MAROONED.
It is impossible for me to describe the blank astonishment, or rather
the intense consternation, of our men on the disappearance of this
vessel, which was the object of so many hopes and wishes.
Some time elapsed before the poor fellows rallied sufficiently to
speak on the subject; and meanwhile, there flashed upon my memory,
some strange and weird old Celtic tales, which a Highland boy at Eton
was wont to tell us, of ships which in the days of Ossian, traversed
the steep hills and the salt lochs of Morven with equal facility.
"It is a ship--or rather the representation of a veritable
ship--which cannot be far off the island, and is making for it at
this moment," said Hislop, emphatically.
"How far off do you think she is, sir?" asked Hugh Chute, mockingly.
"Perhaps twenty miles--perhaps a hundred--it is impossible to say."
"Perhaps ten thousand?" queried Tom Lambourne, with great irritation.
"It was the ship of the Flying Dutchman!" said Probart, the carpenter.
"I've seen many a queer thing in my time, but never the like of this
before!" exclaimed Carlton.
"Though foul weather don't matter much to us here, it will be sure to
follow;--so I say, mates," resumed Probart, "it was the Flying
Dutchman and nought else!"
"Vanderdecken or the devil come for Antonio," added Ned Carlton; "and
whether he has shipped aboard that craft or not, hang me shipmates,
if we should stay another hour on the island with it, or with him, or
where such things are seen."
"Yes, yes," said all the rest; "let us take to the long-boat again,
and sheer off."
"For where?" asked Hislop, coming forward.
"Anywhere," replied Lambourne, sulkily.
"Stuff! You must hang on by the island, or it will be the worse for
you," responded the wary mate.
"How will it be worse for us?" asked Probart.
"In more ways than one."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. And moreover, it is my orders."
"Lookee, now, Master Hislop," said Henry Warren, our oldest seaman,
with great gravity, "in everything that is reasonable, I have obeyed
you, and I will still obey you all the same as if the deck of the
_Eugenie_ was under our feet, and the blue water round us; but as for
living on this here 'chanted island for a longer spell, with a
murdering villain like the Spaniard Antonio, who can make ships sail
on sea and land alike, for all the world like pictures in a lantern
or a penny show, is more than flesh and blood can bear; so I say,
mates, let us embark all our provisions, set sail, clap dry nippers
on our oars, and make out Gough's Island, or Tristan da Cunha,
leaving the devil and Antonio to keep company here as long as they
please--and that is likely to be long enough, I can tell you."
"Tristan da Cunha can't be above three hundred miles off," added
Probart; and the proposition met with such universal approbation,
that Marc Hislop became seriously alarmed.
He begged the crew to listen to him; but they did so with evident
reluctance and impatience, muttering the while, and twitching their
hats and trousers.
He said every thing he could think of to assure them that the ship
they had seen was quite an optical illusion; and his arguments,
though they might have been convincing enough to the old Dominican
friar, Antonio Minasi, who thrice saw the Fata Morgana in the Straits
of Messina, or to Sir David Brewster, they totally failed to assure
Tattooed Tom, old Probart our carpenter, Jack Burnet the cook, and
others, that it was merely a natural phenomenon, to be accounted for
through some form of dioptrical refraction, by means of which a ship
sailing on one part of the ocean might be reflected on _another_, or,
as we had just seen, even on the land itself.
"I assure you, my lads," he continued, "she was the representation of
a vessel now under sail elsewhere. You all saw that the sea and bay
were calm as glass, that the ship was braced sharp to the wind, with
her port tacks aboard, while we had none, not even a catspaw on the
water, or a leaf stirring on shore. You saw that she careened, as if
beneath its influence, and rose and fell as if running through a
heavy sea. You saw the cabin lights go out, and the flying-jib
hoisted. Thus it was quite evident that by something indescribable
in the state of the atmosphere, her form and motions were taken up
elsewhere, and mirrored _here_."
"I don't understand all this fine talk," said Tom Lambourne, sulkily,
"and I don't care if I never do. I ain't a scholar, but a
hardworking foremast-man, that has seen every land under the sun. So
by your leave, or without it, we shall make the long-boat ready for
sea. Come, my lads; we shall fill the watercasks at the spring
yonder, and get what remains in the bread bags, with all the other
stuff we've collected, aboard."
"Hurrah!" cried the crew, "hurrah for blue water!"
"Get the mast stepped, and all the gear ready; we'll be at sea in an
hour, or my name ain't Tattooed Tom Lambourne."
"Rodney," said Hislop, turning to me, bitterly, "Goethe says that
painting and tattooing are natural symptoms--the savage hankering
after the brute--and faith, I begin to think so."
Old Tom Lambourne only half understood the remark; but it stung him
deeply.
"I don't deserve this at your hands, Master Hislop," said he; "and it
ain't manly to upbraid a poor fellow with his misfortunes when
shipwrecked among savages, and I tell you so--for all your
book-learning," he added, bitterly.
"You are right, Tom, and I am wrong. Pardon me, old ship-mate," said
Hislop, as they shook hands.
So thoroughly were our companions scared by the recent spectral
appearance, which they connected in some way with the dreadful
character of Antonio el Cubano, that they at once commenced with
alacrity the preparations for putting to sea.
It may be that somewhat of the professional restlessness of sailors
confirmed their resolution.
They were already tired of their sojourn on the island, and inspired
by the desire of reaching Tristan da Cunha, which is inhabited by
about eighty families of Portuguese, English, and mulattoes, among
whom Hislop assured them they might linger long enough before they
were taken off by a passing ship--quite as long as if they remained
on the Isle of Alphonso--and where, for subsistence, they would be
forced to work as day laborers in the savannas and on the highways.
As for the Island of Diego Alvarez, our Scotch mate, who seemed to
know every thing, assured them that it produced only moss and
sea-grass, and that if cast there they would die of starvation.
Moreover, without chart or compass, how could they hope to steer with
certainty in any direction?
They might all perish in detail by the most dreadful deaths in their
open boat, gasping with unquenched thirst under the blaze of a
tropical sun. He said much more; but they would listen to nothing
save their own fears and restless impulses.
I, too, was weary of the island; and though feeling all the
despondency that follows a severe disappointment on the disappearance
of the illusory ship, I in no way shared the wild and ill-regulated
wishes of the crew, though assured that I would be compelled to
follow their desperate fortunes.
Hislop made a last effort to convince them that all they had seen was
only the reflection of a real object produced by natural causes, such
as the dead calm that prevailed upon the sea--the moon shining from a
point where its incident ray formed an angle of 45° on the water--the
influence of saline and other effluvia suspended in the air,
producing, as in a catoptric theatre, a vision by reflection; but
finding that they heeded all this no more than the wind, he fairly
lost his temper, and bade them "go and be hanged for stupid dolts."
It was perfectly natural that all this should sound strange to
unlettered seamen; so they continued their preparations with all
speed and in silence, for they all loved Hislop, and were loth to
offend him.
Two bags of bread which still remained, the kegs of rum, and four
casks newly filled with fresh water, were put on board the longboat,
together with all our arduously collected store of kids' flesh,
boars' hams, and sea-fowls' eggs.
The oars, boat tackle, and blankets were also shipped, and the whole
crew embarked at the mangrove creek, where the boat lay.
Hislop and I still lingered; so we were told peremptorily that if we
did not come on board at once, they would shove off without us. Thus
compelled, we stepped in most reluctantly and seated ourselves in the
stern, and he assumed the tiller. The oars were run through the
row-locks, and Lambourne was about to shove off, when Probart, who
had the bow oar, suddenly remembered that he had left his hatchet
near our wigwam, and asked me to get it.
I jumped ashore, and was proceeding along the beach for it, when
suddenly I was confronted by Antonio, who from a thicket had been
watching our operations and departure.
His tawny skin--for he was naked to the waist--his ferocious aspect,
his head of matted hair, his colossal strength, and atrocious
character were not without a due effect upon the boat's crew at this
crisis.
"Shove off--shove off!" I heard several voices cry in the boat; "here
comes that dog of a Cubano."
I struggled with Antonio; but he laughed loudly, and drew his pistol
with the air of one who would enforce obedience; besides, his eyes,
which the tangled masses of his hair overhung, were flashing with
malignant fire, as all the slumbering devil was roused within him.
The whole crew saw this, and I perceived that Marc Hislop made an
attempt to rise up and spring overboard to my succor; but as all
their hopes of reaching Tristan da Cunha depended entirely upon his
skill and knowledge of navigation, he was seized by Warren, Chute,
and others, roughly thrust down in the stern sheets, and forcibly
held there.
I saw now that the fear and selfishness of the rest prevailed over
all that Hislop, Lambourne, and Carlton could urge; for amid a storm
of contending tongues, I perceived the oars dipping in the water
again and again, and flashing like silver blades in the moonlight as
they were feathered; and the longboat with all my companions, shot
from the creek into the bay, and bore away to seaward about two in
the morning, leaving me on the beach alone--_marooned_ with the
fiendish Cubano!