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For Treasure Bound

<h3>Chapter Seven.</h3> <h4>The Sea-Serpent.</h4> The breeze, though it continued light and rather baffling at times, still held when the sun rose next morning; and on looking astern, I found that the homeward-bound ships had all disappeared; and of the outward-bound craft, our light heels had enabled us to get so far ahead that the topsails of the nearest were already dipping. Of course, light winds and smooth water made exactly our kind of weather; and the enormous spread of our lighter sails caused the little craft to slip through the water in quite an extraordinary manner, whenever we could show them. There was just enough wind to barely ruffle the surface of the gently-swelling ocean, yet our patent log told us we were going rather over six knots, mainly through the persuasive influence of our spinnaker and gigantic balloon-topsail. At noon our observations showed that we were nearly a degree south of the line; and I began to be sanguine that the breeze we now had would run us into the trades. In this, however, I was disappointed; for about sundown the wind fell so light that we barely had steerage-way. All night long it continued the same, and the greater part of next day; and for about sixteen hours I considered that we did not advance more than a knot per hour. Towards the close of that afternoon, however, when I came on deck to take the first dog-watch, Bob directed my attention to the appearance of the sky in the south-eastern quarter, announcing it as his opinion that there was a look of the trades about it. And so it proved, for the breeze gradually freshened, and drew more round from the eastward, and by eight bells we were doing our nine knots, with a nice fresh breeze. This was doubtless the first of the south-east trade-winds; for by midnight it had so far freshened that, for the sake of our spars, it became necessary to take in our spinnaker and balloon-topsail, and to substitute for them the working jib and our jib-headed topsail. Even this would have been deemed perilous sail for so tiny a craft by most persons; but we were by this time thoroughly acquainted with the Lily, and knew that she would carry with ease all the canvas that her spars would bear. Nothing particular occurred for the next two days. The wind held, and continued to blow with a force which was, for us, a good, staggering breeze, but without much sea; and we kept flying to the southward at a pace which left even my impatience no reason for complaint. On the second day after getting the breeze, we passed the Brazilian mail-boat near enough to show our number in the yacht-list, and to ask him, by signal, to report us “all well.” The next morning it was my watch on deck until noon. Bob had cleared away the breakfast, carefully washing up everything, and stowing it away, and had been in his hammock about an hour. I was enjoying the fresh beauty of the morning and the exultant feeling excited by our rapid motion, and picturing to my imagination the delight with which my father would welcome the appearance of our snowy canvas—when we should heave in sight—when my visions were dispersed by a loud, cracking sound like the report of a rifle, from some distance away on our weatherbow. I looked in that direction, and caught a momentary glimpse of some distant object whirling in the air, and immediately afterwards the sound was repeated. I stood up to get a better view over the low ridges of the sea, and at the same instant caught sight of what looked like a jet of steam rising out of the ocean. “There she blows!” exclaimed I, involuntarily, aloud. Again up whirled the object I had before observed; again it descended, and again came the rifle-like report I knew in an instant now what it was. An unfortunate whale had fallen in with his inveterate enemy, a “thresher,” and had been forthwith attacked. I could plainly distinguish the huge creature plunging along at a great rate, and at an angle of about forty-five degrees with our course; so that he was standing in such a direction as would take him across our bows. From the persistent manner in which he remained at the surface, I came to the conclusion that he had a second enemy to contend with in the shape of a sword-fish. Indeed, the way in which he began to plunge about soon put the matter almost beyond a doubt I was turning over in my mind whether I should call Bob to see this sight, when the whale, with a mighty effort, flung his huge bulk completely out of the water, to a height of, I should say, fifteen or twenty feet; and, sure enough, hanging to him was a large sword-fish, with his beak driven deep into the muscles about the root of the persecuted animal’s tail. I shouted to Bob to come on deck at once, for we had neared each other so much by this time, that I had an excellent view of the combat. And, moreover, it struck me that a slight deviation in the course of the combatants might bring them within extremely unpleasant proximity to the little Lily, and I thought it might be prudent to have Bob on deck. He was up in an instant, not waiting to perform the almost superfluous ceremony of dressing, and there we both stood, so intensely absorbed in the interest of the exciting spectacle that the little craft was almost left to take care of herself. The whale had got very nearly straight ahead of us by this time, and not more than half a mile distant. Bob went forward, and stood leaning against the mast, to get a somewhat better view. Suddenly, the chase bore sharply up, and dashed away at tremendous speed in exactly the opposite direction to that which he had been pursuing before. Almost at the same instant Bob shrieked, in a shrill unnatural tone of voice: “Luff! Harry—luff! round with her for the Lord’s sake! Oh, my God!” Down went the helm, and up flew the little Lily into the wind, and I was just stooping to let go the head-sheets (which led aft), when I caught a glimpse of Bob’s face, white and drawn with horror, and his eyes—almost starting out of his head—staring fixedly at something apparently broad on our starboard-bow. I looked, naturally, in the same direction myself, and never to my dying day shall I forget the frightful, appalling object which met my gaze. At a distance of not more than three cables’ lengths from us, rushing through the water at a speed equal to that of a railway train, and lashing the water into foam with the rapid movement of his huge convolutions, a monstrous serpent appeared, darting towards the wretched persecuted whale. His vast head and fully twenty feet of his body towered nearly erect above the water, and I believe I am not exaggerating, nay, that I am within the mark, when I say that the remaining portion of his body, to the tail, was at least six times that length. His head was shaped much like that of a python, and his enormous jaws, which he frequently opened, disclosed a formidable array of strong sharp fangs. His body was of a deep dead brown, broadly marked with irregular stripes and rings of pale stone-colour; and he emitted a strong musky odour, which, even at our distance from him, was almost overpowering. Once, when he was closest to us, he turned his head in our direction, and for one dread moment he paused, seeming to gather his folds together as though about to dart upon us, and the bitterness of a frightful death thrilled through me. The next instant he sped on once more at still greater speed, and before another minute passed the whale was overtaken. The ocean was, for a single instant, lashed into the semblance of a boiling caldron; we saw a rapid whirling movement of the creature’s enormous coils, and then followed the deep bellowing cries of the tortured whale, and the crunching sound of its crushing bones. During the minute or two which had passed since our helm was put down, the Lily had been lying to on the starboard tack; our head-sheets still remaining fast on the starboard side. The seizure of the whale awoke me, as from a horrible nightmare, to the fearful peril to which we still remained exposed; and I jammed the helm hard up, and wore the craft sharp round on her heel until dead before the wind, when I eased off the main-sheet, and we hurried as fast as the wind would take us away from the spot. As soon as we had got the Water Lily round, and were fairly running away from our dangerous neighbour, we both, with one accord, turned a look astern, to ascertain the condition of things in that quarter. The serpent and the whale had both disappeared. Doubtless the former had sunk with his prey to those profound depths which form his usual habitat, there to enjoy his meal undisturbed. “Well,” at last exclaimed Bob, “I’ve been knocking about at sea now nigh on thirty year, and many’s the strange sight these good-looking eyes of mine have looked upon in that time; but this here sarpent beats all. I never seed the likes of the thing afore, and I don’t care if I never sees it ag’in. I’ve heern tell of such things bein’ fallen in with, sartaintly; but I never could meet with a man as had act’ally seed the beast with his own eyes; and I put it all down as a yarn for the marines. But seein’ is believin’; and we’ve had a good look at him, and no mistake. I’m quite satisfied; I don’t want to see no more to make me a believer in sich things.” “No,” replied I; “it was impossible to make any mistake, with such a view as we obtained of the creature; and I shall henceforward be far more ready than I have hitherto been to give credit to the accounts which are occasionally published of such appearances. I do not at all expect that we shall be believed when we make known our adventure, any more than others have been; but that will not alter the facts of the case. The almost universal scepticism with which announcements of such creatures’ appearances are treated is, after all, not very difficult to account for. They doubtless inhabit only the extreme depths of the ocean, and are probably endowed with the means of sustaining life whilst sunk for long periods—if not for an indefinite time—at those depths; it is easy, therefore (supposing such to be the case) to understand that it may be quite opposed to the creature’s habits to appear at the surface at all; and that, when it does so, it will be—as, indeed, we have every reason to suppose—at very lengthened intervals; and then, probably, only in consequence of some unusually disturbing influence. The opportunities of seeing the reptile must necessarily, under such circumstances, be extremely few; and it is quite possible, or rather I should say, very likely, that many of its visits to the upper world have been entirely unwitnessed. In the present instance, for example, no eyes but ours were witnesses of the scene which so lately took place; and had we been but a dozen miles from the spot, it would have passed unnoticed even by us. And my observation of mankind, Bob, has led me to the conclusion that the race are extremely sceptical as to the existence of everything but what is well known.” “Very true, Harry, my lad,” returned Bob; “you reels it all off just like a book, and therein you shows the advantages of larning. I knows by my own feelin’s how difficult ’tis to believe a thing a man don’t understand. But it seems to me, ‘to return to the practical’—as I’ve heard the poor old skipper say—that we might as well haul up on our course ag’in now; and I’ll go and look after the dinner; for I shall be afraid to go to sleep ag’in for the next fortnight; that blamed old sarpent ’ll ha’nt me like a nightmare now, if I so much as shut my eyes for five minutes.” The sheets were flattened in, and the little craft’s jaunty bowsprit once more pointed southward; whilst Bob dived below, and in a few minutes more a thin wreath of smoke issuing from the galley-funnel betrayed his whereabouts and his occupation. Suddenly he reappeared at the companion, and with a serious countenance remarked: “I say, Harry, lad, I s’pose there’s no chance of that devil,”—with a jerk of the thumb in the direction of our weather-quarter—“getting a sniff of our dinner, and making sail in chase, is there?” I assured him that, in my belief, there was a strong probability that the serpent was, at that moment, perhaps miles deep in the ocean, banqueting royally on the dead whale; and, seeing the reasonableness of this supposition, he retired, satisfied. Nothing further occurred that day to disturb us. We continued to bowl away to the southward; and as we kept our canvas a good rap full, the little barkie tripped along a good honest nine knots every hour. The weather was as fine as we could possibly wish, with every appearance of being thoroughly settled; and there seemed to be a good promise of our making an exceptionally rapid passage. It was my eight hours out that night; and when Bob relieved me at midnight the sky was as clear as a bell; and, though there was no moon, the stars were shining brilliantly, and with that mellow lustre so peculiar to the tropics. Bob declared he was glad to be on deck again, for he had been tormented, all his watch below, by “that villainous sarpent;” visions of which so disturbed his restless slumbers that it was a real comfort to have the craft to look after, and something to occupy his mind. I anticipated no such disturbing influence myself; for though I candidly confess I was awfully frightened at the moment, the effect had passed away almost with the disappearance of the monster; and the cool freshness of the night breeze had induced a feeling of drowsiness, particularly welcome to a man about to retire to his hammock. In less than five minutes I was fast asleep. When I awoke, which I did without being called, I was surprised to find the sun streaming down through the skylight; and still more so when I observed that we seemed to have gone about during the night. The Water Lily was now certainly on the starboard tack; whereas, when I turned in, we were on the port tack. “It can’t be a change of wind, here in the heart of the trades,” thought I. “What can Bob be about? and why has he allowed me to overrun my watch? Surely the old fellow was not afraid to come below and turn in? Hallo! Bob ahoy! what’s wrong on deck?” shouted I, springing out of my hammock. Just as I did so, I heard the mainsail fluttering, as though the boat had luffed into the wind; and at the same moment I caught sight, through the companion-way, of the vacant tiller swinging about. “Gone forward to shift the jib,” thought I; and I jumped on deck to lend a hand. Bob was nowhere to be seen. “Good heavens!” exclaimed I, “what dreadful thing has happened?” I thought of the sea-serpent for one moment, but dismissed the idea the next, as being both too horrible and too unlikely. The creature could hardly have approached without giving Bob the alarm, which I knew he would have instantly communicated to me. At that moment my eyes fell upon the main-boom, and I missed the life-buoy which we kept suspended from it in readiness for any sudden emergency. Bob then had gone overboard, taking the life-buoy with him, and that too upon an impulse so sudden that there had been no time or opportunity to arouse me. The Lily was indeed hove-to, as I had observed when I first awoke; but it was with both jib and fore-sheet to windward. The probability was then that, on Bob quitting the helm, she had flown up into the wind until her head sails were taken aback, when she would, of course, or most probably, pay off on the opposite tack, and remain hove-to. This must necessarily have happened at least four hours ago (it was now eight o’clock), because, had Bob been on deck at eight bells, he would, of course, have called me. And during all this time the boat had been sailing away from him, not very rapidly it is true, being hove-to, but probably at a rate of at least three knots an hour. What might not have happened to the poor fellow in that time? He was a splendid swimmer, I knew, having acquired the art on our last voyage, and well able to take care of himself in the water; and there was very little sea on. Besides, I felt pretty certain he had the life-buoy; and, with its assistance, I knew he could keep himself afloat in such weather until worn out with exhaustion from want of food. But there were other perils than that of drowning; and, if attacked by a shark, what chance had he? These thoughts flashed through my mind whilst busily employed in taking the necessary steps to return in search of him, for I had no idea of continuing the voyage without making such a search; indeed, it would have been impossible. And my chances of success were not so meagre as might at first sight be supposed. In the first place, knowing how difficult it would be to see such an object as a life-buoy, even with a man in it, at any great distance, from so low an elevation as our deck, I had taken the precaution to have each buoy fitted with a contrivance for hoisting a signal. This consisted of a small bundle of jointed rods, which could be put together like a fishing-rod, and on the topmost of these was a white flag two feet square. On the buoy itself was firmly lashed a step similar to the “bucket” (I believe it is called) in which a carriage-whip is placed when not in use by the driver. The rods, taken to pieces, were securely lashed in a compact bundle to the buoy, and the bucket was a fixture. Thus, if Bob had the life-buoy, he also had the means of indicating his whereabouts, and that, too, at a considerable distance. And I knew pretty nearly in what direction I ought to steer, in order to take the most effectual means of finding him. Whilst hove-to, the Lily’s course or drift was, on the whole, as nearly as possible at right angles to the direction of the wind. It only remained then to turn her round and keep the wind directly abeam, and I should be going back pretty nearly over the same ground I had been traversing since Bob went overboard. Accordingly, I lost no time in getting the Lily round, when I once more hove her to, and went aloft to the cross-trees with my glass to see if the white flag were visible. A long and anxious scrutiny followed, but without any discovery. I did not feel any very great disappointment at this, for I thought it very probable I was too far away to discover so small an object, even with the aid of my glass. Once satisfied that it was nowhere to be seen, I quickly descended to the deck, trimmed the sheets flowing, and away the little craft bounded over the bright flashing sea. I stood on for an hour exactly, when I once more hauled the fore-sheet to windward, and went aloft with my glass again. My first look was ahead, first with the naked eye, and then with the glass; but not a speck could I discern to break the monotony of the blue-grey of the sea, except an occasional curling foam-crest. I next carefully swept the ocean from forward round to windward, thinking I might have run too far off the wind. Once or twice I thought I detected a flickering of something white, but it instantly disappeared again; and I was obliged to believe it was only the foam of a breaking wave. I was about to descend once more to the deck, when it occurred to me to take a glance to leeward. I once more levelled my glass, and swept it over the surface of the sea; but again I could see nothing. I reluctantly closed it, slung it over my shoulder, and swung myself off the cross-trees to go down by the mast-hoops, when my eye was arrested for a moment by what I knew at once to be the flag. Almost as I caught sight of it, I lost it again; and as the craft was constantly falling off or coming up again into the wind, I hardly knew exactly in what point to look for it. However, I regained my position upon the cross-trees, levelling my glass, rather inconveniently, on the fore side of the topmast, to clear the topsail, and presently I caught it again. Yes, there it was, sure enough, about three miles dead to leeward; and what was more, I could not only see the flag, but also the buoy, and Bob in it. He seemed to be waving his arms about in a most frantic manner, and making a tremendous splashing, doubtless, I thought, with the view of making his position more apparent, as, of course, he could see the cutter, and knew I must be looking for him. I slipped down on deck, quick as lightning, triced up the main tack just high enough to enable me to see under the foot of the sail, and squared dead away before the wind. Ten minutes afterwards I caught a glimpse of the flag right ahead, as the boat rose on a sea; and then I edged away, taking room to run up alongside him on the port tack with my head-sheets to windward. I could now see Bob away on the port bow, every time the Lily rose on the top of a wave, and he was still, to my great surprise, splashing away furiously; and now I caught the sound of his voice, shouting. “Surely,” thought I, “the poor fellow has not become insane through the dreadful strain to which his nerves have been subjected!” A minute later the cause of his strange behaviour became apparent. A dark object of triangular shape appeared, moving in narrow circles round the spot where poor Bob was floating, disappearing at frequent intervals, and then the splashing became more frantically vigorous than ever. It was a shark that was thus blockading Bob, and the splashing was resorted to, to frighten the creature from attacking him. I carefully measured my distance, and exactly at the right moment jammed my helm hard down, hauling in the main-sheet as I did so. The Lily shot into the wind, just clearing the buoy by a hair’s-breadth. I sprang to the rigging, stooped down, and seized Bob’s extended hand with mine as he came alongside, and then, exerting all the strength I could command, I fairly jerked him out of the water upon deck, just as the shark had apparently made up his mind to be no longer denied. With such impetuosity did he make his rush, that his snout rose a good two feet fairly above our gunwale; and had not the impetus with which I jerked Bob out of the water been sufficient to fetch him clear inboard, the shark would have had him after all. As it was, we got a glance into his open jaws, and at his six rows of teeth, the remembrance of which makes me shudder to this day. As the shark disappeared with a savage whisk of the tail, poor Bob turned to me; his lips quivered convulsively for a moment in an effort to speak, and then he fell to the deck in a dead faint. Two or three buckets of water dashed in his face, and a glass of neat brandy, however, soon restored him, and it was almost pitiful to listen to the poor fellow’s heartfelt and reiterated expressions of gratitude for his rescue. “Ever since about half an hour after sunrise was that incarnate devil alongside of me,” exclaimed he; “and hadn’t it been for my seeing the cutter’s sails, and knowin’ as you was on the look-out for me, I must have give in. Human natur’ couldn’t hold out ag’in’ that sort of thing for long. And now, I feel that weak and done up, that a child might pitch me overboard ag’in, if he was so minded, I do believe.” The life-buoy came aboard again with Bob; so I unshipped the signal-staff and took it to pieces, made it up in a bundle once more, stopped it to the buoy, and slung the buoy itself in its old position on the boom. The cutter was still hove-to, and I allowed her to remain so, whilst I went forward to see to the breakfast, Bob meanwhile changing his wet clothes for dry ones, and hanging the former in the rigging to dry. I was still busy over the cookery, when Bob came into the forecastle, and observed: “I say, Harry, there’s that spiteful devil still alongside, and with a most onchristian longing to make a breakfast off of your old shipmate, I’ll go bail! Couldn’t we contrive somehow to put a stopper on his tormentin’ purpensities?” “Ay, ay, Bob, old man!” replied I; “I think we may manage to do that without much difficulty. You get one of the air-guns out of the beckets, whilst I look after this coffee—it’s just on the boil—and we’ll try the virtues of cold lead upon his constitution, and the powers of the gun at the same time.” As soon as I could leave the coffee, I got a piece of pork out of our small harness cask, and lashed it to a piece of line, whilst Bob, under my directions, charged the gun. This done, the pork was hung just outside the taffrail, and full in the shark’s view, but not in the water; and I lay down on deck with the gun ready for my gentleman, should he make a rush. This, however, he seemed indisposed to do; eyeing the bait longingly, but keeping at a respectful distance. Gradually this distance shortened, however, and he finally ventured close under the boat’s stern, and within about three feet of the pork. I kept the gun levelled at him, aiming at his eye; and now, having him so close, and so directly under me, I thought there was little fear of the bullet being diverted from its proper direction by the water, so I fired. The lead sped true; the blood spirted from the creature’s eye, and with a tremendous spring he threw himself backward, only to roll over on his back with a convulsive writhe or two ere he floated motionless and dead. “So much for bullyin’ honest seamen when they has the misfortin’ to walk overboard,” observed Bob, eyeing the carcase with much complacency. “I shall feel more comfortable like, now I knows as your cruise is over for good and all.” “Walk overboard, Bob!” exclaimed I. “You surely do not mean to say you walked overboard?” “’Twas little else, my lad. But I’ll tell ye all about it whilst we’re getting our breakfast stowed under hatches; for I’ll be bound you’re longing to hear the rights of the story.” “That indeed I am, old fellow; so come along below, and let us get the yarn and our breakfasts at once; I am longing for both.” Having taken a look all round, to see that nothing was in sight, we went below and seated ourselves at the cabin-table, and Bob forthwith proceeded with his story. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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