Shifting Winds - Robert Michael Ballantyne (poetry books to read TXT) 📗

at the oars. They were strong men both of them, inured to protracted exertion and fatigue. Still the night seemed as if it would never come to an end, for in those high southern latitudes at that time of the year the days were very short and the nights were long.

At last both men stopped rowing, as if by mutual consent.

"It's a pity," said Gaff, "to knock ourselves up together. You'd better lie down, cap'n, an' I'll pull both oars for a spell."

"No, no, Gaff," replied Graddy, with sudden and unaccountable urbanity; "I'm not a bit tired, and I'm a bigger man than you--maybe a little stronger. So do you lie down beside the boy, an' I'll call ye when I want a rest."

Gaff remonstrated, protesting that he was game to pull for hours yet, but the captain would take no denial, so he agreed to rest; yet there was an uneasy feeling in his breast which rendered rest almost impossible. He lay for a long time with his eyes fixed on the captain, who now pulled the two oars slowly and in measured time as before.

At last, in desperation, Gaff gave Billy a poke in the ribs which roused him.

"Come, boy," said his father almost sternly, "you've slept long enough now; get up an' steer. Don't you see the cap'n's pullin' all alone!"

"All right, daddy," said Billy, uttering a loud yawn and stretching himself. "Where am I? Oh! oh!"

The question was put before he had quite recovered consciousness; the terminal "oh!" was something like a groan of despair, as his eye fell on the forbidding countenance of the captain.

Billy took the tiller in silence. After a little while Gaff drew his son's ear near to his mouth, and said in a low whisper--

"Billy, my lad, I _must_ have a sleep, but I dursn't do it unless you keep a sharp eye on the captain. He's after mischief, I'm quite sure o' that, so give me a tremendous dig in the ribs if he offers to rise from his seat. Mind what I say now, lad. Our lives may depend on it."

Billy promised to be watchful, and in less than two minutes afterwards Gaff was sunk in deep repose.

The boy was faithful to his trust. Without appearing to be watching him, he never for one moment removed his eyes so far from where the captain sat labouring at the oars as to give him a chance of moving without being seen. As time passed by, however, Billy found it difficult to keep awake, and, in proportion as this difficulty increased, his staring at the captain became more direct and intense. Of course Graddy perceived this, and the sneering smile that crossed his visage showed that he had made a shrewd guess at the cause of the lad's attentions.

By degrees Billy's eyes began to droop, and he roused himself frequently with a strong effort, feeling desperately alarmed lest he should be overcome. But nature was not to be denied. Again and again did his head fall forward, again and again did he look up with a startled expression to perceive that Graddy was regarding him with a cold sardonic smile. Gradually Billy's eyes refused to convey a correct impression of what they rested on. The rower's head suddenly became twice as large as his body, a sight which so alarmed the boy that he started up and could scarce restrain a cry, but the head had shrunk into its ordinary proportions, and the sardonic smile was there as before.

Oh! what would not Billy have given at that time to have been thoroughly wide-awake and fresh! He thought for a moment of awaking his father, but the thought was only half formed ere sleep again weighed down his spirit, causing his eyelids to blink despite his utmost efforts to keep them open. Presently he saw Graddy draw the right oar quietly into the boat, without ceasing to row with the left one, and slowly draw the knife which hung at his belt.

The boy tried to shout and arouse his father, but he was paralysed with horror. His blood seemed to curdle in his veins. No sound would issue from his lips, neither could he move hand or foot while the cold glassy eye of the captain rested on him.

Suddenly Graddy sprang up, and Billy's voice found vent in a shrill cry. At the same moment Stephen Gaff awoke, and instinctively his hand grasped the tiller. He had no time to rise, but with the same force that drew the tiller from its socket in the helm he brought it forward with crashing violence on the forehead of Graddy, who was stooping to plunge the knife into his breast. He staggered beneath the blow. Before he could recover himself it was repeated, and he fell heavily back into the bottom of the boat.

"Thank the Lord," murmured Gaff, as he leaned over his fallen foe, "the villain's hand has bin stopped short this time. Come, Billy, help me to lift him up."

Gaff's blows had been delivered with such vigour that Graddy's head was much damaged, and it was a long time before the two could get him restored sufficiently to sit up. At length, however, he roused himself and looked with a bewildered air at the sun, which had just risen in a flood of golden light. Presently his eyes fell on Gaff, and a dark scowl covered his face, but being, or pretending to be unable to continue long in a sitting posture, he muttered that he would lie down and rest in the bow of the boat. He got up and staggered to the spot, where he lay down and soon fell fast asleep.

"Now, Billy lad, we'll let him rest, an' I'll take the oars. You will lie down and sleep, for you've much need of it, my poor boy, and while I'm pullin' I'll consider what's best for to be done in the circumstances."

"Better let me take one o' the oars, daddy. I'm wide-awake now, and not a bit tired."

"No, boy, no. Lay down. The next time I require to sleep I must have you in a more wakeful condition--so turn in." Gaff said this in a tone of command that did not admit of remonstrance; so Billy lay down, and soon fell into a deep slumber.

For a long time Gaff rowed in silence, gazing wistfully up into the sky, which was covered with gorgeous piles of snowy clouds, as if he sought to forget his terrible position in contemplating the glories of heaven. But earth claimed the chief share of his thoughts. While he rowed with slow unflagging strokes during these calm morning hours, he did indeed think of Eternity; of the time he had mis-spent on earth; of the sins he had committed, and of the salvation through Jesus Christ he had for so many years neglected or refused to accept.

But invariably these thoughts diverged into other channels: he thought of the immediate danger that menaced himself and his son; of death from thirst and its terrible agonies--the beginning of which even at that moment were affecting him in the old familiar way of a slight desire to drink! He thought, too, of the fierce man in the bow of the boat who evidently sought his life--why, he could not tell; but he surmised that it must either be because he had become deranged, or because he wished to get all the food in the boat to himself, and so prolong for a few days his miserable existence. Finally, his thoughts reverted to his cottage home, and he fancied himself sitting in the old chimney-corner smoking his pipe and gazing at his wife and Tottie, and his household goods.

"I'll maybe never see them agin," he murmured sadly.

For some minutes he did not speak, then he again muttered, while a grieved look overspread his face, "An' they'll never know what's come o' me! They'll go on thinkin' an' thinkin', an' hopin' an' hopin' year after year, an' their sick hearts'll find no rest. God help them!"

He looked up into the bright heavens, and his thoughts became prayer.

Ah! reader, this is no fancy sketch. It is drawn after the pattern of things that happen every year--every month--almost every week during the stormy seasons of the year. Known only to Him who is Omniscient are the multitudes of heartrending scenes of protracted agony and dreary death that are enacted year by year, all unknown to man, upon the lonely sea. Now and then the curtain of this dread theatre is slightly raised to us by the emaciated hand of a "survivor," and the sight, if we be thoughtful, may enable us to form a faint conception of those events that we never see. We might meditate on those things with advantage. Surely _Christians_ ought not to require strong appeals to induce them to consider the case of those "who go down into the sea in ships, who do business in the great waters!" And here let me whisper a word to you ere I pass on, good reader:--Meditation, unless it results in action, is worse than useless because it deepens condemnation.

While Gaff was gazing upward a bright look beamed in his eyes.

"That's not a bad notion," he muttered, drawing in both oars, and rising. "I'll do it. It'll give 'em a chance, an' that's better than nothin'."

So saying he put his hand into the breast-pocket of his jacket, and drew out a letter, which he unfolded, and tore off a portion of the last leaf which was free from writing. Spreading this upon the thwart, he sought for and found a pencil which he was in the habit of carrying in his vest-pocket, and prepared to write.

I have shown elsewhere that Gaff could neither read nor write. Yet it does not follow that he had no knowledge whatever of these subjects. On the contrary, he understood the signification of capital letters when printed large and distinct, and could, (with inconceivable pains and difficulty no doubt), string a few simple words together when occasion required. He could also sign his name.

After much deep thought he concocted the following sentence:--


AT SEE IN PASIFIK.
NO LAND FOR 5000 MILES.
OPN BOET.
THE SKIPER,
BILLY, AND MEES KAST ADRIFT BY KREW.
SKIPER MAD, OR ELSE A VILIN.
FOAR OR FIVE DAIS BISKIT; NO WATTER.
JESS, DEAR LAS, MY LAST THOATS
ARE OF YOO.

STEPHEN GAFF.


He meant to put down 500, and thought that he was right!

Having completed his task, he folded up the letter carefully, and addressed it to "Mrs Gaff, sailor's wife, The Cove, England." Then he inserted it into the empty bottle to which reference has been made, and corking it up tight committed it to the waves with an earnest prayer for its safe arrival at its destination. He then resumed his oars with a feeling of great relief, as if a heavy weight had been taken off his mind, and watched the precious bottle until it was out of sight astern.

By this time the face of nature had changed somewhat. With the advancing day the wind arose, and before noon it was blowing