When his pipe was out he rose and made several strides about the
cook-room, then took the lanthorn, and entering the cabin stood awhile
surveying the place.
"So this would have been my coffin but for you, Mr. Rodney?" said he. "I
was in good company, though," pointing over his shoulder at the crucifix
with his thumb. "Lord, how the rogues prayed and cursed in this same
cabin! In fine weather, and when all was well, the sharks in our wake
had more religion than they; but the instant they were in danger, down
they tumbled upon their quivering knees, and if heaven was twice as big
as it is, it could not have held saints enough for those varlets to
petition."
"You were nearly all Spaniards?"
"Ay; the worst class of men a ship could enter these seas with. But for
our calling they are the fittest of all the nations in the world; better
even than the Portuguese, and with truer trade instincts than the
trained mulatto--nimbler artists in roguery than ever a one of them. I
despise their superstition, but they are the better pirates for it. They
carry it as a man might a feather bed; it enables them to fall soft.
D'ye take me?" He gave one of his short loud laughs, and said, "I hope
this slope won't increase. The angle's stiff enough as it is. 'Twill be
like living on the roof of a house. I have a mind to see how she lies.
What d'ye say, Mr. Rodney? shall I venture into the open?"
"Why not?" said I. "You can move briskly. You have as much life as ever
you had."
"Let's go, then," he exclaimed, and climbing the ladder he pushed open
the companion-door and stepped on to the deck. I followed with but
little solicitude, as you may suppose, as to what might attend his
exposure. The blast of the gale though it was broken into downwards
eddying dartings by the rocks, made him bawl out with the sting of it,
and for some moments he could think of nothing but the cold, stamping
the deck, and beating his hands.
"Ha!" cried he, grinning to the smart of his cheeks, "this is not the
cook-room, eh? Great thunder, you will not have it that this ice has
been drifting north? Why, man, 'tis icier by twenty degrees than when we
were first locked up."
"I hope not," said I; "and I think not. Your blood doesn't course strong
yet, and you are fresh from the furnace. Besides, it is blowing a bitter
cold gale. Look at that sky and listen to the thunder of the sea!"
The commotion was indeed terribly uproarious. The spume as before was
blowing in clouds of snow over the ice, and fled in very startling
flashes of whiteness under the livid drapery of the sky. The wind itself
sounded like the prolonged echo of a discharge of monster ordnance, and
it screeched and whistled hideously where it struck the peaks and edges
of the cliffs and swept through the schooner's masts. The rending noises
of the ice in all directions were distinct and fearful. The Frenchman
looked about him with consternation, and to my surprise crossed
himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account