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

Such were the thoughts that passed hastily through the mind of Ben Brace, and were communicated to his companions.

Were the five missing men still aboard the boat?

They might be lying down along the bottom, – though it was not likely they could be asleep? That appeared almost impossible, considering the shouts and screams which the captain at intervals still continued to send forth.

“By de great gorramity!” muttered Snowball, “a doan’t b’lieb one ob dem’s leff ’board dat boat, ’ceptin de ole ’kipper himseff; an ob him dar am nuffin leff cep’n de body. Dat man’s intlek am clar gone. He am ravin’ mad!”

“You’re right, Snowy,” assented the sailor; “there be ne’er a one there but himself. At all events they ain’t all there. I can tell by the way the gig sits up out o’ the water. No boat o’ her size, wi’ six men aboard, could have her gunnel as high as that ere. No! If there be any besides the captain, there’s only one or two. We needn’t fear to go as nigh as we like. Let’s put about, an’ board the craft, anyhow. What say ye?”

“Haben’t de leas’ objecshun, Massa Brace, so long you link dar no fear. Dis chile ready take de chance. If dar be any odder cep’n de ’kipper, it no like dey am ’trong ’nuff to bully we nohow. De two ob us be equal match fo’ any four ob dem, – say nuffin ob lilly Will’m.”

“I feel a’most sartin,” rejoined the sailor, still undecided, “there be only him. If that’s the case, our best way is to close up, and take possession o’ the boat. We may have some trouble wi’ him if be’s gone mad; an’ from the way he be runnin’ on, it do look like it. Never mind! I dare say we’ll be able to manage him. Port about, an’ let a see the thing through.”

Snowball was at the steering-oar, and, thus commanded by her captain, he once more headed the Catamaran in the direction of the drifting boat, – while the sailor and William betook them to the oars.

Whether the occupant of the gig had yet perceived the raft was not certain. It is likely he had not, since the yells and incoherent speeches to which he had been giving utterance appeared to be addressed to no one, but were more like – what they believed them to be – the wild ravings of a lunatic.

It was still only the grey twilight of morning, with a slight fog upon the water; and although through this the Catamarans had recognised the gig and captain of the Pandora they had done so with certain souvenirs to guide them. Both the boat and its occupant had been seen only indistinctly: and it was possible that the latter had not seen them, and was still unsuspicious of their presence.

As they drew nearer, the light at each moment increasing in brightness, there was no longer any uncertainty as to their being seen; for, along with the yells uttered by the occupant of the gig, could be heard the significant speeches of, “Sail ho! Ship ahoy! What ship’s that? Heave to, and be – Heave to, you infernal lubbers! if you don’t I’ll sink you!”

The manner in which these varied phrases were jumbled together, intermingled with screeching exclamations, as well as the excited and grotesque gestures that accompanied them, might have been ludicrous, but for the painful impression it produced.

There was no longer any doubt in the minds of those who witnessed his behaviour, that the ex-skipper of the Pandora was mad. None but a madman would have spoken, or acted, as he was doing.

In the state he was in, it would be dangerous to go near him. This was evident to the occupants of the raft; and when they had arrived within a half-cable’s length of the boat, they suspended the stroke of the oars, – with the intention of entering upon a parley, and seeing how far their words might tranquillise him.

“Captain!” cried the sailor, hailing his former commander in a friendly tone of voice: “it’s me! Don’t you know me? It’s Ben Brace, one o’ the old Pandora. We’ve been on this bit o’ raft ever since the burnin’ o’ the bark. Myself and Snowball – ”

At this moment the sailor’s epitomised narrative was interrupted by a fiendish yell, proceeding from the throat of the maniac. They were now near enough to have a clear view of his face, and could note the expression of his features. The play of these, and the wild rolling of his eyes, confirmed them in their belief as to his insanity. There could be no doubt about it; but if there had, what soon after succeeded was proof sufficient to satisfy them.

During the continuance of the discourse addressed to him by the sailor, he had kept silent, until the word “Snowball” fell upon his ears. Then all at once he became terribly excited, – as was testified by a terrible shriek, a twitching contortion of his features, and a glaring in his eyes that was awful to behold.

“Snowball!” screamed he; “Snowball, you say, do you? Snowball, the infernal dog! Show him to me! Ach! Blood and furies! it was he that fired my ship. Where is he? Let me at him! Let me lay my hands upon his black throat! I’ll teach the sneaking nigger how to carry a candle that’ll light him into the next world. Snowball! Where, – where is he?”

At this moment his rolling orbs became suddenly steadied; and all could see that his gaze was fixed upon the Coromantee with a sort of desperate identification.

Snowball might have quailed under that glance, had there been time for him to take heed of it. But there was not: for upon the instant it was given the madman uttered another wild screech, and, rising into the air, sprang several feet over the gunwale of the gig.

For a second or two he was lost to sight under the water. Then, rising to the surface, he was seen swimming with vigorous sweep towards the Catamaran.

Chapter Ninety One.

The insane Swimmer

A dozen strokes would have carried him up to the craft; which they could not have hindered him from boarding, except by using some deadly violence. To avoid this, the oars were plied; and the raft rapidly pulled in a contrary direction.

For all this, so swiftly did the maniac make way through the water, that it was just as much as they could do to keep the Catamaran clear of his grasp; and it was only after Ben Brace and Snowball had got fairly bent to their oars, that they could insure themselves against being overtaken. Then became it a chase in which there was no great advantage in speed between the pursued and the pursuer; though what little there might have been was in favour of the former.

How long this singular chase might have continued, it is impossible to say. Perhaps until the lunatic had exhausted his insane strength, and sunk into the sea: since he appeared to have no idea of making an attempt to return to the boat. He never looked round to see how far he was leaving it behind him. On the contrary, he swam straight on, his eyes steadfastly fixed upon the one object that seemed to have possession of his soul, – the Coromantee! That it was of him only he was thinking could be told from his speech, – for even while in the water he continued to utter imprecations on the head of the negro, – his name being every moment mentioned in terms of menace.

The chase could not have lasted much longer, – even had it been permitted to terminate by the exhaustion of the insane swimmer. The supernatural strength of insanity could not forever sustain him; and in due time he would have sunk helplessly to the bottom of the sea.

But this was not the sort of death that Fate had designed for him. A still more violent ending of his life was in store for the unfortunate wretch. Though he himself knew it not, those aboard the Catamaran had now become aware of its approach.

Behind him, – scarce half a cable’s length, – two creatures were seen moving through the water. Horrible-looking creatures they were: for they were hammer-headed sharks! Both were conspicuously seen: for they had risen to the surface, and were swimming with their dark dorsal fins protruded above, and set with all the triangular sharpness of staysails. Although they had not been observed before by those on the Catamaran, they appeared to have been swimming in the proximity of the gig, – on which, beyond doubt, they had been for some time attending.

They were now advancing side by side, in the same direction as the swimmer, and there could be no doubt as to their design. They were evidently in chase of him, with as much eagerness as he was in chase of the Catamaran.

The wretched man neither saw nor thought of them. Even had he seen them it is questionable whether he would have made any attempt to escape from them. They would, in all likelihood, have appeared a part of the fearful phantasmagoria already filling his brain.

In any case he could not have eluded those earnest and eager pursuers, – unless by the intervention of those upon the raft; and even had these wished to succour him, it would have required a most prompt and adroit interference. They did wish it, even became desirous to save him. Their hearts melted within them as they saw the unfortunate man, maniac though he was, in such a situation. Fear him as they might, – and deem him an enemy as they did, – still was he a human being, – one of their own kind, – and their natural instinct of hostility towards those ravenous monsters of the deep had now obliterated that which they might have felt for him about to become their prey.

Risking everything from the encounter which they might expect with a madman, they suspended their oars, and then commenced backing towards him. Even Snowball exerted himself to bring the Catamaran within saving distance of the wretch who, in his insane hatred, was threatening his own destruction.

Their good intentions, however, proved of no avail. The man was destined to destruction. Before they could get near enough to make any effective demonstration in his favour, the sharks had closed upon him. They who would have saved him saw it, and ceased their exertions to become spectators of the tragical catastrophe.

It was a brief affair. The monsters swam up, one on each side of their intended victim, till their uncouth bodies were parallel with his. He saw one of them first, and, with an instinct more true than his dethroned powers of reason, swerved out of the way to avoid it. The effort resulted in placing him within reach of the other, that, suddenly turning upon its side, grasped him between its extended jaws.

The shriek that followed appeared to proceed from only the half of his body; for the other half, completely dissevered, had been already carried off between the terrible teeth of the zygaena.

There was but one cry. There was not time for another, even had there been strength. Before it could have been uttered, the remaining moiety of the madman’s body was seized by the second shark, and borne down into the voiceless abysm of the ocean!

Chapter Ninety Two.

Boarding the Boat

Back to the boat! In the minds of the Catamaran’s crew naturally did this resolve succeed to the spectacle they had just witnessed. There was nothing to stay them on that spot. The bloodstained water, which momentarily marked the scene of the tragedy, had no further interest for those who had been spectators to it; and once more heading their craft for the drifting gig, they made way towards it as fast as their oars and the sail, now reset, would carry them.

They no longer speculated as to the boat being occupied by a crew, – either sleeping or awake. In view of the events that had occurred, it was scarce possible that anyone, in either condition, could be aboard of her. She must have been abandoned, before that hour, by all but the solitary individual standing amidships, and pouring out his insane utterances to the ears of the ocean.

Where were the men that were missing? This was the question that occupied the crew of the Catamaran, – as they advanced towards the deserted gig – and to which they could give no satisfactory answer.

They could only shape conjectures, – none of which had much air of probability.

From what they knew or suspected to have occurred upon the large raft they could draw inferences of a revolting nature. It might be that the same course had been pursued among those in the gig; and yet it seemed scarce probable. It was known that the latter had gone off from the burning bark, if not sufficiently provided for a long voyage, at least with a stock of both food and water that should have sustained them for many days. Little William had been a witness of their departure, and could confirm these facts. Why then had their boat-voyage resulted so disastrously? It could not have arisen from want. It could not have been the gale.

In all probability, had the sea washed over them, the boat would either have been swamped or capsized. The captain alone could not have righted her. Besides, why should he be the only survivor of the six?

But there had not been storm enough for a disaster of this kind; and unless by some dire mismanagement, the men could not have fallen overboard.

Still puzzled to account for the strange condition of things, the crew of the Catamaran continued to pull towards the gig, and at length came up with it.

There they beheld a horrid spectacle, though it afforded no clue to what had occurred. In fact it left the affair as inexplicable as ever. What they saw gave them reason to believe that some terrible tragedy had transpired on board the boat; and that not the elements, but the hand of man, had caused the disappearance of the crew.

Along the bottom timbers lay stretched a human form. It was not only lifeless, but disfigured by many wounds, – anyone of which would have proved mortal. The face was gashed in the most frightful manner; and the skull crushed in several places, as if by repeated blows of a heavy hammer, while numerous wounds, that had been inflicted by some sharp-bladed weapon or implement, appeared over the breast and body.

This mutilated shape of humanity was lying half submerged in the bilge-water contained in the boat, and which looked more like blood. So deep was it in colour, and in such quantity, that it was difficult to believe it could have been stained by the blood of only that one body, to which in turn, as the red fluid went washing over it, had been imparted the same sanguinary hue.