CHAPTER XLVII.
THAT cloud was really the smoke of the _Springbok,_ which had mountedinto air so thin that it could rise no higher. The boat herself was manymiles to the northward, returning full of heavy hearts from a fruitlesssearch. She came back in a higher parallel of latitude, intendingafterward to steer N.W. to Easter Island. The life was gone out of theship; the father was deeply dejected, and the crew could no longer feignthe hope they did not feel. Having pursued the above course to withinfour hundred miles of Juan Fernandez, General Rolleston begged thecaptain to make a bold deviation to the S.W., and then see if they couldfind nothing there before going to Easter Island.
Captain Moreland was very unwilling to go to the S.W., the more so ascoal was getting short. However, he had not the heart to refuse GeneralRolleston anything. There was a northerly breeze. He had the fires putout, and, covering the ship with canvas, sailed three hundred miles S.W.But found nothing. Then he took in sail, got up steam again, and away forEaster Island. The ship ran so fast that she had got into latitudethirty-two by ten A.M. next morning.
At 10h. 15m. the dreary monotony of this cruise was broken by the man atthe mast-head.
"On deck there!"
"Hullo!"
"The schooner on our weather-bow!"
"Well, what of her?"
"She has luffed."
"Well, what o' that?"
"She has altered her course."
"How many points?"
"She was sailing S.E., and now her head is N.E."
"That is curious."
General Rolleston, who had come and listened with a grain of hope, nowsighed, and turned away.
The captain explained kindly that the man was quite right to draw hiscaptain's attention to the fact of a trading-vessel altering her course."There is a sea-grammar, general," said he; "and, when one seaman seesanother violate it, he concludes there is some reason or other. Now,Jack, what d'ye make of her?"
"I can't make much of her; she don't seem to know her own mind, that isall. At ten o'clock she was bound for Valparaiso or the Island. But nowshe has come about and beating to windward."
"Bound for Easter Island?"
"I dunno."
"Keep your eye on her."
"Ay, ay, sir."
Captain Moreland told General Rolleston that very few ships went toEaster Island, which lies in a lovely climate, but is a miserable place;and he was telling the general that it is inhabited by savages of a loworder, who half worship the relics of masonry left by their morecivilized predecessors, when Jack hailed the deck again.
"Well," said the captain.
"I think she is bound for the _Springbok."_
The soldier received this conjecture with astonishment and incredulity,not to be wondered at. The steamboat headed N.W.; right in the wind'seye. Sixteen miles off, at least, a ship was sailing N.E. So that the twocourses might be represented thus:
/ / A / B
And there hung in the air, like a black mark against the blue sky, afellow, whose oracular voice came down and said B was endeavoring tointercept A.
Nevertheless, time confirmed the conjecture; the schooner, having made ashort board to the N.E., came about, and made a long board due west,which was as near as he could lie to the wind. On this Captain Morelandlaid the steamboat's head due north. This brought the vessels rapidlytogether.
When they were about two miles distant, the stranger slackened sail andhove to, hoisting stars and stripes at her mizzen. The union jack went upthe shrouds of the _Springbok_ directly, and she pursued her course, butgradually slackened her steam.
General Rolleston walked the deck in great agitation, and now indulged inwild hopes, which Captain Moreland thought it best to discourage at once.
"Ah, sir," he said; "don't you run into the other extreme, and imagine hehas come on our business. It is at sea as it is ashore. If a man goes outof his course to speak to you, it is for his own sake, not yours. ThisYankee has got men sick with scurvy, and is come for lime-juice. Or hiswater is out. Or--hallo, savages aboard." It was too true. The schoonerhad a cargo of savages, male and female; the males were nearly naked, butthe females, strange to say, were dressed to the throat in ample robeswith broad and flowing skirts and had little coronets on their heads. Assoon as the schooner hove to, the fiddle had struck up, and the savageswere now dancing in parties of four; the men doing a sort of monkeyhornpipe in quick pace, with their hands nearly touching the ground; thewomen, on the contrary, erect and queenly, swept about in slow rhythm,with most graceful and coquettish movements of the arms and hands, andbewitching smiles.
The steamboat came alongside, but at a certain distance, to avoid allchance of collision; and the crew clustered at the side and cheered thesavages dancing. The poor general was forgotten at the merry sight.
Presently a negro in white cotton, with a face blacker than the savages,stepped forward and hoisted a board, on which was printed very large, AREYOU
Having allowed this a moment to sink into the mind, he reversed theboard, and showed these words, also printed large, THE _SPRINGBOK?_
There was a thrilling murmur on board; and, after a pause of surprise,the question was answered by a loud cheer and waving of hats.
The reply was perfectly understood; almost immediately a boat was loweredby some novel machinery and pulled toward the steamer. There were two menin it, the skipper and the negro. The skipper came up the side of the_Springbok._ He was loosely dressed in some light drab-colored stuff anda huge straw hat; a man with a long Puritanical head, a nose inclined tobe aquiline, a face bronzed by weather and heat, thin, resolute lips, anda square chin. But for a certain breadth between his keen gray eyes,which revealed more intellect than Cromwell's Ironsides were encumberedwith, he might have passed for one of that hard-praying, hard-hittingfraternity.
He came on deck, just touched his hat, as if to brush away a fly, and,removing an enormous cigar from his mouth, said, "Wal, and so this is the_Springbok._ Spry little boat she is; how many knots can ye get out ofher now? Not that I am curious."
"About twelve knots."
"And when the steam's off the bile, how many can you sail? Not that it ismy business."
"Eight or nine. What _is_ your business?"
"Hum! You have been over _some_ water looking for that gal. Where do yehail from last?"
"The Society Islands. Did you board me to hear me my catechism?"
"No, I am not one of your prying sort. Where are ye bound for now?"
"I am bound for Easter Island."
"Have you heard anything of the gal?"
"No."
"And when do ye expec' to go back to England as wise as ye came?"
"Never while the ship can swim," cried Moreland angrily, to hide hisdespondency from this stranger. "And now it is my turn, I think. Whatschooner is this? by whom commanded, and whither bound?"
"The _Julia Dodd;_ Joshua Fullalove; bound for Juan Fernandez with theraw material of civilization--look at the varmint skippin'--and aprinting-press; an' that's the instrument of civilization, I ratherthink."
"Well, sir; and why in Heaven's name did you change your course?"
"Wal, I reckon I changed it--to tell you a lie."
"To tell us a lie?"
"Ay; the darnedest etarnal lie that ever came out of a man's mouth. Fust,there's an unknown island somewheres about. That's a kinder flourishbeforehand. On that island there's an English gal wrecked."
Exclamations burst forth on every side at this.
"And she is so tarnation 'cute, she is flying ducks all over creationwith a writing tied to their legs, telling the tale, and setting down thelongitude. There, if that isn't a buster, I hope I may never live to tellanother."
"God bless you, sir," cried the general. "Where is the island?"
"What island?"
"The island where my child is wrecked."
"What, are you the gal's father?" said Joshua, with a sudden touch offeeling.
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p; "I am, sir. Pray withhold nothing from me you know."
"Why, cunule," said the Yankee, soothingly; "don't I tell you it's abuster? However, the lie is none o' mine, it's that old cuss Skinflintset it afloat; he is always pisoning these peaceful waters."
Rolleston asked eagerly who Skinflint was, and where he could be found.
"Wal, he is a sorter sea Jack-of-all-trades, etarnally cruising about tobuy gratis--those he buys of call it stealing. Got a rotten old cutter,manned by his wife and fam'ly. They get coal out of me for fur, and sellthe coal at double my price; they kill seals and dress the skins aboard;kill fish and salt 'em aboard. Ye know when that fam'ly is at sea by thesmell that pervades the briny deep an' heralds their approach. Yesterdaythe air smelt awful. So I said to Vespasian here, 'I think that sea-skunkis out, for there's something a-pisoning the cerulean waves an'succumambient air.' We hadn't sailed not fifty miles more before we runagin him. Their clothes were drying all about the rigging. Hails me, thevarmint does. Vesp and I, we work the printing-press together, an' soorder him to looward, not to taint our Otaheitans, that stink of ile athome, but I had 'em biled before I'd buy 'em, an' now they're vilets.'Wal now, Skinflint,' says I; 'I reckon you're come to bring me thatharpoon o' mine you stole last time you was at my island?' 'I never sawyour harpoon,' says he; 'I want to know have you come across the_Springbok?'_ 'Mebbe I have,' says I; 'why do you ask?' 'Got news forher,' says he; 'and can't find her nowheres.' So then we set to andfenced a bit; and this old varmint, to put me off the truth, told me thebuster. A month ago or more he was boarded--by a duck. And this yar duckhad a writing tied to his leg, and this yar writing said an English galwas wrecked on an island, and put down the very longitude. 'Show me thatduck,' says I, ironical. 'D'ye take us for fools?' says he; 'we ate theduck for supper.' 'That was like ye,' says I; 'if an angel brought yourpardon down from heights celestial, you'd roast him, and sell hisfeathers for swan's-down; mebbe ye ate the writing? I know y' are ahungry lot.' 'The writing is in my cabin,' says he. 'Show it me,' says I,'an' mebbe I'll believe ye.' No, the cuss would only show it to the_Springbok;_ 'there's a reward,' says he. 'What's the price of a soulaboard your cutter?' I asked him. 'Have you parted with yours, as youwant to buy one?' says he. 'Not one as would carry me right slick away toeverlasting blazes,' says I. So then we said good-morning, and he boreaway for Valparaiso. Presently I saw your smoke, and that you would neveroverhaul old Stinkamalee on that track; so I came about. Now I tell _you_that old cuss knows where the gal is, and mebbe got her tied hand and futin his cabin. An' I'm kinder sot on English gals; they put me in mind ofbutter and honey. Why, my schooner is named after one. So now, cunule,clap on steam for Valparaiso, and you'll soon overhaul the old stink-pot.You may know him by the brown patch in his jib-sail, the ontidy varmint.Pull out your purse and bind him to drop lying about ducks and geese, andtell you the truth; he knows where your gal is, I swan. Wal, ye needn'tsmother me." For by this time he was the center of a throng, all pushingand driving to catch his words.
Captain Moreland begged him to step down into his cabin, and there thegeneral thanked him with great warmth and agitation for his humanity. "Wewill follow your advice at once," he said. "Is there anything I can offeryou, without offense?"
"Wal," drawled the Yankee, "I guess not. Business an' sentiment won't mixnohow. Business took me to the island, sentiment brought me here. I'lltake a shake-hand all round. And if y' have got live fowls to spare, I'llbe obliged to you for a couple. Ye see I'm colonizing that darned island;an' sowing in with grain, an' Otaheitans, an' niggers, an' Irishmen, an'all the cream o' creation; an' I'd be glad of a couple o' Dorkins to crowthe lazy varmint up."
This very moderate request was heartily complied with, and theacclamation and cheers of the crew followed this strange character to hisschooner, at which his eye glistened and twinkled with quietsatisfaction, but he made it a point of honor not to move a muscle.
Before he could get under way, the _Springbok_ took a circuit, and,passing within a hundred yards of him, fired a gun to leeward by way ofcompliment, set a cloud of canvas, and tore through the water at herhighest speed. Outside the port of Valparaiso she fell in with Skinflint,and found him not quite so black as he was painted. The old fellow showedsome parental feeling, produced the bag at once to General Rolleston, andassured him a wearied duck had come on board, and his wife had detachedthe writing.
They took in coal; and then ran westward once more, every heart beatinghigh with confident hope.