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

The crew of the latter beheld the proximity with despair. They saw the black waves, with white curling crests, coming on behind. They saw the sky becoming overcast above their heads; but it appeared only to scowl upon them, – as if to make darker the dread doom that was now threatening so near.

“Shiver my timbers!” cried the sailor, alluding to that too tardy wind, “it will be too late to save us!”

“Too late!” echoed the voice of Le Gros from the big raft, his white teeth, as they shone through his black beard, imparting to him a ferocity of aspect that was hideous to behold. “Too late, you say, Monsieur Brace. For what, may I ask? Not too late for us to get a drink out of your water-cask. Ha! ha! ha!”

“You son of a sea-cook!” he continued, addressing himself to the negro; “why don’t you hold your oars? Sacré-Dieu! what’s the use, you ugly nigger? Don’t you see we’ll board you in six seconds more? Drop your oars, I say, and save time. If you don’t, we’ll skin you alive when we’ve got our flippers upon you.”

“Nebba, Massa Grow!” defiantly retorted Snowball? “you nebba ’kin dis nigga ’live. He go die ’fore you do dat. He got him knife yet. By golly! me kill more than one ob you ’fore gib in. So hab a care, Massa Grow! You lay hand on ole Snowy, you cotch de tarnel goss.”

To this threat of resistance the Frenchman did not vouchsafe reply: for the rafts were now so near to each other that his attention became engrossed by something that left no time for further speech.

He saw that the Catamaran was within reach of his boat-hook, and, leaning forwards with the long shaft extended, he struck its grappling-iron into her stern timber.

For a second or two there was a struggle, which would have ended in the two rafts being brought in contact with one another but for an adroit stroke given by the oar of the English sailor. This not only detached the boat-hook from its grip, but also from the grasp of Le Gros, and sent the implement shivering through the air.

At the same instant of time the Frenchman, losing his balance, was seen to stagger, and then sink suddenly downwards; not into a prostrate position, but perpendicularly, – as if his legs had penetrated between the timbers of the raft.

This was exactly what had occurred: for as soon as the spectators in both crafts could recover from their surprise, they saw only so much of Monsieur Le Gros as lay between his armpits and the crown of his head, – his limbs and the lower half of his body being concealed between the planks that prevented him from sinking wholly into the water.

Perhaps it would have been better for him had he made a complete plunge of it. At all events, a bold “header” could not have had for him a more unfortunate ending. Scarce had he sunk between the timber when a wild shriek came forth from his throat, – accompanied by a pallor of countenance, and a contortion of his features, that proclaimed something more than a mere “start” received by suddenly sinking waist-deep into the sea.

One of his comrades, – the confederate ruffian already spoken of, – rushed forward to raise him out of the trap, – from which he was evidently unable to extricate himself.

The man caught hold of him by the arms, and was dragging him up; when, all at once, he was seen to let go, and start back with a cry of horror!

This singular conduct was explained on looking at the object from which he had made such a precipitate retreat. It was no longer Le Gros, nor even Le Gros’s body; but only the upper half of it, cut off by the abdomen, as clean as if it had been severed by a pair of gigantic shears!

“A shark!” cried a voice, which only gave utterance to the thought that sprung up simultaneously in the minds of all, – both the occupants of the big raft, and the crew of the Catamaran.

Thus deplorably terminated the life of a sinful man; who certainly merited punishment, and, perhaps deserved no better fate.

Chapter Eighty Seven.

An unlooked-for Deliverance

A spectacle so unexpected, – but, above all, of such a horrid nature, – could not fail to produce a powerful impression upon those who were witnesses to it. It even caused a change of proceedings on the part of the pursuers, – almost a suspension of the pursuit, – and on that of the pursued some relaxation in their efforts to escape. Both parties appeared for some seconds as if spellbound, and the oars on both rafts were for a while held “apeak.”

This pause in the action was in favour of the Catamaran, whose sailing qualities were superior to those of her pursuer. Her crew, moreover, less caring for what had happened to Monsieur Le Gros, were the first to recover from their surprise; and before the comrades of the half-eaten Frenchman thought of continuing the chase, they had forced ahead several lengths of their craft from the dangerous contiguity so near being established between them.

The ruffian crew – now castaways – of the Pandora had been awed by the strange incident, – so much so as to believe, for a time, that something more than chance had interfered to bring it about. They were not all friends of the unfortunate man, who had succumbed to such a singular fate. The inquest that had been interrupted was still fresh in their minds, and many of them believed that the inquiry – had it proceeded to a just termination – would have resulted in proving the guilt of Le Gros, and proclaiming him the murderer of O’Gorman.

Under this belief, there were many aboard the big raft that would not have cared to continue the chase any further, had it merely been to avenge the death of their late leader. With them, as with the others, there was a different motive for doing so, – a far more powerful incentive, – and that was the thirst which tortured all, and the belief that the escaping craft carried the means to relieve it.

The moiety of their mutilated chief, lying along the planks of the raft, engaged their thoughts only for a very short while; and was altogether forgotten, when the cry of “Water!” once more rising in their midst, urged them to resume the pursuit.

Once more did they betake themselves to their oars, – once more did they exert their utmost strength, – but with far less effect than before. They were still stimulated by the torture of thirst; but they no longer acted with that unanimity which secures success. The head that had hitherto guided them with those imperious eyes – now glaring ghastly from the extremity of the severed trunk – was no longer of authority among them; and they acted in that undecided and irregular manner always certain to result in defeat.

Perhaps, had things continued as they were, they might have made up for the lost opportunity; and, in time, have overtaken the fugitives on the Catamaran; but during that excited interval a change had come over the surface of the sea, which influenced the fate both of pursuers and pursued.

The dark line, first narrowly observed by the crew of the Catamaran upon the distant verge of the horizon, was no longer a mere streak of shadowed water. It had developed during the continuance of the chase, and now covered both sea and sky, – the latter with black cumbrous clouds, the former with quick curling waves, that lashed the water-casks supporting both rafts, and proclaimed the approach, if not of a storm, at least a fresh breeze, – likely to change the character of the chase hitherto kept up between them.

And very quickly came that change to pass. By the time that the castaways on the great raft had once more headed their clumsy embarkation to the pursuit, they saw the more trim craft, – by her builders yclept the Catamaran– with her sails spread widely to the wind, gliding rapidly out of their reach, and “walking the water like a thing of life.”

They no longer continued the pursuit. They might have done so, but for the waves that now, swelling up around the raft, admonished them of a danger hitherto unknown. With the spray rushing over them, and the sea, at each fresh assault, threatening to engulf their ill-governed craft, they found sufficient employment for their remaining strength, in clinging to the timbers of their rude embarkation.

Chapter Eighty Eight.

A threatened Storm

Thus, once more, were the Catamarans delivered from a terrible danger, – almost literally “from the jaws of death”; and once more, too, by what appeared a providential interference.

Ben Brace actually believed it so. It would have been difficult for anyone to have thought otherwise; but the moral mind of the sailor had of late undergone some very serious transformations; and the perils through which they had been passing, – with their repeated deliverances, all apparently due to some unseen hand, – had imbued him with a belief that the Almighty must be everywhere, – even in the midst of the illimitable ocean.

It was this faith that had sustained him through the many trials through which they had gone; and that, in the very latest and last, – when the ruffians upon the raft were fast closing upon the Catamaran, – had led him to give encouraging counsels to Snowball to keep on. It had encouraged him, in fine, to strike the boat-hook from the grasp of Le Gros, – which act had ended by putting their implacable enemy hors du combat, and conducting to their final deliverance.

It was this belief that still hindered the brave mariner, – now that the sea began to surge around them, and the spray to dash over the deck of their frail craft, – hindered him from giving way to a new despair; and from supposing that they had been only delivered from one danger to be overwhelmed by another.

For some time did it seem as if this was to be their fate, – as if, literally, they were to be overwhelmed. The breeze which had so opportunely carried the Catamaran beyond the reach of the pursuing raft, soon freshened into a gale; and threatened to continue increasing to that still more dreaded condition of the ocean atmosphere, – a storm.

The rafts were no longer in sight of each other. Scarce five minutes had elapsed, after being grappled by Le Gros, when the breeze had caught hold of the Catamaran; and, from her superior sailing qualities, she had soon become separated from the more clumsy embarkation of the enemy.

In another hour, the Catamaran, under good steering, had swept several miles to westward; while the raft, no longer propelled by oars, and its rudder but ill-directed, had gone drifting about: as if they who occupied it were making only a despairing effort to keep it before the wind.

Despite the rising gale and the increasing roughness of the water, there were no despairing people upon the Catamaran. Supported by his faith in providential protection, Ben Brace acted as if there was no danger; and encouraged his companions to do the same.

Every precaution was adopted to provide against accidents. As soon as they saw that the pursuer was left behind, – and they were no longer in any peril from that quarter, – the sail was lowered upon the mast, as there was too great a breadth of it for the constantly freshening breeze. It was not taken in altogether, but only “shortened,” – reefed in a rude fashion, – so as to expose only half its surface to the wind; and this proved just sufficient to keep the Catamaran “trim” and steady upon her course.

It would not be correct to say that her captain and crew felt no fears for her safety. On the contrary, they experienced the apprehensions natural to such a situation; and for this reason did they take every precaution against the danger that threatened. The Coromantee might have given way to a feeling of fatalism, – peculiar to his country and class, – but there was no danger of Ben Brace doing so. Notwithstanding his faith about being protected by Providence, the sailor also believed, that self-action is required on the part of those who stand in need of such protection; and that nothing should be left undone to deserve it.

The situation was altogether new to them. It was the first thing in the shape of a storm, or even a gale, they had encountered since the construction of their curious craft. Ever since the burning of the Pandora, they had been highly favoured in this respect. They had been navigating their various embarkations through a “summer sea,” in the midst of the tropical ocean, – where ofttimes whole weeks elapse without either winds or waves occurring to disturb its tranquillity, – a sea, in short, where the “calm” is more dreaded than the “storm.” Up to this time they had not experienced any violent commotion of the atmosphere, – nothing stronger than what is termed a “fresh breeze,” and in that the Catamaran had proved herself an accomplished sailer.

It was now to be seen how she would behave under a gale that might end in a storm, – perhaps a terrific tempest.

It would be untrue to say that her crew looked forward to the event without fear. They did not. As said, they suffered considerable apprehension; and would have felt it more keenly, but for the cheering influence of that faith with which her captain was sustained, and which he endeavoured to impart to his companions.

Leaning upon this, they looked with less dread upon the sky lowering above and the storm gathering around them.

As the day advanced the wind continued to freshen until about the hour of noon. It was then blowing a brisk gale. Fortunately for the crew of the Catamaran, it did not become a storm. Had it done so their frail craft must have been shivered, and her component parts once more scattered over the ocean.

It was just as much as her crew could accomplish to keep them together, in a sea only moderately rough, – compared with what it would have been in a storm. This they discovered during the afternoon of that day; and it was no great comfort to them to reflect that, in the event of a real storm being encountered, the Catamaran would undoubtedly go to pieces. They could only console themselves with the hope that such an event might not arise until they should reach land, or, which was perhaps more probable, be picked up by a ship.

The chances of terminating their perilous voyage in either way were so slight and distant, that they scarce gave thought to them. When they did, it was only to be reminded of the extreme hopelessness of their situation, and yield to despairing reflections. On that particular day they had no time to speculate upon such remote probabilities as the ultimate ending of their voyage. They found occupation enough, – both for their minds and bodies, – in insuring its continuance. Not only had they to watch every wave as it came rolling upon them, – and keep the Catamaran trimly set to receive it, – but they had to look to the timbers of the craft, and see that the lashings did not get loose.

Several times did the sea break quite over them; and but that Lilly Lalee and little William were fast tied to the foot of the mast, they would both have been washed off, and probably lost amidst the dark waste of waters.

It was just as much as the two strong men could do to keep aboard and even they had ropes knotted round their wrists and attached to the timbers of the raft, – in case of their getting carried overboard.

Once a huge billow swept over, submerging them several feet under the sea. At this crisis all four thought that their last hour had come, and for some seconds were under the belief that they were going to the bottom, and would never more look upon the light of day.