How long this singular chase might have continued, it is impossible to say. Perhaps until the lunatic had exhausted his insane strength, and sunk into the sea: since he appeared to have no idea of making an attempt to return to the boat. He never looked round to see how far he was leaving it behind him. On the contrary, he swam straight on, his eyes steadfastly fixed upon the one object that seemed to have possession of his soul,--the Coromantee! That it was of him only he was thinking could be told from his speech,--for even while in the water he continued to utter imprecations on the head of the negro,--his name being every moment mentioned in terms of menace.
The chase could not have lasted much longer,--even had it been permitted to terminate by the exhaustion of the insane swimmer. The supernatural strength of insanity could not forever sustain him; and in due time he would have sunk helplessly to the bottom of the sea.
But this was not the sort of death that Fate had designed for him. A still more violent ending of his life was in store for the unfortunate wretch. Though he himself knew it not, those aboard the _Catamaran_ had now become aware of its approach.
Behind him,--scarce half a cable"s length,--two creatures were seen moving through the water. Horrible-looking creatures they were: for they were hammer-headed sharks! Both were conspicuously seen: for they had risen to the surface, and were swimming with their dark dorsal fins protruded above, and set with all the triangular sharpness of staysails.
Although they had not been observed before by those on the _Catamaran_, they appeared to have been swimming in the proximity of the gig,--on which, beyond doubt, they had been for some time attending.
They were now advancing side by side, in the same direction as the swimmer, and there could be no doubt as to their design. They were evidently in chase of _him_, with as much eagerness as he was in chase of the _Catamaran_.
The wretched man neither saw nor thought of them. Even had he seen them it is questionable whether he would have made any attempt to escape from them. They would, in all likelihood, have appeared a part of the fearful phantasmagoria already filling his brain.
In any case he could not have eluded those earnest and eager pursuers,-- unless by the intervention of those upon the raft; and even had these wished to succour him, it would have required a most prompt and adroit interference. They _did_ wish it, even became desirous to save him.
Their hearts melted within them as they saw the unfortunate man, maniac though he was, in such a situation. Fear him as they might,--and deem him an enemy as they did,--still was he a human being,--one of their own kind,--and their natural instinct of hostility towards those ravenous monsters of the deep had now obliterated that which they might have felt for him about to become their prey.
Risking everything from the encounter which they might expect with a madman, they suspended their oars, and then commenced backing towards him. Even s...o...b..ll exerted himself to bring the _Catamaran_ within saving distance of the wretch who, in his insane hatred, was threatening his own destruction.
Their good intentions, however, proved of no avail. The man was destined to destruction. Before they could get near enough to make any effective demonstration in his favour, the sharks had closed upon him.
They who would have saved him saw it, and ceased their exertions to become spectators of the tragical catastrophe.
It was a brief affair. The monsters swam up, one on each side of their intended victim, till their uncouth bodies were parallel with his. He saw one of them first, and, with an instinct more true than his dethroned powers of reason, swerved out of the way to avoid it. The effort resulted in placing him within reach of the other, that, suddenly turning upon its side, grasped him between its extended jaws.
The shriek that followed appeared to proceed from only the half of his body; for the other half, completely dissevered, had been already carried off between the terrible teeth of the _zygaena_.
There was but one cry. There was not time for another, even had there been strength. Before it could have been uttered, the remaining moiety of the madman"s body was seized by the second shark, and borne down into the voiceless abysm of the ocean!
CHAPTER NINETY TWO.
BOARDING THE BOAT.
Back to the boat! In the minds of the _Catamaran"s_ crew naturally did this resolve succeed to the spectacle they had just witnessed. There was nothing to stay them on that spot. The bloodstained water, which momentarily marked the scene of the tragedy, had no further interest for those who had been spectators to it; and once more heading their craft for the drifting gig, they made way towards it as fast as their oars and the sail, now reset, would carry them.
They no longer speculated as to the boat being occupied by a crew,-- either sleeping or awake. In view of the events that had occurred, it was scarce possible that anyone, in either condition, could be aboard of her. She must have been abandoned, before that hour, by all but the solitary individual standing amidships, and pouring out his insane utterances to the ears of the ocean.
Where were the men that were missing? This was the question that occupied the crew of the _Catamaran_,--as they advanced towards the deserted gig--and to which they could give no satisfactory answer.
They could only shape conjectures,--none of which had much air of probability.
From what they knew or suspected to have occurred upon the large raft they could draw inferences of a revolting nature. It might be that the same course had been pursued among those in the gig; and yet it seemed scarce probable. It was known that the latter had gone off from the burning bark, if not sufficiently provided for a long voyage, at least with a stock of both food and water that should have sustained them for many days. Little William had been a witness of their departure, and could confirm these facts. Why then had their boat-voyage resulted so disastrously? It could not have arisen from want. It could not have been the gale.
In all probability, had the sea washed over them, the boat would either have been swamped or capsized. The captain alone could not have righted her. Besides, why should he be the only survivor of the six?
But there had not been storm enough for a disaster of this kind; and unless by some dire mismanagement, the men could not have fallen overboard.
Still puzzled to account for the strange condition of things, the crew of the _Catamaran_ continued to pull towards the gig, and at length came up with it.
There they beheld a horrid spectacle, though it afforded no clue to what had occurred. In fact it left the affair as inexplicable as ever. What they saw gave them reason to believe that some terrible tragedy had transpired on board the boat; and that not the elements, but the hand of man, had caused the disappearance of the crew.
Along the bottom timbers lay stretched a human form. It was not only lifeless, but disfigured by many wounds,--anyone of which would have proved mortal. The face was gashed in the most frightful manner; and the skull crushed in several places, as if by repeated blows of a heavy hammer, while numerous wounds, that had been inflicted by some sharp-bladed weapon or implement, appeared over the breast and body.
This mutilated shape of humanity was lying half submerged in the bilge-water contained in the boat, and which looked more like blood. So deep was it in colour, and in such quant.i.ty, that it was difficult to believe it could have been stained by the blood of only that one body, to which in turn, as the red fluid went washing over it, had been imparted the same sanguinary hue.
The features of the hideous corpse could not be identified. The axe, knife, or whatever weapon it was, had defaced them beyond recognition; but for all this, both Ben Brace and s...o...b..ll recognised the mutilated remains. Something in the garments still clinging round the corpse was remembered, and by this they were enabled to identify it as that of one too well-known to them,--the first mate of the slaver.
Instead of elucidating the mystery, this knowledge only rendered it more inexplicable. It was evident the man had been murdered. The wounds proved that; for from the appearance of the extravasated blood they must have been given while he was still alive.
It was but natural to suppose that the deed had been done by his insane companion. The number and character of the wounds,--consisting of blows, cuts, and gashes, showed that they had been inflicted by some one out of his senses; for life must have been extinct before half of them could have been given.
So far the circ.u.mstances seemed clear enough. The maniac captain had murdered the mate. No motive could be guessed at; for no motive was needed to inspire a madman.
Beyond this all was shrouded in mystery. What was to explain the absence of the other four? What had become of them? The crew of the _Catamaran_ could only frame conjectures,--all of a horrid nature. That of s...o...b..ll was the most rational that could be arrived at.
It suggested the probability that the first mate and captain had combined in the destruction of the others,--their motive being to get all the food and water themselves, and thus secure a better chance of prolonging their lives. They might have accomplished their atrocious design in various ways. There might have been a struggle in which these two men,--much stronger than their fellows,--had proved victorious; or there might not have been any contest at all. The foul crime could have been committed in the night, when their unsuspicious comrades were asleep; or even by the light of day, when the latter were under the spell of intoxication,--produced by the brandy that had furnished part of the stores of the gig.
All these were horrid imaginings; but neither s...o...b..ll nor the sailor could help giving way to them. Otherwise they could not account for the dreadful drama of which that bloodstained boat must have been the scene.
Supposing their conjectures to have been correct, no wonder that the sole survivor of such scenes should have been found a raving lunatic,-- no wonder the man had gone mad!
CHAPTER NINETY THREE.
THE CATAMARAN ABANDONED.
For some time the crew of the _Catamaran_ stood contemplating the gig and its lifeless occupant, with looks that betokened repugnance.
By reason of the many dread scenes they had already pa.s.sed through, this feeling was the less intense, and gradually wore away. It was neither the time nor the place for any show of sentimentalism. Their own perilous situation was too strongly impressed on their minds to admit of unprofitable speculations; and instead of indulging in idle conjectures about the past, they directed their thoughts to the future.
The first consideration was, what was to be done with the gig?
They would take possession of her, of course. There could be no question about this.
It is true the _Catamaran_ had done them good service. She had served to keep them afloat, and thus far saved their lives.
In calm weather they could have made themselves very comfortable on their improvised embarkation; and might have remained safe upon it, so long as their water and provisions lasted. But with such a slow-sailing craft the voyage might last longer than either; and then it could only result in certain death. They might not again have such good fortune in obtaining fish; and their stock of water once exhausted, it was too improbable to suppose they should ever be able to replenish it. There might not be another shower of rain for weeks; and even should it fall, it might be in such rough weather that they could not collect a single quart of it. Her slow-sailing was not the only objection to the _Catamaran_. Their experience in the gale of the preceding night had taught them, how little they could depend upon her in the event of a real storm. In very rough weather she would certainly be destroyed.
Her timbers under the strain would come apart; or, even if they should stick together, and by the buoyancy of the empty casks continue to keep afloat, the sea would wash over them all the same and either drown or otherwise destroy them.
In such a long time as it must take before reaching land, they could not expect to have a continuance of fair weather.
With the gig,--a first-rate craft of its kind,--the case would be different.
Ben Brace well knew the boat, for he had often been one of its crew of rowers.
It was a fast boat,--even under oars,--and with a sail set to it, and a fair wind, they might calculate upon making eight or ten knots an hour.
This would in no great time enable them to run down the "trades," and bring them to some port of the South American coast,--perhaps to Guiana, or Brazil.