Steve Brown's Bunyip, and Other StoriesBarry, John Arthur
General
Steve Brown's Bunyip, and Other Stories
Barry, John Arthur
Australia -- Fiction; Sea stories; Short stories
‘I now,’ continued the Captain, after a pause, during which he glanced
from the ‘tell-tale’ compass overhead to the attentive, wondering
faces of his audience—‘I now gave myself up for lost, or, at least,
imagined that I did so. But the love of life is strong indeed within
us; so that when after shooting this subterranean cataract, or
whatever it might have been, I found my boat once more steadily
gliding along, ever with the same dull gurgle of cleft water at her
bows, a faint ray of hope took the place of despairing calm. I was
young, remember; healthy, too, powerful and agile beyond the common,
and I felt it would be hard indeed to die like a rat in that black
hole. What accentuated the hope I speak of was the fact that the
lessening roar of the torrent I had just passed sounded as if directly
overhead. In vain I told myself that it was but a deceptive echo. Hope
would have her say, and buoyed me up, though ever so little, with the
idea, incredible as it seemed, that this horrible underground river
had doubled back beneath itself, and was making for the sea once more.
It has well been said that drowning men will clutch at straws! This
one, indeed, was soon to fail me; for presently, to my utter despair,
the noise of tumultuous waters ahead gave warning of another
cataract—another, or the same one, for, what with the din and the
darkness, I became quite confused. The passage was a repetition of the
last one, only, if anything, rougher; and, crushed in spirit, all
courage flown, I sank back, listening to the rush of the falling water
dying away overhead again. Was I, I wondered, descending to even
lower depths of earth’s bowels in this fashion, or merely driven to
and fro at the caprice of some remorseless current in what was to
prove my tomb! I believe that, for a time, under the stress of ideas
like this, my mind wandered; for I have a vague remembrance of singing
comic songs, of shouting defiance to fate, the darkness, and things
generally; behaving, in fact, like the lunatic I must have become.
Whether I descended any more rapids or not I cannot say. I have no
recollection whatever of the last part of my strange journey. When,
however, I came to my sober senses again I was at the end of it. The
boat was motionless, and I was standing upright in her.’
At this point in the Captain’s story, and while the interest of his
hearers was at its height, the chief officer came quietly in, and,
catching his superior’s eye, as quietly made his way out again.
Now, four bells struck, and the Captain exclaimed, ‘What, ten o’clock
already! My yarn has somewhat spun itself out, and I’m afraid the rest
must keep for another evening.’
At this there was quite a chorus of remonstrance. ‘It was cruel to
have excited their curiosity and leave it unsatisfied,’ was the
general verdict.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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