"Who sees with equal eye, as Lord of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall."

Language cannot express the desolation of that thought.

Then the scene changed once more. We were again on board the ship, and in the power of the enraged mutineers, about to suffer whatever their vengeance might impel them to inflict. Poor Spot was swinging, a livid corpse, at one of the yard-arms. Browne was bound to the main-mast, while Luerson and his fiendish crew were exhausting their ingenuity in torturing him. The peculiar expression of his mild, open countenance, distorted by pain, went to my heart, and the sound of that familiar and friendly voice, now hoa.r.s.e and broken, and quivering with agony, thrilled me with horror. As he besought his tormentors to kill him at once, I thought that I kneeled to Luerson, and seconded the entreaty-- the greatest favour that could be hoped from him. The rest of us were doomed to walk the plank. Morton was stern and silent; Max pale and sorrowful; his arm was round my neck, and he murmured that life was sweet, and that it was a hard and terrible thing to die--to die so!

Arthur, calm and collected, cheered and encouraged us; and his face seemed like the face of an angel, as he spoke sweetly and solemnly, of the goodness and the love of G.o.d, and bade us put our whole trust and hope in Christ our Saviour. His earnest words and serene look, soothed and strengthened us; we also became calm and almost resigned. There was no abject fear, no useless cries, or supplications to our foes for mercy; but the solemn sense of the awfulness of death, was mingled with a sweet and sustaining faith in G.o.d, and Christ, and Immortality. Hand in hand, like brothers, we were preparing to take the fearful plunge-- when I started and awoke.

Even the recollection of our real situation was insufficient to impair the deep sense of relief which I experienced. My first impulse was to thank G.o.d that these were but dreams; and if I had obeyed the next, I should have embraced heartily each of my slumbering companions; for in the first confusion of thought and feeling, my emotions were very much what they would naturally have been, had the scenes of visionary terror, in which we seemed to have just partic.i.p.ated together, been real.

Morton was at his post, and I spoke to him, scarcely knowing or caring what I said. All I wanted, was to hear his voice, to revive the sense of companionship, and so escape the painful impressions which even yet clung to me.

He said that he had just commenced his watch, Arthur having called him but a few moments before. The night was still lowering and overcast, but there was less wind and sea than when I first laid down. I proposed to relieve him at once, but he felt no greater inclination to sleep than myself and we watched together until morning. The two or three hours immediately before dawn seemed terribly long. Just as the first grey light appeared in the east, Arthur joined us. A dense volume of vapour which rested upon the water, and contributed to the obscurity in which we were enveloped, now gathered slowly into ma.s.ses, and floated upward as the day advanced, gradually clearing the prospect; and we kept looking out for the island, in the momentary expectation of seeing it loom up before us through the mist. But when, as the light increased, and the fog rolled away, the boundaries of our vision rapidly enlarged, and still no land could be seen, we began to feel seriously alarmed. A short period of intense and painful anxiety followed, during which we continued alternately gazing, and waiting for more light, and again straining our aching eyes in every direction, and still in vain.

At last it became evident that we had in some manner drifted completely away from the island. The appalling conviction could no longer be resisted. There we were, lost and helpless, on the open ocean, in our chip of a boat, without provisions for a single day, or, to speak more definitely, without a morsel of bread or a drop of water.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE CONSULTATION.

OUT OF SIGHT OF LAND--SLENDER RESOURCES--WHAT'S TO BE DONE?

"How rapidly, how rapidly, we ride along the sea!

The morning is all sunshine, the wind is blowing free; The billows are all sparkling, and bounding in the light, Like creatures in whose sunny veins, the blood is running bright."

Morton alone still refused to relinquish the hope, that by broad daylight, we should yet be able to make out the island. He persisted in p.r.o.nouncing it wholly incredible that we had made during the night, a distance sufficient to sink the land, which was but three or four miles off at the utmost, when we were overtaken by darkness; he could not understand, he said, how such a thing was possible.

Arthur accounted for it, by supposing that we had got into the track of one of the ocean currents that exist in those seas, especially among the islands, many of which run at the rate of from two to three miles an hour.

This seemed the more probable, from the fact, that we were to the west of the island, when we lost sight of it, and that the great equatorial current, which traverses the Pacific and Indian oceans, has a prevailing westerly course, though among the more extensive groups and cl.u.s.ters of islands, it is so often deflected hither and thither, by the obstacles which it encounters, or turned upon itself, in eddies or counter-currents, that no certain calculations can be made respecting it. Morton, however, did not consider this supposition sufficient to explain the difficulty.

"I should judge," said he, "that in a clear day, such an island might be seen fifteen or twenty miles, and we cannot have drifted so great a distance."

"It might perhaps be seen," said Arthur, "as far as that, from the mast-head of a ship, or even from her deck, but not from a small boat hardly raised above the surface of the water. At our present level, eight or ten miles would be enough to sink it completely."

At length, when it was broad day, and from the appearance of the eastern sky, the sun was just about to rise, Morton stepped the mast and climbed to the top, in the hope that from that additional elevation, slight as it was, he might catch a glimpse of land. There was by this time light enough, as he admitted, to see any thing that could be seen at all, and after making a deliberate survey of our whole horizon, he was fully convinced that we had drifted completely away from the island. "I give it up," he said, as he slid down the mast, "we are at sea, beyond all question."

Presently Max awoke. He cast a quick, surprised look around, and at first seemed greatly shocked. He speedily recovered himself, however, and after another, and closer, scrutiny of the horizon, thought that he detected an appearance like that of land in the south. For a moment there was again the flutter of excited hope, as every eye was turned eagerly in that direction; but it soon subsided. A brief examination satisfied us all, that what we saw, was but a low bank of clouds lying against the sky.

"This really begins to look serious," said I; "what are we to do?"

"It strikes me," replied Morton, "that we are pretty much relieved from the necessity of considering that question; our only part for the present seems to be a pa.s.sive one."

"I can't fully persuade myself that this is real," said Max; "it half seems like an ugly dream, from which we should awake by-and-by, and draw a long breath at the relief of finding it no more than a dream."

"We are miserably provisioned for a sea voyage," said Morton; "but I believe the breaker is half full of water; without that we should indeed be badly off."

"There is not a drop in it," said Arthur, shaking his head, and he lifted the breaker and shook it lightly--it was quite empty.

He now proceeded to force open the locker, in the hope of finding them something that might be serviceable to us; but its entire contents consisted of a coil of fine rope, some pieces of rope-yarn, an empty quart-bottle, and an old and battered hatchet-head.

Meanwhile, Browne, without a trace of anxiety upon his upturned countenance, and Johnny, who nestled close beside him, continued to sleep soundly, in happy unconsciousness of our alarming situation.

"Nothing ever interferes with the soundness of Browne's sleep, or the vigour of his appet.i.te," said Max, contemplating his placid slumbers with admiration. "I should be puzzled to decide whether sleeping, eating, or dramatic recitation, is his forte; it certainly lies between the three."

"Poor fellow!" said Morton, "from present appearances, and the state of our supplies, he will have to take it all out in sleeping, for some time to come, as it is to be presumed he'll hardly feel like spouting."

"One would think that what happened yesterday, and the condition of things as we left them last night, would be enough to disturb one's nerves somewhat; yet you see how little it affects him--and I now predict that the first thing he will say on opening his eye; will be about the means of breaking his long fast."

"I don't understand how you can go on in that strain, Max," said Arthur, looking up in a surprised manner, and shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Why, I was merely endeavouring to do my share towards keeping our spirits up; but I suppose any spirits got up under the present circ.u.mstances, must be somewhat forced, and as my motives don't seem to be properly appreciated, I will renounce the unprofitable attempt."

The sun rose in a clear sky, and gave promise of a hot day. There was, however, a cool and refreshing breeze, that scattered the spray from the foaming ridges of the waves, and occasionally showered us, not unpleasantly, with the fine liquid particles. A sea, breaking over our bow, dashed a bucket-full of water into Browne's face, and abruptly disturbed his slumbers.

"Good morning, comrades!" said he, sitting up, and looking about him with a perplexed and bewildered air. "But how is this? Ah! I recollect it all now. So then, we are really out of sight of land!"

"There is no longer any doubt of that," said Arthur, "and it is now time for us to decide what we shall do--our chance of falling in with a ship will be quite as good, and that of reaching land will of course be much better, if, instead of drifting like a log upon the water, we put up our sail, and steer in almost any direction; though I think there is a choice."

"Of course there is a choice," said Morton; "the island _cannot_ be at any great distance; and the probability of our being able to find it again is so much greater than that of making any other land, that we ought to steer in the direction in which we have good reason to think it lies--that is, to the east."

"The wind, for the last twelve hours, has been pretty nearly south,"

observed Arthur, "and has probably had some effect upon our position; we had better, therefore, steer a little south of east, which, with this breeze, will be easy sailing."

To this all a.s.sented, and the sail was hoisted, and the boat's head put in the direction agreed upon, each of us, except Johnny, sailing and steering her in turn. There was quite as much wind as our little craft could sail with to advantage, and without danger. As it filled her bit of canva.s.s, she careered before it, leaping and plunging from wave to wave, in a manner that sometimes seemed perilous. The bright sky above us, the blue sea gleaming in the light of morning, over which we sped; the dry, clear atmosphere, (now that the sun was up, and the mist dissipated), the fresh breeze, without which we must have suffered intensely from the heat; together with our rapid and bounding motion, had an exhilarating effect, in spite of the gloomy antic.i.p.ations that suggested themselves.

"After all," said Max, "why need we take such a dismal view of the matter? We have a fine staunch little boat, a good breeze, and islands all around us. Besides, we are in the very track of the beche de mer, and sandal-wood traders. It would be strange indeed, if we should fail to meet some of them soon. In fact, if it were not for thinking of poor Frazer, and of the horrible events of yesterday, (which, to be sure, are enough to make one sad), I should be disposed to look upon the whole affair; as a sort of holiday adventure--something to tell of when we get home, and to talk over pleasantly together twenty years hence."

"If we had a breaker of water, and a keg of biscuit," said Morton, "and could then be a.s.sured of fair weather for a week, I might be able to take that view of it; as it is, I confess, that to me, it has any thing but the aspect of a holiday adventure."

When Johnny awoke, Arthur endeavoured to soothe his alarm, by explaining to him that we had strong hopes of being able to reach the island again, and mentioning the various circ.u.mstances which rendered such a hope reasonable. The little fellow, did not, however, seem to be as much troubled as might have been expected. He either reposed implicit confidence in the resources, or the fortunes, of his companions, or else, did not at all realise the perils to which we were exposed. But this could not last long.

That which I knew Arthur had been painfully antic.i.p.ating, came at last.

Johnny, who had been asking Morton a mult.i.tude of questions as to the events of the previous day, suddenly said that he was very thirsty, and asked in the most unsuspecting manner for a drink of water. When he learned that the breaker was empty, and that we had not so much as a drop of water with us, some notion of our actual situation seemed to dawn upon him, and he became, all at once, grave and silent.

Hour after hour dragged slowly on, until the sun was in the zenith, with no change for the better in our affairs. It was now clear that we must give up the hope of reaching the island which we had left, for it was certain that we had sailed farther since morning than the boat could possibly have been drifted during the night, by the wind, or the current, or both combined. Our calculations at the outset must therefore have been erroneous, and we had not been sailing in the right direction. If so, it was too late to correct the mistake; we could not regain our starting-point, in order to steer from it another course. We now held a second consultation.

Although we had but a general notion of our geographical position, we knew that we were in the neighbourhood of scattered groups of low coral islands. From the Kingsmills we were to have sailed directly for Canton, and Max, Morton, and myself, would, before now, in all probability, have commenced our employment in the American factory there, but for Captain Erskine's sudden resolution to take the responsibility of returning to the Samoan Group, with the double object of rescuing the crew of the wrecked barque, and completing his cargo, which, according to the information received from the master of the whaler, there would be no difficulty in doing. From Upolu, we had steered a north-westerly course, and it was on the fourth or fifth day after leaving it, that we had reached the island where the mutiny took place, and which Mr Erskine claimed as a discovery of his own. Its lat.i.tude and longitude had of course been calculated, but none of us learned the result, or at any rate remembered it. We knew only, that we were at no great distance from the Kingsmills, and probably to the south-west of them.

Arthur was confident, from conversations had with Mr Frazer, and from the impressions left on his mind by his last examination of the charts, that an extensive cl.u.s.ter of low islands, scattered over several degrees of lat.i.tude, lay just to the south-east of us.

It was accordingly determined to continue our present course as long as the wind should permit, which there was reason to fear might be but a short time, as easterly winds are the prevailing ones within the tropics, as near the line as we supposed ourselves to be.

CHAPTER SIX.

THE CALM.