Jack Derringer : $b A tale of deep waterLubbock, Basil
General
Jack Derringer : $b A tale of deep water
Lubbock, Basil
Seafaring life -- Fiction
"Awake, are you, old son?" remarked the cowpuncher heartily; "you've
had a jimdandy sleep. Here's your chuck all ready for you," and he
passed over Jack's allowance.
"By Jove! It's dark!" exclaimed the latter; "but why are you fellows
having your chow in the middle of the night?"
"Middle of the night----" began Broncho, and then stopped, a look of
consternation in his eyes.
"My God! he's off his head!" whispered Jim.
"Never seen such a dark night," went on Jack. "Can't see a yard!" Then,
as he felt the warm rays of the sun on his face, "Why, what's happened?
Where are you all?"
Slowly the terrible truth broke upon him. For a long minute no one
spoke, whilst Jack fought with all his courage and strength of will
against an overpowering desire to give way and break down.
This last calamity, coming on top of all the late trials, threatened to
overcome his iron nerves, which, sorely tried and weakened by anxiety
and privation, were strained to their utmost.
In silence he sat, shaking all over as if with ague, the others
watching him with fixed, blank, expressionless eyes, as if hypnotised.
Not a muscle moved amongst the three onlookers of this cruel struggle.
No sound was heard but the lapping of the water against the boat's side
and the creaking of the steer-oar in its crutch, jerked by the fierce
grip of Jack's shaking right hand.
Presently he spoke, slowly and deliberately, pronouncing each word with
care in the great effort to keep his voice steady.
"Boys, I'm blind, stone-blind!"
"Hell!" ejaculated Broncho, with a long breath, and there was a world
of feeling in the utterance of that one word.
Suddenly Jim broke down and burst into long, deep sobs, which shook his
little body fiercely as they tore themselves forth.
Then Tari, the poor savage, sprang forward, and kneeling at the blind
man's feet, seized his hand, patting and caressing it.
"You no mind, Jack. Me your _pleni_, me your dog, my eyes good, see
dam long way. Me see for you, me look eberywhere, all-e-way you want;
tell you what Tari see, then you no want eyes."
"It's all right, boys," said Jack cheerfully, the sound of Jim's sobs
and Tari's low pleading acting like a tonic on his manhood. "It's all
right. I guess I'm moon-struck, that's all; it's my own fault--I fell
asleep in the full glare of the moon. Don't you worry, boys, it'll pass
off in a few days."
"Ain't thar no remedy for this here malady?" inquired Broncho. "It's
a cinch we-alls ain't goin' to allow this here dissolute moon to deal
sech a low-flung play without coppering his bet. He ain't goin' to
bluff us on sech a debased an' dark-evolvin' deal without bein' raised
to the limit. I propose we-alls has a powwow as to how to euchre his
little game."
"There's no remedy that I ever heard of," said Jack meditatively, in a
low, quiet voice.
"Every disease leaves a trail, an' it's by scoutin' along that trail
that we-alls hits the remedy," declared Broncho. "Mebbe your eyes is
some painful, Jack?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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