The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 06Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 06
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century
One I recognised for the coxswain's, Israel Hands, that had been Flint's
gunner in former days. The other was, of course, my friend of the red
night-cap. Both men were plainly the worse for drink, and they were still
drinking; for, even while I was listening, one of them, with a drunken
cry, opened the stern window and threw out something, which I divined to
be an empty bottle. But they were not only tipsy; it was plain that they
were furiously angry. Oaths flew like hailstones, and every now and then
there came forth such an explosion as I thought was sure to end in blows.
But each time the quarrel passed off, and the voices grumbled lower for a
while, until the next crisis came, and, in its turn, passed away without
result.
On shore, I could see the glow of the great camp-fire burning warmly
through the shore-side trees. Some one was singing, a dull, old, droning
sailor's song, with a droop and a quaver at the end of every verse, and
seemingly no end to it at all but the patience of the singer. I had heard
it on the voyage more than once, and remembered these words:--
"But one man of her crew alive,
What put to sea with seventy-five."
And I thought it was a ditty rather too dolefully appropriate for a
company that had met such cruel losses in the morning. But, indeed, from
what I saw, all these buccaneers were as callous as the sea they sailed
on.
At last the breeze came; the schooner sidled and drew nearer in the dark;
I felt the hawser slacken once more, and with a good, tough effort, cut
the last fibres through.
The breeze had but little action on the coracle, and I was almost
instantly swept against the bows of the _Hispaniola_. At the same time
the schooner began to turn upon her heel, spinning slowly, end for end,
across the current.
I wrought like a fiend, for I expected every moment to be swamped; and
since I found I could not push the coracle directly off, I now shoved
straight astern. At length I was clear of my dangerous neighbour; and
just as I gave the last impulsion, my hands came across a light cord that
was trailing overboard across the stern bulwarks. Instantly I grasped it.
Why I should have done so I can hardly say. It was at first mere
instinct; but once I had it in my hands and found it fast, curiosity
began to get the upper hand, and I determined I should have one look
through the cabin window.
I pulled in hand over hand on the cord, and, when I judged myself near
enough, rose at infinite risk to about half my height, and thus commanded
the roof and a slice of the interior of the cabin.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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