Kitabı oku: «Ran Away to Sea», sayfa 21
Chapter Sixty Seven
I can ill describe the emotions that agitated my bosom. Though delivered from the terror of immediate death, there was nothing in the respite to give me any feeling of joy. It would be only a short procrastination of my doom, for certainly in the morning I must die. The slender chances of our seeing a sail were scarce worth contemplating; and I derived no consolation by dwelling upon such a contingency.
My fate, therefore, I looked upon as sealed. My protector could not save me. He had done the utmost in his power, in procuring the reprieve that was to give me this slight chance for my life. If it failed, he would undoubtedly have to keep his word and surrender me up.
I felt as the condemned criminal whose hour of execution has been fixed, and who knows it – with perhaps, only the difference that I could look forward to the event with a clear conscience. I felt not as a criminal, but a victim – a martyr among ruffians.
Of course I thought not of sleep – all sleep was banished from my eyelids. With such a prospect before me how could I sleep? Sadly at that crisis did I think of home, of parents, and kindred. Bitterly did I repent that I ever ran away to sea!
Alas! like many others who have acted disobediently and rashly – my experience had been too dearly purchased – my repentance came too late.
To-morrow by sunrise must I die; and oh! such a dreadful doom! My fate would never be known; for, though I was made a sacrifice, it was not likely that my executioners would long survive me. The chances that any of them would ever reach land were slight indeed; and, even if they should, it was not likely they would ever divulge that secret. I should never more be heard of; neither friends or kindred would ever know my sad fate, and it would be better that they should not. Oh! it was a dreadful doom!
Suffering under such reflections, I lay stretched along the plank; my protector was still by my side – so near that our shoulders touched, and our heads were close together – I could have heard anything he might have said, though uttered only in a whisper; but for a long time he did not address a word to me. He appeared to be busied with his own thoughts – as if buried in some deep cogitation – and did not desire to be spoken to. Noticing this, I too remained silent.
The night came down and promised to be dark, most of the preceding nights had been very clear, as there had been moonlight and scarce a cloud in the sky for weeks before. On this day, however, and particularly towards the close of it, black clouds had shown themselves above the horizon, and although the sea was still under a calm, it appeared as if some change was at hand.
After the sun had set, these clouds rose higher and higher – until a black pall of them covered the whole firmament, completely shrouding the moon, and, not only hiding her from our eyes, but hindering her beams from casting their light over the sea.
The surface of the water, instead of glittering around us, as it had done upon preceding nights, was now of a grey, gloomy complexion – for it reflected the colour of the clouds that hung over it. Both wore fit emblems of my own sad spirit.
Almost mechanically I remarked to my companion this change in the heavens, and spoke about the darkness of the night.
“So much the better, lad,” was his laconic reply, and he again relapsed in silence, as if he did not desire to be led into conversation.
I lay for awhile pondering upon his reply. How was it better? – what signified the darkness? – what advantage could be gained by that? A dark night could not bring ships upon the sea; nor could it save me from the doom that had been decreed. The sun would rise all the same; and at his rising I must die! The darkness could not avail me! What could he mean?
I pondered a long while upon his answer, but could not make out its signification. Had he intended it as a phrase of encouragement – something to hold out a hope to me – something to cheer me? for indefinitely it had this effect – or was the answer given mechanically and without thought?
The former I dared not hope. Since the moment in which my respite had been granted, he had not spoken nor offered a word of hope, for certain was I that he had none to offer. What then meant he by the words he had just uttered – “So much the better, lad?”
I would at length have asked him; but, just as I had made up my mind to do so, I perceived that he was twisting himself about, and before I could speak to him, he had turned his head away – so that he could no longer have heard me in a whisper. Not desirous that others should overhear the question I was about to put to him, I remained silent and waited for a better opportunity.
Chapter Sixty Eight
It had now grown extremely dark – so much so that I could scarce distinguish the form of my companion, though he was close by me – and the great raft itself with the bodies reclining upon it, was only distinguishable as a shapeless black mass. I could perceive the spread sail better than anything else, as this was of a whitish colour and stood up outlined against the gloomy grey of the sky.
But, dark as it was, I noticed that Brace on turning away from me had his knife clasped in his hand, with the blade still open and ready for use! What could he intend with this?
All at once it occurred to me that he suspected something – that he was apprehensive that the ruffians might not desire to wait for the morning as agreed – but might attempt to carry out their purpose in the night; and under this suspicion he had placed himself between them and me – determined to keep guard over me. The position he had taken gave colour to this supposition, and the attitude he was in almost confirmed it.
As I have before stated, Brace and I still occupied the floating planks which we had bound together, and these were attached to the raft at what might be called its stern – that is, when the raft moved through the water by means of sail, our position was behind, and in the wake. Now, as my companion had turned himself, he lay with his head towards the raft, and, as I thought, in a half-crouching attitude – though the pitchy darkness prevented me from being sure of this. At all events he was so placed, that any one attempting to approach me must first pass over his body; and, therefore, did I believe – seeing the knife in his grasp – that his object was to guard me.
I have said that it had now grown extremely dark; but in addition to this I perceived that the breeze had arisen – just about the same hour as on other nights. This night, however, it was much fresher than before – so fresh that the raft swept briskly along – making a rushing noise in the water, and leaving a foamy track behind her.
Lulled into a kind of stupor, I lay for some time listening to this noise; and was only aroused from my reverie by observing that the sound of the water became all at once less loud and distinct – as though the raft was moving more gently through the sea – then I ceased to hear it altogether!
Surely, thought I, the sail has come down, and the raft is no longer in motion.
I lay for a while listening attentively; to my surprise I could still distinguish the sound of rushing water; but it now appeared as if at some distance, and every moment getting further away!
I was about to spring up and seek an explanation of this strange phenomenon, when a wild cry came pealing across the water, followed by a confused noise of loud voices.
“We are saved!” thought I, “some ship is near!” and I actually shouted these words, as I sprang up from my recumbent attitude.
“Yes,” replied a voice, which I knew to be that of Brace, “we’re saved from them anyhow – yonder they go, the cowardly swabs! they don’t catch us, while this breeze lasts – that they don’t.”
To my astonishment I now perceived that Brace and I were alone; and, far in the shadowy darkness, I could just make out the white sail of the raft still scudding away before the breeze!
There was no mystery about it. Brace had cut the ropes that had bound our planks to the raft, and had silently permitted them to drop astern. That was what he had been doing with his knife!
Of course the wind, acting upon the sail, had soon carried the great raft far out of reach, and it was now several hundred yards to leeward of us. The darkness had prevented any of the crew from noting what was passing; but they had at length discovered our escape, as their wild shouts and angry vociferations testified. We could hear them calling us by name, at the same time uttering threats and cries of disappointed rage.
“Don’t fear them any more,” coolly remarked my companion, “can’t reach us with that slow craft – we can row faster than they can swim. But best make sure, however – the farther we’re from ’em the better – lay hold, lad! here’s an oar for you – pull with all your might!”
I took the oar as my companion directed, and commenced rowing. I saw that Brace had another oar – which he had managed to bring away from the raft – and under the two blades our little craft was propelled rapidly through the water. Of course we rowed right into the wind’s eye – for by so doing we took the opposite direction to that in which the crew was carried.
For a long time we continued to hear their wild, hoarse cries behind us; but the voices grew fainter and fainter, as the raft drifted to leeward; and at length we could hear them no more.
We rowed on till morning light; and then resting from our toil, we stood up, and scanned the surface of the sea.
There was no sail in sight – no object of any kind.
The raft had disappeared behind the convex swell of the water; – we were alone upon the ocean!
Reader! I might describe other scenes of peril, through which my brave companion and I passed, before that joyful hour, when our eyes rested upon the white sails of a ship – a strong, fine ship that lifted us from the bosom of the ocean, and carried us once more to land – ay, even to our native land. I shall not weary you with the details. Suffice it to say, that we were rescued – else how could I be living to tell the tale?
Yes – I still live, and so does my companion – both of us still follow the sea, but no longer under the rule of an arbitrary tyrant such as the captain of the Pandora. No! we are both captains ourselves – I of an East Indiaman; and Ben the master – and part owner, too – of a fine barque in the African trade – a barque quite equal to the Pandora.
But not that African trade – no. My old friend is an honest dealer. His merchandise is not black men, but yellow gold-dust, white ivory, palm-oil, and ostrich plumes; and after each “trip” to the African coast, Ben – as I have been given to understand – makes a “trip” to the Bank of England, and there deposits a very considerable sum of money. I rejoice in his prosperity, and I have no doubt that you, reader, will do the same.
We are not ignorant of the fate of the slaver’s crew. Not one of them, either those in the gig or on the raft, ever again saw the shore. They perished upon the face of the wide ocean – miserably perished, without hand to help or eye to weep over them. No eye beheld them but that of the Omnipotent – no hand but His was near; and it was near – for it was the hand of God that avenged their victims!
