I
swam along like a fish beneath the surface, making towards the
shore; but when for the sake of my lungs I had perforce to come up,
a perfect fusillade spattered all around me, and it seemed a
miracle I was not hit. I swam on; the tide was bearing the vessel
away from me; the flare lit but a narrow space of water, and I
doubt whether my head could now be seen and made a target. Though I
heard the muskets roaring and slugs plopping into the water, not
one of them touched me, and in a minute or two I gained the beach,
pretty breathless, but marvelously content.
As I shook the water from me I heard lusty swearing from the deck
of the drifting vessel, and from the tone of some of the voices
guessed that the lookout was in very hot water. And amid the deeper
voices of the buccaneers Vetch's shriller tone was quite audible to
me, as he shouted for someone to drop a kedge anchor over the side
and stop the cursed drifting. This was done, but I was in no fears
for the result, for under the force of wind and tide combined there
was a considerable way on the brig, which no light anchor would
avail to check. And in a few minutes I knew for certain that I was
right.
There came a great shout: "She's aground!" and the dark shape,
which I could now barely distinguish from where I stood, ceased to
move.
Satisfied that for a time at least I had prevented Vetch from
putting to sea, I clambered up the cliff and set off to rejoin my
companions, not venturing to go back for my coat, lest I should
lose my way in the dark.
Pages:
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347