Part 24 (1/2)
he answered.
Mr McDonald replied, that he could not but say that this was the case, but that the lad had accompanied them, and they felt themselves answerable for his safe return.
The captain, however, would not listen, but continued shouting out his orders to the men, who obeyed them with more alacrity than usual.
I could not help thinking that they rejoiced at having thus easily got rid of Mark. For my own part I regretted not having run away also, and shared his fate, whatever that might have been. Had the distance not been so great, I should, even now, have jumped overboard and tried to join him. But the attempt would have been equivalent to suicide, and I dared not make it.
Away stood the s.h.i.+p out of the harbour, leaving my old friend all alone on the desert island. I pictured to myself his horror and disappointment at not seeing me; the miseries and hards.h.i.+ps he might endure for want of food and companions.h.i.+p, and his too probable early death. I went about my duty in a disconsolate mood. I had now no friend to talk to. Not one of the men appeared to pity me. Even Julius Caesar uttered no word of comfort. We soon lost sight of the Falkland Islands and shaped a course to round Cape Horn. The s.h.i.+p was now surrounded by albatrosses, penguins, and pintado birds. Several were shot, and others taken with a hook and bait. An enormous albatross was thus hauled in, and being brought on deck fought bravely for some time before it could be killed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
South Sea whaler--I write a letter home, and how far it got on its way there--The Earl of Lollipop--Mr McTavish saves me from a flogging--My prospects somewhat improve--Another storm--We lose another man--A struggle for life--Tierra del Fuego--Cape Horn--In the Pacific--The coast of Patagonia, and how we nearly got wrecked--Juan Fernandez-- Robinson Crusoe's Island--I again determine to run away, but am prevented by an offer I receive--”Shark! Shark!”--A narrow escape-- Valparaiso--Callao--Paita--The Sandwich Islands--The king and his court--Royal guests--Some queer dishes--Pooah--Am again prevented from deserting--Columbia River at last--A glimpse of freedom--A farewell dinner--An untoward incident--Once more a prisoner--My captors' fears my only safety--My friends give up the search--At sea again--My release--”Dis curious s.h.i.+p.”
We had left the island for some days, when we fell in with a homeward-bound South Sea whaler. As the ocean was calm, and the wind light, her captain came on board and politely offered to convey any message or letters home. ”Now,” I thought, ”will be an excellent opportunity of returning home. I'm sick of this life, and shall be glad to go back to Mr b.u.t.terfield's office and the high stool, and listen to Aunt Deb's lectures.” How to accomplish my purpose was the difficulty.
I went up to the captain of the whaler.
”I'm a gentleman's son,” I said; ”I came off to sea unintentionally, and I want to go home again.”
He gave a loud ”Whew!” as I said this.
”I can't take you, my lad, without your captain's leave,” he answered.
”If he gives it, I shall be happy to do so.”
Captain Longfleet just then came out of the cabin.
”I don't know how he came on board, but here he is and here he'll remain,” he said, as the captain of the whaler spoke to him. ”Go forward,” he said to me, ”and think yourself fortunate to escape a flogging for your impudence.”
However, I persevered, and turning to Mr McTavish, asked him kindly to say a word for me. Captain Longfleet in reply told him that he had no business to interfere.
”I've lost one boy through you gentlemen, and I'm not going to lose another,” he answered.
In vain Mr McDonald and the other gentlemen spoke to him; he replied in his usual rough way.
”I'm sorry, my lad, that I can't take you out of the s.h.i.+p without your captain's permission,” said the whaling captain; ”but if you'll get a letter scribbled off, I'll undertake to post it.”
I had neither paper, pens, nor ink, but Mr McTavish, hearing what was said, instantly brought me some, and I ran off into the berth to write it, hoping that I should be there undisturbed. I had great difficulty in penning the letter; and while I was kneeling down at the chest, old Growles came in and mocked at me, and another fellow asked me whether I was sending a love-letter to my dearie, and a third gave me a knock on the elbow, which spattered the ink over the paper and nearly upset the ink-bottle. Still I wrote on.
”s.h.i.+p 'Emu,' somewhere off Cape Horn.
”My dear Father,--I didn't intend to run away, but tumbled down into the hold and was carried off. When I came to myself I found that I was at sea, and could not get out of my prison. I lived there for I don't know how many days, till, when almost dead, I was released. I have been treated worse than a dog ever since by the captain, officers, and men.
He's a terrible tyrant and brute, and if it had not been for Mark Riddle--whom, wonderful to say, I found on board the s.h.i.+p--he and his mates would have been knocked on the head and hove overboard.
”I would much rather be seated on the high stool in Mr b.u.t.terfield's office than where I am. I wanted to return home, but the captain wouldn't let me. I intend, however, to run on the first opportunity, and to get back if I can. I tried to get away in the Falkland Islands, but was prevented. Mark succeeded, and was left behind. Whether he'll manage to live there I don't know, but I hope he will, and get back to Sandgate one of these days, I have no time to write more; so with love to mother, and my brothers and sisters, and even to Aunt Deb--
”I remain your affectionate son--
”Richard Cheveley.”
”PS--Please tell old Riddle all about his son.”
I hurriedly folded this letter, and addressed it to the Reverend John Cheveley, Sandgate, England; and having no wax, I sealed it with a piece of pitch which I hooked out of a seam in the deck. I rushed out, intending to give it into the hands of the captain of the whaler; but what was my dismay to see his boat pulling away from the s.h.i.+p. I shouted and waved my letter, thinking that he would return; but at that moment the third mate s.n.a.t.c.hed the letter out of my hand, and waved to the men in the boat to pull on. I turned round, endeavouring to recover the letter, but instead got a box on the ear. I made another s.n.a.t.c.h at it.