The Missing Ship | Page 6

I shall have no difficulty in making my escape, even though
I am compelled to set foot on shore in Waterford itself. I wish those
fellows would bear a hand and bring me some food--that and a night's
rest will restore my strength and enable me to consider what to do
better than I now can. I have run many a narrow chance of losing my
life, but never was I nearer to death than to-day--another hour or two on
the raft would have finished me, and then where should I have been?
Bah! I must not allow such thoughts to trouble me, or I shall become
nerveless as a young girl."
In spite of all his efforts the thoughts he dreaded would intrude on the
stranger's mind. He looked eagerly for the return of the seaman with the
promised food and grog. Dan, in the mean time, with the bundle of wet
clothes under his arm, had made his way forward to the caboose, where
Pompey was busy blowing away at his fire and trying to get his kettle
and a saucepan of broth to boil.
"Well, Dan, my jewel, who dis fellow just come on board? What you
tink about him?" asked Pompey.
"Faith, it's more than he thought fit to tell me," answered Dan. "All I
know is that he's a mighty fine-spoken gentleman, with a big purse of
gold in his pocket."
"In which pocket?" asked Pompey eagerly, taking up the jacket.
"You big thief, you don't think I am after laving it to your itching

fingers--no, no, Pompey, even if the gentleman himself hadn't taken it
out, he's been too long at sea not to guess pretty shrewdly that the
shiners would vanish if the purse found its way forrard," said Dan.
"You'll not be after calling me a big thief, Dan?" exclaimed Pompey,
getting angry at this insinuation against his honesty.
"No, but I'll back your tongue to wag faster than any man's in this
ship," replied Dan. "Come, bear a hand and get the water to boil, and
then we'll hang up these clothes to dry, for the stranger doesn't look like
a man who'll be content to lie in bed longer than he can help, and he'll
be wanting to get up to-morrow morning and show himself on deck."
"He may be a mighty fine gentleman," muttered Pompey, "but I never
did see much good come in hauling a man, whoever he was, out of de
water."
"What's that you say, you old thief of the world?" exclaimed Dan.
"Whether good or bad comes of it, it was as brave a thing as you or I or
any man ever saw done, to leap on the raft as our mate did and manage
to bring the stranger on board. We've some stout fellows among us, but
not one would have dared to do that same. When the skipper hears of it
he'll be after praising him as he deserves; and there's some one else, too,
who'll not think the less of him than she does now. It won't be my fault
if I don't let the skipper know how it all happened--though maybe the
stranger won't forget to tell him--but as for the mate himself, he's as
likely as not to make light of it, and just to say that it's what any other
man would have done as well."
The opinion uttered by Dan was shared generally among the crew, with
whom Owen Massey stood deservedly high.
"Come, bear a hand, Pompey," continued Dan; "the watch will be out
before you get that fire to burn."
By dint of hard puffing Pompey succeeded in his object, and Dan went
aft with a kettle of hot water in one hand and a basin of soup in the
other. He then, having obtained the requisite amount of rum, repaired to

the mate's cabin, where he found the stranger on the point of dropping
off from exhaustion, and almost in a state of insensibility. The broth
and grog, however, quickly revived him. He uttered but few words of
thanks, and again falling back on his pillow, dropped off to sleep.
Gerald, who had witnessed Owen's gallant act, trembling lest he should
fail and lose his life, gave a shout of joy when he saw him successful
and safe again on board. Prompted by his feelings, he sprang towards
the mate, and grasping his hand, exclaimed, "Bravely done, Mr Massey!
Oh, how thankful I am that you got him on board! It did not seem
possible. Had you been lost, it would have broken Norah's heart, and
my poor father's too--for, sick as he is, he couldn't have borne it. I must
go and tell them how it all happened--they'll think more of you than
ever--but I'm