Freaks on the Fells - Robert Michael Ballantyne (best books to read in your 20s txt) 📗

water all round, and ricochetted over me. Before they could reload I was almost beyond range, for the gale was freshening every moment, and the canvas spread was enough almost to tear the masts out of the ship. The water hissed as she flew over the heaving waves, and in a few minutes I felt that I was _free_.

Oh the feeling of wild delight that filled me when I realised this! I lashed the helm amidships, and ran down below to tell Jack what I had done. He was asleep. By a powerful effort I restrained myself, and did not disturb him. Then I rushed on deck. My brain seemed on fire. I shouted, laughed, and sang, and wept, until I began to feel a terrible sensation of dread lest I should go mad. But this, instead of calming me, caused me to dance and sing and shout the more. A burning thirst came upon me. I ran to the water-cask and drank till I could drink no more. I was refreshed; but soon the fever returned fiercer than ever. I was mad! I knew it; I felt it; but I did not care. I saw that the storm increased; this caused me to shout again with joy at the thought that I was so quickly borne away from the scene of butchery, and from the fiends in human form with whom I had so lately associated.

The gale burst in all its fury upon us. The sails were new and strong; the ship plunged into the waves, a green billow swept in-board and burst in fury on the deck, carrying away boats and loose spars. I yelled with delight, and plunged into the brine that lashed the deck from stem to stern. I heard a noise overhead; but was so confused that I could not understand what it was. As I gazed, there came a terrific blast. The mainsail split from top to bottom. The topsails burst and were blown to ribbons. At the same moment, I received a violent blow on the head.

After that, all was darkness and oblivion.


STORY TWO, CHAPTER 6.

When consciousness returned to me I found myself lying on my back on the deck of a vessel, surrounded and propped up by pillows; and Jack Brown sitting beside me reading a book.

I felt a curious sensation of weakness and emptiness in my head--as if it were hollow, and a strange disinclination, almost inability, to speak or think. Suddenly this passed away, and the events which I have related in the previous chapters rushed back upon my memory with vivid power.

"It must have been a dream," I thought, "or I must have been ill and delirious, and these things have passed through my fevered brain."

At that moment the thought of Jack's amputated leg came into my head. "That will prove it," thought I, and turned quickly to look at my friend. One glance was sufficient--a wooden stump occupied the place of his right leg. I groaned aloud and burst into tears.

"Come, Bob," said Jack in a soft, kind tone, laying down his book and bending over me. "Come, my poor fellow, keep quiet. It's about time you had your dinner. Lie still and I'll fetch it to you."

I laid my hand on his arm and detained him. "Then it's all true," said I in a tone of the deepest despondency.

"Is what all true?"

"This--this horrible--your leg; your leg--"

Jack suddenly stooped and gazed earnestly into my face. "Do you know me, Bob?" He trembled as he spoke.

"Know you, Jack! why should I not know you? When did I ever forget you?"

"Thank God!" he exclaimed fervently, taking my hand and pressing it to his breast. "You're all right again. Oh, how I have longed and prayed for this."

"All right, Jack. Have I been wrong, then?"

"That you have just," said Jack, smiling sadly. "You've just been as mad as a March hare, that's all!"

I fell flat down and gazed at him. In a minute more I raised myself on one elbow, and, looking at him earnestly, said, "How long, Jack?"

"Just three weeks to-day."

I fell flat down again, in which position Jack left me to go and fetch me some dinner. He returned quickly with a plate of soup. Before commencing to eat it I pressed my hand on my forehead, and said--

"Jack, I am surrounded by mysteries. How got you so soon well? Where got you that wooden leg? How are we here alone? Where are we going? Clear up my faculties, Jack, while I eat this soup--do, like a good fellow."

"I can easily do that, Bob. First, I got well because you took care of me."

"What! I?"

"Yes, you! At the commencement of your madness you tended me and cared for me as if you had been my mother. When you got to lose all `method in your madness' I was well enough to take care of myself and you too. Secondly, I found this wooden leg in the carpenter's berth, and gladly availed myself of its services, though it _is_ three inches too short, and causes me to hobble in a most undignified manner. Thirdly, we are here alone because there is no one else with us. You took good care of that by cutting the ropes before any of our crew could get aboard--so you told me just before you went mad."

"Oh! I remember now! I recollect it all. Go on."

"Fourthly, as to where we are going, I don't know. Our compass was smashed to pieces in the fight, and I've been running for the last three weeks right before the wind. So now you know all, and as you've finished your soup I'll go and get you a lump of boiled junk."

"Don't," said I, rising and shaking myself. "I've dined. I feel quite strong. I don't feel a bit as if I had been ill. Hallo! what land is that?"

Jack started and gazed at it with surprise. He had evidently not known that we were in the neighbourhood of land. A dense fog-bank had concealed it from us. Now that it cleared away it revealed to our gaze a stretch of yellow sand, backed by the lofty blue hills of the interior, and from the palm-trees that I could make out distinctly I judged that we must have been making for the tropical regions during the last three weeks.

Yet here again mystery surrounded me. How was it possible that we should have reached the tropics in so short a time? While I was puzzling over this question, the greatest mystery of all occurred to us. If I were not conscientiously relating events exactly as they occurred, I should expect my readers to doubt my veracity here.

As we were sailing smoothly along, our ship, without any apparent cause, began to sink. She went down gradually, but quickly--inch by inch-- until the water was on a level with the decks. We struck no rock! we did not cease to advance towards the shore! I fancied that we must certainly have sprung a leak; but there had been no sound of a plank starting, and there was no noise of water rushing into the hold. I could not imagine what had occurred, but I had not much time for thought. We could do nothing to avert the catastrophe. It occurred so suddenly that we were both rendered mute and helpless. We stood gazing at the water as it crept over the deck without making the slightest effort to save ourselves.

At length the water reached the hatchway and poured in a roaring cataract into the hold. The vessel filled, gave a heavy lurch to port, a species of tremor passed through her frame as if she was a living thing and knew that her hour had come, then she went down in a whirlpool, leaving Jack and me struggling in the sea.

We were both good swimmers, so that we did not experience much alarm, especially when we felt that the sea was comparatively warm; we struck out for the shore, and, being the better swimmer of the two, I took the lead.

But now to our horror we found that we were followed by sharks!

No sooner did we observe this than we struck out with all the energy of terror. We never swam as we did on that occasion. It seemed to me quite miraculous. The water burst from our breasts in foam, and we left long white tracks behind us as we clove our way through the water like two boats. It was awful. I shall never forget my feelings on that occasion: they were indescribable--inconceivable!

We were about a quarter of a mile from a point of rocks when our ship sank. In an incredibly short space of time we were close on the rocks. Being several yards ahead of Jack, I was the first to clamber up, my heart fluttering with fear, yet filled with deep gratitude for my deliverance. I turned to help Jack. He was yet six yards from shore, when a dreadful shark made a rush at him.

"Oh! quick! quick!" I screamed.

He was panting and straining like a lion. Another moment and his hand would have been in mine, but at that moment I beheld the double rows of horrid teeth close upon him. He uttered a piercing shriek, and there was an indescribably horrible _scrunch_ as he went down. In a moment after, he re-appeared, and making a last frightful effort to gain the rocks, caught my hand. I dragged him out of danger instantly, and then I found, to my unutterable joy, that the shark had only bitten off the half of his wooden leg!

Embracing each other fervently, we sat down in the rocks to rest and collect our thoughts.


STORY TWO, CHAPTER 7.

I have often found, from experience, that the more one tries to collect one's thoughts, the more one's thoughts pertinaciously scatter themselves abroad, almost beyond the possibility of discovery. Such was the case with me, after escaping from the sea and the sharks, as related circumstantially in the last chapter. Perhaps the truth of this may best be illustrated by laying before my readers the dialogue that ensued between me and Jack on the momentous occasion referred to, as follows:--

_Jack_. "I say, Bob, where in all the world have we got to?"

_Bob_. "Upon my word, I don't know."

_Jack_. "It's very mysterious."

_Bob_. "What's very mysterious?"

_Jack_. "Where we've got to. Can't you guess?"

_Bob_. "Certainly. Suppose I say Lapland?"

_Jack_. (Shaking his head), "Won't do."

_Bob_. "Why?"

_Jack_. "'Cause there are no palm-trees in Lapland."

_Bob_. "Dear me, that's true. How confused my head is! I'll tell you what it is, Jack, I can't think. _That's it_--that's the cause of the mystery that seems to beset me, I can't tell how; and then I've been ill--that's it too."

_Jack_.