We were gliding along, hardly three knots an hour, when my comrade,who had been dozing over the gunwale, suddenly started to his feet,and pointed out an immense Shovel-nosed Shark, less than a boat'slength distant, and about half a fathom beneath the surface. A lancewas at once snatched from its place; and true to his calling, Jarlwas about to dart it at the fish, when, interested by the sight ofits radiant little scouts, I begged him to desist.
One of them was right under the shark, nibbling at his ventral fin;another above, hovering about his dorsal appurtenance; one on eachflank; and a frisking fifth pranking about his nose, seemingly havingsomething to say of a confidential nature. They were of a bright,steel-blue color, alternated with jet black stripes; with glisteningbellies of a silver-white. Clinging to the back of the shark, werefour or five Remoras, or sucking-fish; snaky parasites, impossible toremove from whatever they adhere to, without destroying their lives.The Remora has little power in swimming; hence its sole locomotion ison the backs of larger fish. Leech-like, it sticketh closer than afalse brother in prosperity; closer than a beggar to the benevolent;closer than Webster to the Constitution. But it feeds upon what itclings to; its feelers having a direct communication with theesophagus.
The shark swam sluggishly; creating no sign of a ripple, but everand, anon shaking his Medusa locks, writhing and curling withhorrible life. Now and then, the nimble Pilot fish darted from hisside--this way and that--mostly toward our boat; but previous totaking a fresh start ever returning to their liege lord to reportprogress.
A thought struck me. Baiting a rope's end with a morsel of our almostuseless salt beef, I suffered it to trail in the sea. Instantly theforemost scout swam toward it; hesitated; paused; but at lastadvancing, briskly snuffed at the line, and taking one finicallittle nibble, retreated toward the shark. Another moment, and thegreat Tamerlane himself turned heavily about; pointing his black,cannon-like nose directly toward our broadside. Meanwhile, the littlePilot fish darted hither and thither; keeping up a mighty fidgeting,like men of small minds in a state of nervous agitation.
Presently, Tamerlane swam nearer and nearer, all the while lazilyeyeing the Chamois, as a wild boar a kid. Suddenly making a rush forit, in the foam he made away with the bait. But the next instant, theuplifted lance sped at his skull; and thrashing his requiem with hissinewy tail, he sunk slowly, through his own blood, out of sight.Down with him swam the terrified Pilot fish; but soon after, three ofthem were observed close to the boat, gliding along at a uniformpace; one an each side, and one in advance; even as they had attendedtheir lord. Doubtless, one was under our keel.
"A good omen," said Jarl; "no harm will befall us so long as they stay."
But however that might be, follow us they did, for many days after:until an event occurred, which necessitated their withdrawal.
CHAPTER XIXWho Goes There?
Jarl's oar showed sixteen notches on the loom, when one evening, asthe expanded sun touched the horizon's rim, a ship's uppermost sparswere 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 ofnoon, becomes perceptible toward sunset. It is the reverse in themorning. In sight at gray dawn, the distant vessel, though in realityapproaching, recedes from view, as the sun rises higher and higher.This holds true, till its vicinity makes it readily fall within theordinary scope of vision. And thus, too, here and there, with otherdistant things: the more light you throw on them, the more youobscure. Some revelations show best in a twilight.
The sight of the stranger not a little surprised us. But brighteningup, as if the encounter were welcome, Jarl looked happy andexpectant. He quickly changed his demeanor, however, upon perceivingthat I was bent upon shunning a meeting.
Instantly our sails were struck; and calling upon Jarl, who wassomewhat backward to obey, I shipped the oars; and, both rowing, westood away obliquely from our former course.
I divined that the vessel was a whaler; and hence, that by help ofthe glass, with which her look-outs must be momentarily sweeping thehorizon, they might possibly have descried us; especially, as we weredue east from the ship; a direction, which at sunset is theone 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 itmight be, I, for one, had no mind to risk an encounter; for it wasquite plain, that if the stranger came within hailing distance, therewould be no resource but to link our fortunes with hers; whereas Idesired to pursue none but the Chamois'. As for the Skyeman, he keptlooking wistfully over his shoulder; doubtless, praying Heaven, thatwe might not escape what I sought to avoid.
Now, upon a closer scrutiny, being pretty well convinced that thestranger, after all, was steering a nearly westerly course--rightaway from us--we reset our sail; and as night fell, my Viking'sentreaties, seconded by my own curiosity, induced me to resume ouroriginal course; and so follow after the vessel, with a view ofobtaining a nearer glimpse, without danger of detection. So, boldlywe 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 aboat), at my comrade's instigation, we added oars to sails, readilyguiding 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 asmall, two-masted craft; in short, a brigantine. Her sails were in astate of unaccountable disarray, only the foresail, mainsail, andjib being set. The first was much tattered; and the jib was hoistedbut half way up the stay, where it idly flapped, the breeze comingfrom over the taffrail. She continually yawed in her course; nowalmost presenting her broadside, then showing her stern.
Striking our sails once more, we lay on our oars, and watched her inthe starlight. Still she swung from side to side, and still sailed on.
Not a little terrified at the sight, superstitious Jarl more thaninsinuated that the craft must be a gold-huntress, haunted. But Itold him, that if such were the case, we must board her, come gold orgoblins. In reality, however, I began to think that she must havebeen abandoned by her crew; or else, that from sickness, those onboard were incapable of managing her.
After a long and anxious reconnoiter, we came still nearer, using ouroars, but very reluctantly on Jarl's part; who, while rowing, kepthis eyes over his shoulder, as if about to beach the little Chamoison the back of a whale as of yore. Indeed, he seemed full asimpatient to quit the vicinity of the vessel, as before he had beenanxiously courting it.
Now, as the silent brigantine again swung round her broadside, Ihailed her loudly. No return. Again. But all was silent. With a fewvigorous strokes, we closed with her, giving yet another unansweredhail; when, laying the Chamois right alongside, I clutched at themain-chains. Instantly we felt her dragging us along. Securing ourcraft by its painter, I sprang over the rail, followed by Jarl, whohad snatched his harpoon, his favorite arms. Long used with thatweapon to overcome the monsters of the deep, he doubted not it wouldprove equally serviceable in any other encounter.
The deck was a complete litter. Tossed about were pearl oystershells, husks of cocoa-nuts, empty casks, and cases. The desertedtiller was lashed; which accounted for the vessel's yawing. But wecould not conceive, how going large before the wind; the craft could,for any considerable time, at least, have guided herself without thehelp of a hand. Still, the breeze was light and steady.
Now, seeing the helm thus lashed, I could not but distrust thesilence that prevailed. It conjured up the idea of miscreantsconcealed below, and meditating treachery; unscrupulous mutineers--Lascars, or Manilla-men; who, having murdered the Europeans ofthe crew, might not be willing to let strangers depart unmolested. Oryet worse, the entire ship's company might have been swept away by afever, its infection still lurking in the poisoned hull. And thoughthe first conceit, as the last, was a mere surmise, it wasnevertheless deemed prudent to secure the hatches,
which for thepresent we accordingly barred down with the oars of our boat. Thisdone, we went about the deck in search of water. And finding some ina clumsy cask, drank long and freely, and to our thirsty souls'content.
The wind now freshening, and the rent sails like to blow from theyards, we brought the brigantine to the wind, and brailed up thecanvas. 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 aboutto drop it astern, when Jarl, ever cautious, declared it safer whereit was; since, if there were people on board, they would most likelybe down in the cabin, from the dead-lights of which, mischief mightbe done to the Chamois.
It was then, that my comrade observed, that the brigantine had noboats, 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 beenabandoned of her crew. And in a good measure this dispelled my fearsof foul play, and the apprehension of contagion. Encouraged by thesereflections, I now resolved to descend, and explore the cabin, thoughsorely against Jarl's counsel. To be sure, as he earnestly said, thisstep might have been deferred till daylight; but it seemed toowearisome to wait. So bethinking me of our tinder-box and candles, Isent him into the boat for them. Presently, two candles were lit; oneof 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 smallestand murkiest den in the world. The altar-like transom, surmounted bythe closed dead-lights in the stem, together with the dim little sky-light overhead, and the somber aspect of every thing around, gave theplace the air of some subterranean oratory, say a Prayer Room ofPeter the Hermit. But coils of rigging, bolts of canvas, articles ofclothing, and disorderly heaps of rubbish, harmonized not with thisimpression. 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 akeg partly filled with powder, the half of an old cutlass, a pouch ofbullets, and a case for a sextant--a brass plate on the lid, with themaker's name. London. The broken blade of the cutlass was very rustyand stained; and the iron hilt bent in. It looked so tragical that Ithrust it out of sight.
Removing a small trap-door, opening into the space beneath, calledthe "run," we lighted upon sundry cutlasses and muskets, lyingtogether at sixes and sevens, as if pitched down in a hurry.
Casting round a hasty glance, and satisfying ourselves, that throughthe bulkhead of the cabin, there was no passage to the forward partof the hold, we caught up the muskets and cutlasses, the powder kegand the pouch of bullets, and bundling them on deck, prepared tovisit the other end of the vessel. Previous to so doing, however, Iloaded a musket, and belted a cutlass to my side. But my Vikingpreferred his harpoon.
In the forecastle reigned similar confusion. But there was a snuglittle lair, cleared away in one corner, and furnished with a grassmat 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 oneside of this retreat, was a sailor's chest, stoutly secured by alock, and monstrous heavy withal. Regardless of Jarl's entreaties, Imanaged to burst the lid; thereby revealing a motley assemblage ofmillinery, and outlandish knick-knacks of all sorts; together withsundry rude Calico contrivances, which though of unaccountable cut,nevertheless possessed a certain petticoatish air, and latitude ofskirt, 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 oldbell-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 Jarlthe sight of substantial dollars doing away, for the nonce, with hissuperstitious Misgivings. True to his kingship, he loved true coin;though abroad on the sea, and no land but dollarless dominionsground, all this silver was worthless as charcoal or diamonds. Nearlyone and the same thing, say the chemists; but tell that to themarines, say the illiterate Jews and the jewelers. Go, buy a house,or a ship, if you can, with your charcoal! Yea, all the woods inCanada charred down to cinders would not be worth the one famedBrazilian 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, whootherwise might have made his fortune with a mattock.
Groping again into the chest, we brought to light a queer little hairtrunk, very bald and rickety. At every corner was a mighty clamp, theweight of which had no doubt debilitated the box. It was jealouslysecured with a padlock, almost as big as itself; so that it wasalmost a question, which was meant to be security to the other.Prying at it hard, we at length effected an entrance; but sawno golden moidores, no ruddy doubloons; nothing under heaven butthree pewter mugs, such as are used in a ship's cabin, several brassscrews, 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 timewith the Prodigal Son.
It should have been mentioned ere now, that while we were busy in theforecastle, we were several times startled by strange sounds aloft.And just after, crashing into the little hair trunk, down came agreat top-block, right through the scuttle, narrowly missing myViking's crown; a much stronger article, by the way, than yourgoldsmiths turn out in these days. This startled us much;particularly Jarl, as one might suppose; but accustomed to thestrange creakings and wheezings of the masts and yards of old vesselsat sea, and having many a time dodged stray blocks accidentallyfalling from aloft, I thought little more of the matter; though mycomrade seemed to think the noises somewhat different from any thingof that kind he had even 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 foundevery thing so silent, that, as we moved toward the taffrail, theSkyeman unconsciously addressed me in a whisper.
CHAPTER XXNoises And Portents
I longed for day. For however now inclined to believe that thebrigantine was untenanted, I desired the light of the sun to placethat fact beyond a misgiving.
Now, having observed, previous to boarding the vessel, that she layrather low in the water, I thought proper to sound the well. Butthere being no line-and-sinker at hand, I sent Jarl to hunt them upin the arm-chest on the quarter-deck, where doubtless they must bekept. Meanwhile I searched for the "breaks," or pump-handles, which,as it turned out, could not have been very recently used; for theywere found lashed up and down to the main-mast.
Suddenly Jarl came running toward me, whispering that all doubt wasdispelled;--there were spirits on board, to a dead certainty. He hadoverheard a supernatural sneeze. But by this time I was all butconvinced, that we were alone in the brigantine. Since, if otherwise,I could assign no earthly reason for the crew's hiding away from acouple of sailors, whom, were they so minded, they might easily havemastered. And furthermore, this alleged disturbance of the atmospherealoft by a sneeze, Jarl averred to have taken place in the main-top;directly underneath which I was all this time standing, and had heardnothing. So complimenting my good Viking upon the exceeding delicacyof his auriculars, I bade him trouble himself no more with hispiratical ghosts and goblins, which existed nowhere but in his ownimagination.
Not finding the line-and-sinker, with the spare end of a bowline werigged a substitute; and sounding the well, found nothing to exciteour alarm. Under certain circumstances, however, this sounding aship's well is a nervous sort of business enough. 'Tis like feeli
ngyour own pulse in the last stage of a fever.
At the Skyeman's suggestion, we now proceeded to throw round thebrigantine's head on the other tack. For until daylight we desired toalter the vessel's position as little as possible, fearful of comingunawares upon reefs.
And here be it said, that for all his superstitious misgivings aboutthe brigantine; his imputing to her something equivalent to a purelyphantom-like nature, honest Jarl was nevertheless exceedinglydownright and practical in all hints and proceedings concerning her.Wherein, he resembled my Right Reverend friend, Bishop Berkeley--truly, one of your lords spiritual--who, metaphysically speaking,holding all objects to be mere optical delusions, was, notwith-standing, extremely matter-of-fact in all matters touchingmatter itself. Besides being pervious to the points of pins, andpossessing a palate capable of appreciating plum-puddings:--whichsentence reads off like a pattering of hailstones.
Now, while we were employed bracing round the yards, whispering Jarlmust needs pester me again with his confounded suspicions of goblinson board. He swore by the main-mast, that when the fore-yard swunground, he had heard a half-stifled groan from that quarter; as if oneof his bugbears had been getting its aerial legs jammed. I laughed:--hinting that goblins were incorporeal. Whereupon he besought me toascend the fore-rigging and test the matter for myself But here mymature judgment got the better of my first crude opinion. I civillydeclined. For assuredly, there was still a possibility, that thefore-top might be tenanted, and that too by living miscreants; and apretty hap would be mine, if, with hands full of rigging, and legsdangling in air, while surmounting the oblique futtock-shrouds, some unseen arm should all at once tumble me overboard.Therefore I held my peace; while Jarl went on to declare, that withregard to the character of the brigantine, his mind was now prettyfully made up;--she was an arrant impostor, a shade of a ship, fullof sailors' ghosts, and before we knew where we were, would dissolvein a supernatural squall, and leave us twain in the water. In short,Jarl, the descendant of the superstitious old Norsemen, was full ofold Norse conceits, and all manner of Valhalla marvels concerning theland of goblins and goblets. No wonder then, that with this catastrophein prospect, he again entreated me to quit the ill-starred craft,carrying off nothing from her ghostly hull. But I refused.