Meantime the “Pilgrim” pursued her course, keeping as much as possible to the east, and before evening closed in the hull of the “Waldeck” was out of sight.

Captain Hull still continued to feel uneasy about the constant prevalence of calms; not that for himself he cared much about the delay of a week or two in a voyage from New Zealand to Valparaiso, but he was disappointed at the prolonged inconvenience it caused to his lady passenger. Mrs. Weldon, however, submitted to the detention very philosophically, and did not utter a word of complaint.

The captain’s next care was to improvise sleeping accommodation for Tom and his four associates. No room for them could possibly be found in the crew’s quarters, so that their berths had to be arranged under the forecastle; and as long as the weather continued fine, there was no reason why the negroes, accustomed as they were to a somewhat rough life, should not find themselves sufficiently comfortable.

After this incident of the discovery of the wreck, life on board the “Pilgrim” relapsed into its ordinary routine. With the wind invariably in the same direction, the sails required very little shifting; but whenever it happened, as occasionally it would, that there was any tacking to be done, the good-natured negroes were ever ready to lend a helping hand; and the rigging would creak again under the weight of Hercules, a great strapping fellow, six feet high, who seemed almost to require ropes of extra strength made for his special use.

Hercules became at once a great favourite with little Jack; and when the giant lifted him like a doll in his stalwart arms, the child fairly shrieked with delight.

“Higher! higher! very high!” Jack would say sometimes.

“There you are, then, Master Jack,” Hercules would reply as he raised him aloft.

“Am I heavy?” asked the child,

“As heavy as a feather.”

“Then lift me higher still,” cried Jack; “as high as ever you can reach.”

And Hercules, with the child’s two feet supported on his huge palm, would walk about the deck with him like an acrobat, Jack all the time endeavouring, with vain efforts, to make him “feel his weight.”

Besides Dick Sands and Hercules, Jack admitted a third friend to his companionship. This was Dingo. The dog, unsociable as he had been on board the “Waldeck,” seemed to have found society more congenial to his tastes, and being one of those animals that are fond of children, he allowed Jack to do with him almost anything he pleased. The child, however, never thought of hurting the dog in any way, and it was doubtful which of the two had the greater enjoyment of their mutual sport. Jack found a live dog infinitely more entertaining than his old toy upon its four wheels, and his great delight was to mount upon Dingo’s back, when the animal would gallop off with him like a race-horse with his jockey. It must be owned that one result of this intimacy was a serious diminution of the supply of sugar in the store-room. Dingo was the delight of all the crew excepting Negoro, who cautiously avoided coming in contact with an animal who showed such unmistakable symptoms of hostility.

The new companions that Jack had thus found did not in the least make him forget his old friend Dick Sands, who devoted all his leisure time to him as assiduously as ever. Mrs. Weldon regarded their intimacy with the

[Illustration: “There you are, then, Master Jack!”]

greatest satisfaction, and one day made a remark to that effect in the presence of Captain Hull.

“You are right, madam,” said the captain cordially; “Dick is a capital fellow, and will be sure to be a first-rate sailor. He has an instinct which is little short of a genius; it supplies all deficiencies of theory. Considering how short an experience and how little instruction he has had, it is quite wonderful how much he knows about a ship.”

“Certainly for his age,” assented Mrs. Weldon, “he is singularly advanced. I can safely say that I have never had a fault to find with him. I believe that it is my husband’s intention, after this voyage, to let him have systematic training in navigation, so that he may be able ultimately to become a captain.”

“I have no misgivings, madam,” replied the captain; “there is every reason to expect that he will be an honour to the service”

“Poor orphan!” said the lady; “he has been trained in a hard school.”

“Its lessons have not been lost upon him,” rejoined Captain Hull; “they have taught him the prime lesson that he has his own way to make in the world.”

The eyes of the two speakers turned as it were unwittingly in the direction where Dick Sands happened to be standing. He was at the helm.

“Look at him now!” said the captain; “see how steadily he keeps his eye upon the fore; nothing distracts him from his duty; he is as much to be depended on as the most experienced helmsman. It was a capital thing for him that he began his training as a cabin-boy. Nothing like it. Begin at the beginning. It is the best of training for the merchant service.”

“But surely,” interposed Mrs. Weldon, “you would not deny that in the navy there have been many good officers who have never had the training of which you are speaking?”

“True, madam; but yet even some of the best of them have begun at the lowest step of the ladder. For instance, Lord Nelson.”

Just at this instant Cousin Benedict emerged from the stern-cabin, and completely absorbed, according to his wont, in his own pursuit, began to wander up and down the deck, peering into the interstices of the network, rummaging under the seats, and drawing his long fingers along the cracks in the floor where the tar had crumbled away.

“Well, Benedict, how are you getting on?” asked Mrs Weldon.

“I? Oh, well enough, thank you,” he replied dreamily; “but I wish we were on shore.”

“What were you looking for under that bench?” said Captain Hull.

“Insects, of course,” answered Benedict; “I am always looking for insects.”

“But don’t you know, Benedict,” said Mrs. Weldon, “that Captain Hull is far too particular to allow any vermin on the deck of his vessel?”

Captain Hull smiled and said,—

“Mrs Weldon is very complimentary; but I am really inclined to hope that your investigations in the cabins of the ‘Pilgrim’ will not be attended with much success.”

Cousin Benedict shrugged his shoulders in a manner that indicated that he was aware that the cabins could furnish nothing attractive in the way of insects.

“However,” continued the captain, “I dare say down in the hold you could find some cockroaches; but cockroaches, I presume, would be of little or no interest to you.”

“No interest?” cried Benedict, at once warmed into enthusiasm; “why, are they not the very orthoptera that roused the imprecations of Virgil and Horace? Are they not closely allied to the Periplaneta orientalis and the American Kakerlac, which inhabit—“

“I should rather say infest,” interrupted the captain.

“Easy enough to see, sir,” replied Benedict, stopping short with amazement, “that you are not an entomologist!”

“I fear I must plead guilty to your accusation,” said the captain good-humouredly.

“You must not expect every one to be such an enthusiast in your favourite study as yourself.” Mrs. Weldon interposed; “but are you not satisfied with the result of your explorations in New Zealand?”

“Yes, yes,” answered Benedict, with a sort of hesitating reluctance; “I must not say I was dissatisfied; I was really very delighted to secure that new staphylin which hitherto had never been seen elsewhere than in New California; but still, you know, an entomologist is always craving for fresh additions to his collection.”

While he was speaking, Dingo, leaving little Jack, who was romping with him, came and jumped on Benedict, and began to fawn on him.

“Get away, you brute!” he exclaimed, thrusting the dog aside.

“Poor Dingo! good dog!” cried Jack, running up and taking the animal’s huge head between his tiny hands.

“Your interest in cockroaches, Mr. Benedict,” observed the captain, “does not seem to extend to dogs.”

“It isn’t that I dislike dogs at all,” answered Benedict; “but this creature has disappointed me.”

“How do you mean? You could hardly want to catalogue him with the diptera or hymenoptera?” asked Mrs Weldon laughingly.

“Oh, not at all,” replied Benedict, with the most unmoved gravity. “But I understood that he had been found on the West Coast of Africa, and I hoped that perhaps he might have brought over some African hemiptera in his coat; but I have searched his coat well, over and over again, without finding a single specimen. The dog has disappointed me,” he repeated mournfully.

“I can only hope,” said the captain, “that if you had found anything, you were going to kill it instantly.”

Benedict looked with mute astonishment into the captain’s face. In a moment or two afterwards, he said,—

“I suppose, sir, you acknowledge that Sir John Franklin was an eminent member of your profession?”

“Certainly; why?”

“Because Sir John would never take away the life of the most insignificant insect; it is related of him that when he had once been incessantly tormented all day by a mosquito, at last he found it on the back of his hand and blew it off, saying, ‘Fly away, little creature, the world is large enough for both you and me!’ ”

“That little anecdote of yours, Mr. Benedict,” said the captain, smiling, “is a good deal older than Sir John Franklin. It is told, in nearly the same words, about Uncle Toby, in Sterne’s ‘Tristram Shandy’; only there it was not a mosquito, it was a common fly.”

“And was Uncle Toby an entomologist?” asked Benedict; “did he ever really live?”

“No,” said the captain, “he was only a character in a novel.”

Cousin Benedict gave a look of utter contempt, and Captain Hull and Mrs Weldon could not resist laughing.

Such is only one instance of the way in which Cousin Benedict invariably brought it about that all conversation with him ultimately turned upon his favourite pursuit, and all along, throughout the monotonous hours of smooth sailing, while the “Pilgrim” was making her little headway to the east, he showed his own devotion to his pet science, by seeking to enlist new disciples. First of all, he tried his powers of persuasion upon Dick Sands, but soon finding that the young apprentice had no taste for entomological mysteries, he gave him up and turned his attention to the negroes. Nor was he much more successful with them; one after another, Tom, Bat, Actæon, and Austin had all withdrawn themselves from his instructions, and the class at last was reduced to the single person of Hercules; but in him the enthusiastic naturalist thought he had discovered a latent talent which could distinguish between a parasite and a thysanura.

Hercules accordingly submitted to pass a considerable portion of his leisure in the observation of every variety of coleoptera; he was encouraged to study the extensive collection of stag-beetles, tiger-beetles and lady-birds; and although at times the enthusiast trembled to see some of his most delicate and fragile specimens in the huge grasp of his pupil, he soon learned that the man’s gentle docility was a sufficient guarantee against his clumsiness.

While the science of entomology was thus occupying its two votaries, Mrs. Weldon was giving her own best attention to the education of Master Jack. Reading and writing she undertook to teach herself, while she entrusted the instruction in arithmetic to the care of Dick Sands. Under the conviction that a child of five years will make a much more rapid progress if something like amusement be combined with his lessons, Mrs. Weldon would not teach her boy to spell by the use of an ordinary school primer, but used a set of cubes, on the sides of which the various letters were painted in red. After first making a word and showing it to Jack, she set him to put it together without her help, and it was astonishing how quickly the child advanced, and how many hours he would spend in this way, both in the cabin and on deck. There were more than fifty cubes, which, besides the alphabet, included all the digits; so that they were of service for Dick Sands’ lessons as well as for her own. She was more than satisfied with her device.

On the morning of the 9th an incident occurred which could not fail to be observed as somewhat remarkable. Jack was half lying, half sitting on the deck, amusing himself with his letters, and had just finished putting together a word with which he intended to puzzle old Tom, who, with his hand sheltering his eyes, was pretending not to see the difficulty which was being labouriously prepared to bewilder him; all at once, Dingo, who had been gambolling round the child, made a sudden pause, lifted his right paw, and wagged his tail convulsively. Then darting down upon a capital S, he seized it in his mouth, and carried it some paces away.

“Oh, Dingo, Dingo! you mustn’t eat my letters!” shouted the child.

But the dog had already dropped the block of wood, and coming back again, picked up another, which he laid quietly by the side of the first. This time it was a capital V. Jack uttered an exclamation of astonishment which brought to his side not only his mother, but the captain and Dick, who were both on deck. In answer to their inquiry as to what had occurred, Jack cried out in the greatest excitement that Dingo knew how to read. At any rate he was sure that he knew his letters.

Dick Sands smiled and stooped to take back the letters. Dingo snarled and showed his teeth, but the apprentice was not frightened; he carried his point, and replaced the two blocks among the rest. Dingo in an instant pounced upon them again, and having drawn them to his side, laid a paw upon each of them, as if to signify his intention of retaining them in his possession. Of the other letters of the alphabet he took no notice at all.

“It is very strange,” said Mrs. Weldon; “he has picked out S V again.”

“S V!” repeated the captain thoughtfully; “are not those the letters that form the initials on his collar?”

And turning to the old negro, he continued,—

“Tom didn’t you say that this dog did not always belong to the captain of the ‘Waldeck’?”

“To the best of my belief,” replied Tom, “the captain had only had him about two years. I often heard him tell how he found him at the mouth of the Congo.”

“Do you suppose that he never knew where the animal came from, or to whom he had previously belonged?” asked Captain Hull.

“Never,” answered Tom, shaking his head; “a lost dog is worse to identify than a lost child; you see, he can’t make himself understood any way.”

The captain made no answer, but stood musing; Mrs. Weldon interrupted him.

“These letters, captain, seem to be recalling something to your recollection.

“I can hardly go so far as to say that, Mrs. Weldon,” he replied; “but I cannot help associating them with the fate of a brave explorer.”

“Whom do you mean? said the lady.

“In 1871, just two years ago,” the captain continued, “a French traveller, under the auspices of the Geographical

[Illustration: Jack cried out in the greatest excitement that Dingo knew how to read]

Society of Paris, set out for the purpose of crossing Africa from west to east. His starting-point was the mouth of the Congo, and his exit was designed to be as near as possible to Cape Deldago, at the mouth of the River Rovouma, of which he was to ascertain the true course. The name of this man was Samuel Vernon, and I confess it strikes me as somewhat a strange coincidence that the letters engraved on Dingo’s collar should be Vernon’s initials.”

“Is nothing known about this traveller?” asked Mrs. Weldon.

“Nothing was ever heard of him after his first departure. It appears quite certain that he failed to reach the east coast, and it can only be conjectured either that he died upon his way, or that he was made prisoner by the natives; and if so, and this dog ever belonged to him, the animal might have made his way back to the sea-coast, where, just about the time that would be likely, the captain of the ‘Waldeck’ picked him up.”

“But you have no reason to suppose, Captain Hull, that Vernon ever owned a dog of this description?”

“I own I never heard of it,” said the captain; “but still the impression fixes itself on my mind that the dog must have been his; how he came to know one letter from another, it is not for me to pretend to say. Look at him now, madam! he seems not only to be reading the letters for himself, but to be inviting us to come and read them with him.”

Whilst Mrs. Weldon was watching the dog with much amusement, Dick Sands, who had listened to the previous conversation, took the opportunity of asking the captain whether the traveller Vernon had started on his expedition quite alone.

“That is really more than I can tell you, my boy,” answered Captain Hull; “but I should almost take it for granted that he would have a considerable retinue of natives.”

The captain spoke without being aware that Negoro had meanwhile quietly stolen on deck. At first his presence was quite unnoticed, and no one observed the peculiar glance with which he looked at the two letters over which Dingo still persisted in keeping guard. The dog, however, no sooner caught sight of the cook than he began to bristle with rage, whereupon Negoro, with a threatening gesture which seemed half involuntary, withdrew immediately to his accustomed quarters.

The incident did not escape the captain’s observation.

“No doubt,” he said, “there is some mystery here;” and he was pondering the matter over in his mind when Dick Sands spoke.

“Don’t you think it very singular, sir, that this dog should have such a knowledge of the alphabet?”

Jack here put in his word.

“My mamma has told me about a dog whose name was Munito, who could read as well as a schoolmaster, and could play dominoes.”

Mrs. Weldon smiled.

“I am afraid, my child, that that dog was not quite so learned as you imagine. I don’t suppose he knew one letter from another; but his master, who was a clever American, having found out that the animal had a very keen sense of hearing, taught him some curious tricks.”

“What sort of tricks?” asked Dick, who was almost as much interested as little Jack.

“When he had to perform in public,” continued Mrs. Weldon, “a lot of letters like yours, Jack, were spread out upon a table, and Munito would put together any word that the company should propose, either aloud or in a whisper, to his master. The creature would walk about until he stopped at the very letter which was wanted. The secret of it all was that the dog’s owner gave him a signal when he was to stop by rattling a little tooth-pick in his pocket, making a slight noise that only the dog’s ears were acute enough to perceive.”

Dick was highly amused, and said,—

“But that was a dog who could do nothing wonderful without his master.”

“Just so,” answered Mrs. Weldon; “and it surprises me

[Illustration: Negoro, with a threatening gesture that seemed half involuntary, withdrew immediately to his accustomed quarters.]

very much to see Dingo picking out these letters without a master to direct him.”

“The more one thinks of it, the more strange it is,” said Captain Hull; “but, after all, Dingo’s sagacity is not greater than that of the dog which rang the convent bell in order to get at the dish that was reserved for passing beggars; nor than that of the dog who had to turn a spit every other day, and never could be induced to work when it was not his proper day. Dingo evidently has no acquaintance with any other letters except the two S V; and some circumstance which we can never guess has made him familiar with them.”

“What a pity he cannot talk!” exclaimed the apprentice; “we should know why it is that he always shows his teeth at Negoro.”

“And tremendous teeth they are!” observed the captain, as Dingo at that moment opened his mouth, and made a display of his formidable fangs. 5fOEeWn/lYZqVg3LwJrcsLwXWzCBOvNVJe7y3+ic7fR4g8ahvlpHDP0H0xtXzQRa