[8] In the Comoro Islands, Mozambique Channel, off the Madagascar coast.
“Here,” thought I when we anchored, “is a quiet place for old Bill May
to die, happy that his last breath should not be drawn on a ship stolen
from his king and country.”
With some other sick ones I was put ashore on the beach at Joanna,
where they laid us out in a row under the trees, Mr. Every deputing a
few men to attend upon us. I was now quite helpless, remaining useless
of hands and feet and despairing of my life. In some peace we stayed
there all that night, but before noon of the next day three large ships
hove in sight--East Indiamen--and Mr. Every, in the greatest fright of
being surprised at the roadstead with half his crew ashore, ordered
all hands on board and to bring the water kegs and the sick with them.
They came with a great running and bustle to carry me away; but said I--
“Leave me here; I have no stomach to fight those three ships; I prefer
to lie here and trust myself to my fellow countrymen or to the mercy of
the island negroes.”
There being no time to confabulate, the men rushed for their boats
without more ado, and soon the _Charles the Second_ was hauled to the
wind and off like a hare before the hounds.
The Indiamen came to anchor and made a great business of bringing kegs
and barrels for water, boats plying between the shore and the ships. I
purposed to apply to them for a passage from this lonely beach and a
refuge from the wicked Mr. Every, and so made me a crutch, as is were,
from the bough of a tree and with it very painfully I crawled to where
the work was going forward.
A fat man with a red face and very white hair was commanding, whose
name, a sailor told me, was Captain Edgcomb. To him I applied to be
taken aboard his ship, but he--on my confessing I was from the _Charles
the Second_--gave me scurrilous language, abusing me before all the
people, and vehemently swearing that he would give me passage to
Bombay--and there to the hangman. Thus the naughtiness on our ship had
become the talk of all the world.
“Aye,” said I, “Captain Edgcomb, sir, rather would I go down with you
to Bombay and die according to the law of my country than perish here
at the hands of these heathen blackamoors, or among evil pirates.”
He turned away to his work, rumbling in his throat like the end of a
thunderstorm.
But others had compassion on me. As they came and went with their water
casks some humane men brought me one thing and another to refresh me,
encouraging me also with the promise that I should go away with them.
At evening the last load was taken. In that boat were the doctor and
the purser, both of whom said the captain would send for me to come
aboard.
“I am quite ready at any time,” I told them, “for all I have in the
world is the clothing that hangs to my back.”
So very hopefully I sat me down upon the sand and watched the sun go
down to his rest beyond the far sea line; but more I gazed at the masts
and yards of the three ships which stood out so bold and black against
the red sky. “They will come soon,” thought I, “for they are getting
ready to go,” the men being in the shrouds and out on the footropes.
When it grew dark, lights jumped from porthole to porthole as the men
went about the decks setting out the lanterns. I should guess the time
to have been past midnight when the anchor chains rattled and the
capstan creaked and the chant of the people working it and the clatter
of their bars in the drumhead sockets came across the water. “They will
be here anon,” thinks I, and I got down as close to the water as I
could, that they should lose no effort when the boat came in for me.
But it did not come. Perhaps it was one o’clock when the ship’s lights
began to move away--away and away until they went out altogether, and
only a long, thin lane of moonlight lay in the wide, empty waste.
My feet felt wet; I looked down and found I was standing in water up to
my knees.
How hard is the sea!