Chapter 15 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
It is very probable I should have longed in vain—very probable I should not have been allowed to set foot upon the shore, but for my protector Brace. My work was still that of the swab and mop, and shoe-brush, and I was kept closely employed at such “chores” from morning to night. The others were permitted to go ashore almost at their pleasure—except during their working-hours, and then they were back and forward several times in the day, unloading the cargo of rum, and salt, and iron, that was forthwith delivered up to King Dingo Bingo.
I endeavoured several times to go with them in the boat, but was always repulsed by some one, usually by the mate or captain himself.
Every day as the sun rose over the glistening tree-tops, tinging their rich verdure with hues of gold, I sighed for liberty, and I would have given aught I possessed, to have been allowed to roam freely through those bright woods. Only one who has been for months cooped up within the confined boundaries of a ship, until tired to death of its monotonous life, can have any idea of the intense longings that I experienced. I was even worse off than one who may have been thus situated. I was not only cooped up but ill-treated. I was not only a prisoner, but a slave, harshly used, and thoroughly disgusted both with my master and associates. If but for a single hour, therefore, I would have made any sacrifice to have been permitted to take a stroll in yonder wild woods, that on both sides of the river stretched away as far as the eye could reach, for I had viewed them from the royal-mast-head, and saw that they were interminable.
I cannot tell why the captain and mate were so opposed to my going ashore. It might be that they were suspicious of me, and feared I might run away from the ship. Knowing the harsh treatment to which they were in the habit of submitting me, it is not strange they should suspect me of such an intention. My position could hardly be worse, even among savages; and, therefore, it was natural enough they should have their fears of my leaving them.
They had no desire to part with me on such terms. I had proved of great service to them in the capacity of cabin-boy and attendant; and they found my services very convenient. Though they would have cared little for drowning me, or knocking me on the head, to gratify a whim of their own, they would have been sadly grieved had I succeeded in running away from them; and, evidently suspecting that I might harbour such an intention, they took care that I should not have the slightest opportunity of carrying it out. I was not permitted, therefore, to set my foot in any of the boats that were constantly going and coming between the ship and the shore.
There was one other of the Pandora’s crew who was dealt with in a similar manner, and this was poor “Dutchy”, as the sailors called him. They might well suspect him of a design to run away. Bad as was the treatment I received, it was humane and civil when compared with the almost continuous cruelty practised upon the Dutchman; and instinct itself should have prompted him to flee from it at the very first opportunity that offered.
Unfortunately, instinct had this very effect; or rather, I might say, human flesh and blood could stand it no longer; and Dutchy determined to desert. I say unfortunately, for the attempt proved a failure, and had an awful termination. It ended in the death of this poor sailor—a death that was hideous and appalling.
I shall relate the incident in a few words:—
A few days after coming to anchor Dutchy had communicated to me his intention of deserting from the ship. He had made me his confidant, in hopes that I might join him in the enterprise—for the poor fellow knew there was not another on board who had ever spoken to him a word of sympathy. This I had done, and, consequently, had won his regard. He knew, moreover, that I, too was a persecuted victim; and, therefore, believed I might be as willing as himself to get away beyond the reach of the common tyrant. It is true I was so, but the advice of my patron Brace had rendered me content to wait for a better opportunity—to wait for our arrival upon the other side of the Atlantic. I had made up my mind to endure till then; knowing that a voyage from the west coast of Africa to the Brazils, the destination of the Pandora, would be but a few weeks in duration, and confident, from what Brace had promised me, that there I should part from the hated crew.
For these reasons I refused to accede to Dutchy’s proposal, and endeavoured to dissuade him from his design; advising him also to wait for our arrival on the other side.
My counsels proved vain. Flesh and blood could stand it no longer. The poor fellow had been persecuted to the utmost limit of endurance, until he could endure no more; and, under the impulse of despair, he made his fatal attempt.
One night, when nearly all on board were asleep, a plunge was heard close by the side of the vessel, as of some one who had fallen or leaped into the water. The cry of “a man overboard!” was heard from the few who were awake on the watch; and echoed from mouth to mouth, till the sleepers—most of whom were on deck in their hammocks—were aroused.
The night was almost as clear as day—for there was a full round moon in the heavens; and up to this time there had been perfect stillness and silence. The men, wondering who had gone overboard, rushed to the side, and looked into the water. A small, black object above the surface indicated the head of a man. It was in motion, and a slight plashing noise, with the long ripple made upon the water, showed that some one was in the river and swimming with all his might for the shore.
Perhaps some one had seen poor Dutchy as he made this fatal plunge, for at that moment the cry was given out that it was he who was endeavouring to escape.
Both mate and captain were on the alert. On account of the heat they, too, had been sleeping in hammocks swung over the quarter-deck, and in a moment they had sprung out upon their feet. Both ran to arm themselves; and before the deserter had made half-way to the bank his tyrants were leaning over the side, each grasping a loaded musket.
Either would have been in good time to have sent a bullet through the unfortunate victim; but though his blood was to be on their heads, it was not destined that he should die by their hands.
Before either had time to take aim, a second ripple was observed in the water—running diagonally to that made by the swimmer—and at the head of this ripple, and causing it, was seen a long dark, monster-like form.
“A crocodile! a crocodile!” shouted the men upon the barque.
Both captain and mate held their fire, and lowered their muskets. They saw that the work would be done as well without them; and I am positive that I perceived at that moment a grim smile of satisfaction on the faces of both!
“Poor Dutchy!” cried a voice, “he’ll never reach the bank! It’s all up with him—he’ll be swallowed whole, bones, body and all. See!”
It was almost literally as the man had predicted. As he uttered the final exclamation the dark monster—now within a few feet of its victim—made a rapid dash forward, its long, notched back rose high above the water; and seizing the swimmer between its strong, bony jaws, commenced dragging him under. A wild scream of agony pealed from the lips of the unfortunate man, that echoed afar into the surrounding woods; but before the echoes had died away, the monster with its victim had sunk beneath the surface; and a few bloodstained bubbles were all that remained to mark the spot where the terrible incident had occurred.
“Served him right!” vociferated the captain, with a fearful oath; “served him right, the good-for-nothing lumber—he’s not much loss, we can spare him, I dare say.”
“Ay, ay!” assented the mate, also with the embellishment of an oath, and then added:—
“A lesson to all runaways! If the son of a sea-cook had stayed where he was he’d have missed that; but if the fool likes better to be in the belly of a crocodile than the forecastle of a good ship, he’s had his choice. All I’ve got to say is, it’s a queer craft he’s chosen to ship aboard o’.”
The captain answered this sally with a horse laugh, in which he was joined by several of the unfeeling crew; and then both mate and captain, having restored their muskets to the rack, betook themselves once more to their hammocks and fell asleep. The sailors, grouping round the windlass, remained for awhile conversing upon the awful incidents that had transpired, but the tone of the conversation proved that the occurrence gave them but little concern. Some even laughed as they talked; and jests were uttered as to whether Dutchy had made a will, and who was to be heir to his “property.” As the poor fellow in reality possessed no property—his whole effects consisting of a few tattered rags of dress, a tin platter, with an old knife, fork, and spoon—the joke was all the more piquant, and the fellows laughed heartily at it.
It was finally agreed upon that they should “raffle” for Dutchy’s “kit” in the morning; and this point being settled, one by one dropped off, some to sleep in their bunks in the forecastle, and others upon the deck or in hammock slung to the spars and rigging.
All were soon asleep, and silence once more brooded over the scene. I alone could not sleep, but stood looking over the side of the vessel, my eyes fixed on the spot where the unfortunate man had been last seen. There was nothing to guide the eye—not a trace of the short, sanguinary struggle. The crimsoned froth had long since floated away, and the dark wafer flowed on without even a ripple upon its surface; but for all that I could still see with the eye of my fancy—that horrid picture—the hideous monster, with its victim grasped transversely between its horrid jaws, and I could still hear the scream of agony echoing far off in the woods.
Of course it was but fancy. There was no sound stirring even of wind or water. Above and around reigned an impressive stillness, as if Nature herself, by that dread event, had been awed into silence!