My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3)Russell, William Clark
General
My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3)
Russell, William Clark
Sea stories; Shipwrecks -- Fiction
If I had witnessed the idleness of protest and remonstrance and appeal
on board the barque, I must have held entreaty to be tenfold more
useless in the face of the mortification of the carpenter and his crew,
increased as their temper was by the irritation and the fatigue of hard
and useless work. I might at once be sure that they had no intention of
suffering me to leave the island until they quitted it themselves for
good. There would be also distrust; the fear that I might contrive to
run away with the ship. Yet I had still to find out what they meant to
do; what their plans were for the night. I knew what I wanted, and I
remember what I prayed for as I tramped solitarily backwards and
forwards upon the edge of the herbage where it came thin to the beach.
Seven men entered the long-boat and shoved off. The carpenter remained;
with him was the sailor named Woodward. They flung themselves down upon
the ground with an air of exhaustion, and so lay smoking their pipes.
After awhile, the carpenter called to me. I approached him leisurely. He
asked me if I remembered the number of paces from the beach, and eyed me
so surlily as he put the inquiry that I began to think he suspected I
could tell if I chose.
‘If Wilkins can’t remember,’ I exclaimed, ‘why should I be able to do
so—I, whose opinion of this business you well know? I do not recollect
the number of paces. I wish I did, for I am more anxious than ever you
can be that you should come at this gold, that we may sail away, and end
the most cursed adventure that ever a man was forced into.’
The heat and the evident sincerity with which I spoke these words
slightly subdued him, and his ugly face relaxed its threatening look.
Finding him silent I said: ‘What do you mean to do?’
‘Stop here all night,’ he answered shortly. ‘Stop here, I’ve told ye,
till we’ve found the money.’
‘You will leave some men aboard the ship to look after her?’
‘Two’ll be quite enough,’ he answered. ‘How much looking after do she
want in weather of this pattern? If we don’t meet with the gold afore
dark—and there’ll be no chance of _that_, I allow—we must all be at hand
to tarn to at daybreak.’
I asked no further questions; and the fellow sank into silence, both he
and the other sucking at their pipes, whilst they seemed to hunt with
their eyes over the ground as they lay with their heads propped on their
elbows.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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