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Dick Cheveley: His Adventures and Misadventures, a novel by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 20 |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY In the beacon--The storm continues--The tide turns--I again seek for food--I meet with another accident--Brighter weather--A sail in sight--My hopes and fears--My signal--My rescue--A voice from the deep--Three old friends meet again--On board the "Falcon"--The good captain--Sydney harbour, and why I did not go ashore there--The homeward voyage--Mark and I learn navigation--My reception at Liverpool--Sad, sad news--My journey to Sandgate--I enter Mr Butterfield's office, and have had no cause to regret doing so. I awoke to find the storm still raging around me; but as I opened my eyes I was sensible that a faint light came in from the top of the cask. I was cramped with the uncomfortable position in which I had been sleeping. When I looked out over the edge of the cask, though the seas were tossing as wildly as before, I perceived that the rock below me was once more uncovered, owing, as I knew, to the tide having ebbed. At first I thought of descending; then I recollected that the waters might again rise to their former level, and I feared that I might not have strength to regain my sheltering-place. I therefore remained where I was. I shortly began to feel the pangs of hunger and thirst. I eagerly felt in my pocket for some biscuit, forgetting that I had consumed the last the night before. I found a few crumbs, and with difficulty got them down, having no water to moisten my dry mouth. Still, the wet state of my clothes prevented me from suffering so much from thirst as I should otherwise have done. The storm, I knew, would not last for ever. Should it continue much longer, however, I might succumb before I could possibly be relieved; but having been hitherto so mercifully preserved, I did not despair. Feeling weary of standing, I again crouched down at the bottom of the cask. I had reason to bless the persons who had placed it there. As I thus sat, half asleep and half awake, it seemed to me that the wind blew with less violence than it had done before. I got up to ascertain if this was the case. On looking round I felt confident that it was so. It appeared to me, also, that the seas were tumbling about with less violence than they had done on the previous day. If so, they might not again cover the rock. I was well accustomed to notice the tides on our own shore, and I remembered that, after the highest of the spring tides, they were said by the fishermen to "take off"--that is, to rise to a less elevation every subsequent day. Thus, even should the storm continue, the rock might not again be covered. This idea brought considerable relief to me. My hunger made me resolve to descend to search for clams. Perhaps I should find a fish thrown on the rock. The thought of obtaining some food made me get down at once. I opened the trap, and, grasping the rope, slid down with perfect ease. Already the rocks over which I had clambered from the boat were bare, for the tide had fallen rapidly. I knew that it would fall in proportion as it had risen. I went as close to the edge as I could venture without running the risk of being carried off. The rocks, which were washed by the fierce seas, were slippery in the extreme, and I feared that any clams clinging to them must have been washed away. Still, hunger urged me on. I made my way along the top of the coral reef. I observed several small pools ahead. There must be creatures of some sort within, which would enable me to satisfy the cravings of hunger. I had gone some little distance, when I slipped, and came down on the rock. In my weak state I felt unable again to rise for some minutes, though I was not seriously hurt. The clouds, some time before this, began to break, and suddenly the sun shone forth, his warm rays cheering me up. As I cast my eyes round, something glittered brightly just for a moment in one of the pools. Rising with renewed strength, I scrambled, faster than I had moved before, towards it, and great was my delight to see a good-sized fish floundering in the pool. It attempted to escape me, but I pounced down upon it as a sea-bird would have done, and, giving it a blow on the head, quickly despatched it. I was too hungry to wait even to partially prepare it by hanging it up in the sun, and, taking out my knife, quickly cut some slices from the thickest part of the body. I did not stop to consider whether it was wholesome, but ate it raw as it was. I looked about in the hope of finding another, and was successful; it was of the same species as the first. I could exist now without the clams; and, therefore, thinking it prudent not to run any risk in trying to obtain them, I returned to the beacon. By this time the wind had fallen to a moderate breeze, though the seas still continued rolling on with foaming crests, but far less wildly than before, and were evidently decreasing in height. The atmosphere having cleared, I was able to distinguish the distant shore, which had the appearance of a blue irregular line to the westward. Again and again I turned my eyes seaward, in hopes of seeing a passing ship, which might stand near enough to observe me. I was disappointed; not a sail came in sight, and another night approached. The waters covered some of the rocks, but only for a short time, when the tide again ran out. Still I was unwilling to sleep upon the cold rock, and, taking my second fish, having consumed the first to the bones, I climbed up again into the tub. Having coiled myself away round the bottom, I was soon fast asleep. My slumbers were peaceful and quiet. The gentle wind produced no sound round the cask; the roar of the surf on the rocks had ceased. I slept the whole night through, and not till the sun had risen out of the ocean did I wake. I at once stood up and looked round me. A light breeze from the northward sent the wavelets rippling against the rock. The sea was otherwise perfectly calm, and glowed in the rays of the bright orb of day. I looked landwards, in the expectation of seeing some vessels come out of the harbour, which, I thought, could not be far off, but none appeared. Then I gazed anxiously to the northward, and round the horizon in all directions. Presently I saw a spot appear of snowy whiteness, glittering in the rays of the sun. It rapidly increased in size. "A sail! A sail!" I shouted, though there was no one to hear me. I soon perceived that she was a large ship. First her topgallant sails, then her topsails, rose out of the water. I was so intently watching her that I forgot for a time to take my meal. As may be supposed, I turned many a look towards the ship. She was standing towards me, running before the wind along the coast. At last her courses, and then her hull, appeared, and I fancied that I could almost see the people moving on her deck. I was congratulating myself that I should have a speedy deliverance, when the thought came to me that she might be the "Emu." If I were discovered I should be worse treated than before. I had not so often seen the ship on which I had spent so many dreary months, to be certain about her appearance at a distance. I trembled lest I should be right, though she had been steering in a different direction. As the stranger approached, I became more and more convinced that she was not the "Emu." Still I felt a feeling of uncertainty on the subject. Should I make a signal, and try to attract the attention of those on board? The beacon would certainly be observed; perhaps they were looking out for it. Had I possessed a supply of water, I might have hesitated longer; but my perilous position determined me at all risks to make a signal. I watched till the ship came nearly abreast of the beacon, when, stripping off my shirt, I climbed as high as I could, until I reached the cask. I waved the shirt frantically. In my eagerness I shouted also, though I might have known that my puny voice could not be heard. For some time it appeared to me that I was waving in vain; and then, what was my dismay to see the ship's head turned away from the shore. I was deserted. Presently the sheets were let fly, the main-topsail was backed against the mast. She hove-to. I almost fell from my post with joy as I saw a boat lowered, which came rapidly pulling towards the rock. Putting on my shirt--it was now perfectly dry--I descended from my perch to the rock, and there stood eagerly watching the boat. Again a thought occurred to me, that she might, after all, be the "Emu," and in another few minutes I might be in the clutches of old Growles and the boatswain, and my other persecutors. But as I strained my eyes to discern their countenances. I became aware that none of the "Emu's" crew were there. As far as I could make out, they were all perfect strangers. The boat steered for the lee-side of the rock. I hurried down to meet them. "Why, my lad, who are you, and how came you here?" exclaimed one of the strangers. "Has your ship gone to the bottom?" "That's more than I can say," I answered; "I came in a boat. The boat floated away, and I have been left here." "What ship do you belong to?" asked the stranger. "The 'Emu,'" I answered, thinking it was as well to acknowledge this much. "The 'Emu!'" he exclaimed. "Why, who are you? Let me let me look at you. Don't you know me, Dick?" and he grasped my hand. I looked at him hard. "Why, if I didn't think you were at the bottom of the sea, I should have declared that you were Tom Trivett." "And so I am," he said, "though I'm not at the bottom of the sea, and right glad I am to find you, Dick, out of that dreadful ship. Come along, we mustn't stand talking here; we were sent to bring you off, and, judging by your looks, the sooner you're on board the better." "Yes, indeed," I answered, "for I find it a hard matter to speak from the dryness in my throat; I haven't tasted water for a couple of days, and if you had not come I don't suppose I should have held out much longer, with the hot sun shining down on my head." "Well, I am glad," cried Tom, as he, with the aid of another hand, who was the third mate of the ship, helped me into the boat. She immediately shoved off, and pulled towards the ship. "Who would have thought of finding you, Dick, all alone by yourself out on yonder rock?" said Tom, who was pulling stroke oar. "However, wonders never end. There's another old shipmate of yours on board, whom you'll be glad to see, I have a notion; and not a little surprised either, if you thought that he was left to perish on the Falkland Islands." "What! Do you mean Mark Riddle?" I asked. "Yes, Mark himself," he said. "He didn't die, or he wouldn't be on board the 'Falcon.' We found him about ten days after. He had been pretty well worn out, but still with life enough in him to crawl down to the beach when we put in for water." "I am glad, I am glad!" I said, though I could say little more, and was unable to ask Tom how he had escaped. The mate put questions to me which I was unable to answer; indeed I was almost fainting before I was lifted up the side of the "Falcon." One of the first persons I set eyes on was Mark Riddle. He was much grown and bronzed. Had I not been aware that he was on board, I should not at first have known him; nor did he guess who I was till Tom told him, when he sprang to my side, and warmly grasped my hand. He forbore asking questions, as he saw that I was not in a state to reply. The first thing Tom did was to bring me a mug of water, which I eagerly drank. After that the captain ordered that I should be carried to a spare berth in the cabin. "We must have him there, that he may be properly looked after. He'll be better off than in the forepeak," he said. From this I guessed that he was a kind-hearted man, very different to Captain Longfleet. In a short time some broth and a fresh roll baked on board were brought to me, and I was not so far gone that I was prevented from thankfully swallowing the food. It revived me greatly, and when Captain Mason looked in on me shortly afterwards, I was able to answer all the questions he put to me. I confessed who I was, and how I had come to sea. When he heard that I was the son of a clergyman, and related to Mr Butterfield, he was even kinder than before; though he did not, I suspect, quite believe my account. "Truth should be adhered to, my lad, under all circumstances," he observed. "Are you quite sure that you did not run away?" "I thought of doing so, sir; but I was carried off exactly as I have told you, and I was very sorry for it afterwards." "You have been severely punished for it, and I am afraid have caused great anxiety and grief to your friends. You might have lost your life, though you have been preserved in God's good providence, and when you get home I hope you will make amends for your fault. It is all you can do," he observed. The state of the ship contrasted greatly with that of the "Emu." After a sound sleep, I was able the next day to get about, though I still remained somewhat sick and weak. Tom told me that the "Falcon" was the happiest ship he had ever been aboard. The crew were generally orderly and well behaved. Mark corroborated what Tom said. As soon as I was strong enough, I begged that I might be allowed to do duty on board, so that I might not pass my time idly. To this Captain Mason willingly agreed. I was separated more than I liked from Mark, but he told me that he was not jealous. "But I say, Dick," he said, "if you could teach me, when it's my watch below, some of the navigation and other things you're learning, I should be very much obliged." I willingly promised to do this; and, as he came down to the spar-deck, we at once set to work, and every day I imparted to him the knowledge I had obtained. One day the first mate, who was a very kind man, found us thus engaged. He said nothing at the time, but afterwards asked me if Riddle was very anxious to learn navigation. I told him that he was. He reported this to the captain, who told Mark that he could come into the cabin and study with the rest of us. Our studies were interrupted when the ship entered Sydney harbour. We lay there for some days, discharging our cargo, and taking on board bales of wool, which was now being produced in considerable quantities in that magnificent country, though the shipments of a whole year were not equal to what was afterwards exported in a month. As I knew that the "Emu" was bound for Sydney, I anxiously inquired whether she was there. She had not come in; but, as I thought she might possibly make her appearance, I was afraid to go on shore, lest I should encounter Captain Longfleet or the mates or the men. I felt sure, should they see me, that I should be captured, carried on board, and punished tremendously for stealing the boat. On returning on board, however, one day, Tom Trivett told me that he had heard a report that the "Emu" had been lost in a gale which had occurred some time before, as part of her stern had been picked up with her name upon it. This account having been confirmed, left no doubt on my mind as to her having been wrecked, and, as none of those on board ever appeared, that all had perished. I had thus still greater reason than ever to be thankful that I had made my escape from her when I did. But Captain Mason blamed me for the way in which I had done so. "You've done many things that were wrong, my lad," he said, "there's no doubt about that; but all I can urge you is to be heartily sorry for them." I confess I found it very difficult to be sorry that I had run away with the boat, since I had saved my life by so doing. Then I might afterwards have lost it on the rock; and the matter has been a very puzzling one to me ever since. We sailed with a fair wind, which carried us down the coast of Australia. The wind then shifted to the eastward, and we passed through Bass's Straits, between the mighty continent and Van Diemen's Land, as it was at that time called, the captain intending to go home by the Cape of Good Hope instead of across the Pacific and round Cape Horn, as ships of the present day generally do. I have few incidents to describe during our homeward voyage. I was far happier than I had been on board the "Emu." Somehow or other I had no longer that affection for a sea life which I fancied I possessed. I dreaded, however, the reception I should meet with, on my return home, from Aunt Deb and Mr Butterfield, and from my father and brothers and sisters. The only person who I knew would receive me affectionately was my mother. I was very certain of it. I was half inclined, from fear of the upbraiding that I should get from the rest of my family, to beg Captain Mason to let me remain on board, and to make another voyage with him, expecting that I should regain my love for the ocean. I at last mentioned the subject. "I would willingly do so, my lad, if your father and friends think it best you should become a sailor, but I cannot consent to act contrary to their wishes. You must at once, on landing, present yourself to Mr Butterfield; and as I am acquainted with him, I will accompany you and state how I have had the satisfaction of rescuing you from the perilous position in which you were placed." I thanked the captain very much for his offer, as I felt that I should have much more confidence in his presence than if I had gone alone. Still, as we ran up the Irish Channel and sighted the Welsh coast, I felt very nervous, and could scarcely attend to my duties. At length we entered the Mersey and dropped anchor off Liverpool. As soon as the ship had been taken into dock, and the captain was at liberty, he sent for me, and we walked together to Mr Butterfield's office, where we were at once shown into his private room. The old gentleman did not recognise me, I was so grown and altered. When Captain Mason said who I was, he started, and, eyeing me keenly, at last took my hand. "I'm thankful to see you again, my boy," he said; "but you have caused your aunt and me much anxiety, and trouble and sorrow to others of your family; but I won't say just now what has happened. Your aunt will tell you that, by-and-by. I am unwilling to grieve your heart on first landing on your native shore." I did not then understand what he meant; but as his manner was kind, I congratulated myself on escaping the upbraiding I expected from him, at all events. Captain Mason having much business to get through, rose to take his leave, when Mr Butterfield expressed his desire to repay him for the trouble and expense he had been put to on my account. "Pray don't speak of it, my kind sir," answered the worthy captain; "I am amply repaid by the satisfaction I feel at restoring the lad to his friends;" and shaking me warmly by the hand, he left the office. As it was late in the day, Mr Butterfield having signed a few letters, said he was ready to go home, and desired me to accompany him. As we walked along together, he questioned me about my adventures, seeming rather incredulous when I assured him that I had not intentionally run away to sea. "Well, well, Dick, we'll let by-gones be by-gones. I shall be glad to see you act rightly in future." I inquired if Aunt Deb was still with him. "She returned to your father soon after you disappeared, and has only lately come back to pay me another visit," he answered. I confess I wished she had stayed at home. However, I had to face her, though I felt very nervous about the interview. "I don't think she will recognise you, and I won't tell her who you are," he said, as I entered the house. We went into the drawing-room, where we found Aunt Deb seated in a high-backed chair. "Here's a young gentleman come from the sea. He's come to dine with us," said Mr Butterfield. Aunt Deb rose from her seat, gave me a stiff bow, and sank down again on her seat. "I have no affection for the sea, or generally for those whose profession it is to sail upon it," she said, looking hard at me. "There are exceptions to every rule, and I hope that this young gentleman will show that he doesn't possess the objectionable manners and customs of sailors." "I trust you will not be mistaken in the favourable opinion you form of me, Madam," I said, as stiffly as I could. "But I venture to think that you are prejudiced against seafaring men. Let me assure you, however, that there are many estimable persons among them, though there are some as bad as any to be found on shore. You once had a nephew who went away to sea. I hope that you don't class him among the bad ones." "I class him among the very worst," she exclaimed. "He ran off without leave, without wishing me, his kind aunt, farewell, or letting us know where he had gone, or what had become of him. He made us all very miserable, and broke his poor mother's heart." "My mother dead!" I exclaimed. "Oh, don't say that, don't say that! And I killed her." "Who are you?" cried Aunt Deb, starting up and looking me in the face. "Yes; I do believe that you are that graceless young monkey, Dick!" "I am indeed your nephew, Dick. I am indeed heartily sorry for all I have done, and shall never forgive myself if my conduct was the cause of my mother's death. Did I not mistake what you said? Oh, Aunt Deb, do tell me is she really dead?" and I grasped her hands and burst into tears. She was moved as I spoke more than I could have expected; and instead of further upbraiding me, tried to soothe the anguish I felt. I was indeed severely punished for my thoughtless conduct, to say the best of it. Mr Butterfield spoke to me more kindly than I expected or deserved, and when he again offered me a seat in his counting-house, and assured me that he would endeavour to further my interests and raise me according to my deserts, I thankfully accepted his proposal. Before, however, commencing my career as a merchant, he allowed me to go home and see my father, who, I need not say, received me according to the dictates of his affectionate heart, without uttering a word of blame. My brothers and sisters were never tired of hearing of my adventures while I remained with them. On my mother's grave I promised to do my duty to the best of my power in the new situation of life I was about to occupy. After my arrival at home I paid a visit to old Roger Riddle, and had the satisfaction of telling him that Mark had become a steady fellow, and as Captain Mason had promised to take him the next voyage in the "Falcon," and to continue his instructions in navigation, he had every prospect of becoming an officer. Tom Trivett entered the navy, and having lost a leg, became an out-pensioner of Greenwich Hospital. He used frequently to come and see me in after years, and nothing pleased him so much as to talk over the adventures of our early days, and to spin long yarns to my children about those he subsequently went through. After a week's stay at Sandgate, I returned to Liverpool, where I at once set to work in Mr Butterfield's office, and have every reason to be thankful that I was enabled to take my place on one of the high stools which I had formerly looked upon with such intense disgust. By diligence and perseverance, and strict attention to my duties, I gained my principal's good opinion, and ultimately, on his death, I became the head of the firm.
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