19. CHAPTER XIX.
Jarl's oar showed sixteen notches on the loom, when
one evening, as the expanded sun touched the horizon's rim,
a ship's uppermost spars were observed, traced like a spider's
web against its crimson disk. It looked like a far-off craft
on fire.
In bright weather at sea, a sail, invisible in the full flood
of noon, becomes perceptible toward sunset. It is the reverse
in the morning. In sight at gray dawn, the distant
vessel, though in reality approaching, recedes from view, as
the sun rises higher and higher. This holds true, till its
vicinity makes it readily fall within the ordinary scope of
vision. And thus, too, here and there, with other distant
things: the more light you throw on them, the more you
obscure. Some revelations show best in a twilight.
The sight of the stranger not a little surprised us. But
brightening up, as if the encounter were welcome, Jarl
looked happy and expectant. He quickly changed his demeanor,
however, upon perceiving that I was bent upon
shunning a meeting.
Instantly our sails were struck; and calling upon Jarl,
who was somewhat backward to obey, I shipped the oars;
and, both rowing, we stood away obliquely from our former
course.
I divined that the vessel was a whaler; and hence, that
by help of the glass, with which her look-outs must be momentarily
sweeping the horizon, they might possibly have
descried us; especially, as we were due east from the ship;
a direction, which at sunset is the one most favorable for
perceiving a far-off object at sea. Furthermore, our canvas
was snow-white and conspicuous. To be sure, we could not
be certain what kind of a vessel it was; but whatever it
might be, I, for one, had no mind to risk an encounter; for
it was quite plain, that if the stranger came within hailing
distance, there would be no resource but to link our fortunes
with hers; whereas I desired to pursue none but the Chamois'.
As for the Skyeman, he kept looking wistfully over
his shoulder; doubtless, praying Heaven, that we might not
escape what I sought to avoid.
Now, upon a closer scrutiny, being pretty well convinced
that the stranger, after all, was steering a nearly westerly
course—right away from us—we reset our sail; and as
night fell, my Viking's entreaties, seconded by my own curiosity,
induced me to resume our original course; and so follow
after the vessel, with a view of obtaining a nearer
glimpse, without danger of detection. So, boldly we steered
for the sail.
But not gaining much upon her, spite of the lightness of
the breeze (a circumstance in our favor: the chase being a
ship, and we but a boat), at my comrade's instigation, we
added oars to sails, readily guiding our way by the former,
though the helm was left to itself.
As we came nearer, it was plain that the vessel was no
whaler; but a small, two-masted craft; in short, a brigantine.
Her sails were in a state of unaccountable disarray;
only the foresail, mainsail, and jib being set. The first
was much tattered; and the jib was hoisted but half
way up the stay, where it idly flapped, the breeze coming
from over the taffrail. She continually yawed in her
course; now almost presenting her broadside, then showing
her stern.
Striking our sails once more, we lay on our oars, and
watched her in the starlight. Still she swung from side to
side, and still sailed on.
Not a little terrified at the sight, superstitious Jarl more
than insinuated that the craft must be a gold-huntress,
haunted. But I told him, that if such were the case, we
must board her, come gold or goblins. In reality, however,
I began to think that she must have been abandoned by her
crew; or else, that from sickness, those on board were incapable
of managing her.
After a long and anxious reconnoiter, we came still
nearer, using our oars, but very reluctantly on Jarl's part;
who, while rowing, kept his eyes over his shoulder, as if
about to beach the little Chamois on the back of a whale
as of yore. Indeed, he seemed full as impatient to quit
the vicinity of the vessel, as before he had been anxiously
courting it.
Now, as the silent brigantine again swung round her
broadside, I hailed her loudly. No return. Again. But
all was silent. With a few vigorous strokes, we closed
with her, giving yet another unanswered hail; when, laying
the Chamois right alongside, I clutched at the main-chains.
Instantly we felt her dragging us along. Securing
our craft by its painter, I sprang over the rail, followed by
Jarl, who had snatched his harpoon, his favorite arms.
Long used with that weapon to overcome the monsters of
the deep, he doubted not it would prove equally serviceable
in any other encounter.
The deck was a complete litter. Tossed about were
pearl oyster shells, husks of cocoa-nuts, empty casks, and
cases. The deserted tiller was lashed; which accounted
for the vessel's yawing. But we could not conceive, how
going large before the wind, the craft could, for any considerable
time, at least, have guided herself without the
help of a hand. Still, the breeze was light and steady.
Now, seeing the helm thus lashed, I could not but distrust
the silence that prevailed. It conjured up the idea of
miscreants concealed below, and meditating treachery; unserupulous
mutineers—Lascars, or Manilla-men; who, having
murdered the Europeans of the crew, might not be
willing to let strangers depart unmolested. Or yet worse,
the entire ship's company might have been swept away by
a fever, its infection still lurking in the poisoned hull. And
though the first conceit, as the last, was a mere surmise, it
was nevertheless deemed prudent to secure the hatches,
which for the present we accordingly barred down with the
oars of our boat. This done, we went about the deck in
search of water. And finding some in a clumsy cask,
drank long and freely, and to our thirsty souls' content.
The wind now freshening, and the rent sails like to blow
from the yards, we brought the brigantine to the wind, and
brailed up the canvas. This left us at liberty to examine
the craft, though, unfortunately, the night was growing
hazy.
All this while our boat was still towing alongside; and I
was about to drop it astern, when Jarl, ever cautious, declared
it safer where it was; since, if there were people on
board, they would most likely be down in the cabin, from
the dead-lights of which, mischief might be done to the
Chamois.
It was then, that my comrade observed, that the brigantine
had no boats, a circumstance most unusual in any sort
of a vessel at sea. But marking this, I was exceedingly
gratified. It seemed to indicate, as I had opined, that from
some cause or other, she must have been abandoned of her
crew. And in a good measure this dispelled my fears of
foul play, and the apprehension of contagion. Encouraged
by these reflections, I now resolved to descend, and explore
the cabin, though sorely against Jarl's counsel. To be
sure, as he earnestly said, this step might have been deferred
till daylight; but it seemed too wearisome to wait. So
bethinking me of our tinder-box and candles, I sent him
into the boat for them. Presently, two candles were lit;
one of which the Skyeman tied up and down the barbed
end of his harpoon; so that upon going below, the keen
steel might not be far off, should the light be blown out by
a dastard.
Unfastening the cabin scuttle, we stepped downward into
the smallest and murkiest den in the world. The altar-like
transom, surmounted by the closed dead-lights in the stern,
together with the dim little sky-light overhead, and the somber
aspect of every thing around, gave the place the air of
some subterranean oratory, say a Prayer Room of Peter the
Hermit. But coils of rigging, bolts of canvas, articles of
clothing, and disorderly heaps of rubbish, harmonized not
with this impression. Two doors, one on each side, led into
wee little state-rooms, the berths of which also were littered.
Among other things, was a large box, sheathed with iron and
stoutly clamped, containing a keg partly filled with powder,
the half of an old cutlass, a pouch of bullets, and a case for
a sextant—a brass plate on the lid, with the maker's name,
London. The broken blade of the cutlass was very rusty
and stained; and the iron hilt bent in. It looked so tragical
that I thrust it out of sight.
Removing a small trap-door, opening into the space beneath,
called the “run,” we lighted upon sundry cutlasses
and muskets, lying together at sixes and sevens, as if pitched
down in a hurry.
Casting round a hasty glance, and satisfying ourselves,
that through the bulkhead of the cabin, there was no passage
to the forward part of the hold, we caught up the muskets
and cutlasses, the powder keg and the pouch of bullets, and
bundling them on deck, prepared to visit the other end of
the vessel. Previous to so doing, however, I loaded a musket,
and belted a cutlass to my side. But my Viking preferred
his harpoon.
In the forecastle reigned similar confusion. But there
was a snug little lair, cleared away in one corner, and furnished
with a grass mat and bolster, like those used among
the Islanders of these seas. This little lair looked to us as if
some leopard had crouched there. And as it turned out, we
were not far from right. Forming one side of this retreat,
was a sailor's chest, stoutly secured by a lock, and monstrous
heavy withal. Regardless of Jarl's entreaties, I managed to
burst the lid; thereby revealing a motley assemblage of
millinery, and outlandish knick-knacks of all sorts; together
with sundry rude calico contrivances, which though of unaccountable
cut, nevertheless possessed a certain petticoatish
air, and latitude of skirt, betokening them the habiliments
of some feminine creature; most probably of the human
species.
In this strong box, also, was a canvas bag, jingling with
rusty old bell-buttons, gangrened copper bolts, and sheathing
nails; damp, greenish Carolus dollars (true coin all), besides
divers iron screws, and battered chisels, and belaying-pins.
Sounded on the chest lid, the dollars rang clear as convent
bells. These were put aside by Jarl; the sight of substantial
dollars doing away, for the nonce, with his superstitious
misgivings. True to his kingship, he loved true coin; though
abroad on the sea, and no land but dollarless dominions
around, all this silver was worthless as charcoal or diamonds.
Nearly one and the same thing, say the chemists; but
tell that to the marines, say the illiterate Jews and the
jewelers. Go, buy a house, or a ship, if you can, with your
charcoal! Yea, all the woods in Canada charred down to
cinders would not be worth the one famed Brazilian diamond,
though no bigger than the egg of a carrier pigeon. Ah!
but these chemists are liars, and Sir Humphrey Davy a
cheat. Many's the poor devil they've deluded into the
charcoal business, who otherwise might have made his fortune
with a mattock.
Groping again into the chest, we brought to light a queer
little hair trunk, very bald and rickety. At every corner
was a mighty clamp, the weight of which had no doubt
debilitated the box. It was jealously secured with a padlock,
almost as big as itself; so that it was almost a question,
which was meant to be security to the other. Prying at it
hard, we at length effected an entrance; but saw no golden
moidores, no ruddy doubloons; nothing under heaven but
three pewter mugs, such as are used in a ship's cabin, several
brass screws, and brass plates, which must have belonged
to a quadrant; together with a famous lot of glass beads,
and brass rings; while, pasted on the inside of the cover,
was a little colored print, representing the harlots, the shameless
hussies, having a fine time with the Prodigal Son.
It should have been mentioned ere now, that while we
were busy in the forecastle, we were several times startled
by strange sounds aloft. And just after, crashing into the
little hair trunk, down came a great top-block, right through
the scuttle, narrowly missing my Viking's crown; a much
stronger article, by the way, than your goldsmiths turn out
in these days. This startled us much; particularly Jarl, as
one might suppose; but accustomed to the strange creakings
and wheezings of the masts and yards of old vessels at sea,
and having many a time dodged stray blocks accidentally
falling from aloft, I thought little more of the matter; though
my comrade seemed to think the noises somewhat different
from any thing of that kind he had ever heard before.
After a little more turning over of the rubbish in the forecastle,
and much marveling thereat, we ascended to the deck;
where we found every thing so silent, that, as we moved
toward the taffrail, the Skyeman unconsciously addressed me
in a whisper.
