OWING to the cant of the vessel, the
masts hung far out over the water,
and from my perch on the cross-trees
I had nothing below me but the
surface of the bay. Hands, who was
not so far up, was in consequence
nearer to the ship and fell between
me and the bulwarks. He rose once to
the surface in a lather of foam and
blood and then sank again for good.
As the water settled, I could see
him lying huddled together on the
clean, bright sand in the shadow of
the vessel's sides. A fish or two
whipped past his body. Sometimes, by
the quivering of the water, he
appeared to move a little, as if he
were trying to rise. But he was dead
enough, for all that, being both
shot and drowned, and was food for
fish in the very place where he had
designed my slaughter.
I was no sooner certain of this than
I began to feel sick, faint, and
terrified. The hot blood was running
over my back and chest. The dirk,
where it had pinned my shoulder to
the mast, seemed to burn like a hot
iron; yet it was not so much these
real sufferings that distressed me,
for these, it seemed to me, I could
bear without a murmur; it was the
horror I had upon my mind of falling
from the cross-trees into that still
green water, beside the body of the
coxswain.
I clung with both hands till my
nails ached, and I shut my eyes as
if to cover up the peril. Gradually
my mind came back again, my pulses
quieted down to a more natural time,
and I was once more in possession of
myself.
It was my first thought to pluck
forth the dirk, but either it stuck
too hard or my nerve failed me, and
I desisted with a violent shudder.
Oddly enough, that very shudder did
the business. The knife, in fact,
had come the nearest in the world to
missing me altogether; it held me by
a mere pinch of skin, and this the
shudder tore away. The blood ran
down the faster, to be sure, but I
was my own master again and only
tacked to the mast by my coat and
shirt.
These last I broke through with a
sudden jerk, and then regained the
deck by the starboard shrouds. For
nothing in the world would I have
again ventured, shaken as I was,
upon the overhanging port shrouds
from which Israel had so lately
fallen.
I went below and did what I could
for my wound; it pained me a good
deal and still bled freely, but it
was neither deep nor dangerous, nor
did it greatly gall me when I used
my arm. Then I looked around me, and
as the ship was now, in a sense, my
own, I began to think of clearing it
from its last passenger—the dead
man, O'Brien.
He had pitched, as I have said,
against the bulwarks, where he lay
like some horrible, ungainly sort of
puppet, life-size, indeed, but how
different from life's colour or
life's comeliness! In that position
I could easily have my way with him,
and as the habit of tragical
adventures had worn off almost all
my terror for the dead, I took him
by the waist as if he had been a
sack of bran and with one good
heave, tumbled him overboard. He
went in with a sounding plunge; the
red cap came off and remained
floating on the surface; and as soon
as the splash subsided, I could see
him and Israel lying side by side,
both wavering with the tremulous
movement of the water. O'Brien,
though still quite a young man, was
very bald. There he lay, with that
bald head across the knees of the
man who had killed him and the quick
fishes steering to and fro over
both.
I was now alone upon the ship; the
tide had just turned. The sun was
within so few degrees of setting
that already the shadow of the pines
upon the western shore began to
reach right across the anchorage and
fall in patterns on the deck. The
evening breeze had sprung up, and
though it was well warded off by the
hill with the two peaks upon the
east, the cordage had begun to sing
a little softly to itself and the
idle sails to rattle to and fro.
I began to see a danger to the ship.
The jibs I speedily doused and
brought tumbling to the deck, but
the main-sail was a harder matter.
Of course, when the schooner canted
over, the boom had swung out-board,
and the cap of it and a foot or two
of sail hung even under water. I
thought this made it still more
dangerous; yet the strain was so
heavy that I half feared to meddle.
At last I got my knife and cut the
halyards. The peak dropped
instantly, a great belly of loose
canvas floated broad upon the water,
and since, pull as I liked, I could
not budge the downhall, that was the
extent of what I could accomplish.
For the rest, the HISPANIOLA must
trust to luck, like myself.
By this time the whole anchorage had
fallen into shadow—the last rays, I
remember, falling through a glade of
the wood and shining bright as
jewels on the flowery mantle of the
wreck. It began to be chill; the
tide was rapidly fleeting seaward,
the schooner settling more and more
on her beam-ends.
I scrambled forward and looked over.
It seemed shallow enough, and
holding the cut hawser in both hands
for a last security, I let myself
drop softly overboard. The water
scarcely reached my waist; the sand
was firm and covered with ripple
marks, and I waded ashore in great
spirits, leaving the HISPANIOLA on
her side, with her main-sail
trailing wide upon the surface of
the bay. About the same time, the
sun went fairly down and the breeze
whistled low in the dusk among the
tossing pines.
At least, and at last, I was off the
sea, nor had I returned thence
empty-handed. There lay the
schooner, clear at last from
buccaneers and ready for our own men
to board and get to sea again. I had
nothing nearer my fancy than to get
home to the stockade and boast of my
achievements. Possibly I might be
blamed a bit for my truantry, but
the recapture of the HISPANIOLA was
a clenching answer, and I hoped that
even Captain Smollett would confess
I had not lost my time.
So thinking, and in famous spirits,
I began to set my face homeward for
the block house and my companions. I
remembered that the most easterly of
the rivers which drain into Captain
Kidd's anchorage ran from the
two-peaked hill upon my left, and I
bent my course in that direction
that I might pass the stream while
it was small. The wood was pretty
open, and keeping along the lower
spurs, I had soon turned the corner
of that hill, and not long after
waded to the mid-calf across the
watercourse.
This brought me near to where I had
encountered Ben Gunn, the maroon;
and I walked more circumspectly,
keeping an eye on every side. The
dusk had come nigh hand completely,
and as I opened out the cleft
between the two peaks, I became
aware of a wavering glow against the
sky, where, as I judged, the man of
the island was cooking his supper
before a roaring fire. And yet I
wondered, in my heart, that he
should show himself so careless. For
if I could see this radiance, might
it not reach the eyes of Silver
himself where he camped upon the
shore among the marshes?
Gradually the night fell blacker; it
was all I could do to guide myself
even roughly towards my destination;
the double hill behind me and the
Spy-glass on my right hand loomed
faint and fainter; the stars were
few and pale; and in the low ground
where I wandered I kept tripping
among bushes and rolling into sandy
pits.
Suddenly a kind of brightness fell
about me. I looked up; a pale
glimmer of moonbeams had alighted on
the summit of the Spy-glass, and
soon after I saw something broad and
silvery moving low down behind the
trees, and knew the moon had risen.
With this to help me, I passed
rapidly over what remained to me of
my journey, and sometimes walking,
sometimes running, impatiently drew
near to the stockade. Yet, as I
began to thread the grove that lies
before it, I was not so thoughtless
but that I slacked my pace and went
a trifle warily. It would have been
a poor end of my adventures to get
shot down by my own party in
mistake.
The moon was climbing higher and
higher, its light began to fall here
and there in masses through the more
open districts of the wood, and
right in front of me a glow of a
different colour appeared among the
trees. It was red and hot, and now
and again it was a little
darkened—as it were, the embers of a
bonfire smouldering.
For the life of me I could not think
what it might be.
At last I came right down upon the
borders of the clearing. The western
end was already steeped in
moonshine; the rest, and the block
house itself, still lay in a black
shadow chequered with long silvery
streaks of light. On the other side
of the house an immense fire had
burned itself into clear embers and
shed a steady, red reverberation,
contrasted strongly with the mellow
paleness of the moon. There was not
a soul stirring nor a sound beside
the noises of the breeze.
I stopped, with much wonder in my
heart, and perhaps a little terror
also. It had not been our way to
build great fires; we were, indeed,
by the captain's orders, somewhat
niggardly of firewood, and I began
to fear that something had gone
wrong while I was absent.
I stole round by the eastern end,
keeping close in shadow, and at a
convenient place, where the darkness
was thickest, crossed the palisade.
To make assurance surer, I got upon
my hands and knees and crawled,
without a sound, towards the corner
of the house. As I drew nearer, my
heart was suddenly and greatly
lightened. It is not a pleasant
noise in itself, and I have often
complained of it at other times, but
just then it was like music to hear
my friends snoring together so loud
and peaceful in their sleep. The
sea-cry of the watch, that beautiful
"All's well," never fell more
reassuringly on my ear.
In the meantime, there was no doubt
of one thing; they kept an infamous
bad watch. If it had been Silver and
his lads that were now creeping in
on them, not a soul would have seen
daybreak. That was what it was,
thought I, to have the captain
wounded; and again I blamed myself
sharply for leaving them in that
danger with so few to mount guard.
By this time I had got to the door
and stood up. All was dark within,
so that I could distinguish nothing
by the eye. As for sounds, there was
the steady drone of the snorers and
a small occasional noise, a
flickering or pecking that I could
in no way account for.
With my arms before me I walked
steadily in. I should lie down in my
own place (I thought with a silent
chuckle) and enjoy their faces when
they found me in the morning.
My foot struck something yielding—it
was a sleeper's leg; and he turned
and groaned, but without awaking.
And then, all of a sudden, a shrill
voice broke forth out of the
darkness:
"Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!
Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!
Pieces of eight!" and so forth,
without pause or change, like the
clacking of a tiny mill.
Silver's green parrot, Captain
Flint! It was she whom I had heard
pecking at a piece of bark; it was
she, keeping better watch than any
human being, who thus announced my
arrival with her wearisome refrain.
I had no time left me to recover. At
the sharp, clipping tone of the
parrot, the sleepers awoke and
sprang up; and with a mighty oath,
the voice of Silver cried, "Who
goes?"
I turned to run, struck violently
against one person, recoiled, and
ran full into the arms of a second,
who for his part closed upon and
held me tight.
"Bring a torch, Dick," said Silver
when my capture was thus assured.
And one of the men left the
log-house and presently returned
with a lighted brand. |
