The Wreck of the Grosvenor, Volume 1 of 3: An account of the mutiny of the crew and the loss of the ship when trying to make the BermudasRussell, William Clark
General
The Wreck of the Grosvenor, Volume 1 of 3: An account of the mutiny of the crew and the loss of the ship when trying to make the Bermudas
This injurious language was more than my temper could brook. Scarcely
knowing what I did, I threw myself against him, caught his throat, and
dashed him violently down upon the deck. The pistol exploded in his
hand as he fell.
"Carpenter," I cried furiously, "open that door!"
The fellow obeyed me instantly, and walked out of the cabin. Duckling
lay pretty well stunned upon the deck; but in a few moments he would
have been up and at me, and, hampered as I was by the irons, he must
have mastered me easily. I shambled over to where he lay, dragged him
upright, and pitched him with a crash through the open door against
the cuddy table. He struck it heavily and rolled under it, and I then
slammed the door and sat down, feeling faint and quite exhausted of
breath.
The door had not been closed two minutes when it was partially opened,
and a friendly hand (the boatswain's, as I afterwards learnt) placed
a pannikin of rum-and-water on the deck, and a voice said, "They'll
not let you be here long, sir." The door was then shut again; and very
thankful for a refreshment of which I stood seriously in need, I got
hold of the pannikin and swallowed the contents.
I now tried to reflect upon my situation, but found it impossible to do
so, as I could not guess what intentions the captain had against me and
what would be the result of my conflict with Duckling. For some while I
sat expecting to see the chief mate rush in on me; and, in anticipation
of a struggle with a coward who would have me almost at his mercy, I
laid hold of a sea-boot, very heavy, with an iron-shod heel, and held
it ready to strike at the bully's head should he enter. However, in
about a quarter of an hour's time I saw him through my cabin window
pass along the main-deck, with a blue lump over his right eye, while
the rest of his face shone with soap, which he must have used without
stint to rid his features of the blood that had smeared them. Whether
the report of the pistol had been heard or not I could not tell; but no
notice appeared to be taken of it. I noticed a number of the crew just
under the forecastle conversing in a very earnest manner, and sometimes
looking towards my cabin.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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