Twenty-three

WIND AND STREAM

Ben Gunn's boat was safe enough for a person of my size, but she was the most peculiar and ill-tempered thing to control. Do as you pleased, she always travelled side-ways, and turning round and round was the thing she was best at. I am sure that I should never have reached the ship, had not wind and water carried me there.

At last the ship stood up before me like a mass of something blacker than darkness. Then she began to take shape, and the next moment I laid my hand on the rope which held her.

The outflowing water was dragging at the ship and the rope was stretched tight. One cut with my knife and the Hispaniola would go rushing out to sea.

So far so good; but it next came to my memory that to cut a rope when it is stretched tight is very dangerous. Very probably, if I cut the Hispaniola free, the loose end of the rope would knock me and my boat clean out of the water. Just while I was thinking this, there came a light breath of wind forcing the Hispaniola up into the stream; and to my great joy, I felt the rope grow loose under my hand.

With that I made up my mind: I took out my knife, opened it with my teeth, and cut almost through the rope. Then I lay quiet, waiting to cut the rest when the pull should be once more lessened by a breath of wind.

All this time I had heard the sound of loud voices from within the ship; but, to say truth, my mind had been so entirely taken up with other thoughts that I had scarcely given ear. Now, however, when I had nothing else to do, I began to attend to them.

One I recognized as 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 window and threw out something, which I guessed to be an empty bottle. But they were not only drunken; it was plain that they were very angry. I heard loud curses; and every now and then there came forth such a burst of anger as, I thought, was sure to end in blows. But each time the quarrel passed off, and the voices murmured lower for a time, until the next outbreak came; and that, 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. Someone was singing, a long, wearying old sailor's song. 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.

At last the wind came; the ship drew nearer in the dark; I felt the rope become loose, and, with one good stroke, cut it through.

I was almost instantly driven against the side of the Hispaniola. At the same time the ship began to turn upon her heel, moving slowly round across the stream.

I worked like a devil, for I expected every moment to go under. Finding that I could not push my boat directly off the ship's side, I pushed back so that the ship might leave me behind. At last I was clear of my dangerous neighbour, and, just as I gave a last push, my hands came across a light rope hanging over the end of the ship. Instantly I seized it.

Why I did so, I can hardly say; but once I had it in my hands, I determined to have one look into the ship through the window just above me. I pulled in the rope hand over hand. When I judged myself near enough I stood up in my boat (at great risk) to half my height, and was able to see the roof and part of the inside of the room.

By this time the ship and her little companion were moving swiftly through the water: indeed we had already come level with the camp-fire. The little waves were "talking" round her sides, and until I got my eyes above the edge of the window, I could not understand why the watchmen had taken no alarm. But one look was enough, and was all that I dared take, standing in that unsteady boat. It showed me Hands and his companion fighting to the death, each with a hand upon the other's throat.

I dropped down into the boat again, none too soon, for I nearly went over into the water. I could see nothing for the moment but those two red angry faces swinging together under the smoky lamp, and I shut my eyes to let them grow once more familiar with the darkness.

The endless song had come to an end at last, and the whole company about the camp-fire had broken into the words I had heard so often:

Fifteen men on the dead man's chest—

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

Drink and the devil had done for the rest—

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!

I was just thinking how busy drink and the devil were at that very moment in the Hispaniola, when I was surprised by a sudden movement of the boat. At the same moment she leant over sharply and seemed to change her course. The speed had also strangely increased.

I looked over my shoulder, and my heart jumped. There, right behind me, was the glow of the camp-fire. The stream had turned sharply, carrying round with it the tall ship and the little dancing boat; ever quickening, ever murmuring louder, it went swiftly onward to the open sea.

Almost at the same moment one shout followed another from on board. I heard the sound of hurrying feet, and I knew that the two men had ceased their quarrel and had understood what had happened.

I lay down flat in the bottom of the boat and prayed to God for my soul. When we reached the open sea I was sure we should fall into rough water; there all my troubles would be ended speedily. I could bear to die, but I could not bear to look upon my fate as it approached.

Thus I lay for hours, never ceasing to expect death at the next moment. Then at last weariness grew upon me, and sleep fell upon my mind even in the midst of my terrors, and I lay in my boat and dreamed of home and the old "Benbow" Inn.