Jules Verne For Children: 16 Incredible Tales of Mystery, Courage & Adventure (Illustrated Edition). Jules VerneЧитать онлайн книгу.
all the crew to their feet. The men who were not on watch came on deck. Captain Hull, leaving his cabin, went toward the bow.
Mrs. Weldon, Nan, even the indifferent Cousin Benedict himself, came to lean over the starboard rail, so as to see the wreck signaled by the young novice.
Negoro, alone, did not leave the cabin, which served him for a kitchen; and as usual, of all the crew, he was the only one whom the encounter with a wreck did not appear to interest.
Then all regarded attentively the floating object which the waves were rocking, three miles from the Pilgrim.
“Ah! what can that be?” said a sailor.
“Some abandoned raft,” replied another.
“Perhaps there are some unhappy shipwrecked ones on that raft,” said Mrs. Weldon.
“We shall find out,” replied Captain Hull. “But that wreck is not a raft. It is a hull thrown over on the side.”
“Ah! is it not more likely to be some marine animal—some mammifer of great size?” observed Cousin Benedict.
“I do not think so,” replied the novice.
“Then what is your idea, Dick?” asked Mrs. Weldon.
“An overturned hull, as the captain has said, Mrs. Weldon. It even seems to me that I see its copper keel glistening in the sun.”
“Yes—indeed,” replied Captain Hull. Then addressing the helmsman: “Steer to the windward, Bolton. Let her go a quarter, so as to come alongside the wreck.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the helmsman.
“But,” continued Cousin Benedict, “I keep to what I have said. Positively it is an animal.”
“Then this would be a whale in copper,” replied Captain Hull, “for, positively, also, I see it shine in the sun!”
“At all events, Cousin Benedict,” added Mrs. Weldon, “you will agree with us that this whale must be dead, for it is certain that it does not make the least movement.”
“Ah! Cousin Weldon,” replied Cousin Benedict, who was obstinate, “this would not be the first time that one has met a whale sleeping on the surface of the waves.”
“That is a fact,” replied Captain Hull; “but to-day, the thing is not a whale, but a ship.”
“We shall soon see,” replied Cousin Benedict, who, after all, would give all the mammifers of the Arctic or Antarctic seas for an insect of a rare species.
“Steer, Bolton, steer!” cried Captain Hull again, “and do not board the wreck. Keep a cable’s length. If we cannot do much harm to this hull, it might cause us some damage, and I do not care to hurt the sides of the Pilgrim with it. Tack a little, Bolton, tack!”
The Pilgrim’s prow, which had been directed toward the wreck, was turned aside by a slight movement of the helm.
The schooner was still a mile from the capsized hull. The sailors were eagerly looking at it. Perhaps it held a valuable cargo, which it would be possible to transfer to the Pilgrim. We know that, in these salvages, the third of the value belongs to the rescuers, and, in this case, if the cargo was not damaged, the crew, as they say, would make “a good haul.” This would be a fish of consolation for their incomplete fishing.
A quarter of an hour later the wreck was less than a mile from the Pilgrim.
It was indeed a ship, which presented itself on its side, to the starboard. Capsized as far as the nettings, she heeled so much that it would be almost impossible to stand upon her deck. Nothing could be seen beyond her masts. From the port-shrouds were banging only some ends of broken rope, and the chains broken by the cloaks of white-crested waves. On the starboard side opened a large hole between the timbers of the frame-work and the damaged planks.
“This ship has been run into,” cried Dick Sand.
“There is no doubt of that,” replied Captain Hull; “and it is a miracle that she did not sink immediately.”
“If there has been a collision,” observed Mrs. Weldon, “we must hope that the crew of this ship has been picked up by those who struck her.”
“It is to be hoped so, Mrs. Weldon,” replied Captain, Hull, “unless this crew sought refuge in their own boats after the collision, in case the colliding vessel should sail right on—which, alas! sometimes happens.”
“Is it possible? That would be a proof of very great inhumanity, Mr. Hull.”
“Yes, Mrs. Weldon. Yes! and instances are not wanting. As to the crew of this ship, what makes me believe that it is more likely they have left it, is that I do not see a single boat; and, unless the men on board have been picked up, I should be more inclined to think that they have tried to reach the land. But, at this distance from the American continent, or from the islands of Oceanica, it is to be feared that they have not succeeded.”
“Perhaps,” said Mrs. Weldon, “we shall never know the secret of this catastrophe. Meanwhile, it might be possible that some man of the crew is still on board.”
“That is not probable, Mrs. Weldon,” replied Captain Hull. “Our approach would be already known, and they would make some signals to us. But we shall make sure of it.—Luff a little, Bolton, luff,” cried Captain Hull, while indicating with his hand what course to take.
The Pilgrim was now only three cables’ length from the wreck, and they could no longer doubt that this hull had been completely abandoned by all its crew.
But, at that moment, Dick Sand made a gesture which imperiously demanded silence.
“Listen, listen!” said he.
Each listened.
“I hear something like a bark!” cried Dick Sand. In fact, a distant barking resounded from the interior of the hull. Certainly there was a living dog there, imprisoned perhaps, for it was possible that the hatches were hermetically closed. But they could not see it, the deck of the capsized vessel being still invisible.
“If there be only a dog there, Mr. Hull,” said Mrs. Weldon, "we shall save it.”
“Yes, yes!” cried little Jack, “we shall save it. I shall give it something to eat! It will love us well! Mama, I am going to bring it a piece of sugar!”
“Stay still, my child,” replied Mrs. Weldon smiling. “I believe that the poor animal is dying of hunger, and it will prefer a good mess to your morsel of sugar.”
“Well, then, let it have my soup,” cried little Jack. “I can do without it very well.”
At that moment the barking was more distinctly heard. Three hundred feet, at the most, separated the two ships. Almost immediately a dog of great height appeared on the starboard netting, and clung there, barking more despairingly than ever.
“Howik,” said Captain Hull, turning toward the master of the Pilgrim’s crew, “heave to, and lower the small boat.”
“Hold on, my dog, hold on!” cried little Jack to the animal, which seemed to answer him with a half-stifled bark.
The Pilgrim’s sails were rapidly furled, so that the ship should remain almost motionless, less than half a cable’s length from the wreck.
The boat was brought alongside. Captain Hull, Dick Sand and two sailors got into it at once.
The dog barked all the time. It tried to hold on to the netting, but every moment it fell back on the deck. One would say that its barks were no longer addressed to those who were coming to him. Were they then addressed to some sailors or passengers imprisoned in this ship?
“Is there, then, on board some shipwrecked one who has survived?” Mrs. Weldon asked herself.
A