Thrilling Adventures By Land And Sea — A Sea-Fowling Adventure; Adventure with a Cobra di Capello; Combat of Wild Animals; Perilous Incident on a Canadian River; A Whale Chase

The two other piratical junks which had been following in our wake for some time, when they saw what had happened, would not venture any nearer; and at last, much to my satisfaction, the whole set of them bore away.

A SEA FOWLING ADVENTURE.

One pleasant afternoon in summer, Frank Costello jumped into his little boat, and pulling her out of the narrow creek where she lay moored, crept along the iron-bound shore until he reached the entrance of one of those deep sea-caves, so common upon the western coast of Ireland.

To the gloomy recesses of these natural caverns, millions of sea-fowl resort during the breeding season; and it was among the feathered tribes then congregated in the "Puffin Cave," that Frank meant, on that evening, to deal death and destruction.

Gliding, with lightly-dipping oars, into the yawning chasm, he stepped nimbly from his boat, and making the painter fast to a projecting rock, he lighted a torch, and, armed only with a stout cudgel, penetrated into the innermost recesses of the cavern.

There he found a vast quantity of birds and eggs, and soon became so engrossed with his sport that he paid no attention to the lapse of time, until the hollow sound of rushing waters behind him made him aware that the tide, which was ebbing when he entered the cave, had turned, and was now rising rapidly.

His first impulse was to return to the spot where he had made his boat fast; but how was he horrified on perceiving that the rock to which it had been secured was now completely covered with water.

He might, however, still have reached it by swimming; but, unfortunately, the painter, by which it was attached to the rock, not having sufficient scope, the boat, on the rising of the tide, was drawn, stern down, to a level with the water; and Frank, as he beheld her slowly fill and disappear beneath the waves, felt as if the last link between the living world and himself had been broken.

To go forward was impossible; and he well knew that there was no way of retreating from the cave, which, in a few hours, would be filled by the advancing tide.

His heart died within him, as the thought of the horrid fate which awaited him flashed across his mind.

He was not a man who feared to face death; by flood or field, on the stormy sea and the dizzy cliff, he had dared it a thousand times with perfect unconcern; but to meet the grim tyrant there, alone, to struggle hopelessly with him for life in that dreary tomb, was more than his fortitude could bear.

He shrieked aloud in the agony of despair--the torch fell from his trembling hand into the dark waters that gurgled at his feet, and, flashing for a moment upon their inky surface, expired with a hissing sound, that fell like a death-warning upon his ear.

The wind, which had been scarcely felt during the day, began to rise with the flowing of the tide, and now drove the tumultuous waves with hoarse and hideous clamor into the cavern.

Every moment increased the violence of the gale that howled and bellowed as it swept around the echoing roof of that rock-ribbed prison; while the hoarse dash of the approaching waves, and the shrill screams of the sea-birds that filled the cavern, formed a concert of terrible dissonance, well suited for the requiem, of the hapless wretch who had been enclosed in that living grave!

But the love of life, which makes us cling to it in the most hopeless extremity, was strong in Frank Costello's breast; his firmness and presence of mind gradually returned, and he resolved not to perish without a struggle.

He remembered that, at the farther extremity of the cavern, the rock rose like a flight of rude stairs, sloping from the floor to the roof; he had often clambered up those rugged steps, and he knew that, by means of them, he could place himself at an elevation above the reach of the highest tide.

But the hope thus suggested was quickly damped when he reflected that a deep fissure, which ran perpendicularly through the rock, formed a chasm ten feet in width, in the floor of the cavern, between him and his place of refuge.

The tide, however, which was now rising rapidly, compelled him to retire every instant, further into the cavern, and he felt that the only chance he had left him for life was to endeavor to cross the chasm.

He was young, active, and possessed of uncommon courage, and he had frequently, by torch-light, leaped across the abyss, in the presence of his companions, few of whom dared to follow his example.

But now, alone and in utter darkness, how was he to attempt such a perilous feat?

The conviction that death was inevitable if he remained where he was, decided him.

Collecting a handful of loose pebbles from one of the numerous channels in the floor, he proceeded cautiously over the slippery rocks, throwing at every step a pebble before him, to ascertain the security of his footing.

At length he heard the stone, as it fell from his fingers, descend with a hollow, clattering noise, that continued for several seconds.

He knew he was standing on the brink of the chasm.

One quick and earnest prayer he breathed to the invisible Power, whose hand could protect him in that dread moment--then, retiring a single pace, and screwing every nerve and muscle in his body to the utmost tension, he made a step in advance, and threw himself forward into the dark and fearful void.

Who can tell the whirlwind of thought that rushed through his brain in the brief moment that he hung above that yawning gulf?

Should he have miscalculated his distance, or chosen a place where the cleft was widest--should his footing fail, or his strength be unequal to carry him over, what a death were his!

Dashed down that horrible abyss--crashing from rock to rock, until he lay at the bottom a mutilated corpse.

The agony of years was crowded into one moment--in the next, his feet struck against the firm rock on the opposite side of the chasm, and he was saved.

At least, he felt that he had for the moment escaped the imminent peril in which he was placed, and, as he clambered joyfully up the rugged slope at the end of the cave, he thought little of the dangers he had still to encounter.

All through that long night he sat on the narrow ledge of a rock, while the angry waves thundered beneath, and cast their cold spray every instant over him.

With the ebbing of the tide, the sea receded from the cavern; but Frank hesitated to attempt crossing the chasm again; his limbs had become stiff and benumbed, and his long abstinence had so weakened his powers that he shrank from the dangerous enterprise.

While giving way to the most desponding reflections, a stentorian hilloa rang and echoed through the cavern; and never had the human voice sounded so sweetly in his ear.

He replied to it with a thrilling shout of joy, and, in a few minutes, several persons with torches appeared advancing.

A

plank was speedily thrust across the fissure, and Frank Costello once more found himself amid a group of his friends, who were warmly congratulating him upon his miraculous escape.

They told him that, from his not having returned home the preceding night, it was generally concluded that he had been drowned, and a party of his neighbors proceeded in a boat, early in the morning, in search of his body.

On reaching "Puffin Hole," they discovered his boat fastened to a rock, and full of water, as she had remained on the ebbing of the tide.

This circumstance induced them to examine the cavern narrowly, and the happy result of their search is already known.

ADVENTURE WITH A COBRA DI CAPELLO

I might have slept some four or five hours, and a dreamless and satisfying sleep it was; but certain it is--let scholiasts say what they will, and skeptics throw doubts by handfulls on the assertions of metaphysicians--that, before I awoke, and in my dreamless slumber, I had a visible perception of peril--a consciousness of the hovering presence of death!

How to describe my feelings I know not; but, as we have all read and heard that, if the eyes of a watcher are steadily fixed on the countenance of a sleeper for a certain length of time, the slumberer will be sure to start up--wakened by the mysterious magnetism of a recondite principle of clairvoyance; so it was that, with shut eyes and drowsed-up senses, an inward ability was conferred upon me to detect the living from the presence of danger near me--to see, though sleep-blind, the formless shape of a mysterious horror crouching beside me; and, as if the peril that was my nightmate was of a nature to be quickened into fatal activity by any motion on my part, I felt in my very stupor the critical necessity of lying quite still; so that, when I at last awoke and felt that as I lay with my face toward the roof, there was a thick, heavy, cold, creeping thing upon my chest, I stirred not, nor uttered a word of panic.

Danger and fear may occasionally dull the sense and paralyse the faculties, but they more frequently sharpen both, and ere I could wink my eye, I was broad awake and aware that, coiling and coiling itself up into a circle of twists, an enormous serpent was on my breast.

When I tell you that the whole of my chest, and even the pit of my stomach, were covered with the cold, scaly proportions of the reptile, you will own that it must have been one of considerable size.

What my thoughts were--so made up of abhorrence, dread, and the expectation--nay, assurance of speedy death, that must follow any movement on my part--I can never hope to tell in language sufficiently distinct and vivid to convey their full force.

It was evident the loathsome creature had at length settled itself to sleep; and I felt thankful that, attracted by my breath, it had not approached the upper part of my throat.

It became quite still, and its weighty pressure--its first clammy chillness becoming gradually (so it seemed to me) of a burning heat--and the odious, indescribable odor which exhaled from its body and pervaded the whole air--so overwhelmed me, that it was only by a severe struggle I preserved myself from shrieking.

As it was, a cold sweat burst from every pore.

I could hear the beating of my heart--and I felt, to my increased dismay, that the palsy of terror had began to agitate my limbs!

"It will wake," thought I, "and then all is over!"

At this juncture, something--it might have been a wall-lizard, or a large beetle--fell from the ceiling upon my left arm, which lay stretched at my side.

The snake, uncoiling its head, raised itself, with a low hiss, and then, for the first time, I saw it,--saw the hood, the terrible crest glistening in the moonshine.

It was a Cobra di Capello!

Shading my eyes to exclude the dreadful spectacle, I lay almost fainting, until again all was quiet.

Had its fiery glances encountered mine, all would have been over; but, apparently, it was once more asleep, and presently I heard the Lascar moving about, undoing the fastenings of the tent, and striking a light.

A thought suddenly struck me, and, with an impulse I could then ascribe to nothing short of desperation, though its effects were so providential, I uttered, in a loud, but sepulchral tone, "Kulassi!

Lascar."

"Sahib!"

was the instantaneous response, and my heart beat quicker at the success of my attempt.

I lay still again, for the reptile, evidently roused, made a movement, and its head, as I suppose, fell on my naked arm.

Oh God!

the agony of that moment, when suppressed tremor almost gave way to madness!

I debated with myself whether I should again endeavor to attract the attention of the Kulassi, or remain perfectly quiet; or whether it would not be better than either to start up at once and shake the disgustful burden from me.

But the latter suggestion was at once abandoned, because of the assurance I felt that it would prove fatal; impeded by the heavy coils of the creature, weak and nerveless from excitement, I could not escape its fangs.

Again, therefore, I spoke with the hollow but distinct accents which arise from the throat when the speaker is afraid to move a muscle:--"Kulassi Chiragh!"

--Lascar, a lanthorn!

"Latah own Sahib."

I am bringing it, sir.

There was then a sound of clanking metal--light, advancing, flashes across the roof of the veranda--and, at the noise of coming steps, lo!

one after one its terrible coils unwinding, the grisly monster glided away from my body; and the last sounds that struck my sense of hearing were the--"Ya illahi samp!"

Oh God!

a snake!

--of the lascar; for I fainted away for the first time in my life.

[Illustration] COMBAT OF WILD ANIMALS.

We were conducted to a gallery which commanded a view of a narrow court or area beneath, inclosed by walls and palisades.

This was the arena in which the spectacle was to take place.

Unfortunately, the space allotted to spectators was so narrowed by the great number of European ladies who were present, that we could only find indifferent standing room, where, in addition to this inconvenience, the glare of the sun was very oppressively felt; but the drama which began to be acted in our sight in the deep space below, was such that every discomfort was forgotten in beholding it.

We there beheld six mighty buffaloes, not of the tame species, but the sturdy offspring of the Arni-buffalo of the hill country, at least four feet and a half high from the ground to the withers, with enormous widely-spread horns, several feet long.

There they stood, on their short, clumsy hoofs, and, snorting violently, blew out their angry breath from their protruded muzzles, as if they were already aware of the nearly approaching danger.

What terribly powerful brutes!

what vast strength in their broad and brawny necks!

It would have been a noble sight, had not their eyes the while expressed such entire stupidity.

A rattling of sticks, and the cries of several kind?

of bestial voices were heard--to which the buffaloes replied with a deep bellowing.

On a sudden, from an opened side door, there darted forth a huge tiger, certainly from ten to eleven feet in length, and four in height.

Without much hesitation, he sprang with a single long bound right amid the buffaloes; one of which, winding his body out of the reach of the formidable horns, he seized by the neck with both claws and teeth at once.

The weight of the tiger almost overthrew the buffalo.

A hideous combat now took place.

Groaning and bellowing, the buffalo dragged his powerful assailant up and down the arena; while the others, with their heavy, pointed horns, dealt the tiger fearful gashes, to liberate their fellow beast.

A deep stillness reigned among the public; all the spectators awaited with eager suspense the issue of this contest between the tiger and the buffaloes; as well as the fate of some unfortunate asses, which latter, to increase the sport, being made perforce witnesses of the sanguinary action, at first looked down upon it from their poles with inexpressible horror, and afterward, when their supports were shaken by the butting of the buffaloes, fell to the ground as if dead, and, with outstretched limbs, lay, expecting their fate with the greatest resignation--without making a single effort to save themselves.

Two other tigers, of somewhat less stature, were now, with great difficulty, driven in; while the main struggle was still going forward.

But no efforts could induce them to attempt an attack of any kind; they shrank down like cats, crouching as closely as possible to the walls of the inclosure, whenever the buffaloes, who still continued, however, to butt at their enemy with the utmost desperation, approached them.

The great tiger had, at last, received a push in the ribs, which lifted him from his seat.

He came tumbling down, and crawled like a craven into a corner; whither he was pursued by the buffalo, maddened by the pain of his lacerated neck--and there had to endure many thrusts with his horns, at each of which he only drew up his mouth with a grimace of pain, without making the smallest motion to ward off the attack.

The spectacle was by no means ended here.

Other combatants were driven in, and fought with more or less energy.

PERILOUS INCIDENT

ON A CANADIAN RIVER.

A young man and his sister have kept this ferry several years, during which they have performed many acts of heroic benevolence, and have rescued numbers of their fellow creatures from a watery grave.

One of these had so much of perilous adventure in it, that I shall make no apology for giving some account of it, the more especially as I was myself one of the trembling and anxious spectators of the whole scene.

A raft of timber, on its way down the river to the nearest port, was dashed to pieces by the violence of the rapids.

There was the usual number of men upon it, all of whom, except two, were fortunate enough to get upon a few logs, which kept together, and were comparatively safe, while their two poor comrades, were helplessly contending with the tumbling waves, almost within reach of them, but without their being able to afford them the slightest assistance.

After a minute or two, and when one more would have been their last, a long oar or sweep, belonging to the wretched raft, came floating by.

They instantly seized it, and held on till they were carried down more than a mile, loudly calling for help as they went along; but what aid could we render them?

No craft, none, at least, which were on the banks of the river, could live in such a boiling torrent as that; for it was during one of the high spring freshets.

But the ferryman was of a different opinion, and could not brook the thought of their dying before his eyes without his making a single effort to save them.

"How could I stand idly looking on," he said to me afterward, "with a tough ash oar in my hand, and a tight little craft at my feet, and hear their cries for help, and see them drowned?"

He determined, at all risks, to try to rescue them from the fate which seemed to us inevitable.

He could not, however, go alone, and there was not another man on that side of the river within half a mile of him.

His sister knew this, and, courageously, like another Grace Darling, proposed, at once, to accompany him in his perilous adventure.

From being so often on the water with her brother, she knew well how to handle an oar.

Often, indeed, without him she had paddled a passenger across the ferry in her little canoe.

He accepted her proposal, and we had the satisfaction of seeing the light punt put off from the shore opposite to that from which we were idly and uselessly looking on, and go gallantly over the surging torrent toward the sinking men.

We feared, however, that it would not be in time to save them, as their cries for help grew fainter and fainter, till each one, we thought, would have been their last.

We saw that the oar, with the drowning men clinging to it, was floating rapidly down the middle of the stream, which, in this particular locality, is more than a quarter of a mile in breadth, and would inevitably, in two or three minutes more, be in the white water among the breakers, when their fate must be sealed, and the boat, if it followed, dashed to pieces among the rocks.

This was the principal point of danger, and they had to run down within a most fearful proximity of it, to cross the course down which the drowning men were drifting, and, as they did so, to seize hold of them without losing their own headway;

for there was not time for that.

They succeeded in shooting athwart the current, rapid as it was, just below the men.

With breathless and painful anxiety we saw them execute this dangerous manoeuver.

We saw the ferryman lean over the side of his boat, for a moment, as it passed them, while his sister backed water with her oar.

"They are saved!"

some one said, close behind me, in a whisper so deep and earnest that I started, and turned to look at the speaker; when another, who heard him, exclaimed, "No, no!

they are gone!

they are lost!

the boat has left them!"

And sure enough, it had.

But, in an instant afterward, just as we thought they were about to be driven into the fatal breakers, they turned, to our inexpressible delight, as if drawn by some invisible power (the rope the ferryman had attached to the oar was, indeed, invisible to us,) and followed the boat.

The ferryman and his sister had yet to pull a fearful distance for the time they had to do it in, to get out of that part of the current leading to the breakers: and they accomplished it.

The man had the bow oar, and we could see the tough ash bend like a willow-wand as he stretched out to keep the head of the boat partially up the stream.

His sister, too, "kept her own," and the little punt shot out rapidly into the comparatively quiet stream, beyond the influence of the fearful current, which was rapidly driving them upon the breakers.

When this was accomplished, our fears for the noble-hearted brother and sister were at an end, and we took a long breath; it was, indeed, a relief to do so.

Still we continued to watch their further proceedings with the deepest interest.

The moment they got into a less rapid current, which, they knew, led into comparatively still water they ceased rowing, and allowed the punt to float down with it.

The young ferryman now drew up the sweep alongside, and succeeded in getting the two unfortunate men into his boat.

While he was doing this, his sister went aft, and used her oar as a rudder to steer the boat.

At the foot of the current, which they soon afterward reached, there was no further danger.

But we watched them still; and we saw them row ashore, on their own side of the river.

One of the poor fellows was so much exhausted, that the ferryman had to carry him on his back to the nearest house, where he soon recovered.

Twelve months after this took place, I had the satisfaction of presenting to this worthy ferryman, in the presence of above five hundred men, a beautiful silver medallion, sent out to me by the Royal Humane Society--to which I had transmitted an account of the occurrence.

Nor was the heroine of my story forgotten.

A similar medallion was given to him for his sister.

She could not, with propriety, be present herself, as it was the annual muster-day of the militia in that locality.

MEMOIRS OF A CHURCH MISSIONARY IN CANADA.

A WHALE CHASE.

Down went the boats with a splash.

Each boat's crew sprang over the rail, and in an instant the larboard, starboard, and waist-boats were manned.

There was great rivalry in getting the start.

The waist-boat got off in pretty good time; and away went all three, dashing the water high over their bows.

Nothing could be more exciting than the chase.

The larboard boat, commanded by the mate, and the waist-boat, by the second mate, were head and head.

"Give way, my lads, give way!"

shouted P----, our headsman; "we gain on them; give way!

A long, steady stroke!

That's the way to tell it!"

"Ay, ay!"

cried Tabor, our boat-steerer.

"What do you say, boys?

Shall we lick 'em?"

"Pull!

pull like vengeance!"

echoed the crew; and we danced over the waves, scarcely seeming to touch them.

The chase was now truly soul-stirring.

Sometimes the larboard, then the starboard, then the waist-boat took the lead.

It was a severe trial of skill and muscle.

After we had run two miles at this rate, the whales turned flukes, going dead to windward.

"Now for it, my lads!"

cried P----.

"We'll have them the next rising.

Now pile it on!

a long, steady pull!

That's it!

that's the way!

Those whales belong to us.

Don't give out!

Half an hour more, and they're our whales!"

The other boats veered off at either side of us, and continued the chase with renewed ardor.

In about half an hour we lay on our oars to look round for the whales.

"There she blows!

right ahead!"

shouted Tabor, fairly dancing with delight.

"There she blows--there she blows!"

"Oh, Lord, boys, spring!"

cried P----.

"Spring it is!

What d'ye say, now, chummies?

Shall we take those whales?"

To this general appeal, every man replied by putting his weight on his oar, and exerting his utmost strength.

The boat flew through the water with incredible swiftness, scarcely rising to the waves.

A large bull whale lay about a quarter of a mile ahead of us, lazily rolling in the trough of the sea.

The larboard and starboard boats were far to leeward of us, tugging hard to get a chance at the other whales, which were now blowing in every direction.

"Give way!

give way, my hearties!"

cried P----, putting his weight against the aft oar.

"Do you love gin?

A bottle of gin to the best man!

Oh, pile it on, while you have breath!

pile it on!"

"On with the beef, chummies!

Smash every oar!

double 'em up or break 'em!"

"Every devil's imp of you, pull!

No talking; lay back to it; now or never!"

On dashed the boat, cleaving its way through the rough sea, as if the briny element were blue smoke.

The whale, however, turned flukes before we could reach him.

When he appeared again above the surface of the water, it was evident that he had milled while down, by which manoeuver he gained on us nearly a mile.

The chase was now almost hopeless, as he was making to windward rapidly.

A heavy black cloud was on the horizon, portending an approaching squall, and the barque was fast fading from sight.

Still we were not to be baffled by discouraging circumstances of this kind, and we braced our sinews for a grand and final effort.

"Never give up, my lads," said the headsman, in a cheering voice.

"Mark my words, we'll have the whale yet.

Only think he's ours, and there's no mistake about it, he will be ours.

Now for a hard, steady pull!

Give way!"

"Give way, sir!

Give way all!"

"There she blows!

Oh, pull, my lively lads!

Only a mile off!"

"There she blows!"

The wind had by this time increased almost to a gale, and the heavy, black clouds were scattering over us far and wide.

Part of the squall had passed off to leeward, and entirely concealed the barque.

Our situation was rather unpleasant: in a rough sea, the other boats out of sight, and each moment the wind increasing.

We continued to strain every muscle till we were hard upon the whale.

Tabor sprang to the bow, and stood by with the harpoon.

"Softly, softly, my lads," said the headsman.

"Ay, ay sir!"

"Hush-h-h!

softly!

Now's your time, Tabor!"

Tabor let fly the harpoon, and buried the iron.

"Give him another!"

"Stern all!"

thundered P----.

"Stern all!"

And, as we rapidly backed from the whale, he flung his tremendous fluke high in the air, covering us with a cloud of spray.

He then sounded, making the line whiz as it passed through the chocks.

When he rose to the surface again, we hauled up, and the second mate stood ready in the bow to dispatch him with lances.

"Spouting blood!"

said Tabor, "he's a dead whale!

he won't need much lancing."

It was true enough; for, before the officer could get within dart of him, he commenced his dying struggles.

The sea was crimsoned with his blood.

By the time we had reached him, he was belly up.

We lay upon our oars a moment, to witness his last throes, and when he turned his head toward the sun, a loud, simultaneous cheer, burst from every lip.