I antic.i.p.ated great pleasure in visiting Peru and Mexico, and the numerous strange islands in the Pacific of which I had read, and perhaps Australia, and China, and j.a.pan, and longed to be away. The evening before the ship was to sail, Pearson came into the berth where I was sitting alone, and said:

"I must prepare you for what is not likely to be pleasant. Owen has joined; but follow my advice--receive him as an old shipmate, take no notice of his former conduct, and treat him frankly, and you will probably conquer his hostility. At all events, he knows by this time that I will not allow him to play you the tricks he before did with impunity."

On going on deck, I saw Owen talking to a group of mates and midshipmen.

He expressed no surprise at finding Pearson and me on board, and though there was an unpleasant look in his eye, there was nothing to find fault with in his manner.

We had a quick pa.s.sage round the Horn.

Owen appeared either very greatly changed, or proved that to his other arts he could practise hypocrisy. Our captain was a religious man, and, what was rare in those days, used to invite the officers in to read the Bible with him. Owen, who used to say that he had never been into a church since he came to sea, was among the most constant in his attendance, and completely won the confidence of the captain, who spoke of him as an excellent man who had not received his deserts. Owen, on the strength of this, insinuated that my religious principles were very defective, and offered to instruct me. He made a commencement, and might have succeeded in instilling principles not such as our excellent captain supposed he would, but directly the reverse, had not Pearson, to whom I repeated what he said, again interfered, and threatened to expose him if he continued to utter such sentiments. He excused himself by declaring that I had mistaken his meaning; but Pearson knew well enough that I had not; and I soon saw by his change of manner that he was devising some new scheme to do me harm.

When once, however, among the coral islands of the Pacific, we were so constantly employed in looking out for reefs and rocks, that we had little time for polemical discussions. Although the inhabitants of some of the islands had in those days already become partially civilised under missionary teaching, a large number were fierce and treacherous savages, and in our intercourse with them we were compelled to be very wary, to avoid the fate of Captain Cook, and that of the crews of many other ships which had been cut off in those seas. We had already discovered that the Pacific can be anything but tranquil at times, by two heavy gales we had already experienced, but of late we had light breezes and calms. At length our water began to run short, and it became necessary to obtain a supply without delay. A look-out was therefore kept for an island where it could be procured. Before long an island was sighted, and three boats were ordered away to explore it.

Owen commanded one of them, and I was ordered to go in her. I was glad enough to get on sh.o.r.e, though I would rather have been with any one else.

As there appeared to be no inhabitants, we were to land at different places, so as the more readily to find water. We steered for a point which would take us farther from the ship than the other boats. All hands were in high spirits with the thought of a lark on sh.o.r.e. A narrow pa.s.sage was found in the surrounding reef, and we ran the boat into a beautiful and sheltered bay, with the trees coming down on either side almost to the water's edge. If water was to be found here it would be easy to fill the casks and roll them down to the boats. In vain we hunted about in every direction--no water was to be found. Owen then ordered the men to dig; but they were unsuccessful. Some time was thus occupied, but he declared that he would not return without finding water, and that we must divide, some to push farther inland, and others along the sh.o.r.e. Greatly to my disgust he ordered me to remain by the boat, and I observed, as he spoke, that evil look with which he often regarded me. He led one party along the sh.o.r.e to the right, while he sent another more inland. Only one boy was left with me. They had been gone some little time, when the report of a gun from the ship reached my ear. It was the signal of recall. Another soon followed; I hoped that the absent parties would hear the signal, or would soon return. A third, and then the report of several guns in quick succession reached my ear. There was evidently danger to be apprehended. I had little doubt, on observing the changed appearance of the sky, that a gale was expected, though in the sheltered bay where the boat was I had not remarked any threatening signs. All I could do was to keep the boat afloat, so that we might shove off directly the other parties arrived.

I looked eagerly out along the sh.o.r.e, but no one was to be seen. The ship had ceased firing; indeed, from the appearance of the sea outside, it was evident that the gale had commenced, and that she had been compelled, for her own safety, to stand off-sh.o.r.e. Our only resource, therefore, would be to wait till the gale should have blown itself out, and the frigate could come back to pick us up. I now became very anxious, for I thought that Owen must have observed the change in the weather, and that something must have occurred to have prevented him from returning. I was eagerly looking about in every direction, when I caught sight of some persons running among the trees towards the boat.

I soon distinguished some of the boat's crew, with Owen among them.

They had good reason for running fast, for behind came a crowd of savages, shouting and shrieking, and brandishing clubs and spears. Now and then our people would face about, fire their pistols, and then again retreat. As they drew near, Owen shouted to me to be ready to hand out the muskets, which lay in the bottom of the boat. The boy and I did as we were directed, but the savages, believing that their enemies were about to escape them, made a dash forward, and two of the crew lay gasping on the sand, struck down by their clubs, while the foremost scrambled into the boat to escape a similar fate. The first impulse of each man as he got on board was to seize an oar to shove off, Owen setting the example; but as soon as the boat was afloat, the muskets were taken up, and a volley fired into the midst of the savages, who were wading in after us. It had the effect of keeping them back till we were out of their reach. Yet what a fearful predicament we were in--a storm raging outside, while we dare not approach the sh.o.r.e. The savages had canoes, so that we could not even wait under the lee of the land for fine weather. Owen announced his determination to stand out and run before the gale. We had a fine sea boat, capable of going through very heavy weather. Oh, the horrors of that voyage! We thought of the fate of our companions left on sh.o.r.e, that was undoubtedly ere this sealed.

Our numbers were fearfully diminished.

Owen told us to be thankful, as we had thus more food left to support our lives. I thought that it mattered very little whether we had more or less food, for even should our boat weather the gale, it was very improbable that we should fall in with the ship again, and must be starved, at all events. On we ran through the pa.s.sage in the reef. As we got clear of the land, it required all Owen's skill to steer the boat amid the fearful seas, which threatened every instant to engulf her.

Four hands continued baling, without stopping; and even these could scarcely keep the boat from foundering. On, on we flew. Night came on, still the gale did not abate. Owen's countenance, as the darkness closed around us, looked grim and firm; but there was a look of horror (it was not common fear) in his eye which I can never forget. He kept his post, steering the boat through that livelong night without uttering a word. Day came back, and there he sat as before, keeping the boat on the only course which could afford us a possibility of escape. Not till then would he allow the c.o.xswain, who had escaped, to take his place.

On we went as before, all day long. "Where were we going?" we asked ourselves. No one could reply. Food was served out; few had an inclination to eat. It was fortunate, for we had but a scanty allowance, and still less to drink--a bottle of rum and a small keg of water. Another night and a day, and again a night, and one of our number sank exhausted. Owen still kept up, looking fierce and determined as ever. Day came, and land appeared right ahead--a high, rocky, and tree-covered island; but there was a barrier reef round it, over which the seas, rising with foam-covered summits, beat furiously.

Our utter destruction seemed inevitable. To haul our wind and stand off was now impracticable. Owen stood up, and, casting a glance around, steered boldly on. I saw that there was a break in the wall of foam, but a very narrow one. We had little time for thought before we were among the raging breakers. A sea came roaring; on. I felt the boat lifted, and the next moment was struggling with grim death in the yeasty waters.

Story 8--Chapter 4.

As I came to the surface I caught a glimpse of the sh.o.r.e, and struck out for it, but it seemed far distant. I swam like a man in his sleep; in vain, my strength was failing me, a mist came over my eyes, and I could no longer see the sh.o.r.e, when I felt a powerful hand grasping my shoulder, and ere long was conscious that I had been hauled out of the water and placed high up on the warm sand. I opened my eyes at length, and the first object on which they rested was the vindictive countenance of Owen, as he gazed at me. I say vindictive, because that was the expression which had often puzzled me. Yet why should he nourish such feelings towards me?

"So you are alive, are you?" he remarked, when he saw that I had regained my consciousness. "It might have been better for you had you gone with the rest, for we are the only survivors. However, I had too long a score with you to lose you, if I could bring you on sh.o.r.e safe."

"Then I am indebted to you for my life," I remarked.

"Yes, but the debt is not a heavy one, and you may think me ent.i.tled to very small thanks; for let me tell you your existence here will be no sinecure. I intend to make you slave and toil for me as you have never toiled before. At length I have you in my power. Ha, ha, ha!" And he laughed wildly. "Your wealth will avail you nothing here, your refinement, your education, your romantic aspirations. You are now my slave, and I your master. Ha, ha, ha!"

This greeting was not calculated to aid my recovery, but, in spite of it, my strength returned, and I was able to get up on my feet.

"I am ready to obey you," I said calmly. "You saved my life, and it is my duty to serve you as far as I have the power."

"Always talking of your duty!" he exclaimed, with a sneer. "It shall not be a light one, let me tell you. Now, as you can walk, find some food--sh.e.l.l-fish and water. I don't ask for impossibilities, but take care you do not touch any till I have eaten."

I must obey him, so, observing some rocks, I hurried towards them, and with my pocket-knife cut off as many mussels and other sh.e.l.l-fish as I could carry. He had had a flint and steel and a powder-flask in his pocket, and had thus without difficulty kindled a fire. While he dressed and ate the sh.e.l.l-fish he sent me off to look for water. I went with the fear every instant of falling into the hands of savage natives, and it was not till I discovered the small size of the island that I began to hope that there might be none upon it. I hunted about for some time, till I at length came upon a stream of pure water bubbling out of a rock. My difficulty was to convey it to Owen. Some cocoa-nut sh.e.l.ls were lying about. One less split than the rest I filled with water, but the greater part was spilt before I reached him. He cursed me for an idle hound for not bringing a larger supply, and sent me back for more.

Fortunately, I observed some sh.e.l.ls on the sh.o.r.e. These I slung round my neck, and with them brought as much water as he could require. Not till then did he allow me to cook any of the sh.e.l.l-fish I had collected.

He had eaten all he himself had dressed. He then ordered me to collect materials for a hut, and when I expostulated, as I had only my pocket-knife to work with, he struck me with a stick, and said I must see to finding a better tool. Still, as I had determined to do my utmost to please him, I set to work to collect all the pieces of drift timber I could find. To my satisfaction, I discovered also the boat's sail and some rope cast on sh.o.r.e, and these articles, with a number of thin sticks which I succeeded in cutting, I piled up near where he sat, and asked him what else he required.

"To help me build my hut," he growled out.

By fixing the thinner sticks into the sand, fastening them at the top, and stretching the sail over them, I formed something like an Indian wigwam, strengthened by the heavier pieces of driftwood. I observed that Owen moved about with difficulty, and looked ill, but he made no remark on the subject.

"Now go and collect dry leaves and gra.s.s for my bed. Be off with you,"

he exclaimed, glaring fiercely at me.

I obeyed as before, but when I returned, time after time, laden with bundles of gra.s.s, not an expression of approval even did he utter. Thus he kept me employed for the greater part of the day, and when I proposed collecting some gra.s.s for my own bed, he told me that I could not occupy his hut but must form one of boughs for myself. Such is an example of the way he treated me, not for one day only, but for day after day, not one pa.s.sing without my being struck and cursed. It is wonderful that I could have borne it, but I was not weary of my life, and I had resolved to show my grat.i.tude to him for having preserved it. I was very anxious, however, to escape, and whenever I could get away from him, I used to go to the highest part of the island to look out, in the hopes of a ship appearing. With indefatigable labour, I cut out a long pole and fixed it in the ground, with a part of my shirt, as a signal, fastened to the end. When Owen found out what I had done, he ordered me to take it down, and not again to visit the hill.

"Ah! ha! youngster, you've friends you wish to return to, and wealth you long to enjoy. I have neither, and I don't intend to let you go while I can prevent it."

This was almost more than I could bear, and I could not trust myself to reply to him. I might fill a volume with my extraordinary life on that islet in the Pacific--how I slaved on for that determined, stern, evil-disposed man. Constant occupation enabled me to keep my own health. I found cocoa-nuts and numerous roots and fruits, and invented various ways of cooking them. I even made clothes of the bark of the paper mulberry-tree, so that I was able to save my own before they were quite worn out. Thus months pa.s.sed away. I might have lived there from youth to old age, as far as the necessaries of life were concerned, but it was dreary work. Owen grew worse and worse, and I became convinced that his days were numbered. He did not seem to be aware of the state of the case, though rapidly growing weaker. I may honestly say that I felt deep compa.s.sion for him. I told him at last that I thought him very ill, and feared that he would not recover.

"Don't flatter yourself with that. I shall recover sufficiently to make you wish that you had never seen me," he answered, as he raised himself on his arm and glared fiercely at me.

I thought that he uttered but an empty threat which he had no power to execute. Still he lived on, and I tended him as if he had been a friend or brother. I had made my hut at some little distance from his. I had one night gone to sleep, leaving him not worse than he had been for some time past, when I suddenly awoke with a start, and hearing a noise looked out. What was my horror to see Owen stalking stealthily along with a huge piece of heavy driftwood uplifted in his hands, as if it were a club. I darted out on the other side of the hut as down came the log with a crash above where my head had just been laid, and a fearful shriek rang through the night air. I expected to see Owen following me, but he lay, as I looked back, across the ruins of my hut. I slowly approached--he did not move--the timber had fallen from his grasp. I touched his hand. He was dead.

I must bring my tale to a close. I was convinced that the wretched man was mad, though, from what afterwards came to my knowledge, there was more reason than I had supposed why his madness should have taken the form of hatred towards me. I cannot describe how I managed to pa.s.s the many dreary days I was destined to spend in solitude on that island, or how I was at length rescued by a South-Sea whaler, and ultimately fell in with my own ship, on board which I was heartily welcomed, having long been given up as lost. Owen's death excited universal horror. Pearson told me that he had been directed by the captain to examine his papers, among which he found parts of a journal, in which he described his bitter disappointment on discovering that the estate which he thought would be his had gone to another, and how, considering himself wronged, he had resolved to wreak his vengeance on the head of the person who had obtained what he conceived ought to have been his; how he had gone to see me, and finding that I had resolved to enter the navy, how he had formed the diabolical plan which he had attempted to carry out, but in every step of which he had been so mercifully frustrated.

I immediately wrote home to say that I was alive and well, with an account of my adventures, and expressed a hope that my letter would arrive in time to prevent Jack from being spoilt by the flatteries and indulgences he might receive as an elder son, advising that, if he appeared the worse for them, to effect a radical cure he should be forthwith packed off to sea.

Story 9--Chapter 1.

PAUL PETHERWICK THE PILOT--A TALE OF THE CORNISH COAST.

The _Sea-Gull_ Pilot-boat, hailing from Penzance, and owned and commanded by old Paul Petherwick, lay hove-to, one winter's day many years back, in the chops of the Channel. The dark-green seas rose up like walls capped with snow on either side of the little craft; now she floated on the foaming, hissing summit of one of them, again to sink down into the deep watery trench from which she had risen. Thus, as rising and falling, her white staysail glancing brightly, she looked not unlike the sea-bird whose name she bore.

Old Paul was the only person on deck, and he had lashed himself to the bulwarks. His white hair, escaping from under his "sou'-wester,"

streamed in the wind, and ever and anon he turned his head aside to avoid the showers of spray which flew over him, covering his flushing coat with wet. Again he would look out in search of any homeward-bound vessel which might need his services. His heart was heavy, for the previous night a fearful sea had struck the cutter, and washed his mate, Peter Buddock, and another man overboard. The latter had seized a rope, but it had slipped from his grasp; and poor Buddock was carried far away, his shriek of despair as he sank beneath the waves being his last utterance which reached the ears of his shipmates.

Another of Paul's crew, an old hand, had been injured by a blow from a block, and the rest were young men, willing and active enough, but not able to take entire charge of the cutter. Still, old Paul was a determined man, and as long as there was a chance of meeting a vessel to pilot up Channel, and as long as the cutter could keep the sea, he would not give in.

Hour after hour pa.s.sed by. Suddenly the crew, sitting round the stove in the little after-cabin, heard a loud report, followed by a deep groan. The trysail gaff had parted, and, falling, had struck the old pilot to the deck. They carried him below, and placed him in his berth.

Not a moment was to be lost if their own lives were to be saved. The helm was put up, and the little craft, paying off under her head-sail, before the rough sea, which came roaring onwards, had reached her, was running up Channel towards the Cornish coast. Old Paul continued to groan, seeming unconscious, and evidently suffering great pain. One or other of his young crew every now and then went below to ask him the right course to steer, for not even the outline of the coast could be seen. It was getting very dark, and thick flakes of snow were beginning to fall. The old pilot probably did not comprehend them; not a word could he utter. They endeavoured, therefore, to rig a spar on which to set the trysail; but no sooner did they hoist it than it was carried away, and at length they gave up the attempt in despair. They could not, therefore, heave the cutter to, and were obliged to run on. One of them went below, and endeavoured by every means he could think of to bring the old man to consciousness. The darkness increased as the night advanced, and the snow came down thicker and thicker. On flew the cutter.

"We must be nearing the land," said Jacob Pinner, the best seaman of the crew. "I wish that the old man would rouse up. I don't like the look of things, mates, that I don't."

Scarcely had he spoken when a deep, sullen roar, easily distinguished by a seaman amid the howling of the tempest, struck on the ears of the crew. "Breakers! breakers ahead!" they shouted.

"Port the helm--hard a-port!" cried a deep voice. It was that of the old pilot. The sound of the breakers had reached his ears even below, and roused him up. The order came too late. At that moment there was a loud crash; the cutter struck, and her rudder was carried away. The following sea lifted her and carried her on, while other seas came roaring up, and hissed and foamed round her. Though they covered her with sheets of spray, her crew were still able to cling to the rigging and preserve their lives. Providentially, most of the hours of the night were already spent, for they could not long have endured the cold and wet to which they were exposed. When daylight broke they found that they were near the end of a reef, about a mile from the sh.o.r.e. The gale had greatly abated. The tide was low. Inside of the reef there was smooth water. If they could launch their boat, which had remained on deck uninjured, they might save themselves before the return of the tide, when the cutter would be sure to go to pieces. Though the little boat narrowly escaped being stove in, the attempt was successful. The sh.o.r.e was reached. It was close to Paul Petherwick's house, some miles to the eastward of the port to which the cutter belonged.

Close to the spot where Paul and his crew landed, on the sh.o.r.e of a romantic bay, stood the residence of Sir Baldwin Treherne, known as the Manor House. Sir Baldwin was lord of the manor--a kind, warm-hearted, generous man. He had himself been at sea in his youth, but on coming into his estate had given up the profession. He had learned when at sea, probably from experiencing some of the hardships sailors have to endure, to sympathise with them, and to feel for their sufferings. He had seen through his telescope, while dressing in the morning, the wreck on the reef, and had immediately set off to find out what a.s.sistance could be rendered to the crew. He met the old pilot and his people not far from the sh.o.r.e, and insisted on their coming at once to the Manor House to be warmed and fed. Paul Petherwick would indeed have been unable to have reached his own home, as his strength and spirits were already exhausted. As the day advanced the wind again increased, and when the tide rose the _Sea-Gull_, battered by the waves, was seen quickly to disappear.

Great was old Paul's grief as he watched the destruction of the vessel.

"G.o.d's will be done," he said, bowing his head. "My poor wife and children, what will become of them? With her goes all the means I have of supporting them, and part of her cost is still unpaid."

The kind baronet overheard him. "Paul, we have known each other a good many long years," he said, putting his hand on his shoulder. "I should like to make you a Christmas-box. Let you and me go off to Plymouth to-morrow, and see if we cannot fall in with as fine a cutter as the _Sea-Gull_. It won't do to be letting our ships knock about the chops of the Channel this winter weather without you to show them the way up; so I'll find you a craft, and may she have better luck than the poor _Sea-Gull_!"

"Oh, Sir Baldwin, you are very good; so good, I shall never be able to repay you," exclaimed Paul Petherwick, respectfully pressing the kind baronet's hand.

"I am paid beforehand with all the blessings I enjoy," answered Sir Baldwin. "They came to me without my having toiled for them, far less deserved them; I am bound to make the best use of them in my power, so say no more about the matter."