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"Yes, indeed, sir," replied Curtis, "that is the usual
course; but you see that this time the captain hasn't chosen
to take it."

"But why not?" I persisted.

"That's not for me to say, sir; he ordered us eastward,
and eastward we go."

"Haven't you called his attention to it?" I inquired.

Curtis acknowledged that he had already pointed out
what an unusual route they were taking, but that the captain had said that he was quite aware what he was about.
The mate made no further remark; but the knit of his brow,
as he passed his hand mechanically across his forehead,
made me fancy that he was inclined to speak out more
strongly.

"All very well, Curtis," I said, "but I don't know what
to think about trying new routes. Here we are at the 7th
of October, and if we are to reach Europe before the bad
weather sets in, I should suppose there is not a day to be
lost."

"Right, sir, quite right; there is not a day to be lost."

Struck by his manner, I ventured to add, "Do you mind,
Curtis, giving me your honest opinion of Captain Huntly?"

He hesitated a moment, and then replied shortly, "He is
my captain, sir."

This evasive answer of course put an end to any further
interrogation on my part.

Curtis was not mistaken. At about three o'clock the
look-out man sung out that there was land to windward,
and descried what seemed as if it might be a line of smoke
in the northeast horizon. At six, I went on deck with M.
Letourneur and his son, and we could then distinctly make
out the low group of the Bermudas, encircled by their
formidable chain of breakers.

"There," said Andre Letourneur to me, as we stood gazing at the distant land, "there lies the enchanted archipelago, sung by your poet Moore. The exile Waller, too, as
long ago as 1643, wrote an enthusiastic panegyric on the
islands, and I have been told that at one time English ladies
would wear no other bonnets than such as were made of the
leaves of the Bermuda palm."

"Yes," I replied, "the Bermudas were all the rage in
the seventeenth century, although latterly they have fallen
into comparative oblivion."

"But let me tell you, M. Andre," interposed Curtis, who
had as usual joined our party, "that although poets may
rave, and be as enthusiastic as they like about these islands,
sailors will tell a different tale. The hidden reefs that lie
in a semicircle about two or three leagues from shore make
the attempt to land a very dangerous piece of business.
And another thing, I know. Let the natives boast as they
will about their splendid climate, they are visited by the
most frightful hurricanes. They get the fag-end of the
storms that rage over the Antilles; and the fag-end of a
storm is like the tail of a whale; it's just the strongest bit of
it. I don't think you'll find a sailor listening much to your
poets — your Moores, and your Wallers."

"No doubt you are right, Mr. Curtis," said Andre, smiling, "but poets are like proverbs; you can always find one
to contradict another. Although Waller and Moore have
chosen to sing the praises of the Bermudas, it has been supposed that Shakspeare was depicting them in the terrible
scenes that are found in 'The Tempest.'"

I may mention that there was not another of our fellowpassengers who took the trouble to come on deck and give
a glance at this strange cluster of islands. Miss Herbey, it
is true, was making an attempt to join us, but she had barely
reached the poop, when Mrs. Kear's languid voice was
heard recalling her for some trifling service to her side.

Chapter VI - The Sargasso Sea
*

OCTOBER 8 to October 13. — The wind is blowing hard
from the northeast, and the Chancellor, under low-reefed
top-sail and fore-sail, and laboring against a heavy sea, has
been obliged to be brought ahull. The joists and girders
all creak again until one's teeth are set on edge. I am the
only passenger not remaining below; but I prefer being on
deck notwithstanding the driving rain, fine as dust, which
penetrates to the very skin. We have been driven along in
this fashion for the best part of two days; the "stiffish
breeze" has gradually freshened into "a gale"; the topgallants have been lowered, and, as I write, the wind is
blowing with a velocity of fifty or sixty miles an hour. Although the Chancellor has many good points, her drift is
considerable, and we have been carried far to the south; we
can only guess at our precise position, as the cloudy atmosphere entirely precludes us from taking the sun's altitude.

All along, throughout this period, my fellow-passengers
are totally ignorant of the extraordinary course that we are
taking. England lies to the northeast, yet we are sailing
directly southeast, and Robert Curtis owns that he is quite bewildered; he cannot comprehend why the captain, ever since
this northeasterly gale has been blowing, should persist in
allowing the ship to drive to the south, instead of tacking
to the northwest until she gets into better quarters.

I was alone with Robert Curtis to-day upon the poop,
and could not help saying to him, "Curtis, is your captain
mad?"

"Perhaps, sir, I might be allowed to ask what YOU think
upon that matter," was his cautious reply.

"Well, to say the truth," I answered. "I can hardly tell;
but I confess there is every now and then a wandering in
his eye, and an odd look on his face that I do not like.
Have you ever sailed with him before?"

"No; this is our first voyage together. Again last night
I spoke to him about the route we were taking, but he only
said he knew all about it, and that it was all right."

"What do Lieutenant Walter and your boatswain think
of it all?" I inquired.

"Think; why, they think just the same as I do," replied
the mate; "but if the captain chooses to take the ship to
China we should obey his orders."

"But surely," I exclaimed, "there must be some limit to
your obedience! Suppose the man is actually mad, what
then?"

"If he should be mad enough, Mr. Kazallon, to bring the
vessel into any real danger, I shall know what to do."

With this assurance I am forced to be content. Matters,
however, have taken a different turn to what I bargained
for when I took my passage on board the Chancellor. The
weather has become worse and worse. As I have already
said, the ship under her large low-reefed top-sail and fore
stay-sail has been brought ahull, that is to say, she copes
directly with the wind, by presenting her broad bows to the
sea; and so we go on still drift, drift, continually to the
south.

How southerly our course has been is very apparent; for
upon the night of the 11th we fairly entered upon that portion of the Atlantic which is known as the Sargasso Sea.
An extensive tract of water is this, inclosed by the warm
current of the Gulf Stream, and thickly covered with the
wrack, called by the Spaniards "sargasso," the abundance
of which so seriously impeded the progress of Columbus's
vessel on his first voyage.

Each morning at daybreak the Atlantic has presented an
aspect so remarkable, that at my solicitation, M. Letourneur
and his son have ventured upon deck to witness the unusual
spectacle. The squally gusts make the metal shrouds
vibrate like harp-strings; and unless we were on our guard
to keep our clothes wrapped tightly to us, they would have
been torn off our backs in shreds. The scene presented to
our eyes is one of strangest interest. The sea, carpeted
thickly with masses of prolific fucus, is a vast unbroken
plain of vegetation, through which the vessel makes her way
as a plow. Long strips of seaweed caught up by the wind
become entangled in the rigging, and hang between the
masts in festoons of verdure; while others, varying from
two to three hundred feet in length, twine themselves up to
the very mast-head, from whence they float like streaming
pennants. For many hours now, the Chancellor has been
contending with this formidable accumulation of algae; her
masts are circled with hydrophytes; her rigging is wreathed
everywhere with creepers, fantastic as the untrammeled tendrils of a vine, and as she works her arduous course, there
are times when I can only compare her to an animated
grove of verdure making its mysterious way over some
illimitable prairie.

Chapter VII - Voices in the Night
*

OCTOBER 14. — At last we are free from the sea of vegetation, the boisterous gale has moderated into a steady breeze,
the sun is shining brightly, the weather is warm and genial,
and thus, two reefs in her top-sails, briskly and merrily
sails the Chancellor.

Under conditions so favorable, we have been able to take
the ship's bearings: our latitude, we find, is 21 deg. 33' N., our
longitude, 50 deg. 17' W.

Incomprehensible altogether is the conduct of Captain
Huntly. Here we are, already more than ten degrees south
of the point from which we started, and yet still we are persistently following a southeasterly course! I cannot bring
myself to the conclusion that the man is mad. I have had
various conversations with him: he has always spoken
rationally and sensibly. He shows no tokens of insanity.
Perhaps his case is one of those in which insanity is partial,
and where the mania is of a character which extends only
to the matters connected with his profession. Yet it is unaccountable.

I can get nothing out of Curtis; he listens coldly whenever I allude to the subject, and only repeats what he has
said before, that nothing short of an overt act of madness
on the part of the captain could induce him to supersede the
captain's authority, and that the imminent peril of the ship
could alone justify him in taking so decided a measure.

Last evening I went to my cabin about eight o'clock, and
after an hour's reading by the light of my cabin-lamp, I
retired to my berth and was soon asleep. Some hours later
I was aroused by an unaccustomed noise on deck. There
were heavy footsteps hurrying to and fro, and the voices
of the men were loud and eager, as if the crew were agitated
by some strange disturbance. My first impression was, that
some tacking had been ordered which rendered it needful
to fathom the yards; but the vessel continuing to lie to starboard convinced me that this was not the origin of the commotion. I was curious to know the truth, and made all
haste I could to go on deck; but before I was ready, the
noise had ceased. I heard Captain Huntly return to his
cabin, and accordingly I retired again to my own berth.
Whatever may have been the meaning of the maneuver, I
cannot tell; it did not seem to result in any improvement
in the ship's pace; still it must be owned there was not much
wind to speed us along.

At six o'clock this morning I mounted the poop and made
as keen a scrutiny as I could of everything on board.
Everything appeared as usual. The Chancellor was running on the larboard tack, and carried low-sails, top-sails,
and gallant-sails. Well braced she was; and under a fresh,
but not uneasy breeze, was making no less than eleven knots
an hour.

Shortly afterward M. Letourneur and Andre came on
deck. The young man enjoyed the early morning air,
laden with its briny fragrance, and I assisted him to mount
the poop. In answer to my inquiry as to whether they had
been disturbed by any bustle in the night, Andre replied
that he did not wake at all, and had heard nothing.

"I am glad, my boy," said the father, "that you have
slept so soundly. I heard the noise of which Mr. Kazallon
speaks. It must have been about three o'clock this morning,
and it seemed to me as though they were shouting. I
thought I heard them say; 'Here, quick, look to the
hatches!' but as nobody was called up, I presumed that
nothing serious was the matter."

As he spoke I cast my eye at the panel-slides, which fore
and aft of the main-mast open into the hold. They seemed
to be all close as usual, but I now observed for the first time
that they were covered with heavy tarpauling. Wondering
in my own mind what could be the reason for these extra precautions I did not say anything to M. Letourneur,
but determined to wait until the mate should come on watch,
when he would doubtless give me, I thought, an explanation
of the mystery.

The sun rose gloriously, with every promise of a fine
dry day. The waning moon was yet above the western
horizon, for as it still wants three days to her last quarter
she does not set until 10:57 A. M. On consulting my almanac, I find that there will be a new moon on the 24th,
and that on that day, little as it may affect us here in midocean, the phenomenon of the high sygyzian tides will take
place on the shores of every continent and island.

At the breakfast hour M. Letourneur and Andre went
below for a cup of tea, and I remained on the poop alone.
As I expected, Curtis appeared, that he might relieve Lieutenant Walter of the watch. I advanced to meet him, but before he even wished me good morning, I saw him cast a
quick and searching glance upon the deck, and then, with a
slightly contracted brow, proceed to examine the state of
the weather and the trim of the sails.

"Where is Captain Huntly?" he said to Walter.

"I have seen nothing of him," answered the lieutenant;
"is there anything fresh up?"

"Nothing whatever," was the curt reply.

They then conversed for a few moments in an undertone,
and I could see that Walter by his gesture gave a negative
answer to some question which the mate had asked him.
"Send me the boatswain, Walter," said Curtis aloud as the
lieutenant moved away.

The boatswain immediately appeared, and another conversation was carried on in whispers. The man repeatedly
shook his head as he replied to Curtis's inquiries, and then,
in obedience to orders, called the men who were on watch,
and made them plentifully water the tarpauling that covered
the great hatchway.

Curious to fathom the mystery I went up to Curtis and
began to talk with him upon ordinary topics, hoping that
he would himself introduce the subject that was uppermost
in my mind; finding, however, that he did not allude to it, I
asked him point blank:

BOOK: The Survivors of the Chancellor
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