Latest / Classic Adventure Books Library / 12 - Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson
Transcript
- Chapter twenty three. The Ebb Tide runs the Coracle, as I had ample reason to know before I was done with her, was a very safe boat for a person in 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 maneuver 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 paddlers, 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 yecked blacker than darkness. Then her spars and hull began to shake shape, and the next moment, as it seemed for the further 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 tight hawser suddenly cut is a thing as dangerous as a kicking horse ten to one. If I was 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 favored me, I should have had to abandon my design. But the light airs, which had begun blowing from the southeast and south, had hauled round after nightfall into the southwest. 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 haws a slacken in my grasp and the hand by which I held it dip for a second underwater. 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. At this time I had heard the sound of loud voices from the cabin. But to say the 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 coxswains Israel hands that had been Flint's gunner in former days. The other was, of course, my friend of the red nightcap. Both men were plainly the worst 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 campfire 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 each verse, and seemingly no end to it 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 the crew were live what put to shee whiz 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 hars aslacken once more, and with a good tough effort cut the last fibers through the breeze had but little action on the coracle, and I was almost instantly swept against the boughs of this spaniola. 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 neighbor, 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 hand 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 immeasurable ripples with an incessant, weltering splash. And until I got my eye above the window, still I could not comprehend why the watchman 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 on 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 and crimsoned 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, fifty men on the dead man's chest, YOOO, and a bottle of rum drink and a devil love and further rest yom. I was just thinking how busy drink and the devil were at that very moment in the cabin of Hispaniola, when I 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 around 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 high, 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 laid down flat in the bottom of that wretched skiff and devoutly recommended my spirit to its maker. At the end of the straits, I had made sure we must fall into some bar of raging breakers, where all of 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 of 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 intervened, and in my sea tossed coracle. I lay and dreamed of home and the old Admiral Benbo end of Chapter twenty three, Chapter twenty four, The Crews of the Coracle. It was broad day when I awoke and found myself tossing at the southwest end of Treasure Island. The sun was up, but was still hid from me behind the great bulk of the spyglass, which on this side descended almost to the sea. In formidable cliffs. Hall Bowline Head and Mizzenmass Hill were at my elbow, the hill bare and dark, the head bound with cliffs forty or fifty feet high and fringed with great masses of fallen rock. I was scarcely a quarter of a mile to seaward, and it was my first thought to paddle in and land. That notion was soon given over among the fallen rocks. The breakers spouted and bellowed, loud reverberations, heavy sprays, flying and falling succeeded one another from second to second, and I saw myself if I ventured nearer dashed to death upon the rough shore, or spending my strength in vain to scale the beetling crags, nor was that all four crawling together on flat tables of rock, or letting themselves drop into the sea with loud reports. I beheld huge, slimy monsters, soft snails, as it were, of incredible bigness, two or three score of them together, making the rocks to echo their barkings. I have understood since that they were sea lions and entirely harmless. But the look of them added to the difficulty of the shore and the high running of the surf, and was more than enough to disgust me of that landing place. I felt willing rather to starve at sea than to confront such perils. In the meantime, I had a better chance stair, as I supposed before me. North of hall Bowling Head, the land runs in a long way, leaving at low tide a long stretch of yellow sand. To the north of that again there comes another cape, cape of the woods, as it was marked upon the chart, buried in tall green pines, which descended to the margin of the sea. I remembered what Silver had said about the current that sets northward along the whole west coast of Treasure Island, And seeing from my position that I was already under its influence. I prefer to leave hall bowling Head behind me and reserve my strength for an attempt to land upon the kindlier looking cape of the woods. There was a great smooth swell upon the sea, the wind blowing steadily and gentle from the south. There was no contrarity between that and the current, and the billows rose and fell unbroken. Had it been otherwise, I must long ago have perished. But as it was, it is surprising how easily and securely my little and light boat could ride. Often, as I lay still at the bottom and kept no more than an eye above the gunwale, I would see a big blue summit heaving close above me. Yet the coracle would but bounce a little dance, as if on springs, and subside on the other side into the trough as lightly as a bird. I began, after a little to grow very bold, and sat up to try my skill at paddling. But even a small chairge in the disposition of the weight will produce violent changes in the behavior of a coracle, and I had hardly moved before the boat giving up at once her gentle dancing movement ran straight down a slope of water so steep that it made me giddy, and struck her nose with a spout of spray deep into the side of the next wave. I was drenched and terrified, and fell instantly back into my old position, whereupon the Coracle seemed to find her head again and led me softly as before among the billows. It was plain she was not to be interfered with, and at any rate, since I could in no way influence her course, what hope had I of reaching land? I began to be horribly frightened, but I kept my head for all that first, moving with all care, I gradually baled out the coracle with my sea cap. Then, getting my eye once more above the gunwale, I set myself to study how it was she managed to slip so quietly through the rollers. I found each wave, instead of the big, smooth, glossy mountain it looks from the shore or from a vessel's deck, was for all the world like any range of hills on the dry land, full of peaks and smooth places and valleys. The Coracle left to herself, turning from side to side, threaded so to speak, her way through these lower parts, and avoided the steep slopes and higher toppling summits of the wave. Well, now, thought I to myself. It is plain I must lie where I am and not disturb the balance. But it is plain also that I can put the paddle over the side, and from time to time, in smooth paces, give her a shove or two towards land. No sooner thought upon than done. There I lay on my elbow in the most trying attitude, and every now and again gave a weak stroke or two to turn her head to shore. It was very tiring and slow work. Yet I did visibly gain ground, And as we drew near the cape of the woods, though I saw I must infallibly miss that point, I had still made some hundred yards of easting. I was indeed close in. I could see the cool green tree tops swaying together in the breeze, and I felt sure I should make the next promontory without fail. It was high time for I now began to be tortured with thirst. The glow of the sun from above, its thousandfold reflection from the waves, The sea water that fell and dried upon me, caking my very lips with salt, combined to make my throat burn, and my brain ache. The sight of the trees so near at hand had almost made me sick with longing. But the current had soon carried me past the point, and as the next reach of sea opened out, I beheld a sight that changed the nature of my thoughts. Right in front of me, not half a mile away, I beheld the Hispaniola under sail. I made sure, of course, that I should be taken, but I was so distressed for want of water that I scarcely knew whether to be glad or sorry at the thought. And long before I had come to the conclusion, surprise had taken possession of my mind, and I could do nothing but stare and wonder. The Hispaniola was under her mainsail and two jibs, and the beautiful white canvas shone in the sun like snow or silver. When I first sighted her, all her sails were drawing. She was laying a course about northwest, and I presumed the men on board were going round the island on their way back to the anchorage. Presently, she began to fetch more and more to the westward, so that I thought they had sighted me and were going about in chase. At last, however, she fell right into the wind's eye, was taken dead aback and stood there awhile, helpless, with her sails shivering. Clumsy Fellows said I they must be still drunk as owls, and I thought how Captain Smollett would have set them skipping. Meanwhile, the schooner gradually fell off and filled again upon another tack, sailed swiftly for a minute or so, and brought up once more dead in the wind's eye. Again and again this was repeated to and fro up and down, north, southeast and west. The Hispaniola sailed by swoops and dashes, and at each repetition ended as she had begun, with widely flapping canvas. It became plain to me that nobody was steering, and if so, where were the men. Either they were dead, drunk, or had deserted her, I thought, and perhaps if I could get on board, I might return the vessel to her captain. The current was bearing coracle and schooner southward at an equal rate. As for the latter's sailing, it was so wild and intermittent, and she hung each time so long in irons that she certainly gained nothing, if she did not even lose. If I only dared to sit up and paddle. I made sure that I could overhaul her. The scheme had an air of adventure that inspired me, and the thought of the water breaker beside the foe companion doubled my growing courage. Up I got was welcomed almost instantly by another cloud of spray, But this time stuck to my purpose and set myself with all my strength and caution to paddle after the unsteered hispaniola. Once I shipped to sea so heavy that I had to stop and bale, with my heart fluttering like a bird. But gradually I got into the way of the thing and guided my coracle among the waves with only now and then a blow upon her bows and a dash of foam in my face. I was now gaining rapidly on the schooner. I could see the brass glisten on the tiller as it banged about, and still no soul appeared upon her decks. I could not choose, but suppose she was deserted. If not, the men were lying drunk below, where I might batten them down, perhaps and do what I chose with the ship. For some time she had been doing the worst thing possible for me, standing still she headed nearly due south, yawing, of course all the time. Each time she fell off, her sails partly filled, and these brought her in a moment right to the wind again. I have said this was the worst thing possible for me. For helpless as she looked in this situation, with the camp of us crackling like cannon, and the blocks trundling and banging on the deck, she still continued to run away from me, not only with the speed of the current, but by the whole amount of her leeway, which was naturally great. But now at last I had my chance. The breeze fell for some seconds very low, and the current gradually turning her. The hispaniola revolved slowly around her center and at last presented me her stern, with the cabin windows still gaping open, and the lamp over the table still burning on into the day. The mainsail hung drooped like a banner. She was stock still but for the current. For the last little while I had even lost. But now redoubling my efforts, I began once more to overhaul the chase. I was not a hundred yards from her when the wind came again in a clap. She filled on the port tack, and was off again, stooping and skimming like a swallow. My first impulse was one of despair, but my second was towards joy. Round she came till she was broadside on to me, round still, till she had covered a half, and then two thirds, and then three quarters of the distance that separated us. I could see the waves boiling white under her fore foot. Immensely tall, she looked to me from my low station in the coracle, and then of a sudden I began to comprehend. I had scarce time to think, scarce time to act and save myself. I was on the summit of one swell when the schooner came swooping over the next. The bowsprit was over my head. I sprang on my feet and leapt, stamping the coracle under water with one hand. I caught the jibboom while my foot was lodged between the stay and the brace. And as I still clung there, panting, a dull blow told me that the schooner had charged down upon and struck the coracle, and that I was left without retreat on the Hispaniola. End of Chapter twenty four