Salt Water: The Sea Life and Adventures of Neil D'Arcy the MidshipmanKingston, William Henry Giles
General
Salt Water: The Sea Life and Adventures of Neil D'Arcy the Midshipman
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Midshipmen -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
I looked anxiously round for my uncle, and my mind was much relieved to
see him standing, unhurt apparently, a few paces from me. However, my
satisfaction was much mitigated when, being able to distinguish objects
more clearly, I perceived that there were two men standing on either
side of him, with pistols in their hands; and it instantly occurred to
me that they were there to act the part of executioners, and to blow his
brains out, at the command of the ruffian I saw sitting as judge in this
lawless court. We recognised each other at the same moment; and if I
could judge by the expression of his countenance, he had more compassion
for me than fear for himself. He made no attempt to speak to me, but
instantly resumed his former undaunted attitude, with his arms folded on
his bosom, and his eye resting on the leader of the smugglers.
But there was another object which was, indeed, well calculated to fill
me with horror. It was the corpse of the murdered man, stretched out on
some rough planks, resting on four casks placed on end; the face
uncovered and bloody; the eyes staring wide open, for no one had taken
the trouble to close them; and the features distorted by the wound or,
perhaps, by fear of the fate which he saw prepared for him when his
murderers appeared. The corpse was close to me, and I could not keep my
eyes from it, dreadful as it was. It seemed to possess a terrible
fascination; and every time I turned my eyes away, it attracted them
back again; so that, wild and remarkable as was the whole scene, that
horrible object is to this day the most prominent to my mental vision,
and all the rest is but an indistinct background to the picture.
I found that Jack Stretcher was close to me, on my left side, also in
custody of two smugglers. The cave itself was a complete storehouse of
goods of every description. There were arms--swords, pistols, and
muskets; and bales of silks, boxes of laces and ribbons, and casks of
spirits: indeed, everything with a high duty on it was here collected,
ready to be sent up to London or through the country, to the _highly
respectable_ shops which dealt in such things. I had not time, however,
to make many observations, when the fierce ruffian at the head of the
table commenced the proceedings by inquiring who we were and what was
our object in coming on shore that night.
"You know perfectly well who we are, and with regard to our object on
shore, you certainly are not qualified to question me," answered my
uncle, with a firm voice.
"Then I must answer for you," replied the smuggler. "You came,
instigated by a wretch whose body lies there, under the hopes of taking
me and my men in our nest. He has received his reward. The very moment
he was thinking he had got us secure, a pistol bullet went through his
head. What do you think you deserve?"
My uncle did not answer.
"Speak, and answer me!" exclaimed the ruffian, levelling a pistol at
him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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