Kidnapped. Роберт Льюис Стивенсон

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СКАЧАТЬ enough, he had a belt full of golden guineas round his loins. Whatever my opinions, I could not look on such a man without a lively interest.

      “And so you’re a Jacobite?” said I, as I set meat before him.

      “Ay,” said he, beginning to eat. “And you, by your long face, should be a Whig?”²

      “Betwixt and between,” said I, not to annoy him; for indeed I was as good a Whig as Mr. Campbell could make me.

      “And that’s naething,” said he. “But I’m saying, Mr. Betwixt-and-Between,” he added, “this bottle of yours is dry; and it’s hard if I’m to pay sixty guineas and be grudged a dram upon the back of it.”

      “I’ll go and ask for the key,” said I, and stepped on deck.

      The fog was close as ever, but the swell almost down. They had laid the brig to, not knowing precisely where they were, and the wind (what little there was of it) not serving well for their true course. Some of the hands were still hearkening for breakers; but the captain and the two officers were in the waist with their heads together. It struck me (I don’t know why) that they were after no good; and the first word I heard, as I drew softly near, more than confirmed me.

      It was Mr. Riach, crying out as if upon a sudden thought:

      “Couldn’t we wile him out of the round-house?”

      “He’s better where he is,” returned Hoseason; “he hasn’t room to use his sword.”

      “Well, that’s true,” said Riach; “but he’s hard to come at.”

      “Hut!” said Hoseason. “We can get the man in talk, one upon each side, and pin him by the two arms; or if that’ll not hold, sir, we can make a run by both the doors and get him under hand before he has time to draw.”

      At this hearing, I was seized with both fear and anger at these treacherous, greedy, bloody men that I sailed with. My first mind was to run away; my second was bolder.

      “Captain,” said I, “the gentleman is seeking a dram, and the bottle’s out. Will you give me the key?”

      They all started and turned about.

      “Why, here’s our chance to get the firearms!” Riach cried; and then to me: “Hark ye, David,” he said. “Do ye ken where the pistols are?”

      “Ay, ay,” put in Hoseason. “David kens, David’s a good lad. Ye see, David my man, yon wild Hielandman is a danger to the ship, besides being a rank foe to King George, God bless him.”

      I had never been so be-Davided since I came on board; but I said Yes, as if all I heard were quite natural.

      “The trouble is,” resumed the captain, “that all our firelocks, great and little, are in the round-house under this man’s nose; likewise the powder. Now, if I, or one of the officers, was to go in and take them, he would fall to thinking. But a lad like you, David, might snap up a horn and a pistol or two without remark. And if ye can do it cleverly, I’ll bear it in mind when it’ll be good for you to have friends; and that’s when we come to Carolina.”

      Here Mr. Riach whispered him a little.

      “Very right, sir,” said the captain; and then to myself: “And see here, David, yon man has a beltful of gold, and I give you my word that you shall have your fingers in it.”

      I told him I would do as he wished, though indeed I had scarce breath to speak with; and upon that he gave me the key of the spirit locker, and I began to go slowly back to the round-house. What was I to do? They were dogs and thieves; they had stolen me from my own country; they had killed poor Ransome; and was I to hold the candle to another murder? But then, upon the other hand, there was the fear of death very plain before me; for what could a boy and a man, if they were as brave as lions, do against a whole ship’s company?

      I was still arguing it back and forth, and getting no great clearness, when I came into the roundhouse and saw the Jacobite eating his supper under the lamp; and at that my mind was made up all in a moment. I have no credit by it; it was by no choice of mine, but as if by compulsion, that I walked right up to the table and put my hand on his shoulder.

      “Do you want to be killed?” said I.

      He sprang to his feet, and looked a question at me as clear as if he had spoken.

      “Oh!” cried I, “they’re all murderers here; it’s a ship full of them! They’ve murdered a boy already. Now it’s you.”

      “Ay, ay,” said he; “but they haven’t got me yet.” And then looking at me curiously, “Will ye stand with me?”

      “That will I!” said I. “I am no thief, nor yet murderer. I’ll stand by you.”

      “Why, then,” said he, “what’s your name?”

      “David Balfour,” said I; and then thinking that a man with so fine a coat must like fine people, I added for the first time, “of Shaws.”

      It never occurred to him to doubt me, for a Highlander is used to see great gentlefolks in great poverty; but as he had no estate of his own, my words nettled a very childish vanity he had.

      “My name is Stewart,” he said, drawing himself up. “Alan Breck, they call me. A king’s name is good enough for me, though I bear it plain and have the name of no farm-midden to clap to the hind end of it.”

      And having administered this rebuke, as though it were something of a chief importance, he turned to examine our defences.

      The round-house was built very strong, to support the breaching of the seas. Of its five apertures, only the skylight and the two doors were large enough for the passage of a man. The doors, besides, could be drawn close: they were of stout oak, and ran in grooves, and were fitted with hooks to keep them either shut or open, as the need arose. The one that was already shut I secured in this fashion; but when I was proceeding to slide to the other, Alan stopped me.

      “David,” said he—“for I cannae bring to mind the name of your landed estate, and so will make so bold as to call you David—that door, being open, is the best part of my defences.”

      “It would be yet better shut,” says I.

      “Not so, David,” says he. “Ye see, I have but one face; but so long as that door is open and my face to it, the best part of my enemies will be in front of me, where I would aye wish to find them.”

      Then he gave me from the rack a cutlass (of which there were a few besides the fire-arms), choosing it with great care, shaking his head and saying he had never in all his life seen poorer weapons; and next he set me down to the table with a powder-horn, a bag of bullets, and all the pistols, which he bade me charge.

      “And that will be better work, let me tell you,” said he, “for a gentleman of decent birth, than scraping plates and raxing³ drams to a wheen tarry sailors.”

      Thereupon he stood up in the midst with his face to the door, and drawing his great sword made trial of the room he had to wield it in.

      “I must stick to the point,” he said, shaking his head; “and that’s a pity, too. It doesn’t set my genius, СКАЧАТЬ