The Gold Brick Part 9

"Crying? no, no; don't you hear how I laugh?"

"That's worse yet; the chains are breaking your heart, Jube."

"No, I like 'em; they're a sort of company."

"Company!"

"Yes; when I'm all alone in the daytime, you know, I can jingle tunes with 'em."

"It's awful music, Jube; my heart trembles when I hear it. Besides, I cannot get close to you, the iron keeps me off."

"Just creep up to this side, little master, and lean against my shoulder; the feel of you gives me heart."

Paul crept close to his friend, and pa.s.sed one arm over his chest as his cheek rested on the shoulder turned lovingly for its reception.

"How the water beats and roars," said Paul, clinging close to his friend; "it sounds like that night."

"Yes, I've been listening to it all day; sometimes it seems close, too, as if it would leap in and tear me to pieces; but that is when you are not here."

"How it moans, Jube!"

"Don't tremble, little master, it's only the water, and that isn't cruel like men."

"Hallo, here, havn't you a voice, cuffy? Here's some prog, and I've brought something to rig up a light that you can see to eat by."

It was Rice, with a tin basin in his hand half full of lard, in which a twist of cotton lay coiled like a serpent.

"There, just wait till I set this down s.h.i.+pshape, and you shall see what I've got; some boiled beef and las.h.i.+ngs of grog; havn't wet my whistle to-day. Hallo, cuffy, what's this--a cargo of iron on board!--who did that ere?"

"_He_ did it," said Jube, while Paul lifted his head; with hope in his eyes.

"_He_ did it, did he!" Here the sailor emitted half a dozen heavy oaths, in broad English, which neither the boy nor Jube understood. "Just give us hold here; if I don't smash every link on 'em afore ten minutes is over, call me a land lubber that's afraid of his mammy. Hold out them hands, blackball. By jingo! can't do it without a hammer. Yes, this'll do; smash, here it goes! You like that music, my little commodore, does ye? Now out with yer feet, blackball, and when the captain comes, tell him I did it."

Jube, who had been painfully cramped for hours, stood up and stretched himself, as the irons fell with a clank to his feet.

"It seems kind o' refres.h.i.+ng, I reckon," said Rice, bringing one keg forward, on which he placed his light, and another which was to serve as a table. "Where's that jackknife, whipper-snapper? Out with it, and cut up the grub. Set to, cuffy. Glory! how the s.h.i.+p rolls and pitches! We'll have work afore morning. The fellow will crowd all sail; he'll fetch the brig into the middle of next week at this rate. Never mind; set to, all hands, we may as well go to Davy Jones' locker with a full cargo on the stomach as with empty lockers."

Jube was nearly famished, notwithstanding his boasted dinner, and he accepted this hearty invitation with zest. Paul tasted a few mouthfuls of the food, but with strange hesitation, as if he were putting some restraint on his appet.i.te. His own little store of provisions remained untasted, and he made no effort to bring it forth.

"Why don't you stow away?" asked Rice, cutting a lump of beef in two and splicing it, as he observed, to a piece of bread. "What are you afeared of?"

"I--I'd like to save a little, if you please," said Paul, timidly.

"Save a little! why, what's the use? There's plenty on board; I can get a double allowance any time."

"You can, and will you?" cried the boy, eagerly.

"Why, yes, but what for?"

"We may want it, who knows? The captain may forbid you to come here, and then Jube would starve."

"Well, that's sensible. It ain't likely to happen, but then there's no harm in a full locker. I'll bring down a bag of bread this minute if he's in the cabin--then there's plenty of oranges in the cargo; if you come to hunger, cuffy, you can stave in a box, and hide the boards. Now fall to, youngster. There's no fear of a famine."

The boy was very hungry, but it made him faint, rather than eager.

Something seemed to excite him; perhaps it was the gathering storm, through which the brig labored heavily. Perhaps he had some vague, childish hope, scarcely understood by himself; certainly his eyes had never shone so brightly before. His face was that of a young hero preparing for battle.

The brig plunged and reeled more and more. Her timbers began to strain and creak; the waves leaped and howled against her sides like charges of cavalry in fierce action. The roar and boom of the storm was terrible.

The two men who sat together in the dim light, floating upon the basin near by, looked at each other. The negro's face was ashen gray; the sailor lost his ruddy color; but the boy's eyes grew bright as stars.

"It's on us--it's on us--and every st.i.tch of canvas out!" cried Rice. "I knew he was acting like a fool, but didn't expect this. Splurge! heave!

Crack--crack! Jerusalem! there goes the mainsail! Aye, aye."

The hoa.r.s.e call of a trumpet rang through every corner of the brig.

"All hands on deck!"

"Aye, aye!" shouted Rice, kindling to his work; "keep a stiff upper lip, cuffy, and cheer the boy, for we are just as near Davy's Locker as any of us ever will be again!"

They saw him plunge onward through the reeling freight, and he was gone.

The poor negro and the child were left alone, not quite in darkness, for the cotton wick still s.h.i.+mmered fitfully, and made the blackness beyond its little pale circle more dismal than ever. It seemed just enough of light to see each other perish by, and that was all.

Louder and fiercer grew the storm. The brig was tossed upon it like a handful of drift wood; every timber seemed to carry on a struggle by itself--every joint wrenched and tore against its fastenings. The strained rudder shrieked like a wild animal in the agonies of death. The hoa.r.s.e cry of the trumpet sounded like a groan through the general turmoil. But all these sounds were nothing to the howl of the winds, and the great upheaving rout of the waters, as they swelled and mingled together in one tremendous uproar. The negro fell upon his knees, trembling and ashen; but the boy--the gentle, sensitive child--stood up, with a smile on his mouth and a beautiful brightness in his eyes.

"Don't be afraid!" he said, bending over the negro. "The G.o.d that took care of my mamma when she fell asleep, is here. Something tells me so."

The poor negro had no G.o.d of his own people to understand, so he hung upon the words that fell from those young lips with unreasoning trust.

The dusky color came back to his cheek, and lifting his faithful eyes upward, he said meekly:

"If you say so, young master, I believe it. Jube go where you go; she'll be sure to want him, too."

A fierce plunge--a recoil--and the brig stood still, s.h.i.+vering in all her timbers, like a wild horse with its fore feet over a precipice. It was but an instant. Then a cataract of waters swept over her. She rolled upon her side, and could not right herself; a mighty throe, and she struggled back, working heavily. Another plunge--a crash--a despairing cry from overhead--and the boy started from his wrapt composure.

"Come, Jube, let us go up and tell them not to be afraid."

The crew had given up. One man, Rice, stood at the helm, resolute to meet death at his post when it came. Thrasher stood firmly, with the trumpet grasped in his right hand; but his face was like marble, and he gave no orders. The brig that he commanded was almost a wreck. The sails had been swept away; the mainmast was in splinters; not a vestige of her ma.s.sive bulwarks was left. The men were grouped together in sullen despair. Nothing was to be done--they could only stand still and wait.

With that tornado tearing through the mighty waters, and las.h.i.+ng them into great sheets of angry foam, there was no contending. They huddled together, that group of stout men, helpless as infants.

When despair was on every face, and the storm raged fiercest, that pale, Heaven-eyed boy, came up through the hatches, and stood among the sailors, smiling. He did not speak, but the sweet serenity of his face gave them courage.

The mainmast had fallen, dragging heavily on the s.h.i.+p. The last order of the mate had been to cut it away, but no one obeyed, and thus inevitable destruction lay before them.

"One more onset, my men!" cried Rice. "Clear away the mast and she will right herself."

"Jube, give me an axe, I will help!" cried Paul; and the beautiful courage that shone in his face inspired the men. They fell to work vigorously. The mast, with all its entanglement of cordage, plunged into the boiling sea, and the brig righted herself.

The storm was over, the dismantled brig still rode the waves, for the staunch timber of New England does not yield readily, and the strongest had been put to its test in that gallant craft. Jube was sent back to his imprisonment in the hold, where Paul sought him at every opportunity; but, from the night of the tempest, a strange animation had marked the boy, something which no one could understand.

"Jube," he said, having left the deck on the third night, when the sea was calm as if it had never known a tempest, and ten thousand stars broke their flickering gold on its waves. "Jube, it is time that we look for mamma. G.o.d has taken care of her, I know, but we must search and find her."