Wild Life in the Land of the Giants Part 21

"Ever hear of Magellan, Greenie?" he continued, looking at poor Jill.

He often called Jill "Greenie," which he said was a pet name.

Now Jill and I knew all the history of the great navigator of ancient times. Our Aunt Serapheema took good care of that.

"Magellan? let me see," said Jill. "Oh yes, there used to be a Magellan who kept a draper's shop in Upper High Street."

"Well," said Peter, "that is true enough, but I hardly think that is the man. However, I've been through the straits before."

"Do they charge anything for letting you through," said Jill, quietly.

Peter laughed till he had to wriggle about in all directions. "I tell you what it is, Greenie, you'll be the death of me some day. Well, we shall touch at the Land of the Giants."

"Are there really giants?"

"I'm not going to spin any yarn from personal experience, child, because I can't to any extent. But our bo's'n told me it _was_ a land of giants. There are giant plains--they call them pampas--giant lakes and rivers, giant hills and forests--awful in their gloom--giant men and women, giant c.o.c.ks and hens--"

"Yes, the ostriches."

"And the whole is defended round the coast by giant cliffs, alive with giant birds; but we'll see for ourselves in a day or two, Greenie, if you'll only whistle for the wind."

"If it comes."

"Yes, _if_ it comes."

That same night in the first watch, which happened to be Peter's, we told, or rather _I_ told, him all I knew of Mattie's history.

He was silent for some time afterwards, leaning quietly over the weather bulwarks, watching the phosph.o.r.escence in the sea. That was a glorious sight indeed, but Peter was not thinking about that at all. "Did it ever occur to you, Jack," he said at length, "that this Adriano whom you so befriended--"

"Who so befriended us."

"--Might be one of the sailors saved from the wreck? might be even Mattie's father?"

"No, no, no," I cried, "not that, Peter. It certainly was unaccountable that when she first saw Adriano she seemed to recognise him, but remember that she could have been little over a year old when the s.h.i.+pwreck occurred. Besides, I wouldn't like to think of Adriano, friend and all as he must always rest in my memory, being Mattie's father."

"Liking has nothing to do with it one way or another."

"No, certainly not."

"a.s.suredly not," from Jill.

"But," I insisted, "the two s.h.i.+pwrecked sailors a.s.sured Nancy Gray that the lady's husband had not been on board."

"Jack," said Peter, "you're a capital sailor, but you would have made but a poor lawyer. Depend upon it there are wheels within wheels in the mystery that surrounds poor Mattie."

"It will be all the better if it is never cleared up," I said firmly, "and I hope it won't be--there!"

"Well, I think otherwise. But one of the two men told the clergyman something. Do you know what that was?"

"No, and it didn't seem to signify."

"Didn't it? There again I differ, and if you won't think me officious, I'm going to probe this matter as deeply as I can."

"Do as you please, Peter; I only hope you won't find out--"

"What?"

"Anything disagreeable."

"No fear of that, Jack. I pride myself in being able to read character, and there is that in Mattie's face and eyes that tells me she is a lady born."

"That has not been denied, Peter."

"No, but not only of gentle but unsullied birth."

As he spoke there came again, I thought, that same strange dreamy look in Peter's eyes; but I could not be sure, though the light from the companion fell full in his face.

He extended his hand, and I grasped it. It was as if we were signing a compact of some kind, I hardly knew what.

Then Jill and I went below.

Mrs Coates sat near the stove, which was burning brightly, in her little rocking chair, reading; her black maid sitting not far off sewing; in front of the fire a big pleasant-faced cat was singing a duet with the brightly burnished copper kettle, and the great lamp swung in its gymbals from a beam over head.

I could not help pausing in the doorway for a moment to admire the homelike cosiness of the scene. By and by down came Captain Coates.

"Jill, my lad," he said, as he seated himself by the little piano, "trot on deck and relieve Peter a bit."

When Peter came down he went at once for his clarionet, and we had very sweet music indeed.

This, or something like it, is the way we usually spent our evenings in fine weather.

In two days time we were, or thought we were, not far off the entrance to the First Narrows, but the horizon was hazy.

The same afternoon a great red-funnelled steamer hove in sight, and came ploughing and churning on in our direction. She was English, and homeward bound. How glad we were! We did not take ten minutes to finish our letters. They carried all kinds of tender messages and wishes and hopes, and told how well and happy we were and expected to remain.

I went in charge of the boat with the letters, and was very kindly received. As I stood on the deck of the fine steamer, I really could not help wis.h.i.+ng I was going home. It was but for a moment; then I remembered I had duties that called me elsewhere.

The s.h.i.+ps parted with cheers, and the flock of seagulls, Cape pigeons, and albatrosses that had been following the steamer divided, one half going on after her, the others electing to share our fortunes, and pick up our cook's t.i.t-bits from off the water.

We were now in Possession Bay, which surrounds the entrance to the First Narrows of Magellan Straits; but though the wind was fair, there was a strange haze lying low all round the horizon, so our good captain determined to keep "dodging" or tacking about till the weather should clear.

Captain Coates had told us at dinner that for his part he would sooner go round the Horn any day, than through the Straits, but he had important business at Sandy Point--a Chilian town of small dimensions on the Patagonia sh.o.r.e--and--"duty is duty."

The sun went down blood-red in the haze, and with as little sail as possible on her we went tacking to and fro. Two great albatrosses were sailing round and round, sometimes coming so close that we could hear the rustle of their feathers and note the glitter of their green eyes and the shape of their powerful beaks. I could not help thinking of the words of Coleridge in that weird poem, "The Ancient Mariner."

At length did come an albatross, Thorough the fog it came, As if it had been a Christian soul We hailed it in G.o.d's name.

And a good south wind sprang up behind, The albatross did follow, And every day for food or play Came to the mariner's "hollo!"

It may have been these lines that I conned over to myself, or the mournful sough to that was in the wind to-night; but, at all events, some sort of heaviness seemed to lie about my heart that I could not account for.