Brandon dragged away all the bodies, laid him in as easy a posture as possible, and then rushed up to the deck for some water. Returning he dashed it over the Hindu, and bound up one or two wounds which seemed most dangerous.
His care soon brought the Hindu to consciousness.
The man opened his eyes, looked upon Brandon first with astonishment, then with speechless grat.i.tude, and clasping his hand moaned faintly, in broken English.
"Bless de Lor! Sahib!"
Brandon hurried up on deck and calling some of the sailors had the Hindu conveyed there. All crowded around him to ask him questions, and gradually found out about the attack of the pirates. The ship had been becalmed the day before, and the Malay proa was in sight, evidently with evil intentions. They had kept a good watch, and when the fog came had some hope of escape. But the Malay boats had sought them through the fog, and had found them. They had resisted well, but were overpowered by numbers. The Hindu had been cook of the ship, and had fought till the last by the side of his captain.
Without waiting to hear the Hindu"s story Brandon went back to the cabin. The door that opened into the inner cabin was shut. He tried it. It was locked. He looked into the keyhole. It was locked from the inside.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "SHE FLUNG HERSELF ON HER KNEES IN A TRANSPORT OF GRAt.i.tUDE."] "Is any one there?" he asked.
A cry of surprise was the sole answer.
"You are safe. We are friends. Open!" cried Brandon.
Then came the sound of light footsteps, the key was turned, the door slided back, and there appeared before the astonished eyes of Brandon a young girl, who, the moment that she saw him, flung herself on her knees in a transport of grat.i.tude and raised her face to Heaven, while her lips uttered inaudible words of thanksgiving.
She was quite a young girl, with a delicate, slender frame, and features of extreme loveliness. Her complexion was singularly colorless. Her eyes were large, dark, and luminous. Her hair fell in rich ma.s.ses over her shoulders. In one hand she held a knife, to which she clung with a death-like tenacity.
"Poor child!" murmured Brandon, in accents of tenderest commiseration.
"It is but little that you could do with that knife."
She looked up at him as she knelt, then looked at the keen glittering steel, and, with a solemnity of accent which showed how deeply she was in earnest, murmured, half to herself,
"It could at least have saved me!"
Brandon smiled upon her with such a smile as a father might give at seeing the spirit or prowess of some idolized son.
"There is no need," he said, with a voice of deep feeling, "there is no need of that now. You are saved. You are avenged. Come with me." The girl rose. "But wait," said Brandon, and he looked at her earnestly and most pityingly. "There are things here which you should not see. Will you shut your eyes and let me lead you?"
"I can bear it," said the girl. "I will not shut my eyes."
"You must," said Brandon, firmly, but still pityingly, for he thought of that venerable woman who lay in blood outside the door. The girl looked at him and seemed at first as though about to refuse. There was something in his face so full of compa.s.sion, and entreaty, and calm control, that she consented. She closed her eyes and held out her hand.
Brandon took it and led her through the place of horror and up to the deck.
Her appearance was greeted with a cry of joy from all the sailors. The girl looked around. She saw the Malays lying dead upon the deck. She saw the ship that had rescued, and the proa that had terrified her. But she saw no familiar face.
She turned to Brandon with a face of horror, and with white lips asked:
"Where are they all?"
"Gone," said Brandon.
"What! All?" gasped the girl.
"All--except yourself and the cook."
She shuddered from head to foot; at last, coming closer to Brandon, she whispered: "And my nurse--?"
Brandon said nothing, but, with a face full of meaning, pointed upward.
The girl understood him. She reeled, and would have fallen had not Brandon supported her. Then she covered her face with her hands, and, staggering away to a seat, sank down and wept bitterly.
All were silent. Even the rough sailors respected that grief. Rough! Who does not know that sailors are often the most tender-hearted of men, and always the most impulsive, and most quick to sympathy?
So now they said nothing, but stood in groups sorrowing in her sorrow.
The Captain, meanwhile, had revived, and was already on his feet looking around upon the scene. The Hindu also had gained strength with every throb of his heart and every breath of the air.
But suddenly a cry arose from one of the men who stood nearest the hatchway.
"The ship is sinking!"
Every one started. Yes, the ship was sinking. No one had noticed it; but the water was already within a few feet of the top. No doubt Zangorri had been scuttling her when he rushed out of the hold at the noise of the attack.
There was nothing left but to hasten away. There was time to save nothing. The bodies of the dead had to be left with the ship for their tomb. In a short time they had all hurried into the boat and were pulling away. But not too soon. For scarcely had they pulled away half a dozen boat-lengths from the ship than the water, which had been rising higher and higher, more rapidly every moment, rushed madly with a final onset to secure its prey; and with a groan like that of some living thing the ship went down.
A yell came from over the water. It rose from the Malay proa, which was moving away as fast as the long sweeps could carry her. But the dead were not revenged only. They were remembered. Not long after reaching the _Falcon_ the sailors were summoned to the side which looked toward the spot where the ship had sunk, and the solemn voice of Brandon read the burial-service of the Church.
And as he read that service he understood the fate which he had escaped when the ship pa.s.sed Coffin Island without noticing his signal.
CHAPTER X.
BEATRICE.
It was natural that a young girl who had gone through so fearful an ordeal should for some time feel its effects. Her situation excited the warmest sympathy of all on board the ship; and her appearance was such as might inspire a chivalrous respect in the hearts of those rough but kindly and sensitive sailors who had taken part in her rescue.
Her whole appearance marked her as one of no common order. There was about her an air of aristocratic grace which inspired involuntary respect; an elegance of manner and complete self-possession which marked perfect breeding. Added to this, her face had something which is greater even than beauty--or at least something without which beauty itself is feeble--namely, character and expression. Her soul spoke out in every lineament of her n.o.ble features, and threw around her the charm of spiritual exaltation.
To such a charm as this Brandon did not seem indifferent. His usual self-abstraction seemed to desert him for a time. The part that he had taken in her rescue of itself formed a tie between them; but there was another bond in the fact that he alone of all on board could a.s.sociate with her on equal terms, as a high-bred gentleman with a high-bred lady.
The Hindu had at once found occupation, for Brandon, who had seen the stuff that was in him, offered to take him for his servant. He said that his name was Asgeelo, but he was commonly called Cato, and preferred that name to any other. He regarded Brandon as his saviour, with all the superst.i.tion which Hindus can feel, and looked up to this saviour as a superior being. The offer of employment was eagerly accepted, and Cato at once entered upon the few duties which his situation could require on ship-board.
Meanwhile the young lady remained unknown. At first she spent the greater part of her time in her room, and only came out at meal-times, when the sadness of her face prevented any thing except the most distant and respectful courtesy. No one knew her name, and no one asked it. Cato was ignorant of it. She and the old nurse had only been known to him as the young missis and the old missis.
Brandon, roused from his indifference, did all in his power to mitigate the gloom of this fair young creature, whom fate had thrown in his way.
He found that his attentions were not unacceptable. At length she came out more frequently, and they became companions on the quarter-deck.
Brandon was touched by the exhibition which she had made of her grat.i.tude to himself. She persisted in regarding him alone as the one to whom she owed her life, and apologized to him for her selfishness in giving way so greatly to her grief. After a time she ventured to tell him the story of the voyage which she had been making. She was on her way from China to England. Her father lived in England, but she had pa.s.sed her life in Hong-Kong, having been brought up there by the old nurse, who had accompanied her on her voyage until that fearful calamity.
She told him at different times that her father was a merchant who had business all over the world, and that he had of late taken up his station in his own home and sent for her.
Of her father she did not say much, and did not seem to know much.
She had never seen him. She had been in Hong-Kong ever since she could remember. She believed, however, that she was born in England, but did not know for certain. Her nurse had not known her till she had gone to China.