Union down : a signal of distress

Contents

CHAPTER. PAGE.

I. Two Men i

II. After Ninety Days . . . . io

Chapter I. Two Men

On a certain warm sunny day, not so many years ago but that the older of the present generation might recall it, were it rendered specially memorable by some event of rather more recent date than that of their birth or christening, there sailed from the port of Hong Kong a clipper ship so noble that no honorable and competent underwriter would have for a moment thought of characterizing her at Lloyd’s inferior to “A i for fourteen years.” Across her huge black stern might have been read in glaring white letters : Bounding Wave. — Boston.

Seated alone on her quarter-deck, and gazing moodily at the fading line of receding shore, was a man of most melancholy aspect. His features were thin and wasted. His complexion had faded to a sickly yellow. His ringed, sunken eyes had a glow like that of fever. He was comparatively a young man, and well dressed.

Now and then he started abruptly from his attitude of moody absorption, to more easily sustain a severe spell of coughing, so severe that it seemed fairly to rend his emaciated body ; and which declared plainly enough that, if home was his present destination, he was journeying thither in the hope only of passing into the unknown from the arms of friends and loved ones.

After these spells the expression of his saddest of sad faces would briefly intensify. Often his parched lips were moved as if by an inward prayer. Frequently his wasted hands were clenched with almost fierce nervousness in his lap, much as if the impulse were derived from scarce governable dread and apprehension. Yet he did not leave his reclining chair of straw, but sat musing, frequently sighing, and all the while gazing with piteous intensity at the fast fading shore.

Complacently pacing to and fro amidships was a person of entirely different appearance. He was a man in the neighborhood of twenty-five, of medium height and erect and sturdy build. He was dressed in gray, light material, which displayed to advantage his supple, muscular figure. His straw hat was carelessly tossed to the back of his finely poised head, and his hands thrust with equal unconcern into the tops of his trousers pockets. In his mouth was a cigar, which was no sooner smoked than another was lighted ; and, taken altogether as he walked lazily about and watched the sailors making trim, he presented the appearance .of one quite without a care of the past, the present or the future.

His dark hair hung in short curls about a fair and open brow, but was closely clipped behind down to his sturdy neck. He was somewhat burned by the tropical sun, yet not enough so to mar the clearness of his rich complexion; and a pair of handsome brown eyes lighted a face that was quite irresistibly winning and attractive.

Once when the distressful cough of his fellow-passenger reached his ears, he glanced from a knot of busy seamen to where the invalid was seated, and paused long enough from his walk to mutter with a sort of semi-sad interest :

“Poor devil! he’s playing his last stack of checks. I wonder who he is.”

TWO MEN.

But instead of going to learn, he resumed his careless walk to and fro and up and down amidships, much as if in no degree had his equanimity been disturbed.

Two sailors, in the characteristic blue shirt and anchored collar, swaggered slowly aft to stretch a snowy canvas awning above the quarter-deck. They ventured a smile as they passed him, and received in return a bantering jest. There was an affinity between them.

Not so, however, the invalid. His brief expression of satisfaction was followed by a more than ever distressful fit of coughing, and the seamen returned forward with halfanxious looks upon their grim faces.

“ Food for the sharks,” muttered one to the other.

“ Ay ! ” was the reply. “ Davy has a rope ’round him, sartin.”

The sun rose higher and higher in the cloudless sky ; his fierce, vertical rays were pelted down hotter and hotter upon the blistering deck ; the blue, dancing waters on every side looked more than ever cool and refreshing in the scorching midday ; and the Bounding Wave, with every stitch of canvas set and every sail bellying in the breeze, bowled proudly on her homeward cdurse.

The young man in gray threw the end of his fourth cigar over the side, paused long enough to hear it hiss when it struck the water and to watch it fall astern upon the waves, then turned aft and slowly ascended to the quarter-deck.

“A hot day, partner,” he remarked, with a genial smile at the invalid. “ Do not rise.”

The expression of anxiety in the sick man’s face softened under the other’s agreeable familiarity.

“ Yes, it is hot, sir,” he replied, in a dry, hollow voice. “ The awning, however, affords some protection.”

“ So it does, for a fact.”

“As for myself, I enjoy warm weather. I cannot endure

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cold. We have a long voyage before us — do you go to Boston ? ”

The careless young man broke into the most winning of mellow and musical laughs. He was scarce observing enough to notice the intense wistfulness which had sounded in those last words, and was now revealed in the sick man’s earnest eyes. He dropped into a chair and replied with the utmost of frank geniality :

“ Where else can I go, my friend ? We all must go to Boston — unless, Deo volente , we all go to the bottom.”

“ Bottom ! ” came in a gruff but hearty voice from some unseen person below. “ Do you think, gentlemen, that the Bounding Wave is made of paper? No, no, sirs ! she is made of the stanchest timbers and manned by the sturdiest of crews. No bottom for us, gentlemen ; no bottom for us ! ”

“You hear this fellow in the cellarage,” laughingly quoted the young man, turning his bright eyes full upon the invalid. “ That sounds like Capt. Barr. I imagine he would sail his ship into a sea of molten lava, and in full faith that she would weather the conditions. Will my smoking annoy you ? ”

The other wondered how even this strong, healthful-looking man could so persistently make a chimney of himself ; yet he drew his chair a little nearer, in order to reply more quietly, and with a sort of subdued eagerness :

“No, sir; indeed, no ! Pray remain here.” Then, with an unconscious betrayal of timidity in his faltering speech and lustrous dark eyes : “ I asked if you were going to

Boston, sir. I — I meant to have asked — is your home in Boston ? ”

Profound anxiety sounded in his subdued but earnest voice, and now the young man in gray — for they were both young men — noticed it. He looked thoughtful for just that

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brief time required to light his cigar and throw away the match.

“ Yes,” he then answered, frankly; “my home is in Boston, or rather it is near Boston.”

“ And — and are you in business there ? ” came the query, in little more than a dry, doubtful whisper.

“ Well, yes,” was the ready reply, with the oddest of genial laughs ; “lam interested in a business there — in the ivory business, in a small way.”

And the speaker glanced archly at his earnest hearer, and wondered if his indirect reference to the gaming-table was appreciated. It evidently was not, for the invalid’s grave face did not change, and almost immediately he was seized by another violent spell of coughing.

“You have a lung trouble,” said his companion, with genuine compassion. “ I fear that my smoking must annoy you. I will go forward.”

“ No, no ! ”

The sick man hurried to subdue his affection, and with timid eagerness ventured lay a hand upon the other’s arm to restrain his rising.

“ I had much rather you would sit here,” he continued, wistfully. “ I assure you that the smoke does not annoy me. Pray remain.”

“ Then I will at least sit more to the leeward of you, to appropriate a nautical term,” kindly smiled the other, moving his chair. “ I am sorry to observe your illness.”

“You are very kind — very, sir. Yes, I have a lung affection. I have had it for a long time. I am going home” — his voice dropped even lower and began to tremble ; “ I am going home only to die, and I fear that I have too long delayed my departure from China. I should have started sooner, only a duty I could not honorably neglect constrained me. Indeed, to tell the truth, I feel that I should have waited a few days longer.”

And the speaker’s moistened eyes left the handsome face of his hearer, a face now grown grave in genuine compassion, and were turned once more toward the misty line of receding shore.

“ In that case you might have been obliged to wait several weeks,” was the gentle rejoinder. “ Ships are not daily clearing for America. ”

“That is true. That is why I departed sooner than I really desired. Delays are dangerous to a man in my condition, and I dared not wait the next vessel, for I am very anxious to arrive in Boston. Besides, he said I must embark in this if I hoped to reach there.”

The invalid’s words were hardly addressed to his companion, but were uttered in a sort of absent manner, as if his mind were turned on something and someone far away. His hearer made no inquiry as to whom he referred, but sat indolently blowing his smoke into the air and watching it wafted away.

For some little time the rather sad silence was unbroken, but at length the invalid, who seemed to have been revolving some project in mind, turned abruptly and ventured, with his former nervous timidity, to say —

“ May I ask your name, sir ? ”

“ Raymond,” and the speaker, looking his questioner straight in the eye, laughed genially. “Calvin Raymond — rather an euphonious one, isn’t it ? ”

Mr. Raymond’s laugh was quite irresistible, it was so frank and mellow and musical, and the sick man, evincing much pleasure at the implied friendliness, went so far as to join him. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he impulsively extended his thin hand and replied, feelingly:

“ I am glad, very glad, to hear you 'speak so warmly. I

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thank you sincerely. You are very frank — let me be equally so.”

“ With me ? ”

“Yes — if you are willing.”

He drew his chair so near that he could lay his hand on Calvin Raymond’s knee, and gazing earnestly at the face of the young stranger, much as if he would read through his handsome dark eyes his inmost thoughts, he continued, in an earnest undertone :

“ As you can plainly see, I am in far from good health , so far, indeed, that I am frequently in doubt of seeing the end of this long voyage. Mr. Raymond, I may possibly need the services of a friend, one on whom I wish to feel to rely, and to whom I could intrust some messages and perhaps a few little tokens of ” —

“ Zounds, my friend ] ” heartily interrupted Raymond, with an encouraging smile ; “ you may be good for years to come. Don’t get down in the mouth, you know. That is the best way to nourish an illness. You can ward off the last gun for a long time, sir, by keeping a stiff upper lip.”

At this very much more earnest than elegant speech of his companion, the sick man shook his head and smiled sadly.

“ I am not lacking in courage, my friend,” he said, firmly; “ but I know myself too well to be over-sanguine. There are grave reasons why I have not left China ere this, but of those I will speak at a more favorable opportunity. I am a stranger to all aboard this ship, Mr. Raymond, and I have very much hoped to meet here some person in whom, should occasion suddenly require it, I might feel to safely confide. Am I speaking too boldly? Should — should anything happen to me” —

He hesitated, trembling visibly, and Mr. Raymond came to his assistance. He laid his hand frankly on the sick man’s shoulder and said, warmly :

“ Should anything happen to you, sir, and you need the service of a friend — Pardon me, though! my warmth might awaken a feeling of distrust.”

“ No, no ! indeed, no ! ”

“Then, sir, if you do require the aid or advice of a friend, for which I sincerely hope you may have no occasion, if you are inclined to me I shall be very willing to do for you anything reasonable that may lie in my power.”

At these words, honestly and cordially spoken, the face of the consumptive glowed with gratitude, and he pressed Raymond’s handmost affectionately.

“ Thank you ! thank you ! ” he cried huskily, with moistening eyes. “ You take a great load from my mind. I am much relieved, for I so have feared a sudden termination of my disease. Of course I hope for the best, but I accept your kindness with a very grateful heart. You are very good ! Believe me, sir, you cannot imagine how relieved I feel.”

“ Good enough ! ” cried Raymond, with that frank and winning laugh. “Let’s think no more about it, then, for the present. I’ll engage to keep your spirits up until we see again the rocky shores and green hills of dear old New England. Rather paradoxical that, wasn’t it? Come below and join me in a glass of wine. I’ll pledge our friendship in a bumper that shall put new life into you. Here, take my hand.”

There was no resisting the genial influence of this young man. He was full of power and fairly overflowed with careless life and generous impulses. He tossed the end of his cigar over the side and gently aided the consumptive to his feet. The latter’s emaciated face was fairly transfigured by gratitude and pleasure, as he was tenderly led toward the companion-way and aided into the cabin.

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The third mate of the Bounding Wave, who had observed the two passengers in conversation, gazed after them until they had disappeared below ; then walking slowly aft he gruffly addressed the seaman at the wheel :

“ Go for’ard ! I’ll take her.”

He glanced at the compass in the binnacle, cast his eyes over the trim of the sails, then, grasping the spokes of the wheel against which he had leaned, he stared grimly down the stairway into the cabin. Calvin Raymond was seated with his newly made friend and the captain over a bottle of wine.

The third mate of the Bounding Wave was not a prepossessing person. He was about forty years of age, low of stature and with broad rounded shoulders. His reddish hair and grizzled beard were unkempt, and the small sinister eyes beneath his shaggy brows glittered like those of a rat. He was tanned to the color of a mulatto, and his weather-beaten face habitually wore the surly expression of a man who hates the very world in which he lives.

As a burst of laughter at some jest from Mr. Raymond rose to his ears, he sneered visibly, and the fire in his restless little eyes seemed to burn more resentfully.

“ The d — d fools ! ” he growled with beast-like surliness through his beard. “Ain’t I as good as them, that I’m barred out o’ their fun ? Cuss ’em, I wonder what the two landsmen were parleying about, that that shadder o’ death seems so mightily eased of a sudden.”

There is a class of men who, let their condition in life be whatsoever it may, are by nature surly, suspicious, jealous, resentful and evil.

John Godbold, the third mate of the Bounding Wave, was of this class,

Chapter II. After Ninety Days

Ninety days out from Hong Kong! Ninety long, wearisome, monotonous days aboard ship.

Day after day the same boundless expanse of tossing blue waters, the same impenetrable dome of azure sky, relieved t now and then by great billows of snow-white clouds, the same ceaseless beating of the waves about the ship, the same sing-song music of the wind through the shrouds. The impressive beauties of the rising and setting sun and moon, the turning of the ever-restless sea from dazzling gold to glittering silver — all becomes commonplace and wearisome. A square rod of meadow land, bright with dandelion and daisy, were a more than ever welcome sight at the end of those ninety long days.

Fellow-sailor, only you and I may appreciate the tedium of a long homeward voyage. Only you and I have felt that restlessness that is born nowhere save aboard a drifting ship, when not a welcome breath wafts her onward to loved scenes and fond hearts. Only you and I can tell of that impatient longing which becomes the torture of the silent midnight watch.

A dead calm on a moonlit, midnight sea !

How one’s thoughts turn from the surrounding beauties of nature, to wander through the fond though shadowy vistas of the past. I live again in a bright winter morning. I see again the low roof of an old gray school-house, cov-

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ered by a heavy coating of December’s crystal, and I watch the thick smoke rolling out from the narrow-mouthed chimney and wreathing upward on the clear frosty air. I see again the feathery flakes filled in upon the sills of the diminutive windows, whose dirty panes are thickly -coated by sharp Jack Frost, to the great exclusion of light from the roguish young urchins within. Half timidly, as of old, I push open the door and hear it grate upon its rusty hinges. I see again the rows of narrow desks, with their numerous scratches, cuts and pencilings — some my own ; and I gaze once more at the faded old blackboard, inscribed with a sadly slanted chirography “ 2 times 5 is 10,” and much wonder, too, if the errors observable were confined to grammatical errors. Yonder sits a white-haired rogue, winking slyly at his boon companion in the corner, whose mind is drift — but my mind is drifting also, more seriously than was his !

I am back again aboard the Bounding Wave, ninety days out from Hong Kong.

The friendship between the two passengers had increased daily from the date of their acquaintance. Mr. Raymond, always genial and jovial, was the life of the after deck; and with jest and story and song was untiring in his efforts to entertain his companion, and to beget in him a forgetfulness of his pitiable condition.

The other received these attentions with many and oftrepeated expressions of gratitude, and labored to assume a cheerfulness that he was far from feeling. But the grip of disease upon him was as relentless as it was potent. His hours of basking in the warm sunshine of the quarter-deck shortened to halves, and from halves to quarters ; until at length he was seen no more in his accustomed seat.

Throughout these days of his illness, Mr. Raymond had stood by him like a brother. Day after day he sat reading

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aloud for the sick man’s amusement, or cheering, by his bright talk, the long, tedious hours. No brother could have been more tender and devoted, no nurse more gentle and attentive, than was this handsome, blithesome young passenger aboard the Bounding Wave.

All this had not passed unnoticed ; his untiring patience was remarked by all the crew. And surly and suspicious John Godbold had even ventured to observe to Capt. Barr that “thet ’ere Raymond were wonderful devoted fur a stranger ! ”

But Capt. Barr, with independence quite characteristic of an American in his position, sought no man’s confidence, and vouchsafed Godbold no reply to his insinuating observation.

So the latter viewed askance the conduct of Calvin Raymond, and judged it from the only standpoint of which he was capable. Perhaps John Godbold was right, for, despite his ignorance, he was naturally a shrewd and cunning man.

Ninety days out from Hong Kong.

It was a warm Sabbath morning. The sun had barely cleared the horizon, and the Bounding Wave, save her gentle rise and fall upon the long ocean swell, lay motionless upon the calm surface of the sea. Th(| sails hung lax from the spars ; the flag aloft drooped at the half-mast ; the crew moved with unaccustomed quietude about their work, speaking in subdued tones and glancing now and then with sober eyes towards the quarter-deck, deserted by all.

A solemn stillness reigned throughout the ship.

Over the port side amidships was extended a long plank, over which had been laid a sheet of canvas, and near by a large iron shot.

There could be but one significance to all this — the sick passenger was dead.

AFTER NINETY DAYS .

A funeral at sea !

At eight bells they brought him from below, a senseless mould of clay, and placing him upon the waiting plank wrapt him in his woven coffin. John Godbold advanced, and fixing the heavy shot at the feet of the body, began to sew the canvas around the chilled form. The crew stood near by, uncovered, motionless and silent.

How appalling it seemed, that that heartless ball of iron should drag to ocean’s depths even a lifeless man, to hold him there through eternity. No one knows how far he had to fall through the constantly darkening waters, ere he reached that last journey’s end ; then to stand erect forever, or perhaps be swayed here and there by the movement of the sea ; alone in the midst of an oppressive solitude, far from the light and noise of day ; still above earth, yet lost to the sunshine, the glitter of the stars, and the music of the winds ; isolated from all semblance or suggestion of humanity; alone at the bottom of the sea.

How infinitely more appalling than the restful grave of the country churchyard, near which loving feet occasionally tread, above which friendly voices occasionally speak, around which the flowers of summer bloom and the birds of summer sing, and tfver which the ever-varying dome of heaven arches visible ; a grave kissed by the sunshine and caressed by the dew.

Yet, after all, what matters ? Have we not the promise of immortality ? Thank God for the assurance that the beall and the end-all are not Here ! that that which is buried on land or in the sea is not Us !

The cold white hands were tenderly composed, and all was covered but the peaceful, pallid face on which the last rays of sunlight lingered.

At a motion from Capt. Barr, John Godbold fell back a

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few paces, and with bent brows viewed Calvin Raymond when he advanced and stood beside the body.

In a grave, melodious voice the young man read a few passages of Scripture, sang sweetly a familiar hymn, and said a few words in commendation of the patience and resignation of the dead man. Then, with lifted head and tearful eyes, he uttered a brief though fervent prayer.

John Godbold advanced and sewed the canvas over the dead man’s face. At a sign, two of the seamen raised the end of the plank. Calvin Raymond laid his hand for the last time upon the lifeless form.

“ I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord : he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live, and he that liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”

He removed his hand. The inanimate white mass slid outward and downward. The greedy waters closed above it. The concentric circles spread wider and wider. From far below the waves a flash of white, a last mute farewell, arose — and the dead had disappeared from mortal view forever.

A catspaw of wind, the harbinger of a coming breeze, bellied the drooping sails, and the ship, listing a trifle, made way.

Haul in that plank ! Board your main tack ! Run the colors to the head ! ”

There was no irreverence in the captain’s quick, ringing orders. Only you who understand the feelings of sailors, can appreciate the relief with which they are permitted, in the vast solitude of the silent sea, to forget these scenes of death. With every stitch of canvas set to catch the freshening breeze, the Bounding Wave dashed eagerly on her homeward course, leaving far behind her and at the bottom of the sea all that was mortal of him — for whom some loving heart may have been wildly watching and waiting !

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That same Sabbath evening, a man alone at the helm fished from his pocket a small round object, which he studied intently. For some little time he examined it busily, and once muttered dubiously :

Though the words were beyond his understanding, he vaguely grasped their significance, and with a grim smile he carefully wrapt the object in a bit of paper, and stowed it away again in his filthy pocket.

“ Now,” muttered he, with evil satisfaction ; “ I’ll trim my sails to keep this rakish stranger in hailin’ distance till I larn his true colors, and why he laid to so clus to the landsman who flew the signal o’ distress ! ”

The man at the helm was John Godbold.

The small round object was a heavy gold ring, engraved as above upon its inner surface, and which he had surreptitiously removed from the finger of the dead man, when he sewed him in his canvas shroud.

Land, ho !

Up by Minot’s and Boston lights, up between Independence and Warren, up again to the quay, proudly with her gallant crew and valuable cargo, the Bounding Wave, after her long and tireless labor, came again to rest.

“ Shall you leave us to-day, Mr. Raymond ? ”

“Yes, Capt. Barr. I must arrange to go to New York within a few days.”

“ Will I not see you again, sir ? ”

“Yes,” was Mr. Raymond’s reply, with a grave smile. “ I wish to ask a slight favor at your hands — merely your company in the performance of a not wholly agreeable duty. I have to call upon the friends of the poor fellow who died during the voyage, and who confided to me the delivery of a few little tokens and letters. His relatives reside in the suburbs. Will you be my companion on this mission ? ”

“ I will, indeed,” Capt. Barr answered heartily. “ And I am glad you have broached the subject yourself.”

“ Which leads me to infer that you feared I might not,” laughed Raymond, warmly shaking the other’s hand. “ If convenient to you, we will make the visit to-morrow. I invite myself down here to dine with you, and drink another bottle of your excellent wine ; after which ” —

“ Very good ! ” interrupted Capt. Barr, laughing at the genial fellow’s frank impudence. “ Say at noon, then, and I will have the bottle on ice. I will expect you.”

“ By all means have it on ice ! Good-by, then, until noon to-morrow,” cried Raymond gaily; and a few minutes later he left the ship.

Having seen his luggage placed upon a cab, he drove at once to a first-class hotel and registered.

The clerk glanced at the name of the stranger guest.

“ Will you go to your room, Mr. Raymond ? ”

“ If you please.”

Alone in his chamber, with the door closed and locked, he threw off his outer garments and opened his portmanteau. Taking therefrom quite a bundle of written papers, he seated himself at the table and spent several hours in their perusal. A little later, having returned to the hotel office, he inquired of the clerk at what time he could take a train for a certain suburban town. After which, he absented himself from the house until evening — but he did not leave the city.

The following morning he paid his bill at the hotel, drove to the proper depot and purchased a ticket to New York — but checked his trunk to Springfield only.

Capt. Barr was rather surprised that day, when Mr. Raymond failed to put in an appearance. But his vague suspicions were somewhat dispelled, when, next morning, he received from Mr. Raymond in New York a letter plaus-

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ibly explaining his hurried departure, and assuring him that the matter mentioned had first been faithfully attended to.

But even this did not quite satisfy Capt. Barr. He went so far as to seek out the hotel at which Mr. Raymond had quartered, and here he learned from the clerk that the young man had indeed spent an entire afternoon in one of the near towns. The seaman began to feel that he was not justified in his apprehensions, and was wronging his whilom genial passenger. He forthwith returned to his ship, and let the matter drop.