The first feeling experienced by those on board the “Pilgrim,” after witnessing the terrible disaster was one of grief and horror at the fearful death that had befallen the victims. Captain Hull and his men had been swept away before their very eyes, and they had been powerless to assist. Not one was saved; the schooner had reached the spot too late to offer the least resistance to the attacks of the formidable sea-monster.

When Dick and the negroes returned to the ship after their hopeless search, with only the corroboration of their sad foreboding that captain and crew had disappeared for ever, Mrs. Weldon sank upon her knees; little Jack knelt beside her crying bitterly; and Dick, old Nan, and all the negroes stood reverently around her whilst with great devoutness the lady offered up the prayer of commendation for the souls of the departing. All sympathized heartily with her supplications, nor was there any diminution of their fervour when she proceeded to implore that the survivors might have strength and courage for their own hour of need.

The situation was indeed very grave. Here was the “Pilgrim” in the middle of the Pacific, hundreds of miles away from the nearest land, without captain, without crew, at the mercy of the wind and waves. It was a strange fatality that had brought the whale across their path; it was a fatality stranger still that had induced her captain, a man of no ordinary prudence, to risk even his life for the sake of making good a deficient cargo. It was an event almost unknown in the annals of whale-fishing that not a single man in the whale-boat should escape alive; nevertheless, it was all too true; and now, of all those left on board, Dick Sands, the apprentice-boy of fifteen years of age, was the sole individual who had the slightest knowledge of the management of a ship; the negroes, brave and willing as they were, were perfectly ignorant of seamen’s duties; and, to crown all, here was a lady with her child on board, for whose safety the commander of the vessel would be held responsible.

Such were the facts which presented themselves to the mind of Dick as, with folded arms, he stood gazing gloomily at the spot where Captain Hull, his esteemed benefactor, had sunk to rise no more. The lad raised his eyes sadly; he scanned the horizon with the vain hope that he might perchance descry some passing vessel to which he could confide Mrs. Weldon and her son; for himself, his mind was made up; he had already resolved that nothing should induce him to quit the “Pilgrim” until he had exhausted every energy in trying to carry her into port.

The ocean was all deserted. Since the disappearance of the whale nothing had broken the monotonous surface either of sea or sky. The apprentice, short as his experience was, knew enough to be aware that he was far out of the common track alike of merchantmen or whalers; he would not buoy himself up with false expectations; he would look his situation full and fairly in the face; he would do his best, and trust hopefully in guidance from the Power above.

Thus absorbed in his meditations he did not observe that he was not alone. Negoro, who had gone below immediately after the catastrophe, had again come back upon deck. What this mysterious character had felt upon witnessing the awful calamity it would be impossible to say. Although with his eye he had keenly taken in every detail of the melancholy spectacle, every muscle of, his face had remained unmoved; not a gesture, not a word betrayed the least emotion. Even if he had heard, he had taken no part, nor evinced the faintest interest in Mrs. Weldon’s outpouring of prayer.

He had made his way to the stern, where Dick Sands was pondering over the responsibilities of his own position, and stood looking towards the apprentice without interrupting his reverie.

Catching sight of him, Dick roused himself in an instant, and said,—

“You want to speak to me?”

“I must speak either to the captain or the boatswain,” answered the man.

“Negoro,” said Dick sharply, “you know as well as I do, that they are both drowned.”

“Then where am I to get my orders from?” asked the fellow insolently.

“From me,” promptly rejoined the apprentice.

“From you! from a boy of fifteen?”

“Yes, from me,” repeated Dick, in a firm and resolute voice, looking at the man until he recoiled under his gaze. “From me ”

Mrs. Weldon had heard what passed.

“I wish every one on board to understand,” she interposed, “that Dick Sands is captain now. Orders must be taken from him, and they must be obeyed.”

Negoro frowned, bit his lip, sneered, and having muttered something that was unintelligible, made his way back to his cabin.

Meantime, the schooner under the freshening breeze had been carried beyond the shoal of the crustaceans. Dick cast his eye first at the sails, then along the deck, and seemed to become more and more alive to the weight of the obligation that had fallen upon him; but his heart did not fail him; he was conscious that the hopes of the passengers centred in himself, and he was determined to let them see that he would do his best not to disappoint them.

Although he was satisfied of his capability, with the help of the negroes, to manipulate the sails, he was conscious of a defect of the scientific knowledge which was requisite for properly controlling the ship’s course. He felt the want of a few more years’ experience. If only he had had longer practice he would, he thought, have been as able as Captain Hull himself, to use the sextant, to take the altitude of the stars, to read the time from his chronometer; sun, moon, and planets, should have been his guides; from the firmament, as from a dial-plate, he would have gathered the teachings of his true position; but all this was beyond him as yet; his knowledge went no further than the use of the log and compass, and by these alone he must be content to make his reckonings. But he kept up his courage, and did not permit himself for one moment to despair of ultimate success.

Mrs. Weldon needed little penetration to recognize the thoughts which were passing in the mind of the resolute youth.

“I see you have come to your decision, Dick,” she said. “The command of the ship is in your hands; no fear but that you will do your duty; and Tom, and the rest of them, no doubt, will render you every assistance in their power.”

“Yes, Mrs. Weldon,” rejoined Dick brightly; “and before long I shall hope to make them good seamen. If only the weather lasts fair, everything will go on well enough; and if the weather turns out bad, we must not despond; we will get safe ashore.”

He paused a moment and added reverently,—

“God helping us.”

Mrs. Weldon proceeded to inquire whether he had any means of ascertaining the “Pilgrim’s” present position. He replied that the ship’s chart would at once settle that. Captain Hull had kept the reckoning accurately right up to the preceding day.

“And what do you propose to do next?” she asked. “Of course you understand that in our present circumstances we are not in the least bound to go to Valparaiso if there is a nearer port which we could reach.”

“Certainly not,” replied Dick; “and therefore it is my intention to sail due east, as by following that course we

[Illustration: “Oh, we shall soon he on shore!”]

are sure to come upon some part of the American coast.”

“Do your best, Dick, to let us get ashore somewhere.”

“Never fear, madam,” he answered; “as we get nearer land we shall be almost sure to fall in with a cruiser which will put us into the right track. If the wind does but remain in the north-west, and allow us to carry plenty of sail, we shall get on famously.”

He spoke with the cheery confidence of a good sailor who knows the good ship beneath his feet. He had moved off a few steps to go and take the helm, when Mrs. Weldon, calling him back, reminded him that he had not yet ascertained the true position of the schooner. Dick confessed that it ought to be done at once, and going to the captain’s cabin brought out the chart upon which the ill-fated commander had marked the bearings the evening before. According to this dead-reckoning they were in lat. 43° 35’, S., and long. 164° 13’, W.; and as the schooner had made next to no progress during the last twenty-four eventful hours, the entry might fairly be accepted as representing approximately their present position.

To the lady’s inexperienced eye, as she bent over the outspread chart, it seemed that the land, as represented by the brown patch which depicted the continent of South America extending like a barrier between two oceans from Cape Horn to Columbia, was, after all, not so very far distant; the wide space of the Pacific was not so broad but that it would be quickly traversed.

“Oh, we shall soon be on shore!” she said.

But Dick knew better. He had acquaintance enough with the scale upon which the chart was constructed to be aware that the “Pilgrim” herself would have been a speck like a microscopic infusoria on the vast surface of that sea, and that hundreds and hundreds of weary miles separated her from the coast.

No time was to be lost. Contrary winds had ceased to blow; a fresh north-westerly breeze had sprung up, and the cirri , or curl-cloud: overhead indicated that for some time at least the direction of the wind would be unchanged.

Dick appealed to the negroes, and tried to make them appreciate the difficulty of the task that had fallen to his lot. Tom answered, in behalf of himself and all the rest, that they were not only willing, but anxious, to do all they could to assist him, saying that if their knowledge was small, yet their arms were strong, and added that they should certainly be obedient to every order he gave.

“My friends,” said Dick, addressing them in reply; “I shall make it a point of myself taking the helm as much as possible. But you know I must have my proper rest sometimes. No one can live without sleep. Now, Tom, I intend you to stand by me for the remainder of the day. I will try and make you understand how to steer by the aid of the compass. It is not difficult. You will soon learn. I shall have to leave you when I go to my hammock for an hour or two.”

“Is there nothing,” said little Jack, “that I can learn to do?”

“Oh yes, Jack; you shall keep the wind in order,” answered Dick, smiling.

“That I will!” cried the child, clapping his hands, while the mother drew him to her side.

“And now, my men,” was Dick’s first order to his crew, we must brace in the yards to sail fair. I will show you how.”

“All right, Captain Sands; we are at your service,” said old Tom gravely.

[Illustration: “Oh yes, Jack; you shall keep the wind in order.”] NfBsOgx7wBt4/cyDQwuL/7q6K+lVs/o7NdFBquxrmceThHk86pGy7R45lWOqW5Uy