CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
DREAMY.
Very curious incidents are sometimes invented, but the most extravagantcan be matched by others that have really occurred.
One of the last things that had been talked about that evening had beenthe vessel of which Rodd had caught a glimpse in the short tropictwilight just as it was being swallowed up by the darkness and mist ofnight. Joe Cross had incidentally said that he believed it was a brig,and that night as Rodd lay half asleep, half wakeful, in his cot, keptfrom finding the customary repose of a tired lad by the heat of thenarrow cabin below, the word brig brought to mind the vessel that had sonearly run upon them in Havre-de-Grace, and in a drowsy stupid way hehad pictured her tall tapering spars, the flapping of her stay-sail, andthe rush of the storm.
Then all was blank, till all at once it seemed as if time had elapsedand he was picturing the French brig once more, knowing that it was the_Jeanne d'Arc_, though all was darkness and he only caught sight of thevessel now and then, by the flashing of the fort guns, while the roar oftheir reports echoed loudly above the rush of the wind as the bravevessel tacked from side to side of the harbour, striving to reach themouth and escape out to sea.
It was all very vivid as in a dream.
Flash went the fort gun, there was the roar of the report, and all wasdarkness, again and again, while somehow--he could not tell how it was--the heat was intense, and Rodd threw up one hand, which came in contactwith the top of his cot with a sharp rap.
"Bah! It hurts," muttered the boy; and then dream and reality merged inone, for there was another flash and the roar as if of half-a-dozenguns.
But the boy was awake now to the fact that he was not dreaming of theescape of the French brig, but far south of the Equator, lying halfstifled in his cot, listening to the roar of a tropic storm, while everynow and then the cabin which he shared with his uncle was lit up by thevivid flashes, which were succeeded by fresh roars.
"What a storm," thought Rodd, "and how hot!"
He slipped out of his cot to go and thrust open the cabin window.
"Hear the thunder, uncle?" he said.
But it had ceased for the moment, the last peal dying softly away, andfor answer to his question he had only the deep regular breathing of asound sleeper.
"He must have been tired," thought the boy, and creeping closer to thecabin window he thrust out his hand to let in more air, but found thewindow wide open as it could be.
"He must have found out how hot it was and done that himself," thoughtRodd, as he knelt softly upon the bulkhead to try and breathe the freshair; but it was hot and half suffocating, while the blackness wasintense. One moment there was a faint quivering somewhere above, andjust enough to show him the murkiness of the sea which spread out frombeneath him far away like so much blackened oil touched for a few briefinstants with streaks of gold.
"Why, there isn't a breath of air," thought Rodd, and then he startedback, dazzled by the brilliant glare of the lightning, which made himinvoluntarily close his eyes and keep them shut till the terrific crashof thunder, which seemed to burst exactly over his head, had gonerolling away as if its echoes were composed of gigantic cannon ballspassing slowly down metallic tunnels right away into space.
"That was a startler," said the boy to himself. "How awful, but howgrand! It's rather hard to think that the danger's in the lightning,and that there is nothing in the thunder to hurt."
Then once more all was black silence above and below, and all beyond thecabin window seemed to be solid.
"I never saw a storm like this at home," thought the boy. "Uncle cansleep!"
There was another brilliant flash, but this time Rodd felt prepared anddid not shrink. He only knelt, gazing out of the stern window,impressed by the grandeur of that which he had seen.
Behind him he felt that everything in the cabin had been as light asday, but away from him all around he had looked upon a vivid picture, agloriously wondrous cloudscape stretching far above and reflected farbeneath in the smooth, oily, gently heaving sea--a grand vision ofmountains of blue and gold and purple, which quivered before his eyesfor a few moments in such vivid intensity that his eyeballs ached; thenall was black again for a few moments, and then came the deep-toned roaras of hundreds of distant mighty cannons; not a sudden, sharp, metalliccrash as in the last instance, but a deep murmurous intonation whichmade the woodwork of the schooner tremble.
Rodd felt no fear--nothing but a sense of awe at the grandeur of thestorm, and it was with a feeling of eagerness that he waited for thenext flash. But a minute passed before there was a faint quiveringwhich slightly lit up the sea, to give place to blackness, silence anddarkness. Then there was another faint quivering light that seemed tocome from somewhere behind where he stood, and again he waited for oneof those vivid flashes that should show up the configuration of theclouds shaped in mountain and valley and distant cave.
And many minutes must have passed, during which time Rodd listened inthe appalling silence for the distant soft and increasing rushing soundof the coming rain, even as he had listened before in far-off Devon tothe coming of some summer storm.
"There will be wind too," he thought. "I wonder whether all is madefast aloft; for a storm like this," he continued, in his ignorance,"can't come without a tremendous wind and a rush of rain."
His next thought was that he would go on deck and see what the watchwere about; but he hesitated to stir, for the thought of the gorgeouscloudscape he had seen fascinated him and held him to his place.
"I needn't worry about that," he thought. "Captain Chubb's sure to beon deck. He wouldn't sleep like we do. If I go and open the cabin doorit will wake uncle up. Hah! It's quivering again. The storm can't beover like this. Now there's another big flash coming."
He had hardly formed the thought when from quite up in the zenith downinto the depths of the sea the arch of heaven seemed to open out in asharp jagged line of vivid blue light, shutting again instantaneously,and the boy knelt gazing before him in wonder, for there, about a mileaway, with every spar and yard and rope standing out black against theblue light, was the picture--the model, it seemed to him to be--of atall-masted brig sitting motionless upon the water; and then it wasgone.
"Why, that must have been the one we saw," thought Rodd, and he strainedhis eyes again as he listened for the roar of the thunder that shouldhave succeeded the vivid zigzag flash of electricity; but it did notcome, and he waited and waited in the darkness in vain, trying to grasphow it could be that a storm should come to an end in so strange andunsatisfactory a way according to his lights, and why there should beneither rain nor wind.
He waited, trying hard now to pierce the black darkness, but trying invain.
There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, and in spite of the wonderand awe that had pervaded him, Rodd Harding now behaved like a veryordinary human being, for he yawned, felt sleepy and that he was not sohot as he was before, and thinking that it was no use to stop there anylonger, and that he might as well dress, he crept softly back to his cotand stood thinking again.
"Can't be anything like morning," he said to himself, "and I shall beable to see that brig then. Why, I remember now; I was dreaming aboutthe storm at Havre, and that vessel--what was it? The _Jeanne d'Arc_--escaping, and the forts firing at her; and I saw the flashes from theguns. Of course; how absurd! That was the thunder and lightning,and--"
Rodd slipped slowly on to his pillow, yawned again, muttered somethingabout how sleepy he felt, and the next moment he was off as soundly ashis uncle; but only, it seemed to him, to begin dreaming directly afterabout the escaping of the brig, and the storm, mingled with the noiseand the shouting of people ashore, and a heavy bump from somewhere closeat hand; and then the boy was wide awake again, springing up so suddenlyin his cot that it was not his hand but his head that struck with a rapagainst the woodwork, as a voice that he hardly recognised in theconfusion shouted--
"Rodd, boy! Quick--on deck! The schooner's going
down!"
The Ocean Cat's Paw: The Story of a Strange Cruise Page 26
