"It is too dreadful to believe! Is not G.o.d, our Father in heaven? He will not surely let us perish so miserably."

"_Yes_, Johnny," said Arthur gently, but earnestly, "G.o.d is our heavenly Father; but we must not make our belief in his love and goodness, a ground of confidence that any suffering, however terrible, shall not befall us. The young suffer and die, as well as the old; the good, as well as the bad. Not only the strong martyrs, who triumphed while they were tortured, but feeble old men, and little children, have been torn in pieces by wild beasts, or burned alive, or cast down precipices. And these things, that seemed so very hard to us, G.o.d has permitted. Yet he is good, and loves and cares for us as a father. This we must believe, and hold fast to, in spite of every thing that in our ignorance may seem to contradict it. If we feel as we ought, and as by his grace we may, we shall be able to trust all to him, with sweet resignation."

"But is it not very hard, dear Arthur, to be left to die so!--and G.o.d can save us so easily, if he will."

Arthur was deeply affected: the tears filled his eyes as he took Johnny upon his knee, and tried to explain to him how wrong and selfish it would be, to make our belief in the goodness of G.o.d, depend upon our rescue and preservation. It was a difficult task, perhaps an untimely one, as Max hinted. But Johnny gradually sobbed away his excitement, and became soothed and calm.

"Well," said he, after a while, drawing a long breath, and wiping away his tears, "I know one thing: whatever may happen, we will be kind and true to one another to the last, and never think of such inhuman things as I have read of shipwrecked people doing, when nearly dead with hunger, though we all starve together."

"Come to me, Johnny," cried Browne, with a faltering voice, "I must kiss you for those words. Yes, we will perish, if we must, like brothers, not sullenly, as if none had ever suffered evil before us. Weak and gentle spirits have borne without repining, sufferings as great as threaten us. Often has my mother told me the story of sweet Marjory Wilson, drowned in the Solway water, in the days of Claverhouse, because she met with her friends and kindred to worship G.o.d after their manner-- and never could I listen to it without tears. Ah, what a spirit was there! She was but eighteen, and she could have saved her life by saying a few words. Life was as sweet to her as it is to us: she too had a home and friends and kindred, whom it must have been hard for the poor young thing to leave so suddenly and awfully. And yet she refused to speak those words--she chose to die rather. They took her out upon the sand where the tide was rising fast, and bound her to a stake. Soon the water came up to her face. She saw it go over the head of a poor old woman, whom they had tied farther out than herself. She saw her death struggles; she heard her gasp for breath, as she choked and strangled in the yellow waves. Ah! she must have had courage from the Lord, or that sight would have made her young heart fail. Once more, and for the last time, the king's officer asked her to make the promise never to attend a conventicle again. He urged it, for he pitied her youth and innocence. Her friends and neighbours begged her to save her life. 'O speak, dear Marjory!' they cried, 'and make the promise; it can't be wrong. Do it for our sakes, dear Marjory, and they will let you go!' But she would not save her life by doing what she had been taught to think was wrong; and while the swirling waves of the Solway were rising fast around her, she prayed to G.o.d, and kept singing fragments of psalms, till the water choked her voice--and so she perished. But, O friends! to know that such things have been; that spirits gentle and brave as this have lived, makes it easier to suffer courageously."

"Horrible!" exclaimed Max, "I seem to see all that you have so graphically told. But how stern and cruel the teachers who would sacrifice human life rather than abate their own sullen obstinacy, even in trifles--who could encourage this innocent but misguided girl, in her refusal to save her life by the harmless promise to attend a church instead of a conventicle."

Just as Browne was commencing an eager and indignant reply to Max's rash reflections upon the strictness of covenanting teachings, we were suddenly startled by a deep and solemn sound, which seemed to come from a distance. While we listened intently, it was several times repeated at short intervals of about fifteen seconds, each time more distinctly than before. It resembled somewhat, the deepest tones of a powerful organ, heard for an instant, and then abruptly stopped. Nothing was to be seen in the direction from which it seemed to proceed, but the sea glittering in the moonlight. Is it to be wondered at, if we listened with feelings, tinged with superst.i.tious awe, to that strange sound, heard under such circ.u.mstances, and at such an hour? Johnny nestled closer to Arthur's side, and I thought that the faces of my companions grew visibly pale. Even Arthur looked perplexed and disturbed.

"What _can_ that be?" said Morton, after a few minutes of almost breathless silence, during which we had listened in vain for its repet.i.tion.

"It is certainly very strange," said Arthur. "I never heard any thing at sea, at all like it, but once, and it is impossible that this can be what I then heard--but hark!" And again the same deep pealing sound was repeated several times, at shorter intervals, but more faintly than before; after continuing for a few minutes it ceased again.

"What was the sound which you speak of, as resembling this?" asked Morton, when all was silent once more.

"It was the cry of a kind of penguin, found at the Falkland Islands; when heard on sh.o.r.e it is harsh and loud; but a short distance at sea, and in the night, it has a pealing, solemn sound, like that which we have just heard."

"It must come from land in the neighbourhood," said Morton, "we can probably hear farther on such a night as this than we can distinguish land."

"Yes, sounds on the water, in calm still nights, when there is no wind, can be heard at great distances," said Arthur; "it is said that the 'All's well!' of the British sentinel at Gibraltar, is sometimes heard across the strait, on the African sh.o.r.e, a distance of thirteen miles.

I have seen, at the Society Islands, native drums made of large hollow logs, which might perhaps, at a distance, sound like what we heard a moment ago. A Wesleyan missionary there, once told me of a great drum that he saw at the Tonga Islands, called the 'Tonga Toki,' which sounded like an immense gong, and could be heard from seven to ten miles."

"Why, I thought that _this_ sounded like a gong," said Johnny, "perhaps we are near some island now; but what could they be drumming for so late in the night?"

"There would be nothing very unusual about that," said Arthur. "The Areoi Societies, which are extended over most of the larger inhabited islands in this part of the Pacific, sometimes hold their great celebrations, like the pow-wows, and war-dances, of our American Indians, in the night-time. At the Feejee Islands they have a strange ceremony called 'Tambo Nalanga,' which they celebrate at night, with the beating of drums, the blowing of conches, and a number of savage and cruel rites. Something or other of the same kind is observed at most of the islands, though under different names, and with slight variations."

While speculating in this way, and endeavouring to account for the noise which had startled us so much, we all at once became aware of an increasing light in the south, the 'Cross,' now half-way between the horizon and the zenith, enabling us to fix the points of the compa.s.s.

As we gazed in that direction, the sky became strongly illuminated by a red glare, and an immense column of flame and smoke was seen shooting up in the distance. Nothing but the expanse of the ocean, splendidly illuminated, and glowing like a sea of fire, could be discerned by this light. Whether it was caused by a burning ship, at such a distance that nothing but the light of her conflagration was visible, or by a fire on some distant island, we could not determine. It was in the same quarter from which the sound had seemed to come.

Arthur was now of the opinion that we were in the neighbourhood of an inhabited island, or group, and that the light proceeded from the burning beche-de-mer house of some successful trader, who had set fire to it, (as is their custom at the end of a prosperous season), to prevent it from falling into the hands of others in the same business.

We all grasped eagerly at this idea, for the probability that we were not only in the neighbourhood of land, but of a place where we should meet with Europeans, and have an opportunity of getting home, or perhaps to the places of our respective destination, was full of encouragement.

In a very short time the conflagration was over, and a dark column of smoke, which marked the spot where it had raged, was lifted slowly into the air. We heard no more of the mysterious sound. None of the explanations suggested were so perfectly satisfactory, as to remove entirely the unpleasant impression which it had produced. Before lying down in our accustomed places, we made our usual arrangements as to the watch, unnecessary as it seemed, during the calm.

CHAPTER NINE.

DARK WATERS.

SUFFERING AND DELIRIUM--THE MIDNIGHT BATH--A STRANGE PERIL.

"Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, everywhere-- But not a drop to drink."

Several times in the course of the night, I was awakened by confused noises, like the blowing of porpoises, or the spouting of whales; but the sky had become overcast, and it had grown so dark, that on getting up and looking about, I could see nothing of the creatures producing these sounds. My slumbers were broken and uneasy, and in the morning I found myself suffering from a dull, heavy pain in the head, accompanied by a slight nausea, and a general feeling of languor and weakness. Even to get upon my feet required something of an effort, which I made, impelled rather by a dim, confused sense of duty, than by any spontaneous impulse or inclination: had I consulted inclination alone, I believe I should have remained pa.s.sive, and let things take their course.

The occurrences of the last night had given rise to some faint expectation that by daylight we should discover land in sight to the southward, where we had seen the great light. But nothing was visible in that or any other quarter. Possessed by some hope of this kind, Arthur had been up, searching the horizon, since the first streak of day in the east. He showed me a large green branch which he had picked up as it floated near us. By the elegantly scolloped leaves, of a dark and glossy green, it was easily recognised as a branch of the bread-fruit tree; and from their bright, fresh colour, and the whiteness of the wood, where it had joined the trunk, it must have been torn off quite recently. The calm still continued. Immense schools of black-fish, or porpoises, or some similar species, could be seen about half a mile distant, pa.s.sing westward, in an apparently endless line. The temporary beneficial effect of yesterday's scanty supply of food and drink, had pa.s.sed away entirely, and all seemed to feel in a greater or less degree, the bodily pain and weakness, and the la.s.situde and indisposition to any kind of effort, by which I was affected. To such an extent was this the case, that when Arthur proposed that we should row towards the school of fish in sight, and try to take some of them, the strongest disinclination to make any such attempt was evinced, and it was only after much argument and persuasion, and by direct personal appeals to us individually, that he overcame this strange torpor, and induced us to take to the oars.

On getting near enough to the objects of our pursuit to distinguish them plainly, we were sorry to find that they were Porpoises instead of black-fish, as we had at first supposed; the former being shy and timid, and much more difficult to approach than the latter; and so they proved at present. Still we persevered for a while; the hope of obtaining food having been once excited, we were almost as reluctant to abandon the attempt as we had been at first to commence it. But after half an hour's severe labour at the oars, we were obliged to give it up as quite hopeless, and soon afterward the last of the long column pa.s.sed beyond pursuit, leaving us completely disheartened and worn out. The sail was again arranged so as to shelter us as much as possible from the sun, and Arthur commenced distributing the leaves and twigs of the bread-fruit branch, suggesting that some slight refreshment might perhaps be derived from chewing them. But they retained a saline taste from having been in the sea-water, and no one proceeded far with the experiment. Morton cut some small slips of leather from his boots, and began to chew them. He fancied that they afforded some nourishment, and recommended the rest of us to make a similar trial, which I believe we all did. Max almost immediately rejected with disgust the first morsel which he put into his mouth, saying that he must "starve a little longer before he could relish that." At noon the heat was more intense, if possible, than it had been the day before. Johnny was now in a high fever, accompanied by symptoms of an alarming character. It was distressing to witness his sufferings, and feel utterly unable to do any thing for him. Yet there was nothing that we could do--food and drink were the only medicines he needed, and these we could not give him. Towards the close of the afternoon he became delirious, and began to cry out violently and incessantly for water. His voice seemed to have changed, and could now scarcely be recognised. There was something very strange and horrible in the regular, unceasing cries which he uttered, and which sounded at times almost like the howlings of a brute. Arthur had made a sort of bed for him, to which each of us contributed such articles of clothing as could be spared. It was now necessary to watch him every moment and frequently to use force to keep him from getting overboard. At one time, having got to the side of the boat, before he could be prevented, he commenced dipping up the sea-water with his hand, and would have drunk it had he not been forcibly restrained. After this had lasted nearly two hours, he suddenly ceased his struggles and violent cries, and began to beg piteously for "a drink of water." This he continued for a considerable time, repeatedly asking Arthur to tell him _why_ he could not have "just a little," since there was "such a plenty of it."

It is impossible to describe the horrible and sickening effect of all this upon us, in the state of utter physical prostration to which we had been gradually reduced. Browne and Arthur watched over Johnny with all the care and patient unwearying kindness that a mother could have shown; and they would not permit the rest of us to relieve them for a moment, or to share any part of their charge, painful and distressing as it was.

Twice, when it became necessary to hold the little sufferer fast, to prevent him from getting over the gunwale, he spat fiercely in Arthur's face, struggling and crying out with frightful vehemence. But Browne's voice seemed to soothe and control him, and when Johnny spoke to him, it was gently, and in the language of entreaty. Towards night he became more quiet, and at last sunk into a kind of lethargy, breathing deeply and heavily, but neither speaking nor moving, except to turn from one side to the other, which he did at nearly regular intervals.

This change relieved us from the necessity of constantly watching and restraining him, but Arthur viewed it as an unfavourable and alarming symptom; he seemed now more completely depressed than I had ever before seen him, and to be overcome at last by grief, anxiety, and the horrors of our situation.

The heat did not abate in the least with the going down of the sun, but the night, though very close and sultry, was calm and beautiful, like the last. Soon after the moon rose, Max and Morton undressed, and bathed themselves in the sea. The smooth moonlit water looked so cool and inviting, that the rest of us soon followed their example, notwithstanding the danger from sharks. We were all good swimmers, but no one ventured far from the boat except Morton; I found that a few strokes quite exhausted me, and I was obliged to turn and cling to the gunwale. In fact, so great was the loss of strength which we had all suffered, that we came near perishing in a very singular and almost incredible manner: After having been in the water a sufficient time, as I thought, I discovered, on trying to get into the boat again, that I was utterly unable to do so, through sheer weakness. At the same time I observed Max making a similar attempt nearer the stern, with no better success. We were all in the water except Johnny; any difficulty in getting into the boat again had not been dreamed of; but I began now to feel seriously alarmed. My feet were drawn forcibly under the boat's bottom, and even to maintain my hold of the gunwale, as we rose and sunk with the swell, required an exhausting effort, which I knew I could not long continue. Arthur was swimming near the stern, holding on to the end of a rope, which he had cast over before coming in. By great exertion I raised myself so far as to be able to look over the gunwale, when I saw Browne in the same position directly opposite me.

"Can't you get into the boat!" I asked.

"Really, I don't think I can," said he, speaking like a person exhausted.

"I can't," added Max, faintly, "it is as much as I can do to maintain my hold." At this moment a voice was heard, calling out apparently from a distance, "Hilloa! where are you? Hilloa!" It was hoa.r.s.e, strained, and distressed. Almost immediately the cry was repeated, much nearer at hand, as it seemed; and then, a third time, faint, and distant as at first. I was horror-stricken; the cry sounded strange and fearful, and I did not recognise the voice. Then it occurred to me that it must be Morton, who had swum out farther than the rest, and losing sight of the boat for a moment in the swell of the sea, had become bewildered and alarmed. This might easily happen; if but the length of a wave distant we should be invisible to him, unless both should chance to rise on the swell at the same time. The moon, too, had just pa.s.sed behind a dark ma.s.s of cloud, and the sea lay in partial obscurity. I now heard Browne and Arthur shouting, in order, as I supposed, to guide Morton by the sound of their voices. I, too, called out as loudly as I was able. For a moment all was still again. Then I heard some one say, "There he is!"

and a dark speck appeared on the crest of a wave a little to the right.

At this moment the moon shone out brightly! and I saw that it was Morton, swimming toward us. He reached the boat panting and out of breath, and catching hold near me with an almost convulsive effort, remained some minutes without being able to speak a word. Arthur, who had observed Max's struggles to get into the yawl, now swam round to where Morton and I were hanging on, and taking hold also, his additional weight depressed the gunwale nearly to the water's edge, when he got his knee over it, and at last, by a sudden effort rolled into the boat. He then helped me to get in, and we two the rest.

Morton said that after swimming but a short distance from the boat, as he supposed, he found himself getting tired and very weak, and on turning, greatly to his surprise, could see nothing of us. In reality, however, there was nothing surprising in this, his face being on a level with the surface, and the boat with neither sail nor mast up, being much less in height than the long smooth swells. Perceiving how great was his danger, and becoming somewhat alarmed, he had called out in the manner described: when he heard us shouting in return, he was actually swimming _away_ from us, and it was only by following the direction of our voices that he had at last reached the boat.

That night we kept no regular watch as we had hitherto done, or at least we made no arrangement for that purpose, though one or another of us was awake most of the time, watching Johnny, who continued, however, in the same deep lethargic slumber.

For my part, it was a long time before I could sleep at all. There was something in the fate that threatened us, more appalling than the terrors of death. The impressions produced by the ravings, and cries, and struggles, of our poor little fellow-sufferer were yet fresh, and they could not be effaced. All in vain I strove to control the workings of my morbidly excited imagination--I could not shut out the fearful thoughts and antic.i.p.ations which the occurrences of the day so naturally and obviously suggested. The lapse of twenty-four hours might find us all reduced to the same helpless state, deprived of consciousness and reason. One after another must succ.u.mb to the fever and become delirious, until he who should last fall its victim, should find himself alone in the midst of his stricken and raving companions--alone retaining reason, no longer to be accounted a blessing, since it could only serve to make him sensible to all the acc.u.mulated horrors of his situation. I shuddered as I contemplated the possibility that I might be the most wretched one, the last of all to sink and perish. At length, I began to imagine that my mind was actually beginning to fail, and that I was becoming delirious. At first it was but a fearful suspicion. Soon, however, it took such strong possession of me, that I was compelled to relinquish all thought of sleep. Sitting up, I saw that Arthur was awake and by the side of Johnny. His face was upturned, and his hands clasped as if in prayer. I could see his lips move, and even the tears trickling from beneath his closed lids, for the moonlight fell upon his countenance. He did not observe me, and after a few moments he laid down again without speaking, and soon appeared to slumber like the rest.

Pressing my hands to my head, I leaned over the stern, my face almost touching the water. A current of cooler air was stirring close to the surface, as if it were the breathing of the sea, for there was no wind.

How preternaturally still every thing seemed--what an intensity of silence! How softly the pale moonlight rested upon the water! A grand and solemn repose wrapped the heavens and the ocean--no sound beneath all that vast blue dome--no motion, but the heaving of the long sluggish swell. Gradually I became calmer; the excitement and perturbation of my mind began to subside, and at length I felt as though I could sleep. As I resumed my place by the side of Browne, he moved, as if about to awake, and murmured indistinctly some broken sentences. From the words that escaped him, he was dreaming of that far-off home which he was to behold no more. In fancy he was wandering again by the banks of the Clyde, the scene of many a school-boy ramble. But it seemed as though the shadow of present realities darkened even his dreams, and he beheld these familiar haunts no longer in the joyous light of early days. "How strange it looks!" he muttered slowly, "how dark the river is--how deep and dark!--it seems to me it was not so _then_, Robert." Truly, companion in suffering, this is no falsely coloured dream of thine, for we have all come at last into deep and dark waters!

CHAPTER TEN.

A SAIL.

THE CACHELOT AND HIS a.s.sAILANTS--THE COURSE--NEW ACQUAINTANCES.

"Strange creatures round us sweep: Strange things come up to look at us, The monsters of the deep."

The first thought that flashed through my mind with returning consciousness, in the morning, was, "This is the last day for hope-- unless relief comes to-day in some shape, we must perish." I was the first awake, and glancing at the faces of my companions lying about in the bottom of the boat, I could not help shuddering. They had a strange and unnatural look--a miserable expression of pain and weakness. All that was familiar and pleasant to look upon, had vanished from those sharpened and haggard features. Their closed eyes seemed singularly sunken; and their matted hair, sunburned skin, and soiled clothing, added something of wildness to the misery of their appearance.

Browne, who had slept beside me, was breathing hard, and started every now and then, as if in pain. Johnny slumbered so peacefully, and breathed so gently, that for a moment I was alarmed, and doubted whether he was breathing at all, until I stooped down and watched him closely.

There were still no indications of a breeze. A school of whales was visible about a quarter of a mile to the westward, spouting and pursuing their unwieldy sport; but I took no interest in the sight, and leaning over the gunwale, commenced bathing my head and eyes with the sea-water.

While thus engaged I was startled by seeing an enormous cachelot, (the sperm-whale), suddenly break the water within fifteen yards of the boat.

Its head, which composed nearly a third of its entire bulk, seemed a mountain of flesh. A couple of small calves followed it, and came swimming playfully around us. For a minute or two, the cachelot floated quietly at the surface, where it had first appeared, throwing a slender jet of water, together with a large volume of spray and vapour into the air; then rolling over upon its side, it began to lash the sea with its broad and powerful tail, every stroke of which produced a sound like the report of a cannon. This roused the sleepers abruptly, and just as they sprang up, and began to look around in astonishment, for the cause of so startling a commotion, the creature cast its misshapen head downwards, and, throwing its immense flukes high into the air, disappeared. We watched anxiously to see where it would rise, conscious of the perils of such a neighbourhood, and that even a playful movement, a random sweep of the tail, while pursuing its gigantic pastime, would be sufficient to destroy us. It came to the surface at about the same distance as before, but on the opposite side of the boat, throwing itself half out of the water as it rose: again it commenced lashing the sea violently, as if in the mere wanton display of its terrible strength, until far around, the water was one wide sheet of foam. The calves still gambolled near us, chasing each other about and under the yawl, and we might easily have killed one of them, had we not been deterred by the almost certain consequences of arousing the fury of the old whale.

Meantime, the entire school seemed to be edging down towards us. There was not a breath of air, and we had no means of getting out of the way of the danger, to which we should be exposed, if among them, except by taking to the oars; and this, nothing short of the most pressing and immediate peril could induce us to do. But our attention was soon withdrawn from the herd, to the singular and alarming movements of the individual near us. Rushing along the surface for short distances, it threw itself several times half clear of the water, turning after each of these leaps, as abruptly as its unwieldy bulk would permit, and running a tilt with equal violence in the opposite direction. Once, it pa.s.sed so near us, that I think I could have touched it with an oar, and we saw distinctly its small, dull eye, and the loose, wrinkled, folds of skin, about its tremendous jaws. For a minute afterwards, the boat rolled dangerously in the swell caused by the swift pa.s.sage of so vast an object. Suddenly, after one of these abrupt turns, the monster headed directly towards us, and came rushing onward with fearful velocity, either not noticing us at all, or else mistaking the boat for some sea-creature, with which it designed to measure its strength.

There was no time for any effort to avoid the danger; and even had there been, we were too much paralysed by its imminence, to make such an effort. The whale was scarcely twelve yards off--certainly not twenty.