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<h3>Chapter Eight.</h3> <h4>Bob’s Dream.</h4> “You’ll maybe remember,” commenced Bob, “that when I came upon deck last night to take my watch, I mentioned that I was glad enough to be out of my hammock, and away from the tormentin’ dreams I’d had of that — sarpent! “Well, and I was too—I felt better and calmer like the minute I set foot upon the deck; and, as soon as you was gone below, I makes myself comfortable in the chair,” (a low deck-chair in which we used frequently to sit whilst steering), “takes the tiller-rope in my hand, sets the little craft’s course by a star, and starts thinking how pleased the skipper will be when he sees his son and his old mate turning up some fine morning at the anchorage which, I doubt not, lies just under his parlour window. “I got thinking and thinking, until it seemed to me as I could see the ‘old man’ as plain as I can see you now, coming down between the trees, with his hand held out, and his face all smiling and joyful like, and I steps forward to give him a hearty shake of the fin, when all of a suddent he changes into that infarnal old sarpent, and at me he comes, with his eyes glaring, and his jaws wide open. “You may take your oath, Harry, I warn’t long in stays. Round I comes like a top, and away I scuds dead afore the wind; and he—the sarpent, I mean—arter me. It seemed to me as the faster I tried to run, the less headway I made; and presently he was close aboard of me. “There was a great rock just ahead of me; and I makes a tremenjous jump to get behind it, when whack goes my head ag’in’ the main boom with that force it fairly stunned me, and afore I could recover myself I lost my balance, and overboard I goes. “I felt myself going, and flung out my hands to save myself naterally, and by that means I managed to get hold of the becket of the life-buoy, which in course broke adrift from the boom, and came overboard with me. “Well, I didn’t seem to know where I was or what I was doin’ for a minute or two; and then the cold water revived me. I slips my arm through the buoy, and takes a look round for the cutter. “I must have run her pretty nigh dead off the wind in my sleep, for I could see her almost straight to leeward of me, still standin’ on, but comin’ slowly to the wind. “She was a good quarter of a mile away from me, and I thinks as how I might still have a chance of fetching her ag’in, if she gets to luffing into the wind, and losing her way, so I strikes out a’ter her. “But, Lord bless ye! Harry, you’ve no idea how the little hussy slips along, until you comes to be overboard, swimming in her wake. “It seemed to me as though she’d never come to, and all the while she was walking away to the tune of a good seven knots. “At last, when I rose on the top of a sea, I sees as she was in stays; and ‘All right,’ thinks I, ‘Harry’s come on deck and missed me, and he’s comin’ back a’ter me.’ But I soon saw as she’d run into the wind, and hove herself to, and that most likely you was still fast asleep in your hammock. “I next tried to cut her off by swimming in the direction that she was heading, but after about half an hour’s hard tusslin’ I knowed it was no use; she fore-reached upon me as if I was at anchor. So I give the job up, and lay-to in the buoy for a rest, for I’d put out all my strength in chase, and was pretty nigh done up. “I knowed you’d miss me some time in the morning, and that you’d miss the buoy too, and I felt sartain that you’d come back to look me up, so I sets to work to get my signal-pole on end and the flag flyin’, all ready for daylight. “I watched the little barkie fairly out of sight, and then I began to feel lonesome like, and I’ll own that most oncomfortable thoughts came into my head about the sea-sarpent; but, strange as you may think it, I never give a thought to the sharks. “I thought as day were never going to break ag’in; but at last I sees it light up a bit away to the east’ard, and it got grad’ally brighter and brighter; and presently I sees the sun just showin’ above the horizon. “Then I felt a little bit more cheerful and satisfied like, for I knowed you’d soon be stirring, and I should have you back on the look-out for me. “Of course I gave a good look all round as soon as there was light enough to see properly; but there warn’t so much as a gull in sight, and away to the nor’ard, and east’ard where I knowed you was, the sun dazzled my eyes so’s I couldn’t see. “Well, ’twas just as I’d caught a glimpse, as I thought, of the peak of the Lily’s gaff-topsail, that I sees, about fifty fathom away, the fin of that shark scullin’ quietly along. I kept pretty still, you may swear, hoping he’d pass me. But—not he. Down goes his helm, and he takes a sheer my way, and I thought it was all up with me. “He ranged up alongside as quiet as you please, hows’ever, and just dodged round and round me, off and on, as if he didn’t quite know what I was made of. “I expect it was the flutterin’ of the flag overhead as he didn’t understand; but, any way, he kept very quiet and peaceable for a good long spell, and I was beginnin’ to hope he wouldn’t have no truck with me. And, to cheer me up still more, I sees the little Lily coming back to look for her chief-mate. “If you’ll believe me, Harry, I’m of opinion that devil saw you comin’ as well as myself, and that he knowed he’d have to make up his mind pretty soon, or lose me altogether, for he began to swim round me now tolerable smart, and presently he makes a dive. “I’d made up my mind what to do as soon as he took to that game; and I starts splashing hands and legs all I knowed, and shouting too, like fury; and presently he comes up again. “Well, the chap kept me that busy, I hadn’t a minute to spare; and when you ranged up alongside I was that tired out I didn’t know how to make another splash.” “So much for going to sleep in your watch on deck, Master Bob,” said I, as the mate brought his yarn to a conclusion. “Ay! more shame to me that I should ever have done such a thing,” replied he, greatly crestfallen; “but I lay the blame of the whole consarn, from beginnin’ to end, on that — sarpent, though no amount of sarpents will excuse a man fallin’ asleep in his watch, more especially when he has charge of the deck.” “Well,” said I, “you have been pretty well punished for your fault, old man, at all events. But ‘all’s well that ends well;’ and I am heartily glad that you are so well out of the scrape. And now, I shall insist on your going to your hammock for the rest of the day, and I’ll take care of the craft. In fact, she will almost steer herself in this weather, so I shall manage very well indeed. Only don’t have any more dreams which will cause you to jump overboard, please, for I really cannot afford to lose you.” The poor old fellow was so exhausted that, though he protested against the proposed arrangement, I could see he was glad enough to avail himself of it; and after a feeble attempt at remonstrance, he yielded to my persuasions, and turned in, and was quickly in a sound refreshing sleep. Nothing further of importance occurred for several days to break the monotony of the voyage. We continued to make good way to the southward, and ten days after crossing the line we lost the south-east trade-winds, and ran into a light southerly breeze. As we still had a very fair quantity of water on board, and indulged in good hopes of getting rain enough, shortly, to fill our tank up, without the necessity of putting in anywhere, and as the chances were very great that, as we got farther to the southward, we should meet with westerly winds, I determined to stand to the southward and westward, close-hauled, of course, on the port tack, so that should the wind come from the westward, as we expected, we should be in a good weatherly position; whilst, if we were disappointed in the matter of rain, we should have the land close aboard, and could run in and fill up. The southerly wind lasted us a couple of days, and then veered gradually round to about south-west. As this broke us off considerably from our course, we hove the cutter about, and were then able to lie about south-and-by-east, a good rap full. The wind now freshened considerably, and we had it stronger than at any time since leaving England, except in the gale in the Bay of Biscay, so that we were reduced to double-reefed mainsail, reefed foresail, and number three jib. Under this canvas the little Lily made very excellent weather of it, though the incessant showers of spray which she threw over herself necessitated the constant use of our macintoshes whilst on deck, and this we found extremely inconvenient, from their warmth. However, as we had been wonderfully favoured in the matter of weather so far, we had no right to grumble if we were now treated to a few of the inconveniences of such a voyage as ours. Though still making very good way, we were not getting on so fast as we had been, our low canvas, and the heavy sea (for a craft of our size) which began to get up, not permitting us to do more than our seven knots. Still, this was remarkably good work, and we ought to have been perfectly satisfied; but the little barkie had stepped out at such a rattling pace all the earlier part of the voyage, that we could not be contented with any reduction in speed. This lasted for five days, and then, about one p.m., the wind suddenly dropped altogether, and left us tumbling helplessly about without even steerage-way. The sky had gradually become overcast, and the air suffocatingly close, and when I went below to look at the aneroid, I found it had gone back considerably. This might mean only a thunderstorm, or it might mean something much worse, so we set to work to prepare for whatever might come. The mainsail was stowed and the cover put on, the foresail hauled down and unbent, and the trysail bent, reefed, and stowed, to be set or not, as circumstances might require. As it turned out, it was only a thunderstorm, but it was a regular tropical one whilst it lasted. The rain came down in sheets, without a breath of wind; and we not only filled our tank, but also every available cask, can, and empty bottle we had on board, and as this was done long before the rain was over (though the thunderstorm soon passed off), Bob and I stripped, and enjoyed to our heart’s content the unwonted luxury of a wash from head to foot in the most deliciously soft water, after which we roused out our dirty clothes, and had a regular good washing-day. The rain lasted about three hours, and then cleared away as rapidly as it had come on, leaving the air beautifully fresh and pure, the sea beaten down until nothing but a long, lazy swell remained of the late breeze, and ourselves refreshed beyond description by our soap and water bath. The sun came out again, clear and strong, drying our washing in about half an hour, and to complete the good work, a nice, steady wind from the north-east sprang up, and sent us bowling merrily along upon our course once more, with all our flying-kites aloft to woo the welcome breeze, the glass beginning to rise again immediately the thunderstorm was over. Two nights after this, the wind still holding favourable, though rather fresher, so that our spars had as much as they could do, notwithstanding our preventer backstays, to bear the strain of our enormous spinnaker and balloon gaff-topsail, and the little Water Lily flying along at—as our patent log told us—over thirteen knots, we dashed past a half-consumed hencoop, a few charred pieces of planking, and some half-burnt spars, all of which had the appearance of having been but a short time in the water. The spars were those of a ship of about a thousand tons; and we came to the conclusion that it was one of those melancholy cases in which the good ship, after perhaps successfully battling with a hundred storms, is made to succumb at last to that terrible foe to seamen, a fire, ignited by the merest and apparently most trivial of accidents. But the reader will see, further on, that we had but too good reason to alter this opinion. We passed this wreckage about the middle of the second dog-watch, while Bob and I were discussing the propriety of shortening sail somewhat for the night; but as the breeze seemed disposed to grow lighter rather than otherwise, we decided to let everything stand for the present. When Bob called me at midnight, however, the wind had hauled so far round from the eastward that it became necessary to shift the spinnaker to the bowsprit-end; and this we accordingly did. The wind had fallen much lighter while I was below, it continued to drop all my watch, and when I turned out next morning there was barely enough of it to fan us along at about three knots. As the sun rose higher it died away altogether, and it was as much as we could do, through the day, to keep the cutter’s head in the right direction. This would have been wearisome work in the tropics; but we had been out of them for some days, and were getting well to the southward, and the air began to feel quite fresh and chilly at night; so much so, indeed, that for the last night or two Bob and I had found our thick pilot jackets a very great comfort. At last, by the time that tea was ready, the Lily was “boxing the compass,” having lost steerage-way altogether; so, as our big sails were no use, we took them in and stowed them away, not knowing from whence or how strong the breeze might next come. We took a good look all round at the weather, and then left the Lily to take care of herself, whilst we went below to our evening meal. This over, we both went on deck again to smoke our pipes, and have a chat until eight bells. It may be thought that two men situated as we were would soon exhaust all available topics of conversation; but this was by no means the case. Bob, though he had no education but that pertaining to his profession, was a profound thinker, and he often amused and sometimes startled me by the originality of his remarks. He had knocked about the world a good deal, and had the knack of not only a quick observation, but also of being able to clearly and accurately recall what he had seen, and the impressions thereby produced upon himself. He was expatiating, on this occasion, on the charms of nature, of which he was an enthusiastic admirer, the subject having been suggested by the beauty of the sunset which we had both been watching, and I was thoroughly enjoying the rugged eloquence with which the scene had inspired him, when we were startled by a long, low, wailing cry which rang out upon the still air, apparently not half a dozen fathoms from us, making our blood curdle and our hair stiffen with horror at its unearthly and thrilling cadence. We looked earnestly and eagerly in the direction from which the cry had seemed to proceed, but nothing was visible in that or, indeed, in any other direction. The sun had set, and the grey of evening was deepening over the glassy surface of the water; but there was still light enough reflected from the sky to have enabled us to see any object within sight almost as distinctly as in broad day, but not an object of any description could we see, not even a solitary albatross. We had carefully scanned, as far as was possible, the entire visible surface of the ocean, and had turned inquiringly towards each other, when once more rang out that mysterious cry, this time apparently close under our stern. We turned, unutterably horror-stricken, in that direction, but there was nothing. Seamen are, as a rule, as brave as lions; but anything mysterious and unaccountable completely cows them, and such, I confess, was now the case with us. The cry was too sharp and loud to have proceeded from any distance; and there was no visible explanation of it. It was not repeated a third time, I am happy to say; and I wish never to hear anything like it again. What it was, or whence it came, we never knew, and I was, and am to this day, utterly unable to account for it. I have since been informed that such sounds have occasionally been heard at sea by others as well as ourselves, but never with the result of any discovery as to their origin. During the next three days we had nothing but light variable winds, and calms. On the morning of the fourth day, at daybreak, we made a sail directly ahead. At this time we had a nice little breeze, and were going about six knots. As we neared her, we noticed that she was hove-to, her courses brailed up, and her topgallant yards on the caps. When close to her, it struck us that something must be the matter on board, for not a soul could we see about her decks. The vessel herself too—a full-rigged ship of about fourteen hundred tons—struck us as being unusually deep in the water. There being no sea on, we decided to run alongside and board her, thinking she might possibly prove derelict. We did so, accordingly, rounding-to under her stern, and ranging up alongside on her lee quarter; having first, however, taken in our gaff-topsail and lowered our topmast, so as not to foul her rigging. As we came gently alongside, an exclamation escaped Bob, who was standing forward, ready to heave a line on board or jump up the side with it, according to circumstances. “There’s been some cursed foul play here, by the look of it, Harry,” exclaimed he. Good heavens! what a sight met our horrified gaze as we leaped down upon the ship’s deck! Some three or four and twenty corpses lay there, with the blood still slowly oozing in a few instances from wounds in various parts of their bodies. The wounds were mostly inflicted by cutlasses and pistol-shots; but two of the bodies, apparently those of officers, had the heads almost severed from the trunks, the gashes having been evidently inflicted by a keener weapon than a ship’s cutlass. These bodies had the arms lashed tightly behind the back. Too horror-stricken to speak a word, I walked aft, Bob following me, and entered the cabin, which was on deck, and from which I thought I heard a groan issuing. On entering, the first object I saw was the body of a young man, about four-and-twenty years of age, lying close across the doorway, and covered with wounds. His left arm was almost completely cut through; a long gash had laid his forehead open from above the right temple to the left eyebrow; a pistol-bullet had entered his forehead nearly fair between the eyes; and blood had evidently flowed copiously from his right breast. This body lay across three others, dressed in the usual attire of seamen. On a sofa, which stretched entirely across the after-part of the cabin, lay the body of a young girl; and lastly, under the cabin-table, lay another body, from which, whilst we stood gazing in speechless horror at these evidences of diabolical atrocity, a faint groan issued. Bob assisted me to draw the sufferer from under the table; and we then saw that he was an old man, grey-haired, and dressed in fine blue cloth garnished with gilt buttons, and a strip of gold lace round the cuffs of the jacket; no doubt the master of the vessel. The cabin had, notwithstanding the ghastly appearance it presented, been the scene of a wild carouse, for the table was covered with glasses and wine and spirit bottles, and broken bottles and glasses littered the floor. I searched among the contents of the table until I found a bottle only partly empty, and from this I poured out a glass of its contents, which proved to be port, and managed with considerable difficulty to get a small quantity of the wine down the wounded man’s throat. The skylight was open, and the air, coming down through it in a cool gentle breeze, assisted the wine in restoring him to consciousness. He opened his eyes, and gazed round him vacantly for a moment or so, and then memory returned, and he burst violently into tears. We soothed him as well as we could, assuring him that we were friends, and that we would not leave him; and in a minute or two he recovered strength and composure enough to speak. “Thank you, gentlemen, thank you,” said he, “but my time here is very short, and your well-meant efforts for my relief are not only useless, but they also increase my suffering. You are, I presume, from some ship which has come up with us since those fiends left. Kindly prop me up a little higher on the sofa, gentlemen, if you please, and I will endeavour to tell you what has happened before I pass away.” We did so; and as we were making his position as easy as we could for him, his eye fell upon the body of the young girl, and once more his tears burst forth, mingled with prayers for her, and the most bitter curses upon her destroyers. He raised one hand to his face as though to brush his tears away, and we then noticed for the first time—horror upon horror!—that his fingers had all been cut, or rather hacked out, at the knuckle-joints, the wounds still slowly bleeding. He saw our looks of compassion, and said, as if in reply: “Ah, gentlemen, willingly would I have submitted to be torn limb from limb by the demons, had they but spared my poor Rose—my darling, my only daughter.” After another short pause, he began: “It was about midnight, last night, that we noticed a sail ahead of us, which was duly reported. There was not very much wind at the time, and she did not near us until about six bells. As she closed with us, her movements became so suspicious that I ordered the arm-chest on deck, called all hands, and served out the pistols and cutlasses to them. “Our suspicions were very shortly confirmed, for when she was within a cable’s length of us she sheered suddenly alongside, and about fifty men leaped from her on to our deck. Our poor fellows gave them a warm reception; but they were all quickly cut down, and in about three minutes the pirates had the ship. They immediately began to plunder her, and a band of the most ruffianly of them, headed by their captain, made for the cabin. Seeing that all was lost, my son—his body lies at the door there—and I rushed in here, to make a desperate stand in defence of my daughter. “The poor fellow killed three of them, whilst I severely wounded others; but he was shot down, and I fell, exhausted with the wounds I had already received. My poor girl was soon discovered and dragged from her berth. “The chief then questioned me as to our cargo, where we were from, and so on; and believing that treasure was concealed somewhere in the ship, he mutilated me thus,” holding up his fingerless hands, “to force me to reveal its hiding-place. We had none, but he would not be convinced; and when my daughter also denied the existence of any treasure on board, the villain deliberately shot her before my eyes! “They then ransacked the cabin, turned out the lockers, and drank and sang, until the mate, I suppose, of the pirate came in and reported that everything of value was transferred to the brig; when the leader—whom I once or twice heard addressed as Johnson,”—Bob and I started and looked at each other expressively—“ordered the ship to be scuttled, and for all hands but those employed on the work to return to the brig. They then left the cabin; and, about half an hour afterwards, I believe, they left the ship. She cannot—float ver—very much—longer; but I shall—shall be—gone before—” His voice had been gradually growing weaker and weaker as he approached the end of his narrative, and now failed altogether. I tore open the front of his shirt to ascertain if his heart still beat, and now saw that he had received, in addition to other wounds, a shot through the chest. There was no blood; but he no doubt bled internally. I could detect not the faintest flutter of the heart, so we laid him gently down on the sofa. As we did so, a small stream of blood trickled out of his mouth, he sighed heavily, and his jaw dropped. Seeing that he was dead, we left the cabin, and stepped out once more into the bright sunshine. We noticed that, even during the short time we had been on board, the vessel had settled considerably in the water. It was evidently quite time we were off; but we first went all round the deck, examining carefully each body, to see if any one exhibited the least sign of life; but all were utterly beyond the reach of our help. We accordingly cast off, and returned on board the Water Lily, making all the sail we could, to get as speedily as possible away from the scene of such diabolical atrocities. We were about four miles distant from the ship, when we observed her roll once or twice slowly and heavily; her stern rose, and, her bows disappearing beneath the water, she gradually became almost perpendicular, when she paused for a moment and then sank gently out of sight. The moment that Johnson’s name was mentioned, the same idea flashed into both our minds; that this was the same man, and probably the same ship, of which we had so lately heard. The captain spoke of the pirate vessel as a brig; and we felt no manner of doubt that she was the Albatross. So, then, these men,—the men who had showed such base treachery to my father,—were still at large, and in full prosecution of their villainous designs. And not only so, but they were in the same quarter of the globe as ourselves, and manifestly at no very great distance. We felt no difficulty whatever now in attaching a very different and much more sinister significance to the charred fragments of wreck we had lately passed. Our little craft would of course be but a poor prize to these rascals; but since they seemed so to luxuriate in cruelty, it behoved us to give them as wide a berth as possible. The presence of this craft, and that, too, in our immediate vicinity, was a source of the greatest anxiety to us; so much so, that we took in our gaff-topsail, and housed our topmast, to show but a low spread of canvas; and one or other of us remained posted at the mast-head all day, on the look-out, so as, if possible, to sight her before being seen ourselves, should it happen that we were both proceeding in the same direction, or on such courses as would bring us together. We maintained this ceaseless watch for the pirate-brig for four days, when, judging from the experience we had already obtained of our sailing powers in fine weather as compared with those of other vessels that we had fallen in with, we came to the conclusion that all immediate danger of a rencontre with her was past; and we accordingly relaxed our vigilance, and allowed ourselves some rest, which, by this time, we greatly needed. About noon on the seventh day after boarding the ship scuttled by the pirates (the name of which I forgot to mention was the Massachusetts, of New York), land appeared ahead. It was the Falkland group of barren and desolate islands in the vicinity of Cape Horn. As we had been expecting, the wind now drew round from the westward, fresh, though not so much so as to prevent our showing a jib-headed gaff-topsail to it. Under this sail the little Water Lily made most excellent way; going a good eight knots through the water, close-hauled, and against a very respectable head-sea. As the day drew on, the wind freshened; and, though we carried on as long as we dared, wishing to get round the dreaded Cape as quickly as possible, we were obliged at sunset to take our topsail in, in order to save our topmast. By breakfast-time next morning it became necessary to further reduce our canvas, and we accordingly took down a reef in our mainsail. The question now arose whether it would be better to go round outside of everything, or to attempt the Straits of Magellan. We hove the little craft to, and went below and carefully examined the chart; discussing, as we did so, the comparative advantages and disadvantages of the two routes. Bob had experience of both; and he seemed to feel that in the present state of the weather, and with the wind as it was, we were likely to make a quicker passage by going on to the southward, and passing round the Horn. I was of the same opinion, by no means liking the intricacies of the navigation of the Straits, or the violent tides which our sailing directions told us swept through them. We accordingly filled away again, carrying on, notwithstanding the still freshening breeze, until the little Water Lily seemed alternately to threaten diving to the bottom with us or taking flight altogether into the air. We were nearly blinded by the copious showers of spray which flew over us, and our mainsail was wet to its very peak; yet it was a real pleasure to see the ease and lightness with which the boat skimmed over the now formidable and angry sea. About four bells in the morning watch, we passed within three miles of the easternmost end of Staten Island. An hour later, the breeze freshened upon us so fiercely that we saw it would be dangerous to trifle with it any longer; so we hauled down our mainsail and stowed it; and bent and set the trysail in its place, single-reefed. This change proved a very great relief to the little craft, the sway and leverage of the heavy main-boom having made her plunge tremendously; whereas, now, she went along without shipping a drop of water beyond the spray which she of course still continued to throw over herself. It was whilst we were busy shifting our after canvas that the little Lily experienced perhaps one of the most narrow escapes of the whole voyage. We were too much occupied with our work to keep a very bright look-out; indeed, we considered that, beyond the state of the weather, there was nothing to demand our attention. We had just completed the bending of the trysail, when away to windward of us, not more than a quarter of a mile distant, we observed a large ship running down directly upon us before the wind, under topgallant stunsails. The Lily was almost stationary at the time; and the ship was heading as straight as she possibly could for us. How the trysail went up, it is impossible for me to say; we pulled like demons, and it seemed to rise instantaneously into its place, fully set. I sprang aft, and put the helm hard up, to gather way; and we had just begun to draw through the water, when the ship took a sheer as though to cross our bows. I kept the tiller jammed hard over, and eased away the trysail sheet, intending to wear, when the ship took another sheer directly towards us. She was now close aboard of us, and not a soul could I see on the look-out. Bob rushed aft, with his eye on the ship’s bowsprit, evidently prepared for a spring; whilst I shifted the tiller and flattened in the trysail sheet once more. That saved us. The cutter luffed just in time, and shot literally from beneath the ship’s bows. So close were we, that had the stranger been pitching instead of ’scending at the moment, her jib-boom-end must have passed through the peak of our trysail. It may seem to the uninitiated an easy matter to keep out of an approaching ship’s way, by simply observing the precise direction in which she is steering; but, as a matter of fact, a ship, when running before the wind, sails in anything but a straight line, sheering first one way and then another, and it is quite impossible for a spectator to judge with accuracy in which direction she will sheer at a given moment; hence the danger in which we so unexpectedly found ourselves. <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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