The Eagle Cliff | Page 9

out, would be to add chair to chair, bench to bench, cork mattress to mattress, until your raft was as big as you wanted; or you could make two or three rafts, if preferable."
"But sure, sor, it would be an unstiddy machine intirely, an' given to wobblin'," said Quin, who was one of those privileged men who not only work for their wages, but generously throw their opinions into the bargain.
"It would not be more unsteady than the waves, Quin; and as to wobbling, that would be an advantage, for a rigid raft in a rough sea would be more liable to be damaged than one that was pliable."
The discussion about rafts and ship's boats which thus began was continued with much interest till lunchtime, for it chanced that John Barret was one of those men whose tendency of heart and mind is to turn everything to its best uses, and generally to strive after the highest point of perfection in everything, with a view to the advancement of human felicity. This tendency called into exercise his inventive faculties, inducing him to search after improvements of all descriptions. Thus it was natural that he and Jackman should enter into a keen controversy, as to what was the best method of constructing the raft in detail; and that, when the faithful Quin announced lunch as being, "riddy, sor," the life-saving machine was left in an incomplete state on the deck.
The interest attaching to this discussion had helped the three comrades and crew alike, to tide over what might otherwise have proved a tedious forenoon, for during the whole of that day the dense fog and profound calm continued.
On returning to the deck the discussion was continued for a time, but gradually the interest flagged, then other subjects engaged attention, and the raft was finally allowed to lie undisturbed and forgotten.
"I don't know how it is," said Bob Mabberly; "but somehow I always feel a depression of spirits in a fog at sea."
"Explanation simple enough," returned Jackman; "are we not constantly reading in the papers of ships being run down in fogs? Where there is risk there is always in some minds anxiety--in your case you call it depression of spirits."
"Your explanation, Giles, uncomplimentary to me though it be, might have some force if we were just now in the Channel, where being run down in fog is an event of frequent occurrence; but here, in a comparatively unfrequented sea, it would be strange indeed were I to be influenced by such possibilities. What say you, Captain?"
McPherson, who had sauntered towards the group, gazed in the direction where the horizon would have been visible had the fog been absent, and said:--
"Hm!--weel--" and then stopped, as if for the purpose of mature consideration. The audience waited for the announcement of the oracle's opinion.
"Oo ay--weel, ye see, many persons are strangely influenced by possibeelities, what-e-ver. There is a maiden aunt o' my own--she wass niver marrit, an' she wass niver likely to be, for besides bein' poor an' plain, an' mittle-aged, which are not in my opeenion objectionable, she had an uncommon bad temper. Yet she wass all her life influenced by the notion that half the young men o' the place wass wantin' to marry her! though the possibeelities in her case wass fery small."
"I should like to 'ave know'd that old gurl!" whispered Tips to Quin.
"Howld your tongue, ye spalpeen!" whispered his friend in reply.
"Have you any idea, Captain, where we are now?" asked Jackman.
"Oo ay, we're somewhere's wast'ard o' the Lewis. But whether wast, nor'-wast, or sooth-wast, I could not say preceesely. The nicht, ye see, wass uncommon dark, an' when the fog came doon i' the mornin', I could na' feel sure we had keep it the richt coorse, for the currents hereaboots are strang. But we'll see whan it comes clear."
"Do you believe in presentiments, Giles?" asked Barret, in an unusually grave tone.
"Of course I do," answered Jackman. "I have a presentiment just now that you are going to talk nonsense."
Barret was not, however, to be silenced by his friend's jest.
"Listen," he said, earnestly, as he rose and stood in an attitude of intense attention. "It may be imagination playing with the subjects of our recent conversation, but I cannot help thinking that I hear the beating of paddles."
"Keep a sherp look-oot, Shames," cried the skipper, suddenly, as he went forward with unwonted alacrity.
A few minutes more and the sound which had at first been distinguished only by Barret's sharp ear, became audible to all--the soft regular patting of a paddle-wheel steamer in the distance, yet clearly coming towards them. Presently a shrill sound, very faint but prolonged, was heard, showing that she was blowing her steam-whistle as a precaution.
"Strange, is it not, that the very thing we have