The Ocean Waifs Part 27

"Say something! say what, Ma.s.sa Brace?"

"I mean a prayer."

"Prayer! wha's dat?"

"Surely, Snowy, you know what a prayer be?"

"Nebba heerd ob de ting,--nebba in all ma life!"

"Well, it be to say somethin' to Him as keeps watch up aloft,--either by way o' askin' for somethin' you want to get, or thankin' Him for what you ha' got arready. The first be called a prayer,--the t'other be a thanksgivin'. Thear ain't much difference, as I could ever see; tho'

I've heerd the s.h.i.+p's chaplain go through 'em both,--ay, scores o'

times; but the one as we want now be the thanksgivin'; an' I know little Will'm here can go through it like a breeze. Did you ever hear Will'm pray, Snowy?"

"Nebba! I tell ye, Ma.s.sa Brace, a nebba heer anybody pray in de fashun you 'peak 'bout. Ob coas, I hab heer de n.i.g.g.a talk to da Fetish, de which I, tho' I be a n.i.g.g.a maseff, nebba belieb'd in. Dis child no belieb in anyting he no see, an' he see many ting he no belieb in."

To this frank confession of faith on the part of the Coromantee Ben made no rejoinder that might signify either a.s.sent or opposition. His reply was rather a continuation of the train of thought that had led to his last interrogative.

"Ah, Snowy, if you heerd the lad! He do pray beautiful! Most equal to the parson, as we had aboard the frigate; an' he warn't slow at it, eyther. Do 'ee think, Will'm," continued the sailor, turning to the lad with an inquiring look, "do 'ee think ye can remember that prayer as is in the Church Sarvice, and which I've heerd the frigate chaplain go through,--specially after a storm,--as speaks about deliverin' us from all dangers by sea and by land? You've heerd it at home in the church.

D'ye think ye could gie it as?"

"O," answered William, "you mean the 'Thanksgiving for Deliverance from our Enemies.' Certainly I remember it. How could I forget what I've heard so many Sundays in church, besides often on week-days at home? O yes, Ben, I can repeat it, if you wis.h.!.+"

"I do, lad. Gie it us, then. It may do good. At all events, we _owe_ it, for what's been done to us. So take a reef out o' your tongue, lad, an' fire away!"

Notwithstanding the _bizarrerie_ of manner in which the request was made, the boy-sailor hesitated not to comply with it; and turning himself round upon his knees,--a movement imitated by all the others,-- he repeated that _thanksgiving_ of the Church Service, which, though well-known, is fortunately only heard upon very unfrequent occasions.

The thanksgiving appeared an appropriate finale to the toils and dangers of the day; and after it was offered up, s...o...b..ll, William, and Lalee lay down to rest,--leaving Ben Brace to attend to the steering-oar, and otherwise perform the duties of the dog-watch.

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

s...o...b..LL SEES LAND.

The man-o'-war's-man kept watch during the long hours of the night.

True to his trust, he attended to the steering-oar: and as the breeze continued to blow steadily in the same direction, the raft, under the double propulsion of the wind and the "line current," made considerable way to the westward.

A sort of filmy fog had arisen over the ocean, which hid the stars from sight. This might have rendered it impossible for the steersman to keep his course; but, under the belief that there was no change occurring in the direction of the wind, Ben guided himself by that, and very properly, as it afterwards proved.

Just before daybreak, he was relieved by s...o...b..ll; who entered upon his watch, at the same time taking his turn at the steering-oar.

Ben had not aroused the negro for this purpose; and he would have generously remained at his post until morning, had s...o...b..ll desired to prolong his slumbers.

The act of arousing himself was not altogether voluntary on the part of the negro; though neither was it the doing of his comrade. It was in consequence of a physical feeling--a cold s.h.i.+vering caused by the damp sea-fog--that s...o...b..ll had been disturbed from his sleep; and which, on his awaking, kept him for some minutes oscillating in a sort of ague, his ivories "dingling" against each other with a continuous rattle that resembled the clattering of some loose bolt in a piece of machinery out of repair.

It was some time before s...o...b..ll could recover his exact equilibrium; for, of all sorts of climate, that least endurable to the Coromantee negro is a cold one.

After repeated flopping his arms over his broad chest, and striking crosswise, until the tips of his fingers almost met upon the spinal column of his back, s...o...b..ll succeeded in resuscitating the circulation; and then, perceiving it was full time to take his turn at the helm, he proposed relieving the sailor.

This proposal was agreed to; Ben, before putting himself in a position for repose, giving s...o...b..ll the necessary directions as to the course in which the _Catamaran_ was to be kept.

In five minutes after, the sailor was asleep; and the sea-cook was the only one of the Catamarans who was conscious that the craft that carried them was only a frail structure drifting in mid-ocean hundreds of miles from land.

Little William was, perhaps, dreaming of his English, and Lilly Lalee of her African, home; while the sailor, in all probability, was fancying himself safely "stowed" in the forecastle of a British frigate, with all sail rightly set, and a couple of hundred jolly Jacks like himself stretched out in their "bunks" or swinging in their hammocks around him.

During the first hour of his watch, s...o...b..ll did not embarra.s.s his brain with any other idea than simply to follow the instructions of the sailor, and keep the _Catamaran_ before the wind.

There had been something said about keeping a look-out, in the hope of espying a sail; but in the dense fog that surrounded them there would be no chance of seeing the biggest s.h.i.+p,--even should one be pa.s.sing at an ordinary cable's length from the _Catamaran_.

s...o...b..ll, therefore, did not trouble himself to scan the sea on either side of their course; but for all that he kept the look-out enjoined on him by the sailor,--that is, he _kept it with his ears_!

Though a s.h.i.+p might not be seen, the voices of her crew or other sounds occurring aboard might be heard; for in this way the presence of a vessel is often proclaimed in a very dark night or when the sea is obscured by a fog.

Oftener, however, at such times, two s.h.i.+ps will approach and recede from one another, without either having been conscious of the proximity of the other,--meeting in mid-ocean and gliding silently past, like two giant spectres,--each bent on its own noiseless errand.

Daybreak arrived without the black pilot having heard any sound, beyond that of the breeze rustling against the sail of the _Catamaran_ or the hollow "sough" of the water as it surged against the empty casks lashed along their sides.

As the day broke, however, and the upper edge of the sun's disk became visible above the horizon,--the fog under the influence of his rays growing gradually but sensibly thinner,--a sight became disclosed to the eyes of s...o...b..ll that caused the blood to course with lightning quickness through his veins; while his heart, beating delightfully within his capacious chest, bounded far above the region of his diaphragm.

At the same instant he sprang to his feet, dropped the steering-oar, as if it had been a bar of red-hot iron; and, striding forward to the starboard bow of the _Catamaran_ stood gazing outward upon the ocean!

What could have caused this sudden commotion in both the mind and body of the Coromantee? What spectacle could have thus startled him?

It was the sight of _land_!

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.

IS IT LAND?

A sight so unexpected, and yet so welcome, should have elicited from him a vociferous announcement of the fact.

It did not. On the contrary, he kept silent while stepping forward on the deck, and for some time after, while he stood gazing over the bow.

It was the very unexpectedness of seeing land--combined with the _desirability_ of such a sight--that hindered him from proclaiming it to his companions; and it was some time before he became convinced that his senses were not deceiving him.

Though endowed with only a very limited knowledge of nautical geography, the negro knew a good deal about the lower lat.i.tudes of the Atlantic.

More than once had he made that dreaded middle pa.s.sage,--once in fetters, and often afterwards a.s.sisting to carry others across in the same unfeeling fas.h.i.+on. He knew of no land anywhere near where they were now supposed to be; had never seen or heard of any,--neither island, rock, nor reef. He knew of the Isle of Ascension, and the lone islet of Saint Paul's. But neither of these could be near the track on which the _Catamaran_ was holding her course. It could not be either.

And yet what was it he saw? for, sure as eyes were eyes, there was an island outlined upon the retina, so plainly perceptible, that his senses could _not be deceiving him_!

It was after this conviction became fully established in his mind, that he at length broke silence; and in a voice that woke his slumbering companions with a simultaneous start.

"Land 'o!" vociferated s...o...b..ll.

"Land ho!" echoed Ben Brace, springing to his feet, and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, "Land, you say, Snowy? Impossible! You must be mistaken, n.i.g.g.e.r."

"Land?" interrogated little William. "Whereaway, s...o...b..ll?"