There wasn't a sound of life to be heard on board the barque, when about seven bells that night a flood of moonlight, shining softly o'er the sea, revealed the dark boats of the Somalis speeding out to the attack.

But every man on board was at his station.

This was to be a fight to the very death, and all hands knew it.

Nearer and nearer they come--those demon boats. The biggest boat of all is leading, and, sword in hand, Salook stands in the prow. It is crowded with savages, their spear-heads glittering in the moonbeams. On this boat the gun is trained.

The rocks re-echo the crash five seconds after, but the echo is mingled with the yelling of the wounded and the drowning.

Ah! a right merry feast for the sharks, and Salook goes down with the bottomless boat.

The fight does not end with this advantage. Those Somalis are like fiends incarnate. Not even the rifles and revolvers can repel their attack. See, they swarm on the bulwarks round the bows, for the ship has swung head on to the sh.o.r.e with the out-flowing tide.

"Give it to them. The water now, boys. Warm them well!"

Oh, horror! The shrieking is too terrible to be described.

In their boats the unwounded try to reach the sh.o.r.e; but the rifles play on these, and they are quickly abandoned, for the Somalis can swim like eels.

"Now for loot, lads," cries Tandy. "They began the row. Man and arm the boats."

When the _Sea Flower's_ men landed on the white sands, led on by Tandy and Ransey, the conquest was easy. A few volleys secured victory, and the savages were driven to their crags and hills.

"Let us spoil the Egyptians," said Tandy, "then we shall return and splice the main-brace."

The loot obtained was far more valuable than the cargoes they had obtained by barter, and I need hardly say that the main-brace _was_ spliced.

Towards morning the wind came puffing off the land. It ought to have died away at sunrise, but did not. So the _Sea Flower_ soon made good her offing, and before long the land lay like a long blue cloud far away on the weather-beam.

The ship was reprovisioned at Zanzibar, and one or two sick hands were allowed to land to be attended to at the French hospital.

In less than a fortnight she once more set sail, and in two months'

time, everything having gone well and cheerily, despite a storm or two, the _Sea Flower_ was very far at sea indeed, steering south-west, and away towards the wild and stormy Cape Horn.

On going on deck one morning, Halcott found Tandy forward, gla.s.s in hand, steadying himself against the foremast, while he swept the sea ahead.

"Hallo! Tandy. Land, eh?"

"No, it isn't land, Halcott. A precious small island it would be. But we're a long way to the west'ard of the Tristan da Cunha, and won't see land again till we hail the Falklands. Have a squint, sir."

"What do you make of her, sir?" asked Tandy.

"Why, a ship; but she's a hulk, Tandy, a mere hulk or derelict."

"There might be some poor soul alive there notwithstanding."

"I agree with you. Suppose we overhaul her," said Halcott, "and set her on fire. She's a danger to commerce, anyhow, and I'll go myself, I think."

So the whaler was called away, and in a few minutes the boat was speeding over the water towards the dismantled ship, while the _Sea Flower_, with her foreyard aback, lay floating idly on the heaving sea.

It was early summer just than, in these regions--that is, December was well advanced, and the crew were looking forward to having a real good time of it when Christmas came.

Alas! little did they know what was before them, or how sad and terrible their Christmas would be.

"Pull easy for a bit, men," cried Halcott; "she is a floating horror!

Easy, starboard! give way, port! We'll get the weather gauge on her, for she doesn't smell sweet."

Not a living creature was there to answer the hail given by Halcott.

Abandoned she evidently had been by the survivors of her crew, for the starboard boats still hung from her davits, while the ports were gone, and at this side a rope ladder depended.

The boat-hook caught on; with strange misgivings Halcott scrambled on board followed by two men.

He staggered and almost fell against the bulwark, and no wonder, for the sight that met his eyes was indeed a fearful one.

On the lower deck was a great pile of wood, and near it stood a big can of petroleum. It was evident that the crew had intended firing the ship before leaving her, but had for some reason or other abandoned the idea.

Halcott, however, felt that he had a duty to perform, so he gave orders for the paraffin to be emptied over the pile and over the deck. As soon as this was done lighted matches were thrown down, and hardly had they time to regain the boat and push off, ere columns of dark smoke came spewing up the hatchways, followed high into the air by tongues and streams of fire.

Before noon the derelict sank spluttering into the summer sea, and only a few blackened timbers were left to mark the spot where she had gone down.

A few days after this the wind fell and fell, until it was a dead calm.

Once more the sea was like molten lead, and its surface glazed and gla.s.sy, but never a bird was to be seen, and for more than a week not a cloud was in the sky as big as a man's hand. Nor was the motion of the ship appreciable. By day the sun shone warm enough, but at night the stars far in the southern sky shone green and yellow through a strange, dry haze.

On Sat.u.r.day night Tandy as usual gave orders to splice the main-brace.

He, and Halcott also, loved the real old Sat.u.r.day nights at sea, of the poet Dibdin's days. And hitherto, in fair weather or in foul, these had been kept up with truly British mirth and glee.

There was no rejoicing, however, on this particular evening, for two of the hands lay prostrate on deck. Halcott himself ministered to them, sailor fashion. First he got them placed in hammocks swung under a screen-berth on deck. This was for the sake of the fresh air, and herein he showed his wisdom.

Then he took a camp-stool and sat down near them to consider their symptoms. But these puzzled him; for while one complained of fierce heat, with headache, and his eyes were glazed and sparkling, the other was shivering and blue with cold. He had no pain except cramps in his legs and back, which caused him an agony so acute that he screamed aloud every time they came on.

Halcott went aft to study. He studied best when walking on his quarterdeck. Hardly knowing what he did, he picked up a bone that honest Bob had been dining off, and threw it into the sea. There was still light enough to see, and the man at the wheel looked languidly astern. When three monster sharks dived, nose on, towards the bone, he looked up into the captain's face.

"Seen them before?" said Halcott, who was himself superst.i.tious.

"Bless ye, yes, sir. It's just four days since they began to keep watch, and there they be again. Ah, sir! it ain't ham-bones they's a-lookin' arter. They'll soon get the kind o' meat they likes best."

"What mean you, Durdley?"

"I means the chaps you 'as in the 'ammocks. Listen, sir. There's no deceivin' Jim Durdley. We've got the plague aboard! I've been shipmate with she afore to-day."

Halcott staggered as if shot.

"Heaven forbid!" he exclaimed.

No one on board cared much for this man Durdley. Nor is this to be wondered at. In his own mess he was quarrelsome to a degree. Poor little Fitz fled when he came near him, and many a brutal blow he received, which at times caused fierce fights, for every one fore and aft loved the n.i.g.g.e.r boy.