Chapter 39 - A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea by Mayne Reid
Down the Wind
They had not proceeded very far, when a cry from the girl caused them to suspend their exertions. While the others were occupied in propelling the chest, Lalee, kneeling upon the lid, had been keeping a lookout ahead. Something she saw had elicited that cry, which was uttered in a tone that betokened, if not joy, at least some sort of gratification.
“Wha is it, Lilly Lally?” interrogated the black, with an air of eagerness; “you see someting. Golly! am it de Cat’maran?”
“No,—it is not that. It’s only a barrel floating on the water.”
“Only a ba’l,—what sort o’ a ba’l you tink ’im?”
“I think it’s one of the empty water-casks we had tied to the raft. I’m sure it is: for I see ropes upon it.”
“It is,” echoed Ben, who, having poised himself aloft, had also caught sight of the cask. “Shiver my timbers! it do look like as if the Cat had come to pieces. But no! Tain’t that has set the cask adrift. I set it all now. Little Will’m be at the bottom o’ this too. He has cut away the lashin’s o’ the barrel, so as to gie us one more chance, in the case o’ our not comin’ across the chest. How thoughtful o’ the lad! Just like ’im, as I said it war!”
“We bess swim for de cask an’ take ’im in tow,” suggested the sea-cook; “no harm hab ’im ’longside too. If de wind ’pring up, de ole chess be no use much. De cask de berry ting den.”
“You’re right, Snowy! we musn’t leave the cask behind us. If the kit have served us a good turn, the other ’ud be safer in a rough sea. It be dead ahead, so we may keep straight on.”
In five minutes after, they were alongside the cask,—easily recognised by its rope lashings, as one of those they had left attached to the raft. The sailor at the first glance saw that some of the chords encircling it had been cut with a knife, or other sharp instrument,—not severed with any degree of exactitude, but “haggled,” as if the act had been hurriedly performed.
“Little Will’m again! He’s cut the ropes wi’ the old axe, an’ it were blunt enough to make a job for him! Huzza for the noble lad!”
“Tay!” cried Snowball, not heeding the enthusiastic outburst of the sailor. “You hold on to de chess, Massa Brace, while I climb up on de cask, and see what I can see. May be I may see de Catamaran herseff now.”
“All right, nigger. You had better do that. Mount the barrel, an’ I’ll keep a tight hold o’ the kit.”
Snowball, releasing his arm from the sennit loop, swam up to the floating cask; and, after some dodging about, succeeded in getting astride of it.
It required a good deal of dexterous manoeuvring to keep the cask from rolling, and pitching him back into the water. But Snowball was just the man to excel in this sort of aquatic gymnastics; and after a time he became balanced in his seat with sufficient steadiness to admit of his taking a fair survey of the ocean around him.
The sailor had watched his movements with a sage yet hopeful eye: for these repeated indications of both the presence and providence of his own protégé had almost convinced him that the latter would not be very distant from the spot. It was nothing more than he had prepared himself to expect, when the Coromantee, almost as soon as he had steadied himself astride of the water-cask, shouted, in a loud voice—
“The Cat’maran!—the Cat’maran!”
“Where?” cried the sailor. “To leuart?”
“Dead in dat same direcshun.”
“How fur, cookey? how fur?”
“Not so fur as you might hear de bos’n’s whissel; not more dan tree, four length ob a man-o’-war cable.”
“Enough, Snowy! What do you think best to be done?”
“De bess ting we can do now,” replied the negro, “am for me to obertake dat ere craff. As you said, de sail am down; an’ de ole Cat no go fasser dan a log o’ ’hogany wood in a calm o’ de tropic. If dis child swim affer, he soon come up; and den wif de oar an’ de help ob lilly Willy, he meet you more dan half-way,—dat fo’ sartin.”
“You think you can overtake her, Snowball?”
“I be sartin ob dat ere. You tay here wif Lilly Lally. Keep by de chess and de cask boaf,—for de latter am better dan de former. No fear, I soon bring de Cat’maran long dis way, once I get ’board o’ her.”
So saying, the negro gave the cask a “cant” to one side, slipped off into the water; and, with a final caution to his comrade to keep close to the spot where they were parting, he stretched out his muscular arms to their full extent, and commenced surging through the water,—snorting as he went like some huge cetacean of the tribe of the Mysticeti.