Part 4 (2/2)

Meanwhile, Browne, without a trace of anxiety upon his upturned countenance, and Johnny, who nestled close beside him, continued to sleep soundly, in happy unconsciousness of our alarming situation.

”Nothing ever interferes with the soundness of Browne's sleep, or the vigour of his appet.i.te,” said Max, contemplating his placid slumbers with admiration. ”I should be puzzled to decide whether sleeping, eating, or dramatic recitation, is his forte; it certainly lies between the three.”

”Poor fellow!” said Morton, ”from present appearances, and the state of our supplies, he will have to take it all out in sleeping, for some time to come, as it is to be presumed he'll hardly feel like spouting.”

”One would think that what happened yesterday, and the condition of things as we left them last night, would be enough to disturb one's nerves somewhat; yet you see how little it affects him--and I now predict that the first thing he will say on opening his eye; will be about the means of breaking his long fast.”

”I don't understand how you can go on in that strain, Max,” said Arthur, looking up in a surprised manner, and shaking his head disapprovingly.

”Why, I was merely endeavouring to do my share towards keeping our spirits up; but I suppose any spirits got up under the present circ.u.mstances, must be somewhat forced, and as my motives don't seem to be properly appreciated, I will renounce the unprofitable attempt.”

The sun rose in a clear sky, and gave promise of a hot day. There was, however, a cool and refres.h.i.+ng breeze, that scattered the spray from the foaming ridges of the waves, and occasionally showered us, not unpleasantly, with the fine liquid particles. A sea, breaking over our bow, dashed a bucket-full of water into Browne's face, and abruptly disturbed his slumbers.

”Good morning, comrades!” said he, sitting up, and looking about him with a perplexed and bewildered air. ”But how is this? Ah! I recollect it all now. So then, we are really out of sight of land!”

”There is no longer any doubt of that,” said Arthur, ”and it is now time for us to decide what we shall do--our chance of falling in with a s.h.i.+p will be quite as good, and that of reaching land will of course be much better, if, instead of drifting like a log upon the water, we put up our sail, and steer in almost any direction; though I think there is a choice.”

”Of course there is a choice,” said Morton; ”the island _cannot_ be at any great distance; and the probability of our being able to find it again is so much greater than that of making any other land, that we ought to steer in the direction in which we have good reason to think it lies--that is, to the east.”

”The wind, for the last twelve hours, has been pretty nearly south,”

observed Arthur, ”and has probably had some effect upon our position; we had better, therefore, steer a little south of east, which, with this breeze, will be easy sailing.”

To this all a.s.sented, and the sail was hoisted, and the boat's head put in the direction agreed upon, each of us, except Johnny, sailing and steering her in turn. There was quite as much wind as our little craft could sail with to advantage, and without danger. As it filled her bit of canva.s.s, she careered before it, leaping and plunging from wave to wave, in a manner that sometimes seemed perilous. The bright sky above us, the blue sea gleaming in the light of morning, over which we sped; the dry, clear atmosphere, (now that the sun was up, and the mist dissipated), the fresh breeze, without which we must have suffered intensely from the heat; together with our rapid and bounding motion, had an exhilarating effect, in spite of the gloomy antic.i.p.ations that suggested themselves.

”After all,” said Max, ”why need we take such a dismal view of the matter? We have a fine staunch little boat, a good breeze, and islands all around us. Besides, we are in the very track of the beche de mer, and sandal-wood traders. It would be strange indeed, if we should fail to meet some of them soon. In fact, if it were not for thinking of poor Frazer, and of the horrible events of yesterday, (which, to be sure, are enough to make one sad), I should be disposed to look upon the whole affair; as a sort of holiday adventure--something to tell of when we get home, and to talk over pleasantly together twenty years hence.”

”If we had a breaker of water, and a keg of biscuit,” said Morton, ”and could then be a.s.sured of fair weather for a week, I might be able to take that view of it; as it is, I confess, that to me, it has any thing but the aspect of a holiday adventure.”

When Johnny awoke, Arthur endeavoured to soothe his alarm, by explaining to him that we had strong hopes of being able to reach the island again, and mentioning the various circ.u.mstances which rendered such a hope reasonable. The little fellow, did not, however, seem to be as much troubled as might have been expected. He either reposed implicit confidence in the resources, or the fortunes, of his companions, or else, did not at all realise the perils to which we were exposed. But this could not last long.

That which I knew Arthur had been painfully antic.i.p.ating, came at last.

Johnny, who had been asking Morton a mult.i.tude of questions as to the events of the previous day, suddenly said that he was very thirsty, and asked in the most unsuspecting manner for a drink of water. When he learned that the breaker was empty, and that we had not so much as a drop of water with us, some notion of our actual situation seemed to dawn upon him, and he became, all at once, grave and silent.

Hour after hour dragged slowly on, until the sun was in the zenith, with no change for the better in our affairs. It was now clear that we must give up the hope of reaching the island which we had left, for it was certain that we had sailed farther since morning than the boat could possibly have been drifted during the night, by the wind, or the current, or both combined. Our calculations at the outset must therefore have been erroneous, and we had not been sailing in the right direction. If so, it was too late to correct the mistake; we could not regain our starting-point, in order to steer from it another course. We now held a second consultation.

Although we had but a general notion of our geographical position, we knew that we were in the neighbourhood of scattered groups of low coral islands. From the Kingsmills we were to have sailed directly for Canton, and Max, Morton, and myself, would, before now, in all probability, have commenced our employment in the American factory there, but for Captain Erskine's sudden resolution to take the responsibility of returning to the Samoan Group, with the double object of rescuing the crew of the wrecked barque, and completing his cargo, which, according to the information received from the master of the whaler, there would be no difficulty in doing. From Upolu, we had steered a north-westerly course, and it was on the fourth or fifth day after leaving it, that we had reached the island where the mutiny took place, and which Mr Erskine claimed as a discovery of his own. Its lat.i.tude and longitude had of course been calculated, but none of us learned the result, or at any rate remembered it. We knew only, that we were at no great distance from the Kingsmills, and probably to the south-west of them.

Arthur was confident, from conversations had with Mr Frazer, and from the impressions left on his mind by his last examination of the charts, that an extensive cl.u.s.ter of low islands, scattered over several degrees of lat.i.tude, lay just to the south-east of us.

It was accordingly determined to continue our present course as long as the wind should permit, which there was reason to fear might be but a short time, as easterly winds are the prevailing ones within the tropics, as near the line as we supposed ourselves to be.

CHAPTER SIX.

THE CALM.

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