The Pirate Story Megapack. R.M. Ballantyne

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ from these thoughts they were now diverted by the appearance of Solomon. He had been very busy for about a quarter of an hour, and was now pulling away at a rope, as though the salvation of the whole party depended upon the successful accomplishment of his design.

      “Solomon,” cried Bart, “hurry, hurry! Come along! Hurry! The Antelope’s going down fast! Hurry, and bring Pat along with you. The captain’s waiting till you leave the Antelope. Hurry!”

      “I’se jest a histin up dis yer cookin-stove,” said he. “Ben tyin de ropes roun it ebery which way, an jes got her ready to be put into de boat.”

      “The what!” cried Arthur.

      “De cookin-stove,” said Solomon, gravely.

      “He’s mad!” cried Bruce. “He’s gone crazy. Pat and Solomon have both gone mad with excitement or terror.”

      “You jes gib a left here, an help dis ole man put dis yer cookin-stove aboard de boat, an den you’ll be all right.”

      “Solomon! Solomon!” cried Bart, “what horrible nonsense! What do you mean by talking about putting a cooking-stove on board the boat? Come along. Be quick.”

      “Tell you what,” said Solomon, “dis yer stove am a nessary succumstance. How you s’pose you get you meals cooked? Mus hab a cookin-stove. Mus so. You got water to bile, and things to cook.”

      “Nonsense,” cried Bart. “Can’t you see that it’ll sink the boat?”

      “But what’ll you do?” said Solomon. “You’ll suffer if you don’t take it. You mus hab a cookin-stove. Mus so!”

      At this obstinate persistence in such unaccountable folly the boys were in despair. The schooner was sinking lower and lower every minute, and there were those on board of her, wasting precious time and chattering nonsense. What could be the meaning of this? Had terror deprived them of their senses? It seemed so. There was Captain Corbet, absorbed in his own thoughts, evidently quite forgetful of the present danger, and unconscious of the scene around him. There was Wade, with his heavy face gaping from the windlass, where he had seated himself. There was Pat, still tying himself to the mast; and there was Solomon, toiling away at the cooking-stove. It was like a small floating lunatic asylum. They might well feel puzzled and bewildered.

      But suddenly one part of this very difficult problem was solved of its own accord. Solomon had not been very careful in the selection of his hoisting apparatus. He had picked up some bits of rope, and fastened them around the cooking-stove for slings, and into this he had passed the hook from the schooner’s tackle. He pulled and labored away, hoisting the heavy stove, and succeeded in raising it about half way above the hatches. A few more pulls, and it would have been on the deck. But there’s many a slip ’twixt cup and lip; and so it was destined to prove in this case. For at the very moment when the stove hung thus suspended, the slings suddenly gave way, and with a rush the heavy mass descended, falling with a loud crash to the bottom, and with a force that seemed sufficient to break through the Antelope’s bottom. There it lay—a ruin!

      Solomon stood and stared in silence at the scene. At length, drawing a long breath, he raised his head and looked at the boys.

      “Dar,” said he; “dat ar’s allus de way; troubles neber comes single. Dis yer shows dat de end am come. Smash goes de cookin-stove, an shows dat dis yer scursium’s a goin to tumminate in clam-ty. Dar ain’t a goin to be no more eatin in dis yer party; dat’s all done up.”

      “Solomon! Solomon!” cried Bart, “hurry up!”

      “Solomon! Pat! Wade! Captain Corbet! Come! Quick! Hurry up! Quick!”

      Such were the cries that now burst from those in the boat. They were floating close by the schooner, so as to be convenient for those who were yet on board. They had seen the destruction of the unfortunate cooking-stove, and were now eager to get away before the schooner should sink. But their patience was destined to be still further taxed, for Solomon continued to make observations on the fallen stove; and Pat went on winding the rope about himself and the mast; and Wade sat motionless on the windlass; and Captain Corbet stood in the same attitude as before,—in the attitude habitual with him, his hands mechanically grasping the tiller, and his mild eyes fixed before him, as though he was still steering the Antelope, and watching some shore ahead. But before him there was only fog; and what he might have seen was not visible to the material eye.

      “No use” said Solomon. “Dese yer may go, but I’se boun to stay. De captain may go; an mas’r Wade, he may go; an Pat mus frow away dem ropes. But for me, I’se goin to stick to de ole Antelope.”

      “But she’s sinking, and sinking fast,” cried Bart, with feverish impatience.

      “Dar’s no odds to dis ole man. Ef I can’t stick to de Antelope, I don’t want to go no whars else. Dar’s somebody a waitin for me, an I ain’t a goin to ’spose mysef to her, no how.”

      “But you’ll be drowned; you’ll be drowned. O, Solomon!” cried Bart, “cut Pat’s ropes, and make him come; and hurry.”

      “Come, come, captain. Make haste. Cut Pat’s ropes, Solomon. Come, Wade. The schooner’ll go down in five minutes!”

      “Don’t care!” said Solomon; “don’t care a mite. I’se dreadful fraid ob dat ar ole woman. I’d rader be drowned here dis yar way, dan be hammered to def wid a red-hot poker. Dat’s so; mind I tell you.”

      The boys were now in an agony of impatience and anxiety. The waters were high in the hold of the Antelope. They could see, from where they stood in the boat, the dark gleam of the rising flood, and knew that any moment might now witness the last plunge of the schooner into the depths below. And so they shouted, and screamed, and called upon every one in succession of those who still so madly lingered behind. But their cries were unheeded; for those four on the deck of the Antelope made not the slightest movement in response.

      When the boys had left the Antelope, the water in her hold was about four feet in depth. All the time since then it had been increasing; yet, after all, though the time seemed long to the anxious boys, not over a quarter of an hour had elapsed in reality.

      CHAPTER XXII.

      The waters continued to rise in the hold of the Antelope, and inch by inch the doomed schooner settled slowly down into the depths beneath. On the deck stood those four who still held aloof from the boat, and seemed to be animated by some insane or unintelligible motive. By the side of the schooner floated the boat, in which were Bruce, Arthur, Tom, Phil, and Bart. They were all standing up, and holding the Antelope’s rail, and shouting, bawling, yelling, entreating, threatening, and using every possible means to save their unfortunate companions.

      Suddenly Bart drew his knife.

      “Boys!” said he, “we’ll have to drag them off. Bruce and Arthur, come along. Tom and Phil, you mind the boat.”

      With these words he jumped on board the Antelope, with his open knife in his hand. Bruce and Arthur leaped on board after him.

      The sight of Bart, with his open knife, thus bounding on board the Antelope, astonished the other boys, who began to think that Bart, like the others, had also lost his senses; but they did as he said—Tom and Phil holding the boat to the side of the Antelope, and watching, while Bruce and Arthur followed Bart.

      Bart first rushed to Pat.

      “We’re СКАЧАТЬ