The Mate of the Lily | Page 2

to eke out

her means so as to retain her house that my father might find a home
should he return.
I was setting off with Uncle Jack for the "Lily," which was undergoing
a thorough repair, and he seldom failed to pay her one or two visits in
the day to see how things were going on, when two seamen came
rolling up the street towards us in sailor fashion, and looking, it seemed
to me, as if they had been drinking, though they may not have been
exactly drunk. As they approached one nudged the other, and, looking
at Uncle Jack, exchanged a few words.
They would have passed us, when he, having noticed this, hailed
them--
"What cheer, my hearties, have we ever sailed together?"
"Can't say exactly, sir, for we've knocked about at sea so long that it's
hard to mind all the officers we've served under. But now I looks at you,
sir, I think you used to come aboard the `Amphion' before she left Old
England. We heard say you were the captain's brother."
"The `Amphion!'" exclaimed Uncle Jack, eagerly, looking hard at the
men. "Can you give me any news of her?"
"Aye, sir, but it's bad news."
"Out with it, whatever it is," exclaimed Uncle Jack, fixing his eyes on
the man, to judge whether he spoke the truth.
"It's a matter of over four years gone by when we sailed for the Eastern
seas. We had been knocking about in them parts for some months,
when we were caught in a regular hurricane, which carried away our
topmasts and mainyard, and did other damage. At the same time we
sprang a leak, and had to keep the pumps going without a moment's rest.
When night came on, and a terrible dark night it was, sir, matters grew
worse and worse, not a hope but that the ship would go down, though
we well-nigh worked our arms off to keep her afloat. Howsomedever
before long, she struck on a reef, though she hadn't been thrashing

away on it three minutes when she drove off, and the water came
rushing in like a mill stream. `Out boats,' was the cry. Bill here and I,
with three others, got into the jolly-boat, but before another soul could
spring aboard her she drifted away from the ship. We felt about, and
found a lugsail and an oar. To go back was more than we could do, and
it's our belief that scarcely had we left her than the ship went down. As
our only chance of keeping the boat afloat was to run before the sea, we
stepped the mast and set the lug close reefed, hoping to come upon
some land or other. When morning broke no land was in sight. We
thought we saw what looked like it far away on the starboard quarter,
but we could only go where the wind drove us. Three days we scudded
on without a drop of water or bit of food to put into our mouths. I
speaks the truth, Bill, don't I?"
"Ay, ay!" said Bill, looking as if he did not even like to think of that
time; "you does, mate."
"Go on," said Uncle Jack.
"Well, first one went mad and jumped overboard, then another died,
then another, and I thought that Bill would die too, when down came a
shower, and with the help of our sail we filled an empty breaker which
we had in the boat. Then we knocked down a bird which came near us,
and that gave us a little more strength. Then three flying-fish came
aboard, which kept us for three days more, and after that we caught a
small shark, but the water came to an end, and we were both so
well-nigh done for that neither Bill nor I could hold an oar to steer by,
nor knew where we were going--I speaks the truth, don't I, Bill?"
"I suppose you does, but I don't mind much what happened then. I was
too bad," said Bill.
"Well, as I was a-saying, I thought it was all over with us, when a ship
hove in sight and took us aboard. She was a foreign craft, and not a
word of what her people said could we make out, any more than they
could understand us. We were not over well treated, so we ran from her
the first place we touched at; and after knocking about for a long spell
in them South Sea islands among the savages, in one craft or another,

we got home at last. What I've told you is the blessed truth; ain't it,
Bill?"
Bill grunted his assent to this assertion; he evidently was not a man of
words.
My uncle cross-questioned the men,