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The Waif of the "Cynthia"
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SHIPWRECK.
The next day the "Alaska" entered the harbor of Brest. The damage
which she had sustained was fortunately not important. An engineer who
was applied to immediately promised that her injuries should be
repaired in three days. It was therefore not a very serious delay, and
they could make up for it in a measure by taking in coal. They would
therefore not be obliged to stop at Gibraltar for this purpose, as
they had at first intended. Their next stopping-place was to be at
Malta, which they hoped to reach twenty-four hours earlier than they
had at first expected, and thus would reduce the time of their delay
in reality to two days. They therefore had nothing to worry themselves
about, and everyone felt disposed to view the accident in the most
philosophical manner.
It soon became evident that their mischance was going to be turned
into a festival. In a few hours the arrival of the "Alaska" became
known through the town, and as the newspapers made known the object of
the expedition, the commander of the Swedish vessel soon found himself
the recipient of the most flattering attentions. The admiral and Mayor
of Brest, the commander of the port, and the captains of the vessels
which were lying at anchor, all came to pay an official visit to
Captain Marsilas. A dinner and a ball were tendered to the hardy
explorers, who were to take part in the search for the "Nordenskiold."
Although the doctor and Mr. Malarius cared little for such gatherings,
they were obliged to take their places at the table which was prepared
for them. As for Mr. Bredejord, he was in his true element.
Among the friends invited by the admiral, was a grand-looking old man
with a refined but sad countenance. He soon attracted Erik's
attention, who felt a sympathy for him which he could hardly explain.
It was Mr. Durrien, Honorary Consul-general, and an active member of
the Geographical Society, who was well known on account of his travels
and researches in Asia Minor and the Soudan.
Erik had read his works with very great interest, and he mentioned
that he had done so, when he had been presented to the French
_savant_, who experienced a feeling of satisfaction as he listened to
the enthusiastic young man.
It is often the fate of travelers, when their adventures make a stir
in the world, to receive the loud admiration of the crowd; but to find
that their labors are appreciated, by those who are well informed and
capable of judging, does not occur so frequently. Therefore the
respectful curiosity of Erik went straight to the heart of the old
geographer, and brought a smile to his pale lips.
"I have never attached any great merit to my discoveries," he said, in
reply to a few words from Erik, regarding the fortunate excavations
which had recently been made. "I went ahead seeking, to forget my own
cruel misfortunes, and not caring so much for the results as I did for
prosecuting a work which was in entire accordance with my tastes.
Chance has done the rest."
Seeing Erik and Mr. Durrien so friendly, the admiral took care to seat
them together at table, so that they could continue their conversation
during dinner.
As they were taking their coffee, the young lieutenant of the "Alaska"
was accosted by a little bald-headed man, who had been introduced to
him as Dr. Kergaridec, who asked him without any preamble to what
country he belonged. A little surprised at first by the question, Erik
answered that he was from Sweden, or, to be more exact, from Norway,
and that his family lived in the province of Bergen. Then he inquired
his motive for asking the question.
"My motive is a very simple one," answered his interlocutor. "For an
hour I have been studying your face across the table, while we were at
dinner, and I have never seen anywhere such a perfect type of the Celt
as I behold in you! I must tell you that I am devoted to Celtic
studies, and it is the first time that I have met with this type among
the Scandinavians. Perhaps this is a precious indication for science,
and we may be able to place Norway among the regions visited by our
Gaelic ancestors?"
Erik was about to explain to the worthy _savant_ the reasons which
would invalidate this hypothesis, when Dr. Kergaridec turned away to
pay his respects to a lady who had just entered the room, and their
conversation was not resumed.
The young lieutenant of the "Alaska" would probably never have thought
of this incident again, but the next day as they were passing through
a street near the market, Dr. Schwaryencrona said suddenly to him:
"My dear child, if I have ever had a doubt as to your Celtic origin, I
should have lost it here. See how you resemble these Bretons. They
have the same brown eyes, black hair, bony neck, colored skin and
general appearance. Bredejord may say what he likes, but you are a
pure-blooded Celt--you may depend upon it." Erik then told him what
old Dr. Kergaridec had said to him, and Dr. Schwaryencrona was so
delighted that he could not talk of anything else all the day.
With the other passengers of the "Alaska," Tudor Brown had received
and accepted an invitation from the prefect. They thought up to the
last moment that he would go in his accustomed dress, for he had made
his appearance in it just as they were all going ashore to the dinner.
But doubtless the necessity of removing his precious hat appeared too
hard to him, for they saw him no more that evening.
When he returned after the ball, Erik learned from Mr. Hersebom that
Tudor Brown had returned at seven o'clock and dined alone. After that,
he had entered the captain's room to consult a marine chart; then he
had returned to the town in the same small boat which had brought him
on board.
This was the last news which they received of him.
The next evening at five o'clock Tudor Brown had not made his
appearance. He knew, however, that the machinery of the "Alaska" would
be repaired by that time, and her fires kindled, after which it would
be impossible to defer her departure. The captain had been careful to
notify every one. He gave the order to hoist the anchor.
The vessel had been loosened from her moorings when a small boat was
signaled making all speed toward them. Every one believed that it
carried Tudor Brown, but they soon saw that it was only a letter which
had been sent on board. It occasion general surprise when it was
discovered that this letter was directed to Erik.
When he opened it, Erik found that it simply contained the card of Mr.
Durrien, the Honorary Consul-general, and member of the Geographical
Society, with these words written in pencil:
"A good voyage--a speedy return."
We can not explain Erik's feelings.
This attention from an amiable and distinguished _savant_ brought
tears to his eyes. In leaving this hospitable shore where he had
remained three days, it seemed to him as if he was leaving his own
country. He placed Mr. Durrien's card in his memorandum book, and said
to himself that this adieu from an old man could not fail to bring him
good luck.
It was now the 20th of February. The weather was fine. The sun had
sunk below the horizon, leaving a sky as cloudless as that of summer.
Erik had the watch during the first quarter, and he walked the
quarter-deck with a light step. It seemed to him that, with the
departure of Tudor Brown, the evil genius of the expedition had
disappeared.
"Provided that he does not intend to rejoin us at Malta or Suez," he
said to himself.
It was possible--indeed, even probable--if Tudor Brown wished to spare
himself the long voyage which the "Alaska" would make before reaching
Egypt. While the vessel was going around the coasts of France and
Spain, he could, if it so pleased him, stay for a week in Paris, or at
any other place, and then take the mail packet either to Alexandria or
Suez, and rejoin the "Alaska" at either of those places; or he could
even defer doing so until they reached Singapore or Yokohama.
But this was only a possibility. The fact was that he was no longer on
board, and that he could not cast a damper upon the spirits of the
company.
Their dinner, also, which they took at six o'clock, as usual, was the
gayest which they had yet sat down to. At dessert they drank to the
success of the expedition, and every one, in his heart, associated it,
more or less, with the absence of Tudor Brown. Then they went on deck
and smoked their cigars.
It was a dark night, but in the distance toward the north they could
see the light of Cape Saint Matthew. They soon signaled, also, the
little light on the shore at Bec-du-Raze, which proved that they were
in their right course. A good breeze from the north-east accelerated
the speed of the vessel, which rolled very little, although the sea
was quite rough.
As the dinner-party reached the deck, one of the sailors approached
the captain, and said: "Six knots and a quarter."
"In that case we shall not want any more coal until we arrive at
Behring's Straits," answered the captain. After saying these words, he
left the doctor and went down to his room. There he selected a large
chart, which he spread out before him under a brilliant light, which
was suspended from the ceiling. It was a map of the British Admiralty,
and indicated all the details of the course which the "Alaska"
intended to take. The shores, the islands, the sand-banks, the
light-houses, revolving lights, and the most minute details were all
clearly marked out. With such a chart and a compass it seemed as if
even a child might be able to guide the largest ship through these
perilous passes; and yet, a distinguished officer of the French Navy,
Lieutenant Mage, who had explored the Niger, had been lost in these
waters, with all his companions, and his vessel, the "Magician."
It had happened that Captain Marsilas had never before navigated in
these waters. In fact, it was only the necessity of stopping at Brest
which had brought him here now, otherwise he would have passed a long
distance from shore. Therefore he was careful to study his chart
attentively, in order to keep his proper course. It seemed a very easy
matter, keeping on his left the Pointe-du-Van, the Bec-du-Raze, and
the Island of Sein, the legendary abode of the nine Druidesses, and
which was nearly always veiled by the spray of the roaring waters; he
had only to run straight to the west and to the south to reach the
open sea. The light on the island indicated clearly his position, and
according to the chart, the island ended in rocky heights, bordered by
the open sea, whose depth reached one hundred meters. The light on the
island was a useful guide on a dark night, and he resolved to keep
closer to it than he would have done in broad daylight. He therefore
ascended to the deck, and told Erik to sail twenty-five degrees toward
the southwest.
This order appeared to surprise the young lieutenant.
"To the south-west, did you say?" he asked in a respectful manner,
believing that he had been mistaken.
"Yes, I said to the south-west!" repeated the commander, dryly: "Do
you not like this route?"
"Since you ask me the question, captain, I must confess that I do not.
I should have preferred running west for some time."
"To what purpose? we should only lose another night."
The commander spoke in a tone that did not permit of any
contradiction, and Erik gave the order which he had received. After
all the captain was an experienced seaman in whom they might have
perfect confidence.
Slight as was the change in her course, it sufficed to modify sensibly
the sailing of the vessel. The "Alaska" commenced to roll a great
deal, and to dip her prow in the waves. The log indicated fourteen
knots, and as the wind was increasing, Erik thought it prudent to take
a couple of reefs.
The doctor and Mr. Bredejord both became a prey to seasickness, and
descended to their cabins. The captain, who had for some time been
pacing up and down the deck, soon followed their example.
He had hardly entered his own apartment when Erik stood before him.
"Captain," said the young man, "I have heard suspicious noises, like
waves breaking over rocks. I feel conscientiously bound to tell you
that in my opinion we are following a dangerous route."
"Certainly, sir, you are gifted with tenaciousness," cried the
captain. "What danger can you fear when we have this light at least
three good miles, if not four, distant from us?"
And he impatiently with his finger pointed out their position upon the
chart, which he had kept spread out upon his table.
Erik followed the direction of his finger, and he saw clearly that the
island was surrounded by very deep waters. Nothing could be more
decisive and reassuring, in the eyes of a mariner. But still he felt
sure that it was not an illusion, those noises which he had heard, and
which certainly were made by waves breaking upon a rocky shore very
close to them.
It was a strange case, and Erik hardly liked to acknowledge it to
himself, but it did not seem to him that he could recognize in this
profile of the coast which lay spread out before his eyes the
dangerous spot which he remembered in the same geographical studies
which he had pursued. But could he venture to oppose his dim
impressions and vague remembrances against a chart of the British
Admiralty? Erik dared not do it. These charts are made expressly to
guard navigators against errors or any illusions of their memory. He
therefore bowed respectfully to his chief and returned to his position
on deck.
He had scarcely reached it when he heard this cry resounding through
the vessel, "Breakers on the starboard!" followed almost immediately
by a second shout of "Breakers on the larboard!"
There was a loud whistle and a clattering of many feet followed by a
series of effective maneuvers. The "Alaska" slackened her course, and
tried to back out. The captain made a rush up the stairs.
At this moment he heard a grating noise, then suddenly a terrible
shock which shook the vessel from prow to stern. Then all was silent,
and the "Alaska" remained motionless.
She was wedged in between two submarine rocks.
Commander Marsilas, his head bleeding from a fall, mounted the deck,
where the greatest confusion reigned. The dismayed sailors made a rush
for the boats. The waves dashed furiously over the rocks upon which
the vessel had been shipwrecked. The distant light-houses, with their
fixed lights, seemed to reproach the "Alaska" for having thrown
herself into the dangers which it was their duty to point out. Erik
tried vainly to penetrate through the gloom and discover the extent of
the damage which the vessel had sustained.
"What is the matter?" cried the captain, still half-stunned by his
fall.
"By sailing south-west, sir, according to your orders, we have run
upon breakers," replied Erik.
Commander Marsilas did not say a word. What could he answer? He turned
on his heel, and walked toward the staircase again.
Their situation was a tragical one, although they did not appear to be
in any immediate peril. The vessel remained motionless between the
rocks which seemed to hold her firmly, and their adventure appeared to
be more sad than frightful. Erik had only one thought--the expedition
was brought to a full stop--his hope of finding Patrick O'Donoghan was
lost.
He had scarcely made his somewhat hasty reply to the captain, which
had been dictated by this bitter disappointment, than he regretted
having done so. He therefore left the deck to go in search of his
superior officer with the generous intention of comforting him, if it
were possible to do so. But the captain had disappeared, and three
minutes had not elapsed when a detonation was heard.
Erik ran to his room. The door was fastened on the inside. He forced
it open with a blow of his fist.
Commander Marsilas lay stretched out upon the carpet, with a revolver
in his right hand, and a bullet wound in his forehead.
Seeing that the vessel was shipwrecked by his fault, he had blown his
brains out. Death had been instantaneous. The doctor and Mr.
Bredejord, who had run in after the young lieutenant, could only
verify the sad fact.
But there was no time for vain regrets. Erik left to his two friends
the care of lifting the body and laying it upon the couch. His duty
compelled him to return to the deck, and attend to the safety of the
crew and passengers.
As he passed the door of Mr. Malarius, the excellent man, who had been
awakened by the stopping of the vessel, and also by the report of the
pistol, opened his door and put out his white head, covered by his
black silk night-cap. He had been sleeping ever since they left Brest,
and was therefore ignorant of all that had occurred.
"Ah, well, what is it? Has anything happened?" he asked quietly.
"What has happened?" replied Erik. "My dear master, the 'Alaska' has
been cast upon breakers, and the captain has killed himself!"
"Oh!" said Mr. Malarius, overcome with surprise. "Then, my dear child,
adieu to our expedition!"
"That is another affair," said Erik. "I am not dead, and as long as a
spark of life remains in me, I shall say, 'Go forward!'"