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Among the sailors was an Italian named Francesco. Probably he had another name, but no one knew what it was. In fact, a sailor's last name is very little used. He was a man of middle height, very swarthy, with bright, black eyes, not unpopular, for the most part, but with a violent temper. His chief fault was a love of strong drink. On board the Nantucket grog had been served to the crew; and with that he had been content. But at the time of the wreck no spirits had been saved but the captain's stock of brandy. Francesco felt this to be a great hardship. More than any other sailor he felt the need of his usual stimulant. It was very tantalizing to him to see the captain partaking of his private stock of brandy while he was compelled to get along on water.
"The captain is too mucha selfish," he said one day to a fellow-sailor. "He should share his brandy with the men."
Ben Brady, the sailor to whom he was speaking, shrugged his shoulders.
"I think I will try some of the captain's brandy when he is away," said Francesco, slyly.
"If you do, you will get into trouble. The captain will half murder you if he finds it out."
"He is not captain now—we are all equal—all comrades. We are not on ze sheep."
"Take my advice, Francesco, and leave the brandy alone."
Francesco did not reply, but he became more and more bent on his design.
He watched the captain, and ascertained where he kept his secret store. Then he watched his opportunity to help himself. It was some time before he had an opportunity to do so unobserved, but at length the chance came.
The first draught brought light to his eyes, and made him smack his lips with enjoyment. It was so long since he had tasted the forbidden nectar that he drank again and again. Finally he found himself overcome by his potations, and sank upon the ground in a drunken stupor.
He was getting over the effects when, to his ill-luck, the captain returned from his usual solitary ramble.
"He has been at my brandy!" Captain Hill said to himself, with flaming eyes. "The fool shall pay dearly for his temerity."
He advanced hastily to the prostrate man, and administered a severe kick, which at once aroused the half-stupefied man.
Francesco looked up with alarm, for the captain was a much larger and stronger man than himself.
"Pardon, signor captain," he entreated.
"You have been drinking my brandy, you beast," said Captain Hill, furiously.
I draw a veil over the brutal treatment poor Francesco received. When it was over he crawled away, beaten and humiliated, but in his eye there was a dangerous light that boded no good to the captain.
Presently Francesco began to absent himself. Where he went no one knew or cared, but he, too, would be away all day. His small, black eyes glowed with smoldering fires of hatred whenever he looked at the captain, but his looks were always furtive, and so for the most part escaped observation.
One day Captain Hill stood in contemplation on the edge of a precipitous bluff, looking seaward. His hands were folded, and he looked thoughtful. His back was turned, so he could not, therefore, see a figure stealthily approaching, the face distorted by murderous hate, the hand holding a long, slender knife. Fate was approaching him in the person of a deadly enemy. He did not know that day by day Francesco had dogged his steps, watching for the opportunity which had at last come.
So stealthy was the pace, and so silent the approach of the foe, that the captain believed himself wholly alone till he felt a sharp lunge, as the stiletto entered his back between his shoulders. He staggered, but turned suddenly, all his senses now on the alert, and discovered who had assailed him.
"Ha! it is you!" he exclaimed wrathfully, seizing the Italian by the throat. "Dog, what would you do?"
"Kill you!" hissed the Italian, and with the remnant of his strength he thrust the knife farther into his enemy's body.
The captain turned white, and he staggered, still standing on the brink of the precipice.
Perceiving it, and not thinking of his own danger, Francesco gave him a push, and losing his balance the captain fell over the edge, a distance of sixty feet, upon the jagged rocks beneath. But not alone! Still retaining his fierce clutch upon the Italian's throat, the murderer, too, fell with him, and both were stretched in an instant, mangled and lifeless, at the bottom of the precipice.
When night came, and neither returned, it was thought singular, but the night was dark, and they were unprovided with lanterns, so that the search was postponed till morning. It was only after a search of several hours that the two were found.
After the captain's death two distinct camps were still maintained, but the most cordial relations existed between them. At the suggestion of the mate, an inventory was made of the stock of provisions, and to each camp was assigned an amount proportioned to the number of men which it contained.
There was no immediate prospect of want. Still, the more prudent regarded with anxiety the steady diminution of the stock remaining, and an attempt to eke them out by fresh fish caught off the island. But the inevitable day was only postponed. At length only a week's provisions remained. The condition was becoming serious.
"What shall we do?" was the question put to Mr. Holdfast, who was now looked upon by all as their leader and chief.
Upon this the mate called a general meeting of all upon the island, sailors and passengers alike.
"My friends," he said, "it is useless to conceal our situation. We are nearly out of provisions, and though we may manage to subsist upon the fish we catch, and other esculents native to this spot, it will be a daily fight against starvation. I have been asked what we are to do. I prefer rather to call for suggestions from you. What have you to suggest?"
"In my view there are two courses open to us," said Mr. Stubbs, finding that no one else appeared to have anything to propose. "We must remain here and eat the rest of our provisions, but there seems very little chance of our attracting the attention of any passing vessel. We appear to be out of the ordinary course. Of course, it is possible that some ship may have passed the island without attracting our notice. What is your opinion, Mr. Holdfast?"
"The flag of the Nantucket, as you know, has floated night and day from a pole erected on a high bluff," said the mate. "The chances are that if any vessel had come sufficiently near it would have attracted attention, and led to a boat being lowered, and an exploring party sent thither."
"While we've got any provisions left," said the boatswain, "let us take the boats, and pull out to sea. We can go where the ships are, and then we'll have some chance. They'll never find us here, leastways, such is my opinion."
"My friends," said the mate, "you have heard the proposal made by the boatswain. All who are in favor of it will please raise their right hand."
All voted in the affirmative.
"My friends," said Mr. Holdfast, "it seems to be the unanimous sentiment that we leave the island, and sail out far enough to be in the course of passing vessels. I concur in the expediency of this step, and am ready to command one of the boats. Mr, Harrison will command the other."
"How soon shall we start?" asked a passenger.
"The sooner the better! To-morrow morning, if it is pleasant."
This decision pleased all. Something was to be done, and hope was rekindled in the breasts of all. Heretofore they had been living on, without hope or prospect of release. Now they were to set out boldly, and though there was the possibility of failure, there was also a chance of deliverance.
No sooner was the decision made than all hands went to work to prepare for embarking.
In the appointment of passengers, Mr. Holdfast, who commanded the long boat, retained Harry, the professor and Clinton. Six sailors, including Jack Pendleton, made up the complement.
"I am glad you are going to be with us, Jack," said Harry, joyfully.
"I shouldn't like to be separated from you."
"Nor I from you, Harry," returned Jack.
At eight o'clock the next morning they started. As the island faded in the distance, all looked back thoughtfully at their sometime home.
Three days the boats floated about on the bosom of the ocean—three days and nights of anxiety, during which no sail was visible. But at length a ship was sighted.
"In one way or another we must try to attract attention," said the mate.
Not to protract the reader's suspense, let me say that by great good fortune the mate of the approaching ship, in sweeping the ocean with his glass caught sight of the two boats, and changed the course of the vessel so as to fall in with them.
"Who are you?" he hailed.
"Shipwrecked sailors and passengers of the ship Nantucket," was the answer of Mr. Holdfast.
They were taken on board, and discovered that the vessel was the
Phocis, from New York, bound for Melbourne.
"We shall reach our destination after all, then, professor," said Harry, "and you will be able to give your entertainments as you at first proposed."
Professor Hemenway shook his head.
"I shall take the first steamer home," he said. "My wife will be anxious about me, and even now is in doubt whether I am alive or dead. You can return with me, if you like."
"No," answered Harry. "After the trouble I have had in getting to
Australia, I mean to stay long enough to see what sort of a country it
is. I think I can make a living in one way or another, and if I can't,
I will send to America for the money I have there."
In due time they reached Melbourne, without further mischance. Harry induced Jack to remain with him, but Mr. Clinton, with a new stock of trousers, purchased in Melbourne, returned to America on the same steamer with the professor.
Here we leave Harry and Jack to pursue their course to such eminence as they may desire from the characteristics they have portrayed in this narrative.