Chapter 7

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_ CHAPTER SEVEN.

Never did a vessel leave port under more propitious circumstances than did the _Zodiac_, with a fair, steady breeze, a smooth sea, and at a time of the year when there was every prospect of the continuance of fine weather.

As Bowse walked the deck with a spy-glass under his arm in man-of-war fashion, a smile of contentment lit up his honest countenance, and glistened in his eye; and as he felt the freshening breeze fanning his cheek, and lifting his vessel, as it were, he began to laugh at his momentary suspicions about the character of the speronara and her crew. Every now and then he would stop in his walk, and would look over the side to judge how fast the vessel was going through the water, or he would examine the compasses to assure himself that they were true, or he would cast his eye aloft to see how his sails drew, or his clear, full voice would be heard issuing some necessary order for the government of the ship.

Even Colonel Gauntlett could not help expressing his satisfaction at the propitious commencement of their voyage, as he stopped in his short and otherwise silent walk on the poop to address a few words to the master.

Ada sat silently in her chair, gazing on the fast-receding shore; and it is not surprising that her thoughts were fixed on him who was, she felt sure, even then watching, from its most extreme point, the bark which bore her away. Her little Maltese maid, Marianna, stood by her side with tears in her bright eyes, and gazing her last for an indefinite time on the land of her birth, and where all her affections were centred, except those which had lately arisen for her young mistress.

The colonel's man, not knowing exactly where he ought to be, being too dignified, at first, to mix with the men forward, and astonished and confused at manoeuvres which he could not comprehend, as is generally the case with his class, always managed to get exactly where he was most in the way.

"Port a little, you may, my son," said the master to the man at the helm; "steady, so, keep her. East-and-by-north is the course," pronouncing the north with a strong emphasis on the O, and without the R--as if it were spelt Nothe. "Just get a gentle pull on our weather-braces, Mr Timmins," to the mate. "The wind's drawing a little more aft again. We're making her walk along, sir," to the colonel. "She's not going less than six knots an hour, I'll warrant, which, with this light wind, is not bad for a craft of her build--she's no clipper, I own, sir. Heave the log here. I dare say you'll like to be certain, miss," turning to Ada, as he thought the operation would amuse her.

The second mate and two hands came aft with the log-line and reel. Bowse took a half-minute glass from the binnacle, and watching till all the sand had run into one end, held it up before him. The seamen, meantime, held the reel up before him, so as to allow it to turn easily in his hands, and the mate, taking the little triangular bit of wood, called the log-ship, adjusted the peg, and drew off, with a peculiar jerk of his left hand, several coils of the stray-line, which he held for a moment over the quarter of the vessel, till he saw that his chief was ready with the glass, and he then hove it over into the water. The first part of the line is called the stray-line, and its object is to allow the log-ship to settle properly in the water, as well as to take it clear of the eddy. As soon as this part had run out, a cloth mark ran through the mate's fingers. "Turn," he exclaimed. "Turn," repeated the master, and turned the glass. The marks rapidly passed through the mate's hand, as he jerked the line of the reel, always keeping it at a stretch.

"Stop," sung out Bowse, as the sand had run out of the upper end of the glass.

"Done," said the mate, and stopped the line.

He had not to count the knots run off, for his experienced eye was able to tell the number by the mark on the line. It must be understood that this line is divided into a certain number of equal parts, each of which bears the same proportion to a mile, which thirty seconds do to an hour, and therefore, as the log-ship remains stationary in the water, according to the number of these proportions dragged through, while the sand is running, so is shown how many miles or knots the vessel is going through the water.

"Six and a quarter," exclaimed the mate. "That's what I call good going for a ship with a full cargo, in a breeze like this."

"That's what we call heaving the log, Miss Garden," said the master, who had been explaining the use of the log, though in not quite so succinct a way as I have attempted to do. "You'll be able to turn the glass another time, I'm sure."

The glass runs, in reality, only for twenty-eight seconds, as two are considered to be employed in turning it.

Ada, who enjoyed an advantage over the reader, by having the operation performed before her eyes, answered that she clearly understood it, and would always, in future, hold the glass.

"By this calculation, you see, miss, as it is just two hours since we passed Fort Saint Elmo, we have run exactly twelve knots and a half off the reel; though we didn't go through the water so fast at first, as we are now doing. However, by the look of the land, I calculate we are not much less than that off it. You see we call miles--knots, miss, on account of the knots which are marked on the line. When we can just see the last of some conspicuous point, we shall take its bearing by compass and its distance, and then I shall commence pricking the ship's course off on the chart, and that is what we call taking our departure. Now you see there's many people on shore would fancy that when we left the port we took our departure; but the ties which bind a seaman to the shore, and to those we leave behind, are not so quickly parted as they may think, you see, miss." And the honest master, chuckling at one of the first attempts at wit and gallantry of which he had ever been guilty, thought the next instant he blushed at his own audacity.

"It's surprising, miss, what funny mistakes them who never leave the land make about seafaring concerns; but then, what can you expect of them? they know no better," he added, in a tone showing the deep commiseration he felt for the ignorance of landsmen. "To say that they don't know the stem from the stern, isn't to say anything. They know nothing about a ship, how she's built, how she sails, or what she's like. The last voyage I made I had a passenger on board who was a cleverish sort of gentleman, too, and for talking politics he'd go on for an hour; yet he wanted to know why I couldn't bring the ship to an anchor right out in the Bay of Biscay; and one night, when it was blowing a stiffish gale, with a heavy sea running, he roused me out of my sleep to ask me to send a better hand to the helm; one who knew how to keep the craft steady, or else to run into some harbour till the morning. He never could get it out of his head that he was not in the Thames. Now, miss, I see that you are not one of those sort of people, and that you will soon know all about a ship, though you may not just yet be able to act the captain. To-morrow I'll show you how to shoot the sun, as we tell greenhorns we are doing, when we take an observation with the quadrant. It's a very pretty instrument, and you will be pleased to know how to use it."

"I shall like very much to learn all you can teach me, Captain Bowse," answered Ada, making a great effort to rouse herself from the feeling of sadness which oppressed her. "I wonder how mariners managed to traverse, as they did, the most distant seas, before these instruments were invented."

"They used to trust more to the sun and stars, and to their lead reckoning, than they do now, I suppose, miss," answered the master. "Even now, there's many a man in charge of a vessel who never takes more than a meridional observation, if even that; and having found his latitude, runs down the longitude by dead reckoning. Some even go about to many distant parts entirely by rule of guess, and it is extraordinary how often they hit their point. Now and then, to be sure, they find themselves two or three hundred miles out of their course, and sometimes they get the ship cast away. I have, too, met vessels out in the Atlantic which had entirely lost their reckoning, and had not the slightest notion where they were. Once, I remember, when I belonged to the _Harkaway_ frigate, coming home from the Brazils, we sighted a Spanish man-of-war corvette. When we got up to her we hove to, and an officer came on board who could speak a little English; and you would scarcely believe it, but the first thing he did was to ask us for the latitude and longitude; and he confessed that the only instruments they had on board were out of repair, and, for what I know, the only man who knew how to use them was ill. Our captain then sent an officer on board the corvette, and a pretty condition she was in for a man-of-war. They had a governor of some place as a passenger, and his wife and family, and two or three other ladies and their families; and there they were all lying about the decks in a state of despair, thinking they were never to see land again. They had been a whole month tossing about in every direction, and not knowing how to find the way home. The decks were as dirty as if they had not been holystoned or swept all that time; not a sail was properly set, not a rope flemished down. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I could not have believed such a thing possible. Our appearance raised their spirits a little, and they began putting themselves to rights as soon as they had made sail on their course. They kept company with us till we got into the latitude of Cadiz, for their craft sailed very well, for all that they did not know how to handle her, and I believe that they managed to get into port in safety at last."

"I am surprised at what you tell me," observed Miss Garden, "I should have thought the Spaniards could not have so totally forgotten their ancient naval renown as to allow such dreadful ignorance to exist."

"The men are active, intelligent fellows enough, and the officers in the merchant service are, from what I have seen, very good seamen; but since the war, their navy has been much neglected, and men were made officers who did not know the stem from the stern of the ship, just because they happened to be some poor dependent of one of their nobles, or the son of a valet out of place. Things are mending a little now with them, I hear."

"I wonder any but such beggarly fellows as you speak of can be induced to go into the navy at all," said the colonel, who had been listening to the master's story, and was far from pleased at the interest Ada took in what he said. "For my part, I would as soon be a shoe-black; but you seem determined to give my niece a dose of the sea."

"Oh, yes, sir!" answered Bowse, perfectly indifferent to the colonel's ill-temper; "I hope we shall make the young lady a first-rate sailor before long."

"I hope you will do no such thing, Mr Bowse; she thinks a great deal too much about it already," returned the colonel, taking another turn aft.

"Indeed I do not, uncle," replied Ada, as he came back, in a half-playful tone, calculated to disarm his anger. "You must acknowledge that the scene before us is very beautiful and enjoyable. Look at that blue and joyous sea, how the waves leap and curl as if in sport, their crests just fringed with sparkling bubbles of snow-white foam, which, in the freshness of their new-born existence, seem inclined to take wing into the air--then, what can be more bright and clear than the expanse of sky above us, or more pure than the breeze which wafts us along. Look, too, at the blue, misty hills of our dear Malta, just rising from the water. What mere mole-hills those wild rocks now seem. And then that glorious mass of glowing fire which spreads far and wide round the sun as he sinks into that clear outline of sea; and distant though it seems, sends its reflection across the waves even up to the very ship itself. Ah! if one could but secure that orange tinge, one might gaze at it unwearied all day long. See, also, the dark, fantastically-shaped spots on the ocean as the sails of the distant vessels appear between us and the sun, like evil spirits gliding about the ocean to cause shipwrecks and disaster; while again, on the opposite quarter, the canvas appears of snowy whiteness, just catching the last rays of the light-giving orb of day, and we would fain believe them benign beings hovering over the ocean, to protect us poor mortals from the malign influences of their antagonists; while our proud ship glides majestically along in solitary grandeur, casting indignantly aside the waves which it seems to rule, like some mighty monarch galloping over the broad domains which own him as their lord. Come, uncle, can you deny the correctness of my description? And I am sure Captain Bowse will agree with me."

She laughed playfully at her attempts at a description of the scene surrounding them, and which she had purposely made as long as she could find words to go on with, well-knowing the effect which her own sweet voice exercised in calming the habitual irritation of her uncle.

"A pretty bit of jargon you have managed to string together," said the colonel, looking more amiable than he had before done, "and that is what I suppose you call a poetical description, missie. Well, as it does not convey a bad idea of what we have before our eyes, it must pass for something of the sort, I suppose. What do you say, Mister Bowse?"

Now, although Bowse had not entirely comprehended all that Ada had said, he felt that he was called on to give an answer, and accordingly looked round the horizon, as if to satisfy himself that her description was correct. He had taken a survey of the whole expanse of the sea to the westward, and his eye had gradually swept round to the east, when, instead of turning round to answer, he kept it fixed on a distant spot just seen over the weather or larboard bow. Shifting his position a little, he placed his telescope to his eye, and took a steady gaze.

"That's her, I can't help thinking," he muttered. "But what she wants out there, I can't say."

To the surprise of Ada, he walked forward, and called his mate to his side.

"Here, Mr Timmins, just tell me what you think of that chap out there, over the weather cat-head," he said, giving his officer the glass.

The mate took the instrument, and looked as he was directed.

"She's a lateen-rigged craft standing on a wind athwart our course, sir," answered the mate instantly, as if there was no difficulty in ascertaining thus much.

"That one may see with half an eye, Mr Timmins; but do you see nothing unusual about her?"

"I can't say that I see any difference between her and the craft, which one is always meeting with in these seas," answered the mate. "Her canvas stands well, and looks very white as we see her beam almost on to us. She seems one of those vessels with a name I never could manage to speak, which trade along the coast of Sicily and Italy, and come over to Malta."

"By the way she is standing, she will pass at no great distance to leeward of us, and if she was to haul up a little, she would just about reach us," observed the master in a tone of interrogation.

"Just about it, sir," replied the mate.

"Well, then, Mr Timmins, keep your eye on her, and when we get near her, if there is still light enough left to make her out, tell me if you have ever seen her before."

The mate, somewhat surprised at the directions his chief had given him, prepared, however, to obey them, and while he superintended the people on deck, he constantly kept his telescope fixed on the stranger. A quarter of an hour or twenty minutes might have passed, when, after taking a longer scrutiny than before, he suddenly turned round, and walked to where his commander was standing.

"I know her, sir," he exclaimed. "She is no other than the craft which nearly ran foul of us yesterday, and which went out of harbour this morning. She had two outlandish-looking chaps as passengers; and one of them came on board in the evening to talk about taking a passage to Greece. I remember him well, sir, though I did not say anything to you."

"You are right, Mr Timmins, it's her, there's no doubt," said Bowse. "We'll give her a wide berth, for there seems to be something suspicious about her," and he mentioned what Captain Fleetwood had said to him. "I don't think the chap would dare to attack us; but, with females on board, it's as well to be cautious. We'll haul up a little by degrees, not to make it remarkable, so as to pass to windward of him, and have the guns loaded and run out, just as a matter of course, in the Mediterranean, tell the people. I don't want to have any talking about it, you know; for it will all be moonshine, I suspect. Look you, too, have the small arms and cutlasses up on deck, just to overhaul them, as it were. The studden-sails must come in, at all events; it won't do to be carrying on at night as if we had fifty hands in a watch instead of five. Now let the people knock off work."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the mate, and, without the slightest appearance of hurry, he set to work to obey his commander's orders.

The crew, who had been employed beyond the usual hour in getting the ship to right, finished stowing away everything that was loose, and got the hatches on over the cargo. One after another the studden-sails, which had been extended beyond the yard-arms came flying down like huge white birds from their lofty perches, the moment the halyards and sheets were let go, and, as they bulged out, they looked as if they were about to sail off before the wind ahead of the vessel. As all hands were wanted for the work, Bowse clapped on himself, petting a rope into even Mitchell's hands, and in a short time the _Zodiac_, stripped of her wings, was brought under more easy-working canvas. The lee-braces were then flattened in a little, and the helm being put a few strokes to starboard, she headed up towards the north. While the mate was following the other directions he had given, Bowse again brought his glass to bear on the speronara, and, while so doing, his eye was attracted to a sail which appeared in the horizon, and which he at once knew to be a square-rigged vessel. From its height, too, above the water, and its faint outline, he judged her to be a ship or a brig of some size. He had, indeed, remarked her some time before, and it now occurred to him that she had not altered her position since first seen. It would therefore appear that she was standing the same course as the _Zodiac_; but as they neared her rapidly, such could scarcely be the case, and he, now seeing that her head was turned towards them, could only come to the conclusion that she was hove to. He calculated, also, that the speronara, supposing that she had, for some time, steered the same course she was now on, must have passed close to her.

The idea came into the master's head more as a matter of speculation than because any further suspicions occurred to him, for the probability of those he still entertained being correct, he thought so very slight, that he was almost vexed with himself for acting on them; and had it not been for his promise to Captain Fleetwood, he most likely would have done so. That the speronara, now to leeward of him, was the self-same craft he had seen in Malta harbour, he could, however, no longer entertain a doubt. He had noted her long, low hull, with overhanging stern and high bow, the great length of her tapering yards, and the way her immense lateen sails stood; there was also a peculiar dark mark on the cloth next to the outer leech of her foresail, near the head of the yard, which was unmistakable, and when he could clearly see that her identity would be proved. As he now brought his glass again to bear on the speronara, he saw that as the _Zodiac_ was brought on a wind, she was immediately hauled close on it, so that, notwithstanding the change he had made in his course, she might still pass, if she liked, even to windward of him, unless she also chose to hug the wind as he had done. On seeing this, the spirit of the British sailor was roused within him.

"Oh, hang it," he muttered. "I'm not going to be altering my course for fear of a rascally Italian piccaroon, if such that fellow should be. If he chooses to come near us, he must take the consequences. We'll show him that we've got some bulldogs on board who can bark pretty well if they like. But I forgot the young lady, and the little Smaitch girl with her. It won't do to let them run any risk of being hurt, should the villains begin by firing into us before they speak, as is the fashion of the cowards. I must manage to get them down below without frightening them."

Having arrived at the conclusion of these cogitations, Bowse approached to where the colonel and his niece were sitting; the young lady employed in gazing on the sea, while he was looking with somewhat an inquiring eye at the preparations carrying on under the mate's superintendence on deck.

"Don't you think the young lady had better go below, out of the way of the damp, sir," began Bowse, puzzled what excuse to make.

"Damp! surely there's none to hurt me," said Ada, looking up somewhat surprised. "It is so refreshing."

"No, miss, the cold--the night air may do you harm," rejoined Bowse.

"I have no fear of either," answered Ada. "It's quite warm, and I do not even require a cloak."

The master was sadly perplexed, and the colonel would not come to his aid; at last he bethought him of a better reason, which must succeed.

"Yes, miss; but you see it's coming on night, and it's a rule that all ladies should go below at night," he said, in a grave tone.

This made Ada fairly laugh outright.

"Oh! but I intend to break through the rule, I can assure you. The evening, when the moon is playing on the water, is the most delightful time of the twenty-four hours; and you will not persuade me to forego its pleasures."

The colonel at length came to his rescue.

"What is it makes you so anxious for my niece to go below, Mr Bowse?" he asked. "If you have any particular reason, pray mention it, and I am sure she will be most ready to obey your wishes."

"Why, sir," said Bowse, drawing the colonel, who had risen, a little forward, and whispering so as not, he thought, to be heard by Ada; "you see, sir, I don't quite like the look of that craft we are nearing--some murderous work has been done lately in these seas; and I was told, just before we sailed, to be cautious of her--that's all."

"It was for that reason you were loading your guns, and getting up your arms?" exclaimed the colonel, in a less cautious voice than that in which the kind master had spoken. "Very right and proper. I'm glad to see precautions taken. We'll fight the rascals with pleasure."

Ada overheard the words, and coming up, placed her arm on her uncle's.

"What is the matter?--Is there any danger?" she exclaimed, in a pleading tone. "If there is--oh! let me share it with you. Do not send me down into the cabin." She trembled, but it was more with excitement than fear.

"Oh! nonsense, girl--suppose there was any danger, what object could there be in your staying on deck?" answered the colonel. "You couldn't save me from being hurt, missie, and I don't think you would manage to hurt any of the enemy, if there should prove to be one in the case, after all, which is in no way certain yet."

While the colonel was speaking, Bowse again looked at the speronara. He now, to a certainty, ascertained that she had the dark mark in her foresail, and that she was full of men. This at once decided him in urging Miss Garden to go below, and on her still resisting, the colonel gave indubitable signs of anger.

"Come, come, missie, no more nonsense. Go below you must, without further delay, and take your little nigger with you."

Ada pleaded for a few minutes more to see what was likely to happen, but in vain, and was reluctantly compelled, in company with her maid, to go into her cabin, there to await the result of the meeting between the two vessels. Ada did as every right-minded girl, under the circumstances, would do--she knelt in prayer--not through abject fear for her own safety, did she pray, for of herself she thought not; but she prayed that her uncle, and the brave men with him on deck, might be shielded from danger--a danger which it was very natural that from what she had heard she should considerably exaggerate. _

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