California -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Western stories
"I fear it is so," said Brace, who had followed Winslow; "although," he
added in a lower tone, with an angry glance at the latter, "that brute
need not have blustered it out to frighten everybody. They're searching
the ship again, but there seems no hope. He hasn't been seen since last
night. He was supposed to be in his state-room--but as nobody missed
him--you know how odd and reserved he was--it was only when the steward
couldn't find him, and began to inquire, that everybody remembered they
hadn't seen him all day. You are frightened, Miss Keene; pray sit down.
That fellow Winslow ought to have had more sense."
"It seems so horrible that nobody knew it," said the young girl,
shuddering; "that we sat here laughing and talking, while perhaps he
was--Good heavens! what's that?"
A gruff order had been given: in the bustle that ensued the ship began
to fall off to leeward; a number of the crew had sprung to the davits of
the quarter boat.
"We're going about, and they're lowering a boat, that's all; but it's as
good as hopeless," said Brace. "The accident must have happened before
daylight, or it would have been seen by the watch. It was probably long
before we came on deck," he added gently; "so comfort yourself, Miss
Keene, you could have seen nothing."
"It seems so dreadful," murmured the young girl, "that he wasn't even
missed. Why," she said, suddenly raising her soft eyes to Brace, "YOU
must have noticed his absence; why, even I"--She stopped with a slight
confusion, that was, however, luckily diverted by the irrepressible
Winslow.
"The skipper's been routed out at last, and is giving orders. He don't
look as if his hat fitted him any too comfortably this morning, does
he?" he laughed, as a stout, grizzled man, with congested face and
eyes, and a peremptory voice husky with alcoholic irritation, suddenly
appeared among the group by the wheel. "I reckon he's cursing his luck
at having to heave-to and lose this wind."
"But for a human creature's life!" exclaimed Mrs. Markham in horror.
"That's just it. Laying-to now ain't going to save anybody's life, and
he knows it. He's doin' it for show, just for a clean record in the log,
and to satisfy you people here, who'd kick up a row if he didn't."
"Then you believe he's lost?" said Miss Keene, with glistening eyes.
"There ain't a doubt of it," returned Winslow shortly.
"I don't agree with you," said a gentle voice.
They turned quickly towards the benevolent face of Senor Perkins, who
had just joined them.
"I differ from my young friend," continued the Senor courteously,
"because the accident must have happened at about daybreak, when we were
close inshore. It would not be impossible for a good swimmer to reach
the land, or even," continued Senor Perkins, in answer to the ray of
hope that gleamed in Miss Keene's soft eyes, "for him to have been
picked up by some passing vessel. The smoke of a large steamer was
sighted between us and the land at about that time."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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