The Mutineers: A Tale of Old Days at Sea and of Adventures in the Far East as Benjamin Lathrop Set It Down Some Sixty Years AgoHawes, Charles Boardman
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The Mutineers: A Tale of Old Days at Sea and of Adventures in the Far East as Benjamin Lathrop Set It Down Some Sixty Years Ago
Hawes, Charles Boardman
Sea stories
He had a way with him, partly the quiet humor that twinkled in his eyes,
partly his courteous manner toward all of us, particularly the older men,
that already had endeared him to every member of our company, and a general
murmur of assent answered him.
"Blodgett, Neddie, and I'll stand first watch, then. We'll make the watches
three hours on deck and three below, if you say so. You others had best
hunt out an easy place to sleep, but let every man keep his knife or club
where he can snatch it up in case of attack."
Remembering his comfortable quarters in the steerage of the Island
Princess, the cook groaned; but we found a spot where there was some
sun-baked earth, which we covered with such moss as we could lay our hands
on, threw ourselves down, and fell asleep forthwith.
We were so stiff when the other three waked us that we scarcely could stand
without help; but we gradually worked new life into our sore muscles and
took our stations with as much good-will as we could muster. Roger gave us
his watch to tell the time by, and we agreed on separate posts from which
to guard against surprise--the cook a little way down the hill to the
right, Davie Paine farther to the left, and I on the summit of the rocks
whence I could see in all directions.
The wild view from that rock would have been a rare sight for old and
experienced voyagers, and to me, a boy in years and in travels, it was
fascinating both for its uncommon beauty and for the thousand perils that
it might conceal. Who could say what savages were sleeping or prowling
about under the dark branches of yonder shadowy woods? What wild creatures
lurked in their depths? What pirate prows were steering their course by
yonder cone-shaped peaks or by those same bright stars that twinkled
overhead?
I studied the outline of the island, with its miles of flat marshland deep
in grass and tangled vines, its palms and dense forests, its romantic
mountains, and its jagged northern cliffs; I watched the moonbeams
sparkling on the water; I watched a single light shining far out at sea. By
and by I saw inland, on the side of one of the hills, a light shining in
the jungle, and stared at it with a sort of unwilling fascination.
A light in the jungle could mean so many things!
Startled by a sound down in our own camp, I quickly turned and saw old
Blodgett scrambling up to where I sat.
"It ain't no use," he said in an undertone. "I can't sleep." He twisted his
back and writhed like a cat that wants to scratch itself against a
doorpost. "What an island for temples! Ah, Benny, here's our chance to make
our everlasting fortunes."
I touched him and pointed at the distant light shining out of the darkness.
Sitting down beside me, he watched it intently. "I tell ye, Benny," he
murmured thoughtfully, "either me and you and the rest of us is going to
make our everlasting fortunes out o' these here natives, or we're going to
lay out under these here trees until the trumpet blows for Judgment."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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