CHAPTER EX.
DESPA3R. Tttfluoii the hands and the wrists, and even titie of onr hero were swollen anclfoentu^bed to an extent itbat would ha/c rendered them well nigh gvowerless ousan ordinary occasion, yet, in tire supreme naed of the moment, with but ,-a-is£ngle offorfc between himself and swift desDruction, he fell his arms grow strong, and tlieir excruciating pain was forgotten. Kis brain wasclear? and, as was natural with him in 1 , great when &. human life] might .depend upon the decision of 1 a moment, he was cool and collected. He remembered the spot where Crandal had sto|3ped,and to it he went; f-nd with his right hand he very soon found the hole where the water was pouring swiftly in. What shctald he do? There w»& but one thing : press his hand over the hole — he judged it ,*o be an inch and a quarter in diameter hold it there until t^e lightning should. come again to help hint. He had not £o wait long before tine flood of light came,, and he saw within reach, floating upojj Jhe surface of the eddying water, the plug £hat had been taken /rom the auger-hole. To grasp it and kUp it into its place wa* fche work of a very Jew seconds. Then is remembered that sjie boatss rudder lay mi the floor of the stern sheets— or did lie there— together with tbe tiller. He had thought first of the latter instrument ; but, on second thought, he chose the rudder, which was rendered heavy by its iron fixtures ; and having found it, he used it as a maul with which to drive the plug well home. The next movement — no rest yet — was to look for something with which to bail the water from the boat. It was now nearly, if not quite, a third full ; and considering the eea that was on, it was imminently dangerous." The next blaze in the dark vault revealed the very thing he wanted - a wooden bucket floating forward. He reached it, and went at work. It was tedious, and, at first, painful ; but after a time the exercise seemed to limber his wrists and reduce the swelling, and by and by the pain was forgotten. The task was completed at length, and without mishap, after which, feeling the pains of thirst, he looked around for fresh water. He obtained immediate relief by sucking the wet from his drenched clothing. He had with him two handkerchiefs — linen ; these he spread to catch the rain, which was still falling ; and thus, after a time, his thirst was quenched. And now he sat down to think. First he took out his watch, protecting it from the rain with his cap, and waited for the light of the next electric bolt. It came ere long, and he caught the hour exact. Half-past twelve — half an hour after midnight ! And now, where was he ? But, first of his situation. The rain was still falling : and he did not think the wind had changed. If it had not, it was blowing a good stiff breeze from the northeast - directly down the Channel. There was considerable sea, but it was not chopping. The wind and the tide were in the same direction, so that dangerous condition of the sea was not present. Of course it was dark, but not so dark as it had- been. Not only had the young doctor's eyes become used to the gloom, but the moon had now gained a high altitude, and something of her light must have struggled through the dense curtain of the storm. Occasionally a sea broke over the side, but not many of them. Though the boat was drifting as she would — most of the time broadside to the wind — she was light and buoyant, and rode the seas well. She had been, in her day, an excellent little pleasure boat ; and though now apparently old, she was tight and serviceable, And now— where was he? He thought the matter over. He remembered that it was flood tide at ten o'clock, or a few minutes before. The tide had been near its flood when the two boats had left the shore— so near that though the ruffians had pulled against it, it had not seriously interfered with their progress. Since ten o'clock both wind and tide had been setting the frail barque towards the broad Atlantic. Kalph reckoned it as closely as he could, and came to the conclusion that he hod
passed the meridian of Lizard Point. The nearest "point of the coast of England was probably thirty miles distant, and before morning he would be beyoud.tho limits of the Channel, os the bosom of the Atlantic o<x-nn. Of present clanger he had little fear. The storm was but a summer's thunder shower, prolonged into a drenching rain, with a sweep of wind not at all dangerous, He could not help thinking of the thousands of husbandmen, on shore, lying aimgly in their beds, blessing the Heavenly Father for the self-same rain which was making so much discomfort for him ; and the thought gave him strength to endure, Of his personal property the ruffians had taken not a thing. Once he fancied that one of the helpers cast a longing eye upon his gold watch-guard and upon the brilliant diamond on his linger ; but the chief had forbidden them. He, Ralph— could well understand, now that he knew who that chief was, why ho had been unwilling that any item of property should be taken from the person of his victim which might be recognised on shore. His gold watch was plainly marked — his name, and the story of its giving, engraved on the inside of the case ; and the diamond was histories-one of those rare gems known to every lapidary in Engrland, and on the continent. And now came thoughts that drove the pwfferer almost frantic. The more he dwelt upon it, the stronger become the conviction to his mind that Dr. Lawrence — now Sir Lawrence ftale was dead, or at least that some accident had befallen him that might result in -death. If such were the case, what might be the situation of Morna ? For a time, cinder the torture of his wild imagining*, he really beofeme frantic, but by , and by^ when he had grown more calm, and had settled down to a dispassionate considerflfuion, he told himself that Jonas Cranial could have no power to do her harir. Fortunately for Mm, he had not imagined, ; nor could he imagine, a thing so dangerous ! to'Morna's peace -«nd well-being as was that sinple sheofc of Hank white paper with Imvrence Dale's toame honestly written on U s margin, whfoh the archplotter -carried tnugly folded **vay in his pocket-book, -or Tiad under lock and key at the abhey, He remembered itoftt the good Uoctor had given Mr (Vandal no shadow of authority over his child ; and, farther, should he attempt to exercise such she Could apply to any oacofj her many dear and influential friends, whowould reada§y give her all weeded sprocee- : tion. Bub all Uhis was under fh« supposition that he was 1 himself to be absent for a length of time. Hj hoped it might not 'be. Indeed, he had every reason to believe tlwit with the .coming of the day he should fall in with ii x vessel that would speedily Ha»& him on British soil. Fortuno! Ely , the acccideaatal 'dUeeorvery -of a drinking-cup, hanging zander ttbe rail iat the bows, led him to think >of gathering a little fredh water while he, had .a chance. The cup, Jiolding a pint and afoalf, <bsA hung so ii-at no salt water Ibad uemaine&in it, and pisobably but very little 'had entered it. Spreading everything she tcould raisein the shape *of cotton and liran lakroc to ithe •rain, he -managed, by allowing .the ipieces^to become saturated and then wringing outtthe water iafca the cup, to completely jfilliit. Against . &lie stern of the boat was .a oloee box or looter, on the tightly- fitting 1 cover of which . Ahe comb of the tiller was fixed. In this place the precious cnj» -was aeem^ed, and shut a?,way from the salt epray anjl breaking &eas. Scarcely had the ill-stajred youfch secuted his measure of fresh -water *vhen the rain ofif-sed to falL It did not gradually, bat a smart shower beemerl to pour down fiom a passing ciowdL, and *■ ifch the sweepijat on of the fount the flood . stopped. T»o last time he had been .able \v,o consult his watch he had found the ftjands pointing to half -past one. That kad feeen before he had begun to gather his fK^sh water, aa r i he judged that it m.upfc be now very near to half-pa&t two. Vhough wet to the skin, it did not cause him much diseotEpiJort. His blood was pure arulswarm, his circulation rapid ; his whole system, in short, gloAving with robust healtfc and vigour. As he sat now, with nofchittg upon his thoughts but the situation, he felt^in irresistible disposition to sleep, and after a little reflection he resolved to give an fcour or two to v the oblivious rest, if he could. He was confident that the first peep of d&wn would arouse him. Further, he saw no danger to the boat. The wind was still fairly fresh, but the ittle barque rode the seas Jike a cork, with never a disposition to overturn, or ship any large amount of water. However, jwiy accident of that description would call him up on the instant, So he fixed himself safely in the sternsheets, half sitting and half lying, with his Scotch cap under his head for a pillow, and was soon fast asleep. He slept and dreamed dreamed for the third or fourth time that awfully significant dream of shipwreck and destruction, in the midst of which from the storm-lashed sea, Morna's father called to him for help. And he saw the good old doctor go down into the grave of the waters with an expression of agony on his kindly face that stirred the dreamer to his profoundest depths. It was the same look he had seen at least twice before, and the self-same cry of anguish had sounded the third time on his ears. With a low, wailing cry, he started up and opened his eyes. For a few moments he was utterly bewildered. When he had awakened from that same dream before he had found himself in his own bed, with a dimly-lighted gas jet near its foot shedding light enough to cast weird shadows in the room. For the moment he was in wild alarm. The gas was flaming !— the whole side of his chamber was aflame ! But his senses were soon collected, and he remembered the events of the night. His face, as he reclined, was turned towards the rising sun, about half the glowing disc being above the horizon. The storm had passed ; the wind had settled to a steady breeze, still from the eastward ; and the only clouds to be seen were a few cumulus masses hanging low in the west, where the storm had passed away. Ralph sat up and looked around. His first thought, after he had accounted to himself for his situation, was of help, and he strained his eyes in every direction ; but only a boundless waste of waters met his gaze. No land, no sail— nothing anywhere in sight but the blue arch above and the bluer solitude around him. Where he was he knew not, nor had he any means of judging, saving only this : From the direction of the rising sun he knew that the Sciliy Islands, u he had passed them, c if he were near their meridian, must he at a considerable distance to the northward. He must have left the English Channel not far from midway of its mouth, and had hence drifted out into the ocean. But never mind. Wherever it was, it could not be a great while before a sail would appear. He only prayed now for a friendly sail. His boat was tight ; the plug had not started ; nor was there a leak anywhere. He bailed out the small quantity of water that had come in over the gunwales ; then he took a few swallows from his tin cup, the contents of which he found pure and sweet ; and then ho sat down to watch and wait. The thought of watching, simple as it was, reminded him of the vratcn in bis
pocket -the first time he had given it a thought since' he awoke. He drew it forth from the protected rest he had given it, and found it unharmed. The cases liad foeen warranted water-tight, and they were doubtless so. At all events, it was running perfectly; its tick clear and sharp; its dial dry ; and when he opened the back to wind it he found, no moisture there, It was now half-park five s6mewhat early tor bveakfast; but considering that he had eaten no supper on the previous evening, it is not to be wondered "at that he should have experienced a slight craving of hunger. However, he could wait until some inwardbound vessel should pick him up. It could not be a great while, he Isold himself. But how, if a vessel should pass at a distance, should he signal to her V There was no oar ; not even a boat-hook ; nothing that could serve him for a signal-btxiff, saving the poor tiller. This, however, toy want of a better, he put to use. To it he made fast his large handkerchief, finding in the sternlocker a few bits of spun-yarn with which to secure the two corners. When it was prepared he laid it aside, and rosumed his watch. I It was now very neariy seven o'clock. Seven - half-past seven ; eight half-past eight ; nine ten. Ten o'clock, and not a spot upon the broad expanse of water like a sail. At ten o'clock he went to his can of water, and staited to drink. He paused and reflected. It was not quite half gone. There was little more than half a pint remaining. Something whispered to him that he should be saving of the only lifesustaining thing he had, beyond the free, fresh air of heaven. He took a simple sip ; and then, blessing of blessings ! he chanced to think that he had somewhere about his jjereon a sKiall magnifying glass, which he had used in microscopic examination of abnormal tissues of the human body. He drew his cigar-case from his breast pocket —it Was full of the very best- Cabana*. They were v.oist, but the ca&e was of -n leather tightly clasped, mid the ily '■ moisture that had reached them hai >cer» such :fcs had soaked through thesuli anoe of the leather through thedrenched cluihin<r. Hb found his magnifying glass, and havmg theKowith brought the bright. ray* of 'tine -sun to a sharp focus on the end Of the •oigxr, he had it quickly -alight. He was ntfc a great smoker — not bound to the "habit '•beyond the power of leaving it off "when • occasion or propriety required ; but he found solid comfort in that smoke- fit that •time. It quieted and soothed his" -spirit ; ■and, for a little time, Jailed his heart with gratitude ; and, moreover, by partially benumbing his appetite, it indirectly made up in a measure for the of food. Twelve o'clock. - Meridian. The lonely voyager had just put away 3iis watch, when his eye caught a sail --a small, white speck on the western horizon. He -stood up, and swung his signal above Ms bead. Then he thought how foolish he was ; au&, with a sigh, he sat down and waited. Would the sail come nearer ?— Yes, jwa ! - Nearer and nearer still, until, at the end erf anrhour, he | saw the royals, and topgaEsnt -saile, and a i portion of the topsails of .aihip. And now he held aloft Ms signal. The . minutes passed on, till shaK-paet one, when he saw, with a sinking heart, that .the ship would pass far to the ttontihwrard of him If he could »ot attract her notice. '0 3 for a pair of oars ! — for even .a paddle. He thought of the rudder, and tried :to use that as a paddle ; but it was too Qiunbersome. There was no way in which he ..could grasp it so as to use it wa£h effacl. Again he stood up and gave to the bKeeze 'jkiis signal. Aloft he waved it, &s high as Ike could readi ; and he added 3ais >voice, bhouting until he was hoarse. cO ! the agony of it ! The great &bip-4ie believed her to" be English, and homew.ard bound — passed shim without varying iher eoucse in the least degree. She was .-ae near that occasionally, when both hiss boat and she arose upou a sea at the same itiuae., he could see the whole of her hall, and _yet he coiild not attract the attention of a living aaul. 0, the Agony of ifc ! — the hopeless, heartrending misery ! When the ship had gone so far beyoaid him that her hail bad sunk from sight, he sat down and bowed his head upon tis hands, and, for ■the first time since the calamity had fallen ujponjn'm, ho wept aloud. He cried heartily. The hours j*issed on, and at four o'clock the despairing youth saw another sail — smaller than the first, and to the southward. That, also, was .bound toward the dear old home, but he signalled in vain. He discovered that it Avas a brig, and that was all. The hull he dj<l not see. Night shut in without the sight of another sail. At ten o'clock the moon was above the horizon, and he ventured to wetfjis lips with fresh water. After this, faist and weary, he threw himself down upon the boat's flooring and slept. He awoke twice, with parched lips and fevered tongue ; but he would not touch his treasured drops of fresh water. Morning came again, and in his agony the last drop of water was swallowed. He must see a sail soon. There should be scores of them passing to and fro. Ah ! had he known that he was too far south for vessels bound from the western continent, and too far north and west for those coming from the south, he might have understood it. The second day passed, and another night. With the rising of another sun he staggered up, when a lurch of the boat threw him over, his head striking a thwart as he fell ; and he knew no more of painno more of agony. His senses were locked in a faint like unto that of death.
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Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 201, 30 April 1887, Page 11
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3,135CHAPTER EX. Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 201, 30 April 1887, Page 11
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