perished; the fate of the other was uncertain.
We said that the crew had deserted the vessel, but we did not assert that every existing being had been removed out of her. Had such been the case, we should not have taken up the reader's time in describing inanimate matter. It is life that we portray, and life there still was in the shattered hull thus abandoned to the mockery of the ocean. In the caboose of the Circassian, that is, in the cooking-house secured on deck, and which fortunately had been so well fixed as to resist the force of the breaking waves, remained three beings—a man, a woman, and a child. The two first-mentioned were of that inferior race which have, for so long a period, been procured from the sultry Afric coast, to toil, but reap not for themselves; the child which lay at the breast of the female was of European blood, now, indeed, deadly pale, as it attempted in vain to draw sustenance from its exhausted nurse, down whose sable cheeks the tears coursed, as she occasionally pressed the infant to her breast, and turned it round to leeward to screen it from the spray which dashed over them at each returning swell. Indifferent to all else, save her little charge, she spoke not, although she shuddered with the cold as the water washed her knees each time that the hull was careened into the wave. Cold and terror had produced a change in her complexion, which now wore a yellow, or sort of copper hue.
The male, who was her companion, sat opposite to her upon the iron range which once had been the receptacle of light and heat, but was now but a weary seat to a drenched and worn-out wretch. He, too, had not spoken for many hours; with the muscles of his face relaxed, his thick lips pouting far in advance of his collapsed cheeks, his high cheekbones prominent as budding horns, his eyes displaying little but their whites, he appeared to be an object of greater misery than the female, whose thoughts were directed to the infant and not unto herself. Yet his feelings were still acute, although his faculties appeared to be deadened by excess of suffering.
'Eh, me!' cried the negro woman faintly, after a long silence, her head falling back with extreme exhaustion. Her companion made no reply, but, roused at the sound of her voice, bent forward, slid open the door a little, and looked out to windward. The heavy spray dashed into his glassy eyes, and obscured his vision; he groaned, and fell back into his former position. 'What you tink, Coco?' inquired the negress, covering up more carefully the child, as she bent her head down upon it. A look of despair, and a shudder from cold and hunger, were the only reply.
It was then about eight o'clock in the morning, and the swell of the ocean was fast subsiding. At noon the warmth of the sun was communicated to them through the planks of the caboose, while its rays poured a small stream of vivid light through the chinks of the closed panels. The negro appeared gradually to revive; at last he rose, and with some difficulty contrived again to slide open the door. The sea had gradually decreased its violence, and but occasionally broke over the vessel; carefully holding on by the door-jambs, Coco gained the outside, that he might survey the horizon.
'What you see, Coco?' said the female, observing from the caboose that his eyes were fixed upon a certain quarter.
'So help me God, me tink me see something; but ab so much salt water in um eye, me no see clear,' replied Coco, rubbing away the salt which had crystallised on his face during the morning.
'What you tink um like, Coco?'
'Only one bit cloud,' replied he, entering the caboose, and resuming his seat upon the grate with a heavy sigh.
'Eh, me!' cried the negress, who had uncovered the child to look at it, and whose powers were sinking fast. 'Poor lilly Massa Eddard, him look very bad indeed—him die very soon, me fear. Look, Coco, no ab breath.'
The child's head fell back upon the breast of its nurse, and life appeared to be extinct.
'Judy, you no ab milk for piccaninny; suppose um ab no milk, how can live? Eh! stop, Judy, me put lilly finger in um mouth; suppose Massa Eddard no dead, him pull.'
Coco inserted his finger into the child's mouth, and felt a slight drawing pressure. 'Judy,' cried Coco, 'Massa Eddard no dead yet. Try now, suppose you ab lilly drop oder side.'
Poor Judy shook her head mournfully, and a tear rolled down her cheek; she was aware that nature was exhausted. 'Coco,' said she, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, 'me give me heart blood for Massa Eddard; but no ab milk—all gone.'
This forcible expression of love for the child, which was used by Judy, gave an idea to Coco. He drew his knife out of his pocket, and very coolly sawed to the bone of his forefinger. The blood flowed and trickled down to the extremity, which he applied to the mouth of the infant.
'See, Judy, Massa Eddard suck—him not dead,' cried Coco, chuckling at the fortunate result of the experiment, and forgetting at the moment their almost hopeless situation.
The child, revived by the strange sustenance, gradually recovered its powers, and in a few minutes it pulled at the finger with a certain degree of vigour.
'Look, Judy, how Massa Eddard take it,' continued Coco. 'Pull away, Massa Eddard, pull away. Coco ab ten finger, and take long while suck em all dry.' But the child was soon satisfied, and fell asleep in the arms of Judy.
'Coco, suppose you go see again,' observed Judy. The negro again crawled out, and again he scanned the horizon.
'So help me God, dis time me tink, Judy—yes, so help me God, me see a ship!' cried Coco joyfully.
'Eh!' screamed Judy faintly, with delight; 'den Massa Eddard no die.'
'Yes, so help me God—he come dis way!' and Coco, who appeared to have recovered a portion of his former strength and activity, clambered on the top of the caboose, where he sat, cross-legged, waving his yellow handkerchief, with the hope of attracting the attention of those on board; for he knew that it was very possible that an object floating little more than level with the water's surface might escape notice.
As it fortunately happened, the frigate, for such she was, continued her course precisely for the wreck, although it had not been perceived by the look-out men at the mast-heads, whose eyes had been directed to the line of the horizon. In less than an hour our little party were threatened with a new danger, that of being run over by the frigate, which was now within a cable's length of them, driving the seas before her in one widely extended foam, as she pursued her rapid and impetuous course. Coco shouted to his utmost, and fortunately attracted the notice of the men who were on the bowsprit, stowing away the foretopmast-staysail, which had been hoisted up to dry after the gale.
'Starboard, hard!' was roared out.
'Starboard it is,' was the reply from the quarter-deck, and the helm was shifted without inquiry, as it always is on board of a man-of-war; although, at the same time, it behoves people to be rather careful how they pass such an order, without being prepared with a subsequent and most satisfactory explanation.
The topmast studding-sail flapped and fluttered, the foresail shivered, and the jib filled as the frigate rounded to, narrowly missing the wreck, which was now under the bows, rocking so violently in the white foam of the agitated waters that it was with difficulty that Coco could, by clinging to the stump of the mainmast, retain his
