My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3)Russell, William Clark
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My Shipmate Louise: The Romance of a Wreck, Volume 3 (of 3)
Russell, William Clark
Sea stories; Shipwrecks -- Fiction
But I was wet through; and now that we were safe, the vessel sliding
with swiftness through the clear shadow of the night, and my shipmate
Louise tranquil in the full realisation of our sudden and complete
deliverance, I could find leisure to feel a little chilly. So, leaving
her with a promise that I should shortly return, and telling Wetherly to
keep the barque steady as she was going, I picked up the cabin lamp,
that was still feebly burning upon the deck, and descended the companion
steps. I paused to look around me upon the familiar interior in which
Miss Temple and I had passed so many hours of distress and wretchedness
with an exclamation of gratitude to God for his merciful preservation of
us, and then went to my cabin to habit myself in such dry garments as I
might find in Captain Braine’s locker. I opened the door, but recoiled
with an involuntary cry. I had forgotten Forrest! and there lay the dead
body of the man right in front of me. Twice, now, had that little square
of carpet been stained by human blood. I was horribly shocked by the
spectacle of the corpse; but it was necessary that I should change my
clothes, and I had to undergo the torture of being watched by those
half-closed ghastly eyes, to which twenty expressions of life were
imparted by the stirring of the dim flame in the lantern whilst I sought
for and attired myself in dry apparel. This done, I made a brighter
flame, and then held the light to the dead face, that I might be sure
the villain had no life in him. No gibbeted body that had been swinging
in chains for a month could be deader. I entered the cuddy, hung up the
lamp, and went on deck.
‘Miss Temple,’ I exclaimed, ‘will you kindly hold the wheel for a few
minutes?’
She rose and grasped the spokes. Wetherly understood me, and followed me
below in silence.
‘We must toss the body overboard,’ said I; ‘there can be no luck for the
ship with such an object as that as a part of her freight, and Miss
Temple must be helped to forget the horror of the night that’s going.’
Between us we picked up the corpse, very quickly conveyed it through the
companion hatch, went forward with it where the darkness lay heavy, and
dropped it over the bulwarks.
‘That’s how they would have served you, sir,’ said Wetherly.
‘And you,’ said I.
‘Yes, my God, I know it!’ he answered in a voice of agitation.
We returned to the wheel, which Wetherly took from Miss Temple, who
seated herself with me just behind it on the gratings, and there we held
a council. Our business must be to get to a port as soon as possible.
Should we head away for the Islands of the Low Archipelago, bearing
north-west with a chance of falling in with a vessel cruising amongst
them who would lend us two or three men to help us in navigating the
barque, or should we steer a due east course for Valparaiso, that lay
about two thousand six hundred miles distant?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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