Chapter 18

"Oh, we can tie a bit of my red flannel shirt or your white one to the hooks. Fish bite at anything at sea, if they can only see it. Hullo!" added David, "I didn't see that before."

"What?" exclaimed Jonathan.

"Why, the name of the vessel to which this boat belonged. There it is, painted there on the gunwale as large as life, the _Eric Strauss_. I suppose she was a German ship, but I never heard of her."

The two boys got out the lines presently, attaching small pieces of fluttering cloth to the hooks, and heaved them overboard, dragging them in the wake of the boat some distance astern; but they caught nothing that day, nor did they even see the sign of a fin. A whale travelling by himself, and not accompanied by a "school" as usual, was the only solitary denizen of the deep that they perceived.

It was the same the next day, the boat sailing in a north-east direction as well as David could judge, for the wind remained in the same quarter, from the southward and westward. But he had some difficulty in keeping her on her course at night, owing to the absence of the north star, which is never seen south of the equator, although he could manage to steer her all right by the sun during the day.

When the third morning broke, the boys were starving with hunger, and could have eaten anything. They even tried to gnaw at bits of leather cut out of their boots, but they were so tough and sodden from their long immersion in the sea that they could make nothing of them.

If it had not been for the breaker of water which they found providentially in the boat, they felt that they must have died.

STORY THREE, CHAPTER FIVE.

STARVATION AND PLENTY.

"Look, David," said Jonathan, when the sun had risen well above the horizon on that third morning.

He was sitting down in the bow of the boat, looking out almost hopelessly for the sight of some sail, while David was in the stern-sheets steering.

"There's a big flock of birds right in front of us. Oh, if we only could catch one! I could eat it raw."

"Well, I don't think we'd wait for the cooking," said his companion philosophically, although he put the helm down a bit so that he might likewise see the birds that Jonathan had spied.

"What can they be so far out at sea?" inquired the latter.

"Molly hawks, to be sure," said David promptly. "We must be getting into the latitude of the Cape."

"Why, they're as big as geese," said Jonathan, when the boat got nearer them. "But some are quite small; are they the young ones?"

"No," replied David; "those are the cape pigeons, which generally sail in company with the others, and not far off at any rate. When you see them close, as I've seen them scores of times, and as you'll be able to if we catch one, as I hope we shall, you'll find they are very like a large pigeon, only that they have webbed feet; and they always seem plump and fat. See, their feathers are white and downy, while their heads are brown and their wings striped with the same colour, giving them the appearance, if you look down on them from a ship, of being large white and brown butterflies, with their large wings outspread. Draw in your line a bit, Jonathan, and let the white stuff on the hook flutter about in the air; perhaps one of them will grab at it thinking it's something good. It's our only chance."

No angler, not even the celebrated Izaac Walton, ever angled more industriously than the two boys did for the next hour, trying to attract one of the birds, which, both molly hawks and cape pigeons, hovered about the boat all the time, making swoops every now and then down into the sea.

They were too knowing, however, to accept David's fictitious bait, as a fish would probably have done.

One look at it was quite sufficient for them; first one and then another wheeling round and coming nearer the surface of the water to inspect the inducement offered them, and flying off again in disgust.

At last, just as a group of three of the cape pigeons, which were the most inquisitive of the lot, stooped down over the strip of red flannel attached to David's hook, he gave it a jerk and it caught somehow or other in the bird's foot or leg, and he pulled it in, squeaking and fluttering all the time, its companions circling round it in alarm, and cawing in concert over its misfortune.

"Hurrah!" exclaimed Jonathan, as David hauled in his prize, flapping vigorously, over the gunwale in triumph; and he stretched out his hand to take hold of it.

"Look out, and stand clear a moment," shouted out his friend. "Those cape pigeons have a nasty habit of throwing up everything they have in their stomachs on to you as soon as you catch them. There, you see. I suppose it's a means of protection given them by nature, the same as the savoury perfume of the American skunk."

"He's lucky to have anything to bring up," said Jonathan drily. "It is more than we could do, I'm sure. There's plenty of him to eat, however, old fellow," he added, when the bird had disgorged its last feed, "and I vote we pluck off his feathers at once and begin business."

"All right," said David, giving the bird a rap on the head with the steering oar, which effectually stayed any further proceedings on its part. "Pipe all hands to dinner."

Both the boys said afterwards, when detailing their experiences during that voyage in an open boat across the ocean when they were lost at sea, that they never before or since ever enjoyed such a meal in their lives as that cape pigeon, which they plucked, and divided into two equal portions, eating the raw flesh, share and share alike, with the greatest gusto, even licking up afterwards the blood that dropped from it on to the thwarts.

The repast gave them new life and spirits, and from that hour the tide of their affairs seemed to flow more favourably, as shortly afterwards they caught a molly hawk, which they carefully put away in the boat's locker along with the water, which David was very particular in allowancing out, giving Jonathan and himself only a small quantity twice a day out of a measure he had made by cutting off the toe part of one of his boots.

Towards the afternoon of the same day the heavens grew dark right ahead, a big black cloud spreading across the horizon like a great curtain, and mounting gradually till it hid the sun from view.

"We're going to have a squall, Jonathan," said David. "You must look out sharp to shift the sheet when I tell you, and unstep the mast, if necessary, the very moment I say, mind!"

"Right you are," answered the other, who had now lost all that nervousness for which David used to chaff him when on board the _Sea Rover_. "You only give the word, old man, and you'll find me all there."

The squall, however, passed away without touching them, having vented its force in some other quarter; but the wind veered round to the eastwards, much to David's disgust, as he had to let the boat's head fall off from the course he wished to steer, and, strange to say, the great black cloud they had first seen seemed still to face them and keep right ahead, although their direction had been altered--it looked, really, just as if standing like a sentry to bar their progress.

"I don't know what it can mean," said David anxiously. "The wind has shifted, so why can't it shift too?"

"It doesn't appear so big as it was," observed Jonathan. "It is gradually narrowing at the bottom as it spreads out on top. And look, David, the end of it, close to the sea, comes down into a point just like a thread."

Presently, as the boat ran nearer towards the cloud, which seemed to rest stationary over the water, they could see that the sea was churned up around it in a state of violent commotion, and they could hear a peculiar sucking noise rumbling in the air at the same time.

"I tell you what it is," said David; "although I've never seen one before, it must be a waterspout, and we'll have to give it a wide berth. Look out, Jonathan, for the sheet; I'm going to put the helm up and bring the boat about on the other tack."

Almost as soon as the cutter turned off at an angle from the direction of the waterspout, although not absolutely going away from it, as the boys were interested in the sight, David uttered another exclamation.

"Gracious goodness, Jonathan!" he ejaculated. "Look, if there isn't a whale there! And he is going slap at it, as if he is going to bowl it over."

It was true enough; but, whether the leviathan of the deep had been caught in the maelstrom of the waterspout, or had gone towards it from choice, they could not tell. There he was, however, at all events, circling round in the eddy of the sea at the foot of the cloud, and sending up columns of spray every now and then with the flukes of his tail, as they came down with a bash on the water, like the sound of a Nasmyth steam-hammer.

Almost as soon as the boy spoke, the whale appeared to raise itself up on end, as they could see nearly the whole length of its body; there was a tremendous concussion; and then, with a report like thunder, the waterspout burst, falling around the boat in the form of heavy rain.

"I say," said Jonathan, when the unexpected shower had ceased, "it's an ill wind that blows nobody good. Look, if there are not a number of dead fish which the waterspout must have sucked up. How thankful we ought to be! there is enough to last us ever so long and keep us from starvation."

"You are light," said David. "Let us kneel down and thank God for His mercy and care in watching over us!"

And, after they had prayed fervently to Him who had guarded them through all the perils of the deep, and now showered on them a supply of food almost from heaven, they set to work and collected all the fish they could see floating about on the surface of the sea, David saying that they were bonetas and skipjacks, and capital eating, as he stored them in the locker.

"We'll cut them open and dry them in the sun by and by," he added. "It's too much overcast to do it now; and it's so rough with the spray dashing over us that they would only get wet instead of dry."

Soon after the waterspout had burst, the boat's head had been brought round again as near to the northward as the easterly wind would permit; but, towards evening, as the breeze grew stronger and stronger, and the sea rose in mountainous billows, just the same almost as on the day on which they bade good-bye to the _Sea Rover_, they were obliged to let her off a point or two and scud before the gale.

It was a day of surprises; for, just as night was closing in, Jonathan-- who took the station of lookout man in the fore-sheets, while David steered, being more at home with the rudder oar than his friend-- observed something white, standing out in relief against the dark background of the horizon, which was piled up with a wrack of blue-black storm-clouds.

"I say, David!" he shouted out, "what is this white thing in front--is it another waterspout, or a squall, or what?"

"I'll soon tell you," said David, standing up in the stern-sheets to get a better view. But he had no sooner looked than he dropped down again in his seat as if he had been shot, and turned as pale as a ghost, as he exclaimed hysterically, half laughing, half crying, "A sail! a sail!"

STORY THREE, CHAPTER SIX.

IN EXTREMITY.

"What? a ship really?" said Jonathan, sharing the other's excitement. "Oh, I'm so glad, so glad!"

"Yes," said David, recovering a bit from his hysterical fit, and speaking in a more collected manner. "But she's crossing our course, and if she does not see us and take in sail, I'm afraid we won't be able to catch her up!"

What was a gale to those in the cutter, with a gunwale hardly a foot above the surface of the water, was only just a fair wind to the full-rigged ship which was sailing on a bowline away from them almost hull-down on the horizon, with all her canvas spread that could draw, to take advantage of the breeze.

The boat's head was pointed right towards the vessel, whose course was nearly at right angles to theirs, and David put the helm up to bring them nearer the wind so that they might intercept her; but the cutter dipped so much in the waves, and shipped such a lot of water, that he had to let fall off again and run free, much to his mortification, as the stranger was steadily ploughing her way ahead; and, proceeding in the direction they did, they would fetch far to leeward of her.

"Oh, it's cruel," said Jonathan, "to sail away like that and leave us!"

"We mustn't accuse them wrongfully," said David, who, of course, was more versed in nautical matters. "Ships when far at sea don't keep much of a look-out, as they would have to do in the channel or near land. And, besides, old fellow, you must recollect that although we can see her plainly, we to those on board would appear but the tiniest speck in the distance, if we were seen at all, and would be taken for a wandering albatross, or one of those Molly hawks like that we caught this morning. They don't see us, evidently, or they would take in sail."

Jonathan, however, would not give up hope, but continued to wave his shirt--which he had taken off for the purpose--in the bow of the boat, until she lessened as she drew away, and finally, disappeared below the horizon as night came on with hasty footsteps--as it always does in southern latitudes--shutting out everything from their gaze.

The two boys were bitterly disappointed.

Up to the time of their sighting the ship they had been almost contented with their lot, for the fear of starvation, which had threatened them, had passed away when their hunger had been appeased by the cape pigeon that David had captured, and they subsequently secured another bird, besides the half-dozen fish or so that had been brought within their reach by the waterspout; to add to which the weather had not been hot enough to cause them to make such inroads on their stock of water--which David had judiciously apportioned from the first--as to arouse any dread of thirst, which is far worse than want of food to shipwrecked mariners.

It was the fact of the means of escape from their perilous position having been so unexpectedly brought near them, and as suddenly taken away, that deprived them of their courage and hopefulness for a time, and made them forget the Eye that was watching over them, and the hand that had already so miraculously helped them when they seemed to be at death's door! The weather, however, did not allow them to give way to despondency, much as they might have been inclined, for, as night came on, the darker it grew, the wind and sea increasing so that David had an onerous task to steer the boat in such a manner as to prevent her being swamped; while Jonathan was as continually busy in baling out the heavy seas that, partly, lurched in over the gunwale, first on the port side and then to starboard, as the cutter rocked to and fro in her course, tearing madly up and down the hills and valleys formed by the waves, and sometimes leaping clean out of the water from one mountainous ridge to another.

And thus, the weary hours passed till morning, without giving them a moment's rest from their anxious labour, the constant fear of being overset and swallowed up by the tiger-like billows that raced after them banishing the feeling of fatigue, and making them forget for the while their disappointment.

When the sun rose, for the fourth time since they had been left deserted on the deep, the boys were completely worn out.

David's leg, too, had got worse; whether from the exposure or not they could not tell, but it had swollen up enormously, and he could hardly move; so, Jonathan had to take his place at the steering oar, and act under his directions carefully, as the sea was still very high, and it required critical judgment and a quick eye to prevent the boat being taken broadside on by any of the swelling waves that followed fast in their track, raising their towering crests and foaming with impotent fury as far as the eye could reach, astern, and to their right hand and their left, while in front the waters sometimes uplifted themselves into a solid wall, as if to stop their way. With mid-day, came a change of scene.

The wind gradually died away, and there fell a dead calm, while the sea subsided in unison; although a sullen swell remained, in evidence of old Neptune's past anger, and to show that he had a temper of his own when he liked to use it--a swell that rocked the boat like a baby's cradle, and flapped the loose sail backwards and forwards across their heads, in such a disagreeable manner that David suggested their hauling it down; which they did, the boat not rolling half so much without its perpendicular weight, while it was pleasanter for them.

"I tell you what, Dave," suggested Jonathan after a while to his friend, who was stretched out on the stern-sheets, resting his wounded leg on a seat, "I think if you'd let me bandage your thigh with a strip of my shirt, and keep it soaked with water, the evaporation of the sun would take down the swelling and make it feel better?"

"So it would probably," he assented; "and at the same time, Jonathan, get those fish and the bird out of the locker. I had almost forgotten them;--I suppose, because I don't feel hungry yet! We will skin them and split them in two: and if we expose them spread out on top of the sail, which you can stretch across the thwarts, our old friend can cook them while he is acting as my physician."

Jonathan, who had been tearing a couple of long strips off his shirt, and binding them round David's leg while he was speaking, now soused the bandages with sea water, taking it up in the one uninjured boot which he had kept for baling purposes, and then propped it up in an easy position, so that it should be directly exposed to the rays of the sun, which was now almost vertical, and hotter than they had yet felt it. He then unstepped the mast, and arranged the sail like an awning over the rest of the boat, serving to shelter themselves--with the exception of David's leg, of course--from the heat, which was decidedly more comfortable, and act as a table for their culinary arrangements.

On counting them, which they had not done before, they found they had thirteen bonetas and skipjacks, beside the molly hawk, which they determined to eat while it was fresh; and then would have sufficient food, as the fish would keep perfectly when dried, for quite that number of days--a lucky number as Jonathan said, as it was "a baker's dozen," and certainly not an even one.

"An unlucky one, you mean," said David. "They say that when thirteen people sit down at table together one is sure to die before the year is out."

"That will only apply to the fish," said Jonathan laughing, "and they're dead already, and will be eaten soon. And talking of that, Dave, I think it's about dinner-time; what say you? My clock here," patting his stomach as he spoke, "warns me that it needs winding up."

"All right, I feel peckish myself," answered David, who was skinning and cutting open the fish leisurely with his clasp knife, which he could do easily without removing from his position or shifting his leg, while Jonathan cleaned them and washed them in the sea over the side of the boat preparatory to spreading them out on the top of their awning to dry in the sun. "Just wait till I finish this last beggar, and then I'll tackle Miss Molly Hawk, and we'll begin. Do you know, Jonathan, I don't think birds are half so bad eaten raw? I did enjoy that cape pigeon yesterday."

"So did I," said the other. "It makes me hungrier to think of it. Look alive, old boy, or I'll start on one of these fish just to keep my hand in."

"No, you won't, or your teeth either, you cannibal," said David jocularly. "I'm captain, and purser too, and I'm not so extravagant as to serve out two courses for dinner. Chaffing aside," he added more seriously, "we'll have to be rigidly economical, Jonathan, for we can't tell how long it may be before we fall in with a ship or reach land, and we've already experienced something of what the pangs of starvation are like, though, thank God, we were not put so severely to the test as some have been! I wish, old fellow, we were as well off for water as we are for grub. I don't think there is a pint more in the breaker, now that we've had that last drink, and I'm sure we've not been very prodigal of it, and I've measured it out carefully every day."

"Perhaps it will rain," said Jonathan cheerfully--the sight of the molly hawk, which David had dexterously plucked and cut in two, the same as he had done the cape pigeon on the previous day, making him feel ravenously hungry, and limiting all his considerations to the present, instead of his being impressed with their future needs, as was the case with his more reflective companion, "Perhaps it will rain, David. `Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.' Let us set to work; I'm starving!"

The appetites of the boys being hearty, they finished every scrap of the bird, which, raw as it was, tasted like roast goose to them, although it was not nearly so large as it had appeared with all its feathers on; and then both lay down in the boat and had a hearty sleep, the first they had had without interruption since they left their bunks for the last time on board the _Sea Rover_.

Poor fellows! they had need of rest, for the calm lasted a week, during which time their water ran out, and for more than two days they had not a single drop, although they reduced their allowance to such an infinitesimal quantity that their final draught did not amount to more than a minim.

They now endured all the agonies of thirst, their diet of dried fish making them feel it worse; and it was as much as David could do to prevent Jonathan from drinking the sea water and losing his senses, as he would have done--like many others who would not control their inclinations, but insisted on having it, and afterwards went mad and died.

Then, in the very height of their sufferings, a storm of rain came on which half filled the boat with water, giving them plenty to drink, but spoiling the remainder of their fish, so that they had to throw them overboard.

After the rain the wind sprang up again, and the sail was once more hoisted, David trying to keep the boat as nearly in the direction of the coast of South Africa as he could guess, during the day steering by the sun; but at night she went as the breeze willed, and so it continued for days, the boys getting weaker and weaker through starvation, although they had saved plenty of water in their cask to assuage the pangs of thirst, during which time they never saw a bird or a fish to which they could get near.

They sighted several ships, but they were too far off to attract their notice; and when, finally, a sudden squall in the night blew away their mast and sail, and left them tossing helplessly on the ocean, starving and worn out with fatigue, they gave up all hope, and lay down in the bottom of the boat to die--Jonathan being the first to succumb.

"Good-bye, Dave!" said he, raising himself with a feeble effort.

"Good-bye, Jonathan!" said the other, grasping his companion's hand, as he thought, for the last time.

"I think I am going to die," continued Jonathan: "my head is spinning round, and I feel faint. I will lie down a bit until the end comes. Good-bye, Dave, once more!"

And he sank down again into a restless sleep, the other following his example a moment or two afterwards; first giving one last haggard glance around the horizon--on which not a single sail appeared in sight--as if bidding it an eternal farewell.

STORY THREE, CHAPTER SEVEN.

RESCUED.

"Boat ahoy!"