The first feeling after the terrible disaster was one of grief and horror at the fearful death of the victims. Captain Hull and his men were swept away, and they were powerless to help. Not one was saved; the schooner reached the spot too late to offer the least resistance to the attacks of the formidable sea-monster.
When Dick and the negroes returned to the ship after their hopeless search, Mrs. Weldon sank upon her knees; little Jack knelt beside her; and Dick, old Nan, and all the negroes stood reverently around her.
The situation was indeed very grave. Here was the “Pilgrim” in the middle of the Pacific, hundreds of miles away from the nearest land, without captain, without crew, at the mercy of the wind and waves. It was a strange fatality that brought the whale across their path. Dick Sand, the apprentice-boy of fifteen years of age, was the sole individual who had the slightest knowledge of the management of a ship. The negroes were ignorant of seamen’s duties; and here was a lady with her child on board.
Such were the facts which presented themselves to the mind of Dick. He was gazing gloomily at the spot where Captain Hull, his benefactor, died. The lad raised his eyes sadly; he scanned the horizon with the vain hope to descry some vessel for Mrs. Weldon and her son.
The ocean was deserted. The whale disappeared. The apprentice knew enough to be brave. He did not have false expectations.
Negoro came back upon deck. Every muscle of his face remained unmoved; not a gesture, not a word betrayed the least emotion.
He came to Dick Sand. Dick roused himself in an instant, and said,
“You want to speak to me?”
“I must speak either to the captain or the boatswain,” answered the man.
“Negoro,” said Dick sharply, “you know as well as I do, that they are drowned.”
“Then where am I to get my orders from?” asked the fellow insolently.
“From me,” promptly rejoined the apprentice.
“From you! From a boy of fifteen?”
“Yes, from me,” repeated Dick, in a firm and resolute voice. “From me.”
“It’s necessary to understand,” Mrs. Weldon said, “that Dick Sand is captain now. He will order, and the others must obey.”
Negoro frowned, bit his lip, sneered, and came back to his cabin.
Dick cast his eye first at the sails, then along the deck. He was conscious that the hopes of the passengers centred in himself.
Although he was satisfied of his capability, with the help of the negroes, to manipulate the sails, he could not control the ship’s course. He needed a few more years’ experience. How to use the sextant, to take the altitude of the stars, to read the time from his chronometer; sun, moon, and planets?
Mrs. Weldon recognized the thoughts which were passing in the mind of the lad.
“The command of the ship is in your hands, Dick,” she said. “You will do your duty; and Tom, and the rest of them, no doubt, will help you.”
“Yes, Mrs. Weldon,” rejoined Dick brightly; “and I hope I’ll make them good seamen. If only the weather lasts fair, everything will go on well enough. Will get safe ashore.”
Mrs. Weldon wanted to know about the “Pilgrim’s” present position.
“Never fear, madam,” he answered; “as we get nearer land we will see a cruiser which will put us into the right track.”
Dick went to the captain’s cabin and took the chart. According to it they were in lat. 43° 35’, S., and long. 164° 13’, W[21]. The “Pilgrim” was like a microscopic infusoria on the vast surface of that sea, and hundreds and hundreds of weary miles separated the ship from the coast.
No time to lose. Dick appealed to the negroes, and explained them the difficulty of the task. Tom answered that they were anxious to do all they could to assist him. If their knowledge is small, yet their arms are strong. They will certainly be obedient to his orders.
“My friends,” said Dick; “I will take the helm. But you know I must have my rest sometimes. No one can live without sleep. Now, Tom, you will stand by me for the remainder of the day. I will explain you how to steer by the aid of the compass. It is not difficult. You will soon learn.”
“All right, Captain Sands; we are at your service,” said old Tom gravely.
Dick’s prime object was to land his passengers safely at Valparaiso or some other American port. But maybe it’s better to take the “Pilgrim” back again to New Zealand? The distance is considerably less than it is to America. But the wind now veered to the north-west, and he decided to take advantage of it.
The new crew remained on watch. They were ready to make any alteration which the sails required. But the wind was so steady that no need arose for their services.
And Cousin Benedict? Where was he? And what was he doing?
He was sitting in his cabin; he had a magnifying-glass in his hand and was studying an insect. He was on deck at the time of the calamity; the captain with the crew drowned before his very eyes; but he said nothing. He hurried off towards his cabin.
Passing the kitchen, however, he caught sight of Negoro who wanted to crush an American species of cockroach. In a moment he forgot Captain Hull and his sailors.
Negoro made no further overt attempt to question the young captain’s authority. Dick was calm. If he exhibits any sign of insubordination, Hercules is ready to carry him off, and old Nan is ready to take his place in the cooking department. Probably Negoro was aware of all this.
The “Pilgrim” had two compasses and two chronometers, one to correct the other. Dick’s order was to take especial care of the compasses, which were of supreme importance.
A misfortune, however, was waiting for them. On the night of the 12th, the compass in the cabin became detached from its fastening and fell on the floor. The accident was not discovered until the following morning. Dick was extremely grieved at the loss.
Little Jack was merrily running over the deck or romping with Dingo. Sometimes he missed the companionship of Dick; but his mother told him that Dick was the captain. And the child understood that his old friend had new duties.
As a general rule Dick Sand remained at the wheel all night. He was sleeping in the daytime, and during the time when he was lying down he entrusted the wheel to Tom or Bat. Under his instructions they became very fair helmsmen.
Although in these waters they saw no vessel, Dick lighted the signals: a green light to starboard and a red light to port.
On the night of the 13th, Dick was so tired that he asked Tom to relieve him at the helm whilst he went down for a few hours’ rest. Acteon and Hercules remained on watch.
The night was very dark; the sky was covered with heavy clouds, and the sails on the top-masts were lost in the obscurity. Towards three o’clock in the morning Tom’s eye lost its power of vision, and he fell into a doze. Meantime a light shadow glided stealthily along the deck. Creeping gradually up to the binnacle, Negoro put down something heavy that he had in his hand. Then he made his way back, unseen and unheard.
Almost immediately afterwards, Tom awakened from his slumber. His eye fell instinctively on the compass, and he saw that the ship was out of its proper course. By a turn of the helm he brought the ship’s head to the east. But he was mistaken. During his brief interval of unconsciousness a piece of iron was deposited beneath the magnetic needle. The “Pilgrim” speeding along towards the south-east now!
During the next week nothing particular occurred on board. The “Pilgrim” made on the average 160 miles every twenty-four hours.
Dick was sure that the schooner was crossing the track of the vessels plying between the eastern and western hemispheres. But day after day passed, and yet there was no ship at all.
Very different, however, was the true position of the “Pilgrim” from what Dick supposed. Our young captain was convinced that they were proceeding steadily eastwards. He hoped to see the American coast very soon.
Although the youth of the apprentice did not allow him to have any advanced scientific knowledge, he was a real sailor. Captain Hull was a clever meteorologist and taught Dick to draw correct conclusions from the indications of the barometer.
On the 20th of February, the storm began. For three days the gale continued, yet without any variation in its direction. And the barometer was falling. The sky was overcast; clouds, thick and lowering, obscured the sun, and it was difficult to sail. There was cause for uneasiness. Dick maintained a calm exterior, but he was really tortured with anxiety.
About four o’clock one afternoon, Negoro emerged from his kitchen, and skulked to the fore. Dingo was fast asleep, and did not growl. For half an hour Negoro stood motionless, he was surveying the horizon. Negoro looked long at the water; he then raised his eyes and scanned the sky. Then he smiled and soon stealthily retreated to his own quarters.
Time passed on, and the 9th of March arrived without material change in the condition of the atmosphere. The sky remained heavily burdened.
The “Pilgrim” pitched and rolled frightfully. Fortunately Mrs. Weldon could bear the motion without much inconvenience, but her little boy was a miserable sufferer. Cousin Benedict was investigating cockroaches; he hardly noticed the weather or wind. Moreover, it was fortunate that the negroes did not suffer from sea-sickness, and consequently were able to assist their captain in his arduous task.
Dick was sure that the land was not far away. Surely, the shore must be almost in sight. But there was no land at all.
Next day as Dick was standing at the bow, Mrs. Weldon approached him. She asked him whether he could see anything. He lowered the telescope and answered,
“No, Mrs. Weldon, I cannot see anything. I cannot understand why we don’t see any land. It is nearly a month since we lost our poor dear captain. There is no delay in our progress, no stoppage. I cannot understand.”
“How far were we from land when we lost the captain?”
“We were scarcely more than 4500 miles from the shores of America.”
“And the rate?”
“Not much less than nine score knots a day.”
“How long, then, do you reckon, Dick, we will arrive at the coast?”
“In six-and-twenty days,” replied Dick.
He paused before he spoke again, then added,
“But what mystifies me even more is this: we don’t see a single vessel. And vessels are always traversing these seas.”
“But do you not think,” inquired Mrs. Weldon, “that you made some error in your reckoning?”
“Impossible, madam,” replied Dick, “I made no errors.”
But Dick did not know that the compass was misleading him entirely!
The “Pilgrim” was running with a terrific speed. Early on the morning of the 12th, Dick noted that the barometer now registered only 27.9°. Dick Sand became more uneasy than ever. The next moment Negoro appeared on deck; he pointed mysteriously to the horizon. The he looked round with a malevolent smile, and immediately left the deck, and went back to his cabin.
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