The Missing Merchantman. Harry Collingwood. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Harry Collingwood
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 4064066162696
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which would have resulted had they been near enough to mingle.

      On board the Flying Cloud all was silent save for the persistent “whistling for a breeze” in which Captain Blyth indulged, mingled with the rustle and flap of the canvas overhead, and the patter of the reef-points occasioned by the pendulum-like roll of the ship. The water was highly phosphorescent; and the two children, carefully looked after by Mr. Gaunt, were delightedly watching from the taffrail the streams of brilliant stars and haloes produced by the gentle swaying movement of the ship’s stern-post and rudder, when far down in the liquid crystal a dim moon-like radiance was seen, which increased in intensity and gradually took form as it rose upwards until it floated just beneath the surface, its nature fully confessed by the luminosity which enveloped it from snout to tail—an enormous shark! It remained under the ship’s counter, lazily swimming to and fro athwart the ship’s stern, just long enough to allow the rest of the passengers to get a good sight of it, when it suddenly whisked round and darted off at a tremendous pace toward one of the other ships, leaving a long trailing wake of silver light behind it. A moment later, the sound of a heavy splash at some distance was heard; and whilst the little group of horrified spectators on board the Flying Cloud were still speaking of the terrible aspect presented by the monster a shout and a shrill piercing scream came floating across the water, followed by more shouting and sounds as of the hasty lowering of a boat.

      “Hark! What can that mean?” ejaculated Mrs. Gaunt.

      “Sounds as though there was something wrong aboard the barque yonder, sir,” reported one of the men to the chief-mate. (Captain Blyth happened to be below at the moment.)

      “Well, it’s no business of ours if there is,” answered Mr. Bryce, not attempting to move from his seat.

      “Did you ever know such a brute as that man is?” whispered Mrs. Gaunt to Miss Stanhope.

      “Never,” was the reply. “That I am free from any further association with him will be my most pleasant reflection when I leave the ship.”

      The flash of oars in the phosphorescent water showed that a boat had been lowered from the barque, and she could be faintly seen pulling about for some time afterwards; but at length she returned to the ship. The cheep of the tackle-blocks could be heard as she was hoisted up, and that ended the incident for the night.

      On running into the calm the Flying Cloud had, of course, been stripped of her studding-sails in order that she might be ready to meet the light variable airs which were all she would have to depend upon to help her across the calm belt; and about nine o’clock that evening one of these little puffs, accompanied by a smart shower of rain, came out from the westward, lasting nearly an hour, and enabling the little fleet to make some four miles of progress on their several ways, some of the vessels being bound north, whilst the others were making their way in the opposite direction.

      The following morning dawned with another flat calm; but that the crews of the several ships had not been idle during the night was shown by the scattered appearance of the fleet. Six of the fifteen sail counted by Captain Blyth on the previous evening were hull-down to the northward, in which direction three more vessels had put in an appearance during the hours of darkness; but these three were all in a bunch and about twelve miles to the northward and westward of the Flying Cloud. A solitary sail had also hove up above the southern horizon during the same period, and the remaining nine were scattered over an area of about seven miles; the barque before referred to being nearest the Flying Cloud, but a shade to the southward of her, showing how partial had been the light airs encountered during the night.

      About four bells in the forenoon watch, that day, a few light cats’-paws were seen stealing over the surface of the water from the southward, and the sails of the several vessels were properly trimmed to meet them. The Flying Cloud happened to be heading to the westward, whilst the barque was heading east when the little breeze reached them, in consequence of which the two vessels began to approach each other on opposite tacks as soon as their canvas filled. Captain Blyth had been informed of the mysterious incident of the previous night on board the barque, and he now announced his intention of speaking her if the breeze lasted long enough to bring the two vessels within speaking distance. It was at first doubtful if this would be the case, but when the two vessels were within about a cable’s-length of each other a somewhat stronger puff came up, dying away again just as the Flying Cloud was slowly passing under the barque’s stern.

      The usual hails were exchanged, by means of which each captain was made acquainted with the name, destination, port sailed from, number of days out, and so on, of the other vessel (the barque turning out to be the Ceres, of Liverpool, bound from that port to Capetown); and then Captain Blyth continued:

      “Was anything wrong on board you last night? Some of my people thought they heard some sort of a commotion in your direction.”

      “Yes,” answered the skipper from the barque. “I am grieved to say that we lost one of our best men. The poor, foolish fellow—unknown to me, of course—took the notion into his head to jump overboard, with the idea of swimming round the ship. He jumped from the starboard cat-head, and had very nearly completed his journey when he was seized by a shark and carried off from under our very eyes, as it might be. We lowered the gig and gave chase, but the boat could not get near him, and at last the fish dived, taking the man down with him, and we never saw any more of either. Good-bye! if we don’t meet again I’ll be sure to report you when we get in!”

      The vessels gradually drifted apart, and the short colloquy was brought to a close.

      “Good heavens, how horrible!” ejaculated Gaunt, turning to his fellow-passengers, who, with himself, had heard the short history of the tragedy. “That must, undoubtedly, have been the identical shark we saw. Being in the water he, of course, heard the plunge of the unfortunate man before the sound reached our ears, and at once made off, as we saw, in that direction. How little we dreamed of the fatal errand on which he was bound as we watched him disappear! Truly, ‘in the midst of life we are in death.’ ”

      Shortly before noon a black, heavy, thunderous-looking cloud worked up from the southward, and, when immediately over the ship, burst with a tremendous downpour of rain, but with no wind. Seeing that the fall was likely to be heavy, Captain Blyth ordered a couple of studding-sails to be opened out and spread to catch the water as it fell, and so copious was the shower that not only did they succeed in completely refilling all the tanks, but, by plugging up the scupper-holes the men were actually enabled to enjoy the unwonted luxury of a thorough personal cleansing in the warm soft water, and also to wash a change of clothing. The ladies and children, had, of course, been driven below by the heavy downpour; but they were not forgotten, Messrs Henderson and Gaunt taking care to promptly secure a sufficiency of water to afford each of them the treat of a copious fresh-water bath.

      Between sunrise and sunset that day, the Flying Cloud contrived to make nearly eight miles of southing, and a small slant of wind during the night enabled her to make about fourteen more. When morning dawned they were again becalmed; but the sky was overcast, and it was evident that a heavy thunder-squall was working up from the eastward, and Captain Blyth was in hopes that when it came it would do them good service. He was on deck at daylight, eager to see if he could discover any traces of the Southern Cross; and great was his jubilation when, after a most careful scanning of the horizon from the main-topgallant-yard, he failed to detect anything at all like her in sight.

      By breakfast-time the aspect of the sky was so threatening that Captain Blyth gave instructions to have all the lighter canvas taken in, leaving the ship under topsails, courses, fore-topmast staysail, jib, and mizen. It was well that he took this precaution, for just as they sat down to breakfast it began to thunder and lighten heavily, and about ten minutes later, a terrific downpour of rain followed. The rain suddenly ceased, and the murky darkness of the atmosphere as suddenly gave place to a vivid yellow light, a change which caused the skipper to spring to his feet and rush out on deck without even the pretence of an apology to his passengers for so abrupt a movement. On reaching the deck his first glance was to the eastward, the direction from which the light emanated, and he then saw that the heavy veil of black cloud—which now