THE coracle—as I had ample reason to
know before I was done with her—was
a very safe boat for a person of my
height and weight, both buoyant and
clever in a seaway; but she was the
most cross-grained, lop-sided craft
to manage. Do as you pleased, she
always made more leeway than
anything else, and turning round and
round was the manoeuvre she was best
at. Even Ben Gunn himself has
admitted that she was "queer to
handle till you knew her way." Certainly I did not know her way.
She turned in every direction but
the one I was bound to go; the most
part of the time we were broadside
on, and I am very sure I never
should have made the ship at all but
for the tide. By good fortune,
paddle as I pleased, the tide was
still sweeping me down; and there
lay the HISPANIOLA right in the
fairway, hardly to be missed. First she loomed before me like a
blot of something yet blacker than
darkness, then her spars and hull
began to take shape, and the next
moment, as it seemed (for, the
farther I went, the brisker grew the
current of the ebb), I was alongside
of her hawser and had laid hold. The hawser was as taut as a
bowstring, and the current so strong
she pulled upon her anchor. All
round the hull, in the blackness,
the rippling current bubbled and
chattered like a little mountain
stream. One cut with my sea-gully
and the HISPANIOLA would go humming
down the tide. So far so good, but it next occurred
to my recollection that a taut
hawser, suddenly cut, is a thing as
dangerous as a kicking horse. Ten to
one, if I were so foolhardy as to
cut the HISPANIOLA from her anchor,
I and the coracle would be knocked
clean out of the water. This brought me to a full stop, and
if fortune had not again
particularly favoured me, I should
have had to abandon my design. But
the light airs which had begun
blowing from the south-east and
south had hauled round after
nightfall into the south-west. Just
while I was meditating, a puff came,
caught the HISPANIOLA, and forced
her up into the current; and to my
great joy, I felt the hawser slacken
in my grasp, and the hand by which I
held it dip for a second under
water. With that I made my mind up, took
out my gully, opened it with my
teeth, and cut one strand after
another, till the vessel swung only
by two. Then I lay quiet, waiting to
sever these last when the strain
should be once more lightened by a
breath of wind. All this time I had heard the sound
of loud voices from the cabin, but
to say truth, my mind had been so
entirely taken up with other
thoughts that I had scarcely given
ear. Now, however, when I had
nothing else to do, I began to pay
more heed. One I recognized for the coxswain's,
Israel Hands, that had been Flint's
gunner in former days. The other
was, of course, my friend of the red
night-cap. Both men were plainly the
worse of drink, and they were still
drinking, for even while I was
listening, one of them, with a
drunken cry, opened the stern window
and threw out something, which I
divined to be an empty bottle. But
they were not only tipsy; it was
plain that they were furiously
angry. Oaths flew like hailstones,
and every now and then there came
forth such an explosion as I thought
was sure to end in blows. But each
time the quarrel passed off and the
voices grumbled lower for a while,
until the next crisis came and in
its turn passed away without result.
On shore, I could see the glow of
the great camp-fire burning warmly
through the shore-side trees.
Someone was singing, a dull, old,
droning sailor's song, with a droop
and a quaver at the end of every
verse, and seemingly no end to it at
all but the patience of the singer.
I had heard it on the voyage more
than once and remembered these
words: "But one man of her crew alive,
What put to sea with seventy-five." And I thought it was a ditty rather
too dolefully appropriate for a
company that had met such cruel
losses in the morning. But, indeed,
from what I saw, all these
buccaneers were as callous as the
sea they sailed on. At last the breeze came; the
schooner sidled and drew nearer in
the dark; I felt the hawser slacken
once more, and with a good, tough
effort, cut the last fibres through.
The breeze had but little action on
the coracle, and I was almost
instantly swept against the bows of
the HISPANIOLA. At the same time,
the schooner began to turn upon her
heel, spinning slowly, end for end,
across the current. I wrought like a fiend, for I
expected every moment to be swamped;
and since I found I could not push
the coracle directly off, I now
shoved straight astern. At length I
was clear of my dangerous neighbour,
and just as I gave the last
impulsion, my hands came across a
light cord that was trailing
overboard across the stern bulwarks.
Instantly I grasped it. Why I should have done so I can
hardly say. It was at first mere
instinct, but once I had it in my
hands and found it fast, curiosity
began to get the upper hand, and I
determined I should have one look
through the cabin window. I pulled in hand over hand on the
cord, and when I judged myself near
enough, rose at infinite risk to
about half my height and thus
commanded the roof and a slice of
the interior of the cabin. By this time the schooner and her
little consort were gliding pretty
swiftly through the water; indeed,
we had already fetched up level with
the camp-fire. The ship was talking,
as sailors say, loudly, treading the
innumerable ripples with an
incessant weltering splash; and
until I got my eye above the
window-sill I could not comprehend
why the watchmen had taken no alarm.
One glance, however, was sufficient;
and it was only one glance that I
durst take from that unsteady skiff.
It showed me Hands and his companion
locked together in deadly wrestle,
each with a hand upon the other's
throat. I dropped upon the thwart again,
none too soon, for I was near
overboard. I could see nothing for
the moment but these two furious,
encrimsoned faces swaying together
under the smoky lamp, and I shut my
eyes to let them grow once more
familiar with the darkness. The endless ballad had come to an
end at last, and the whole
diminished company about the
camp-fire had broken into the chorus
I had heard so often: "Fifteen men on the dead man's
chest—
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the devil had done for the
rest—
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!" I was just thinking how busy drink
and the devil were at that very
moment in the cabin of the
HISPANIOLA, when I was surprised by
a sudden lurch of the coracle. At
the same moment, she yawed sharply
and seemed to change her course. The
speed in the meantime had strangely
increased. I opened my eyes at once. All round
me were little ripples, combing over
with a sharp, bristling sound and
slightly phosphorescent. The
HISPANIOLA herself, a few yards in
whose wake I was still being whirled
along, seemed to stagger in her
course, and I saw her spars toss a
little against the blackness of the
night; nay, as I looked longer, I
made sure she also was wheeling to
the southward. I glanced over my shoulder, and my
heart jumped against my ribs. There,
right behind me, was the glow of the
camp-fire. The current had turned at
right angles, sweeping round along
with it the tall schooner and the
little dancing coracle; ever
quickening, ever bubbling higher,
ever muttering louder, it went
spinning through the narrows for the
open sea. Suddenly the schooner in front of me
gave a violent yaw, turning,
perhaps, through twenty degrees; and
almost at the same moment one shout
followed another from on board; I
could hear feet pounding on the
companion ladder and I knew that the
two drunkards had at last been
interrupted in their quarrel and
awakened to a sense of their
disaster. I lay down flat in the bottom of
that wretched skiff and devoutly
recommended my spirit to its Maker.
At the end of the straits, I made
sure we must fall into some bar of
raging breakers, where all my
troubles would be ended speedily;
and though I could, perhaps, bear to
die, I could not bear to look upon
my fate as it approached. So I must have lain for hours,
continually beaten to and fro upon
the billows, now and again wetted
with flying sprays, and never
ceasing to expect death at the next
plunge. Gradually weariness grew
upon me; a numbness, an occasional
stupor, fell upon my mind even in
the midst of my terrors, until sleep
at last supervened and in my
sea-tossed coracle I lay and dreamed
of home and the old Admiral Benbow. |
