Part 35 (1/2)
”It is a very sad case, I fear. Soon after we sailed, Mrs Mizen received notice of Tom Mizen's illness, and the next post brought out such alarming accounts that she and her daughter resolved at once to return home. A fine fast-sailing merchant-brig, the 'Success,' was on the point of sailing, so, as a journey by land through Italy and France would be injurious to Laura, they determined to go by her. What was their surprise on going on board to find the other berths occupied by Mrs Seton and her daughter, and Mrs Skysc.r.a.per, who, for some business matters connected with property left them, had to go England. Miss Mizen wrote as they were on the point of sailing, and the people of the house took charge of the letter to deliver to me. She speaks in favourable terms of the brig and of the master, Captain Hutchins, so I trust that they may have a good pa.s.sage home. But it is disappointing.
You'll not mind, my dear fellow, sailing at once to follow them? I am afraid there is no chance of catching them at Gibraltar, but if the 'Frolic' behaves as well as usual, we may get to England almost as soon as they do. Not that I wish that either--I would far rather the 'Success' had a speedy pa.s.sage. I am certain also Carstairs will be ready to start; and as for Bubble, he'll wish to do what is reasonable; so I suppose there is nothing to prevent our sailing as soon as we have got a fresh supply of water, and a few more provisions on board.”
I a.s.sured my friend that I was perfectly ready to go to sea that very hour, if the necessary preparations for the voyage could be made; and volunteered at once to go in search of Porpoise, to hasten what was required to be done; while he himself went to his bankers, and settled a few bills he had left unpaid. On my way I encountered Carstairs, who had received no notice of the widow's departure, and was therefore still engaged in searching for her, as much puzzled as Hearty had at first been. I never saw a fellow more taken aback than he was when I communicated the truth to him, and he directly became all eagerness to put to sea. What his feelings were I cannot exactly tell. I suspect that his confidence in the durability of Mrs Skysc.r.a.per's regard for him was not quite up to the mark of Hearty's for that of his intended.
”Why hasn't she written to me, to tell me what she was going to do, and why has she hurried away to England? Hang it, they are all alike, I suppose, and delight to make fools of us poor men. Now let us go and hunt up Porpoise. Bubble said he should tend to him while I was paying my visit to my--my--hang it, to the widow, I mean.”
Poor fellow, he was sadly put out I saw. Porpoise was soon found; and when he heard the state of the case, he set to work as if life and death depended on it, in getting the cutter ready for a long voyage. He had plenty of lieutenants in us three gentlemen; and while one went off in one direction another started away in an opposite one to order what was required, and to see the orders executed, while the crew did their part with right good will. Water and coals, and stores and provisions, were soon alongside, and quickly hoisted on board and stowed away below.
Hearty was surprised and highly gratified when he got on board and found what was done.
”Where there's a will there's a way,” is a very true saying; and ”If you want a thing done, go and do it yourself,” is another. The Portuguese say, ”If you want a thing _go_, if you don't want a thing _send_.”
That very evening, with a fair wind, we were running out of Malta Harbour. Away glided the ”Frolic” over the moonlit Mediterranean, with every st.i.tch of canvas she could carry set alow and aloft. We had a sharp look-out kept ahead so that we might avoid running down any boat, or running into any vessel; while the three landsmen agreed to keep watch with Porpoise and me, to add to the number of hands on deck.
Porpoise prognosticated a very rapid pa.s.sage home, and certainly, from the way we commenced it, we had reason to hope that he would not prove a fallacious seer. We speedily lost sight of Malta, and its rocks and fortifications; with its scanty soil and swarthy population, and noisy bells, and lazy monks, without any very great regret on our part. We had altogether pa.s.sed a pleasant, and not unexciting time there; and I, for my part, look back to those days with fewer regrets as to the way I spent them than I do to some pa.s.sed in other places. I am somewhat inclined to moralise. I must own that often and often I wish that I could live my early days over again, that I might employ them very differently to what I did. Deeply do I regret the precious time squandered in perfect idleness, or the most puerile frivolities, if not in absolute wickedness; time which might have been spent in acquiring knowledge which would have afforded the most intense and pure delight in benefiting my fellow-creatures; which would have a.s.suredly afforded me happiness and peace of mind in the consciousness that I was doing my duty. But ah! time has gone by never to be recalled; but happily it may be redeemed while health and strength and vigour of mind remain. Often have I thought to myself, ”Why was I sent into the world? Why was I endued with an intellect--with a heart to feel--a soul to meditate on things great and glorious--with powers of mind which I am conscious are but in embryo, and which but await separation from this frail body to comprehend some, if not all, the great mysteries of nature! Surely I was not placed here merely to kill time--to amuse myself--to employ my faculties in trifles; still less, to indulge myself in mere animal gratification. No, no; I am certain of that. I was sent here as a place of trial--as a school where I might learn my duties--as a preparation for a higher sphere.” When I understood this, the great problem of existence was at once solved; difficulties vanished; the whole government of the world at once seemed right and just and reasonable; and my thoughts, feelings, tastes, and aspirations became changed. I was led to look upward as to the only source of happiness, and a pure and unfailing source it has ever since proved to me.
Brother yachtsmen who may glance your eye over these pages, meditate seriously on this matter. As you walk the deck on your midnight watch, looking up ever and anon into the dark sky where flit countless numbers of brilliant stars to guide you on your path across the ocean, ask yourself the question, ”Why was I sent into this world?” and do not be satisfied till you have found an answer, and resolved to profit by it.
I do not pretend that I thought much about this matter when I was on board the ”Frolic,” yet now and again some thoughts of the sort did flash across my mind, but my companions rallied me on my seriousness and they vanished.
But to my history: away sailed the saucy little ”Frolic” over the blue waters of the Mediterranean. We laughed and sang and chatted, much as usual, and Carstairs quoted to as good effect as in days of yore; but we failed entirely in our long stories, for our pens had been idle, and our imaginations were much at fault. What we might have done I do not know, had not a reality occurred which effectually put all fiction to flight.
We were about half-way between Malta and Gibraltar, a succession of light winds having made old Snow confess that he was afraid his prognostications of a rapid pa.s.sage were not likely to be realised, when one forenoon when I came on deck, I found Porpoise scrutinising through his gla.s.s an object which he had discovered on the water nearly right ahead of us.
”What is it, do you think?” I asked.
”I can't quite make out,” he answered, handing me the telescope. ”It looks to me like the hull of a dismasted s.h.i.+p--an ugly thing to run foul of on a dark night with a heavy gale blowing.”
”You are right as to its being a s.h.i.+p's hull, I am pretty certain,” I answered. ”We shall be up to it soon, and that will settle the question.”
Some of the people, however, declared that what we saw was a rock or an island, and others that a dead whale had floated in through the Straits.
As we approached, however, our opinion was found to be the correct one, and then it became a subject of discussion as to what she could be.
”She is a good-sized craft, whatever she is,” observed Hearty, who had joined us on deck. ”Is she an English or foreign vessel do you think?”
”English by her build,” replied Porpoise, observing her narrowly through the gla.s.s; ”I cannot make it out. I see no one on board. How she came into that state puzzles me.”
”My dear fellow, have you any idea what sort of a vessel the 'Success'
is? Does any one on board know her?” exclaimed Hearty, suddenly turning pale, and literally trembling from head to foot, as all sorts of horrible suspicions and fears flashed through his mind.
Inquiries were made, but no one recollected to have seen the brig in which our friends had taken their pa.s.sage. We did our best to calm Hearty's apprehensions, but under the circ.u.mstances they were very natural, and in spite of all we could say, they rather increased than diminished, as we approached the wreck. Carstairs shared them, but, being of a far less excitable temperament, in a much less degree; indeed, Hearty seemed to look on him as being very callous and insensible, for not making himself as miserable as he felt.
The breeze was very light, and our progress seemed terribly slow to the impatient feelings of our kind-hearted host. His gla.s.s was never for a moment off the wreck; indeed we were all of us constantly looking at her, in the hopes of seeing some one appear. The afternoon was drawing well on, before we got up to her. The instant we approached her, two boats were lowered, and Hearty and I jumped into the first, and away we pulled as fast as the men could bend to their oars--the men evidently entering fully into the feelings of their master. I went with him that I might really look after him, should his worst antic.i.p.ations be realised. We were soon alongside, and in an instant scrambled on board.
The masts, and rigging, and sails, hung over the side; the former in their fall having carried away the bulwarks and smashed the boats. I saw before we got on board, that she had lost her masts with all sail set, in some unaccountably lubberly way it seemed. The sea had washed away some of her spare spars and the caboose, but she had apparently righted directly her masts went, and there seemed no reason why she should have been deserted by her crew. As we pulled up under the stern, we looked out for a name painted there, but a sail hung over it, and if there was a name it was not perceptible. Hearty, the moment he was on board, rushed with frantic haste along the deck, to ascertain the important fact, and very nearly fell overboard in his attempt to remove the sail, till others could aid him. The sail was soon dragged aside, and as we hung down over the taffrail, a large S appeared, there could be no doubt of it. There was the word ”Success” of London. I had to help my friend on board again.
”What can have happened! What can have happened!” he exclaimed, as soon as he could find words to speak.
”Why, I trust that they fancied the brig in a much worse condition than she appears to us to be, and that they quitted her in the boats, or some other craft which was fortunately pa.s.sing soon after the catastrophe.”
But as I spoke, our eyes fell on the shattered boats, and I recollected that the former hypothesis could not be correct. ”They must have fallen in with some vessel,” I remarked to Hearty. ”The ladies were happily conveyed on board her, but why the crew deserted the s.h.i.+p I cannot say.”
”But where can they have gone to--what port can they have put into--what sort of vessel can they be on board?” exclaimed Hearty, almost frantic with agitation. ”It's very dreadful.”