The Ocean Waifs: A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea

Had it been the demon of the mist that gave utterance to these speeches, they could not have produced a more fearful effect upon those who heard them from the back of the cachalot. The accent, along with that profane shibboleth, might have proceeded from anyone who spoke the language of France; but the tone of the voice could not be mistaken. It had too often rung in their ears with a disagreeable emphasis. “Massa Le Grow, dat am,” muttered the negro. “Anybody tell dat.”

Snowball’s companions made no reply. None was required. Other voices rose up out of the mist.

“A dead man!” shouted a second. “Sure enough. Who is it?”

“It’s the Irishman!” proclaimed a third. “See! He’s been killed! There’s a knife sticking between his ribs! He’s been murdered!”

“That’s his own knife,” suggested some one. “I know it; because it once belonged to me. If you look you’ll find his name on the haft. He graved it there the very day he bought it from me.”

There was an interval of silence, as if they had paused to confirm the suggestion of the last speaker.

“You’re right,” said one, resuming the informal inquest. “There’s his name, sure enough, —Larry O’Gorman.”

“He’s killed himself!” suggested a voice not hitherto heard. “He’s committed suicide!”

“I don’t wonder at his doing so,” said another, confirmingly. “He expected to have to die anyhow; and I suppose he thought the sooner it was off his mind the better it would be for him.”

“How’s that?” inquired a fresh speaker, who appeared to dissent from the opinions of those that had preceded him. “Why should he expect to die any more than the rest of us?”

“You forget, mate, that the fight was not finished between him and Monsieur Le Gros?”

“No, I don’t forget it. Well?”

“Well, yourself!”

“It don’t follow he was to be the next to die, – not as I can see. Look at this, comrades! There’s been foul play here! The Irishman’s been stabbed with his own knife. That’s plain enough; but it is not so sure he did it himself, Why should he? I say again, there’s been foul play?”

“And who do you accuse of foul play?”

“I don’t accuse anyone. Let them bring the charge, as have seen something. Somebody must know how this came about. There’s been a murder. Can anyone tell who did it?”

There was a pause of silence of more than a minute in duration. No one made answer. If anyone knew who was the murderer, they failed to proclaim it.

“Look here, mates!” put in one, whose sharp voice sounded like the cry of a hyena, “I’m hungry as a starved shark. Suppose we suspend this inquest, till we’ve had breakfast. After that we can settle who’s done the deed, – if there’s been anyone, except the man himself. What say ye all?”

The horrid proposal was not replied to by anyone. The loud shout that succeeded it sprang from a different cause; and the words that were afterwards uttered had no reference to the topic under consideration.

“A light! a light!” came the cry, vociferated by several voices.

“It’s the light we saw last night. It’s the galley-fire! There’s a ship within a hundred yards of us!”

“Ship ahoy! ship ahoy!”

“Ship ahoy! what ship’s that?”

“Why the devil don’t you answer our hail?”

“To the oars, men! to the oars. Sacré-dieu! The lubbers must be asleep. Ship ahoy! ship ahoy!”

There was no mistaking the signification of these speeches. The sailor and Snowball exchanged glances of despair. Both had already looked behind them. There, blazing fiercely up, was the fire of spermaceti, with the shark-steaks browning in its flame. In the excitement of the moment they had forgotten all about it. Its light, gleaming through the fog, had betrayed their presence to those upon the raft; and the order issued to take to the oars, with the confused plashing that quickly followed, told the Catamarans that the big raft was about to bear down upon them!

Chapter Eighty Three.

Slipping the Cable

“Dar coming on!” muttered Snowball. “Wha’ we better do, Massa Brace? Ef we stay hya dey detroy us fo’ sartin.”

“Stay here!” exclaimed the sailor, who no longer spoke in whispers, since such would no longer avail. “Anything but that. Quick, Snowy, – quick, Will’m! Back down to the deck o’ our craft. Let’s make all speed, and cast off from the karkiss o’ the whale. There be time enough yet; and then it’ll be, who’s got the heels. Don’t be so bad skeeart, Snowy. The ole Catamaran be a trim craft. I built her myself, wi’ your help, nigger; an’ I’ve got faith in her speed. We’ll outsail ’em yet.”

“Dat we will, Massa Brace,” assented Snowball, as, close following the sailor, he glided down the rope on to the deck of the Catamaran, where little William had already arrived.

It was the work of only a few minutes to cut the tiny cable by which the little embarkation had been attached to the fin of the cachalot, and push the craft clear of its moorings.

But, short as was the time, during its continuance the sun had produced a wonderful change in that oceanic panorama.

The floating fog, absorbed by his fervid rays, had almost disappeared from the deep, or at all events had become so dissipated that the different objects composing that strange tableau in the proximity of the dead cachalot could all be seen by a single coup d’oeil; and were also in sight of one another.

There was the huge carcass itself, looming like a great black rock above the surface of the sea. Just parting from its side was the little Catamaran, with its sail set, and its crew, – consisting of two men and a boy, – the little Portuguese girl appearing as a passenger, – the two men energetically bending to the oars while the boy held hold of the rudder.

Scarce a hundred yards astern was the larger embarkation, – supporting its score of dark forms, – some seated, and straining at the oars, – some steering, – others attending to the sail; and one or two standing by the head, shouting directions to the rest, – all apparently in wonder at the tableau thus suddenly disclosed, and uncertain what to make of it, or what course to pursue!

The occupants of the great raft were infinitely more astonished than those of the Catamaran. On the part of the latter there was no longer any astonishment. On recognising the voices taking part in that ceremonious inquest they had comprehended all. The surprise they had at first felt was now changed into terror.

The men on the raft were still under the influence of astonishment; and no wonder. The apparition that had so suddenly loomed up before their eyes, – at first obscurely seen through the fog, but gradually becoming more distinct, – was enough to cause any amount of surprise. Such a grouping of strange objects in such a situation! The huge carcass of a whale, – a fire upon its back, with bright flames blazing upward, – a crane over the fire with the curious flitches suspended from it, – a raft, in some respects resembling their own, supported by empty casks, and carrying a sail, with four human beings seen upon its deck, – all these formed a series of phenomena, or facts, that was enough to have excited the surprise of the most indifferent observers. Some of the men were even speechless with wonder, and so continued for a time, while others gave vent to their astonishment in loud shouts and excited gesticulations.

That first order issued by Le Gros – for it was his voice that had been heard giving it – had no other object than to cause a rapid movement towards the dark mass, or rather the beacon seen blazing upon its summit. The order had been instantly obeyed; for there was an instinctive apprehension on the part of all that, as before, the light might again vanish from their view.

As they drew nearer, however, and the fog continued to disperse, they obtained a fairer view. Their surprise was not much diminished, though their comprehension of the objects before them became rapidly clearer.

The retreat of the Catamarans – for the movements of the latter proclaimed this design – was of itself suggestive; and, perhaps, more than aught else, enabled those from whom they were retreating to comprehend the situation.

At first they could not even conjecture who they were that occupied the little raft. They saw four human beings upon it; but the mist was still thick enough to hinder them from having a clear view of either their forms, faces, or features. Through the filmy atmosphere to recognise them was impossible. Had there been but two, and had the embarkation that carried them been a mere platform of planks, they might have shaped a conjecture. They remembered that upon such a structure Ben Brace and the boy had given them the slip; and it might be them. But who were the two others? And whence came the six water-casks, the sail, and other paraphernalia seen upon the escaping craft?

They did not stay to waste time in conjectures. It was enough for them to perceive that the four individuals thus seen were trying to get out of their reach. This was prima facie proof that they had something worth carrying along with them; perhaps water!

Some one made use of the word. It was like proclaiming a reprieve to a wretch upon the scaffold about to be launched into eternity. It caused such excitement in the minds of the motley crew – all of them suffering from extreme thirst – that, without further hesitancy, they bent eagerly to their oars, – putting forth the utmost effort of their strength in chase of the Catamaran.

Chapter Eighty Four.

Chapter Lxxxiv

The Chase.

Half pulling, half trusting to the sail, in a few seconds they were alongside the carcass of the cachalot. They saw what it was and divined how it came to be there; though still puzzled by the pyrotechnic display exhibited on its summit.

As they passed under the shadow of the huge mass some proposed that they should stay by it, – alleging that it would furnish food for all; but this proposal was rejected by the majority.

“Pardieu!” exclaimed the directing voice of Le Gros; “we have food a plenty. It’s drink we want now. There’s no water upon the whale; and there must be some in possession of these runaways, whoever they be. Let us first follow them! If we overhaul them, we can come back. If not, we can return all the same!”