CHAPTER XV.

A WONDERFUL MEETING.

As Breeze came towards him, the white-faced man in the companion-way, who was so weak and emaciated that he seemed to have just arisen from a sick-bed, tried feebly to wave him back. The effort was made in vain; for the next moment the boy had sprung to where he was standing, thrown his arms about his neck, and, half laughing, half crying in his excitement, was exclaiming,

“Father! oh, father! We knew you weren’t dead. We knew you’d come back to us--mother and I did!”

“Gently, lad, gently. I’m not quite steady on my pins yet, and if you don’t have a care you’ll pitch me down the steps,” answered Captain McCloud, trying to speak calmly and to quiet the excited boy. But tears stood in his eyes, and directly his weakness had mastered him. He cried out, brokenly,

“God bless you, Breeze! God bless you, my boy! I’d thought never to see you again, and in my heart I’d bidden you good-by, mother and you. But I wasn’t reconciled to it. I couldn’t die without seeing you. You’d not ask it, lad. You’ll not leave me again to the fever, will you?”

Then, overcome by his emotion, the man who had been so strong, but who was now so weak and wellnigh helpless, bowed his head and sobbed like a child.

This pitiful sight, and the piteous appeal just made to him, almost unnerved Breeze, but he controlled himself by a strong effort, and led his father to a seat, at the same time speaking soothing and loving words to him.

“No, father,” he said, “of course I’ll not leave you. I’ve come to stay with you, and take care of you, and carry you into port, where mother is waiting for us. Only you must hurry and get well, for it would never do to go back to her sick and looking like this, you know. It would frighten her to see you so.”

Just then, walking stiffly on account of his wounded leg, Wolfe came aft in search of Breeze, and was filled with amazement at what he saw. For once his ready tongue failed him, and he stood staring at the little group in silence. He wondered what could have affected them so deeply, and if they had ever met before, or whether he were not witnessing the effects of a mild species of insanity, as exhibited by the stranger.

“At any rate,” he said to himself, “I’ll not interfere with them, for Breeze seems to have a quieting way with the old gentleman, and maybe hearing another strange voice might send him off again.”

All at once his attention was attracted by the sudden appearance of the most uncouth and altogether peculiar human face he had ever seen. The head to which it belonged had just been lifted cautiously above the cabin companion-way, and the great eyes, which seemed to Wolfe to be wholly white, were rolling wildly at the sight of the strangers. The face was the color of black ashes, the flat nose expanded into a pair of enormous nostrils, while the lips were of unusual thickness, even for a full-blooded negro. This strange face was set off, and in a manner overshadowed, by a pair of most remarkable ears. Not only were they large, but they projected almost at right angles from the head, which gave them the appearance of always being pricked forward with an air of extreme attention or curiosity. Above and in front of these the head was covered with a thick growth of kinky hair, which had been for so long brushed, pulled, or otherwise trained forward that it surrounded the face like a sort of a furry hood. On account of it some wag in the far-away country from which this odd-looking individual came had called him “Nimbus,” and this name had clung to him ever since. He was so short as to be almost a dwarf, but his body was thick-set, and powerful enough to belong to a giant. The length of his arms was extraordinary, and so was the size of his feet, but his legs were so ridiculously short that he waddled rather than walked. He was as strong as two ordinary strong men, and at the same time he was tender-hearted, obliging, good-natured, a fair sailor, and a capital cook. He was a Guinea negro, from the west coast of Africa, but had passed the greater part of his life in the galleys of sailing-vessels, and had thus visited most of the principal ports of the world. He was fond of occasionally returning to his own country, which he managed to do about once in every two or three years. Such was the individual who now appeared at the top of the companion-ladder, and exclaimed,

"T’ank de good Lord, gemmen, you’s come at las’! Me an’ de cap’n, we’se been habin’ a mons’rous hard time, an’ we’se mos’ gib up. You mus’ scuse me, gemmen, fur not bein’ on de deck to receib you proper an’ ship-shape, but I ain’t had no sleep fur more’n a week, an’ I jus’ takin’ a nap. You see, fus’ de port watch on deck all night, den de cook he busy waitin’ on de cap’n all night, den de starbor’ watch he up all night, den de fus’ ossifer, den de secon’ ossifer, dey don’ get no sleep all night, an’ I is all ob um. Yes, sah, ole Nim he ebberyt’ing but cap’n ob de _Esmeral_ now. De res’ all dead an’ go oberboard. De feber catch um. Sometime one, sometime two, t’ree togedder. De las’ one, he de fus’ mate, die more’n t’ree day. De cap’n here, he mos’ die, but ole Nim pull um troo; couldn’ be lef’ alone nohow. Where you’ ship, eh?"

As he asked this question Nimbus looked around with a perplexed air, in search of the vessel from which he supposed these strangers must have come.

Wolfe was delighted with this odd character, and now glad of a chance to use his tongue, he told their story as briefly as possible, and ended by saying that they were awfully hungry.

Nothing pleased Nimbus more than a chance to cook for strangers; and, with a broad grin on his hooded face, he waddled away towards the galley, saying,

“Dreckly, gemmen! dreckly ole Nim get you mons’rous fine breakfus.”

In the mean time Captain McCloud had recovered his composure, and now, to Wolfe’s amazement, Breeze introduced him as his father. At the same time he said, “Wolfe Brady is my dorymate, father, and next to you and mother, my dearest friend. We haven’t known each other very long, but what we’ve been through with has made us pretty well acquainted.”

“Yes, sir,” said Wolfe, “we met only about three weeks ago, but in that time your adopted son has twice saved my life at the risk of his own, and we have been in some rather tight places together. I don’t mind saying, now that it is all over with and we are standing on a good solid deck once more, that drifting around in that dory, through the fog of the last two days, was about the meanest fix of them all, and I hadn’t much hope that we were going to get out of it either. I’d go through with all its suffering and anxiety again, though, for the sake of being present at such a wonderful meeting as this. I never heard of anything like it.”

“It is truly a wonderful meeting,” replied Captain McCloud, “and there have got to be a great many explanations made before we shall understand how it was all brought about. Certainly we have been guided in marvellous ways. You said your mother was well, Breeze?”

“Yes, sir, quite well,” answered Breeze, “and looking for you to come in at any time.”

“So she hasn’t given me up yet! Bless the little woman! Well, there’s a chance of getting there now. I didn’t think there was any hope of it three days ago, when the mate died, and left Nimbus and me alone on the old brig, and I too weak to lift a rope’s end.”

“Do you mean to say, father,” exclaimed Breeze, who had not comprehended the true state of affairs before this, “that you two are the only ones left aboard?”

“Yes,” replied the captain, sadly, “we have buried all the rest, and are the only survivors of a crew of twelve souls.”

“That’s the reason, then, you’re under such short sail.”

“Yes, she was got under this canvas in a blow, two weeks ago, while the mate and two others of the crew were alive, and still able to work. Since then there has not been force enough on board to do anything with them. Nimbus is as strong as an ox, and he can manage the head-sails alone. I believe he got the course clewed up too; but the poor fellow has had a hard time trying to steer, cook, wait on me, keep a lookout, set the lights, ring the fog-bell, bury the dead, and in fact do all the work of twelve men. He fell asleep last night on the cabin floor, utterly exhausted. This morning I was going to try and shift for myself, and let him have his sleep out. I was about to look for something to eat when you came aboard. I’m feeling hungry for the first time in weeks.”

“Faith, sir!” cried Wolfe, “it must be catching. I’m so hungry myself that if starving’s any worse it would take a wiser man than I am to point out the difference. And to think, Breeze, of the elegant biscuit we left behind in the dory! If we’d only eaten them yesterday, and had the comfort of them! Never mind, we’ll have them up after a while for a dessert, like, for of all the sea-biscuit ever I tasted those have the finest flavor. But here comes breakfast now, praised be the cook!”

Nimbus was going to carry the breakfast down into the cabin, but Captain McCloud said they had better eat on deck, on account of the fever that had been in the cabin. “I tried to warn you, Breeze, against coming too close to me when I first saw you,” he added, “but you didn’t seem to pay any attention.”

“As if I could have, father, when I was so surprised and so happy!” replied Breeze, reproachfully.

Never had a meal tasted better, or been more thoroughly enjoyed by the dorymates than this one, and it seemed as though they could not stop eating. Even Captain McCloud developed a wonderful appetite for a sick man. He ate so heartily that Nimbus, who waddled around them, his face beaming with pleasure, as he brought them this thing or that, began to grow somewhat anxious and exclaimed,

“Take care, cap’n; you’ ’tomach’s powerful weak yet, an’ you mus’n’t s’prise um too much!”

“Which are you now, Nimbus, doctor or cook?” asked Captain McCloud, smiling at the faithful fellow’s anxiety.

“I’se bofe, cap’n. De ship’s doctor and de ship’s cook am de same. P’r’aps de cook tell you eat, an’ de doctor tell you not eat. You min’ um bofe, den you all right. You min’ de cook, you eat too much. Berry bad! You min’ de doctor, you eat too little. Berry bad too! You min’ ole Nim, you all right. Berry good!”

Wolfe was immensely amused at all this, and the negro’s comical appearance, together with his earnest manner, caused the young Irishman to roar with laughter. He declared that Nimbus had more sense in his woolly head than half the white folks he knew, and that if he were as good a doctor as he was a cook, he ought to be a member of the Royal College of Surgeons.

“Don’ know nuffin ’bout no surgins, sah,” replied Nimbus, showing the ivory of his teeth in a broad grin, and highly flattered by this praise; “but if de young gemman’s ready for anodder cup ob coffee, I’se got um a-bilin’ in de camboose.”[G]

Footnote G:

Camboose or caboose. Both are used in referring to a ship’s galley, or place for cooking. Caboose is, however, the more common expression.

“Will I have another cup of coffee? Of course I will! It’s the best I ever tasted. I tell you what, Breeze, there’s nothing like drifting around a few days without anything to eat to make a fellow appreciate a meal like this.”

“We had the sea-biscuit,” said Breeze.

“Yes, sea-biscuit! But what did they amount to? Dry, tasteless things! I’d almost as soon eat so many chips,” exclaimed Wolfe, in a scornful tone, as he finished the last mouthful of a hot buttered roll.

“Then you are not going to have them up for a sort of a dessert?”

“Dessert! I should say not. I hope I’ll never have to see one, much less eat one again. They would always remind me of drifting through a fog-bank in an open dory.”

All of which goes to show how very differently a hungry man and a well-fed man may view the same object.

The sea still remained unruffled by a breath, and after breakfast Captain McCloud said, “So long as there’s nothing we can do until we get some wind, we’ve a chance for a yarn. If you’d like to hear about it I’ll tell you how I happen to be aboard this brig, and how she got into the sad condition you see her in now.”

As both Breeze and Wolfe expressed the strongest desire to hear the captain’s story, he related it to them as follows:

“You remember, Breeze, when I left home in the old _Sea Robin_ last October for the Banks I said that if all went well I’d be back in time for Christmas?”

“Yes, sir, I remember.”

“Well, we made a fair trip, but did not fill up as fast as I had hoped we would, so that it got to be pretty near Christmas-day before we saw our way clear to picking up our anchor and heading for Gloucester. By-the-way, have any of the _Robin’s_ crew ever turned up?”

“No, sir; not one of them. You were reported as seen on the 15th of December, but since then not a word has come from you until this day.”

"Poor fellows! they’re long since gone, then. Well, as I was saying, we were all ready to start for home the day before Christmas, when there came on such a gale of wind as I’ve rarely seen in these latitudes. By night it was a hurricane, and such a sea was running that it seemed as though each wave must swallow the schooner as it came rushing-down on her. We were hove-to under a three-reefed foresail, and the riding-sail with a bag-reef tied in it. About nine o’clock in the evening, I’d been on deck so long, and was so drenched and chilled, that I stepped into the forecastle to get a cup of coffee. There was one other man there, poor Dick Simonds--you remember him, Breeze--and the cook. The rest were either on deck or in the cabin.

"I had just braced myself between the foremast and the edge of a bunk, and was reaching for the coffee, when the vessel seemed to give a great leap in the air. When she dropped it was on her beam ends, and I could feel her settling down. The cook got out someway, how I don’t know; but Dick was met by the water pouring in the companion-way. He pulled the slide to keep it out, thinking she’d right in a minute if she didn’t fill first.

"At the first shock I was so braced that, lying on my back as I was, I couldn’t move, and when I did get right side up, there we were, Dick and I, shut up like two rats in a trap, and the schooner was bottom side up.

"Dick stood it as long as he could, which I suppose was some time the next day. By then it had got so quiet overhead that we judged the storm had gone down. At the same time we knew our air must be escaping, for we could feel the water slowly but surely rising in the forecastle. The rats were becoming troublesome, too, and swarming over us. Though we couldn’t see them, we managed to catch and drown quite a number of them.

"At last Dick said he couldn’t die but once anyhow, and that he was going to make a try for one more breath of fresh air and one more sight of God’s blessed daylight. He succeeded in smashing off the companion-way slide, and a faint light came in through the water, so we knew it was day. I didn’t remember till afterwards that it was Christmas-day, and I’m glad I didn’t.

"Dick’s plan was to dive through the opening with the hope that he’d clear the rigging and sails underneath it some way or another. I tried to dissuade him from trying it, and pointed out how slim his chance was; but he was bound to go. He said it was better to drown at once and have it over with than to stay in there and meet a slow death along with the rats. He stripped off his clothes so as to have a better chance of swimming, wrung my hand, and said, ‘Good-by, skipper. If I get out, you’ll hear me pounding. If you don’t hear anything you’ll know what’s happened.’ Then he drew in a long breath, and made a dive for the hole. He got through it, I know, for I saw the ray of light darken and then come again; but I didn’t hear a sound from him afterwards, though I listened for more than an hour.

“But hello, boys! here comes a puff of wind and there’s more behind it. If you and Nimbus can manage to get some sail on the old craft we will make a start for home, and I’ll spin you the rest of my yarn some other time.”