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12 - Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson · Classic Adventure Books Collection

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Chapter twenty three. The Ebb Tide runs the Coracle, as I had ample
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reason to know before I was done with her, was a very safe boat
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for a person in my height and weight, both buoyant and clever in a
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seaway. But she was the most cross grained, lop sided craft to manage.
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Do as you pleased. She always made more leeway than anything else,
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and turning round and round was the maneuver she was best at. Even ben
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Gunn himself has admitted that she was queer to handle till you knew her way.
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Certainly I did not know her way. She turned in every direction but
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the one I was bound to go. The most part of the time we
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were broadside on, and I am very sure I never should have made the
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ship at all, but for the tide. By good fortune paddlers, I
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pleased. The tide was still sweeping me down, and there lay the Hispaniola
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right in the fairway, hardly to be missed. First she loomed before me
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like a blot of something yecked blacker than darkness. Then her spars and hull
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began to shake shape, and the next moment, as it seemed for the
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further I went the brisker grew the current of the ebb. I was alongside
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of her hawser and had laid hold. The hawser was as taut as a
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bowstring, and the current so strong she pulled upon her anchor all round the
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hull. In the blackness. The rippling current bubbled and chattered like a little
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mountain stream. One cut with my sea gully, and the Hispaniola would go
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humming down the tide. So far, so good. But it next occurred
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to my recollection that a tight hawser suddenly cut is a thing as dangerous as
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a kicking horse ten to one. If I was so foolhardy as to cut
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the Hispaniola from her anchor, I and the coracle would be knocked clean out
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of the water. This brought me to a full stop, and if fortune
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had not again particularly favored me, I should have had to abandon my design.
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But the light airs, which had begun blowing from the southeast and south,
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had hauled round after nightfall into the southwest. Just while I was meditating,
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a puff came caught the Hispaniola and forced her up into the current,
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And to my great joy, I felt the haws a slacken in my grasp
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and the hand by which I held it dip for a second underwater. With
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that I made my mind up, took out my gully, opened it with
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my teeth, and cut one strand after another, till the vessel swung only
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by two. Then I lay quiet, waiting to sever these last when the
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strain should be once more lightened by a breath of wind. At this time
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I had heard the sound of loud voices from the cabin. But to say
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the truth, my mind had been so entirely taken up with other thoughts that
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I had scarcely given ear Now, however, when I had nothing else to
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do, I began to pay more heed. One I recognized, for the
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coxswains Israel hands that had been Flint's gunner in former days. The other was,
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of course, my friend of the red nightcap. Both men were plainly
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the worst of drink, and they were still drinking for even while I was
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listening. One of them, with a drunken cry, opened the stern window
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and threw out something which I divined to be an empty bottle. But they
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were not only tipsy, it was plain that they were furiously angry. Oaths
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flew like hailstones, and every now and then there came forth such an explosion,
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as I thought, was sure to end in blows. But each time
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the quarrel passed off, and the voices grumbled lower for a while, until
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the next crisis came and in its turn passed away without result. On shore,
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I could see the glow of the great campfire burning warmly through the shore
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side trees. Someone was singing a dull, old droning sailor's song, with
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a droop and a quaver at the end of each verse, and seemingly no
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end to it all but the patience of the singer. I had heard it
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on the voyage more than once and remembered these words. But one man of
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the crew were live what put to shee whiz seventy five? And I thought
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it was a ditty, rather too dolefully appropriate for a company that had met
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such cruel losses in the morning. But indeed, from what I saw,
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all these buccaneers were as callous as the sea they sailed on. At last,
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the breeze came, the schooner sidled and drew nearer in the dark.
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I felt the hars aslacken once more, and with a good tough effort cut
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the last fibers through the breeze had but little action on the coracle, and
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I was almost instantly swept against the boughs of this spaniola. At the same
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time, the schooner began to turn upon her heel, spinning slowly end for
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end across the current. I wrought like a fiend, for I expected every
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moment to be swamped. And since I found I could not push the coracle
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directly off, I now shoved straight astern at length. I was clear of
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my dangerous neighbor, and just as I gave the last impulsion, my hands
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came across a light cord that was trailing overboard across the stern bulwarks. Instantly
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I grasped it. Why I should have done so, I can hardly say
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it was at first mere instinct, But once I had it in my hand
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and found it fast, curiosity began to get the upper hand, and I
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determined I should have one look through the cabin window. I pulled in hand
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over hand on the cord, and when I judged myself near enough, rose
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at infinite risk to about half my height, and thus commanded the roof and
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a slice of the interior of the cabin by this time, the schooner and
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her little consort were gliding pretty swiftly through the water. Indeed, we had
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already fetched up level with the camp fire. The ship was talking, as
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sailors say, loudly, treading the immeasurable ripples with an incessant, weltering splash.
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And until I got my eye above the window, still I could not
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comprehend why the watchman had taken no alarm. One glance, however, was
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sufficient, and it was only one glance that I durst take from that unsteady
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skiff. It showed me hands and his companion locked together in deadly wrestle,
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each with a hand on the other's throat. I dropped upon the thwart again,
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none too soon, for I was near overboard. I could see nothing
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for the moment but these two furious and crimsoned faces swaying together under the smoky
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lamp, and I shut my eyes to let them grow once more familiar with
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the darkness. The endless ballad had come to an end at last, and
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the whole diminished company about the camp fire had broken into the chorus I had
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heard so often, fifty men on the dead man's chest, YOOO, and
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a bottle of rum drink and a devil love and further rest yom. I
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was just thinking how busy drink and the devil were at that very moment in
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the cabin of Hispaniola, when I I was surprised by a sudden lurch of
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the coracle. At the same moment she yawed sharply and seemed to change her
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course. The speed in the meantime had strangely increased. I opened my eyes
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at once. All around me were little ripples combing over with a sharp bristling
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sound and slightly phosphorescent. The Hispaniola herself, a few yards in whose wake
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I was still being whirled along, seemed to stagger in her course, and
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I saw her spars toss a little against the blackness of the night. Nay,
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As I looked longer, I made sure she also was wheeling to the
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southward. I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart jumped against my ribs.
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There right behind me was the glow of the camp fire. The current
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had turned at right angles, sweeping round along with it the tall schooner and
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the little dancing coracle. Ever quickening, ever bubbling high, ever muttering louder.
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It went spinning through the narrows for the open sea. Suddenly the schooner
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in front of me gave a violent yaw, turning perhaps through twenty degrees,
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and almost at the same moment, one shout followed another from on board.
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I could hear feet pounding on the companion ladder, and I knew that the
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two drunkards had at last been interrupted in their quarrel and awakened to a sense
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of their disaster. I laid down flat in the bottom of that wretched skiff
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and devoutly recommended my spirit to its maker. At the end of the straits,
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I had made sure we must fall into some bar of raging breakers,
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where all of my troubles would be ended speedily. And though I could perhaps
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bear to die, I could not bear to look upon my fate as it
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approached. So I must have lain for hours, continually beaten to and fro
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upon the billows, now and again, wetted with flying sprays, and never
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ceasing to expect death of the next plunge. Gradually, weariness grew upon me,
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A numbness, an occasional stupor fell upon my mind even in the midst
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of my terrors, until sleep at last intervened, and in my sea tossed
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coracle. I lay and dreamed of home and the old Admiral Benbo end of
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Chapter twenty three, Chapter twenty four, The Crews of the Coracle. It
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was broad day when I awoke and found myself tossing at the southwest end of
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Treasure Island. The sun was up, but was still hid from me behind
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the great bulk of the spyglass, which on this side descended almost to the
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sea. In formidable cliffs. Hall Bowline Head and Mizzenmass Hill were at my
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elbow, the hill bare and dark, the head bound with cliffs forty or
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fifty feet high and fringed with great masses of fallen rock. I was scarcely
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a quarter of a mile to seaward, and it was my first thought to
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paddle in and land. That notion was soon given over among the fallen rocks.
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The breakers spouted and bellowed, loud reverberations, heavy sprays, flying and
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falling succeeded one another from second to second, and I saw myself if I
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ventured nearer dashed to death upon the rough shore, or spending my strength in
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vain to scale the beetling crags, nor was that all four crawling together on
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flat tables of rock, or letting themselves drop into the sea with loud reports.
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I beheld huge, slimy monsters, soft snails, as it were,
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of incredible bigness, two or three score of them together, making the rocks
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to echo their barkings. I have understood since that they were sea lions and
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entirely harmless. But the look of them added to the difficulty of the shore
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and the high running of the surf, and was more than enough to disgust
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me of that landing place. I felt willing rather to starve at sea than
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to confront such perils. In the meantime, I had a better chance stair,
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as I supposed before me. North of hall Bowling Head, the land
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runs in a long way, leaving at low tide a long stretch of yellow
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sand. To the north of that again there comes another cape, cape of
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the woods, as it was marked upon the chart, buried in tall green
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pines, which descended to the margin of the sea. I remembered what Silver
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had said about the current that sets northward along the whole west coast of Treasure
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Island, And seeing from my position that I was already under its influence.
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I prefer to leave hall bowling Head behind me and reserve my strength for an
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attempt to land upon the kindlier looking cape of the woods. There was a
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great smooth swell upon the sea, the wind blowing steadily and gentle from the
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south. There was no contrarity between that and the current, and the billows
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rose and fell unbroken. Had it been otherwise, I must long ago have
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perished. But as it was, it is surprising how easily and securely my
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little and light boat could ride. Often, as I lay still at the
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bottom and kept no more than an eye above the gunwale, I would see
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a big blue summit heaving close above me. Yet the coracle would but bounce
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a little dance, as if on springs, and subside on the other side
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into the trough as lightly as a bird. I began, after a little
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to grow very bold, and sat up to try my skill at paddling.
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But even a small chairge in the disposition of the weight will produce violent changes
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in the behavior of a coracle, and I had hardly moved before the boat
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giving up at once her gentle dancing movement ran straight down a slope of water
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so steep that it made me giddy, and struck her nose with a spout
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of spray deep into the side of the next wave. I was drenched and
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terrified, and fell instantly back into my old position, whereupon the Coracle seemed
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to find her head again and led me softly as before among the billows.
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It was plain she was not to be interfered with, and at any rate,
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since I could in no way influence her course, what hope had I
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of reaching land? I began to be horribly frightened, but I kept my
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head for all that first, moving with all care, I gradually baled out
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the coracle with my sea cap. Then, getting my eye once more above
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the gunwale, I set myself to study how it was she managed to slip
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so quietly through the rollers. I found each wave, instead of the big,
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smooth, glossy mountain it looks from the shore or from a vessel's deck,
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was for all the world like any range of hills on the dry land,
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full of peaks and smooth places and valleys. The Coracle left to herself,
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turning from side to side, threaded so to speak, her way through
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these lower parts, and avoided the steep slopes and higher toppling summits of the
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wave. Well, now, thought I to myself. It is plain I
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must lie where I am and not disturb the balance. But it is plain
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also that I can put the paddle over the side, and from time to
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time, in smooth paces, give her a shove or two towards land.
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No sooner thought upon than done. There I lay on my elbow in the
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most trying attitude, and every now and again gave a weak stroke or two
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to turn her head to shore. It was very tiring and slow work.
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Yet I did visibly gain ground, And as we drew near the cape of
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the woods, though I saw I must infallibly miss that point, I had
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still made some hundred yards of easting. I was indeed close in. I
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could see the cool green tree tops swaying together in the breeze, and I
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felt sure I should make the next promontory without fail. It was high time
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for I now began to be tortured with thirst. The glow of the sun
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from above, its thousandfold reflection from the waves, The sea water that fell
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and dried upon me, caking my very lips with salt, combined to make
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my throat burn, and my brain ache. The sight of the trees so
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near at hand had almost made me sick with longing. But the current had
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soon carried me past the point, and as the next reach of sea opened
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out, I beheld a sight that changed the nature of my thoughts. Right
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in front of me, not half a mile away, I beheld the Hispaniola
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under sail. I made sure, of course, that I should be taken,
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but I was so distressed for want of water that I scarcely knew whether
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to be glad or sorry at the thought. And long before I had come
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to the conclusion, surprise had taken possession of my mind, and I could
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do nothing but stare and wonder. The Hispaniola was under her mainsail and two
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jibs, and the beautiful white canvas shone in the sun like snow or silver.
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When I first sighted her, all her sails were drawing. She was
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laying a course about northwest, and I presumed the men on board were going
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round the island on their way back to the anchorage. Presently, she began
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to fetch more and more to the westward, so that I thought they had
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sighted me and were going about in chase. At last, however, she
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fell right into the wind's eye, was taken dead aback and stood there awhile,
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helpless, with her sails shivering. Clumsy Fellows said I they must be
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still drunk as owls, and I thought how Captain Smollett would have set them
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skipping. Meanwhile, the schooner gradually fell off and filled again upon another tack,
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sailed swiftly for a minute or so, and brought up once more dead
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in the wind's eye. Again and again this was repeated to and fro up
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and down, north, southeast and west. The Hispaniola sailed by swoops and
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dashes, and at each repetition ended as she had begun, with widely flapping
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canvas. It became plain to me that nobody was steering, and if so,
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where were the men. Either they were dead, drunk, or had
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deserted her, I thought, and perhaps if I could get on board,
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I might return the vessel to her captain. The current was bearing coracle and
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schooner southward at an equal rate. As for the latter's sailing, it was
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so wild and intermittent, and she hung each time so long in irons that
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she certainly gained nothing, if she did not even lose. If I only
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dared to sit up and paddle. I made sure that I could overhaul her.
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The scheme had an air of adventure that inspired me, and the thought
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of the water breaker beside the foe companion doubled my growing courage. Up I
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got was welcomed almost instantly by another cloud of spray, But this time stuck
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to my purpose and set myself with all my strength and caution to paddle after
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the unsteered hispaniola. Once I shipped to sea so heavy that I had to
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stop and bale, with my heart fluttering like a bird. But gradually I
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got into the way of the thing and guided my coracle among the waves with
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only now and then a blow upon her bows and a dash of foam in
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my face. I was now gaining rapidly on the schooner. I could see
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the brass glisten on the tiller as it banged about, and still no soul
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appeared upon her decks. I could not choose, but suppose she was deserted.
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If not, the men were lying drunk below, where I might batten
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them down, perhaps and do what I chose with the ship. For some
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time she had been doing the worst thing possible for me, standing still she
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headed nearly due south, yawing, of course all the time. Each time
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she fell off, her sails partly filled, and these brought her in a
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moment right to the wind again. I have said this was the worst thing
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possible for me. For helpless as she looked in this situation, with the
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camp of us crackling like cannon, and the blocks trundling and banging on the
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deck, she still continued to run away from me, not only with the
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speed of the current, but by the whole amount of her leeway, which
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was naturally great. But now at last I had my chance. The breeze
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fell for some seconds very low, and the current gradually turning her. The
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hispaniola revolved slowly around her center and at last presented me her stern, with
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the cabin windows still gaping open, and the lamp over the table still burning
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on into the day. The mainsail hung drooped like a banner. She was
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stock still but for the current. For the last little while I had even
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lost. But now redoubling my efforts, I began once more to overhaul the
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chase. I was not a hundred yards from her when the wind came again
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in a clap. She filled on the port tack, and was off again,
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stooping and skimming like a swallow. My first impulse was one of despair,
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but my second was towards joy. Round she came till she was broadside
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on to me, round still, till she had covered a half, and
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then two thirds, and then three quarters of the distance that separated us.
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I could see the waves boiling white under her fore foot. Immensely tall,
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she looked to me from my low station in the coracle, and then of
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a sudden I began to comprehend. I had scarce time to think, scarce
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time to act and save myself. I was on the summit of one swell
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when the schooner came swooping over the next. The bowsprit was over my head.
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I sprang on my feet and leapt, stamping the coracle under water with
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one hand. I caught the jibboom while my foot was lodged between the stay
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and the brace. And as I still clung there, panting, a dull
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blow told me that the schooner had charged down upon and struck the coracle,
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and that I was left without retreat on the Hispaniola. End of Chapter twenty four