“Most probably,” replied the captain, “they would all have taken to the boats. It is as likely as not that the ship which did the mischief would continue its course quite unconcerned.”
“Surely, you cannot mean,” cried Mrs. Weldon, “that anyone could be capable of such inhumanity?”
“Only too probable,” answered Captain Hull; “unfortunately, such instances are very far from rare.”
He scanned the drifting ship carefully and continued—
“No; I cannot see any sign of boats here; I should guess that the crew have made an attempt to get to land; at such a distance as this, however, from America or from the islands of the Pacific I should be afraid that it must be hopeless.”
“Is it not possible,” asked Mrs. Weldon, “that some poor creature may still survive on board, who can tell what has happened?”
“Hardly likely, madam; otherwise there would have been some sort of a signal in sight. But it is a matter about which we will make sure.”
The captain waved his hand a little in the direction in which he wished to go, and said quietly—
“Luff, Bolton, luff a bit!”
The Pilgrim by this time was not much more than three cables’ lengths from the ship, there was still no token of her being otherwise than utterly deserted, when Dick Sands suddenly exclaimed—
“Hark! if I am not much mistaken, that is a dog barking!”
Everyone listened attentively; it was no fancy on Dick’s part; sure enough a stifled barking could be heard, as if some unfortunate dog had been imprisoned beneath the hatchways; but as the deck was not yet visible, it was impossible at present to determine the precise truth.
Mrs. Weldon pleaded—
“If it is only a dog, captain, let it be saved!”
“Oh, yes, yes, mamma, the dog must be saved!” cried little Jack; “I will go and get a bit of sugar ready for it.”
“A bit of sugar, my child, will not be much for a starved dog.”
“Then it shall have my soup, and I will do without,” said the boy, and he kept shouting, “Good dog! good dog!” until he persuaded himself that he heard the animal responding to his call.
The vessels were now scarcely three hundred feet apart; the barking was more and more distinct, and presently a great dog was seen clinging to the starboard netting. It barked more desperately than ever.
“Howick,” said Captain Hull, calling to the boatswain, “heave to, and lower the small boat.”
The sails were soon trimmed so as to bring the schooner to a standstill within half a cable’s length of the disabled craft, the boat was lowered, and the captain and Dick, with a couple of sailors, went on board. The dog kept up a continual yelping; it made the most vigorous efforts to retain its hold upon the netting, but perpetually slipped backwards and fell off again upon the inclining deck. It was soon manifest, however, that all the noise the creature was making was not directed exclusively towards those who were coming to its rescue, and Mrs. Weldon could not divest herself of the impression that there must be some survivors still on board. All at once the animal changed its gestures. Instead of the crouching attitude and supplicating whine with which it seemed to be imploring the compassion of those who were nearing it, it suddenly appeared to become bursting with violence and furious with rage.
“What ails the brute?” exclaimed Captain Hull.
But already the boat was on the farther side of the wrecked ship, and the captain was not in a position to see that Negoro the cook had just come onto the schooner’s deck, or that it was obvious that it was against him that the dog had broken out in such obstreperous fury. Negoro had approached without being noticed by anyone; he made his way to the forecastle, whence, without a word or look of surprise, he gazed a moment at the dog, knitted his brow, and, silent and unobserved as he had come, retired to his kitchen.
As the boat had rounded the stern of the drifting hull, it had been observed that the one word “Waldeck” was painted on the aft-board, but that there was no intimation of the port to which the ship belonged. To Captain Hull’s experienced eye, however, certain details of construction gave a decided confirmation to the probability suggested by her name that she was of American build.
Of what had once been a fine brig of 500 tons burden this hopeless wreck was now all that remained. The large hole near the bows indicated the place where the disastrous shock had occurred, but as, in the heeling over, this aperture had been carried some five or six feet above the water, the vessel had escaped the immediate foundering which must otherwise have ensued; but still it wanted only the rising of a heavy swell to submerge the ship at any time in a few minutes.
It did not take many more strokes to bring the boat close to the larboard bulwark, which was half out of the water, and Captain Hull obtained a view of the whole length of the deck. It was clear from end to end. Both masts had been snapped off within two feet of their sockets, and had been swept away with shrouds, stays, and rigging. Not a single spar was to be seen floating anywhere within sight of the wreck, a circumstance from which it was to be inferred that several days at least had elapsed since the catastrophe.
Meantime the dog, sliding down from the taffrail, got to the centre hatchway, which was open. Here it continued to bark, alternately directing its eyes above deck and below.
“Look at that dog!” said Dick; “I begin to think there must be somebody on board.”
“If so,” answered the captain, “he must have died of hunger; the water of course has flooded the storeroom.”
“No,” said Dick; “that dog wouldn’t look like that if there were nobody there alive.”
Taking the boat as close as was
