Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 09
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Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 09
Literature -- Collections
"The fool fell overboard," said Jemmy Vetch, shortly. "He never had as
much sense in that skull of his as would keep it sound on his
shoulders."
Gabbett scowled. "That's three of us gone," he said, in the tones of a
man suffering some personal injury.
They summed up their means of defense against attack. Sanders and
Greenhill had knives. Gabbett still retained the axe in his belt. Vetch
had dropped his musket at the Neck; and Bodenham and Cornelius were
unarmed.
"Let's have a look at the tucker," said Vetch.
There was but one bag of provisions. It contained a piece of salt pork,
two loaves, and some uncooked potatoes. Signal Hill station was not rich
in edibles.
"That ain't much," said the Crow, with rueful face. "Is it, Gabbett?"
"It must do, anyway," returned the giant, carelessly.
The inspection over, the six proceeded up the shore, and encamped under
the lee of a rock. Bodenham was for lighting a fire; but Vetch, who by
tacit consent had been chosen leader of the expedition, forbade it,
saying that the light might betray them. "They'll think we're drowned,
and won't pursue us," he said. So all that night the miserable wretches
crouched fireless together.
* * * * *
Morning breaks clear and bright, and--free for the first time in ten
years--they comprehend that their terrible journey has begun. "Where are
we to go? How are we to live?" asks Bodenham, scanning the barren bush
that stretches to the barren sea. "Gabbett, you've been out
before--how's it done?"
"We'll make the shepherds' huts, and live on their tucker till we get a
change o'clothes," said Gabbett, evading the main question. "We can
follow the coast-line."
"Steady, lads," said prudent Vetch; "we must sneak round yon sandhills,
and so creep into the scrub. If they've a good glass at the Neck, they
can see us."
"It does seem close," said Bodenham, "I could pitch a stone on to the
guard-house. Good-by, you bloody spot!" he adds, with sudden rage,
shaking his fist vindictively at the penitentiary, "I don't want to see
you no more till the Day o' Judgment."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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