CHAPTER XV.

Waikato Times, Volume I, Issue 178, 28 June 1873, Page 2

CHAPTER XV.

Mcthonglit the billows spoke and told me of it, Tlie winds did sing it to me. Yottxg- Robertson, borne away in the night on the shoulder* of four stout men, was quickly placed in the stern -sheetsofc*. a boat whirh lay on the beach j and in the momentary PIT . t.llO boat was run but iriW the surf, and, Ins bearers .taking each tin oar, nulled lpnhfully out to sea. - That the $9£*'Qs '' tho plaqa.were' peeuli" f. tfid that,- perhaps, the hotel F**-OP ' an island* was' the ifnp'ression Gerard jhad, on bU nasi f bttfc , whei£ the boAt lfty\ti> unftftt the leo of a »hip, and a sling was • lowered therefrom, lie'Deganto think that he was under the #r influeiice of some enchantment. Before, however, he could realise bis position, he found himself swinging in the air like a crate,, and presently standing on the duck. There was a fine strong wind blowing from th,e. south',, right across the estuary — a healthy, invigorating Braon;,, which revived his spirits, and renewed hia^ nerve. Those stupid boatmen had made a mistake, that was all. There were no lights in the ship, except one at the matthead, and the glimmer of a lamp from the- after-cabin. -No> one seemed to notice hi* presence ; he- spoke to the sailor* who. were hauling the boat up to its davits, but they replied only with a gruff ' Dim Sassenach.' Gerard began to take ' stock of himself which he had been unable to do before, lapped up. by feminine care. He was all right on his legs $- ' his right arm was a little stiff, but still usable ; his left armwas bound up in splints, and- it was an agony to touch it.' Generally, he was sore and uncomfortable, but still strong- * and capable. He had been feverish i the fever had left him ; ■ he was quite cool and collected in mind. He made his way to the after-part of the ship, and opened the door of the cabin whence the light proceeded. It was a small, comfortable cabin, square, with a door on each side r there was a little table in the middle, and fixed seats on each -' side; overhead bung a •winging tray of glaises anddecanters; an oil-lamp, fixed over the further door, illumined ' the scene. A tall, stout fellow, brown and bearded, sat with' his back to the light,. his- elbows on the table, smoking a shortblack pipe, and conning carefully a chart. 'I say/old fellow,' said Gerard,', you'll excuse my interrupting you ; but there's been a mistake.' ' Ha ! ' said the man, leaning, back in his seat, ' I tee now s^*--you're the captain's nevvey as is come for a trip to Liverpool- Bring yourself to an anchor J ' That's the mistake,' said Geraid ; ' I'm not the captain'^ nephew. Please- have a boat lowered again, and send me ashore.' ' Now, look here,' said the man gruffly ; /ain't the captain; of this here ship — I'm only the mate — I arn't. Think I*m« going agin orders ? ' ' But,* said Gerard,' ' I mutt go on shore. I insist on it.* ' All right ! ' said tho man. 'Go then.' ' Order your men to get * boat ready.' ' Nay ; I didn't aay aught about that. There's no order*for that.* * 'What am I to do then? 1 ' Wait until the captain comes aboard.' ' And when will that be?' ' How should I know ? He don't ask my permission tostay away. 1 • * You're not v*ry polite, air!' ' I've manners enough for a mate." Gerard sat down. He began to think he had better wait the arrival of the captain. Ah !' how different this bare,, creaking cabin to the comfortable, quiet room, he had quitted p what an exchange for the pleasant gossip with the daughterr of the house,, the society of this rough mate ! Why couldn't r he have been contented to stay where he was? Presently, . the rocking of tht ship, the creaking of. the cabin, the hum of the wind in the rigging, all blended undistinguisLably in : Gerard's ears. He nodded off again to sleep. ' Hollo ! mate,' cried the voice of the sailor, ' you're drowsy, . mate. Go in here, .and lie down.' Gerard, thankful to rest anywhere, tumbled into the cabin, pointed out to him, laid himself down on the berth, and!, composed himself to rest once more. ' You'll call me when, the captain conies ft' ' Ay, ay, mate.' ' ' " The swing of the ship as she- rose* and tank on the swell; the song that the wind' sang about the cordage, the creak, and rattle of everything about him — strange, unfamiliarsounds — yet soothed his tired senses; heslept soundljiand heavily. ' He awoke to a blank sense of misery and despair* No • single part of his body was -at rest — nor, indeed, could herealise that he had a body. He might indeed be some lost soul floating holjriefsly in chaos. A sharp- twinge of pain,, as he was flung against tho bunk, brought' him back to a sense of physical suffering. And then he heard the burly-burly-of the storm. All the woodwork of his cabin, every plankv of the deck above, every timber of the ship about him, seemed instinct with tortured life,, and groaned and moaned, and shrieked in ceaseless chorus.' Blow after blow,, the ship shuddered under the impact of the waves, which, like pursuing serpents, first struck and then beslavered the flying ship. The angry roar of the wind almost choked the wail of the rigging ; but intermittently with deafening noise,, some loosened fragment of blocks and cordage lashed the quivering deck as with rods of iron. Slowly and painfully,. Gerard realised his actual' position — the, ship had gone to-, sea, and they were in a great storm.