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Updated: June 12, 2025
My position was facing the little round window of the cabin as Mr Frewen made the first start toward obtaining our freedom; and as the saw began to bite at the wood with a sound like that which would be made by a gnawing mouse, I stood gazing out at the beauty of the grand tropic night.
I put together here a few brief extracts from Fleeming's letters, none very important in itself, but all together building up a pleasant picture of the father with his sons. 'JAN. 15TH, 1875. Frewen contemplates suspending soap bubbles by silk threads for experimental purposes. I don't think he will manage that.
But while this was going on, some one leaned out of the window, and the rope was seized. Then I felt it jar as if a knife-blade was being used upon it, and this as I had turned round, and my back was toward the window. Then my voice came back with the power to speak, and in a quick whisper I said, as I felt that in another instant I should fall into the sea "Mr Frewen! help!"
"Very well," said Mr Preddle, almost petulantly, "you know best; but I am very, very anxious to get out of this wretched cabin." "So are we," said Mr Frewen. "Help us, then, by keeping guard by your door, and at the slightest sound outside giving us the alarm."
"We shall never try to escape. We're shut in here, and shall be drowned. Is the ship going down?" "No, no; she'll ride it out." "But those men don't know how to manage her, do they?" "I think so," I replied. "I don't half understand big ships, but they seem to be doing what my father would do with a yacht." "Let me come, Dale," whispered Mr Frewen.
Mr Frewen did not ask, but darted to one of the little drawers with which his cabin was fitted, took out a case and a packet of surgical necessaries packed all ready for emergencies, and turned back to the door. "Here, where are you going, youngster?" cried Hampton, who was looking in with a peculiar expression upon his countenance. "With Mr Frewen," I said stoutly. "No, you're not. Go back."
At that moment Mr Denning made his appearance, and from his aspect we all thought that his supply had been taken too, but his face lit-up as he exclaimed "They could not find them. The cartridge-box was at the bottom of the locker." "Ha!" cried Mr Frewen, triumphantly. "How many have you?" "A hundred, for I have not fired off one." "And what bore is your gun?" "Twelve-bore." "And yours?"
I knew directly after that it was not from the lantern placed on the stern-rail, but from the pale grey glare in the east, for I had reached my shelter none too soon. It was the beginning of another day. The light was coming fast now, as the sound of talking died out on the deck, and as I rose, Mr Frewen caught my hand. "My dear lad," he whispered, "I thought you were gone. Thank God! thank God!"
I did not thoroughly understand why, and attributed it to Mr Denning's ill-temper, consequent upon his being unwell, for he was haughty and distant with Mr Frewen whenever he tried to be friendly, and I used to set it down to his having had so much to do with doctors that he quite hated them; but there seemed to be no reason why he should snub Mr Preddle so whenever the big stout fellow approached him and his sister and tried to enter into conversation.
Seating themselves on chairs in European fashion at one side of the table, whilst Raymond and his two companions occupied those opposite, they first made inquiry as to the wounded men and Mrs. Marston, and the planter answered their polite queries. Then after a pause Raymond began by saying Frewen. * Chief gentleman. A whale-ship. * His full title, "Malië, warrior of Samatau."
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