Читать книгу Men Against the Sea – Book Set - James Norman Hall - Страница 43

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During the following night the severity of the weather relaxed; at dawn the sea was so calm that for the first time in fifteen days we found it unnecessary to bail. I had managed to sleep for two or three hours in a miserably cramped position. When I awoke, I lay without moving for some time, gazing in a kind of stupor at what I could see of the others in the boat.

Nelson lay beside me. His eyes were half opened, and with his parted lips, looking blue in the morning light, his hollow cheeks and sunken temples, I thought for a moment, until aware of some slight sign of breathing, that he must have died during the night. Captain Bligh sat in the stern, beside Elphinstone, who held the tiller. Although reduced, like the rest of us, to skin and bone, and clad, like ourselves, in sodden rags, there was nothing grotesque in his appearance. Wear what he might, he was still a noble figure, and suffering but added to the dignity and firmness of his bearing.

“Come up here in the sun, Mr. Ledward,” he said. “It will make a new man of you.”

I struggled to stand, but was unable to rise. Mr. Bligh helped me to the seat beside him. He made a sign to Hayward and Tinkler to help Nelson up. The botanist gave me a ghastly smile, designed to be cheerful.

“I feel better already,” he remarked in a weak voice.

The captain now addressed all hands. “Luck’s with us,” he said; “we’ve left the bad weather behind. Off with your cloathes, before the sun gets too high, and give them a drying while you’ve the chance. The sun on our bare hides will be as good as a glass of grog.... Mr. Samuel, issue a teaspoonful of rum all round!” He glanced about at the people appraisingly, and then added: “We’ll celebrate the good weather, lads! An ounce of pork with our bread and water!”

Our cloathing, reduced to rags by soaking in rain and wringing out in sea water, was hung along the gunwales to dry, and we now presented a strange and pitiful spectacle. Our skins, from long soaking in the rain, looked dead white, like the bellies of fish; some of the men were so reduced that I thought it a wonder they were able to stand. Nothing was more remarkable than their cheerfulness in bearing their afflictions. The warm sun, not yet high enough to scorch us, was exceedingly grateful, and our breakfast, enriched by a bit of pork, was a cheerful meal.

The morning was as beautiful as any I have known at sea. The breeze, at E.N.E., ruffled the sea to that shade of dark blue only to be seen between the tropics, and filled our sails bravely, without being boisterous enough to shower us with spray. The sky was clear save for the small, tufted, fair-weather clouds on the verge of the horizon.

Mr. Fryer reached over the side and brought up a bit of coconut husk, on which the first green beginnings of marine growth appeared. He handed it to the captain, who examined it with interest.

“This has been removed by man,” he remarked. “And look! It has not been overlong in the sea! We’re close in with New Holland, not a doubt of it!”

Nelson took it shakily from Bligh’s hand. “Aye, the nut was husked by Indians on a pointed stake. The growth of weed sprouts quickly in these warm seas.”

“Look!” exclaimed Elphinstone, pointing off to starboard.

Our heads turned, and we saw a company of the small black terns called noddies, flying this way and that, low over the sea as they searched for fish.

“Now, by God!” said the captain. “The land is not far off!”

The birds swung away to the west and disappeared. They were of the size of pigeons, and their flight resembled a pigeon’s flight.

“The worst of our voyage is over,” said Bligh. “We shall be inside the reefs before the weather changes. You have borne yourselves like true English seamen so far; I am going to ask for further proofs of fortitude. I do not know certainly that there is a European settlement on Timor, and should there prove to be none, it would be imprudent to trust ourselves among the Indians there. For this reason, I think all hands will agree that we had best reduce our rations still further, in order to be able to reach Java if necessary. My task is to take you to England. To make sure of success, we must, from now on, do without our issue of bread for supper.”

I glanced at the men covertly, knowing that some were so reduced that they might consider that Captain Bligh was cutting off the means of life itself. I was surprised and pleased, therefore, to see with what cheerfulness the captain’s proposal was received.

“What’s a twenty-fifth of an ounce of bread, sir?” asked old Purcell, grimly. “I’ve no complaint! I’d as soon have none as what we get. I reckon I could fetch Java with no bread at all!”

Bligh gave a short, harsh laugh. “I believe you might!” he said.

“Once inside the reefs,” remarked Nelson, “we’ll need little bread. There’ll be shellfish, and no doubt we shall find various fruits and berries on the islets.”

Tinkler smacked his lips, and grinned. Like the other midshipmen, he had withstood the hardships better than the grown men. Even Hallet seemed to have grown but little thinner.

I had violent pains in my stomach throughout this day and suffered much from tenesmus, as did nearly every man in the boat. Two or three were constantly at the gunwales, attempting what they were never able to perform, for not one of us, since leaving the Bounty, had had evacuation by stool. At nightfall I lay down in the bilges in a kind of stupor, till dawn. I was awakened by Bligh’s voice.

“Don’t move!” he said.

Then I heard the voice of Smith, from the bows: “I’ll have him next time.”

I opened my eyes and saw a small, black bird pass overhead, looking down at the boat. Nelson was already awake, and whispered weakly: “A noddy! Twice he’s made as if to alight on the stern!”

“Hush!” said the captain, looking down at us.

The little tern passed overhead once more, set his wings, and slanted down in the direction of the bow. Next moment I heard a feeble shout go up from the people, and the sound of fluttering wings.

“Good lad!” said Bligh to the man forward. “Don’t wring his neck!”

I managed to pull myself up to a sitting position while they were passing a wineglass to Smith, who held the bird while Hall cut its throat, allowing the blood to flow into the small glass, which was filled nearly to the brim.

“Now pluck him,” said Bligh, while the glass was being handed aft. He motioned the midshipmen to help Nelson to sit up. “For you, Mr. Nelson,” he went on, giving Tinkler the glassful of blood.

Nelson smiled and shook his head. “Lamb and Simpson need it more than I. Give it to them.”

“I order you to drink the blood,” said Bligh, with a smile that robbed the words of sternness.... “Mr. Hayward, hold the glass for Mr. Nelson while he drinks.”

The botanist closed his eyes and took the blood with a slight grimace, raising a trembling hand to wipe his lips. The youngsters made him as comfortable as they could by propping his back against the thwart.

Fryer was at the tiller. The plucked noddy, no larger than a small pigeon, was now handed to Mr. Bligh, who laid it on the carpenter’s chest, took a knife from his pocket, and divided the bird into eighteen portions. It was done with the utmost possible fairness, though a sixth portion of the breast was preferable to one of the feet, and I should have preferred the neck to the head and beak.

“Come aft, Mr. Peckover,” said the captain.... “Face forward, Mr. Cole, and call out when Mr. Peckover gives the word.”

The boatswain turned so that he was unable to see what went on. Peckover looked over the shares of raw bird and took up a choice bit of the breast.

“Who shall have this?” he called.

“Mr. Bligh!” replied Cole.

“No! No!” the captain interrupted. “There must be no precedence here, Mr. Cole: you will begin with anyone’s name, at random. Should we catch another bird, the order must be changed. The purpose of this old custom is to be fair to all.”

Peckover laid down the bit of breast and took up a wing. “Who shall have this?”

“Peter Lenkletter!”

The wing was handed to the quartermaster. When Bligh’s turn came, he was so unfortunate as to get a foot with nothing on it but the web, and a shred or two of sinew where it had been disjointed, but he gnawed this miserable portion with every appearance of relish, and threw away nothing but the barest bones. The head and beak fell to me; and it amazes me, as I write, to recollect with what enjoyment I swallowed the eyes, and crunched the little skull between my teeth as I sucked out the raw brains. Small as the amount of nourishment was, I fancied that it brought me an immediate increase of strength. I was happy when Nelson got a rich, red morsel of the breast. He wished to share it with me, and when I refused, he lingered long over it. “The noddy eats well!” he said. “No pheasant at home ever seemed better flavoured!”

Lamb was one of those men who seem born to make the worst of every misfortune; he was unable to sit up, and had scarcely enough strength to complain of the pain in his bowels. When his turn came, he got the other foot; and Cole, who had just received a portion of breast, handed it to him. “Here,” he said gruffly. “Ye need this more than me.”

“Thankee, Mr. Cole, thankee!” said Lamb in a quavering voice as he stuffed the bit of flesh into his mouth.

The weather continued fair throughout the day, with a calm sea and a good sailing breeze at E.N.E. It was fortunate that we were not obliged to bail, for many of us could not have undertaken the task. Our log showed that we were making between four and four and a half knots. During the afternoon we passed bits of driftwood on which the barnacles had not yet gathered, and Elphinstone picked up a bamboo pole, such as the Indians use for fishing rods. It was slimy with the beginnings of marine growth, but could not have been more than two or three weeks in the sea. Purcell took the bamboo, dried and cleaned it, sawed off the ends square, and set to fitting and seizing a worn-out file into the larger end, to make a spear for fish.

Toward evening, a lone booby appeared astern, and circled the boat for a long time, as if he desired to alight. We sat in suspense for ten minutes or more. The bird was not unlike our gannets at home, with a body as great as that of a large duck, and a five-foot spread of wings. I held my breath each time his shadow passed over the boat; I could hear Bligh’s hearty, whispered curses when the bird came sailing in as if to alight and then slanted away.

At last young Tinkler whispered: “Let me try, sir—with the bamboo. I’ve seen the Indians at Otaheite take them so, by breaking their wings.”

Bligh nodded. The bird had again turned away. The youngster crept forward, took the spear from Purcell, and stood on a thwart. The booby swung back toward the boat, while Tinkler waved his bamboo back and forth gently. It was strange, as the bird turned back toward the launch, to see how the moving spear aroused his curiosity. He came on with a rapid flap of wings, turning his head to see better, and passed over us very low, though still too high to be reached. Tinkler continued to move the rod gently.

This time the booby did not rise, but turned and headed back. The youngster held the spear with both hands, ready to strike. On came the bird, lower than ever, his wings held rigidly. Tinkler raised the rod to the full extent of his arms, and struck. The blow caught the booby where one of the wings joined the body, and with a grating cry he plunged into the sea.

“Hard up!” shouted Captain Bligh.

For the first time since leaving Tofoa, the boat was turned into the wind. Her sails fluttered as she luffed and lost steerage-way; we made a board and came about on the other tack before we were able to pick up the bird.

“Mr. Tinkler,” said the captain; “your fishing with the Indians was not wasted time!”

The launch shot up into the wind. Many eager hands went over the gunwale to pick up the wounded bird. Lebogue caught him and tossed him into the boat.

This time the blood was shared amongst Nelson, Lamb, and Simpson, who received a full wineglass each; and when the carcass—legs, head, bones, entrails, and flesh—was apportioned by the method of “Who shall have this?” our shares were of a size to make us feel that we were sitting down to a feast. Three flying fish, each about seven inches long, were found in the bird’s stomach; they were fresh, and I was overjoyed when one fell to me. I had eaten the raw fish prepared by the Indians of Otaheite, and found it palatable when dipped in a sauce of sea water. I now opened my knife and scaled the flying fish gloatingly, before cutting it into morsels which I dropped into the salt water in my coconut shell. Nothing was wasted; I even ate the entrails, and quaffed off the bloody salt water in which the fish had soaked.

Though we sailed well, the weather remained serene that day and during the two days following. On Tuesday we passed fresh coconut husks and driftwood which appeared to have been in the water no more than a week. We had the good fortune to catch three boobies on this day; without their blood and raw flesh I am convinced that two or three of us must have succumbed. The sun was so hot at midday that I felt faint and sick. On Wednesday it was apparent to all that the land was close ahead. The clouds to the west were fixed, and there were innumerable birds about, though we could catch none. The heat of the sun again caused much suffering.

“Soak what rags you can spare in the sea, and make turbans of them!” said the captain, when he heard some of the people complaining of the heat. He laughed. “English seamen are hard to please! I’d rather be hot than cold any day, and dry than wet, for that matter! Wring out your turbans frequently. The cool water’ll soon make you feel like fighting cocks. We should sight the reefs to-morrow, with this breeze.”

The boatswain smacked his lips. “There’ll be fine pickings, sir, once we find a passage. Cockles, and clams, and who knows what!”

“We’ll find a way in, never fear. From our latitude, we should sight the land close to Providential Channel, through which Captain Cook sailed the Endeavour.”

Nelson lay on the floor boards, listening to the talk as coolly as if dining with the captain aboard the Bounty.

“From what I have heard Captain Cook say,” he remarked, “there must be many passages leading in to the sheltered water. No doubt we shall have several to choose from.”

“So I believe,” said Bligh.

At about nine o’clock that night, the captain lay down beside me to sleep.

“Keep a sharp lookout, Mr. Cole,” he said; “we may be closer to the reefs than we suppose.”

A swell from the east had set in, but the breeze was steady and light, and there were no whitecaps to wet us with spray. I lay half in a doze, half in a stupor, for several hours, listening to Bligh’s quiet breathing. At last I fell asleep.

It must have been a little past midnight when I was awakened by the boatswain’s voice:—

“Mr. Bligh! Breakers, sir!”

In an instant the captain was on his feet and wide awake. I heard a distant, long-drawn roar; and Bligh’s abrupt command: “Hard alee!”

Three or four others were up by this time, ready for duty.

“Close-haul her!”

The moon was down, but the breakers were visible in the starlight as we clawed off.

“She lays well clear,” remarked the captain. “By God! What a surf! Let it break! We’ll find a way through when daylight comes!”

Many of us in the bottom of the boat were too weak or too indifferent even to raise our heads. Bligh noticed that I stirred.

“The reefs of New Holland, Mr. Ledward! We’ll be sailing calm water soon, and stretching our legs ashore! You’ll be feasting on shellfish to-morrow, my word on it!”

I managed to turn on my side, and fell asleep once more, lulled by a new sound: the crisp slap of wavelets under the launch’s bow as she stood off the land, close-hauled on the starboard tack.

At dawn, though the night had been warm and calm, most of the people were dreadfully weak. The birds we had eaten had merely prolonged our lives, without imparting any real strength. At the first signs of daylight, Mr. Bligh gave word to slack away to the west, but it was mid-morning before we again sighted the breakers. The wind had shifted to S.E. during the night.

Two teaspoons of rum were issued before we drank our water and ate our scant mouthful of bread. Heartened by the spirit and the prospect of smooth water and food, I struggled to a sitting position. Nelson was unable to sit up. Mr. Bligh had poured a few drops of rum between his lips, but he had shaken his head weakly when offered bread. I could see that the botanist, for all his courage, was at the end of his tether; unless we could secure fresh food for him, another day or two would see him dead. Lamb and Simpson were in a piteous state, and several others were nearly as bad.

Toward nine o’clock a line of tossing white stretched away as far as we could see to the north and south. The vast roll of the Pacific, broken by the coral barrier, thundered and spouted furiously.

Not more than a hundred yards beyond the first break of the seas, Bligh steered to the north, ordering Tinkler and Cole to trim the sheets.

“There, lads!” he said. “That should put heart in you! Never fear! We shall soon be inside!”

It was indeed a strange and heartening sight to men in our situation to see, just beyond the barrier of furious breakers, the placid waters of a vast lagoon, scarce ruffled by the gentle southeast breeze. And it seemed to me that I could perceive the outlines of land, blue and misty in the distance, far away across the calm water.

We had rounded a point of the reef and coasted for some distance in a northwesterly direction, when it fell calm for a few moments and the wind chopped around to east. Bligh bore up and ordered the sails trimmed once more, when we perceived that the reefs jutted far out to sea ahead of us.

“Forward with you, Mr. Cole!” said Bligh, and, when the boatswain stood in the bows with a hand on the foremast, “Can she lay clear?”

Cole gazed ahead intently for a moment before he replied: “No, sir! Can’t ye point up a bit?”

Though close-hauled, the luff of the mainsail was shivering a little at the time. Bligh shrugged his shoulders. “Hard alee!” he ordered. “Let go the halyards and get her on the other tack!”

We had not sailed a quarter of a mile on the larboard tack, when it was evident that we were embayed. The east wind had caught us unaware, and we could not lay clear of the points to north or south. We turned the launch north once more.

“Who can pull an oar?” Bligh asked.

Lenkletter, Lebogue, and Elphinstone attempted to rise, and sank back ashamed of their weakness. Fryer, Purcell, Cole, and Peckover took their places at the thwarts. They pulled grimly and feebly; in spite of their courage, they had not sufficient strength to enable us to clear the point of reef about two miles ahead.

“Now, by God!” Bligh exclaimed. “We must weather the point or shoot the breakers—one of the two! ... Mr. Tinkler! Are you strong enough to steer? Take the tiller and point up as close as you can!”

The captain set a tholepin on the lee side, ran out an oar, and began to pull strongly and steadily.

The prospect of shooting the breakers was enough to make the hardiest seaman pause. I could see, from time to time, the dark, jagged coral of the reef, revealed by a retreating sea. A moment later the same spot would be buried deep in foaming water, rushing over the reef with the thunder of a mighty cataract. It was incredible that our boat, small and deep laden, could live for an instant in such a turmoil. As I glanced ahead my heart sank. Then Tinkler shouted:—

“Mr. Bligh! There’s a passage ahead, sir! Well this side of the point!”

Bligh shipped his oar and rose instantly. After a quick glance ahead, he turned to the men. “Cease pulling, lads,” he said kindly. “Providence has been good to us. Yonder lies our channel; we can fetch it under sail.”