Kitabı oku: «The Boy Tar», sayfa 5

Chapter Twelve.
Hugging the Staff

Fortunately for me I had learnt to swim, and I was a tolerably good hand at it. It was the most useful accomplishment I could have possessed at that moment; and but for it I should have been drowned on the instant. Diving, too, I could do a little at, else the ducking I then received would have discomfited me a good deal; for I went quite to the bottom among the ugly black stones.

I stayed there not a moment longer than I could help, but mounted back to the surface like a duck; and then, rising upon the wave, looked around me. My object in so doing was to get sight of the signal-staff, and with the spray driving in my eyes this was not so easy. Just like a water-dog searching for some object in the water, I had to turn twice or thrice before I saw it; for I was uncertain in which direction to look for it, so completely had the sudden plunge blinded me and blunted my senses.

I got my eyes upon it at length; not within reach, as might have been expected; but many yards off, quite twenty, I should think! Wind and tide had been busy with me; and had I left them to themselves for ten minutes more, they would have carried me to a point from which I should never have been able to swim back.

As soon as I espied the post I struck directly for it – not indeed that I very clearly knew what I should do when I got there, but urged on with a sort of instinct that something might interfere in my favour. I was acting just as men act when in danger of being drowned. I was catching at straws. I need not say that I was cool: you would not believe me, nor would there be a word of truth in it, for I was far from cool in the moral sense of the word, whatever I might be personally and physically. On the contrary, I was frightened nearly out of my senses; and had just enough left to direct me back to the post, though this might only have been instinct. But no, something more than instinct; for I had at the same time a keen and rational sense of the unpleasant fact, that when I should arrive at the post, I might be not a bit nearer to safety. I had no fear about being able to reach the staff. I had confidence enough in my natatory powers to make me easy on that score. It was only when I thought of the little help I should find there, that my apprehensions were keen, and this I was thinking of all the while I was in the water.

I could easily have climbed the staff as far as the cask, but no farther. To get to the top was beyond my power; one of those difficulties which even the fear of death cannot overcome. I had tried it till I was tired of trying; in short, till I saw I could not do it. Could I only have accomplished that feat, I might have done so before, for I took it for granted that on that high perch I should have been safe, and the nine-gallon barrel would have been large enough to have given me a seat where I might without difficulty have weathered the storm.

Another reason there was why it would have been the best place for me. Had I succeeded in mounting up there before nightfall, some one upon the shore might have noticed me, and then the adventure would have ended without all this peril. I even thought at the time of those things, and while clambering up the shaft entertained hopes that some one might observe me. I afterwards learned that some one did – more than one – idlers along shore; but not knowing who it was, and very naturally believing that some Sabbath-breaking boys had gone out to the reef to amuse themselves – part of that amusement being to “swarm” up the signal-staff – I was set down as one of those, and no farther notice was taken of me.

I could not have continued to go up the staff. It speedily tired me out; besides, as soon as I perceived the necessity for erecting the platform, I needed every second of the time that was left me for that work.

All the above thoughts did not pass through my mind while I was in the water struggling back to the staff, though some of them did. I thought of the impossibility of climbing up above the barrel – that was clear to me; and I thought also of what I should do when I reached the post, and that was not clear to me. I should be able to lay hold upon the staff, as I had done before, but how I was to retain my hold was the unsolved problem. And it remained so, till I had got up and seized the staff, and indeed for a good while after.

Well, I reached the pole at length, after a great deal of buffetting, having the wind and tide, and even the rain in my teeth. But I reached it, and flung my arms around it as if it had been some dear old friend. Nor was it aught else. Had it not been for that brave stick, I might as well have stayed at the bottom.

Having clutched hold of it, I felt for some moments almost as if I had been saved. I experienced no great difficulty in keeping my limbs afloat so long as I had such a support for my arms, though the work was irksome enough.

Had the sea been perfectly calm I could have stood it for a long time; perhaps till the tide had gone out again, and this would have been all I could have desired. But the sea was not calm, and that altered the case. There had been a short lull with the smoother sea just as I returned to the staff, and even this was a fortunate circumstance, as it gave me time to rest and recover my breath.

Only a short respite it was, and then came wind and rain and rough seas – rougher than ever. I was first lifted up nearly to the barrel, and then let down again with a pitch, and then for some minutes was kept swinging about – the staff serving as a pivot – like some wonderful acrobat performing his feats in a gymnasium.

I withstood the first shock, and though it bowled me about, I held on manfully. I knew I was holding on for my life, and “needs must;” but I had slight reason to be satisfied. I felt how near it was to taking me, and I had gloomy forebodings about the result. Worse might come after, and I knew that a few struggles like this last would soon wear me out.

What, then, could I do that would enable me to hold on? In the interval between the great seas, this was my ruling thought. If I had only been possessed of a rope, I could have tied myself to the staff; but then a rope was as far away as a boat, or an easy chair by my uncle’s fireside. It was no use thinking of a rope, nor did I waste time in doing so; but just at that moment, as if some good spirit had put the idea into my head, I thought of something as good as a rope – a substitute. Yes, the very thing came up before my mind, as though Providence had guided me to think of it.

You are impatient to hear what it was. You shall hear.

Around my arms and shoulders I wore a garment familiarly known as a “cord jacket” – a roundabout of corduroy cloth, such as boys in the humbler ranks of life use to wear, or did when I was a boy. It was my everyday suit, and after my poor mother’s death it had come to be my Sunday wear as well. Let us say nothing to disparage this jacket. I have since then been generally a well-dressed man, and have worn broadcloth of the finest that West of England looms could produce; but all the wardrobe I ever had would not in one bundle weigh as much in my estimation as that corduroy jacket. I think I may say that I owe my life to it.

Well, the jacket chanced to have a good row of buttons upon it – not the common horn, or bone, or flimsy lead ones, such as are worn nowadays, but good, substantial metal buttons – as big as a shilling every way, and with strong iron eyes in them. Well was it for me they were so good and strong.

I had the jacket upon my person, and that, too, was a chance in my favour, for just as like I might not have had it on. When I started to overtake the boat, I had thrown off both jacket and trousers; but on my return from that expedition, and before I had got as badly scared as I became afterwards, I had drawn my clothes on again. The air had turned rather chilly all of a sudden, and this it was that influenced me to re-robe myself. All a piece of good fortune, as you will presently perceive.

What use, then, did I make of the jacket? Tear it up into strips, and with these tie myself to the staff? No. That might have been done, but it would have been rather a difficult performance for a person swimming in a rough sea, and having but one hand free to make a knot with. It would even have been out of my power to have taken the jacket off my body, for the wet corduroy was clinging to my skin as if it had been glued there. I did not do this, then; but I followed out a plan that served my purpose as well – perhaps better. I opened wide my jacket, laid my breast against the signal-staff, and, meeting the loose flaps on the other side, buttoned them from bottom to top.

Fortunately the jacket was wide enough to take in all. My uncle never did me a greater favour in his life – though I did not think so at the time – than when he made me wear an ugly corduroy jacket that was “miles too big” for me.

When the buttoning was finished, I had a moment to rest and reflect – the first for a long while.

So far as being washed away was concerned, I had no longer anything to fear. The post itself might go, but not without me, or I without it. From that time forward I was as much part of the signal-staff as the barrel at its top – indeed, more, I fancy – for a ship’s hawser would not have bound me faster to it than did the flaps of that strong corduroy.

Had the keeping close to the signal-staff been all that was wanted I should have done well enough, but, alas! I was not yet out of danger; and it was not long ere I perceived that my situation was but little improved. Another vast breaker came rolling over the reef, and washed quite over me. In fact, I began to think that I was worse fixed than ever; for in trying to fling myself upward as the wave rose, I found that my fastening impeded me, and hence the complete ducking that I received. When the wave passed on, I was still in my place; but what advantage would this be? I should soon be smothered by such repeated immersions. I should lose strength to hold up, and would then slide down to the bottom of the staff, and be drowned all the same – although it might be said that I had “died by the standard!”

Chapter Thirteen.
A State of “Suspense.”

I had not lost presence of mind as yet, but once more set about considering how I might be able to keep above water. I could easily slide up the staff without taking out a single button; but once up, how could I remain there? I should certainly come slipping down again. Oh! that there was only a notch – a knot – a nail – if I only had a knife to make a nick; but knot, notch, nail, knife, nick – all were alike denied me. Stay! I was wrong, decidedly wrong. I remembered just then that while attempting to get over the barrel, I had noticed that the staff just under it was smaller than elsewhere. It had been flanged off at the top, as if to make a point upon it, and upon this point was placed the barrel, or rather a portion of the top was inserted into the end of the barrel.

I remembered this narrow part. It formed a sort of ring or collar round the post. Was it likely that the protuberance would be large enough to make a hold for my jacket, and prevent it from slipping back? Likely or not, it was not the time to be nice about the choice of expedients. There was no choice: this or nothing.

Before another sea could reach me, I had “swarmed” up the pole. I tried the experiment. It would not do. I came sliding down again, sadder than I had gone up; and as soon as down, I was treated to “another sorrow of the same” – a fresh sea that ducked and drowned me as before.

The cause of my failure was that I could not get the collar of my jacket high enough. My head was in the way.

Up the pole again with a new thought. A fresh hope had arisen in my mind, as soon as I rose out of the waves; and this hope was that I might fasten something around the top, and to this something fasten myself.

But what was the something to be? I had also thought of that; and you shall hear what it was. I chanced to have upon my shoulders a pair of braces, and fortunately they were good ones – no pedlar’s stuff, but stout braces of buckskin leather. This was the something by which I intended to hang myself up.

I lost no time in trying. I had no desire to stay longer below than I could help, and I soon “speeled” up again. The jacket served a good purpose. It helped to stay me on the staff; and by pressing my back outward, and holding well with my feet, I could remain a good while without getting tired.

Placing myself in this attitude, I unloosed my braces. I acted with caution, notwithstanding my disagreeable plight. I took care not to drop them while knotting the two together; and I also took care to make the knot a firm one, as well as to waste only a very little of the precious length of the buckskin. I should need every inch of it.

Having got them both into one piece, I made a loop at the end, taking care that the post should be inside the loop. This done, I pushed the loop up till it was above the shoulder of the staff – right “chuck” up to the barrel – and then I drew it tight and close. It remained only to pass the other end through my buttoned jacket, and knot it round the cloth. This I managed after a little, and then lying back, tried it with my whole weight. I even let go with my feet, and hung suspended for a moment or two; and had any pilot just then have seen me through his night-glass, he could have had but one belief – that suicide or some terrible crime had been committed.

Over-wearied, half-drowned was I, and I will not say whether or not I laughed at the odd attitude in which I had placed myself; but I could have laughed, for from that moment I knew no further fear. I felt that I was delivered from death, as certainly as if I had seen Harry Blew and his boat rowing within ten yards of me. The storm might rage, rain fall, and wind blow; spray might pitch over and around me; but I was satisfied that I should be able to keep my position in spite of all.

True, it was far from being as comfortable as I might have wished it; but now that the peril was past I began to consider how I could improve it. My feet gave me the most trouble. Every now and then my legs exhibited a tendency to get tired and let go their hold, and then I dropped back to my hanging attitude again.

This was unpleasant and somewhat dangerous, but I did not allow it to vex me long. There was a cure for this, like everything else, and I soon discovered it. I split up the legs of my pantaloons quite to the knees – as good luck would have it they were corduroy like the jacket – and then taking the two long pieces that hung down, I gave them a twist or two, passed them round the post, and knotted them together on the opposite side. This furnished a rest for the lower half of my body; and thus, half sitting, half hanging, I passed the remainder of the night.

When I tell you that I saw the tide go out, and leave the rocks bare, you will think I surely released myself from my perch, and got down upon the reef. But I did nothing of the kind. I had no idea of trusting myself on those rocks again if I could help it.

I was not comfortable where I was, but still I could endure it for a while longer; and I feared to make any alteration in the premises lest I might have to use them again. Moreover, I knew that where I was I should very likely be seen from the shore as soon as the day broke, and then relief would be sure to be sent to me.

And it was sent, or came without any sending. Scarcely was the red Aurora above the water-line, when I perceived a boat making towards me with all speed; and as soon as it drew near, I saw, what I had guessed long before, that it was Harry Blew himself that was handling the oars.

I shall not tell you how Harry acted when he came up; how he laughed and shouted, and waved his oar-blade in the air; and then how kindly and gently he lowered me down, and laid me in his boat; and when I told him the whole story, and how his boat had gone to the bottom, instead of being angry with me, he only laughed, and said it was well it had been no worse; and from that day not a syllable of reproach ever passed his lips – not a word about the lost dinghy.

Chapter Fourteen.
For Peru – To-morrow!

Even this narrow escape had no effect. I was not more afraid of the water than ever; but rather liked it all the more on account of the very excitement which its dangers produced.

Very soon after I began to experience a longing to see foreign lands, and to travel over the great ocean itself. I never cast my eyes out upon the bay, that this yearning did not come over me; and when I saw ships with their white sails, far off upon the horizon, I used to think how happy they must be who were on board of them; and I would gladly have exchanged places with the hardest-working sailor among their crews.

Perhaps I might not have felt these longings so intensely had I been happy at home – that is, had I been living with a kind father and gentle mother; but my morose old uncle took little interest in me; and there being, therefore, no ties of filial affection to attach me to home, my longings had full play. I was compelled to do a good deal of work on the farm, and this was a sort of life for which I had no natural liking.

The drudgery only increased my desire to go abroad – to behold the wonderful scenes of which I had read in books, and of which I had received still more glowing accounts from sailors, who had once been fishermen in our village, and who occasionally returned to visit their native place. These used to tell us of lions, and tigers, and elephants, and crocodiles, and monkeys as big as men, and snakes as long as ships’ cables, until their exciting stories of the adventures they had experienced among such creatures filled me with an enthusiastic desire to see with my own eyes these rare animals, and to take part in the chasing and capturing of them as the sailors themselves had done. In short, I became very tired of the dull monotonous life which I was leading at home, and which I then supposed was peculiar to our own country; for, according to our sailor-visitors, in every other part of the world there was full store of stirring adventures, and wild animals, and strange scenes.

One young fellow, I remember, who had only been as far as the Isle of Man, brought back such accounts of his adventures among blacks and boa-constrictors, that I quite envied him the exciting sports he had there witnessed. Though, for certain reasons, I had been well schooled in writing and arithmetic, yet I had but a slight knowledge of geography, as it was not a prominent branch of study in our school. I could scarce tell, therefore, where the Isle of Man lay; but I resolved, the first opportunity that offered, that I should make a voyage to it, and see some of the wonderful sights of which the young fellow spoke.

Although this to me would have been a grand undertaking, yet I was not without hopes of being able to accomplish it. I knew that upon odd occasions a schooner traded from our port to this famed island, and I believed it possible, some time or other, to get a passage in her. It might not be so easy, but I was resolved to try what could be done. I had made up my mind to get on friendly terms with some of the sailors belonging to the schooner, and ask them to take me along with them on one of their trips.

While I was patiently waiting and watching for this opportunity an incident occurred that caused me to form new resolutions and drove the schooner and three-legged island quite out of my head.

About five miles from our little village, and further down the bay, stood a large town. It was a real seaport, and big ships came there – great three-masted vessels, that traded to all parts of the world, and carried immense cargoes of merchandise.

One day I chanced to have been sent there, along with a farm-servant of my uncle, who drove a cart full of farm produce which he was taking to the town for sale. I was sent to assist him, by holding the horse while he was engaged disposing of the contents of the cart.

It happened that the cart was drawn up near one of the wharves where the shipping lay, so that I had a fine opportunity of looking at the great leviathans of vessels moored along the quay, and admiring their tall slender masts and elegant rigging.

There was one ship directly opposite to us that particularly attracted my admiration. She was larger than any that was near, and her beautifully tapering masts rose higher by several feet than those of any other vessel in the port. But it was neither her superior size nor her more elegant proportions that fixed my attention so earnestly upon her, though these had at first attracted it. What rendered her so interesting in my eyes was the fact that she was about to sail very soon – upon the following day. This fact I learnt from a large board, which I saw fastened in a conspicuous place upon her rigging, and upon which I read the following: —

“The Inca– for Peru – To-morrow.”

My heart began to thump loudly against my ribs, as if some terrible danger was near, but it was only the emotion caused by the wild thoughts that rushed into my mind as I read the brief but stirring announcement – “For Peru, to-morrow.”

Quick as lightning ran my reflections, all having their origin in the question, self-asked: why cannot I start “for Peru, to-morrow?” Why not?

There were grand impediments, and many of them; I knew that, well enough. First, there was my uncle’s servant, who was by my side, and whose duty it was to take me home again. Of course, it would have been preposterous to have asked his consent to my going.

Secondly, there was the consent of the people of the ship to be obtained. I was not so innocent as to be ignorant of the fact, that a passage to Peru, or to any other part of the world, was a thing that cost a great deal of money; and that even little boys like myself would not be taken without paying.

As I had no money, or not so much as would have paid for a passage in a ferry-boat, of course this difficulty stared me in the face, very plainly. How was I to get passage?

As I have said, my reflections ran as quick as lightning, and before I had gazed for a dozen minutes upon that beautiful ship, the impediments, both of the passage-money and the guardianship of the farmer’s man, vanished from my thoughts; and I had come to the determination, with full belief in being able to carry it out, that I should start for Peru to-morrow.

In what part of the world Peru lay, I knew no more than the man in the moon; not near so much, since he has a good view of it on moonlight nights, and must know very well where it is. My school learning had extended no farther than to reading, writing, and arithmetic. In the last I was quite an adept, for our village teacher was rather clever at “ciphering,” and took great pride in proving his accomplishment, by communicating what he knew to his pupils. It was the leading branch of study in his school. Geography, however, had been neglected, almost untaught; and I knew not in what part of the world Peru lay, though I had heard that there was such a country.

The returned sailors already mentioned had spoken much about Peru – that it was a very hot country, and a very long way from England, a full six months’ voyage. I had heard, moreover, that it was a country of wonderful gold mines, and blacks, and snakes, and palm-trees; and this was enough for me. It was just the sort of place I desired to see. For Peru, then, was I bound, and in the good ship Inca.

My next reflection was how I should act – how get over the difficulty about the passage-money, and also escape from the guardianship of my friend “John,” the driver of the cart. The former would appear the greater dilemma, though in reality it was no such thing; at least, so I thought at the time. My reasons for thinking so were these: I had often heard of boys running away to sea – of their being accepted on board ships, and allowed to become boy-sailors and afterwards able seamen. I was under the impression that there was not much difficulty about the matter, and that almost any boy who was big enough and smart enough would be taken aboard, if he was but willing to work for it.

My only apprehension at the time was about my own bigness, or rather “littleness,” for I knew that I was still but a very small shaver – smaller even than my age would indicate – though I had a well-knit frame, and was tolerably tight and tough. I had some doubt, however, about my size, for I was often “twitted” with being such a very little fellow. I was fearful, therefore, that this might be an obstacle to my being taken as a boy-sailor; for I had really made up my mind to offer myself as such on board the Inca. With regard to “John,” my apprehensions were very great. On the first impulse, I thought of no other plan than to give him the slip, and leave him to go home without me. After a little reflection, I perceived that that course would never do. John would be back in the morning with half-a-dozen of his kind – and perhaps my uncle himself – in quest of me. They would most likely arrive before the ship should sail, for vessels rarely take their departure at an early hour in the morning. The bellman would raise the hue and cry. The whole town would be traversed, and perhaps the ship searched, where, of course, I should be found, delivered up, carried home, and, beyond doubt, severely whipped; for I knew my uncle’s disposition well enough to believe that that would most certainly be the wind-up of the adventure. No, no, it would never do to let John and his cart go home without me.

A little reflection convinced me of this, and at the same time helped me to resolve upon a better plan. The new resolve was to go back along with my guardian John, and then take my departure from home itself.

Without imparting aught of my design, or making John in any way my confidant, I mounted into the cart along with him, and rode back to the village. I reached home as quietly, and apparently as little concerned about anything that was passing in my mind, as when I left it in the morning.