Salt Water Part 18

"In the coal-hole," blubbered out poor Bobby. "I never thought of doing harm to no one; but I can't live without eating. Oh! let me go back,-- oh! do, now."

"My order is to take you to the captain," replied Jabez, unmoved; and forthwith to the captain's cabin the unhappy Smudge was led captive.

He was soon, however, sent out again under charge of the sentry, and kept in durance vile till the next morning.

After breakfast the men were called aft; and the captain appeared on the quarter-deck with Bobby, in the same garb and condition in which he had been captured. He was truly a wretched object, as he stood trembling, and blubbering, and covered with coal dust and dirt, before all the crew.

"I have called you aft, my men, to show you how foolish you have been to allow yourselves to be frightened by the equally foolish trick of this miserable lad," said Captain Poynder. "I am not angry with you; but I wish you to learn, from this event, that all the ghosts you are ever likely to see will turn out to be no more ghosts than is this poor fellow at the present moment. He confesses that to avoid punishment, and in the hopes of ultimately escaping from the s.h.i.+p, he devised the scheme for making it appear that he had destroyed himself. He managed, it seems, to get a lump of coal in the forechains, and after heaving it into the water, and crying out that a man was overboard, to get in at a port, and to stow himself away in the coal-hole. Trusting to the superst.i.tion and folly which the people have exhibited, he thought he might venture out at night to supply himself with food. His plan succeeded; and had the story not come to my ears, I conclude he would have kept up the farce till the s.h.i.+p got into port. I ask, my men, do you think it possible that G.o.d, who made this mighty universe, and governs it by just and wise laws, would allow a mischievous imp, who could do no harm while alive, to return to earth, merely for the sake of wreaking his own petty malice, or for troubling and frightening a number of grown men such as you are. To believe such a thing is both wicked and absurd, for it is mistrusting G.o.d's wisdom and providence; and I hope, when you come calmly to consider the matter over, you will think as I do. I have another word to say, both to petty-officers and men.

The lad must have received much cruel treatment to make him attempt to escape from it by the expedient he followed. Remember, for the future, I will have no bullying. The discipline of the s.h.i.+p will be kept up far better by strict justice. Had it not been for this, I should have punished the lad severely for the prank he has played. As it is, he has pretty well suffered already. But beware. If anybody attempts to imitate his example, he will find I do not overlook the matter so easily. Now pipe down."

The captain's speech did much good in several ways. It put a stop to any outrageous bullying for some time; for the men knew perfectly well that what he threatened he would effectually carry out. It also tended to cure some of them of their superst.i.tious belief in ghosts and goblins.

"Well, I never heard the like afore," said Tom Barlow, as he and his messmate, Ned Trunnion, were talking over the affair of the previous day. "The skipper says as how there is no such thing as ghosts; and I suppose, seeing as how he has as much larning as a parson, he knows all about it. It don't come within my category, though."

"What he says is all s.h.i.+pshape," replied Ned. "I never yet met the man who really did see a ghost, though I've met scores who've heard of some one who's seen them, and for that matter come to fisticuffs with them; and certain sure I never see'd one myself till that young cheese-nibble made himself into one. Then, if he hadn't been found out, I'd have staked my davy that he was one in reality."

"That is what the captain says," I remarked, as I stopped a moment.

"All the ghosts which have been seen will turn out to be only shams after all."

But enough of Bobby Smudge and his ghost.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

LETTER FROM MY UNCLE--CHASE OF MYERS--SUPPOSED LOSS IN PORTLAND RACE-- GOOD ADVICE--THE ARIADNE MISSING--MR. VERNON'S ANXIETY.

Two days after this, much shorn of the pride and beauty with which we left it, we entered Malta harbour. As may be supposed, Mr Vernon hastened to the post-office as soon as he could get on sh.o.r.e. I accompanied him, with a note Captain Poynder had to send to the governor. His eye brightened as it glanced at the superscription of a letter which was handed to him. He read it over eagerly.

"I hope, sir, that you have good accounts from your friends," I said.

"They have had most provoking light winds and calms; and, when this letter was written, had not made good half the distance. Heaven grant that the _Ariadne_ may have escaped any squall such as crippled us."

"Indeed, sir, I trust so," I replied; but as he again turned to his letter, I made no further remark. I found a letter also for myself, to my no little surprise, for I thought no one would take the trouble of writing to me. I did not deserve a letter, I felt, for I had not written a line to any one since I left England. It was from my uncle.

I put it in my pocket, to read at my leisure when I returned on board.

It ran as follows:--

"My Dear Nephew,--As a word or two now and then from those who are deeply interested in your welfare, will but tend to keep them in your remembrance, and to cheer your spirits, should you find yourself surrounded by troubles or hards.h.i.+ps, your aunt and I hope occasionally to send you a sheet of paper, with an account of what is going on at home; and I must beg you in return to let us know how the world speeds with you. Your aunt and cousins are well, and one day pa.s.ses with them so like another, that I have little to tell of them. Terence grows apace, and seems resolved to go to sea. I will not baulk the lad of his wish when he is big enough; and I hope better times will come in the navy, both for you and him, than I have seen for some time past. I have given the cutter plenty of work, and have made several captures; but the prize I most covet, that villain Myers, has again slipped through my fingers. I must tell you all about it. It is supposed, indeed, that he has at length gone to render up his final account in another world; but even now I can scarcely believe but that he will yet turn up somewhere or another in this. I had received notice that he had been again seen in England, and that he had got command of a cutter of about sixty tons,--a very fast craft, which nothing could come up to; so, of course, I resolved to try and catch him. I soon found that he was visiting his old haunts. I conclude that he fancied no one would believe he would have the audacity to go there after all the crimes he had committed, and that therefore no one would be on the watch for him. He had succeeded in running two cargoes, and all the goods were got up to London. He had gone away for a third, and I learned that preparations were made to receive it in West Bay, not far from Beere. For two days and nights we had been cruising about, just far enough out not to be seen from the sh.o.r.e, in the best spot for cutting him off, when it came on to blow very hard from the north-west. It had blown long enough to kick up a heavy sea, when, just as it had gone three bells, in the middle watch, we caught sight of a cutter standing in for the sh.o.r.e, and going along at a tremendous rate, not the eighth of a mile to the eastward of us.

We were on the larboard tack; but we were instantly about, and in chase of her. We could just make her out through the darkness; but I do not think many eyes could have seen her, but those long accustomed to such work as ours. It was some time before she perceived us; for, from the way we were standing, we were end on to her. As soon, however, as she saw us, she kept away, and off she went like a shot before the wind. We packed everything on the cutter she could carry, and rather more canvas, as you may suppose, than under ordinary circ.u.mstances I should like to set; but the stranger, at all events, seemed resolved not to be outdone; and though by this time it was blowing half a gale of wind, had not only his whole mainsail, but his square-sail and gaff-topsail all set. This circ.u.mstance made me pretty certain that Myers was on board, for he knew well that a halter would be his lot if he was caught. I think he would have done better by keeping on a wind, for before the wind her larger size gave the _Serpent_ a decided advantage over him. After an hour's chase, if we had not overhauled him, he certainly had not increased his distance from us; and we had great hopes, should the wind increase, or the sea get up any more, that we should at last catch him. It was a trial of the strength of our sticks, and the goodness of our rigging. I had every confidence in ours; but I also knew that the smuggler would not fail to have got a tough stick for a mast, and sound rigging also.

Another half-hour pa.s.sed, and Hanks agreed with me that we were certainly gaining on the chase. To give us a chance of winging him, we now ran a gun forward; but with the heavy sea there was, and the way both vessels were pitching into it, there was very little probability that we should do so. We, however, fired several times; but with no effect. Only think! the fellow had the audacity to run out a couple of guns, and to return the fire. To be sure, it was his only chance of escaping; for if he could manage to knock away any of our spars, he would, he thought, show us a clean pair of heels. His practice was not a bit better than ours; indeed, it would only have been by chance that a shot could have hit its mark. However, we both of us kept blazing away at each other with hearty good-will. In the meantime the wind and sea, already high, were getting up very much. At any other time I should have hove the cutter to; but now, follow I must; and I hoped, from our greater power, we should be able to hold out the longest, and that at last the smuggler must give in. We were now nearing Portland Race, and never in my life had I observed the sea running higher on it than it now did. 'The fellows will never attempt to cross it,' observed Hanks: 'they'll be swamped if they do; and if they haul up to round it, we shall catch them to a certainty.' 'Cross it they will try, at all events,' I replied; 'they can never carry canvas on a wind, in a breeze and with a sea like this. See, they are standing into the very thickest of the breakers.' Sure enough, there was the cutter approaching the most dangerous part of the Race. The spring-tide was making down, and the wind, meeting it, threw the foaming breakers higher up than usual.

Still it was possible, if everything was battened down, that the cutter might shove through them. We all held our breath. If she got through, we also must follow. We had everything secured, and were better prepared than she was. On she went--her white sails appearing against the dark sky--her whole hull enveloped in foam. For some seconds she pushed on bravely. I never took my eye off her. Suddenly the white canvas seemed to bend low down--the breakers danced on as before. I rubbed my eyes, but without avail: the sail had disappeared. There was a cry of horror on board the cutter, but no shout of triumph, though our long-sought-for foe was no more. He and everybody on board must have been swallowed up in those foaming billows. We had barely time to shorten sail and to haul off, to avoid sharing the same fate; for I scarcely think, on that day, that even we could have run through the race. Some days after this I was on sh.o.r.e on Portland Bill, and the lighthouse-keeper told me that he had witnessed the catastrophe. He told me, also, that several planks and spars had shortly after come on sh.o.r.e, and with these the body of a man. When, however, he went down to the beach to look for the body, he could nowhere find it; so he concluded that it had been swept away by the tide. Such is the fate of the smuggler Myers, and certainly no one ever deserved it more richly.

I have no other events to narrate.

"I should like to give you some good advice, Neil; but I am so little accustomed to lecture others, I cannot find words to do it. I will try, however. Never forget that you were sent into this world to do your duty to Heaven and to man; not to amuse yourself, but to obey G.o.d's laws,--to prepare for another world, which will last for ever. Remember always that this world is only a place of trial--of probation. Trials of all sorts are sent on purpose to prove us. When man, through disobedience, fell, and sin entered the world, the devil was allowed to have power over him. He would have gained entire power, and man in his fallen state would have been inextricably lost for ever; but Christ in his mercy interfered, and by His obedience, His sufferings on earth,--by His death on the cross,--was accepted by G.o.d as a recompense for all sinners who believe in Him. By His resurrection, He became a mediator for us, showing us also that we too shall rise, like Him, from the dead, in the bodies in which we died. Thus a pure and just G.o.d, who cannot otherwise than hate sin, was able at the same time to show forth his justice and his mercy,--to punish those who go on in their wickedness, but to pardon those who believe in their great Mediator, and repent of their sins. I remind you of these important truths, Neil, because I know all men are too apt to forget them. Endeavour always to remember them, and I am sure that they will keep you from evil more than any other safeguards which I can offer you. I do not tell you, my boy, not to do this, or not to do that; but I remind you that Christ came down on earth, on account of the sins of mankind, to teach men His laws; that He suffered pain, toil, and disgrace, and a dreadful death; and that, in grat.i.tude to Him, we are bound to do our utmost to obey Him. Read your Bible constantly--not now and then, but every day; learn what His will is, and do your best to follow it. Remember, also, that the devil is ever at your elbow, endeavouring to persuade you not to follow it,-- telling you that sin is sweet and pleasant; that G.o.d will not be angry with you if you sin a little; that h.e.l.l is far off; that G.o.d would not be so cruel as to send you there; and that it is cowardly to be afraid.

Oh, my boy, let me entreat you to pray to G.o.d for grace to enable you to resist those temptations. Come they will, a.s.suredly; and never trust in your own strength to resist them. Christ will give you strength. Fly to Him in prayer. Go to your Bible,--read that, and you will be strong to resist all temptations. Of course, never mind what your companions may say or think on the subject. I ask, are you to be bia.s.sed by the opinions of poor, weak, sinful mortals; or to obey the laws of the great all-powerful G.o.d, who made the whole universe--the innumerable globes you see in the sky--the world we inhabit, with all its wonders--man, with his proud intellect--the animals of the forest, the birds of the air, the creeping things innumerable, scarcely the nature of one of which you can comprehend,--of the merciful Saviour, who died for you, and who is eager to preserve you and all who believe on him? Still I know that, with a full consciousness of G.o.d's greatness and goodness--of Christ's mercy--man is so weak that nothing but constant prayer for grace will enable him to keep in the right way. I feel, my dear nephew, that I could not write too much on this all-important subject; but still I must conclude. Keep my letter by you, and look at it at times when you are inclined to forget its advice. Your aunt joins me in earnest prayer for your welfare.

"Your affectionate uncle,--

"Terence O'Flaherty."

I am most grateful to my kind uncle for having sent this letter to me.

It had a very beneficial effect on my mind. I do not mean to say that at the time I received it I thought as seriously of its contents as I did afterwards; yet I tried somewhat to follow its advice,--not as I might have done; but I read my Bible more frequently, and prayed more earnestly than I had ever done before. I do not mean to say that I knelt down by the side of my hammock to pray, as those on sh.o.r.e are able to do by the side of their beds; but I found many an opportunity to offer up my prayers during a watch on deck at night, and on those occasions I felt more freedom and earnestness. Also I often would do so after I had turned into my hammock, and before I turned out in a morning. I own that when I was first observed to read my Bible I was frequently called by my messmates a Methodist and a saint, and d.i.c.ky Sharpe was especially liberal in his application of such epithets to me; but Adam Stallman soon silenced him as well as others.

"Let me ask you, Master d.i.c.ky, what you mean by a Methodist?" he inquired. "If it is applied to a man who acts the part of a consistent Christian, and does his duty methodically--with system, and not by fits and starts,--it is a very high compliment you pay him; and as for the term saint, let me a.s.sure you that those who do not become saints have their souls in a very perilous condition."

These remarks of Stallman's, though my young messmate tried to look unconcerned and indifferent to them at the time, had, I believe, a very beneficial effect on him. I will not, however, dwell longer on this subject, important though it is, or my readers may declare that, instead of writing my adventures for their amus.e.m.e.nt, I am giving them a book of sermons. I will not do that; but still I must urge them to pay attention to what I have said--never to be ashamed of their religion; far, far rather to be proud of it, and ever to make G.o.d's word the rule of their conduct.--To return to my narrative. The repairs of the frigate having been completed, we once more put to sea, and made sail for Tripoli and Tunis. Our poor Italian master, Signor Mezzi, had declared most positively that nothing would ever again tempt him to venture on the treacherous ocean; but a few weeks on the smooth water of Malta harbour had wonderfully rea.s.sured him, and he continued therefore with us, to our somewhat problematical benefit. Nothing occurred on our pa.s.sage to and from those places.

We were once more entering Malta harbour. Mr Vernon at once went on sh.o.r.e, and I again accompanied him. He repaired to the post-office, but there were, to his evident disappointment, no letters for him. He considered for a moment. "We'll go to the agents of the _Ariadne_; she must have arrived at Gibraltar long before the last mails left."

The agent's office was close to the harbour. We threaded our way to it among bales, and casks, and packages.

The senior partner, Mr Dunnage, received us very politely; and when Mr Vernon inquired for the brig, his countenance a.s.sumed a grave look.

"We must hope for the best," he replied; "but she is, I own, very long overdue, and we have had no tidings whatever of her. She may have put into some little-frequented port, with the loss of her spars or masts, and the master may not have been able to communicate with us."

"Nay, I am sure it must be so," he continued, seeing the agitation into which the information had thrown my lieutenant.

"Was the master a steady and good seaman?" asked Mr Vernon, in a voice husky with emotion.

"Not a steadier man nor a better seaman comes to this port," replied Mr Dunnage. "If his craft was caught by a squall, or got into any other difficulty, I am sure he would have done all that could be done for her."

"We fell in with a terrific squall soon after she was at sea," mused Mr Vernon. "Heaven grant that she was not exposed to it."

"It is impossible to say," answered the merchant in a kind tone. "I feel more than usually anxious, on account of her pa.s.sengers, I own.

Sailors are accustomed to hards.h.i.+ps; they expect to meet them in their career; and they are aware, when they go afloat, that they must be prepared to lose their lives in the gale or the battle."

Mr Vernon shuddered. He began to realise the possibility of the loss-- the dreadful death of her he loved. Still he was a right-minded, brave man, and what is more, a sincere Christian; and he resolved not to give way to despair.

Mr Dunnage perceived, at length, the effect his information had produced, and he now did his best to mitigate the anxiety of my lieutenant, entering warmly into all his plans for gaining information as to the fate of the brig.

It was agreed that he should write round to all the ports on the sh.o.r.es of the Mediterranean, near which it was possible the _Ariadne_ could have been driven; and that his correspondents there should send boats along the coast from port to port, so that no part should remain unexplored.

"I should advise you also to see the Admiral; he will, I am sure, take a warm interest in the matter."

No sooner said than done. When sensible men are in earnest about an affair, they do not lose time by talking, the plan of action being at once decided on.

Mr Dunnage having penned the draft of a circular letter to be sent to the ports, left it to be copied by his clerks, while we set forth to see the Admiral, who was, fortunately, at Malta.

The worthy old man at once entered into all the proposed plans for searching for the brig, and suggested others.

"We'll send the _Harold_ to sea at once; and I'll despatch all the small craft I can spare on the search. Stay,--you shall take an order to Captain Poynder to sail forthwith. I suppose he's ready to go?" said he to Mr Vernon.

"We are well supplied with provisions, and can soon fill up with water; we can be off this evening, I know," replied Mr Vernon.

"Away with you! and may your search be prosperous," said the Admiral, with much feeling.

The order to go to sea again was at first received with no little surprise on board; but the fact that the _Ariadne_ was missing being generally known on sh.o.r.e, and the blue-peter being hoisted, the officers who had gone on leave came hurrying back.

That night, with a fine breeze we had run Malta out of sight.