Humphrey Bold: A Story of the Times of BenbowStrang, Herbert
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Humphrey Bold: A Story of the Times of Benbow
Strang, Herbert
Benbow, John, 1653?-1702 -- Fiction
Coming safely to our musical raft, I was not long in discovering it
to be a very cranky thing, so that I had to keep my hold of the
rope in order to maintain my balance. But in a short time I was
able to defeat the raft's attempts to turn turtle, and then,
kneeling on it, still gripping the rope, I looked anxiously for
signs that the attention of the sentry on the battlements had been
awakened. But I heard his footsteps approach and recede at the same
measured pace; 'twas clear he suspected nothing; and without more
delay I began to work the raft towards the far side of the moat,
using the short plank I had brought with me as a paddle. So that no
sound of splashing might rise to betray us, at every stroke I dug
the paddle into the mud, which, as I had suspected, came to within
a little of the surface; indeed, the depth of water was barely
sufficient to float the raft, with my weight on it.
A most unsavory odor resulted from the stirring of the mud; but a
greater inconvenience was the tendency of the raft to lurch.
Holding on to the rope with one hand, I instinctively pulled upon
it to maintain my equilibrium when I felt myself toppling, with the
result that the raft moved backward, and I had to begin my punting
again. Fortunately, the width of the moat was little more than
thrice the length of my crazy craft, in spite of whose instability
I succeeded in reaching the opposite side.
Here, however, I found that my difficulties were by no means over.
The water was low in the moat, and the bank, perfectly free from
vegetation, rose almost vertically to a height of six or eight
feet. On a moonlit night I must have been seen if the sentry had
glanced in my direction; dark as it was, I feared it was not so
dark but that my moving shape might be descried. I waited: not
hearing the sentry's footsteps, I began to fear the worst; but
finding after a time that no alarm had been given, and that all was
still about me, I first fastened the coil of bast I had brought on
my shoulders to the end of the rope where it was knotted about the
raft, and then began to clamber up the bank, somewhat incommoded by
having to keep a hold of the bast with one hand.
Careful as I was, I yet dislodged one or two clods of earth as I
climbed, which fell with a dull splash into the water. I went cold
with apprehension, and clung to the face of the bank, not daring to
make a movement. There were no fowl upon the moat; the splash I had
made was louder than any frog could have made; surely the
unaccustomed sound must this time have caught the sentry's ear! But
all was silent; maybe he was asleep; and in another few moments I
gained the top of the bank, breathless, rather, I suspect, from
excitement than exertion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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