Chapter 42 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
We were in the middle of the wide Atlantic, hundreds of miles from any land. Let this fact be remembered.
One morning I came upon deck rather later than usual. Most generally I was awakened out of my sleep, and at a very early hour, by the thundering voice of the mate, and usually either with an oath or a rough shaking—the latter always when the ruffian was near enough to administer it.
On this particular morning, for what reason I could not divine, I was permitted to lie still undisturbed; and taking advantage of the indulgence, and, indeed, overpowered by sleep, of which I never had enough, I lay still and slept on.
It was considerably after daylight when I awoke. The sun was shining down into the forecastle and lit up that little wooden chamber—which was at most times as dark as a dungeon—with unusual brilliancy; and I could see distinctly everything and every person in the place. Of the latter there were only two or three. The bright light gushing into my eyes told me that I had overslept myself, and that it was far past the hour at which I should have been on deck and at work. For this reason the first idea in my mind was, that I was in for a rope’s-ending from the mate, which I might expect as soon as I made my appearance on the quarter-deck.
It was no use, however, to think of “dodging” it. I should be certain to get it, sooner or later, and the sooner the better, thought I, since then the dread of it would be off my mind, and the thing would be over.
Indulging in this view of the case, I slipped on my jacket and shoes (these were the only portions of my dress I ever took off), and nerving myself for the expected punishment, I sprawled up the ladder, and, emerging, through the forecastle-hatch, stood upon deck.
On reaching the deck I had an impression that something was wrong in the vessel; indeed, I had already some such impression before coming up. There were only two men below in the forecastle—foreigners they were—and they were conversing in their own language, which I did not understand; but there was something in the expression of their faces that struck me forcibly. Both looked gloomy, though excited, and their gesticulations, as they talked with each other, led me to believe that they were discussing some serious event that had either happened, or was about to happen, to the Pandora.
“Perhaps,” thought I, catching hope with the thought, “perhaps there is a sail in sight—a man-of-war with a British flag? perhaps the slaver is being chased?”
I would have endeavoured to communicate with the men, and ask them what had happened, but they chanced to be a brace of morose fellows who had always shown ill-will towards me, and I refrained from putting any questions to them. I should find out by going on deck; and, my spirits somewhat lightened by the conjecture I had formed, I sprang more cheerfully up the steps.
As soon as I reached the deck my impressions were confirmed, though not my conjectures; for almost the first thing that I did was to sweep the sea with my glance, turning all round as I looked. No sail was in sight. It was almost a perfect calm upon the water, and the sky was blue and cloudless. I could have seen the sail, had there been one, at the distance of many miles; but neither sail nor spar appeared between the barque and the horizon’s verge. It was not that, then, that was creating the excitement aboard; for I now saw that there was an excitement, and of no ordinary kind.
Both mate and captain were upon the quarter-deck, storming and swearing, while sailors were hurrying to and fro, some plunging down the open hatchways, and some returning up them, with gloom and ghastly paleness upon their faces that indicated feelings of alarm and terror!
I noticed several water-butts upon the deck that had been brought freshly from the hold. Men were grouped around them—some knocking out the bungs, and others with tin dippers suspended upon strings, plunging them into the holes and apparently gauging the contents or trying the water.
One and all, however, appeared to take an interest in the operations, far above what they would have manifested in any ordinary labour of the vessel, and I could tell from their looks and gestures that something very serious was on the tapis. What it was I could not guess. I fancied, however, that it was something connected with the water.
I became anxious to know the cause of this strange, sudden commotion. I looked for Brace, but could not see him. Most probably he was down below, in the hold where the water-butts were kept—for this seemed to be the point of interest. I, therefore, left the foredeck, and stepped forward to the main-hatchway.
I was now close to the mate. He saw me, but took no notice of me. This of itself was strange enough, and I now felt positively convinced that some serious event had arisen, or was going to arise.
What could it be that was thus to save me from the expected castigation? Something of great import—some dread danger!
I looked down the hatchway for Brace. I saw him below, far down in the bottom of the hold, busy among the great casks, rolling them over one another. There were others along with him—some standing by, and some helping him. Like those on deck, all wore gloomy looks, that bespoke feelings of doubt mingled with apprehension.
I could endure the suspense no longer. Only waiting till the mate turned away his head, I glided into the open hatchway, and descended first to the half-deck, and then down a ladder to the hold.
I scrambled over the casks until I was close to my friend. I took hold of him by the sleeve to draw his attention. He turned round as I did so.
“What is it, Ben?” I enquired.
“Ugly news, Will! ugly news!”
“What news?”
“The water be out!”