Chapter 1

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_ CHAPTER ONE. ON BOARD THE "OSPREY"--OFF THE COAST OF AFRICA``

A dense mist hung over the ocean; the sky above our heads was of a grey tint; the water below our feet of the colour of lead. Not a ripple disturbed its mirror-like surface, except when now and then a covey of flying fish leaped forth to escape from their pursuers, or it was clove by the fin of a marauding shark. We knew that we were not far off the coast of Africa, some few degrees to the south of the Equator; but how near we were we could not tell, for the calm had continued for several days, and a strong current, setting to the eastward, had been rapidly drifting us toward the shore.

Notwithstanding that the sun was obscured, his rays found means of heating the atmosphere, so that we felt much as if we were surrounded by a hot damp blanket.

I had already made a trip to the West Indies, and two to this terrible coast; and as I had escaped without an attack of yellow fever, or cholera, when the Liverpool owners of the brig _Osprey_--commanded by Captain Page, an old African trader--offered me a berth as supercargo, I willingly accepted it. We were bound out to the Cape of Good Hope, but had arranged to touch at two or three places on the coast, to trade and land passengers. Among other places we were to call at Saint Paul de Loando, to land a Portuguese gentleman, Senhor Silva, and his black servant Ramaon. Our object in trading was to obtain palm-oil, bees'-wax, gold dust, and ivory, in exchange for Manchester and Birmingham goods; and for this purpose we had already visited several places on the coast, picking up such quantities as could be obtained at each of them. We had not, however, escaped without the usual penalty African traders have to pay--two of our men having died of fever, and two others, besides the captain, being sick of it. The first mate, Giles Gritton, and another man, had been washed overboard in a heavy gale we encountered on the other side of the Equator, and we were now, therefore, somewhat short-handed. The first mate was a great loss, for he was an excellent seaman and a first-rate fellow, which is more than could be said of the second mate, Simon Kydd. How he came to be appointed mate seemed unaccountable; unless, as he was related to the owners, interest might have obtained for him what his own merits certainly would not. Taking him at his own value, he had few superiors, if any equals.

I felt much for Captain Page. He took the loss of his first mate greatly to heart, and thus the incapacity of the second contributed considerably to increase his malady. Day after day he grew worse, and I began to fear much that his illness would end fatally. He was as good and kind a man as ever lived, and an excellent sailor.

I had not been knocking about the ocean altogether with my eyes shut, and had managed to pick up a fair amount of nautical knowledge. I did not intrude it unnecessarily; I had a notion that I was regarded with a somewhat jealous eye by those who considered me a mere landsman. I certainly understood more about navigation than Mr Kydd, but that is not saying much. There were few things which I could not do, from handing, reefing, and steering, to turning in a dead-eye, and setting up the rigging; and few situations in which the fickle winds and waves were likely to place a ship with which I was not prepared to contend. Blow high or blow low, I felt myself at home on the ocean. My father had objected to my becoming a sailor, and had placed me in his counting-house. The sedentary life of a clerk was, however, not to my taste, and I was very glad to abdicate my seat on the high stool on every decent pretext. Still I had done my duty when there, and my conscience was at rest on that score. Misfortunes overtook my father's house; speculations were entered into which proved unsuccessful; and his long-established and highly-esteemed firm got into inextricable difficulties. In vain he and his partners struggled to maintain their credit. The final crash came, and although my mother's marriage settlement saved the family from penury, he had no capital with which to recommence business. I was too young to take his place. One of his partners died broken-hearted, and he had not the energy left to undertake the onerous duties he would have been called upon to perform. He and my mother and sisters retired to a modest cottage in Cheshire; while his boys, of whom I was the third, had to seek their fortunes in the world. He had done his duty by us. He had given us a good education, and ever striven to instil into our minds the principles of true religion and honour. I shall never forget his parting advice when I started on my first expedition. "Ever trust in God, Andrew," he said. "Recollect that you were 'bought with a price,' and 'are not your own.' You have no business to follow your own fancies, or to gratify any of the propensities fallen nature possesses, even though we do possess them, notwithstanding what the devil and the world may say to the contrary. God has given you a body, but ever remember that he has given you a mind to regulate that body. To the animals he has given bodies, and indued them with instincts which we may say are unerring; whereas man's mind, in consequence of sin, is prone to err; but then again, in his mercy, he has enabled man to seek for strength from above to counteract the effects of sin, and so to regulate his mind that it may properly guide the body. I have no faith in high principles, unless those high principles are kept in order by a higher influence. Therefore, Andrew, read your Bible daily for guidance; go daily to the throne of grace for enlightenment and direction, that you may keep your high principles bright and ever fit for action. Do not trust your feelings; they may mislead you. Do not trust the world or your companions; they may prove faithless monitors or guides. Do not trust, as people say, 'manfully to yourself.' Self often proves treacherous." More to the same effect my father said. I have given briefly his observations. I did my best to carry out his counsel; and through it gained the calmness and courage with which I encountered difficulties and dangers which would otherwise have appalled and overwhelmed me. I was never addicted to talking to my companions of myself, or my principles and feelings; and I sometimes blame myself for not endeavouring more perseveringly to inculcate on others those principles which I knew to be so true and valuable. I now mention the subject, because I can say on paper what my lips have often refused to utter. But I have said enough about myself.

We had several other passengers on board, who, notwithstanding the risks which they knew must be encountered on the African coast, had, for the sake of seeing the country, come on board with the intention of proceeding on to Cape Town, to which, as I said, we were ultimately bound. I will mention first Captain Stanley Hyslop, a near relation of mine, a nephew of my mother's. He was a military officer, and having sold out of the service, was going to settle in the Cape Colony, where his parents already were. He was accompanied by two younger brothers. David was one of the nicest fellows I ever met. He had been educated as a surgeon, and purposed practising in the country. The youngest, Leonard, or Leo, as we always called him, was an amusing little chap, always thinking funny things and saying them, and yet there was a simplicity about him which was very attractive. He had been sent to school in England, but being considered somewhat delicate--not, certainly, that he looked so--it was recommended that he should return to breathe his native air at the Cape. David was also, I should say, an enthusiastic naturalist, and the hope of increasing his knowledge at the places we might visit, had, besides his regard for me, induced him to take his passage on board the _Osprey_, just as his brother expected to get a few days sporting while the brig remained at anchor. I had seen but little of Stanley, but for David I had always felt a warm regard.

There were, however, two other members of the family, in one of whom, at all events, I must own I felt still more interested, although I knew that it would not do for me in my present situation to exhibit my feelings. My cousin, Kate Hyslop, was a very pretty, engaging girl, who had a short time before left school. She was also full of spirit, while she was right-minded and sweet-tempered. Her younger sister, Isabella, or Bella as she was called, was quite a little girl. She also had been at school; but her parents naturally could not bear to have her left behind, and so Kate had undertaken to complete her education; and from the time we sailed she was most assiduous in her attempts to do so. Sometimes I fancied she gave her almost too much teaching. When her brother, however, made a remark to that effect, she answered that it was important not to lose time, as opportunities might be wanting by-and-by; and when once they arrived in the colony, she knew that there would be so many interruptions and hindrances, and she might have so many other duties to perform, that Bella might not get the due amount of knowledge she wished her to possess. Blow high or blow low, Kate always made Bella learn her lessons. Sometimes holding on by the leg of a table in the cabin during a gale, there the two sisters would be found with their books. Both were capital sailors, as people say--that is, they were never ill at sea; so that they were not inconvenienced as most other people would have been by the tossing and tumbling of the stout brig.

They were attended by an old negro, Peter Timbo by name, who was the most watchful of guardians. He was the captain's servant, and had always accompanied him in his shooting expeditions when he was before staying at the Cape. Timbo, also, from what I heard him say, knew more about his native country than any one on board. He was born at some distance from the sea, not far from the Equator. When he was just growing into manhood, his village had been attacked by another tribe, and he, with several companions in misfortune, had been carried off to the coast. He was there shipped on board a Portuguese slaver, which, venturing to the north of the line, was chased and captured by a British man-of-war. Timbo, having a fancy for a sea life, and being an active, intelligent fellow, had been allowed to enter on board her. After serving for some years, he had been discharged at the Cape; where, after following several pursuits, he had become a servant to my uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Hyslop. Peter was loquacious and ever merry, and it was pleasant to hear him give way to one of his hearty laughs. He had thick lips, a huge flattish nose, and somewhat high head, covered with thick curling wool, now beginning to show signs of turning grey. Although he understood English perfectly, he still spoke it in a somewhat negro fashion, which often gave piquancy to his expressions; but from the way his master treated him, and from the affectionate care he seemed to take of the younger members of the family, it was evident that he must be a worthy man, notwithstanding his want of personal attractions.

"Ah, Massa Andrew, we nebber know as kind God does what is good for us," he remarked to me one day. "I bery sorryful when slaver people carry me off from my home in Pongo country. I t'ink I go to die, dat dere was no God to look after poor black fellow. I know only of Fetish, and I afraid of Fetish. Den I get among white men, and I see and hear much dat is bad, and still I t'ink dere is no God. Den years pass by, and I hear of de merciful Saviour, who die for me; and I say, 'Dat is just what I want,' and I learn to be Christian. But I will tell you anoder day more about myself; I now go to get ready de cabin dinner."

I told Timbo that I should keep him to his promise, as I was much interested in the short account he had given of himself.

We had four other passengers--Mr John and Mr Charles Rowley, and Miss Julia Rowley their sister, who seemed very nice people, but they kept themselves rather aloof from me, as well as from the mate, though they were friendly enough with the passengers, whom they considered their equals. The last person I need name was a young Irishman, Mr Terence O'Brien, who was of no profession that I could find out, but proposed settling as a colonist at the Cape. I have thus at once run off a brief description of my companions, of the last mentioned of whom, at that time, I knew comparatively little. Having said thus much of them, I will continue the thread of my narrative.

"How is the weather, Andrew?" said Captain Page as I went into his cabin. We had the skylight off, to let in as much air as possible, but yet it felt hot and stifling. He was very pale. His lips were of a bluish tinge, and his eyes were sunken and dim. On a locker close by him sat a young boy with a book before him, from which he was in vain endeavouring to read. I saw that Natty had been crying, for tears bedewed the page. He was the captain's only son. His mother was dead, and rather than leave him on shore to the care of strangers, his father had brought him on this African voyage. "It was a choice of two evils," he said to me one day. "The boy's constitution is good, and we must not let him be exposed to the night air or hot suns up the rivers, and he will probably stand the climate better than most of us." Such indeed had been the case, and Natty had been well, and had until now been full of life and spirits--the favourite of all on board. He and my young cousin Leonard soon struck up a friendship, and were of course always together. For once Natty had left his friend to remain by the side of his father. The captain had been speaking to him, for his voice ceased as I appeared.

I replied to the captain's question, "No signs of a change, Captain Page. We hove the lead, but found no bottom. We must still be some distance off the coast."

"I trust so," was the answer. "Heave the lead every quarter of an hour, and let me know when we are in soundings. Take another cast at once, and then come back."

I told the mate. "Why, I did so not twenty minutes ago," he answered. "What does the old man want us to do it again for?"

"The captain knows this coast well, Mr Kydd," I answered. "We may be thankful to get an anchor to hold as soon as we get into shallow water."

Seeing the mate did not seem disposed to obey, I took the lead, and calling to two of the hands, prepared to heave it.

"No, no," observed Kydd, "that is my work;" and taking the lead from me, hove it carelessly. "No bottom," he answered; "I should think not, indeed, out here."

It appeared to me that as the line ran out the whole length, he could not be mistaken. Returning to the cabin, I made my report to the captain. "Andrew," he said, "sit down; I want to have a few words with you. I am going to that haven whence I shall never come back. I feel that I shall not hold on much longer to life. I have not been a successful man, and leave my boy but ill-provided for. As to my friends, there are none that I can think of who are able to help him; and the few acquaintances I have who could do so, I cannot trust. The thought of what will become of my orphan boy weighs heavily on me. Andrew, you are young and healthy, and may Heaven preserve your life for many years! I have no great claim on you, but Andrew, as you hope Heaven will watch over you, do you keep an eye on my boy. Do for him the best you can. I have seen enough of you to know that you will act wisely and kindly. I do not desire to have him pampered and spoiled by riches, if I could give them, but I cannot bear the thought of his being left friendless and in poverty to fight his way through this often hard and cruel world. You will see to this, Andrew? I am sure you will."

"I will, Captain Page; I promise you," I answered, and I took his cold clammy hand.

Poor Natty was all this time sobbing violently. The truth that he was going to lose his father burst upon him, and that father had ever been kind and indulgent.

"That is well, that is well," murmured Captain Page. "I trust to you to be his human protector, and to One"--and he turned his eyes upward--"who will ever be a Friend of the fatherless."

The captain said a good deal more, and made various arrangements about Natty. Desiring me to get some papers from his desk, he showed me how I could obtain the little property he was likely to leave.

"I wish I could see the brig safely brought to an anchor," he observed after a long silence. "It is a nasty coast at best. With a breeze we could work off it, but while this calm lasts we cannot help ourselves from being carried wherever the current takes us, till we get into water shoal enough for anchoring. I shall be happier when once we can bring up, for if we do not, we may, when we little expect it, be driven on shore; and let me tell you, Andrew, what with the surf and the sharks, few of us are likely to escape with our lives. I know this coast well, and a sandy beach, exposed to the whole sweep of the Atlantic, is even more dangerous than a rocky shore. It must be time again to heave the lead. Go on deck, Andrew, and see how things are."

I found the passengers seated under an awning, which the mate had rigged at their request. He himself was walking up and down the deck, coming the officer in fine style, and endeavouring to make himself agreeable to the young ladies. He evidently anticipated the moment when he should have the command; indeed, he seemed to fancy himself the master already. When I told him that the captain desired me again to heave the lead, he appeared not to hear me, but continued talking to Miss Rowley with the insinuating air he knew so well how to assume. Miss Hyslop took but little notice of him when he addressed her, and turned away, giving her attention to Bella's lessons, or going on with any work she might have in hand, for she never was a moment idle. She was admirably fitted for colonial life; indeed, I may say, for any position in which she might be placed. If she had become a duchess, she would not have been an idle one.--I again addressed Mr Kydd. I told him that the captain wished to have the lead hove.

"The old man is always issuing his orders through you, Mr Crawford," he answered at length, in a scornful tone. "I know, I should think, what ought to be done, and I will do it. And I beg you will not interrupt me when I am talking to ladies." He added the last sentence in a whisper, sufficiently loud, however, for Miss Rowley to hear him.

"As the captain has been too ill to take an observation for some time, I suppose that you know our correct longitude, Mr Kydd. He, at all events, considers that we are close in with the African coast; and, as you are aware, it would be a terrible thing to have the brig cast on one of the sandbanks which lie off it," I remarked.

"No fear of that," he answered scornfully. "We shall have a breeze soon, probably, and then we will stand to the westward, and run down to the latitude of Loando. We are not many degrees from that, at all events."

"The captain is a good seaman, and he has his reasons for ordering the lead to be hove," I answered. "If the calm continues, he wishes us to anchor as soon as the water shoals sufficiently."

"Shoals sufficiently!" repeated the mate, in the same scornful tone; "we have no line on board to reach the bottom, I'll warrant." The mate unintentionally spoke loud enough for the gentlemen to hear him.

"Come, Mr Kydd, I suppose you intend to obey the captain's orders," said Captain Hyslop, coming up to where we were standing. "It seems to me that he has good reason for giving them."

"I believe, sir, that I am chief officer of the _Osprey_, and that I know my duty," said the mate. "It is not customary for passengers to interfere with the navigation of the ship."

"Certainly not, sir," answered Stanley; "but I trust all on board will obey the captain's orders while he is able to give them."

"That will not be for long," muttered the mate in an undertone. "I intend to do what is necessary, and I do not see that there is any use to keep heaving the lead out here almost in mid-ocean."

"But are we in mid-ocean, Mr Kydd? The captain considers that we are close in with the coast," remarked Stanley.

"Faith, there is going to be a row," I heard Terence O'Brien exclaim to young Mr Rowley. "See! I would like to be after giving them a poke. It would be rare fun."

"It would not be rare fun if the captain is right," was the answer.

"Am I to report to Captain Page that you decline heaving the lead, Mr Kydd?" I said at length, seeing that he made no movement to obey the order.

"Do as you like, Mr Crawford. I am not going to be dictated to by any man on board," replied the mate in an obstinate tone.

"The captain is _very_ ill, as you know, and I fear your conduct will greatly vex him and tend to aggravate his disease," I said, still unwilling to return below. "I hope you will let me heave the lead if you will not do it yourself."

"Are you hired to navigate this ship, or am I?" he said in an angry tone, turning round to me. "I am chief officer, and unless the captain comes on deck to give his commands, I intend to do as I think fit. If you touch the lead, I shall consider it an act of mutiny, and order the crew to put you in irons."

I did not wish to bring things to extremities, and yet I could not bring myself to tell the captain how the mate was behaving. I waited, but waited in vain, to see whether he would change his mind. He still stood with his hands in his pockets, casting defiant looks around. I was in hopes that Stanley and the other gentlemen would interfere; but they remained silent, though somewhat astonished at the mate's behaviour. At last, finding there was no help for it, I went back to the cabin.

"I am sorry to say, Captain Page, that Mr Kydd seems to consider that there is no necessity for heaving the lead, and refuses to do so at present," I said on entering. "I will do anything you wish, and again carry your orders if you desire me."

"I must go on deck myself then," said the captain, attempting to rise. "Help me on with my clothes, Andrew. I feel very weak, but if he forces me to it, I must go." I assisted the captain to dress, with the help of Natty. "Here, give me your arm, Andrew; it is a stronger one than poor Natty's. I must do it, though it kills me."

I felt the poor captain tremble all over as I helped him along to the companion-ladder. He climbed up with the greatest difficulty; indeed, without my assistance he could not have got along. He at length reached the deck. He could scarcely stand, and was obliged to hold on by the companion-hatch. His face was pale as death. His white hair hung down on each side of his forehead, over which the skin seemed stretched like thin parchment. His lips had lost all colour, and his blue eyes, as he gazed around, had an unnatural brightness.

"Mr Kydd," he said, "you have compelled me at a severe cost to come up on deck. I order you to heave the lead. And, men," he cried out, "assist the mate to carry out my orders."

Kydd was now obliged to obey. Going to the chains, he hove the lead. I looked over the side to watch him, and saw by the way the line slackened that bottom was found. Just at that moment I heard some one cry out, "See! see! What is the matter with the captain?" I ran aft. He had fallen to the deck. "Oh, father, father! speak to me!" cried Natty, who was by his side. I lifted up the old man's head. David Hyslop had hastened to him, and was kneeling on the deck holding his hand. "He has swooned," he said. "He should not have left his bed."

"Can you do anything for him?"

"We will carry him below, but I fear the worst," he whispered.

Just then the sails of the brig gave a loud, thundering flap, and yet there was no wind; but I felt that a huge wave coming along the ocean had passed under her. The passengers looked at each other with an expression of dismay in their countenances, not knowing what was next going to happen; while David and I, with the assistance of Stanley and Mr Rowley, began to carry the captain down below. Not without difficulty, as he was somewhat heavy, we placed him on his bed. David again felt his pulse.

"It is all over, I fear," he said in a low voice, so that Natty could not hear. "Bring a glass! I cannot feel his heart beating." His brother brought a small glass from their sisters' cabin, and David held it over Captain Page's mouth, and again felt his heart. "He is gone," he said. "No human skill can restore him."

Natty, who had been standing outside, now sprang into the cabin. "Oh, tell me!" he said, looking imploringly up at David, "tell me!--is my father likely to get better? Why will he not speak to me?"

David did not reply, but made a sign to me to lead him out of the cabin. I saw my cousin close the old man's eyes as I took Natty by the hand and led him to the main cabin. I thought I would tell him at once what had happened; but a choking sensation came into my throat, and I could not utter a word.

"Is father not getting better," he asked, after a time. "Why did he not speak to me just now?"

"I am afraid he is not getting better," I replied; "but come on deck." The idea struck me that I would get one of the young ladies to speak to him, as they would tell him of his loss with more gentleness than any one else. When we reached the deck he saw Leo, who ran up to him, and took him aft to show him a large shark he had been watching swimming about close astern. I seized the opportunity of speaking to Miss Rowley, and told her what had happened.

"Oh, no, no; I am sure I cannot speak to the child. I should not know what to say," she answered. "Just tell him yourself. I do not suppose boys are likely to be much affected by such an occurrence."

I could not help giving her a look expressive of the surprise and pain I felt. Could that elegant young lady be so heartless and indifferent to the sorrow of others? My cousin Kate was sitting a little further off, out of hearing of her brother and Natty.

"The captain is dead," I said, in a low voice; "but his poor boy does not know it."

"Is the kind old man really gone?" she exclaimed, looking up into my face, and a tear starting into her eye. "Oh, how sad for poor Natty! But he must be told; and yet he will feel it dreadfully."

"Will you tell him then, Kate?" I asked. "It is necessary to do so at once, and yet it is hard to wound his feelings."

"Yes," she said; "I will try, even though it would greatly pain me. Yes yes!" she continued. "Come here, Natty, and sit down by me.--You need not be afraid, Andrew, I will speak gently to him."

I was sure she would. Her sweet countenance showed me how much she felt for the boy. I did not hear what she said, but she took his hand, and looked kindly into his face. He saw the tears in her eyes as she went on talking, and then, at length, he seemed to comprehend the truth, and began to sob violently. I saw her take both his hands, and cast on him a look of sympathy, of more avail just then than any words she could have uttered. Directly after he started up, as if to run to the cabin where his dead father lay; but she held him back by gentle force; and then he sat quiet, and sobbed and sobbed as if his young heart would break; and she again began to speak so soothingly to him, looking so kindly into his face, her tears falling fast, that I knew he was gaining the comfort he needed.

The mate meantime, hearing what had happened, went into the cabin, as if to satisfy himself. When he returned on deck, I saw that he could scarcely conceal his satisfaction as he looked about with an air of authority.

"Men," he said--for the crew had come up, a rumour having reached them of what had occurred--"I am now captain of this brig, and you will have to obey my orders. You understand me. I am not going to have any of the nonsense we had before; what I say I'll have done, and if there's any slackness, look out for squalls."

Captain Page, I should have said, had been accustomed to have prayers every morning and service on Sunday--a practice not common, I am sorry to say, in those days aboard merchantmen. The good old customs of our forefathers had long been given up, when, rough as seamen might have been, there were far more God-fearing men among them than at present; so I have read. I am afraid Kydd alluded to this practice of the captain's, as well as to the kind and gentle way in which he ruled his crew. The men touched their hats in recognition of his authority, but I saw from the looks they cast at him, that they held him in very different estimation to their late master. A stricter captain, perhaps, might have kept them in better order. Many of them were somewhat rough hands; but still his kindness had won their hearts, and, rough as they were, they now showed unmistakable signs of sorrow for his death.

When the mate ceased speaking, and turned aft with a conceited air, I saw them talking together, and casting no very complimentary looks towards him. The old boatswain, indeed, Jeremiah Barker, took but little pains to conceal his indignation. No sooner was the mate's back turned than he lifted up his fist with a threatening gesture, which made me fear greatly for the future discipline of the ship. As to expostulating with a fellow like Kydd, I knew it would be utterly useless; and I was afraid that even if Stanley or the other gentlemen spoke to him, he would be as little likely to attend to them as to me.

I must confess that the captain's death and this conduct of Kydd made me forget altogether the almost dying injunctions of the former to anchor as soon as we got into shallow water. The latter also seemed entirely to have forgotten that we were already in soundings.

"Well, sir," he said, coming up to Stanley, "I suppose we must see about getting the old man buried. I am no hand at preaching or praying, and so I will ask you to read the funeral service. We will do all things ship-shape and right."

"Why, sir," exclaimed Stanley, in a tone of indignation, "the poor man's breath is scarcely out of his body! You would not throw him overboard at once surely!"

"We have to manage that sort of thing pretty sharply out in these latitudes," answered Kydd. "I shall be wanting his cabin, too; and as it may be two or three days before we reach Loando, we cannot have him buried on shore. We are not far off that place, and I hope we shall be able to get an observation in a short time, and see exactly where we are."

"You are now master of the vessel, and I shall not interfere with your authority," said Stanley; "but I think it would be more decent to wait as long as we can for the sake of the poor little boy there. When his feelings are more calm he would like to see his dead father."

"Oh, certainly, sir, as you please, as you please," said the mate, turning away. "I will give you another hour to indulge your fancy, but I have no maudlin feelings of that sort."

If the look of unutterable disgust which passed over my cousin's countenance could have made Kydd ashamed of himself, he would have hid his face; but he continued pacing the deck and turning his head about as if considering which order he should next issue. I saw Kate at length take Natty down into the captain's cabin, and I thought it best to allow her and the boy to be alone there together at that sad moment. The boatswain then came aft and said that he and the crew wished to see their late captain.

"What is that for?" asked Kydd, and I thought he was going to refuse the request.

"He was our friend, and we would like to have a last look at his kind face," answered the boatswain.

"Well, if the passengers do not mind your going into the cabin, I do not," said the mate, turning aside.

Perhaps he did not quite like the expression of old Barker's countenance. I led the way into the cabin, and the crew came, one by one, following the boatswain. "Well, you was an honest, kind man as ever lived, and that's more than can be said of him who has stepped into your shoes," said old Barker, apostrophising the captain. "He is less of a sailor than your little finger was; and as to sense, he has not as much as was in your thumb-nail." The remarks of the other men, as they passed by, were still less complimentary to the new master; and had he heard them, he might well have doubted his power of keeping his crew in order. I felt, indeed, very anxious, for though I had thought very little of Kydd, I was not aware how he was despised and detested by the men.

I more than ever wished that a breeze would spring up, that they might have something to do, and that we might get away from this dangerous part of the coast. The calm, however, still continued, and at length the time came for lowering our late captain into his ocean grave. The sailmaker came aft with the boatswain to superintend the operation of enclosing him in a hammock, into which they fastened a pig of iron ballast.

"Them sharks shan't have him, nohow," observed the sailmaker; "for though the bottom may be a long way off, he will reach it pretty quickly, and lie quiet there till the day when we all come up from the land or sea--it will not then matter where we have lain in the meantime--to answer for ourselves. I only wish I was as sure to give as good an account of myself as he is."

"Be quick there!" cried the mate from the deck. "There is a breeze coming up, I have a notion, and we shall have to trim sails. I wish to get this business over first."

Kate had been keeping Natty by her side while this was going forward. Two of the other men now came below and assisted to carry the captain's body on deck, where my cousin Stanley had got his prayer-book, and stood ready. The old boatswain had thrown a flag over the body, now placed on a plank, one end of which projected out of a port. While the funeral service of the Church of England was read, not a sound was heard except the unrepressed sobs which burst from poor Natty's bosom, and the creaking of the yards and blocks as the brig moved imperceptibly from side to side. Then came the dull, sullen sound of a plunge, as, old Barker lifting up the end of the plank, the body slid off into the water. As I looked over the side I could see the white shrouded figure descending into the depths of ocean. Just as it disappeared, I caught sight of the dark form of a huge shark gliding towards it; but I had hopes that it had sunk far below the creature's reach before he could seize it.

"Stow away that plank," said the mate, the instant the captain's body had been launched overboard. "I wish this breeze would come, though," he added, glancing round.

Still he gave no orders to heave the lead, as the late captain had advised. I knew well enough that to remind him would only make him less likely to do it, so I said nothing, though I kept looking over into the water to see if there was any change of colour which might be produced by our getting nearer the land. Now again came one of those sullen flaps of the sails, showing that though we might seem to be at rest, the vessel was occasionally moved by no gentle force; and I could distinguish, as I looked eastward, a smooth undulation which seemed rolling away in that direction. Still the sky remained obscured as before, and a gauze-like mist hung over the ocean. The atmosphere felt hotter and more oppressive than ever. The passengers remained on deck, for the cabins were almost unbearable. The ladies were trying to read or work, but Kate alone continued to ply her active fingers. Miss Rowley scarcely turned a page, while little Bella kept looking with her large blue eyes at poor Natty, who sat with his head resting on his hands, utterly unable to recover himself. As I looked over the side I observed that the undulations I have spoken of became more and more frequent, on each occasion, as they passed, giving the brig a slow shake, and making the sails flap loudly as before. The crew were talking together, and, led by old Barker, were ranging the cable for anchoring, Mr Kydd having disappeared below. Suddenly he returned on deck.

"Who ordered you to do that?" he exclaimed in an angry tone. "Did I tell you I was going to bring the ship to an anchor?"

"No, sir," answered the boatswain; "but any one who is acquainted with these parts must know that it is the only thing to be done to save the brig and our lives. For who can tell that we may not be ashore any moment!"

"You are a mutinous rascal," exclaimed Kydd. "I will not allow the brig to be brought to an anchor till I see fit. We are fifty miles off the coast, and more than that, perhaps."

"What, with fifty fathom only under our keel!" exclaimed the boatswain. "What is the meaning, too, of these breakers away in the south-east? Mr Kydd, we must anchor, and you ought to know it."

I looked out in the direction towards which the boatswain pointed. The sun was already sinking into the ocean, and his rays lighted up a line of foam, or what looked like it, in the south-east.

Kydd, on the boatswain's remark, broke out into a furious passion, and, hurrying into his cabin, appeared again with a brace of pistols in his hand. Placing them in his belt, he walked the deck, muttering incoherently to himself. No one interfered. I felt unwilling to go below, though the steward called me to supper. The sun had long disappeared--the moon rose, and shed a bright silvery light upon the ocean. It was perfectly calm; and as, on looking round, I could see no breakers, nor hear their sound, I at length turned in. I was too anxious, however, to sleep long. On going on deck and again looking out, there I saw, not a quarter of a mile off a black ledge of rocks rising some feet out of the water. The brig was drifting by them at a rate which showed how strong a current was running. What was my surprise to see a boat coming off from the rock. "What is that?" I asked.

"Why, I have treated one mutinous rascal as I intend to treat you if you follow his example," answered Kydd, who heard my question.

I was too much astonished to speak. After pacing the deck for a few minutes I went below to consult with Stanley.

"We must put him under arrest," he said at length. "But go on deck and learn how the men take the proceeding."

On my return I found the boat alongside. The crew climbed on board. Could they really have executed so barbarous an order! Great was my relief to find the boatswain among them.

"You rascals, I ordered you to land him on these rocks!" exclaimed Kydd, when he caught sight of the old man.

"So we did; and he ordered us to take him off again," answered one of the crew. "We have as good a right to obey him as you, Mr Kydd. If you was to die, like the captain and first mate, he's the only officer left to take charge of the brig."

Kydd was a coward. This answer silenced him, and without uttering a word he went below.

The passengers assembled at breakfast the next morning with anxious faces. They knew that something was very wrong, but could not exactly tell what. The calm continued. A thick mist hung over the ocean as on the previous day, the rocks were no longer in sight, the vessel floated tranquilly on the treacherous waters. Kydd had completely recovered himself. He had the awning spread, and with a smiling countenance invited the passengers to come on deck, and tried to make himself agreeable to Miss Rowley. Some time thus passed. At last I saw the boatswain and several of the men coming up.

"Mr Kydd," said the former, "I have to ask you whether you intend to anchor, and try to keep the ship out of danger or not?"

"Not till the land is in sight, and I see the necessity," answered Kydd quite calmly. He said nothing more for a minute or so. Then suddenly he exclaimed in a furious tone, "But I am not going to be dictated to by a set of mutinous scoundrels." I need not repeat all his words.

Just at that moment I heard that peculiar low, suppressed roar which a seaman knows so well to indicate breakers I begged the mate to listen, telling him what I had heard, but he was deaf to reason, and declared he would only anchor when he saw fit. He seemed to have gone out of his mind, and I felt that I should be justified in assisting the crew in putting him under restraint; but he was in reality as much in his senses as ever, though under the influence of his passion and obstinacy. Just at that moment another roller came in toward the brig from the westward, and the next instant all on deck were almost thrown off their feet. A blow was felt which made her shake fore and aft, and the water, which had hitherto not even rippled against her side, now broke over her in a shower of spray. The passengers started up. Kate clasped her little sister round the neck, and seized the arm of her brother David, who was standing near her. "What is the matter? what has happened?" shrieked out Miss Rowley in an attitude expressive of her terror.

"We are on shore," cried some of the men; "that is what has happened."

Such was too truly the case. The old captain's warnings had been neglected, and his prognostications were thus terribly fulfilled. _

Read next: Chapter 2


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