Charley Laurel | Page 4

CHAPTER TWO.
THE LIFE-RAFT.
The Laurel had for some days been becalmed, and though every one on
board, from the captain to the smallest powder-monkey, had been
whistling for a breeze to carry her back to look after her prizes and
consorts, no breeze came.
Dick had been the busiest of the busy. He now appeared, with no small
pride in his countenance, leading by the hand a little boy dressed in a
seaman's jacket and trowsers, his shirt-collar turned down, and a little
tarpaulin hat stuck on the top of his curly head. He went boldly aft, till
he reached the captain, who, with several officers, was standing on the
quarterdeck.
"Touch your hat, Charley," said Dick. Charley obeyed promptly with a
true sailor's manner, showing that his guardian had, according to his
own ideas, commenced his education, and had at all events taught him
to be obedient.
"Please, sir, this here little chap is Charley Laurel, as I brought aboard
t'other night," began Dick. "Some wanted to call him one name, some

another. We called him Charley, sir, after Mr Slings, the boatswain,
who offered to stand godfather; and 'cause, as I may say, he belongs to
all of us, we have given him the name of Laurel, after the old barky, if
that's agreeable to you, sir."
"I have no objection to any name you may give him," answered the
captain; "but I warn you that we shall have before many weeks to
restore him to his friends, when we shall find out his proper one, and I
have no doubt they will be glad to reward you for the care you have
taken of him."
"I want no reward, sir, except perhaps a glass of grog to drink their
healths, and small thanks we will give them if they take him from us. It
will be hard to lose him as well as our other booty, especially when he
takes to us so kindly. To my mind, he will be much better off with us
than among them niggers, who will just spoil him with sugar-cane and
letting him have his own way. Besides, sir, the black woman gave him
to me, and unless you says so, we will not hand him over to them."
Dick slapped his leg as he spoke, as a clencher to his assertion, and in
his eagerness was going to use a strong expression, when, recollecting
that he was on the quarterdeck, and to whom he was speaking, he
stopped short.
"Well, my man," said the captain, good-naturedly, not offended with
Dick's freedom, "make the most of the little fellow while you have him,
and we will see what to do with him by-and-by."
There is an old saying which should never be forgotten, that "Man
proposes, but God disposes."
It was the hurricane season. Captain Blunt had been doing his best to
get the damages the ship had received repaired. He was pacing the deck,
and every now and then casting an anxious eye round the horizon,
knowing well that the gallant little Laurel was ill able to withstand
either a gale or an enemy, by either of which she might be assailed,
although, like a true sailor, he was ready to meet the one or the other
with undaunted courage.

The ocean was like a sheet of glass, and the hot sun struck down on the
deck with tremendous force. Those who could, sat in the shade, those
who could not, as Dick observed, "had to grin and bear it, though it was
not much odds where a man got to, it was hot everywhere."
Now and then a covey of flying-fish might be seen skimming over the
ocean, but they came out of the water to avoid the jaws of their
persevering foes, the dolphins or bonitos, not because they liked it, or
wished to exhibit their brilliant wings, but the wiser leviathans of the
deep kept in the cooler regions below the surface. Gradually a thin mist
filled the atmosphere; it seemed to come from nowhere, but there it was,
though the heat was in no way diminished by it, but rather increased.
Still the pumps had to be kept going, and the crew had to stand at them,
whether in sunshine or shade, stripped to the waist, the perspiration
running down from every pore. No one grumbled, though "spell ho!"
was oftener than usual cried, and numerous visits were paid to the
water-cask by those who generally disdained the pure liquid unless
mixed with rum.
The captain's countenance wore an unwonted grave expression; the
officers, too, looked serious, and their eyes were constantly turned
round, now in one direction, now in the other. Presently the captain
shouted with startling energy--
"All hands shorten sail! clew up! haul down!