The Missing Ship | Page 8

fit for duty. The stranger had not yet made his appearance; but Dan, who had dried his clothes, had taken them into the cabin, and reported that he was at length awake and expressed his intention of getting up. Norah was seated with her father under an awning stretched over the poop-deck, where both shade and air could be enjoyed. When the stranger came up the companion-hatch, the first person he saw was Owen. He put out his hand.
"Though I got but a glimpse of you last night, you are, I am sure, the man who hauled me off the raft, and I will again thank you heartily for saving my life," he said, in a frank tone. "I find that I have deprived you of your cabin; you must stow me elsewhere for the rest of the voyage, for I must not continue to incommode you."
"There is another berth I can take, so don't talk about that," answered Owen.
"As you wish," said the stranger, who having, to his own satisfaction it may be, expressed his thanks, took a seaman-like glance round the ship. As he did so, his eye fell on Norah and the captain. An expression of surprise crossed his countenance, succeeded by a look of admiration, as he beheld Norah, who appeared even more beautiful and attractive than usual, her colour heightened by the fresh breeze and her heart joyous with the thoughts of her father's recovery. She withdrew her gaze, which had naturally been turned towards the stranger who had thus unexpectedly appeared. He at once, guessing who the captain and his daughter were, stepped on to the poop and advanced towards them. Doffing his sea-cap with the manners of a man accustomed to the world, he bowed to the young lady, and then addressed the captain. "I have come without any formal invitation on board your ship, sir, but faith, I hadn't my choice--your mate hauled me on board without asking whether I wished it or no; and, to confess the truth, I am very much obliged to him, for had he stopped to inquire I should not have had the opportunity of answering, as in another moment I should have been carried to lie where many a brave fellow sleeps, at the bottom of the sea. I am therefore indebted to him for saving my life--what he did, he did well and gallantly, at no slight risk of losing his own."
"I am thankful that he succeeded," answered Captain Tracy; "and, for my part, all I can say is that you are very welcome on board--and glad I am to see you so much recovered this morning."
"A night's rest has worked wonders--yesterday evening I felt very much unlike myself, but I am now strong and well as usual." The stranger took two or three turns on deck to verify his assertion; again stopping, in an off-hand style he inquired how long the ship had been out, what weather had been met with, and where she was bound for--though, curiously enough, he did not offer to give any account of himself, apparently intending to let the captain put any questions to him on the subject he might think fit. Norah, not being destitute of the curiosity natural to her sex, was longing to learn who the stranger was--yet she did not like to ask him herself. She waited, hoping that her father would do so. She could at length restrain herself no longer.
"Had you been long in the water, sir?" she inquired.
"Five or six hours, I believe, more or less," he answered, smiling. "By-the-by, I must apologise for not having before given an account of myself. To the best of my belief, I am the only survivor of the gallant fellows who manned the Dragon privateer, of which I had the honour to be first officer. She carried sixteen guns and a crew of 110 hands, all told."
"A privateer!" exclaimed Captain Tracy. "What flag did you sail under? Has England again gone to war? We had heard nothing of it before we left Port Royal."
"Oh, that is not surprising--it is scarcely six weeks since England declared war against France," replied the stranger. "We knew what was in the wind, and sailed from Bristol, to which port the Dragon belonged, immediately the news reached us, in search of French homeward-bound ships, hoping to get hold of them before they had heard of the breaking out of war. We had, as you may judge, a quick run to the southward, having on our way made three captures, and by having to send prize crews away in them our strength was considerably diminished. Still our captain, Simon Avery--you may have heard of him, sir--was not the man to give up while there was a chance of falling in with