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
‘Why,’ he replied, ‘that you will be sold as an apprentice, or in
other words, as a slave, to the French West India company, in the
Isle of Tortugas, on the northern coast of Hispaniola, whither we are
bound.’
At these words I grew sick at heart. ‘Better,’ I said, ‘to have
allowed me drown in that sea than to have rescued me only to sell me
into slavery.’
‘Not so,’ answered my companion, something sternly. ‘You are young,
and have a thousand hopes before you. The Hand that miraculously
preserved you this day is ever stretched out in wisdom and mercy,
readier to help than to chastise.’
At this I could not avoid looking steadfastly at my Englishman; such
phrases being little apt to fall from the lips of sailors. By the
light of the lantern, I saw that he was a tall and stout old man,
with something of great grandeur, as I thought, in his high brow and
serene eyes. He could not have been much younger than sixty-five, but
he was still a very strong great man, with a presence and bearing
not like those of a wild sailor who has lived, as I may say, all his
life with his hands in the tar-bucket. After some pause he went on to
inform me, that besides himself there was no Englishman amongst the
crew, and that he counted upon being safely put ashore at Tortugas,
from whence he could get to Jamaica; for, as he said, he was not
unknown to the hunters and privateers who frequented the former
island. In reply to my entreaties, that he would endeavour to take me
with him, he said it was not possible; for although the captain might
consent, yet that many of the crew were greedy low fellows, who would
not render up a maravedi of the profits, to which, by the articles of
the voyage, it seems that they were all in some sort and in different
proportions entitled.
‘But be thankful,’ said my comrade, ‘that you are not a Spaniard;
for had you but a drop of the blood of that people in your veins, a
speedy death would be the best fate you could hope for on board a
ship commanded by Louis Montbars.’
‘Why,’ said I, ‘is he so inveterate against the people of Spain?’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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