The Story of Charles Strange: A Novel. Vol. 3 (of 3)Wood, Henry, Mrs.
General
The Story of Charles Strange: A Novel. Vol. 3 (of 3)
Wood, Henry, Mrs.
Fiction
"Here goes, then! One calm, but dark night, when other people were
sleeping, we stole down to the creek, five of us, rigged ourselves out
in the purser's toggery, leaving the Government uniforms in exchange,
unmoored one of the cutters, and got quietly away. We had secreted
some bread and salt meat; water there had been already on board. The
wind was off the land, and we let the boat drift before it a bit
before attempting to make sail. By daylight we were far enough from
the island; no chance of their seeing us--a speck on the waters. The
wind, hitherto south, had backed to the westward. We shaped a course
by the sun to the eastward, and sailed along at the rate of five or
six knots. My comrades were not as rough as they might have been;
rather decent fellows for convicts. Two of them were from Essex; had
been sentenced for poaching only. Now began our lookout: constantly
straining our eyes along the horizon for a sail, but especially astern
for an outward-bounder, but only saw one or two in the distance that
did not see us. What I underwent in that boat as day after day passed,
and no sail appeared, I won't enter upon now, old fellow. The
provisions were exhausted, and so was the water. One by one three of
my companions went crazy and died. The survivor and I had consigned
the last of them to the deep on the twelfth day, and then I thought my
turn had come; but Markham was worse than I was. How many hours went
on, I knew not. I lay at the bottom of the boat, exhausted and half
unconscious, when suddenly I heard voices. I imagined it to be a
dream. But in a few minutes a boat was alongside the cutter, and two
of its crew had stepped over and were raising me up. They spoke to me,
but I was too weak to understand or answer; in fact, I was delirious.
I and Markham were taken on board and put to bed. After some days,
passed in a sort of dreamy, happy delirium, well cared for and
attended to, I woke up to the realities of life. Markham was dead: he
had never revived, and died of exposure and weakness some hours after
the rescue."
"What vessel had picked you up?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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