Leonard Lindsay ; $b or, the story of a buccaneerReach, Angus B. (Angus Bethune)
General
Leonard Lindsay ; $b or, the story of a buccaneer
Reach, Angus B. (Angus Bethune)
Buccaneers -- Fiction; Historical fiction
‘Never mind,’ quoth I; ‘take care of the canoe, and we shall soon
find him.’ So saying, I called upon Nicky and Bristol Tom to land,
which they did, making their way to the projection, round which the
dwarf had run, while I, following a steep cleft or split in the rock,
which ran from near the top of it, down to a white sandy beach on the
opposite side from the cove, descended rapidly. All at once, about
half-way down, my eye caught the flutter of canvas, and immediately
I discerned something like a tent, very snugly pitched in a nook of
rock, about a couple of fathoms above high water-mark, with a sort of
fence of barrels and boxes round it.
‘Ho, ho!’ quoth I. ‘Here is the hermitage, at last.’
‘Stop!’ says the shrill voice I had so often heard, ‘stop there—as
you value your life!’
And thereon I descried the dwarf, with a long-barrelled Spanish gun
in his hand, which he was in the act of lifting to his shoulder.
‘Stop!’ quoth he again; and being unarmed, I had nothing for it, in
prudence, but to obey.
‘My friend,’ says I, ‘you may as well uncock that gun. Your canoe is
taken, as you saw. My comrades are upon the rock. The schooner is not
a mile off, and if you are fool enough to fire at me, hit or miss, I
warn you that it will be the last time you will ever pull a trigger.’
The little man paused a moment. ‘Let me alone, and I will let you
alone,’ he said.
‘No, no,’ quoth I. ‘You paid us the first visit, and we must show our
good breeding by returning it.’
The pilot considered for a brief space, made a passionate gesture
with the air of a man deeply mortified, and then called out, at the
same time grounding his musket—
‘Come on. I will do you no harm.’
So I descended and joined him, just as Nicky and Bristol Tom made
their appearance on the beach below, having run round the islet. By
this time we were close to the tent.
‘Come in,’ says the dwarf; ‘I shall be more hospitable than you.’ The
habitation consisted simply of a dry cleft in the rocks, over which
a roof of canvas had been stretched, supported in the centre by a
pole. For furniture there was a hammock, not slung, but laid upon
the sandy floor, and a sea-chest, upon which lay a very complete
set of astronomical instruments, with paper, pens, and ink, and a
half-finished chart, which, appearing to be a plan of the shoals,
I laid violent hands on at once. There was some common household
stuff, such as knives, plates, and pots in a corner, and near them a
good-sized water barrel.
‘Well, gentlemen,’ says the dwarf, very politely, ‘behold you in my
dwelling. What may be your pleasure?’
‘Our pleasure,’ said I, ‘is that you shift your dwelling for a brief
space, and sling your hammock on board the schooner.’
‘I protest against being thus unlawfully carried away,’ says the
little man.
‘You are at perfect liberty to protest,’ said I; ‘but you must go on
board all the same.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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