Kitabı oku: «The Island of Gold: A Sailor's Yarn», sayfa 7
“‘They should keep out o’ the way, then, when people are dancing.’
“The hours sped quickly by, as they always do in a ballroom, and by the time James and I got on board the Sea Flower four bells in the middle-watch were ringing out through the still, dark night. But all was safe and quiet on board.
“I took a turn on deck to enjoy a cigar before going below, just by way of cooling my brow. When I went down at last, why, there was James seated at the table, his mother’s Bible before him, and, as usual, the awful specs across his nose.
“Poor James, he was a strange man, but a sincere friend, as the sequel will show.”
Book Two – Chapter Five.
“Till the Sea Gives up its Dead.”
From Madeira, where we stayed for many days, going on shore every forenoon to sell some of our cargo to the shopkeepers, and every afternoon for a long ride – horse and hammock – over some part or other of this island of enchantment, sometimes finishing up with a dance – from all this pleasure and delight, I say, we sailed away at last.
“South and away we sailed, and in due time we reached and anchored off Saint James’s Town, Saint Helena.
“Now, Saint Helena had not figured in our programme when we left Merry England. But here we were, and a most delightful place I found it. Hills and dells, mountains and glens; wild flowers everywhere; and the blue eternal sea dotted with many a snow-white sail, engirdling all. This, then, was the ‘lonely sterile rock in the midst of the wild tempestuous ocean,’ to which Napoleon had been banished.
“James had been here before, although I had not, so everything was of interest to me, and everything new. And my good mate determined to make it as pleasant for me as possible. He seemed to know every one, and every one appeared delighted to see him. Such remarks as the following fell upon our ears at every corner: —
“‘Well, you’ve got back again, James?’
“‘What! here you are once more, James, and welcome.’
“‘Dee – lighted to see you, certain – lee!’
“‘Ah! Jeames,’ – this from a very aged crone, who was seated on a stone dais near her door, basking in the warm, white sunshine – ‘ah! Jeames, and sure the Lord is good to me. And my old eyes are blessed once more wi’ a sight o’ your kindly face!’
“‘Glad to see you alive, Frilda. And look, I have got a pound of tea for you. And I’ll come to-night and read a bit out of my mother’s Good Book to you.’
“‘Bless you, Jeames – bless you, my boy.’
“We went rambling all over the island that day. We visited the fort, where James had many friends; then we went up a beautiful glen, and on reaching the top we struck straight off at right angles, and a walk of about half a mile took us to one of the most pleasantly situated farms I have ever seen. It was owned by the farmer, a Scotsman of the name of MacDonald. Nothing flimsy about this fine house. The walls were built of sturdy stone, and must have been some feet thick, so that indoors in the cheerful parlour it was cool and delightful, especially so with the odour of orange blossom blowing through the open window and pervading the whole room.
“‘Man, James, I’m so pleased. Here! Hi! Mrs Mac, where are you? Here’s James Malone, the honest, simple sumph come back again. Jamie, man, ye must stop all night and give us a song.’
“‘We – ll – I – ’
“‘No wells nor I’s about it. And your friend here too.’
“Mrs Mac was a very little body, with rosy cheeks, a merry voice, and blue eyes that looked you through and through.
“A little girl and boy came running in, and James soon had one on each knee; and while I and MacDonald talked in the window recess, he was deep in the mysteries of a mermaid story, his tiny audience listening with wondering eyes and rosy lips apart.
“Mrs Mac had gone bustling away to send in a dram of hollands, cunningly flavoured with seeds and fruit rind. She disappeared immediately again, to send orders down to James’s Town for fish and fowl.
“Of course we would stay all night?
“‘Well,’ I said, ‘the ship is safe, unless a tornado blows.’
“‘There will be no tornado, sir,’ said Farmer Mac.
“‘I’ll send off, then, and tell the second mate.’
“‘My henchman is at your service, Captain Halcott.’
“‘And look, see,’ cried James, ‘just tell your henchman to bring my Good Book and specs. I haven’t the heart to disappoint old Mother Banks.’
“‘And the guitar,’ I added.
“‘Well – well, yes.’
“The children clapped their hands with glee, and Maggie, the girl, pulled James’s face towards her by the whiskers and kissed him.
“We started next for Longwood and Napoleon’s tomb. Maggie and Jack – ten and nine years old respectively – came with us, and a right pleasant day we spent. There were bright-winged birds flitting hither and thither in the dazzling sunshine, and singing sweet and low in trees of darkest green; but the happy voices of the children made sweeter music far to my ears, and I’m sure to James’s too.
“All along the roadsides at some parts grew the tall cacti; they were one mass of gorgeous crimson bloom, and here and there between, the ground was carpeted with trailing blossoms white and blue; yet, in my opinion, the laughing rosebud lips of Maggie and Jack’s saucy eyes of blue were prettier far than the flowers.
“And here, on the top of the dingle or glen, and overlooking the sea, were Napoleon’s house and garden.
“‘Why, James,’ I cried, ‘this isn’t a dungeon any more than Saint Helena is a rock. It strikes me – a simple sailor – that Nap must have had fine times of it.’
“‘No, sir, no,’ said James, shaking his head. ‘Plenty to eat and drink, plenty o’ good clothes to wear, but ah! Charles Halcott, he wasn’t free, and there burned inside him an unquenchable fire. When in action, on the field, or on the march, he had little time to think; but here, in this solitude, the seared conscience regained its softness, and in his thoughts by day and in his dreams at the dead hours o’ night, Charles Halcott, rose visions of the terrible misery he brought on Europe, and the black and awful deeds he did in Egypt. O sir, if you want to punish a man, leave him alone to his conscience!’
“James Malone was in fine form that evening at Farmer Mac’s. He sang and he yarned time about – the songs for the children, the yarns for us. Parodying Tam o’ Shanter, I might say: —
“‘The nicht drave on wi’ sangs and clatter,
Wi’ childish glee, wi’ bairnies’ patter;
The sailor tauld his queerest stories,
The farmer’s laugh was ready chorus;
Till, hark! the clock strikes in the hall
The wee short oor ayont the twal.’
“Before dinner that evening simple James had gone to see old Mother Banks, and he spent a whole hour with her.
“‘Good-bye, dear laddie,’ she said, when he rose to leave; ‘I’ll pray for ye on the ragin’ sea, but I know the Lord will never let me behold ye again.’
“And simple James’s eyes were wet with tears as he held her skinny hand for a moment, then dropped it and bore away up the street, never once looking back, so full was his heart.
“When the clock struck one, James shyly proposed a few moments’ devotion. Then he mounted the awful specs and opened the Good Book.
“Half an hour after this, all in the great house were asleep, and not a sound could I hear – for I lay long awake thinking – save the sighing of the wind in the trees above my open jalousies, to me a very sweet and soothing sound.
“‘Heigho!’ I murmured to myself. ‘Will I ever have a home on the green earth, I wonder, or shall I die on the blue sea?’
“Then I began to doze, and mingling with my waking thoughts came dreams which proved that poor James’s prescriptions had not yet been entirely successful.
“Just three weeks after this we were far away in the centre of the South Atlantic Ocean, and bearing up for Rio de Janeiro. The sea around us was of the darkest blue, but sparkling in the sunshine, and there was just sufficient wind to gladden the heart of a sailor.
“What induced James and me to change our plans and sail west instead of south and east, I never could tell, though I have often thought about it. A friend of mine says it was Fate, and that Fate often rules the destinies of men, despite all that can be done to alter her plans and intentions. This line of reasoning may be right; my friend is so often right that I daresay it must be.
“But one thing now occurred to me that at times rendered me rather uneasy, and which, when I tried to describe it to James, caused that honest sailor some anxiety also. I have spoken of it more than once to so-called psychologists and even to so-called mediums; but their attempted explanations, although seemingly satisfactory enough to themselves, sounded to me like a mere chaos of words, the meaning of which as a whole I never could fathom. But the mystery with me was this: I seemed at times to be possessed of a second self, or rather, a second soul.
“I struggled against the feeling all I could, but in vain. James read his mother’s Bible to me, and otherwise, not in a spiritual way, he did all he could to cheer me up, as he phrased it. But – and here comes in the most curious part of it – I did not feel that I wanted any cheering up. I was happy enough in the companionship of my second self. This was not always present. Sometimes absent for days indeed, and never as yet did it talk to me in my dreams. At other times it came, and would be with me for hours; and it spoke to my mind as it were, I being compelled to carry on a conversation, in thought, of course, but never once did I have any notion beforehand as to what the remarks made were to be. They were simple in the extreme, and usually had reference to the working or guidance of the ship, the setting or shortening of sail, and making the good barque snug for the night.
“We called at Rio. The harbour here could contain all the war fleets in the world; grand old hills; a city as romantic as Edinburgh – that is, when seen from the sea – quaintness of streets, a wealth and beauty of vegetation, of treescape and flowerscape, that I have never seen equalled anywhere, and a quaintly dressed, quiet, and indolent people.
“We landed much stores here and filled up with others. On the whole, James and I were not sorry we had come, we drove such excellent bargains.
“Again, at Buenos Ayres, with its fine streets and public buildings, and its miles upon miles of shallow sea all in front, we did trade enough to please us.
“‘When I retire from sailing the salt seas, sir,’ said James, ‘it’s ’ere and nowhere else I’m goin’ to make my ’ome; and I only wish the old lady were livin’, for then I’d retire after the very next voyage.’
“Shortly after resuming our voyage southwards towards the stormy Cape Horn, we encountered gale after gale of wind that taxed all the strength of our brave barque, as well as the skill of the officers and seamen. Again and again had we to lie to for long dark days and nights; and when we ventured to run before the storm, we had literally to stagger along under bare poles.
“But when we reached the Cape at last, and stood away to the west around the bleak and inhospitable shores of Tierra del Fuego, or the Land of Fire, never before in all the years I had been to sea had I encountered weather so fearful or waves so high and dangerous. So stormy, indeed, did it continue, that hardly did either James or I dare to hope we should ever double the Cape. But we both had a sailor’s aversion to turning back, and so struggled on and on.
“The danger seemed to culminate and the crisis come in earnest, when one weird moonlight midnight we suddenly found ourselves bows on to a huge iceberg, or rather one vast island of ice that appeared to have no horizon either towards the north or towards the south. The barrier presented seemed impassable. We could only try, so we put about on the port tack, the wind blowing there with great violence from the west and north.
“This course took us well off the great ice island. It took us southwards, moreover.
“‘But why not steer northwards?’ said James. ‘We’d have to tack a bit, it is true, only we’d be lessening our danger; leastways that’s my opinion. This berg may be twenty or thirty miles long, and every mile brings us closer to great bergs that, down yonder, float in dozens. Before now, Charles Halcott, I’ve seen a ship sunk in the twinkling of a marling-spike by a – ’
“‘By striking against a berg, James?’ I interrupted. ‘So have I.’
“‘No, sir, no; you’re on the wrong tack. Wherever big bergs are there are small ones too – little, hard, green lumps of ice, not bigger than the wheel-house, that to hit bows on would scarcely spill your tea. But, friend, it is different where there are mountain seas on. These little green bergs are caught by a wave-top and hurled against the ship’s side with the strength of a thousand Titans. And – the ship goes down.’
“There was something almost solemn in the manner James brought out the last four words. It kept me silent for minutes; and shading my eyes with my hand, I kept peering southwards into the weird-like moonshine, the ice away on the right, a strange white haze to leeward, and far ahead the foam-tipped waves, wild-maned horses of the ocean, careering along on their awful course.
“‘James,’ I said at last, ‘danger or not danger, southwards I steer. Something tells me to do so; everything bids me. “Steer south – steer south,” chimes the bell when it strikes; “steer south,” ticks the clock. James Malone, my very heart’s pulse repeats the words; and I hear them mournfully sung by the very waves themselves, and by the wind that goes moaning through the rigging. And – I’m going to obey.’
“For nights I had hardly slept a wink, but now I felt as if slumber would soon visit my pillow if I but threw myself on the bed. The moon, a full round one, was already declining in the west when I went below and turned in all standing, and in three minutes’ time I had sunk into a deep and dreamless sleep.
“James told me afterwards that it had taken him one long minute of solid shaking and shouting to arouse me, but he succeeded at last.
“‘Anything wrong, James?’ I said anxiously, as I sat up in my cot.
“‘Can’t say as there’s anything radically wrong, sir,’ he replied slowly. ‘Leastways, our ship’s all right. Wind and sea have both gone down. We’ve doubled the berg at last, and a good forty mile she was, and now we’re nearing another. But the strange thing is this, sir. There is men on it, a-waving their coats and things, and makin’ signs. I can just raise ’em with our Mons Meg glass.’
“‘Some natives of Tierra del Fuego, perhaps,’ I said. ‘Anyhow, James,’ I added, ‘keep bearing up towards them.’
“‘Ay, ay, sir.’
“In ten minutes’ time I was on deck, glass in hand.
“It was a grey uncertain morning, the sun just rising astern of us, and tingeing the wave-tops with a yellow glare.
“I could see the people on the ice with the naked eye. But I steadied Mons Meg on the bulwark, and had a look through that.
“‘Mercy on us, James!’ I cried, ‘these are no savages, but our own countrymen or Americans. I can count five alive, and oh, James, three lie at some little distance stretched out dark and stiff. Shake another reef out – those people want us. A sad story will be theirs to tell.’
“We got them all on board at last, though with difficulty, for the surf was beating high above the snow-clad ice, and twice our boat was dashed against the hard, green edge of the monster berg, her timbers cracking ominously. We brought off the dead too, and buried them in a Christian way, James himself reading over them the beautiful service of the English Church. Though they were strangers to us, yet, as their bodies dropped down into the darkling sea, many a tear was shed that our fellows scarce took pains to hide.
“‘And there they’ll sleep,’ said a voice behind me, ‘till the sea gives up its dead.’
“I turned slowly round, and the eyes of the speaker met mine. Hitherto I had paid most attention to the lifeless, and scarce had noticed the living.
“But now a strange thrill went through me as this man, who was the skipper of the lost ship, advanced with a sad kind of smile on his face and held out his hand.
“‘We have met before,’ he said.
“‘We seem to have met before,’ I answered falteringly, ‘but where I cannot tell. Perhaps you – ’
“‘Yes, I can; I have seen you in a dream. We must both have dreamt.’
“I staggered as if shot, and pressed my hand to my brow.
“‘You seem puzzled,’ he continued, ‘yet I am not. I am a man who has studied science somewhat. I am often called a visionary on account of my theories, yet I am convinced that there are times when, in answer to prayer, the mind during sleep may be permitted to leave the body. You, sir, have saved the few poor fellows of my ship’s crew who have escaped death, and I thank you. Think nothing strange, sir, in this world simply because you do not understand it. But you have an errand of mercy yet to perform. Heaven grant you may be as successful in that as you have been in taking our poor helpless men from off the ice.’
“‘Come below,’ I said, ‘Captain – a – ’
“‘Smithson,’ he put in.
“‘Come below, Captain Smithson, and tell your story. James, will you bear us company?’
“I and James sat on one side of the table, our guest, with his thin, worn face and dark eyes that seemed to pierce us with their very earnestness, on the other. He told his story rapidly – ran over it, as it were, as a school-boy does something he has learned by heart.
“‘It is but little more than five weeks since the good yacht Windward cleared away from San Francisco – ’
“‘James,’ I said, interrupting him, ‘how long have we been at sea?’
“‘Wellnigh four months, sir.’
“‘How the time has flown! Pray, sir, proceed.’
“‘I have never known a quicker passage than we had. The wind was fair all the way, and our little craft appeared to fly with it. But it fell dead calm about the latitude of 20 degrees south of the line. My only passengers – in fact, it was they who had chartered the Windward to take them to Monte Video – a lady and her daughter, began to be very uneasy now. They had heard so much about the fleetness of the Windward that they never expected a hitch. No wonder they were uneasy. Their business in Monte Video was a matter of life or death. The doctor there had assured them that if they were not out by a certain time, the husband and father would never again be seen by them alive.
“‘But the calm was not of long duration. Worse was to come – a tornado burst upon us with awful fury, and all but sunk us. We were carried far to the west out of our course. Fierce gales succeeded the tempest; and when the wind once more sank to rest we found ourselves surrounded by a group of islands that, although I have sailed the South Pacific for many a long year, I had never seen before.
“‘That the natives of the largest and most beautiful of these islands are savages and man-hunters I have not the slightest doubt. The king himself came off, evincing not the slightest fear of us; but both he and his people remained so strangely pacific that it excited our suspicions for a time. We were glad, however, to be able here to repair damages and to take on board fresh water; and the kindness of the natives was so marked that our suspicions were entirely lulled, and for days we lived almost among them, even going on shore unarmed in the most friendly way.
“‘I must tell you, sir, that, owing to the heat and closeness of the atmosphere, a screen-berth or tent had been rigged for the ladies close to the bulwark on the port side, and almost abreast of the main-mast. The first part of the night of the tenth was exceedingly dark, and it was also hot and sultry. The ladies had retired early, for a thunderstorm that had been threatening about sunset broke over us with tropical fury about ten by the clock, or four bells – the first watch.
“‘And now, sir, comes the mystery. The moon rose at twelve and silvered all the sea, shedding its earth light upon the green-wooded hills of the mainland till everything looked ethereal. Not a sound was to be heard, except now and then the plaintive cry of a sea bird, and the dull, low moan of the breakers on the coral sand.
“‘As was her custom just before turning in, the ladies’ maid drew aside their curtain to see if they wanted anything, and to say good-night.
“‘I was walking the quarterdeck smoking, when pale and scared she rushed toward me.
“‘Oh!’ she almost screamed, ‘they are gone! The ladies have gone!’
“‘No one thought of turning in that dreadful night; and when in the morning the sun, red and flaming, leapt out of the sea, arming a boat as well as I could, I rowed on shore and demanded audience of the king.
“‘But we were not allowed to land. The savages had assumed a very different attitude now, and a shower of spears was our welcome. One poor fellow was killed outright, another died of his wounds only an hour afterwards. In fact, we were beaten off; and in an hour’s time, observing a whole fleet of boats coming off to attack our vessel, we were forced to hoist sail and fly.
“‘That is my story, and a sad one it is. I was on my way to the nearest town to seek assistance, when our vessel was crushed in the ice and sank in less than twenty minutes, with all on board except those you have seen.’
“Smithson was silent now. With his chin resting on his hand he sat there looking downwards at the deck, but apparently seeing nothing. For many minutes not a word was spoken by any one. The vessel rose and fell on the long, rolling seas; there was the creak of the rudder chains; there was occasionally the flapping of a sail; all else was still.
“James Malone was the first to speak.
“‘Charles Halcott,’ he said – and I think I hear the earnest, manly tones of his voice at this moment – ‘Charles Halcott, we have a duty to perform, and it leads us to the northward and west.’
“I stood up now, and our hands met and clasped.
“‘James Malone,’ I replied, ‘Heaven helping us, we will perform that duty faithfully and well.’
“‘Amen, sir! Amen!’”
