The Castaways | Page 5

it
was--an albatross. It was the great albatross of the Indian seas, with an
extent of wing beyond that of the largest eagle, and almost equalling
the spread of the South American condor. [Note 1.]
They scarce looked at it, or even glanced above, they were looking
below for the zygaena--scanning the surface of the water around them,
or with their eyes keenly bent, endeavouring to penetrate its indigo
depths in search of the monstrous form.
No shark in sight. All seemed well; and despite the piteous appeals of
the swimmer, now toiling with feebler stroke, and scarce having power
to sustain himself they in the pinnace felt sure of being able to rescue
him.
Less than a quarter cable's length lay between. The boat, urged on by
the oars, was still lessening the distance. Five minutes more, and they
would be close to their comrade, and lift him over the gunwale.
Still no zygaena in sight--no shark of any kind.
"Poor fellow! he seems quite cured; we shall be able to save him."
It was Captain Redwood who thus spoke. The Irishman was about
making a little hopeful rejoinder, when his speech was cut short by a
cry from Saloo, who had suspended his stroke, as if paralysed by some
sudden despair.
The Malay, who, as well as Murtagh, had been sitting with his back
toward the swimmer, had slewed himself round with a quick jerk, that
told of some surprise. The movement was caused by a shadow flitting
over the boat; something was passing rapidly through the air above. It
had caught the attention of the others, who, on hearing Saloo's cry,
looked up along with him.

They saw only the albatross moving athwart the sky, no longer slow
sailing as before, but with the swift-cutting flight of a falcon pouncing
down upon its prey. It seemed descending not in a straight line, but in
an acute parabolic curve, like a thunderbolt or some aerolite projected
toward the surface of the sea. But the bird, with a whirr like the sound
of running spindles, was going in a definite direction, the point
evidently aimed at being the head of the swimmer!
A strange commingled shout arose over the ocean, in which several
voices bore part. Surprise pealed forth from the lips of those in the boat,
and terror from the throat of the struggling man, while a hoarse croak
from the gullet of the albatross, followed by what appeared a mocking
scream of triumph. Then quick succeeded a crashing sound, as the
sharp heavy beak of the bird broke through the skull of the swimmer,
striking him dead, as if by the shot of a six-pounder, and sending his
lifeless body down toward the bottom of the sea!
It came not up again--at all events, it was never more seen by his
castaway companions; who, dropping the oars in sorrowful despair,
allowed the boat to drift away from the fatal spot--in whatever direction
the soft-sighing breeze might capriciously carry it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. The albatross Is the largest of the ocean-birds. Its wings, when
extended, measuring fifteen feet, and its weight sometimes exceeding
twenty to twenty-four pounds. The common albatross is the Diomedea
exulans of naturalists. It plumage, except a few of the wing feathers, is
white; its long, hard beak, which Is very powerful, is of a pale yellow
colour; and its short, webbed feet are flesh coloured. It is frequently
met with in the Southern Ocean. The species mentioned in the text is
the black-beaked albatross, which frequents the India waters. The
albatross Is a formidable enemy to the sailor, for if one falls overboard,
he will assuredly fall a victim to this powerful bird, unless rescued
immediately by his comrades. Its cry has some resemblance to that of
the pelican; but it will also, when excited, give rent to a noise not
unlike the braying of an ass. The female makes a rude nest of earth on
the sea-shore, and deposits therein her solitary egg, which is about four

inches long, white, and spotted at the larger end.
CHAPTER FOUR.
THE CRY OF THE DUGONG.
Until the day on which the ninth sailor had died of starvation, and the
tenth had been struck dead by the sea-bird, the castaways had taken an
occasional spell at the oars. They now no longer touched, nor thought
of them. Weakness prevented them, as well as despondency. For there
was no object in continuing the toil; no land in sight, and no knowledge
of any being near. Should a ship chance to come their way, they were
as likely to be in her track lying at rest, as if engaged in laboriously
rowing. They permitted the oars, therefore, to remain motionless
between the thole pins, themselves sitting listlessly on the seats,