Immediately after, the cruiser ranged up alongside, and the order to heave-to was repeated with a threat that was calculated to cause the hair of a man of peace to stand on end. The effect on Captain Dunning was to induce him to give the order—
“Point the guns there, lads, and aim high; I don’t like to draw first blood—even of a pirate.”
“Ship ahoy! Who are you, and where from?” inquired Captain Dunning, through the speaking-trumpet.
“Her British Majesty’s frigate Firebrand. If you don’t heave-to, sir, instantly, I’ll give you a broadside. Who are you, and where bound?”
“Whew!” whistled Captain Dunning, to vent his feelings of surprise ere he replied, “The Red Eric, South Sea whaler, outward bound.”
Having given this piece of information, he ordered the topsails to be backed, and the ship was hove-to. Meanwhile a boat was lowered from the cruiser, and the captain thereof speedily leaped upon the whaler’s quarterdeck.
The explanation that followed was not by any means calculated to allay the irritation of the British captain. He had made quite sure that the Red Eric was the slaver of which he was in search, and the discovery of his mistake induced him to make several rather severe remarks in reference to the crew of the Red Eric generally and her commander in particular.
“Why didn’t you heave-to when I ordered you,” he said, “and so save all this trouble and worry?”
“Because,” replied Captain Dunning drily, “I’m not in the habit of obeying orders until I know that he who gives ’em has a right to do so. But ’tis a pity to waste time talking about such trifles when the craft you are in search of is not very far away at this moment.”
“What mean you, sir?” inquired the captain of the cruiser quickly.
“I mean that yonder vessel, scarcely visible now on the lee bow, is the slaver, in all likelihood.”
The captain gave but one hasty glance in the direction pointed to by Captain Dunning, and next moment he was over the side of the ship, and the boat was flying swiftly towards his vessel. The rapid orders given on board the cruiser soon after, showed that her commander was eagerly in pursuit of the strange vessel ahead, and the flash and report of a couple of guns proved that he was again giving orders in his somewhat peremptory style.
When daylight appeared, Captain Dunning was still on deck, and Glynn Proctor stood by the wheel. The post of the latter, however, was a sinecure, as the wind had again fallen. When the sun rose it revealed the three vessels lying becalmed within a short distance of each other and several miles off shore.
“So, so,” exclaimed the captain, taking the glass and examining the other vessels. “I see it’s all up with the slaver. Serves him right; don’t it, Glynn?”
“It does,” replied Glynn emphatically. “I hope they will all be hanged. Isn’t that the usual way of serving these fellows out?”
“Well, not exactly, lad. They don’t go quite that length—more’s the pity; if they did, there would be less slave-trading; but the rascals will lose both ship and cargo.”
“I wonder,” said Glynn, “how they can afford to carry on the trade when they lose so many ships as I am told they do every year.”
“You wouldn’t wonder, boy, if you knew the enormous prices got for slaves. Why, the profits on one cargo, safely delivered, will more than cover the loss of several vessels and cargoes. You may depend on’t they would not carry it on if it did not pay.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Glynn, giving the wheel a savage turn, as if to express his thorough disapprobation of the slave-trade, and his extreme disgust at not being able, by the strength of his own right arm, at once to repress it. “And who’s to pay for our foretopsail-yard?” he inquired, abruptly, as if desirous of changing the subject.
“Ourselves, I fear,” replied the captain. “We must take it philosophically, and comfort ourselves with the fact that it is the foretopsail-yard, and not the bowsprit or the mainmast, that was carried away. It’s not likely the captain of the cruiser will pay for it, at any rate.”
Captain Dunning was wrong. That same morning he received a polite note from the commander of the said cruiser, requesting the pleasure of his company to dinner, in the event of the calm continuing, and assuring him that the carpenter and the sail-maker of the man-of-war should be sent on board his ship after breakfast to repair damages. Captain Dunning, therefore, like an honest, straightforward man as he was, admitted that he had been hasty in his judgment, and stated to Glynn Proctor, emphatically, that the commander of the Firebrand was “a trump.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
New Scenes—A Fight Prevented by a Whale—A Storm—Blown off the Yardarm—Wreck of the “Red Eric”.
Five weeks passed away, and really, when one comes to consider the matter, it is surprising what a variety of events may be compressed into five weeks; what an amount of space may be passed over, what an immense change of scene and circumstance may be experienced in that comparatively short period of time.
Men and women who remain quietly at home do not, perhaps, fully realise this fact. Five weeks to them does not usually seem either very long or very short. But let those quiet ones travel; let them rush away headlong, by the aid of wind and steam, to the distant and wonderful parts of this wonderful world of ours, and, ten to one, they will afterwards tell you that the most wonderful discovery they had made during their travels, is the fact that a miniature lifetime (apparently) can be compressed into five weeks.
Five weeks passed away, and in the course of that time the foretopsail-yard of the Red Eric had been repaired; the Red Eric herself had passed from equatorial into southern seas; Alice Dunning had become very sea-sick, which caused her to look uncommonly green in the face, and had got well again, which caused her to become fresh and rosy as the early morning; Jacko had thoroughly established his reputation as the most arrant and accomplished thief that ever went to sea: King Bumble had been maligned and abused again and again, and over again, despite his protestations of innocence, by grim-faced Tarquin, the steward, for having done the deeds which were afterwards discovered to have been committed by Jacko; fat little Gurney had sung innumerable songs of his own composing, in which he was ably supported by Glynn Proctor; Dr Hopley had examined, phrenologically, all the heads on board, with the exception of that of Tarquin, who would not submit to the operation on any account, and had shot, and skinned, and stuffed a variety of curious sea-birds, and caught a number of remarkable sea-fish, and had microscopically examined—to the immense interest of Ailie, and consequently of the captain—a great many surprising animalcules, called Medusae, which possessed the most watery and the thinnest possible bodies, yet which had the power of emitting a beautiful phosphoric light at night, so as to cause the whole ocean sometimes to glow as if with liquid fire; Phil Briant had cracked more jokes, good, bad, and indifferent, than would serve to fill a whole volume of closely-printed pages, and had told more stories than would be believed by most people; Tim Rokens and the other harpooners had, with the assistance of the various boats’ crews, slain and captured several large whales, and Nikel Sling had prepared, and assisted to consume, as many breakfasts, dinners, and suppers as there are days in the period of time above referred to;—in short, those five weeks, which we thus dismiss in five minutes, might, if enlarged upon, be expanded into material to fill five volumes such as this, which would probably take about five years to write—another reason for cutting this matter short. All this shows how much may be compressed into little space, how much may be done and seen in little time, and, therefore, how much value men ought to attach to little things.
Five