The Waif of the "Cynthia" by André Laurie and Jules Verne


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Page 58

"By sailing south-west, sir, according to your orders, we have run upon
breakers," replied Erik.

Commander Marsilas did not say a word. What could he answer? He turned
on his heel, and walked toward the staircase again.

Their situation was a tragical one, although they did not appear to be
in any immediate peril. The vessel remained motionless between the rocks
which seemed to hold her firmly, and their adventure appeared to be more
sad than frightful. Erik had only one thought--the expedition was
brought to a full stop--his hope of finding Patrick O'Donoghan was lost.

He had scarcely made his somewhat hasty reply to the captain, which had
been dictated by this bitter disappointment, than he regretted having
done so. He therefore left the deck to go in search of his superior
officer with the generous intention of comforting him, if it were
possible to do so. But the captain had disappeared, and three minutes
had not elapsed when a detonation was heard.

Erik ran to his room. The door was fastened on the inside. He forced it
open with a blow of his fist.

Commander Marsilas lay stretched out upon the carpet, with a revolver in
his right hand, and a bullet wound in his forehead.

Seeing that the vessel was shipwrecked by his fault, he had blown his
brains out. Death had been instantaneous. The doctor and Mr. Bredejord,
who had run in after the young lieutenant, could only verify the sad
fact.

But there was no time for vain regrets. Erik left to his two friends the
care of lifting the body and laying it upon the couch. His duty
compelled him to return to the deck, and attend to the safety of the
crew and passengers.

As he passed the door of Mr. Malarius, the excellent man, who had been
awakened by the stopping of the vessel, and also by the report of the
pistol, opened his door and put out his white head, covered by his black
silk night-cap. He had been sleeping ever since they left Brest, and was
therefore ignorant of all that had occurred.

"Ah, well, what is it? Has anything happened?" he asked quietly.

"What has happened?" replied Erik. "My dear master, the 'Alaska' has
been cast upon breakers, and the captain has killed himself!"

"Oh!" said Mr. Malarius, overcome with surprise. "Then, my dear child,
adieu to our expedition!"

"That is another affair," said Erik. "I am not dead, and as long as a
spark of life remains in me, I shall say, 'Go forward!'"




CHAPTER XIV.

ON THE ROCKS.


The "Alaska" had been thrown upon the rocks with such violence that she
remained perfectly motionless, and the situation did not appear to be
immediately dangerous for her crew and passengers. The waves,
encountering this unusual obstacle, beat over the deck, and covered
everything with their spray; but the sea was not rough enough to make
this state of affairs dangerous. If the weather did not change, day
would break without any further disaster. Erik saw this at a glance. He
had naturally taken command of the vessel, as he was the first officer.
Having given orders to close the port-holes and scuttles carefully, and
to throw tarred cloths over all openings, in case the sea should become
rougher, he descended to the bottom of the hold, in company with the
master carpenter. There he saw with great satisfaction that no water had
entered. The exterior covering of the "Alaska" had protected her, and
the precaution which they had taken against polar icebergs had proved
very efficacious against the rocky coast; in fact the engine had stopped
at once, being disarranged by the frightful shock, but it had produced
no explosion, and they had, therefore, no vital damage to deplore. Erik
resolved to wait for daybreak, and then disembark his passengers if it
should prove necessary.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Wed 24th Dec 2025, 18:28