upward, with one hand firmly grasping Mr Forester Dale by the collar of his coat. Bob rose to the surface within a few feet of Mr Bowles’ still floating body; and with a violent effort he soon succeeded in reaching it, knowing that, encumbered as he was, he would have to trust the launch to come to him, he could never reach her. As he seized his staunch friend and superior officer by the hair and twisted him over on his back he heard a wild cheer, instantly followed by a cheery shout of “Look out for the line, Bob!” As the sound reached him the rope came flying over him, striking him sharply in the face. He seized it with his teeth; and then heard the skipper’s voice say— “Haul in handsomely now, and take care you don’t jerk; he has gripped it with his teeth.” A very few seconds afterwards, which, however appeared an age to Bob, and he found himself floating alongside the launch, where he was speedily relieved of his two inanimate charges, and finally dragged on board himself, half-drowned, with about ten feet of water in his hold as he expressed it, but full of pluck as ever. The first business claiming attention was of course that of endeavouring to restore consciousness to the inanimate bodies of Mr Dale and the chief mate; and this was at length achieved. Mr Dale was the first to come round; and as soon as he was so far recovered as to be able to speak he was stowed away in the men’s sleeping berth forward, and made as comfortable as circumstances would permit. He lay there, warmly wrapped up, bemoaning for a time his hard fate in ever having come to sea, but at length the spirits which had been liberally poured down his throat took effect, and he dropped off to sleep. Mr Bowles’ case was somewhat more serious, he having received a violent blow on the head from some of the floating wreckage, just after the foundering of the pinnace. The blow had inflicted a long scalp-wound from which the blood flowed freely; and when he at length revived he seemed quite dazed and light-headed, so that it was impossible to get a coherent reply to any of the questions put to him. He too was at last stowed away forward; and Bob, who was somewhat exhausted by his exertions in the water, and scarcely fit for other work, was detailed to watch by and attend to the two invalids. The launch had in the meantime been once more got before the wind, and was again flying to leeward under jib and fore-sail, the mountain-seas pursuing her and necessitating the utmost watchfulness on the part of the helmsman to prevent her from being broached-to. As soon as the two invalids had been satisfactorily disposed of, the order for breakfast was given; and after a vast amount of trouble the meal, consisting of biscuits, fried rashers of bacon, and hot coffee, was served. The company were indebted to the efforts of Rex and Lance for the cooking; they having taken counsel together and come to the conclusion that after a night of such great discomfort it was absolutely necessary that the females at least should be served with a good substantial hot meal; and they had accordingly joined forces in the preparation of the same, Lance seating himself coolly in the bottom of the boat, with the water washing all round him, and balancing the cooking apparatus carefully on his knees while Rex knelt before him enacting the part of chief cook. This meal, unromantic as it may sound to say so, was inexpressibly comforting to those weak women and poor little May, all of them having passed a wretched sleepless night, cooped up in the close confined covered-in space in the stern of the launch, which, for want of a more appropriate name has been termed a cabin, with the water in the bottom of the boat surging up round them and wetting them to the skin as the boat tossed on the angry surges, while the continuous breaking of the seas on board filled their souls with dread that the boat could not possibly outlive the gale much longer. When all hands were fairly settled down to the discussion of breakfast, Captain Staunton turned to the carpenter, who had established himself close beside the skipper, and said— “Now, Chips, let us hear how the mishap came about whereby you lost the pinnace this morning;—but, before you answer me that question, tell me do you know anything about the other boats?” “Well, sir,” responded Chips, “I can’t say as I do, rightly. But when day broke this mornin’ an’ we first missed ’em, Mister Bowles, he jumped up and took a good look round, and the first thing he made out were the launch away to wind’ard, hove-to. Then he had another good look all round, and presently I see him put his hand up to his eyes and stand looking away down to leeward. ‘Do you see anythink, sir?’ says I. And he says—still with his hand up shadin’ his eyes—‘I don’t know, Chips,’ says he, ‘but I’m most certain,’ says he, ‘that one of them boats is thereaway,’ pointin’ with his finger away down to leeward. ‘It’s too dark and thick down there to see werry distinctly,’ he says, ‘but every now and then I keeps fancyin’ I can see a small dark spot like a boat’s sail showin’ up in the middle of the haze,’ says he. And I don’t doubt, sir,” continued Chips, “but what he did see one of them boats; Mr Bowles has a eye, as we all knows, sir, what ain’t very often deceived.” “In which case,” remarks the skipper, thinking aloud rather than addressing the carpenter, “there can be no doubt that the officer in charge, finding it impossible to face the gale any longer in safety, bore up like ourselves, only a little earlier. And if one of the boats did so, why not the other? And why should they not both be safely scudding before it at this moment, some ten miles or so ahead of us?” “Very true, sir; I don’t doubt but it’s just as you say, sir,” responded the carpenter, who was in some uncertainty as to whether he was expected to reply to the skipper’s remark or not. “We will hope so at all events, Chips,” cheerily returned the skipper. “And now tell me how you managed to get the pinnace stove?” “Well, sir, the fact is, it were just the doin’ of that miserable creatur, Mister Dale. Our water were gettin’ low; and yesterday Mr Bowles ups and puts us on ’lowance—a pint a day for each man. Well, I s’pose it weren’t enough for this here Mister Dale; he got thirsty durin’ the night, and made his way to the water-breakers to get a drink on the quiet. And he was that sly over it that nobody noticed him. Hows’ever, like the lubber he is—axing your pardon humbly, sir, for speakin’ disrespectable of one of your passengers, sir—he lets the dipper slip in between the breakers; and in tryin’ to get it out again he managed to cast off the lashin’s; two of the breakers struck adrift; and before we could do anything with ’em they had started three of the planks, makin’ the boat leak that bad that, as you saw yourself, sir, it were all we could do to keep her above water until you reached us.” Captain Staunton made no comment upon this communication, though it is probable that he thought all the more. The loss of the pinnace was, particularly at this juncture, a most serious misfortune. For at the very time when, in consequence of the bad weather with which she had to contend, it was of the utmost importance that the launch should be in the best possible trim, she was suddenly encumbered with the additional weight of seven extra men, which, with the twelve persons previously on board, raised her complement to nineteen, and caused her to be inconveniently crowded. Then these additional seven men had to be fed out of the rapidly diminishing stores belonging to the launch, for not an ounce of anything had been saved from the pinnace. This rendered it imperatively necessary that all hands should at once be put upon a very short allowance of food and water; a hardship trying enough to the men of the party, but doubly so to the women and poor little May. However, no one murmured or offered the slightest objection to the arrangement, when at mid-day Captain Staunton explained the state of affairs and laid before the party his proposal. Except Mr Dale. That individual, on hearing the proposition, promptly crawled out of his snug shelter, and hastened to remind the skipper that he, the speaker, was an invalid; that his health, already undermined by the privations and exposure which he had been lately called upon to suffer, had been completely broken up, and his nervous system shattered by his recent immersion; that what might be perfectly right and proper treatment for people in a state of robust health—as everybody in the boat, excepting himself, appeared to be—would be followed by the most disastrous consequences if applied to himself; and that, finally, he begged to remind Captain Staunton that he had duly paid his passage-money, and, ill or well, should expect to be fully supplied with everything necessary for his comfort. Captain Staunton looked at the objector for some moments in dead silence, being positively stricken dumb with amazement. Then in accents of the bitterest scorn he burst out with— “You despicable wretch! Is it actually possible, sir, that you have no sense whatever of shame?—that you are so full of selfishness that there is no room in you for any other feeling? Are you forgetful of the fact, Mr Dale, that it is to your greed and clumsiness we are indebted for the greatly increased hardships of our situation? But for you, sir, the pinnace would probably have been still afloat; yet you are the one who presumes to murmur at the privations of which you are the direct cause. I wish to Heaven I had never seen your face; you positively make me feel ashamed of my sex and of my species.” “That’s all very well,” sneeringly retorted this contemptible creature, “but I didn’t come to sea to be bullied by you, so I shall withdraw from your exceedingly objectionable neighbourhood; and if ever we reach England I’ll make you smart for your barbarous treatment of me, my good fellow.” Saying which, he slunk away back in no very dignified fashion to the most comfortable spot he could find in the bows of the boat, and rolled himself snugly up once more in the shawls and blankets which the women had eagerly given up for his benefit when he was first fished out of the water. <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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