Chapter 27 - A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea by Mayne Reid
Too Late!
Nearly two hours had transpired since the starting of the Catamaran,—during which time but little change took place in the relative positions of those on board. Then, however, Snowball having finished the stowage of his stores, proposed taking his turn at steering. The offer was willingly accepted by the sailor, who, relinquishing his hold upon the oar, went forward amidships. There he had placed his old sea-chest; and, kneeling in front of it, he commenced rummaging among its contents, with the design of making himself more familiar with them, and seeing whether he might not discover some article inside that would be serviceable under the circumstances.
William and Lilly Lalee still remained by the head,—the boy habitually keeping a lookout over the ocean, but at frequent intervals turning his glances towards her who sat by his side, and endeavouring to interest her with his conversation.
The girl could not speak English,—only a few phrases which she had picked up from English or American seamen, who had visited her father’s fort upon the African coast. These, though by her repeated in all innocence, were neither of the most refined character, nor yet sufficiently comprehensive to enable her to hold any lengthened dialogue. It was in her own tongue that the conversation between her and William was carried on: for the lad had picked up a somewhat extensive vocabulary of Portuguese among the sailors of the Pandora—many of whom were of that nation. It was a sort of “lingoa geral” spoken along the seaboard of Africa,—not unlike a similar Portuguese patois, current on the coasts and large rivers of tropical South America.
In this language, little William, by the aid of signs and gestures, was able to keep up an occasional conversation with Lilly Lalee.
During the two hours which the sailor had remained at the steering-oar,—and for some time after,—no incident occurred to interrupt the tranquillity of the Catamaran’s crew.
A very odd sort of fish, swimming about a cable’s length ahead of the craft, had attracted the attention of William and the girl,—exciting their curiosity so much as to cause them to rise to their feet and stand watching it.
The interest which this creature had inspired was not, however, of a pleasant kind. On the contrary, both looked upon it with feelings of repugnance, almost amounting to awe; for it was in reality one of the ugliest monsters to be met with in the great deep.
In size it it as about equal to the body of a man; but much more elongated, and lessening gradually towards the tail. It seemed to possess a double quantity of fins,—lunated along their outer margins, and set thickly over its body, so as to give it a bristling aspect. Unlike other fishes, its neck was more slender than its head and shoulders,—imparting to it a sort of human shape. But it was in its head that the hideousness of the creature was more especially conspicuous; the skull being prolonged on each side outwards to the distance of several inches, and set upon its neck after the fashion of a mallet upon its shaft! At the end of these lateral protuberances appeared the eyes, with gleaming golden irides, glancing horridly to the right and left.
The mouth was not less abnormal in shape and position. Instead of being in the hideous head already described, it was in the breast,—where at intervals it could be seen yawning wide open, and displaying a quadruple row of sharp serrated teeth, that threatened instant destruction to any substance, however hard, that might chance to come between them.
Little William knew not what sort of fish it was; for though common enough in some parts of the ocean, he had not had the good or ill fortune to see one before. As his companion had put the question, however,—and also to satisfy his own curiosity,—he appealed to Ben.
The latter, raising his eyes above the top of his chest, and looking in the direction pointed out by the lad, at once recognised the animal which appeared to have attached itself as an escort to the Catamaran.
“Hammer-head!” said Ben; “a shark he be; an’ the ugliest o’ his ugly tribe.”
Saying this, the sailor once more ducked his head under the lid of the chest, and continued his exploration,—altogether heedless of the “hammer-head,” from whose proximity they had nothing to fear.
So believed Ben Brace at the moment.
It proved a feeling of false security. In less than ten minutes from that time the sailor was within six feet of the “hammer-head’s” open mouth,—in imminent danger of being craunched between those quadruple tiers of terrible teeth, and taken into the monster’s capacious maw.
By the phrase “hammer-head,” so laconically pronounced by the captain of the Catamaran, little William recognised in the fish a creature which, although never seen by him before, he had read of in books, both of travel and natural history. It was the “hammer-head” shark, or balance-fish, so-called from the peculiar formation of its head,—the zygaena of the naturalists, and one of the most voracious of that devouring tribe to which genetically it belongs.
The individual in question was, as is already stated, about a cable’s length from the raft, right ahead; and through the translucent water its form could be distinctly traced in all its hideous outlines. Swimming in the same direction, and at a like rate of speed, it preserved a regular distance from the raft; and appeared like some guide or avant courier conducting the Catamaran across the Atlantic!
William and Lalee watched the fish for a considerable time; but as no change took place either in its movements or the position it held in relation to the raft, their curiosity at length became satisfied, and their eyes were turned in a different direction.
But the gaze of the boy-sailor soon became fixed; and upon an object which caused him to give utterance to two distinct exclamations,—distinct in point of time, as different in signification. The first was an ejaculation, or rather a series of phrases expressing a jocular surprise,—the second a cry of serious alarm.
“Ho!” cried he, on turning round and glancing towards the stern of the Catamaran, “Snowball asleep! Ha! ha! ha! See the old sea-cook! Verily, that steering-oar has escaped from his hand!”
Almost instantly succeeded the shout that betokened alarm, followed by a series of hurried phrases, indicating the danger itself.
“The boom,—the boom! ’Tis coming round! Look out, Lalee! look out!”
As he gave utterance to these words of warnings the boy sprang towards his companion, with arms outstretched, to protect her.
The action came too late. The steering-oar, held in the hands of the sleeper, hung suspended high above the water. The Catamaran, left without control, luffed suddenly round beam-end to the wind; the boom obeyed the impulse of the breeze; and Lilly Lalee, uplifted upon its end, was brushed off from the craft, and jerked far out upon the blue bosom of the ocean!