Chapter 53 - A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea by Mayne Reid
Gloomy Prospects
The reappearance of the sword-fish,—if it was the same that had already paid them a visit,—or more likely the discovery and pursuit of the “school” of flying-fish,—had caused the albacores to decamp from the neighbourhood of the Catamaran; so that with the exception of that taken from the talons of the frigate-bird, not one was any longer to be seen.
Once recovered from the excitement, caused by the singular accident that happened to the Catamaran,—as well as the other incident almost as singular,—her crew made an inspection of their craft, to see if any damage had accrued from the shock.
Fortunately there was none. The piercing of the plank, in which the bony rostrum remained firmly imbedded, was of no consequence whatever; and, although several feet of the “sword,”—the whole of the blade, in fact, excepting that which protruded above,—could be perceived jutting out underneath, they made no attempt to “extract” it: since it could not greatly interfere with the sailing qualities of the Catamaran.
The plank itself had been started slightly out of place aid one or two other timbers loosened. But in such able hands as those of Snowball and the sailor, these trifling damages were soon made good again.
The two baited hooks were once more dropped into the water, but the sun went down over the ocean without either of them receiving a nibble. No albacore,—no fish whatever,—no bird,—no living creature of any kind,—was in sight at the setting of that sun; which, slowly descending, as it were, into the silent depths of the ocean, left them in the purple gleam of the twilight.
Notwithstanding the interesting events which had transpired,—enough to secure them against a single moment of ennui,—they were far from being cheerful in that twilight hour. The stirring incidents of the day had kept them from thinking of their real situation; but when all was once more tranquil,—even to the ocean around them,—their thoughts naturally reverted to their very narrow chances of ultimately escaping from that wide, wild waste, stretching, as it seemed, to the ends of the world!
With wistful glances they had watched the sun sinking over the sea. The point where the golden luminary disappeared from their sight was due westward,—the direction in which they desired to go. Could they have only been at that moment where his glorious orb was shining down from the vertex, they would have been upon dry land; and, O what a thrilling thought is that of firm stable earth, to the wretched castaway clinging upon his frail raft in the middle of the endless ocean!
They were discouraged by the dead calm that reigned around them; for every breath of the breeze had died away before sunset. The surface of the sea was tranquil even to glassiness; and as the twilight deepened, it began to mirror the millions of twinkling stars gradually thickening in the sky.
There was something awful in the solemn stillness that reigned around them; and with something like awe did it inspire them.
It was not unbroken by sounds; but these were of a character to sadden rather than cheer them, for they were sounds to be heard only in the wilderness of the great deep,—such as the half-screaming laugh of the sea-mew, and the wild whistle of the boatswain-bird.
Another cause of discouragement to our castaways,—one which had that day arisen,—was the loss of their valuable dried fish.
It is true that only a portion of their stock had been spilled into the engulfing ocean; but even this was a cause of regret; since it might not be so easy to make up the quantity lost.
While angling among the albacores, with the prospect of making a successful troll, they had thought less of it. Now that these fish had forsaken them,—leaving only three in their possession,—and they were in doubt whether they might ever come across another “school,”—more acutely did they feel the misfortune.
Their spirits sank still lower, as the descending twilight darkened around them; and for an hour or more not a cheerful word was heard or spoken by that sad quartette composing the crew of the Catamaran.