Chapter LXXXIV: The Chase (1)

Half pulling, half trusting to the sail, in a few seconds they were alongside the carcass of the _cachalot_. They saw what it was and divined how it came to be there; though still puzzled by the pyrotechnic display exhibited on its summit.

As they passed under the shadow of the huge mass some proposed that they should stay by it,--alleging that it would furnish food for all; but this proposal was rejected by the majority.

"_Pardieu_!" exclaimed the directing voice of Le Gros; "we have food a plenty. It's drink we want now. There's no water upon the whale; and there must be some in possession of these runaways, whoever they be. Let us first follow _them_! If we overhaul them, we can come back. If not, we can return all the same!"

This proposal appeared too reasonable to be rejected. A muttered assent of the majority decided its acceptance; and the raft, yielding to the renewed impulse of the rowers, swept past the carcass,--leaving both the black mass and the blazing beacon astern.

As if further to justify the course of action he had counselled, Le Gros continued--

"No fear about our finding the dead fish. This fog is clearing away. In half an hour there won't be a trace of it. We shall be able to make out the carcass if the whale twenty miles off,--especially with the smoke of that infernal fire to guide us. Pull like the devil! Be sure of it, there's water in one of those casks we see. Only think of it,--_water_!"

It scarce needed the repetition of this magic word to stimulate his thirsty companions. They were already pulling with all their strength.

For about ten minutes the chase continued,--both the pursued and the pursuer equally enveloped in vapour. They were less than two hundred yards apart, and virtually within view,--though not so near as to distinguish one another's features. Each crew could make out the forms of the other; but only to tell that they were human beings clad in some sort of costume.

In this respect the Catamarans had the advantage. They knew who were their pursuers; and all about them.

The latter were still in a state of ignorance as to who were the four individuals so zealously endeavouring to avoid an interview with them. They could perceive that only two of them were full-grown men, and that the other two were of smaller size; but this gave them no clew for the identification of the fugitives.

Of course it did not occur to any of them to think over the rest of the _Pandora's_ people; and even if it had, there was no one who would have for a moment supposed that either the black cook, Snowball, or the little Portuguese pickaninny,--rarely seen upon the slaver's deck,-- could be among the survivors.

Such a conjecture never occurred to any of the ruffians upon the great raft; and therefore they were continuing the chase still ignorant of the identity of those who seemed so desirous of escaping them.

It was only after the fog had floated entirely away,--or grown so thin as to appear but transparent film,--that the pursuers identified those they were pursuing.

Then did their doubts cease and their conjectures come to a termination.

Of the four forms distinguishable upon the deck of the escaping craft, there was one that could not be mistaken.

That huge, rounded bust covered with its sable epidermis--for the negro had stripped to his work,--surmounted by a spherical occiput,--could belong to no living creature but the ex-cook of the _Pandora_. It was Snowball to a certainty!

A general shout proclaimed the recognition; and for some moments the air was rent with the voices of his _ci-devant_ comrades calling upon the Coromantee to "come to an anchor."

"Lie to, Snowball!" cried several of his old comrades. "Why have you cut your cable in that fashion? Hold on till we come up. We mean you no harm!"

Snowball did hold on; though not in the sense that his former associates desired. On the contrary, their request only stimulated him to fresh exertions, to avoid the renewal of an acquaintance which he knew would certainly end in his ruin.

The Coromantee was not to be cajoled. With Ben Brace by his side, muttering wholesome counsel, he lent a deaf ear to the proposal of the pursuers; and only answered it by pulling more energetically at his oar.

What had been only a request, now became a demand,--accompanied by threats and protestation. Snowball was menaced with the most dire vengeance; and told of terrible punishments that awaited him on his capture.

Their threats had no more influence than their solicitations; and they who had given utterance to them arriving after a time, at this conviction, ceased talking altogether.

Snowball's silent, though evidently determined, rejection of their demands had the effect of irritating those who had made them; and stimulated by their spite with more energy than ever did they bend themselves to the task of overtaking the fugitive craft.

Two hundred yards still lay between pursuer and pursued. Two hundred yards of clear, unobstructed ocean. Was that distance to become diminished, to the capture of the _Catamaran_; or was it to be increased, to her escape?

CHAPTER EIGHTY FIVE.

NEARER AND NEARER.

Were the _Catamarans_ to escape or be captured? Though not propounded as above, this was the question that occupied the minds of both crews,-- the pursued and the pursuing.

Both were doing their very utmost,--the former to make their escape, the latter to prevent it; and very different were the motives by which the two parties were actuated. The occupants of the lesser raft believed themselves to be rowing and sailing for their lives; and they were not far astray in this belief; while those upon the larger embarkation were pulling after them with the most hostile intentions,--to rob them of everything they had got,--even their lives included.

So went they over the wide ocean: the pursued exerting themselves under the influence of fear; the pursuer, under that of a ferocious instinct.

In sailing qualities the _Catamaran_ was decidedly superior to the larger raft; and had the wind been only a little fresher she would soon have increased the distance between herself and her pursuer.

Unfortunately it was a very gentle breeze that was blowing at the time; and therefore it was a contest of speed that would most likely have to be decided by the oars. In this respect the _Catamaran_ laboured under a great disadvantage,--she could only command a single pair of oars; while, taking into account the various implements--capstan-bars and handspikes--possessed by her competitor, nearly a dozen oars might be reckoned upon. In fact, when her crew had got fairly settled down to the chase, quite this number of men could be seen acting as rowers.

Though their strokes were by no means either regular or efficient, still did they produce a rate of speed greater than that of the _Catamaran_; and the crew of the latter saw, to their dismay, that their pursuers were gaining upon them.

Not very rapidly, but sufficiently so to be perceived, and to inspire them with the dread belief, that in course of time they would be overtaken.

Under this belief, men of a despairing turn of mind would have ceased to exert themselves, and yielded to a fate that appeared almost certain to ensue.

But neither the English sailor nor the Coromantee sea-cook were individuals of the yielding kind. They were both made of sterner stuff,--and even when the chase was undoubtedly going _against_ them, they were heard muttering to each other words of encouragement, and a mutual determination never to lay down their oars, so long as six feet of water separated them from their unpitying pursuers.

"No," ejaculated the sailor, "it 'ud be no use. They'd show us no more marcy than so many sharks. I know it by their ways. Don't lose a stroke, Snowy. We may tire 'em out yet."

"Nebba fear fo' me, Massa Brace!" replied the Coromantee. "A keep pullin' so long's de be a poun' o' trength in ma arms, or a bit o' breff in ma body. Nebba fear!"

It might appear as though the crew of the _Catamaran_ were now contending against fate, and without hope. This, however, was not the case; for there was still something like a hope to cheer them on, and nerve them to continue their exertions. What was it?

The answer to this interrogatory would have been found by anyone who could have looked upon the sea,--at some distance astern of the chase.

There might have been observed an appearance upon the water, which betokened it different from that through which they were making their way.

It resembled a dark, shadowy line, extending athwart the horizon. It might not have attracted the notice of an ordinary observer, but to the eye of Ben Brace,--as he sat by his oar facing it,--that dark line had a peculiar signification.

He knew that it denoted rougher water, and a stiffer breeze than that blowing upon them; and from this, as well as the clouds fast gathering astern, he knew there was a wind coming from that quarter.

He had imparted his observation to Snowball, and it was this that continued to inspire them with a hope of ultimate escape. Both believed that, with a strong wind in their favour, they would have the advantage of the pursuer; and so, while still bending all their energies to the propulsion of the _Catamaran_, they kept their eyes almost continually fixed upon the sea astern,--even with a more anxious glance than that with which they regarded their pursuers.

"If we can keep out o' their way," muttered he to his fellow oarsman, "only twenty minutes longer! By that time yonder breeze 'll be down on us; and then we'll ha' some chance. There be no doubt but they're gainin' on us now. But the breeze be a gainin' on them,--equally, if not faster. O if we only had a puff o' yonder wind! It be blowin' fresh and strong. I can see it curlin' up the water not three knots astarn o' the big raft. Pull for your life, Snowy. Shiver my timbers! they be a gainin' on us faster than ever!"

There was a despairing tone in these last words, that told how fearful appeared their situation to the captain of the _Catamaran_; and the sign of assent made by Snowball in reply,--an ominous shake of the head,-- showed that the ex-cook shared the apprehensions of his comrade.

CHAPTER EIGHTY SIX.

CUT IN TWAIN.

For some seconds the sailor and Snowball remained silent,--both too busy with their oars, as well as their eyes, to find time for speech.

Their pursuers were noisy enough. They had kept quiet, so long as there appeared to be any uncertainty about the results of the chase; but as soon as they became assured that their clumsy craft was going faster than that of which they were in pursuit,--and they no longer felt doubt about overtaking the latter,--their fiendish voices once more filled the air; and commands for the Catamarans to come to,--with threats of revenge in case of non-compliance,--were hurled after the fugitives.

One man was conspicuous among the rest both for the position which he held upon the raft and the menacing words and gestures of which he made use. This man was Le Gros.

Standing prominently forward, near the head of the embarkation, with a long boat-hook in his hand, he appeared to direct the movements of the others,--urging them in every way to their utmost exertions. He was heard telling them that he saw both food and water in possession of the fugitives--a cask of the latter, as he stated, being lashed to the _Catamaran_.

It need scarce be said that the statement--whether true or fallacious,-- acted as a stimulus to his comrades at the oar. The word "water" was music to their ears; and, on hearing it pronounced, one and all of them put forth their utmost strength.

The increased speed thus obtained for the larger craft war likely to bring about the crisis. She was now seen to gain upon the lesser more rapidly than ever; and, before another ten minutes had elapsed, she had forged so close to the stern timbers of the _Catamaran_ that an active man might almost have leaped from one to the other.

The crew of the latter beheld the proximity with despair. They saw the black waves, with white curling crests, coming on behind. They saw the sky becoming overcast above their heads; but it appeared only to scowl upon them,--as if to make darker the dread doom that was now threatening so near.

"Shiver my timbers!" cried the sailor, alluding to that too tardy wind, "it will be too late to save us!"

"Too late!" echoed the voice of Le Gros from the big raft, his white teeth, as they shone through his black beard, imparting to him a ferocity of aspect that was hideous to behold. "Too late, you say, Monsieur Brace. For what, may I ask? Not too late for us to get a drink out of your water-cask. Ha! ha! ha!"

"You son of a sea-cook!" he continued, addressing himself to the negro; "why don't you hold your oars? _Sacre-Dieu_! what's the use, you ugly nigger? Don't you see we'll board you in six seconds more? Drop your oars, I say, and save time. If you don't, we'll skin you alive when we've got our flippers upon you."

"Nebba, Massa Grow!" defiantly retorted Snowball? "you nebba 'kin dis nigga 'live. He go die 'fore you do dat. He got him knife yet. By golly! me kill more than one ob you 'fore gib in. So hab a care, Massa Grow! You lay hand on ole Snowy, you cotch de tarnel goss."

To this threat of resistance the Frenchman did not vouchsafe reply: for the rafts were now so near to each other that his attention became engrossed by something that left no time for further speech.

He saw that the _Catamaran_ was within reach of his boat-hook, and, leaning forwards with the long shaft extended, he struck its grappling-iron into her stern timber.

For a second or two there was a struggle, which would have ended in the two rafts being brought in contact with one another but for an adroit stroke given by the oar of the English sailor. This not only detached the boat-hook from its grip, but also from the grasp of Le Gros, and sent the implement shivering through the air.

At the same instant of time the Frenchman, losing his balance, was seen to stagger, and then sink suddenly downwards; not into a prostrate position, but perpendicularly,--as if his legs had penetrated between the timbers of the raft.

This was exactly what had occurred: for as soon as the spectators in both crafts could recover from their surprise, they saw only so much of Monsieur Le Gros as lay between his armpits and the crown of his head,-- his limbs and the lower half of his body being concealed between the planks that prevented him from sinking wholly into the water.

Perhaps it would have been better for him had he made a complete plunge of it. At all events, a bold "header" could not have had for him a more unfortunate ending. Scarce had he sunk between the timber when a wild shriek came forth from his throat,--accompanied by a pallor of countenance, and a contortion of his features, that proclaimed something more than a mere "start" received by suddenly sinking waist-deep into the sea.

One of his comrades,--the confederate ruffian already spoken of,--rushed forward to raise him out of the trap,--from which he was evidently unable to extricate himself.

The man caught hold of him by the arms, and was dragging him up; when, all at once, he was seen to let go, and start back with a cry of horror!

This singular conduct was explained on looking at the object from which he had made such a precipitate retreat. It was no longer Le Gros, nor even Le Gros's body; but only the upper half of it, cut off by the abdomen, as clean as if it had been severed by a pair of gigantic shears!

"A shark!" cried a voice, which only gave utterance to the thought that sprung up simultaneously in the minds of all,--both the occupants of the big raft, and the crew of the Catamaran.

Thus deplorably terminated the life of a sinful man; who certainly merited punishment, and, perhaps deserved no better fate.

CHAPTER EIGHTY SEVEN.

AN UNLOOKED-FOR DELIVERANCE.

A spectacle so unexpected,--but, above all, of such a horrid nature,-- could not fail to produce a powerful impression upon those who were witnesses to it. It even caused a change of proceedings on the part of the pursuers,--almost a suspension of the pursuit,--and on that of the pursued some relaxation in their efforts to escape. Both parties appeared for some seconds as if spellbound, and the oars on both rafts were for a while held "apeak."

This pause in the action was in favour of the _Catamaran_, whose sailing qualities were superior to those of her pursuer. Her crew, moreover, less caring for what had happened to Monsieur Le Gros, were the first to recover from their surprise; and before the comrades of the half-eaten Frenchman thought of continuing the chase, they had forced ahead several lengths of their craft from the dangerous contiguity so near being established between them.

The ruffian crew--now castaways--of the _Pandora_ had been awed by the strange incident,--so much so as to believe, for a time, that something more than chance had interfered to bring it about. They were not all friends of the unfortunate man, who had succumbed to such a singular fate. The inquest that had been interrupted was still fresh in their minds, and many of them believed that the inquiry--had it proceeded to a just termination--would have resulted in proving the guilt of Le Gros, and proclaiming him the murderer of O'Gorman.

Under this belief, there were many aboard the big raft that would not have cared to continue the chase any further, had it merely been to avenge the death of their late leader. With them, as with the others, there was a different motive for doing so,--a far more powerful incentive,--and that was the thirst which tortured all, and the belief that the escaping craft carried the means to relieve it.

The moiety of their mutilated chief, lying along the planks of the raft, engaged their thoughts only for a very short while; and was altogether forgotten, when the cry of "Water!" once more rising in their midst, urged them to resume the pursuit.

Once more did they betake themselves to their oars,--once more did they exert their utmost strength,--but with far less effect than before. They were still stimulated by the torture of thirst; but they no longer acted with that unanimity which secures success. The head that had hitherto guided them with those imperious eyes--now glaring ghastly from the extremity of the severed trunk--was no longer of authority among them; and they acted in that undecided and irregular manner always certain to result in defeat.

Perhaps, had things continued as they were, they might have made up for the lost opportunity; and, in time, have overtaken the fugitives on the _Catamaran_; but during that excited interval a change had come over the surface of the sea, which influenced the fate both of pursuers and pursued.

The dark line, first narrowly observed by the crew of the _Catamaran_ upon the distant verge of the horizon, was no longer a mere streak of shadowed water. It had developed during the continuance of the chase, and now covered both sea and sky,--the latter with black cumbrous clouds, the former with quick curling waves, that lashed the water-casks supporting both rafts, and proclaimed the approach, if not of a storm, at least a fresh breeze,--likely to change the character of the chase hitherto kept up between them.

And very quickly came that change to pass. By the time that the castaways on the great raft had once more headed their clumsy embarkation to the pursuit, they saw the more trim craft,--by her builders yclept the _Catamaran_--with her sails spread widely to the wind, gliding rapidly out of their reach, and "walking the water like a thing of life."

They no longer continued the pursuit. They might have done so, but for the waves that now, swelling up around the raft, admonished them of a danger hitherto unknown. With the spray rushing over them, and the sea, at each fresh assault, threatening to engulf their ill-governed craft, they found sufficient employment for their remaining strength, in clinging to the timbers of their rude embarkation.

CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT.

A THREATENED STORM.

Thus, once more, were the Catamarans delivered from a terrible danger,-- almost literally "from the jaws of death"; and once more, too, by what appeared a providential interference.

Ben Brace actually believed it so. It would have been difficult for anyone to have thought otherwise; but the moral mind of the sailor had of late undergone some very serious transformations; and the perils through which they had been passing,--with their repeated deliverances, all apparently due to some unseen hand,--had imbued him with a belief that the Almighty must be everywhere,--even in the midst of the illimitable ocean.

It was this faith that had sustained him through the many trials through which they had gone; and that, in the very latest and last,--when the ruffians upon the raft were fast closing upon the _Catamaran_,--had led him to give encouraging counsels to Snowball to keep on. It had encouraged him, in fine, to strike the boat-hook from the grasp of Le Gros,--which act had ended by putting their implacable enemy _hors du combat_, and conducting to their final deliverance.

It was this belief that still hindered the brave mariner,--now that the sea began to surge around them, and the spray to dash over the deck of their frail craft,--hindered him from giving way to a new despair; and from supposing that they had been only delivered from one danger to be overwhelmed by another.

For some time did it seem as if this was to be their fate,--as if, literally, they were to be overwhelmed. The breeze which had so opportunely carried the _Catamaran_ beyond the reach of the pursuing raft, soon freshened into a gale; and threatened to continue increasing to that still more dreaded condition of the ocean atmosphere,--a storm.

The rafts were no longer in sight of each other. Scarce five minutes had elapsed, after being grappled by Le Gros, when the breeze had caught hold of the _Catamaran_; and, from her superior sailing qualities, she had soon become separated from the more clumsy embarkation of the enemy.

In another hour, the _Catamaran_, under good steering, had swept several miles to westward; while the raft, no longer propelled by oars, and its rudder but ill-directed, had gone drifting about: as if they who occupied it were making only a despairing effort to keep it before the wind.

Despite the rising gale and the increasing roughness of the water, there were no despairing people upon the _Catamaran_. Supported by his faith in providential protection, Ben Brace acted as if there was no danger; and encouraged his companions to do the same.

Every precaution was adopted to provide against accidents. As soon as they saw that the pursuer was left behind,--and they were no longer in any peril from that quarter,--the sail was lowered upon the mast, as there was too great a breadth of it for the constantly freshening breeze. It was not taken in altogether, but only "shortened,"--reefed in a rude fashion,--so as to expose only half its surface to the wind; and this proved just sufficient to keep the _Catamaran_ "trim" and steady upon her course.

It would not be correct to say that her captain and crew felt no fears for her safety. On the contrary, they experienced the apprehensions natural to such a situation; and for this reason did they take every precaution against the danger that threatened. The Coromantee might have given way to a feeling of fatalism,--peculiar to his country and class,--but there was no danger of Ben Brace doing so. Notwithstanding his faith about being protected by Providence, the sailor also believed, that self-action is required on the part of those who stand in need of such protection; and that nothing should be left undone to deserve it.

The situation was altogether new to them. It was the first thing in the shape of a storm, or even a gale, they had encountered since the construction of their curious craft. Ever since the burning of the _Pandora_, they had been highly favoured in this respect. They had been navigating their various embarkations through a "summer sea," in the midst of the tropical ocean,--where ofttimes whole weeks elapse without either winds or waves occurring to disturb its tranquillity,--a sea, in short, where the "calm" is more dreaded than the "storm." Up to this time they had not experienced any violent commotion of the atmosphere,-- nothing stronger than what is termed a "fresh breeze," and in that the _Catamaran_ had proved herself an accomplished sailer.

It was now to be seen how she would behave under a gale that might end in a storm,--perhaps a terrific tempest.

It would be untrue to say that her crew looked forward to the event without fear. They did not. As said, they suffered considerable apprehension; and would have felt it more keenly, but for the cheering influence of that faith with which her captain was sustained, and which he endeavoured to impart to his companions.

Leaning upon this, they looked with less dread upon the sky lowering above and the storm gathering around them.

As the day advanced the wind continued to freshen until about the hour of noon. It was then blowing a brisk gale. Fortunately for the crew of the _Catamaran_, it did not become a storm. Had it done so their frail craft must have been shivered, and her component parts once more scattered over the ocean.

It was just as much as her crew could accomplish to keep them together, in a sea only moderately rough,--compared with what it would have been in a storm. This they discovered during the afternoon of that day; and it was no great comfort to them to reflect that, in the event of a real storm being encountered, the _Catamaran_ would undoubtedly go to pieces. They could only console themselves with the hope that such an event might not arise until they should reach land, or, which was perhaps more probable, be picked up by a ship.

The chances of terminating their perilous voyage in either way were so slight and distant, that they scarce gave thought to them. When they did, it was only to be reminded of the extreme hopelessness of their situation, and yield to despairing reflections. On that particular day they had no time to speculate upon such remote probabilities as the ultimate ending of their voyage. They found occupation enough,--both for their minds and bodies,--in insuring its continuance. Not only had they to watch every wave as it came rolling upon them,--and keep the _Catamaran_ trimly set to receive it,--but they had to look to the timbers of the craft, and see that the lashings did not get loose.

Several times did the sea break quite over them; and but that Lilly Lalee and little William were fast tied to the foot of the mast, they would both have been washed off, and probably lost amidst the dark waste of waters.

It was just as much as the two strong men could do to keep aboard and even they had ropes knotted round their wrists and attached to the timbers of the raft,--in case of their getting carried overboard.

Once a huge billow swept over, submerging them several feet under the sea. At this crisis all four thought that their last hour had come, and for some seconds were under the belief that they were going to the bottom, and would never more look upon the light of day.

But for the peculiar construction of their raft this, in all likelihood, would have been the result; but those buoyant water-casks were not to be "drowned" in such a fashion and soon "bobbed" back to the surface, once more bringing the _Catamaran_ and her crew above water.

It was fortunate for them that Ben Brace and Snowball had not trusted too much to fate while constructing their abnormal craft. The experienced sailor had foreseen the difficulties that on this day beset them; and, instead of making a mere temporary embarkation, to suit the conditions of the summer sea that then surrounded them, he had spared no pains to render it seaworthy as far as circumstances would allow. He and Snowball had used their united strength in drawing tight the cords with which the timbers were bound together,--as well as those that lashed them to the casks,--and their united skill in disposing the rude materials in a proper manner.

Even after "launching" the _Catamaran_,--every day, almost every hour, had they been doing something to improve her,--either by giving the craft greater strength and compactness, or in some other way rendering her more worthy both of the sea and her sailors.

By this providential industry they were now profiting: since by it, and it alone, were they enabled to "ride out" the gale.

Had they trusted to chance and given way to indolence,--all the more natural under the very hopelessness of their situation,--they would never have outlived that day. The _Catamaran_ might not have gone to the bottom, but she would have gone to pieces; and it is not likely that any of her crew would have survived the catastrophe.

As it was, both raft and crew weathered the gale in safety. Before sunset the wind had fallen to a gentle zephyr; the tropical sea was gradually returning to its normal state of comparative calm; and the _Catamaran_, with her broad sail once more spread to the breeze, was scudding on,--guided in her course by the golden luminary slowly descending towards the western edge of a cloudless heaven.

CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE.

A STARTLING SHRIEK.

The night proved pleasanter than the day. The wind was no longer an enemy; and the breeze that succeeded was more advantageous than would have been a dead calm; since it steadied the craft amidst the rolling of the swell.

Before midnight the swell itself had subsided. It had never reached any great height, as the gale had been of short continuance; and for the same reason it had suddenly gone down again.

With the return of smooth water they were able to betake themselves to rest. They needed it, after such a series of fatigues and fears; and having swallowed a few morsels of their unpalatable food, and washed it down by a cup of diluted Canary, they all went to rest.

Neither the wet planking on which they were compelled to encouch themselves, nor the sea-soaked garments clinging round their bodies, hindered them from obtaining sleep.

In a colder clime their condition would have been sufficiently comfortless; but in the ocean atmosphere of the torrid zone the night hours are warm enough to render "wet sheets" not only endurable, but at times even pleasant.

I have said that all of them went to sleep. It was not their usual custom to do so. On other nights one was always upon the watch,--either the captain himself, the ex-cook, or the boy. Of course Lilly Lalee enjoyed immunity from this kind of duty: since she was not, properly speaking, one of the "crew," but only a "passenger."

Their customary night-watch had a twofold object: to hold the _Catamaran_ to her course, and to keep a lookout over the sea,--the latter having reference to the chance if seeing a sail.

On this particular night their vigil,--had it been kept,--might have had a threefold purpose: for it is not to be forgotten that they were still not so very far from their late pursuers. They too must have been making way with the wind.

Neither had the Catamarans forgotten it; but even with this thought before their minds, they were unable to resist the fascinations of Morpheus; and leaving the craft to take her own course, the ships, if there were any, to sail silently by, and the big raft, if chance so directed it, to overtake them, they yielded themselves to unconscious slumber.

Simultaneously were they awakened, and by a sound that might have awakened the dead. It was a shriek that came pealing over the surface of the ocean,--as unearthly in its intonation as if only the ocean itself could have produced it! It was short, sharp, quick, and clear; and so loud as to startle even Snowball from his torpidity.

The Coromantee was the first to inquire into its character.

"Wha' de debbil am dat?" he asked, rubbing his ears to make sure that he was not labouring under a delusion.

"Shiver my timbers if I can tell!" rejoined the sailor, equally puzzled by what he had heard.

"Dat soun' berry like da voice o' some un go drown,--berry like. Wha' say you, Massa Brace?"

"It was a good bit like the voice of a man cut in two by a shark. That's what it minded me of."

"By golly! you speak de troof. It wa jess like that,--jess like the lass s'riek ob Massa Grow."

"And yet," continued the sailor, after a moment's reflection, "'t warn't like that neyther. 'T warn't human, nohow: leastwise, I niver heerd such come out o' a human throat."

"A don't blieb de big raff can be near. We hab been runnin' down de wind ebba since you knock off dat boat-hook. We got de start o' de _Pandoras_; an' dar's no mistake but we hab kep de distance. Dat s'riek no come from dem."

"Look yonder!" cried little William, interrupting the dialogue. "I see something."

"Whereaway? What like be it?" inquired the sailor.

"Yonder!" answered the lad, pointing over the starboard bow of the _Catamaran_; "about three cables' length out in the water. It's a black lump; it looks like a boat."

"A boat! Shiver my timbers if thee bean't right, lad. I see it now. It do look somethin' as you say. But what ul a boat be doin' here,--out in the middle o' the Atlantic?"

"Dat am a boat," interposed Snowball. "Fo' sartin it am."

"It must be," said the sailor, after more carefully scrutinising it. "It is! I see its shape better now. There's some un in it. I see only one; ah, he be standin' up in the middle o' it, like a mast. It be a man though; an' I dare say the same as gi'ed that shout, if he be a human; though, sartin, there warn't much human in it."

As if to confirm the sailor's last assertion, the shriek was repeated, precisely as it had been uttered before; though now, entering ears that were awake, it produced a somewhat different impression.

The voice was evidently that of a man. Even under the circumstances, it could be nothing else, but of a man who had taken leave of his senses. It was the wild cry of a maniac!

The crew of the _Catamaran_ might have continued in doubt as to this had they been treated only to a repetition of the shriek; but this was followed by a series of speeches,--incoherent, it is true, but spoken in an intelligible tongue, and ending in a peal of laughter such as might be heard echoing along the corridors of a lunatic asylum!

One and all of them stood looking and listening.

It was a moonless night, and had been a dark one; but it was now close upon morning. Already had the aurora tinged the horizon with roseate hues. The grey light of dawn was beginning to scatter its soft rays over the surface of the ocean; and objects--had there been any--could be distinguished at a considerable distance.

Certainly there was an object,--a thing of boat-shape, with a human form standing near its middle. It was a boat, a man in it; and, from the exclamation and laughter to which they had listened, there could be no doubt about the man being mad.

Mad or sane, why should they shun him? There were two strong men on the raft, who need not fear to encounter a lunatic under any circumstances,--even in the midst of the ocean. Nor did they fear it; for as soon as they became fully convinced that they saw a boat with a man in it, they "ported" the helm of the _Catamaran_, and stood directly towards it.

Less than ten minutes' sailing in the altered course brought them within fair view of the object that had caused them to deviate; and, after scrutinising it, less than ten seconds enabled them to satisfy their minds as to the strange craft and its yet stranger occupant.

They saw before them the "gig" of the slaver; and, standing "midships" in the boat,--just half-way between stem and stern,--they saw the captain of that ill-starred, ill-fated vessel!

CHAPTER NINETY.

A MADMAN IN MID-OCEAN.

In the minds of the _Catamaran's_ crew there was no longer any cause for conjecture. The boat-shaped object on the water, and the human form standing up within it, were mysteries no more; nor was there any when that boat and that human being were identified.

If in the spectacle there was aught still to puzzle them, it was the seeing only one man in the boat instead of six.

There should have been six; since that was the number that the gig had originally carried away from the burning bark,--five others besides the one now seen,--and who, notwithstanding a great change in his appearance, was still recognisable as the slaver's captain.

Where were the missing men,--the mates, the carpenter and two common sailors, who had escaped along with him? Were they in the boat, lying down, and so concealed from the view of those upon the _Catamaran_? Or had they succumbed to some fearful fate, leaving only that solitary survivor?

The gig sat high in the water. Those upon the _Catamaran_ could not see over its gunwale unless by approaching nearer, and this they hesitated to do.

Indeed, on identifying the boat and the individual standing in it, they had suddenly hauled down the sail and were lying to, using their oar to keep them from drifting any nearer.

They had done so from an instinctive apprehension. They knew that the men who had gone off in the gig were not a whit better than those upon the big raft; for the officers of the slaver, in point of ruffianism, were upon a par with their crew. With this knowledge, it was a question for consideration whether the Catamarans would be safe in approaching the boat. If the six were still in it, and out of food and water, like those on the large raft, they would undoubtedly despoil the _Catamaran_, just as the others had designed doing. From such as they no mercy need be expected; and as it was not likely any succour could be obtained from them, it would, perhaps, be better, in every way, to "give them a wide berth."

Such were the thoughts that passed hastily through the mind of Ben Brace, and were communicated to his companions.

Were the five missing men still aboard the boat?

They might be lying down along the bottom,--though it was not likely they could be asleep? That appeared almost impossible, considering the shouts and screams which the captain at intervals still continued to send forth.

"By de great gorramity!" muttered Snowball, "a doan't b'lieb one ob dem's leff 'board dat boat, 'ceptin de ole 'kipper himseff; an ob him dar am nuffin leff cep'n de body. Dat man's intlek am clar gone. He am ravin' mad!"

"You're right, Snowy," assented the sailor; "there be ne'er a one there but himself. At all events they ain't all there. I can tell by the way the gig sits up out o' the water. No boat o' her size, wi' six men aboard, could have her gunnel as high as that ere. No! If there be any besides the captain, there's only one or two. We needn't fear to go as nigh as we like. Let's put about, an' board the craft, anyhow. What say ye?"

"Haben't de leas' objecshun, Massa Brace, so long you link dar no fear. Dis chile ready take de chance. If dar be any odder cep'n de 'kipper, it no like dey am 'trong 'nuff to bully we nohow. De two ob us be equal match fo' any four ob dem,--say nuffin ob lilly Will'm."

"I feel a'most sartin," rejoined the sailor, still undecided, "there be only him. If that's the case, our best way is to close up, and take possession o' the boat. We may have some trouble wi' him if be's gone mad; an' from the way he be runnin' on, it do look like it. Never mind! I dare say we'll be able to manage him. Port about, an' let a see the thing through."

Snowball was at the steering-oar, and, thus commanded by her captain, he once more headed the _Catamaran_ in the direction of the drifting boat,--while the sailor and William betook them to the oars.

Whether the occupant of the gig had yet perceived the raft was not certain. It is likely he had not, since the yells and incoherent speeches to which he had been giving utterance appeared to be addressed to no one, but were more like--what they believed them to be--the wild ravings of a lunatic.

It was still only the grey twilight of morning, with a slight fog upon the water; and although through this the Catamarans had recognised the gig and captain of the _Pandora_ they had done so with certain souvenirs to guide them. Both the boat and its occupant had been seen only indistinctly: and it was possible that the latter had not seen them, and was still unsuspicious of their presence.

As they drew nearer, the light at each moment increasing in brightness, there was no longer any uncertainty as to their being seen; for, along with the yells uttered by the occupant of the gig, could be heard the significant speeches of, "Sail ho! Ship ahoy! What ship's that? Heave to, and be--Heave to, you infernal lubbers! if you don't I'll sink you!"

The manner in which these varied phrases were jumbled together, intermingled with screeching exclamations, as well as the excited and grotesque gestures that accompanied them, might have been ludicrous, but for the painful impression it produced.

There was no longer any doubt in the minds of those who witnessed his behaviour, that the ex-skipper of the _Pandora_ was mad. None but a madman would have spoken, or acted, as he was doing.

In the state he was in, it would be dangerous to go near him. This was evident to the occupants of the raft; and when they had arrived within a half-cable's length of the boat, they suspended the stroke of the oars,--with the intention of entering upon a parley, and seeing how far their words might tranquillise him.

"Captain!" cried the sailor, hailing his former commander in a friendly tone of voice: "it's me! Don't you know me? It's Ben Brace, one o' the old _Pandora_. We've been on this bit o' raft ever since the burnin' o' the bark. Myself and Snowball--"

At this moment the sailor's epitomised narrative was interrupted by a fiendish yell, proceeding from the throat of the maniac. They were now near enough to have a clear view of his face, and could note the expression of his features. The play of these, and the wild rolling of his eyes, confirmed them in their belief as to his insanity. There could be no doubt about it; but if there had, what soon after succeeded was proof sufficient to satisfy them.

During the continuance of the discourse addressed to him by the sailor, he had kept silent, until the word "Snowball" fell upon his ears. Then all at once he became terribly excited,--as was testified by a terrible shriek, a twitching contortion of his features, and a glaring in his eyes that was awful to behold.

"Snowball!" screamed he; "Snowball, you say, do you? Snowball, the infernal dog! Show him to me! Ach! Blood and furies! it was he that fired my ship. Where is he? Let me at him! Let me lay my hands upon his black throat! I'll teach the sneaking nigger how to carry a candle that'll light him into the next world. Snowball! Where,--where is he?"

At this moment his rolling orbs became suddenly steadied; and all could see that his gaze was fixed upon the Coromantee with a sort of desperate identification.

Snowball might have quailed under that glance, had there been time for him to take heed of it. But there was not: for upon the instant it was given the madman uttered another wild screech, and, rising into the air, sprang several feet over the gunwale of the gig.

For a second or two he was lost to sight under the water. Then, rising to the surface, he was seen swimming with vigorous sweep towards the _Catamaran_.

CHAPTER NINETY ONE.

THE INSANE SWIMMER.

A dozen strokes would have carried him up to the craft; which they could not have hindered him from boarding, except by using some deadly violence. To avoid this, the oars were plied; and the raft rapidly pulled in a contrary direction.

For all this, so swiftly did the maniac make way through the water, that it was just as much as they could do to keep the _Catamaran_ clear of his grasp; and it was only after Ben Brace and Snowball had got fairly bent to their oars, that they could insure themselves against being overtaken. Then became it a chase in which there was no great advantage in speed between the pursued and the pursuer; though what little there might have been was in favour of the former.

How long this singular chase might have continued, it is impossible to say. Perhaps until the lunatic had exhausted his insane strength, and sunk into the sea: since he appeared to have no idea of making an attempt to return to the boat. He never looked round to see how far he was leaving it behind him. On the contrary, he swam straight on, his eyes steadfastly fixed upon the one object that seemed to have possession of his soul,--the Coromantee! That it was of him only he was thinking could be told from his speech,--for even while in the water he continued to utter imprecations on the head of the negro,--his name being every moment mentioned in terms of menace.

The chase could not have lasted much longer,--even had it been permitted to terminate by the exhaustion of the insane swimmer. The supernatural strength of insanity could not forever sustain him; and in due time he would have sunk helplessly to the bottom of the sea.

But this was not the sort of death that Fate had designed for him. A still more violent ending of his life was in store for the unfortunate wretch. Though he himself knew it not, those aboard the _Catamaran_ had now become aware of its approach.

Behind him,--scarce half a cable's length,--two creatures were seen moving through the water. Horrible-looking creatures they were: for they were hammer-headed sharks! Both were conspicuously seen: for they had risen to the surface, and were swimming with their dark dorsal fins protruded above, and set with all the triangular sharpness of staysails. Although they had not been observed before by those on the _Catamaran_, they appeared to have been swimming in the proximity of the gig,--on which, beyond doubt, they had been for some time attending.

They were now advancing side by side, in the same direction as the swimmer, and there could be no doubt as to their design. They were evidently in chase of _him_, with as much eagerness as he was in chase of the _Catamaran_.

The wretched man neither saw nor thought of them. Even had he seen them it is questionable whether he would have made any attempt to escape from them. They would, in all likelihood, have appeared a part of the fearful phantasmagoria already filling his brain.

In any case he could not have eluded those earnest and eager pursuers,-- unless by the intervention of those upon the raft; and even had these wished to succour him, it would have required a most prompt and adroit interference. They _did_ wish it, even became desirous to save him. Their hearts melted within them as they saw the unfortunate man, maniac though he was, in such a situation. Fear him as they might,--and deem him an enemy as they did,--still was he a human being,--one of their own kind,--and their natural instinct of hostility towards those ravenous monsters of the deep had now obliterated that which they might have felt for him about to become their prey.

Risking everything from the encounter which they might expect with a madman, they suspended their oars, and then commenced backing towards him. Even Snowball exerted himself to bring the _Catamaran_ within saving distance of the wretch who, in his insane hatred, was threatening his own destruction.

Their good intentions, however, proved of no avail. The man was destined to destruction. Before they could get near enough to make any effective demonstration in his favour, the sharks had closed upon him. They who would have saved him saw it, and ceased their exertions to become spectators of the tragical catastrophe.

It was a brief affair. The monsters swam up, one on each side of their intended victim, till their uncouth bodies were parallel with his. He saw one of them first, and, with an instinct more true than his dethroned powers of reason, swerved out of the way to avoid it. The effort resulted in placing him within reach of the other, that, suddenly turning upon its side, grasped him between its extended jaws.

The shriek that followed appeared to proceed from only the half of his body; for the other half, completely dissevered, had been already carried off between the terrible teeth of the _zygaena_.

There was but one cry. There was not time for another, even had there been strength. Before it could have been uttered, the remaining moiety of the madman's body was seized by the second shark, and borne down into the voiceless abysm of the ocean!

CHAPTER NINETY TWO.

BOARDING THE BOAT.

Back to the boat! In the minds of the _Catamaran's_ crew naturally did this resolve succeed to the spectacle they had just witnessed. There was nothing to stay them on that spot. The bloodstained water, which momentarily marked the scene of the tragedy, had no further interest for those who had been spectators to it; and once more heading their craft for the drifting gig, they made way towards it as fast as their oars and the sail, now reset, would carry them.

They no longer speculated as to the boat being occupied by a crew,-- either sleeping or awake. In view of the events that had occurred, it was scarce possible that anyone, in either condition, could be aboard of her. She must have been abandoned, before that hour, by all but the solitary individual standing amidships, and pouring out his insane utterances to the ears of the ocean.

Where were the men that were missing? This was the question that occupied the crew of the _Catamaran_,--as they advanced towards the deserted gig--and to which they could give no satisfactory answer.

They could only shape conjectures,--none of which had much air of probability.

From what they knew or suspected to have occurred upon the large raft they could draw inferences of a revolting nature. It might be that the same course had been pursued among those in the gig; and yet it seemed scarce probable. It was known that the latter had gone off from the burning bark, if not sufficiently provided for a long voyage, at least with a stock of both food and water that should have sustained them for many days. Little William had been a witness of their departure, and could confirm these facts. Why then had their boat-voyage resulted so disastrously? It could not have arisen from want. It could not have been the gale.

In all probability, had the sea washed over them, the boat would either have been swamped or capsized. The captain alone could not have righted her. Besides, why should he be the only survivor of the six?

But there had not been storm enough for a disaster of this kind; and unless by some dire mismanagement, the men could not have fallen overboard.

Still puzzled to account for the strange condition of things, the crew of the _Catamaran_ continued to pull towards the gig, and at length came up with it.