but they are quoted incorrectly. The poet said:
"Audentes fortuna juvat"....
It is on the darers, not on the audacious, that Fortune almost always smiled. The audacious may be unguarded. The darer thinks first, acts afterwards. There is the difference!
d.i.c.k Sand was _audens_.
At fifteen he already knew how to take a part, and to carry out to the end whatever his resolute spirit had decided upon. His manner, at once spirited and serious, attracted attention. He did not squander himself in words and gestures, as boys of his age generally do. Early, at a period of life when they seldom discuss the problems of existence, he had looked his miserable condition in the face, and he had promised "to make" himself.
And he had made himself--being already almost a man at an age when others are still only children.
At the same time, very nimble, very skilful in all physical exercises, d.i.c.k Sand was one of those privileged beings, of whom it may be said that they were born with two left feet and two right hands. In that way, they do everything with the right hand, and always set out with the left foot.
Public charity, it has been said, had brought up the little orphan. He had been put first in one of those houses for children, where there is always, in America, a place for the little waifs. Then at four, d.i.c.k learned to read, write and count in one of those State of New York schools, which charitable subscriptions maintain so generously.
At eight, the taste for the sea, which d.i.c.k had from birth, caused him to embark as cabin-boy on a packet ship of the South Sea. There he learned the seaman"s trade, and as one ought to learn it, from the earliest age. Little by little he instructed himself under the direction of officers who were interested in this little old man. So the cabin-boy soon became the novice, expecting something better, of course. The child who understands, from the beginning, that work is the law of life, the one who knows, from an early age, that he will gain his bread only by the sweat of his brow--a Bible precept which is the rule of humanity--that one is probably intended for great things; for some day he will have, with the will, the strength to accomplish them.
It was, when he was a cabin-boy on board a merchant vessel, that d.i.c.k Sand was remarked by Captain Hull. This honest seaman immediately formed a friendship with this honest young boy, and later he made him known to the ship-owner, James W. Weldon. The latter felt a lively interest in this orphan, whose education he completed at San Francisco, and he had him brought up in the Catholic religion, to which his family adhered.
During the course of his studies, d.i.c.k Sand showed a particular liking for geography, for voyages, while waiting till he was old enough to learn that branch of mathematics which relates to navigation. Then to this theoretical portion of his instruction, he did not neglect to join the practical. It was as novice that he was able to embark for the first time on the "Pilgrim." A good seaman ought to understand fishing as well as navigation. It is a good preparation for all the contingencies which the maritime career admits of. Besides, d.i.c.k Sand set out on a vessel of James W. Weldon"s, his benefactor, commanded by his protector, Captain Hull. Thus he found himself in the most favorable circ.u.mstances.
To speak of the extent of his devotion to the Weldon family, to whom he owed everything, would be superfluous. Better let the facts speak for themselves. But it will be understood how happy the young novice was when he learned that Mrs. Weldon was going to take pa.s.sage on board the "Pilgrim." Mrs. Weldon for several years had been a mother to him, and in Jack he saw a little brother, all the time keeping in remembrance his position in respect to the son of the rich ship-owner. But--his protectors knew it well--this good seed which they had sown had fallen on good soil. The orphan"s heart was filled with grat.i.tude, and some day, if it should be necessary to give his life for those who had taught him to instruct himself and to love G.o.d, the young novice would not hesitate to give it. Finally, to be only fifteen, but to act and think as if he were thirty, that was d.i.c.k Sand.
Mrs. Weldon knew what her _protege_ was worth. She could trust little Jack with him without any anxiety. d.i.c.k Sand cherished this child, who, feeling himself loved by this "large brother," sought his company.
During those long leisure hours, which are frequent in a voyage, when the sea is smooth, when the well set up sails require no management, d.i.c.k and Jack were almost always together. The young novice showed the little boy everything in his craft which seemed amusing.
Without fear Mrs. Weldon saw Jack, in company with d.i.c.k Sand, spring out on the shrouds, climb to the top of the mizzen-mast, or to the booms of the mizzen-topmast, and come down again like an arrow the whole length of the backstays. d.i.c.k Sand went before or followed him, always ready to hold him up or keep him back, if his six-year-old arms grew feeble during those exercises. All that benefited little Jack, whom sickness had made somewhat pale; but his color soon came back on board the "Pilgrim," thanks to this gymnastic, and to the bracing sea-breezes.
So pa.s.sed the time. Under these conditions the pa.s.sage was being accomplished, and only the weather was not very favorable, neither the pa.s.sengers nor the crew of the "Pilgrim" would have had cause to complain.
Meanwhile this continuance of east winds made Captain Hull anxious. He did not succeed in getting the vessel into the right course. Later, near the Tropic of Capricorn, he feared finding calms which would delay him again, without speaking of the equatorial current, which would irresistibly throw him back to the west. He was troubled then, above all, for Mrs. Weldon, by the delays for which, meanwhile, he was not responsible. So, if he should meet, on his course, some transatlantic steamer on the way toward America, he already thought of advising his pa.s.senger to embark on it. Unfortunately, he was detained in lat.i.tudes too high to cross a steamer running to Panama; and, besides, at that period communication across the Pacific, between Australia and the New World, was not as frequent as it has since become.
It then was necessary to leave everything to the grace of G.o.d, and it seemed as if nothing would trouble this monotonous pa.s.sage, when the first incident occurred precisely on that day, February 2d, in the lat.i.tude and longitude indicated at the beginning of this history.
d.i.c.k Sand and Jack, toward nine o"clock in the morning, in very clear weather, were installed on the booms of the mizzen-topmast. Thence they looked down on the whole ship and a portion of the ocean in a largo circ.u.mference. Behind, the perimeter of the horizon was broken to their eyes, only by the mainmast, carrying brigantine and fore-staff. That beacon hid from them a part of the sea and the sky. In the front, they saw the bowsprit stretching over the waves, with its three jibs, which were hauled tightly, spread out like three great unequal wings.
Underneath rounded the foremast, and above, the little top-sail and the little gallant-sail, whose bolt-rope quivered with the pranks of the breeze. The schooner was then running on the larboard tack, and hugging the wind as much as possible.
d.i.c.k Sand explained to Jack how the "Pilgrim," ballasted properly, well balanced in all her parts, could not capsize, even if she gave a pretty strong heel to starboard, when the little boy interrupted him.
"What do I see there?" said he.
"You see something, Jack?" demanded d.i.c.k Sand, who stood up straight on the booms.
"Yes--there!" replied little Jack, showing a point of the sea, left open by the interval between the stays of the standing-jib and the flying-jib.
d.i.c.k Sand looked at the point indicated attentively, and forthwith, with a loud voice, he cried;
"A wreck to windward, over against starboard!"
CHAPTER III.
THE WRECK.
d.i.c.k Sand"s cry brought all the crew to their feet. The men who were not on watch came on deck. Captain Hull, leaving his cabin, went toward the bow.
Mrs. Weldon, Nan, even the indifferent Cousin Benedict himself, came to lean over the starboard rail, so as to see the wreck signaled by the young novice.
Negoro, alone, did not leave the cabin, which served him for a kitchen; and as usual, of all the crew, he was the only one whom the encounter with a wreck did not appear to interest.
Then all regarded attentively the floating object which the waves were rocking, three miles from the "Pilgrim."
"Ah! what can that be?" said a sailor.
"Some abandoned raft," replied another.
"Perhaps there are some unhappy shipwrecked ones on that raft," said Mrs. Weldon.
"We shall find out," replied Captain Hull. "But that wreck is not a raft. It is a hull thrown over on the side."
"Ah! is it not more likely to be some marine animal--some mammifer of great size?" observed Cousin Benedict.
"I do not think so," replied the novice.
"Then what is your idea, d.i.c.k?" asked Mrs. Weldon.
"An overturned hull, as the captain has said, Mrs. Weldon. It even seems to me that I see its copper keel glistening in the sun."
"Yes--indeed," replied Captain Hull. Then addressing the helmsman: "Steer to the windward, Bolton. Let her go a quarter, so as to come alongside the wreck."
"Yes, sir," replied the helmsman.
"But," continued Cousin Benedict, "I keep to what I have said.
Positively it is an animal."
"Then this would be a whale in copper," replied Captain Hull, "for, positively, also, I see it shine in the sun!"
"At all events, Cousin Benedict," added Mrs. Weldon, "you will agree with us that this whale must be dead, for it is certain that it does not make the least movement."
"Ah! Cousin Weldon," replied Cousin Benedict, who was obstinate, "this would not be the first time that one has met a whale sleeping on the surface of the waves."
"That is a fact," replied Captain Hull; "but to-day, the thing is not a whale, but a ship."
"We shall soon see," replied Cousin Benedict, who, after all, would give all the mammifers of the Arctic or Antarctic seas for an insect of a rare species.