Читать книгу Dick Leslie's Luck - Harry Collingwood - Страница 6

When Leslie awoke the warm and mellow glow of the light that streamed in through the small scuttle in the ship’s side prepared him for the discovery that he had slept until late in the afternoon; and as he lay there reflecting upon the startling events of the previous twenty-four hours the sound of eight bells being struck on deck confirmed his surmise by conveying to him the information that it was just four o’clock. He raised himself in the bunk, striking his head smartly against the low deck-planking above him as he did so. He looked for his clothes where he had flung them off before turning in, but they were not there; casting his eyes about the little apartment, however, he presently recognised them hanging, dry, upon a hook screwed to the bulkhead. Thereupon he dropped out of the bunk, and proceeded forthwith to dress, noting, as he did so, by the slow, gentle oscillations of the brig, that the sea had gone down to practically nothing while he slept, while the occasional flutter and flap of canvas, heard quite distinctly where he was, told him that the wind had dropped to a calm.

Dressing quickly, he hurried on deck, wondering whether he would find Miss Trevor there. She was not; but the skipper and mate were both in evidence, standing, one on either side of the companion; neither of them speaking. The sky was cloudless; the wind had dropped to a dead calm; the surface of the sea was oil-smooth, but a low swell still undulated up from the south-east quarter. The ship had swung nearly east and west; and the sun’s beams, pouring in over the starboard quarter, bit fiercely, although the luminary was by this time declining well toward the horizon.

“Well, mister, had a good sleep?” inquired the skipper, with some attempt to infuse geniality into his voice.

“Excellent, thank you,” answered Leslie, as with a quick glance he swept the entire deck of the brig. “Miss Trevor is still in her cabin, I take it, as I do not see her on deck. She has had a most trying and exhausting experience, and I hope, sir, you will afford her all the comfort at your command; otherwise she may suffer a serious breakdown. Fortunately, I am not without funds; and I can make it quite worth your while to treat us both well during the short time that I hope will only elapse ere you have an opportunity to trans-ship us.”

“Is Miss Trevor any relation of yours?” asked Potter, his tone once more assuming a suggestion of aggressiveness.

“She is not, sir,” answered Leslie, showing some surprise at the question. “She was simply a fellow-passenger of mine on board the Golden Fleece; and it was by the merest accident that we became companions, after the ship went down. Had you any particular object in making the inquiry, may I ask?”

“Oh no,” answered Potter; “I just thought she might be related to you in some way; you seem to be pretty anxious about her welfare; that’s all.”

“And very naturally, I think, taking into consideration the fact that I have most assuredly saved her life,” retorted Leslie. “Having done so much, I feel it incumbent upon me to take her under my care and protection until I can find a means of putting her into the way of returning to England, or of resuming her voyage to Australia—whichever she may prefer.”

“Very kind and disinterested of you, I’m sure,” remarked Potter, sneeringly. “But if she’s no relation of yours there’s no call for you to worry any more about her; she’s aboard my ship, now; and I’ll look after her in future, and do whatever may be necessary. As for you, I’ll trans-ship you, the first chance I get; never fear.”

The fellow’s tone was so gratuitously offensive that Leslie determined to come to an understanding with him at once.

“Captain Potter,” he said, turning sharply upon the man, “your manner leads me to fear that the presence of Miss Trevor and myself on board your ship is disagreeable or inconvenient—or perhaps both—to you. If so, I can only say, on behalf of the young lady and myself, that we are very sorry; although our sorrow is not nearly profound enough to drive us over the side again; we shall remain aboard here until something else comes along to relieve you of our unwelcome presence; then we will go, let the craft be what she will, and bound where she may. And, meanwhile, so long as we are with you, I will pay you two pounds a day for our board and accommodation, which I think ought to compensate you adequately for any inconvenience or annoyance that we may cause you. And Miss Trevor will continue to be under my care; make no mistake about that!”

The offer of two pounds per diem for the board and lodging of two people produced an immediate soothing and mollifying effect upon the skipper’s curious temper; he made an obvious effort to infuse his rather truculent-looking features with an amiable expression, and replied, in tones of somewhat forced geniality—

“Oh, all right, mister; I’m not going to quarrel with you. You and the lady are quite welcome aboard here; and I’ll do what I can to make you both comfortable; though, with our limited accommodation, I don’t quite see, just at this minute, how it’s going to be done. The lady can have my cabin, and I’ll take Purchas’s; you, Purchas,” turning to the mate, “can have the steward’s berth, and he’ll have to go into the fo’c’s’le. That can be managed easy enough; the question is, Where are we going to put you, mister?”

“Leslie,” quickly interjected the individual addressed, who was already beginning to feel very tired of being called simply “mister.”

“Mr. Leslie—thank you,” ejaculated the skipper giving Leslie his name for the first time, in sheer confusion and astonishment at being so promptly pulled up. “As I was saying, the question is, Where can we put you? We haven’t a spare berth in the ship.”

“Pray do not distress yourself about that,” exclaimed Leslie; “any place will do for me. I am a sailor by profession, and have roughed it before to-day. The weather is quite warm; I can therefore turn in upon your cabin lockers at night if you can think of no better place in which to stow me.”

“Oh, the cabin lockers be—” began Potter; then he pulled himself up short. “No,” he resumed, “I couldn’t think of you sleeping on the lockers; they’re that hard and uncomfortable you’d never be able to get a bit of real rest on ’em; to say nothing of Purchas or me coming in, off and on, during the night to look at the clock, or the barometer, or what not, and disturbing you. Besides, you’d be in our way there. No, that won’t do; that won’t do at all. I’ll be shot if I can see any way out of it but to make you up a shakedown in the longboat. She’s got nothing in her except her own gear—which we can clear out. The jolly-boat is turned over on top of her, making a capital roof to your house, so that you’ll sleep dry and comfortable. Why, she’ll make a first-rate cabin for ye, and you’ll have her all to yourself. There’s some boards on the top of the galley that we can lay fore and aft on the boat’s thwarts, and there’s plenty of sails in the sail locker to make ye a bed. Why,” he exclaimed, in admiration of his own ingenuity, “when all’s done you’ll have the most comfortable cabin in the ship! Dashed if I wouldn’t take it myself if it wasn’t for the look it would have with the men. But that argument don’t apply to you, mister.”

“Leslie,” cut in the latter once more, detecting, as he believed, an attempt on the part of the skipper to revert to his original objectionable style of address.

“Yes, Leslie—thanks. I think I’ve got the hang of your name now,” returned Potter. “As I was saying, that argument don’t apply to you, seein’ that the men know how short of accommodation we are aft. Now, how d’ye think the longboat arrangement will suit ye?”

“Oh, I have no doubt it will do well enough,” answered Leslie, although, for some reason that he could not quite explain to himself, he felt that he would rather have been berthed below. “As you say, I shall at least have the place to myself; I can turn in and turn out when I like; and I shall disturb nobody, nor will anybody disturb me. Yes; the arrangement will do quite well. And many thanks to you for making it.”

“Well, that’s settled, then,” agreed the skipper, in tones of considerable satisfaction. “Mr. Purchas,” he continued, “let some of the hands turn-to at once to get those planks off the top of the galley and into the longboat, while others rouse a few of the oldest and softest of the sails out of the locker to make Mr—Mr. Leslie a good, comfortable bed. And, with regard to payment,” he continued, turning rather shamefacedly to Leslie, “business is business; and if you don’t mind we’ll have the matter down on paper, in black and white. If you were poor folks, now, or you an ordinary sailor-man,” he explained, “I wouldn’t charge either of ye a penny piece. But it’s easy to see that you’re a nob—a navy man, a regular brass-bounder, if I’m not mistaken—and as such you can well afford it; while, as for the lady, anybody with half an eye can see that she’s a regular tip-topper, thoroughbred, and all that, so she can afford it too; while I’m a poor man, and am likely to be to the end of my days.”

“Quite so,” assented Leslie. “There is not the least need for explanation or apology, I assure you. Neither Miss Trevor nor I will willingly be indebted to you for the smallest thing; nor shall we be, upon the terms that I have suggested. I shall feel perfectly easy in my mind upon that score, knowing as well as you do that we shall be paying most handsomely for the best that you can possibly give us. And now, at last, I hope we very clearly understand each other.”

So saying, he turned away and, walking forward to where Purchas was superintending the removal of the planks referred to by the skipper, he asked the mate if he could oblige him with the loan of a pipe and the gift of a little tobacco.

“Of course I can,” answered Purchas, cordially. “At least, I can give ye a pipe of a sort—a clay; I buys about six shillin’s worth every time I starts upon a voyage. I get ’em at a shop in the Commercial Road, at the rate of fifteen for a shillin’! I find it pays a lot better than buyin’ four briars at one-and-six apiece; for, you see, when you’ve lost or smashed four briars, why, they’re done for; but when you’ve lost or smashed four clays—and I find that they last a’most as long as briars—why, I’ve still a good stock of pipes to fall back upon. If a clay is good enough for ye, ye’re welcome to one, or a dozen if ye like.”

“Oh, thanks,” laughed Leslie; “one will be sufficient until I have lost or broken it; then, maybe, I will trespass upon your generosity to the extent of begging another.”

“Right you are,” said the mate, cordially. “I’ll slip down below and fetch ye one, and a cake o’ baccy. I’ll not be gone a moment.”

And away the man went, eager, as most British sailors are, to do a kindness to a fellow-sailor in distress. He speedily returned with a new short clay, and a cake of tobacco, which he handed to Leslie with the remark that he knew what it was to be without pipe or tobacco, and could therefore sympathise with him. Leslie was soon deep in the enjoyment of the first smoke that he had had for some eighteen hours; and while he was still at it he saw Miss Trevor emerge from the companion and gaze somewhat anxiously about her.

As she stepped out on deck, Potter, who had been leaning moodily over the quarter-deck rail, puffing away at a strong cigar, sprang upright and advanced eagerly toward her, with one hand held out, and his cap in the other. She returned his somewhat grotesque bow with a cold stateliness for which Leslie felt that he could have hugged her; and then, seeing that the man would not be denied, she allowed her hand to rest in his for just the barest fraction of a second. As Leslie approached, he heard Potter anxiously inquiring after her welfare, and doing the honours of his ship generally, with a ludicrous affectation of manner that amused him greatly, and even brought the ghost of a smile to the face of the girl.

Leslie made the polite inquiries demanded by the occasion, learning in return that Miss Trevor felt very much better for her long rest; and then he turned to the skipper, and said—

“Before going below I mentioned to your mate that some wreckage—apparently from the Golden Fleece—was floating at no great distance; and I left a message with him for you, suggesting that you should run down and examine it, upon the off-chance that there might be some people clinging to it. Did you do so?”

“I did not, sir,” answered Potter. “I’d have you know, in the first place, Mister—Leslie—if that’s your name—that I’m cap’n aboard my own ship, and take orders from nobody but my owners. In the next place, I took a good look at the wreckage through the glass, and saw that there was nobody on it; so, you see, there was no use in running the brig away off her course.”

“But, my good fellow—” remonstrated Leslie.

“Now, look here,” broke in Potter, “don’t you try to come the officer over me, and dictate to me what I shall do, or what I shan’t do; because I won’t have it. I satisfied myself that there was nobody upon that wreckage; and that’s enough.”

“I presume you have no objection to my satisfying myself also that there is nobody upon it?” returned Leslie, keeping his temper admirably in face of the other’s offensive manner. “If you will kindly lend me the ship’s glass, I will go up into the main-top and have a look for myself.”

“So you don’t trust me, eh?” sneered Potter. “Well, you’ll just have to, whether you like it or not. I refuse to let you use the ship’s glass; I forbid you to touch it; it’s the only glass aboard; and I’m not going to risk the loss of it by trusting it to a man who may clumsily drop it overboard for aught that I can tell.”

“Very well,” said Leslie; “if you choose to be uncivil and offensive, I cannot help it. At all events, I will take a look for myself.”

And, so saying, he sprang into the main rigging and danced up the ratlines at a pace that made the shellbacks on deck stare in wonderment.

“Come down out of my rigging, you; d’ye hear?” roared Potter. “Come down, I say. How dare you take such liberties aboard my ship? D’ye hear what I say?” as Leslie grasped the futtock shrouds and lightly drew himself over the rim of the top. “If you don’t come down at once I’ll send a couple of hands aloft to fetch ye.”

Taking not the slightest notice of the man’s ravings, Leslie stood, lightly grasping the topmast rigging in one hand while he shaded his eyes with the other, gazing intently away to the westward meanwhile. At first he could see nothing; but presently, being remarkably keen of sight, he caught what he was looking for, some three miles away. At this distance it was of course quite impossible to discern details with the unaided eye; but as he gazed the impression grew upon him of something moving there; the suggestion conveyed was that of a fluttering or waving movement, as though some one were endeavouring to attract the attention of those on board the brig. And the longer he gazed, the stronger grew the conviction that there really was some living thing upon that floating mass of wreckage. He stared at it until his eyes ached; and finally he hailed—

“On deck there! I am almost certain that you are mistaken in your supposition that there is no one on that wreckage. I cannot of course be absolutely sure without the glass; but with it, there could be no possibility of mistake. Captain Potter, I appeal to you, as one sailor to another; I appeal to your humanity; send me up the glass that I may set this question at rest. Surely you would not willingly or knowingly leave a fellow-creature to perish miserably, rather than take the trouble to investigate—”

“Will you come down out of that, or won’t you?” demanded Potter, angrily:

Then, seeing that Leslie was again gazing eagerly out across the glassy surface of the water, the skipper shouted—

“Bill and Tom, up with you both into the main-top and fetch that man down. If he won’t come peaceably, heave him down! I’m cap’n of this ship, and I don’t mean to allow anybody aboard her to disobey my orders. Now, hurry, you swabs; no skulking, or I’ll freshen your way for you with the end of this fore-brace.” And he threateningly threw a coil of stout rope off a belaying-pin by way of hastening the movements of the two men.

Looking down on deck, Leslie saw the seamen spring with some alacrity into the main rigging, and then continue their ascent with exaggerated deliberateness, mumbling to each other meanwhile. And as they did so, he saw Miss Trevor step quickly to Potter’s side and lay her hand upon his arm as she spoke to him—pleadingly, if he might judge by her whole attitude, and the low-toned accents of her voice. He saw Potter seize her hand and tuck it under his arm, patting it caressingly for an instant ere she snatched it away indignantly and walked from him to the other side of the deck; and then the heads of the two men, Bill and Tom, showed over the rim of the top.

“Better come down, sir,” said one of them. “The skipper ’ve got a very queer temper, as you may see, sir; and if you don’t come he’ll lay the blame on to us; and’ll think nothin’ of takin’ it out of us with a rope’s-end.”

“Come up here into the top, both of you,” commanded Leslie. “Never trouble about your skipper and his temper. I believe there is some one alive, on that wreckage away yonder, and I shall be glad to have your opinions upon the matter. Now,” as they joined him in the top, “there is the wreckage, about two points on the starboard quarter. Do you see it?”

“Ay, ay sir; I sees it, plain enough,” answered the man named Bill; while his companion, Tom, replied, “Yes; I can see something afloat out there, certingly; but I wouldn’t like to take it upon me to say what it is.”

“Very well,” said Leslie, turning to Bill; “you appear to have tolerably good eyes—”

“Main-top, there,” interrupted Potter, “are you coming down out of that, or aren’t you? If you’re not, say the word, and I’ll come up myself and start the lot of you.”

“For the Lord’s sake, sir, go down, I beg ye; or there’ll be something like murder up here in a brace of shakes, if the skipper keeps his word,” exclaimed Tom, in accents of consternation.

“Leave your skipper to me; I will undertake to keep him in order if he is ill-advised enough to come up here. Now,” he resumed, turning again to Bill, “you seem to have reasonably good eyes. Look carefully at that wreckage, and tell me whether you can see anything having the appearance of a man waving a shirt, or something of the kind.”

The man looked long and intently, gazing out under the sharp of his hand; and presently he turned to Leslie and said—

“Upon my word, sir, I do believe you’re right; there do seem to be something a wavin’ over there—”

The sharp crack of a pistol and the whistle of a ballet close past them interrupted the man’s speech; and, looking down, they saw Potter standing aft near the lashed wheel with a smoking revolver in his hand, which he still pointed threateningly at the top.

The two men, without another word, flung themselves simultaneously over the edge of the top and made their way precipitately down the rigging, while Leslie, swinging himself on to the topmast-backstay, slid lightly down it, reaching the deck some seconds ahead of them. He alighted close alongside Miss Trevor, who, with her hands clutched tightly together, stood, the image of terror, gazing with horrified eyes at the skipper.

In two bounds Leslie reached Potter’s side.

“You scoundrel! you infernal scoundrel!” he exclaimed, as with one hand he wrenched away the revolver, while with the other he seized the fellow by the throat and shook him savagely. “What do you mean by such infamous conduct? Do you realise that you might have killed one of us? Have you gone mad; or what is the matter with you? Answer me, quick, or I will choke the life out of you!”

And, with a final shake that went near to dislocating Potter’s neck, Leslie flung the fellow furiously from him, dashing him against the rail with such violence that, after staggering stupidly for a moment, he sank to the deck, sitting there in a dazed condition.

The mate and three or four of the crew came running aft at this juncture, with some indefinite idea of interfering; then paused, gazing uncertainly from one to the other, evidently undecided as to what action, if any, they ought to take. They looked at the mate; and the mate looked at Leslie.

“You had better take him below, and let him lie down for a while, Mr. Purchas,” said Leslie, assuming quite naturally the direction of affairs. “And when you have done so,” he continued, “I shall be obliged if you will kindly afford me the opportunity for a few minutes’ conversation.”

“All right,” answered the mate, “I will. Yes, that’ll be best; let’s take him below into my cabin. Lay hold here, Bill, and give me a hand to get the skipper down the companion ladder.”

With some difficulty they got Potter below and into the mate’s cabin, where they laid him in the bunk and, making him as comfortable as they could, left him to recover his scattered faculties. Meanwhile, Leslie, catching sight of the ship’s telescope hanging in beckets in the companion-way, took possession of it and, slipping the revolver into his jacket pocket, again ascended to the main-top; from which elevation, and with the aid of the telescope, he quickly satisfied himself that there certainly was at least one living person clinging to the wreckage and intermittently waving what looked like a strip of canvas, with the evident design of attracting the brig’s attention.

By the time that he had assured himself of this fact, Purchas had returned to the deck; seeing which, Leslie beckoned him up into the top.

“Look here, Purchas,” he said, as the mate scrambled over the rim and stood beside him, “I was right in my surmise, there is some living person, or persons, on that wreckage. Take the glass and satisfy yourself of the truth of my statement.”

The mate took the glass, and presently, removing the instrument from his eye, turned to Leslie.

“You are right, Mr. Leslie,” he said, “there is somebody there, I can see him wavin’ something. Now, the question is, what’s to be done? The sun’s pretty near settin’, and it’ll be dark in half an hour or thereabouts.”

“The more need that you should arrive at a prompt decision,” interrupted Leslie. “Now, if I may advise, what I would suggest is this. Let me have the quarter-boat and four hands. I will go down to the wreck and bring off anybody who may be upon it, and if it falls dark before we return, hoist a lantern to the peak, as a guide to us, and we shall then have no difficulty in finding the brig.”

The mate considered for a moment. Then—

“All right,” he said, “I’ll take upon myself the responsibility of agreein’ to that. The skipper’ll be madder than ever when he finds out what we’ve done; but I don’t care for that, I’m not goin’ to leave a feller-creature to die on no wreckage, if I can help it. And if the skipper makes a fuss about it, the authorities at home ’ll bear me out.”

“Of course they will,” assented Leslie. “And now that we have settled that point, the sooner a start is made the better. So please call for four volunteers to go with me in the boat, and I’ll be off.”

Then, while Purchas went forward to muster a boat’s crew, Leslie walked over to where Miss Trevor stood.

“Oh, Mr. Leslie,” she exclaimed, “what a dreadful man the captain of this ship is! Is he mad; or what is it that makes him behave in so horribly violent a manner?”

“Simply overweening conceit of himself, and an enormously exaggerated opinion of his own importance as master of this ridiculous little brig; together with, perhaps, an unusually violent and ungovernable temper, I imagine,” answered Leslie, with a smile. “I am afraid,” he continued, “that those mad antics of his with his revolver must have been rather terrifying to you. However, that sort of thing will not occur again—unless he happens to have another of them—for I have the weapon now, and intend to retain possession of it until we are able to take our leave of him, which I hope will be ere long. Meanwhile, I am going away in a boat, for about half an hour, to take a man—or, it may be, a woman—off that wreckage that we were trying to reach this morning when we sighted this brig. It is still quite close at hand, and I shall not be gone very long. And during my absence Purchas will look after you and see that you come to no harm. He is a good fellow, in his way, and will not allow our mad friend to interfere with you.”

“Thank you,” she answered, with a shade of the old hauteur in the tones of her voice; “I am not in the least afraid. Mad though the man may be, I do not think he will attempt to molest me.”

“No,” acknowledged Leslie, who had not failed to observe Potter’s undisguised admiration of the girl, “to be perfectly frank with you, I do not think he will. Ah, here come the men who are going with me in the boat. I must say au revoir!”

“Good-bye, for the present,” answered Miss Trevor; “I hope you will be successful.”

“Now then, lads,” said Leslie, as the men came aft and began to cast off the gripes, “we have no time to lose. The sun will set in another ten minutes, and then it will very soon be dark. We must look lively, or we shall not reach that wreckage without having a troublesome search for it. Ah, that is all right,” as he stood on the rail and looked into the boat, “I see that her gear is all in her, and that you have kept her tight by leaving some water in her. We may as well get rid of that water before we lower her.”

And so saying, he stepped into the little craft, and, pulling out the plug, allowed the water to run off.

“We are all ready for lowerin’, sir,” sang out one of the men, presently.

“Then lower at once,” answered Leslie, as he pushed back the plug into its place, “and then jump down into her as quickly as you like.”

In another moment the boat squelched gently into the water; the men tumbled over the brig’s low side into her and unhooked the tackle blocks; the man who was going to pull the bow oar raised it in his hands and with it bore the boat’s bow off the ship’s side; the other three men threw out their oars; and Leslie crying, “Give way, men,” as he grasped the yoke lines, the little craft started on her errand of mercy, heading straight for the wreckage, the bearings of which in relation to the fast setting sun, Leslie had very carefully taken just before the boat was lowered.

It was at this moment absolutely a flat calm; there was not the faintest breath of air stirring anywhere in the great dome of cloudless sky that overarched the brig; the swell had subsided until it was scarcely perceptible; and the whole surface of the sea gleamed like a polished mirror, faithfully reflecting the rich blue of the sky to the eastward—against which the commonplace little brig, illumined by the brilliant ruddy orange light of the setting sun, glowed like a gem of exquisite beauty—while away to the westward it repeated with equal fidelity the burning glories of the dying day.

The sun was just vanishing beneath the horizon when Leslie caught his first glimpse of the raft from the stern-sheets of the boat, in which he stood, instead of sitting, in order that he might extend his horizon as much as possible. For the next five minutes he was able to steer by the glow of the sunset in the sky; but by the end of this time the glow had faded to a tender grey, and the night descended upon them almost with the rapidity of a falling curtain. The western sky no longer afforded a beacon to steer by, and Leslie found himself obliged to turn round and steer backwards, as it were, by the brig. But in the fast gathering gloom she soon became too indefinite an object to be reliable, Leslie was therefore obliged to face about once more and select a star for his guidance.

The men had been pulling with a will for a full half-hour when suddenly the man who was wielding the bow oar arrested his movements, holding his dripping blade just clear of the surface of the water, as he cried—

“Hark! did ye hear that, sir?”

“What?” demanded Leslie.

The other three men suspended their efforts as the first man replied—

“Why, I thought I heard somebody singin’ out, somewheres. Ay, I was right,” he continued, as a faint “Hillo!” came pealing softly across the darkling surface of the water.

“Hillo!” answered Leslie, sending a stentorian shout ahead through his hollow hands.

“Boat ahoy!” came the answering shout.

“Give way briskly, men,” cried Leslie; “the sound seems to be coming from straight ahead. We shall get a sight of something now in a few minutes.”

The men resumed their pulling with a will, encouraged by the fact that the shouts kept up by the unseen man were rapidly becoming clearer, more audible, and evidently nearer. Suddenly a dark mass loomed up ahead and another cry told them that they were close aboard the wreckage.

“Oars!” commanded Leslie. The men ceased pulling, and the individual upon the wreckage shouted—

“Boat ahoy! you’ll have to pull right round this raffle, and come up on t’other side afore you’ll be able to take me off. You can’t get alongside of me from where you are; there’s too much yard-arm and splintered spar stickin’ out in that direction. And I daren’t jump overboard and swim to you, for I’ve been blockaded all day by sharks—see, there’s one of them now, close alongside of ye!”

And looking over the side, the crew of the boat beheld, revealed as a shape of fire in the highly phosphorescent sea, a monster of fully twenty feet in length or more, swimming rapidly along, a few feet below the surface; while, some half-a-dozen yards away, a second suddenly revealed his presence.

“All right,” answered Leslie, “stay where you are; we will pull round to the other side.”

So said, so done; and five minutes later they had got the man—the only occupant of the wreckage as it proved—safe aboard the boat, and were pulling back towards the brig, now barely discernible as a small, faint, indistinct dark blot against the blue-black, star-spangled sky, with her anchor light hoisted to the gaff-end as a guide to the returning rescue party.

The rescued man proved to be—as Leslie had already guessed from the fellow’s manner of speech—one of the foremast hands of the Golden Fleece. Like Leslie, he had been dragged under when the ship went down, but in his downward journey had encountered what proved to be a loose cork fender, to which he had clung desperately. The buoyancy of the fender was sufficient to immediately check his descent into the depths, and ultimately to take him back to the surface, where he found himself close alongside a mass of top-hamper, consisting of the ship’s fore-topmast with all attached, that had torn itself adrift from the wreck when she went down; and to this he had at once swam, and taken refuge upon it. He told a pathetic tale of the despair that had seized him, when, at dawn, he had found himself the sole survivor, as he supposed, of the catastrophe; and of the alternations of hope and despair that had been his throughout the day when the brig appeared in sight, drifted up to within three short miles of him, and there lay becalmed. The most distressing part of his experience, perhaps, consisted in the fact that, although an excellent swimmer, and quite capable of covering the distance between himself and the brig, he had found himself beset by a school of sharks, and therefore dared not forsake the refuge of the wreckage, and take to the water.

Upon the return of the boat to the brig, Leslie learned from the mate that Potter was still in his bunk, and that the dazed feeling resulting from the blow that he had sustained when thrown against the rail still seemed to be as acute as ever. Purchas, indeed, seemed to be growing rather anxious about him; and eagerly inquired of Leslie whether the latter happened to know anything about medicine; as he thought the time had arrived when something ought to be done to help the man back to his senses. Medicine, however, was a branch of science about which Leslie happened to know little or nothing; but he readily acceded to Purchas’s suggestion that he should have a look at the patient; and accordingly—although by this time a substantial meal was set out upon the brig’s cabin table, and the ex-lieutenant felt himself quite prepared to do ample justice to it—he forthwith descended to the cabin in which the skipper was lying; and, having knocked at the door without getting a reply, entered.

It was the same cabin in which he himself had enjoyed some hours of sleep after his long spell in the water, and Potter was lying stretched at full length upon the bunk that he had previously occupied. A small oil lamp, screwed to the bulkhead, afforded a fairly good light, by the aid of which Leslie saw that the man was lying with his eyes wide-open, and the eyeballs turned slightly upward, apparently staring at the deck above him. But the gaze was without intelligence; and the fellow appeared to be quite unconscious of his surroundings, for he took no notice whatever of Leslie’s entrance; nor did the eyes waver in the least when the latter spoke to him, Leslie laid his hand upon the forehead of his late antagonist, and found it cool to the touch, although clammy with perspiration. Then he laid his fingers upon the man’s wrist, and felt for his pulse, which appeared to be normal. Beyond the dazed condition which the man exhibited, there did not appear to be much the matter with him; and when at length Leslie left him and entered the main cabin—at the table of which he found Purchas and Miss Trevor seated, discussing the viands before them—he said as much; adding his opinion that the condition in which he found the skipper would probably end in sleep, and that the man would no doubt be all right in the morning. The conversation then turned to other matters, the mate remarking that he supposed the skipper’s indisposition meant an all-night job on deck for him (the mate); whereupon Leslie expressed his readiness to take charge of a watch until Potter should be able to resume duty—an offer which Purchas gladly accepted. It was arranged that, as the preceding night had been a very trying one for Leslie, he should take the middle watch; and accordingly, when the meal was over, as Miss Trevor, pleading fatigue, retired to the cabin that Potter had given up to her, Leslie sought the seclusion of his quarters in the longboat, which had been made ready for him, and was soon wrapped in sound and dreamless sleep.

He was called at midnight by Purchas, who reported to him with some uneasiness that there was no change in the skipper’s condition. The night was still beautifully fine, and the weather a flat calm; there was therefore nothing calling for Leslie’s immediate attention, and he readily assented to Purchas’s urgent solicitation that he should take another look at the patient, and say what he thought of his condition. Upon descending to the stuffy little cabin he found that, as the mate had reported, there was no marked change in Potter’s condition; he still lay, as before, without movement, his unseeing eyes upturned, and apparently quite unconscious of the presence of the two men who bent over him. The only difference noticeable to Leslie was that the man’s breathing seemed to be somewhat stertorous.

“Well, what d’ye think of him?” anxiously demanded Purchas, when at length Leslie raised himself from his examination.

“To be quite candid with you, Purchas,” answered Leslie, “I scarcely know what to think; but I am afraid the man’s condition is somewhat more serious than I thought it to be when I last visited him. I must confess that I do not like this long spell of wakefulness combined with unconsciousness of his surroundings. What is actually wrong I am sorry that I cannot say, but the symptoms appear to me to point to an injury of the brain. You have a medicine-chest on board, I suppose?”

“Oh yes,” answered Purchas. “It is in the skipper’s cabin.”

“Um!” remarked Leslie. “That is awkward. We cannot very well gain access to it just now without disturbing Miss Trevor; and I do not think that the case is urgent enough to demand that we should do that. But to-morrow morning, as soon as the young lady is out of her cabin, we will get that medicine-chest and overhaul the book of directions that I have no doubt we shall find in it; and perhaps we shall discover a description of symptoms somewhat similar to those exhibited by your skipper. And, if so, we will try the remedies recommended. Now I would advise you to turn in; and don’t worry about the skipper, for I have no doubt that we shall be able to pull him round all right. And perhaps this will be a lesson to him to keep his temper under somewhat better control.”

“Well, I’m sure I hope it will,” answered Purchas. “If it does that, I shan’t be sorry that this has happened; for I can tell you, Mr. Leslie, that when the ‘old man’ gets his back up, as he did this afternoon, things grow pretty excitin’ aboard this hooker. Well, good night; and if anything happens atween this and eight bells, you might give me a call—not but what I expect you’re a far better sailor-man than what I am.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” laughed Leslie; “I think you may trust me to take care of this three-decker of yours. But if anything happens, and I find myself at a loss, I will not fail to call you. Good night!”

And, so saying, Leslie left the cabin and, making his way up on deck, took a sailor-like look at the brilliantly star-lit sky that stretched cloudless all round the brig from zenith to horizon, as he thoughtfully filled and lit his pipe.

To tell the truth, he was less easy in his mind touching Potter’s condition than he had allowed Purchas to see. That the man was something more than merely stunned was now undeniable; and although the injury might not in itself be serious, the complete ignorance of Purchas and himself in relation to medical and surgical matters might possibly lead to wrong treatment that, in its turn, might result in complications ending, who could say where? Of course the man had only himself to thank for it; his conduct had been provocative to the last degree; yet Leslie had been animated by no vindictive feeling when he had attacked the man, still less had he intended to inflict any serious injury upon him; he had, indeed, acted solely in self-defence in taking the fellow’s revolver away from him; and as to the violence that had accompanied the act—well he himself considered it perfectly excusable under the circumstances; and so, he believed, would any unprejudiced person. Nevertheless, he regretted the incident; he would much rather that it had not happened; and while dismissing the subject from his mind, for the moment, he resolved that henceforth he would keep himself much better in hand in his dealings with the man.

The calm continued throughout Leslie’s watch; and when at eight bells he turned over the charge of the deck to Purchas, the brig, save for an occasional lazy and almost imperceptible heave on the now invisible swell, was as motionless as a house.

When, however, Purchas called him at seven bells—thus allowing him time to wash and dress in readiness for breakfast at eight o’clock, Leslie found, upon turning out, that while the morning was as gloriously fine as the preceding night had been, the brilliant blue of the sky overhead was streaked here and there with light touches of cirrus cloud, the forerunners of a breeze that was already wrinkling the surface of the azure sea and causing it to sparkle as though strewed with diamond dust in the wake of the sun, while it just filled the brig’s sails sufficiently to keep them asleep and give the old tub steerage-way. The watch were just finishing off the task of washing decks; the men going over the streaming planks with swabs and squeegees, to remove the superfluous water, while Purchas, sitting on the stern grating, was drying his bare feet with a towel preparatory to drawing on his socks and shoes. Miss Trevor was not visible.

The mate, having bade Leslie good morning, proceeded to inform him that the breeze, which was breathing out from the eastward, had come up with the sun, and that he hoped it would freshen as the day grew older; winding up with an earnest aspiration that it would last long enough to run them into the “Trades.” Then, having donned his foot coverings, he drew Leslie aside, out of hearing of the helmsman, to impart the information that, having visited the “old man’s” cabin an hour previously, he had found him no better, and that he was beginning to feel “downright anxious” about him.

Hearing this, Leslie proposed that they should both go down together, to investigate Potter’s condition; and Purchas eagerly acquiescing, they presently found themselves once more bending over the sick man.

As the mate had said, there was no perceptible change in the skipper’s appearance, save that, as Leslie thought, his breathing was a trifle more stertorous. He was lying in precisely the same attitude that he had assumed when first placed in the bunk; indeed, the two men agreed that, so far as they could see, he had not moved a limb from that moment. While they stood there together, discussing the man’s disconcerting condition, faint rustling, as of garments, outside the cabin door, accompanied by light footsteps upon the companion ladder, apprised them of the fact that Miss Trevor was moving, and had gone on deck; whereupon Leslie went out and followed her. He found her standing just to windward of the companion, gazing with visible delight at the brilliant and sparkling scene around her. She had evidently rested well, for she looked as fresh and wholesome as the morning itself; and although her costume was somewhat shrunken, and showed here and there patches of whitish discolouration from its long immersion in the sea, she still presented a picture of grace calculated to charm the most fastidious eye.

Lifting his cap, Leslie stepped forward and greeted her, bidding her good morning, and remarking that he hoped she had slept as well as her appearance seemed to suggest; to which she replied, laughingly, that she had, and that she hoped she could return the compliment.

“Oh yes,” answered Leslie; “I have slept admirably, thanks. I have had eight hours in, and four hours—the four hours of the middle watch—on deck, having undertaken to stand watch and watch with Purchas during the skipper’s indisposition, the mention of which brings me to the point of asking you, Miss Trevor, whether you will permit me to enter your cabin for the purpose of removing a medicine-chest that, I understand from the mate, is there.”

“Yes, certainly,” assented the girl, “you may enter it at once, if you wish, Mr. Leslie. I have tidied it up myself this morning, and intend to do so regularly in future; it will provide me with something to do. But you spoke of Captain Potter’s indisposition. Is he unwell, then?”

“Why, yes,” said Leslie; “he appears to be. The fact is, that he has not yet recovered from the blow that he received yesterday evening when he forced upon me the disagreeable necessity to disarm him. He has lain unconscious the whole night through, without moving so much as a muscle, so far as one can see; and, to tell you the whole truth, Purchas and I are beginning to feel more than a trifle uneasy about him. Hence my request for permission to have access to the medicine-chest.”

“Oh dear, I am so sorry,” exclaimed the girl, a note of concern at once entering her voice. “Pray go at once, Mr. Leslie, I beg, and do whatever you may deem necessary. I hope it will not prove that the captain is seriously injured; it will be so—so—very—embarrassing for you.”

“Well,” answered Leslie, “of course I should be very sorry if, as you say, anything serious were to happen; but, even so, the man will only have himself to thank for it.”

And, with this attempt to justify himself, Leslie raised his cap again, and vanished down the companion-way.

As his footsteps sounded on the companion ladder, Purchas emerged from the cabin occupied by Potter, and joined him.