My numerous pursuits, as I stated in a preceding chapter obliging me to
constant occupation, kept me from useless repining about my destiny, in
being obliged to live so many years on this far-distant corner of the
earth, I had long ceased to look for passing ships--I scarcely ever
thought about them, and had given up all speculations about my
grandfather's reception of me. I rarely went out to sea, except to
fish, and never cared to trouble myself about anything beyond the
limited space which had become my inheritance.
The reader, then, may judge of my surprise when, one sultry day, I had
been busily engaged for several hours cutting down a field of wheat,
Mrs Reichardt came running to me with the astounding news that there
was a ship off the island, and a boat full of people had just left her,
and were rowing towards the rocks. I hastily took the glass she had
brought with her, and as soon as I could get to a convenient position,
threw myself on the ground on the rock, and reconnoitred through the
glass the appearance of the new comers.
I soon noticed that a part were well armed, which was not the case with
the rest, for they were pinioned in such a manner that they could
scarcely move hand or foot. We concealed ourselves by lying our lengths
on the grass. As the boat approached, I could discern that the unarmed
party belonged to a superior class of men, while many of the others had
countenances that did not prepossess me at all in their favour.
We lay hid in the long grass, from which we could command a view of our
approaching visitors.
"I think I understand this," whispered Mrs Reichardt. "There is
mischief here."
"Had I not better run home and get arms?" I asked.
"No," she replied, "you had better not. If we are able to do any good,
we must do it by stratagem. Let us watch their movements, and act with
great caution."
My companion's advice was, I saw, the wisest that could be pursued; and
therefore we remained in our hiding places, narrowly observing our
visitors as they approached. They entered the fishing-pool, and I could
then distinctly not only see but hear them. To my extreme surprise, one
of the first men who jumped out of the boat was John Gough, who had
brought Mrs Reichardt to the island. He looked older, but I recognised
him in a moment, and so did my companion. Her admonitory "Hush!" kept
me from betraying the place of our concealment--so great was my
astonishment--having long believed him and all his lawless associates
to have been lost at sea.
He was well armed, and evidently possessed some authority;
nevertheless, I thought I could detect an air of concern in his
features, as he offered to help one of the captives out of the boat.
The latter, however, regarded him with an air of disdain, and, though
his hands were tied behind him, leaped ashore without assistance. He
was a man of commanding stature, with a well bronzed face, and a look
of great energy of character. He wore a band of gold lace round his
cap, and had on duck trousers, and a blue jacket and waistcoat.
"Come, captain!" exclaimed John Gough, "I bear you no malice. Though
you have been rather hard upon us, we won't leave you to starve."
"He's a deuced deal better off than he desarves to be," cried a man
from the boat, whom I at once recognised as the fellow on whom I had
drawn my knife for hurting Nero. "If we had made him walk the plank, as
I proposed, I'm blowed if it wouldn't have been much more to the
purpose than putting him on this here island, with lots o' prog, and
everything calkilated to make him and his domineering officers
comfortable for the rest of their days."
"Hold your tongue, you mutineering rascal," exclaimed the captain
angrily. "A rope's end at the yard-arm will be your deserts before
long."
"Thank ye kindly, captain," replied the fellow, touching his hat in
mockery. "But you must be pleased to remember I ain't caught yet; and
we means to have many a jolly cruise in your ship, and get no end o'
treasure, before I shall think o' my latter end; and then I means to
die like a Christian, and repent o' my sins, and make a much more
edifying example than I should exhibit dangling at the end of a rope."
The men laughed, the captain muttered something about "pirates and
mutineers," but the rest of the officers wisely held their tongues.
I now noticed an elderly man of very respectable appearance, who was
not pinioned like the rest. His hair was quite white, his complexion
very pale, and he looked like one oppressed with deep sorrow and
anxiety. He rose from his seat in the boat, and was assisted out by
John Gough.
"I'm very sorry that we are obliged to leave you here, Mr Evelyn," said
Gough, "but you see, sir, we have no alternative. We couldn't keep you
with us, for many reasons; and therefore we have been obliged to make
you a sharer in the fate of our officers."
"And werry painful this is to our feelings, sir, you may believe," said
another of the mutineers mockingly. "I'm quite moloncholy as I thinks
on it."
The men again laughed; but the person so addressed walked to the side
of the captain without making any observation. The other captives also
left the boat in silence. They were eight in all, but four of them were
evidently common seamen by their dress--the others were officers. All
were well-made, strong men.
"What a precious pretty colony you'll make, my hearties!" exclaimed one
of the mutineers, jeeringly, as he helped to land a cask, and some
other packages, that they had brought with them. "It's a thousand
pities you ain't got no female associates, that you might marry, and
settle, and bring up respectable families."
"Talking of women," cried the one who had first spoken, "I wonder what
became of the one we left here so cleverly when we was wrecked at this
here place six years ago."
John Gough looked uneasy at this inquiry, as if the recollection was
not agreeable to him.
"And the Little Savage," continued the fellow, "what was agoing to send
his knife into my ribs for summat or other--I forget what. They must
have died long ago, I ain't no doubt, as we unfortnitely left 'em
nothin' to live upon."
"No doubt they died hand in hand, like the Babes in the Wood," said
another.
I still observed John Gough; he seemed distressed at the turn the
conversation had taken.
"Now, mates," he said hurriedly, "let us return to the ship. We have
done what we came to do."
"I votes as we shall go and see arter the Missionary's woman and the
Little Savage," cried the fourth. "I should like, somehow, to see
whether they be living or not, and a stroll ashore won't do any on us
any harm."
"I shall remain here till you return," said John Gough; and he threw
himself on the grass with his back towards me, and only a few yards
from the place in which we were concealed. The rest, after making fast
the boat, started off on an exploring expedition, in the direction of
the old hut.