Twenty-six

ISRAEL HANDS

The water was still too high to allow us to beach the ship. We sat in silence over another meal.

"Cap'n," said Hands at last, with that same uncomfortable smile, "here's my old friend, O'Brien; suppose you were to throw him over the side. I don't trouble myself about such things as a rule, and I don't take any blame for settling him; but I don't think he looks very pretty there, do you?"

"I'm not strong enough, and I don't like the task; and there he lies, so far as I'm concerned," said I.

"This ship is a bad ship for seamen—this Hispaniola, Jim," he went on. "There's a lot o' poor seamen dead and gone since you and I got on board at Bristol. There was this here O'Brien, now—he's dead, isn't he? Well, now, I've never been to school, and, to put it straight, do you think that a dead man is dead for good, or does he come alive again?"

"You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the spirit; you must know that already," I replied. "O'Brien there is in another world, and perhaps he's watching us."

"Ah!" said he. "Well, that's unfortunate. It appears as if killing people was a waste of time. And yet, spirits don't matter much, by what I've seen. I'll chance it with the spirits, Jim. And now, you've spoken up free, and I'll take it kind if you'd step down below and get me a—well, a—curse me! I can't hit the name of it; well, you get me a bottle of wine, Jim—this here rum's too strong for my head."

Israel Hands' words did not seem to me to come natural. As for his idea of preferring wine to rum, I entirely disbelieved it. He wanted me to go below and leave him alone for some reason—so much was plain—but, with what purpose, I could in no way imagine. His eyes never met mine, they kept wandering, up and down—now at the sky, now to the dead O'Brien. All the time he kept smiling, and putting his tongue out in the most shame-faced manner, so that a child could have told that he was intending to play some trick on me. I answered at once, seeming to notice nothing—for with such a foolish fellow it was clearly better to pretend not to have seen anything.

"Some wine?" I said. "Far better. Will you have white or red?"

"Well, I guess it's about the blessed same to me," he replied, "so long as it's strong, and plenty of it."

"All right," I answered. "I'll bring you red, Mr. Hands. But I'll have to search for it."

With that I went down below with all the noise I could, slipped off my shoes, ran quietly along, up the other stairs, and put my head up to watch. I knew he would not expect to see me there; yet I took every possible care; and certainly the worst of my fears proved too true.

He had risen on to his hands and knees. It was clear that his leg hurt him very sharply when he moved—for I could hear him moan. Then he crept swiftly along and, from its hiding-place among some ropes, he took out a long knife, discoloured up to its handle with blood. He looked upon it for a moment, tried the point upon his hand, and then hastily concealing it in his coat, went back again into his old place.

This was all that I required to know. Israel could move about; he was now armed; and if he had been at so much trouble to send me away, it was plain that I was meant to be the sacrifice. What he would do afterwards was more than I could say: perhaps he would try to make his way right across the island from North Bay to the camp in the lowlands, or perhaps he would fire the ship's gun, trusting that his own friends might come first to help him.

Yet I felt sure that I could trust him in one point, since in that our interests jumped together, and that was in the beaching of the vessel. We both desired to have her laid safe enough in a sheltered place, and so that, when the time came, she could be got off again with as little labour and danger as possible; and until that was done, I considered that my life would certainly be spared.

While I was thus turning the business over in my mind, my body had been busy also. I had gone back to the room, slipped once more into my shoes, and laid my hand on a bottle of wine, and I went up again with this in my hand.

Hands lay as I had left him, all fallen together, and with his eyes half shut as though he were too weak to bear the light. He looked up, however, at my coming, knocked the neck off the bottle, like a man who had done the same thing often, and took a big drink. Then he lay quiet for a little.

"Ah, Jim, Jim, I'm for my long home, and no mistake," he said at last.

"Well," said I, "if I was you and thought myself so near to death, I would say my prayers like a God-fearing man."

"Why?" said he. "Now, tell me why."

"Why?' I cried. "You were asking me just now about the dead. You've lived in evil and lies and blood; there's a man you killed lying at your feet this moment; and you ask me why! For God's mercy, Mr. Hands, that's why."

I spoke with a little heat, thinking of the bloody knife he had hidden in his pocket, and intended, in his ill thoughts, to end me with. He, for his part, took a great drink of the wine and spoke with the most unusual solemnity.

"For thirty years," he said, "I've sailed the seas, and seen good and bad, better and worse, fair weather and foul, stores running out, knives going, and what not. Well, now I tell you, I've never seen good come o' goodness yet. The man who strikes first is my fancy; dead men don't bite; those are my views—amen, so be it. And now, you look here," he added, suddenly changing his manner, "we've had about enough of this fooling. You just take my orders, Cap'n Hawkins, and we'll sail straight in and be done with it."

We had scarcely two miles to run; but the way was difficult: the entrance to this northern bay was narrow and dangerous. Israel Hands knew his work; his orders were excellent, and I think I carried them out well and quickly. The shores of North Bay were thickly wooded. Right before us, at the southern end, we saw the wreck of a ship in the last state of ruin. It had been a great vessel, but had lain there so long that shore bushes had taken root on it, and now grew there thick with flowers. It was a sad sight, but it showed us that the bay was calm.

"Now," said Hands, "look there; there's a good place to beach a ship on. Fine flat sand, sheltered, trees all round it, and flowers growing like a garden on that old ship."

"And once beached," I inquired, "how shall we get her off again?“

"Why, so," he replied: "you take a rope on shore there on the other side at low water: take a turn about one o' those big trees: bring it back. When high water comes, all take a pull upon the rope, and off she comes as sweet as nature. And now, boy, you be ready. We’re near the place now."

He issued his commands, which I breathlessly obeyed. The Hispaniola swung round rapidly, and ran towards the low wooded shore.

The excitement of the task had made me watch Hands less carefully. I was so much interested waiting for the ship to touch land, that I quite forgot the danger that hung over me. I was leaning over the side looking at the water. I might have fallen without a struggle for my life, had not a sudden fear seized upon me, and made me turn my head. Perhaps I had heard a sound, or seen his shadow moving with the tail of my eye; but, sure enough, when I looked round there was Hands already half-way towards me, with the knife in his right hand.

We both must have cried out aloud when our eyes met; but, while mine was the cry of terror, his was the roar of anger like a charging beast's. At the same instant he threw himself at me. I leapt sideways, and he fell downward.

Before he could recover, I was safe out of the corner where he had me trapped, with all the ship to run about in. He had already turned and was coming directly after me. I stopped, drew a pistol from my pocket and took a cool aim; but the powder was wet and the pistol did not fire. I cursed myself for my carelessness. Why had not I, long before, loaded it again?

Wounded as he was, it was wonderful how fast he could move, his hair falling over his face and his face itself red with his haste and anger. I had no time to try my other pistol, nor indeed, much desire, for I was sure it would be useless. One thing I saw plainly: I must not simply retire before him or he would speedily trap me again at the other end of the ship. Once so caught, and nine or ten inches of the bloody knife would be my last experience on this side of the grave.

I paused. Seeing that I meant to turn and run past him, he also paused. As I moved one way, he moved also. It was such a game as I had often played upon the rocks at home, but never before with such a wildly beating heart as now. Still, as I say, it was a boy's game and I thought I could hold my own at it, against an old seaman with a wounded leg. Indeed, my courage had begun to rise so high that I allowed myself a few thoughts on what would be the end of the business, and while I saw certainly that I could make the game continue as long as I liked, I saw no hope of any escape in the end.

Well, while things stood thus, suddenly the Hispaniola struck the sand, and then, swift as a blow, went over on to one side.

We were both of us thrown over, and both of us rolled almost together, to the side; the dead Red-cap, with his arms still spread out, came slipping after us. So near were we, indeed, that my head came against Hands' foot with a crack that shook my teeth. In spite of the blow, I was the first on foot again; for Hands had got mixed up with the dead body. The sudden leaning over of the ship had made it no place for running on; I had to find some new way of escape, and that upon the instant, for my foe was almost touching me. Quick as thought, I leapt and began to climb up hand over hand among the sails.

I had been saved by my quickness; the knife had struck not half a foot below me, as I fled upward; and there stood Israel Hands with his mouth open and his face upturned to mine, a perfect figure of anger and surprise.

Now that I had a moment to myself, I lost no time in loading both my pistols again with dry powder.

This action came as a nasty shock to Hands. He saw the game going against him. After considering the matter for a minute or two, he began to climb up slowly and painfully after me, holding the knife in his teeth. It cost him no end of time and moans to drag his wounded leg behind him; and I had quietly finished my arrangements before he was much more than a third of the way up. Then, with a pistol in either hand, I addressed him.

"One more step, Mr. Hands," said I, "and I'll fire! Dead men don't bite, you know," I added, with a smile.

He stopped instantly. I could see by the working of his face that he was trying to think. At last he spoke. In order to speak he had to take the knife from his mouth, but, in all else, he remained unmoved.

"Jim," said he, "I guess we've got to make terms of peace. I would have had you but for that roll of the ship. But I'm unfortunate, I am. I suppose I'll have to pull down my flag, which comes hard, you see, for an old seaman to a ship's boy like you, Jim."

I was drinking in his words and smiling away, as pleased with myself as a monkey on a roof-top, when, all in a breath, back went his right hand over his shoulder. Something sang like an arrow through the air: I felt a blow and then a sharp pain, and there I was pinned by the shoulder. In the terrible pain and surprise of the moment—I scarce can say it was by my own will, and I am sure it was without taking any aim—both my pistols went off, and both escaped out of my hands. They did not fall alone; with a low cry, Hands loosed his hold, and fell, head-first into the water.