Junior High School Literature, Book 1Elson, William H. (William Harris)
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Junior High School Literature, Book 1
Elson, William H. (William Harris)
American literature; English literature; Readers
That was the Long-boat. Old Mr. Rarx was one of her complement, and he
was the only passenger who had greatly misbehaved since the ship struck.
Others had been a little wild, which was not to be wondered at, and
not very blamable; but, he had made a lamentation and uproar which it
was dangerous for the people to hear, as there is always contagion in
weakness and selfishness. His incessant cry had been that he must not be
separated from the child, that he couldn’t see the child, and that he and
the child must go together. He had even tried to wrest the child out of
my arms, that he might keep her in his. “Mr. Rarx,” said I to him when
it came to that, “I have a loaded pistol in my pocket; and if you don’t
stand out of the gangway, and keep perfectly quiet, I shall shoot you
through the heart, if you have got one.” Says he, “You won’t do murder,
Captain Ravender!” “No, sir,” says I, “I won’t murder forty-four people
to humor you, but I’ll shoot you to save them.” After that he was quiet,
and stood shivering a little way off, until I named him to go over the
side.
The Long-boat being cast off, the Surf-boat was soon filled. There only
remained aboard the Golden Mary, John Mullion, the man who had kept
on burning the blue-lights (and who had so lighted every new one at
every old one before it went out, as quietly as if he had been at an
illumination); John Steadiman; and myself. I hurried those two into the
Surf-boat, called to them to keep off, and waited with a grateful and
relieved heart for the Long-boat to come and take me in, if she could. I
looked at my watch, and it showed me, by the blue-light, ten minutes past
two. They lost no time. As soon as she was near enough, I swung myself
into her, and called to the men, “With a will, lads! She’s reeling!”
We were not an inch too far out of the inner vortex of her going down,
when, by the blue-light which John Mullion still burnt in the bow of the
Surf-boat, we saw her lurch, and plunge to the bottom head-foremost. The
child cried, weeping wildly, “O the dear Golden Mary! O look at her! Save
her! Save the poor Golden Mary!” And then the light burned out, and the
black dome seemed to come down upon us.
ADRIFT IN LIFE BOATS
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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