Пятнадцатилетний капитан / Dick Sand. A Captain at Fifteen. Уровень 2

“Look out, Howick, it’s coming!” shouted Captain Hull.

The boat swerved to avoid the blow. There was a sudden pause. The whale spouted up two gigantic columns of blood and water, lashed its tail, and renewed its angry attack upon the boat.

“Bale away, men!” cried the captain.

The sailors set to work, they were baling with all their might. Captain Hull cut the harpoon-line, because the whale made no further attempt to escape. It was going to fight desperately to the very end.

There was no alternative but to face the encounter. The whale caught the boat with a violent blow from its dorsal fin.

“Where’s Howick?” screamed the captain in alarm.

“Here I am, captain; all right!” replied the boatswain.

“The rudder’s smashed,” he said.

“Take another, Howick; quick!” cried the captain.

The young whale made its appearance on the surface of the sea. The mother made a fresh dash in its direction.

Captain Hull looked towards the “Pilgrim,” and waved his signal frantically above his head. But no human efforts could effectually hasten the arrival of the ship. The wind was filling the sails, but the progress was slow.

The whale demanded attention.

“Sheer off, Howick!” bellowed the captain.

But the order was useless. The sailors saw the failure, and uttered one long, despairing cry. From beneath there came a tremendous blow from the monster’s tail. It sent the boat into the air. In fragments it fell back again into a sea.

There was no hope. The whale returns once again to the attack; the waters around the struggling sailors seethe and foam.

In a quarter of an hour afterwards, Dick Sand, with the negroes, reaches the scene of the catastrophe. All is still and desolate. Nothing is visible except a few fragments of the whale-boat floating on the water.

Chapter IX

Captain Dick Sand

The first feeling after the terrible disaster was one of grief and horror at the fearful death of the victims. Captain Hull and his men were swept away, and they were powerless to help. Not one was saved; the schooner 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, Mrs. Weldon sank upon her knees; little Jack knelt beside her; and Dick, old Nan, and all the negroes stood reverently around her.

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 brought the whale across their path. Dick Sand, 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 were ignorant of seamen’s duties; and here was a lady with her child on board.

Such were the facts which presented themselves to the mind of Dick. He was gazing gloomily at the spot where Captain Hull, his benefactor, died. The lad raised his eyes sadly; he scanned the horizon with the vain hope to descry some vessel for Mrs. Weldon and her son.

The ocean was deserted. The whale disappeared. The apprentice knew enough to be brave. He did not have false expectations.

Negoro came back upon deck. Every muscle of his face remained unmoved; not a gesture, not a word betrayed the least emotion.

He came to Dick Sand. 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 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. “From me.”

“It’s necessary to understand,” Mrs. Weldon said, “that Dick Sand is captain now. He will order, and the others must obey.”

Negoro frowned, bit his lip, sneered, and came back to his cabin.

Dick cast his eye first at the sails, then along the deck. He was conscious that the hopes of the passengers centred in himself.

Although he was satisfied of his capability, with the help of the negroes, to manipulate the sails, he could not control the ship’s course. He needed a few more years’ experience. How to use the sextant, to take the altitude of the stars, to read the time from his chronometer; sun, moon, and planets?

Mrs. Weldon recognized the thoughts which were passing in the mind of the lad.

“The command of the ship is in your hands, Dick,” she said. “You will do your duty; and Tom, and the rest of them, no doubt, will help you.”

“Yes, Mrs. Weldon,” rejoined Dick brightly; “and I hope I’ll make them good seamen. If only the weather lasts fair, everything will go on well enough. Will get safe ashore.”

Mrs. Weldon wanted to know about the “Pilgrim’s” present position.

“Never fear, madam,” he answered; “as we get nearer land we will see a cruiser which will put us into the right track.”

Dick went to the captain’s cabin and took the chart. According to it they were in lat. 43° 35’, S., and long. 164° 13’, W[21 - lat. 43° 35’, S., and long. 164° 13’, W. – 43° 35’ южной широты и 164° 13’ западной долготы]. The “Pilgrim” was like a microscopic infusoria on the vast surface of that sea, and hundreds and hundreds of weary miles separated the ship from the coast.

No time to lose. Dick appealed to the negroes, and explained them the difficulty of the task. Tom answered that they were anxious to do all they could to assist him. If their knowledge is small, yet their arms are strong. They will certainly be obedient to his orders.

“My friends,” said Dick; “I will take the helm. But you know I must have my rest sometimes. No one can live without sleep. Now, Tom, you will stand by me for the remainder of the day. I will explain you how to steer by the aid of the compass. It is not difficult. You will soon learn.”

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

Chapter X

The New Crew

Dick’s prime object was to land his passengers safely at Valparaiso or some other American port. But maybe it’s better to take the “Pilgrim” back again to New Zealand? The distance is considerably less than it is to America. But the wind now veered to the north-west, and he decided to take advantage of it.

The new crew remained on watch. They were ready to make any alteration which the sails required. But the wind was so steady that no need arose for their services.

And Cousin Benedict? Where was he? And what was he doing?