Mr. Midshipman Easy by Frederick Marryat (reading tree .TXT) đź“–
- Author: Frederick Marryat
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“That’s very fine-very beautiful, upon my soul!”
“He cares for nothing,” thought Gascoigne; “he appears to have no idea of danger.”
“Now, my dear fellow,” said Gascoigne, “in a few minutes we shall be on the rocks. I must continue at the helm, for the higher she is forced up the better chance for us; but we may not meet again, so if we do not, good-bye and God bless you.”
“Gascoigne,” said Jack, “you are hurt, and I am not; your shoulder is stiff, and you can hardly move your left arm. Now I can steer for the rocks as well as you. Do you go to the bow, and there you will have a better chance-By-the-bye,” continued he, picking up his pistols, and sticking them into his waist, “I won’t leave them, they’ve served us too good a turn already. Gascoigne, give me the helm.”
“No, no, Easy.”
“I say yes,” replied Jack, in a loud, authoritative tone, “and what’s more, I will be obeyed, Gascoigne. I have nerve, if I haven’t knowledge, and at all events I can steer for the beach. I tell you, give me the helm. Well, then, if you won’t, I must take it.”
Easy wrested the tiller from Gascoigne’s hand, and gave him a shove forward.
“Now do you look out ahead, and tell me how to steer.”
Whatever may have been Gascoigne’s feelings at this behaviour of our hero’s, it immediately occurred to him that he could not do better than to run the speronare to the safest point, and that therefore he was probably more advantageously employed than if he were at the helm. He went forward and looked at the rocks, covered at one moment with the tumultuous waters, and then pouring down cascades from their sides as the waves recoiled. He perceived a chasm right ahead, and he thought if the boat was steered for that, she must be thrown up so as to enable them to get clear of her, for, at every other part, escape appeared impossible.
“Starboard a little-that’ll do. Steady-port it is-port.-Steer small, for your life, Easy. Steady now-mind the yard don’t hit your head-hold on.”
The speronare was at this moment thrown into a large cleft in a rock, the sides of which were nearly perpendicular; nothing else could have saved them, as, had they struck the rock outside, the boat would have been dashed to pieces, and its fragments have disappeared in the undertow. As it was, the cleft was not four feet more than the width of the boat, and as the waves hurled her up into it, the yard of the speronare was thrown fore and aft with great violence, and had not Jack been warned, he would have been struck overboard without a chance of being saved; but he crouched down and it passed over him. As the water receded, the boat struck, and was nearly dry between the rocks, but another wave followed, dashing the boat further up, but, at the same time, filling it with water. The bow of the boat was now several feet higher than the stem, where Jack held on; and the weight of the water in her, with the force of the returning waves, separated her right across abaft the mast. Jack perceived that the after part of the boat was going out again with the wave; he caught hold of the yard which had swung fore and aft, and as he clung to it, the part of the boat on which he had stood disappeared from under him, and was swept away by the returning current.
Jack required the utmost of his strength to maintain his position until another wave floated him, and dashed him higher up: but he knew his life depended on holding on to the yard, which he did, although under water, and advanced several feet. When the wave receded, he found footing on the rock, and still clinging, he walked till he had gained the fore part of the boat, which was wedged firmly into a narrow part of the cleft. The next wave was not very large, and he had gained so much that it did not throw him off his legs. He reached the rock, and as he climbed up the side of the chasm to gain the ledge above, he perceived Gascoigne standing above him, and holding out his hand to his assistance.
“Well,” says Jack, shaking himself to get rid of the water, “here we are ashore, at last-I had no idea of anything like this. The rush back of the water was so strong that it has almost tom my arms out of their sockets. How very lucky I sent you forward with your disabled shoulder! By-the-bye, now that it’s all over, and you must see that I was right, I beg to apologise for my rudeness.”
“There needs no apology for saving my life, Easy,” replied Gascoigne, trembling with the cold; “and no one but you would ever have thought of making one at such a moment.”
“I wonder whether the ammunition’s dry,” said Jack; “I put it all in my hat.”
Jack took off his hat, and found the cartridges had not suffered.
“Now, then, Gascoigne, what shall we do?”
“I hardly know,” replied Gascoigne.
“Suppose then, we sit down and argue the point.”
“No, I thank you, there will be too much cold water thrown upon our arguments-I’m half dead; let us walk on.”
“With all my heart,” said Jack, “it’s devilish steep, but I can argue up hill or down hill, wet or dry-I’m used to it-for, as I told you before, Ned, my father is a philosopher, and so am I.”
“By the Lord! you are,” replied Gascoigne, as he walked on.
In which our hero follows his destiny and forms a tableau.
OUR HERO and his comrade climbed the precipice, and, after some minutes’ severe toil, arrived at the summit, when they sat down to recover themselves. The sky was clear, although the gale blew strong. They had an extensive view of the coast, lashed by the angry waves.
“It’s my opinion, Ned,” said Jack, as he surveyed the expanse of troubled water, “that we’re just as well out of that.”
“I agree with you, Jack; but it’s also my opinion that we should be just as well out of this, for the wind blows through one. Suppose we go a little further inland, where we may find some shelter till the morning.”
“It’s rather dark to find anything,” rejoined our hero; “but however, a westerly gale on the top of a mountain with wet clothes in the middle of the night, with nothing to eat or drink, is not the most comfortable position in the world, and we may change for the better.”
They proceeded over a flat of a hundred yards, and then descended -the change in the atmosphere was immediate. As they continued their march inland, they came to a high road, which appeared to run along the shore, and they turned into it; for, as Jack said very truly, a road must lead to something. After a quarter of an hour’s walk, they again heard the rolling of the surf, and perceived the white walls of houses.
“Here we are at last,” said Jack. “I wonder if any one will turn out to take us in, or shall we stow away for the night in one of those vessels hauled up on the beach?”
“Recollect this time, Easy,” said Gascoigne, “not to show your money; that is, show only a dollar, and say you have no more; or promise to pay when we arrive at Palermo; and if they will neither trust us, nor give to us, we must make it out as we can.”
“How the cursed dogs bark! I think we shall do very well this time, Gascoigne; we do not look as if we were worth robbing, at all events, and we have the pistols to defend ourselves with if we are attacked. Depend upon it I will show no more gold. And now let us make our arrangements. Take you one pistol and take half the gold-I have it all in my right-hand pocket-my dollars and pistarenes in my left. You shall take half of them too. We have silver enough to go on with till we are in a safe place.”
Jack then divided the money in the dark, and also gave Gascoigne a pistol.
“Now, then, shall we knock for admittance? - Let’s first walk through the village, and see if there’s anything like an inn. Those yelping curs will soon be at our heels; they come nearer and nearer every time. There’s a cart, and it’s full of straw-suppose we go to bed till tomorrow morning-we shall be warm, at all events.”
“Yes,” replied Gascoigne, “and sleep much better than in any of the cottages. I have been in Sicily before, and you have no idea how the fleas bite.”
Our two midshipmen climbed up into the cart, nestled themselves into the straw, or rather Indian corn leaves, and were soon fast asleep. As they had not slept for two nights, it is not to be wondered at that they slept soundly so soundly, indeed, that about two hours after they had got into their comfortable bed, the peasant, who had brought to the village some casks of wine to be shipped and taken down the coast in a felucca, yoked his bullocks, and not being aware of his freight, drove off, without in any way disturbing their repose, although the roads in Sicily are not yet macadamised.
The jolting of the roads rather increased than disturbed the sleep of our adventurers; and, although there were some rude shocks, it only had the effect of making them fancy in their dreams that they were again in the boat, and that she was still dashing against the rocks. In about two hours, the cart arrived at its destination-the peasant unyoked his bullocks and led them away. The same cause will often produce contrary effects: the stopping of the motion of the cart disturbed the rest of our two midshipmen; they turned round in the straw, yawned, spread out their arms, and then awoke. Gascoigne, who felt considerable pain in his shoulder, was the first to recall his scattered senses.
“Easy,” cried he, as he sat up and shook off the corn leaves.
“Port it is,” said Jack, half dreaming.
“Come, Easy, you are not on board now. Rouse and bit.”
Jack then sat up and looked at Gascoigne. The forage in the cart was so high round them that they could not see above it; they rubbed their eyes, yawned, and looked at each other.
“Have you any faith in dreams?” said Jack to Gascoigne, “because I had a very queer one last night.”
“Well, so had I,” replied Gascoigne. “I dreamt that the cart rolled by itself into the sea, and went away with us right in the wind’s eye back to Malta; and considering that it never was built for such service, she behaved uncommonly well. Now, what was your dream?”
“Mine was, that we woke up and found ourselves in the very town from which the speronare had sailed, and that they had found the fore part of the speronare among the rocks, had recognised her, and picked up one of our pistols. That they had laid hold of us, and had insisted that we had been thrown on shore in the boat, and asked us what had become of the crew-they were just seizing us, when I awoke.”
“Your dream is more likely to come true than mine, Easy; but still I think we need not fear that. At the same time, we had better not remain here any longer; and it occurs to me, that if we tore our clothes more, it would
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