Picked up at Sea. John C. Hutcheson
noticed now, as she passed by the floating remnants of what had once been a gallant ship, as they could tell from her size and length. But Captain Blowser saw something more with his glass—for the Susan Jane could not approach very near to the water-logged hull that was almost level with the surface of the sea, for fear of colliding through the “scud” of the waves—something that made him take in the clipper’s lighter sails, despite his anxiety to take advantage of every breath of the wind and make a rapid passage to Boston, and lay the ship to; while he had a boat lowered, and went to inspect the derelict hulk more closely.
Mr. Rawlings, the passenger, accompanied the skipper, so did also Seth Allport; and naturally, as Seth went, Sailor Bill followed his protector, or adopted master, dog-fashion as usual, taking his seat in the boat as a matter of course!
On boarding the abandoned vessel a horrible sight presented itself. Three corpses were stretched on the afterpart of the deck near the wheelhouse—which had been wrenched away, along with the binnacle and bulwarks, and the cabin skylight, while the hull was full of water and kept afloat only by the buoyant nature of the cargo, although they could not discover what that was, as it was completely submerged. But those three corpses told a tale of some deadly struggle, as there was a knife still tightly clutched in the dead hand of the one, an empty revolver in that of another, while the third had a rope tied round his throat as if he had been strangled by the other two.
The bodies of all, which exhibited signs of emaciation through starvation, being almost skeletons, showed also numerous wounds, while their clothing was rent into tatters from cuts and slashes apart from the wash of the water, which had, of course, swept away most of the blood that had probably flowed from the wounds, although there was a large dark blotch on the deck close to the after hatch, testifying that some gory pool had been there.
“I guess there’s been some of the devil’s work here!” said the skipper gravely.
“You bet,” chimed in Seth Allport, whose keen eye was looking out for some evidence of the nationality of the ship. “She ain’t a foreigner, and Britishers don’t murder one another like this. S’pose there was a muss on board, or something like a mutiny, eh, Cap?” he added presently.
“Yes,” answered Captain Blowser, who was also looking keenly about with the same motive as Seth; and he was quicker too than the shrewd seaman in this instance, for he noticed forward, under the legs of one of the corpses, a loose piece of wood, on which he pounced.
Pulling it out as quick as thought, he turned it over, and the secret of the derelict hull was disclosed; for there, printed in letters of gold, showing that the piece of wood was probably part of the stern of one of the vessel’s boats, as its shape also suggested, was the name “Dragon—.” Something was apparently wanting, for the wood was broken off just at the end where the name was painted.
“Dragon?” said Seth. “I remember a ship called the Dragon King, that used to sail regularly to the East Indies. I saw her last time I was in Liverpool!”
“Waal,” said the skipper, “we can only report what we’ve seen when we get home; for we can’t get down below to examine her papers or anything, and must leave the old hulk to float till she sinks. I wish I had a pound of dynamite on board, and I’d blow her up, I guess; as, tossing about at sea like that, some vessel might run agin her in the night and git stove in. Let’s leave her, Hiram; we can do no good stopping any longer.”
“Let us first give those chaps there the benefit of a sailor’s grave,” said the mate, pointing to the corpses; and although the men, from some superstitious feeling common enough among seamen, did not like to touch them, the skipper and mate had no such scruples, and heaved the remains of those who might have been murderers or the victims of some atrocious crime overboard, with as much solemnity as they could. After which they all returned to the Susan Jane, which pursued her way to her home port.
Story 1—Chapter V.
A Mining Project.
After passing the derelict ship, the Susan Jane met with nothing more of an eventful character in her voyage; and after making a very fair run across the Atlantic, thereby gladdening the heart of Captain Blowser, sighted Nantucket lights, rounding Cape Cod the next day, and dropped her anchor, finally, in Boston harbour, opposite the mouth of the River Charles; about which Longfellow has written some pretty lines, beginning—
“River! That in silence windest
Through the meadows bright and free,
Till at length thy rest thou findest
In the bosom of the sea!”
Before the American coast was reached, however, an arrangement was come to.
When taking his grog one evening with Seth Allport and Mr. Rawlings, the second mate having the watch, the Captain was expressing his regret at the approaching loss of several of those who had sailed with him for many voyages, for he knew that they would ship in other vessels when they found that the Susan Jane was to be laid up for a thorough overhaul.
“Well, Cap,” Seth Allport said, “I shall not be sorry myself for a spell on shore. Since I had them three years over among the mines in Californy I get restless at sea after a spell, and long for a turn among the mountains.”
“Were you at work on the surface all the time, or did you work in any of the deep mines?” asked Mr. Rawlings.
“I worked for a few months on the Yuba,” Seth said, “but then I went to sinking. I worked with some mates first, and then I bossed a mine down Grass Valley. It was held in shares. I only had a few, but I was spry and handy, you see, and I worked up till I got to be boss, or what you would call manager. The lode paid well for a while; then it fell off, and I got to longing for the sea again; so I just chucked it up, and made tracks from ‘Frisco.’ ”
“If you would like another spell at mining, Seth, I can put you in the way of it,” said Mr. Rawlings. “I am on my way out to Dakota, to prospect a mine there. I will tell you how it has come about. I had a cousin, a wild young fellow, who left home in the early days of the Californian gold fever, and was not heard of for many years. Eighteen months ago he returned. His father and mother were long since dead, and having not a friend in the world he hunted me up, for we had been great chums in our boyhood. He was a broken man, and I did not think he had long to live. I took him in, and he lingered on for fifteen months, and then died. He told me all his history during the twenty years he had been mining, and a strange, wild story it was—at one time almost starving, at another wealthy enough to have come home and lived in comfort. The most important part, and that which is of most interest at present, is that in a valley in the heart of Dakota he had discovered what he believed to be a most valuable gold mine. Among the hills he had found some lumps of very valuable ore. He had traced down the outcrop of the lode, which on the surface looked poor enough, to a point near the river. Here another lode intersected it, and believing this to be the richest point, he began with four comrades to sink a shaft. For a long time the lode was poor, but at a depth of eighty feet they came upon ore of immense richness. Three days after they had made the discovery a band of Indians fell upon them. Ned’s four comrades were killed, but he managed to escape. The Indians burnt the hut and destroyed the surface-workings, and then left. Alone and penniless, Ned could do nothing. He made his way back to the settlement, and then worked on the railway. He was afraid to tell any one his secret, and was in no hurry, as he had no fear of any chance miners discovering the spot, which he said looked by no means a promising one. Then he fell ill, and a yearning for England seized him, and so he came to me. Before he died he told me the story, and gave me the fullest directions for finding the spot where, he said, a great fortune awaited me. I was by profession a civil engineer and knew a little of mining, so I determined to undertake the adventure. I was preparing to start, having made arrangements for a prolonged absence, when in London I met my old friend Captain Blowser, and