The Coral Island - Robert Michael Ballantyne (little readers txt) 📗

of his pistol over

the touch-hole and fired. The shot was succeeded by the hiss of

the cannon’s priming, then the blaze and the crashing thunder of

the monstrous gun burst upon the savages with such deafening roar

that it seemed as if their very mountains had been rent asunder.

 

This was enough. The moment of surprise and hesitation caused by

the unwonted sound, gave us time to pass the point; a gentle

breeze, which the dense foliage had hitherto prevented us from

feeling, bulged out our sails; the schooner bent before it, and the

shouts of the disappointed savages grew fainter and fainter in the

distance as we were slowly wafted out to sea.

 

CHAPTER XXVII.

 

Reflections - The wounded man - The squall - True consolation -

Death.

 

THERE is a power of endurance in human beings, both in their bodies

and in their minds, which, I have often thought, seems to be

wonderfully adapted and exactly proportioned to the circumstances

in which individuals may happen to be placed, - a power which, in

most cases, is sufficient to carry a man through and over every

obstacle that may happen to be thrown in his path through life, no

matter how high or how steep the mountain may be, but which often

forsakes him the moment the summit is gained, the point of

difficulty passed; and leaves him prostrated, with energies gone,

nerves unstrung, and a feeling of incapacity pervading the entire

frame that renders the most trifling effort almost impossible.

 

During the greater part of that day I had been subjected to severe

mental and much physical excitement, which had almost crushed me

down by the time I was relieved from duty in the course of the

evening. But when the expedition, whose failure has just been

narrated, was planned, my anxieties and energies had been so

powerfully aroused that I went through the protracted scenes of

that terrible night without a feeling of the slightest fatigue. My

mind and body were alike active and full of energy. No sooner was

the last thrilling fear of danger past, however, than my faculties

were utterly relaxed; and, when I felt the cool breezes of the

Pacific playing around my fevered brow, and heard the free waves

rippling at the schooner’s prow, as we left the hated island behind

us, my senses forsook me and I fell in a swoon upon the deck.

 

From this state I was quickly aroused by Bill, who shook me by the

arm, saying, -

 

“Hallo! Ralph, boy, rouse up, lad, we’re safe now. Poor thing, I

believe he’s fainted.” And raising me in his arms he laid me on

the folds of the gaff-top-sail, which lay upon the deck near the

tiller. “Here, take a drop o’ this, it’ll do you good, my boy,” he

added, in a voice of tenderness which I had never heard him use

before, while he held a brandy-flask to my lips.

 

I raised my eyes gratefully, as I swallowed a mouthful; next moment

my head sank heavily upon my arm and I fell fast asleep. I slept

long, for when I awoke the sun was a good way above the horizon. I

did not move on first opening my eyes, as I felt a delightful

sensation of rest pervading me, and my eyes were riveted on and

charmed with the gorgeous splendour of the mighty ocean, that burst

upon my sight. It was a dead calm; the sea seemed a sheet of

undulating crystal, tipped and streaked with the saffron hues of

sunrise, which had not yet merged into the glowing heat of noon;

and there was a deep calm in the blue dome above, that was not

broken even by the usual flutter of the sea-fowl. How long I would

have lain in contemplation of this peaceful scene I know not, but

my mind was recalled suddenly and painfully to the past and the

present by the sight of Bill, who was seated on the deck at my feet

with his head reclining, as if in sleep, on his right arm, which

rested on the tiller. As he seemed to rest peacefully I did not

mean to disturb him, but the slight noise I made in raising myself

on my elbow caused him to start and look round.

 

“Well, Ralph, awake at last, my boy; you have slept long and

soundly,” he said, turning towards me.

 

On beholding his countenance I sprang up in anxiety. He was deadly

pale, and his hair, which hung in dishevelled locks over his face,

was clotted with blood. Blood also stained his hollow cheeks and

covered the front of his shirt, which, with the greater part of

dress, was torn and soiled with mud.

 

“Oh, Bill!” said I, with deep anxiety, “what is the matter with

you? You are ill. You must have been wounded.”

 

“Even so, lad,” said Bill in a deep soft voice, while he extended

his huge frame on the couch from which I had just risen. “I’ve got

an ugly wound, I fear, and I’ve been waiting for you to waken, to

ask you to get me a drop o’ brandy and a mouthful o’ bread from the

cabin lockers. You seemed to sleep so sweetly, Ralph, that I

didn’t like to disturb you. But I don’t feel up to much just now.”

 

I did not wait till he had done talking, but ran below immediately,

and returned in a few seconds with a bottle of brandy and some

broken biscuit. He seemed much refreshed after eating a few

morsels and drinking a long draught of water mingled with a little

of the spirits. Immediately afterwards he fell asleep, and I

watched him anxiously until he awoke, being desirous of knowing the

nature and extent of his wound.

 

“Ha!” he exclaimed, on awaking suddenly, after a slumber of an

hour, “I’m the better of that nap, Ralph; I feel twice the man I

was;” and he attempted to rise, but sank back again immediately

with a deep groan.

 

“Nay, Bill you must not move, but lie still while I look at your

wound. I’ll make a comfortable bed for you here on deck, and get

you some breakfast. After that you shall tell me how you got it.

Cheer up, Bill,” I added, seeing that he turned his head away;

“you’ll be all right in a little, and I’ll be a capital nurse to

you though I’m no doctor.”

 

I then left him, and lighted a fire in the caboose. While it was

kindling, I went to the steward’s pantry and procured the materials

for a good breakfast, with which, in little more than half an hour,

I returned to my companion. He seemed much better, and smiled

kindly on me as I set before him a cup of coffee and a tray with

several eggs and some bread on it.

 

“Now then, Bill,” said I, cheerfully, sitting down beside him on

the deck, “let’s fall to. I’m very hungry myself, I can tell you;

but - I forgot - your wound,” I added, rising; “let me look at it.”

 

I found that the wound was caused by a pistol shot in the chest.

It did not bleed much, and, as it was on the right side, I was in

hopes that it might not be very serious. But Bill shook his head.

“However,” said he, “sit down, Ralph, and I’ll tell you all about

it.”

 

“You see, after we left the boat an’ began to push through the

bushes, we went straight for the line of my musket, as I had

expected; but by some unlucky chance it didn’t explode, for I saw

the line torn away by the men’s legs, and heard the click o’ the

lock; so I fancy the priming had got damp and didn’t catch. I was

in a great quandary now what to do, for I couldn’t concoct in my

mind, in the hurry, any good reason for firin’ off my piece. But

they say necessity’s the mother of invention; so, just as I was

givin’ it up and clinchin’ my teeth to bide the worst o’t, and take

what should come, a sudden thought came into my head. I stepped

out before the rest, seemin’ to be awful anxious to be at the

savages, tripped my foot on a fallen tree, plunged head foremost

into a bush, an’, ov coorse, my carbine exploded! Then came such a

screechin’ from the camp as I never heard in all my life. I rose

at once, and was rushin’ on with the rest when the captain called a

halt.

 

“‘You did that a-purpose, you villain!’ he said, with a tremendous

oath, and, drawin’ a pistol from his belt, let fly right into my

breast. I fell at once, and remembered no more till I was startled

and brought round by the most awful yell I ever heard in my life,

except, maybe, the shrieks o’ them poor critters that were crushed

to death under yon big canoe. Jumpin’ up, I looked round, and,

through the trees, saw a fire gleamin’ not far off, the light o’

which showed me the captain and men tied hand and foot, each to a

post, and the savages dancin’ round them like demons. I had scarce

looked for a second, when I saw one o’ them go up to the captain

flourishing a knife, and, before I could wink, he plunged it into

his breast, while another yell, like the one that roused me, rang

upon my ear. I didn’t wait for more, but, bounding up, went

crashing through the bushes into the woods. The black fellows

caught sight of me, however, but not in time to prevent me jumpin’

into the boat, as you know.”

 

Bill seemed to be much exhausted after this recital, and shuddered

frequently during the narrative, so I refrained from continuing the

subject at that time, and endeavoured to draw his mind to other

things.

 

“But now, Bill,” said I, “it behoves us to think about the future,

and what course of action we shall pursue. Here we are, on the

wide Pacific, in a well-appointed schooner, which is our own, - at

least no one has a better claim to it than we have, - and the world

lies before us. Moreover, here comes a breeze, so we must make up

our minds which way to steer.”

 

“Ralph, boy,” said my companion, “it matters not to me which way we

go. I fear that my time is short now. Go where you will. I’m

content.”

 

“Well then, Bill, I think we had better steer to the Coral Island,

and see what has become of my dear old comrades, Jack and Peterkin.

I believe the island has no name, but the captain once pointed it

out to me on the chart, and I marked it afterwards; so, as we know

pretty well our position just now, I think I can steer to it.

Then, as to working the vessel, it is true I cannot hoist the sails

single-handed, but luckily we have enough of sail set already, and

if it should come on to blow a squall, I could at least drop the

peaks of the main and fore sails, and clew them up partially

without help, and throw her head close into the wind, so as to keep

her all shaking till the violence of the squall is past. And if we

have continued light breezes, I’ll rig up a complication of blocks

and fix them to the topsail halyards, so that I shall be able to

hoist the sails without help. ‘Tis true I’ll require half a day to

hoist them, but we don’t need to mind that. Then I’ll make a sort

of erection