Gascoyne, The Sandal-Wood Trader A Tale of the Pacific , livre ebook

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160 pages

English

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pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. The great Pacific is the scene of our story. On a beautiful morning, many years ago, a little schooner might have been seen floating, light and graceful as a seamew, on the breast of the slumbering ocean. She was one of those low, black-hulled vessels, with raking, taper masts, trimly-cut sails, and elegant form, which we are accustomed to associate with the idea of a yacht or a pirate.

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	23 octobre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819911401
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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CHAPTER I.
THE SCHOONER.
The great Pacific is the scene of our story. On abeautiful morning, many years ago, a little schooner might havebeen seen floating, light and graceful as a seamew, on the breastof the slumbering ocean. She was one of those low, black-hulledvessels, with raking, taper masts, trimly-cut sails, and elegantform, which we are accustomed to associate with the idea of a yachtor a pirate.
She might have been the former, as far as appearancewent; for the sails and deck were white as snow, and every portionof brass and copper above her water-line shone in the hot sun withdazzling brilliancy. But pleasure-seekers were not wont, in thosedays, to take such distant flights, or to venture into suchdangerous seas, – dangerous alike from the savage character of theislanders, and the numerous coral reefs that lie hidden a few feetbelow the surface of the waves.
Still less probable did it seem that the vessel inquestion could belong to the lawless class of craft to which wehave referred; for, although she had what may be styled a wickedaspect, and was evidently adapted for swift sailing, neither largeguns nor small arms of any kind were visible.
Whatever her nature or her object, she was reduced,at the time we introduce her to the reader, to a state of inactionby the dead calm which prevailed. The sea resembled a sheet ofclear glass. Not a cloud broke the softness of the sky, in whichthe sun glowed hotter and hotter as it rose towards the zenith. Thesails of the schooner hung idly from the yards; her reflected imagewas distorted, but scarcely broken, by the long, gentle swell; hercrew, with the exception of the watch, were asleep either on deckor down below; and so deep was the universal silence, that, as thevessel rose and fell with a slow, quiet motion, the pattering ofthe reef-points on her sails forcibly attracted the listener'sattention, as does the ticking of a clock in the deep silence ofnight. A few sea-birds rested on the water, as if in the enjoymentof the profound peace that reigned around; and far away on thehorizon might be seen the tops of the palm trees that grow on oneof those coral islands which lie scattered in thousands, likebeautiful gems, on the surface of that bright blue sea.
Among the men who lay sleeping in various easy,off-hand attitudes on the schooner's deck, was one who meritsspecial attention – not only because of the grotesque appearance ofhis person, but also because he is one of the principal actors inour tale.
He was a large, powerful man, of that rugged buildand hairy aspect that might have suggested the idea that he wouldbe difficult to kill. He was a fair man, with red hair, and adeeply sun-burned face, on which jovial good humor sat almostperpetually enthroned. At the moment when we introduce him to thereader, however, that expression happened to be modified inconsequence of his having laid him down to sleep in a sprawlingmanner on his back – the place as well as the position being,apparently, one of studied discomfort. His legs lay over the heelof the bowsprit, his big body reposed on a confused heap of blocksand cordage, and his neck rested on the stock of an anchor so thathis head hung down over it, presenting the face to view with thelarge mouth wide open, in an upside-down position. The man wasevidently on the verge of choking, but, being a strong man, and arugged man, and a healthy man, he did not care. He seemed to preferchoking to the trouble of rousing himself and improving hisposition.
How long he would have lain in this state offelicity it is impossible to say, for his slumbers were rudelyinterrupted by a slight lurch of the schooner, which caused theblocks and cordage attached to the sheet of the jib to sweepslowly, but with rasping asperity, across his face. Any ordinaryman would have been seriously damaged – at least in appearance – bysuch an accident; but this particular sea-dog was tough in theskin, – he was only awakened by it – nothing more. He yawned,raised himself lazily, and gazed round with that vacant stare ofunreasonable surprise which is common to man on passing from astate of somnolence to that of wakefulness.
Gradually the expression of habitual good-humorsettled on his visage, as he looked from one to another of hissleeping comrades, and at last, with a bland smile, he broke forthinto the following soliloquy: "Wot a goose, wot a grampus you'vebin, John Bumpus: firstly, for goin' to sea; secondly, forremainin' at sea; thirdly, for not forsakin' the sea; fourthly, forbein' worried about it at all, now that you've made up your mind toretire from the sea; and fifthly – "
Here John Bumpus paused as if to meditate on thefull depth and meaning of these polite remarks, or to invent somenew and powerful expression wherewith to deliver his fifth head.His mental efforts seemed to fail, however; for, instead ofconcluding the sentence, he hummed the following lines, which, wemay suppose, were expressive of his feelings, as well as hisintentions: – "So good-by to the mighty ocean, And adoo to therollin' sea. For it's nobody has no notion Wot a grief it has binto me." "Ease off the sheets and square the topsail yards," was atthat moment said, or rather murmured, by a bass voice so deep andrich that, although scarcely raised above a whisper, it wasdistinctly heard over the whole deck.
John Bumpus raised his bulky form with a degree oflithe activity that proved him to be not less agile than athletic,and, with several others, sprang to obey the order. A few secondslater the sails were swelled out by a light breeze, and theschooner moved through the water at a rate which seemed scarcelypossible under the influence of so gentle a puff of air. Presentlythe breeze increased, the vessel cut through the blue water like aknife, leaving a long track of foam in her wake as she headed forthe coral-island before referred to. The outer reef or barrier ofcoral which guarded the island was soon reached. The narrow openingin this natural bulwark was passed. The schooner stood across thebelt of perfectly still water that lay between the reef and theshore, and entered a small bay, where the cairn water reflected thestrip of white sand, green palm, and tropical plants that skirtedits margin, as well as the purple hills of the interior.
Here she swept round in a sudden but graceful curve,until all her canvas fluttered in the breeze, and then droppedanchor in about six fathoms water.
CHAPTER II.
BUMPUS IS FIERY AND PHILOSOPHICAL – MURDEROUSDESIGNS FRUSTRATED.
The captain of the schooner, whose deep voice had sosuddenly terminated the meditations of John Bumpus, was one ofthose men who seem to have been formed for the special purpose ofleading and commanding their fellows.
He was not only unusually tall and powerful, –physical qualities which, in themselves, are by no means sufficientto command respect, – but, as we have said, he possessed a deep,full-toned bass voice, in which there seemed to lie a species offascination; for its softest tones riveted attention, and when itthundered forth commands in the fiercest storms, it inspiredconfidence and a feeling of security in all who heard it. Thecountenance of the captain, however, was that which induced men toaccord to him a position of superiority in whatever sphere ofaction he chanced to move. It was not so much a handsome as a manlyand singularly grave face, in every line of which was writteninflexible determination. His hair was short, black, and curly. Asmall mustache darkened his upper lip, but the rest of his face wasclosely shaven, so that his large chin and iron jaw were fullydisplayed. His eyes were of that indescribable blue color which canexhibit the intensest passion, or the most melting tenderness.
He wore a somber but somewhat picturesque costume, –a dark-colored flannel shirt and trousers, which latter weregathered in close round his lower limbs by a species of drab gaiterthat appeared somewhat incongruous with the profession of the man.The only bit of bright color about him was a scarlet belt round hiswaist, from the side of which depended a long knife in a brownleather sheath. A pair of light shoes, and a small round capresembling what is styled in these days a pork-pie, completed hiscostume. He was about forty years of age.
Such was the commander, or captain, or skipper ofthis suspicious-looking schooner, – a man pre-eminently fitted forthe accomplishment of much good, or the perpetration of greatevil.
As soon as the anchor touched the ground, thecaptain ordered a small boat to be lowered, and, leaping into itwith two men, one of whom was our friend John Bumpus, rowed towardthe shore. "Have you brought your kit with you, John?" inquired thecaptain, as the little boat shot over the smooth waters of the bay."Wot's of it, sir," replied our rugged seaman, holding up a smallbundle tied in a red cotton handkerchief, "I s'pose our cruiseashore won't be a long one." "It will be long for you, my man, – atleast as far as the schooner is concerned, for I do not mean totake you aboard again." "Not take me aboard agin!" exclaimed thesailor, with a look of surprise which quickly degenerated into anangry frown and thereafter gradually relaxed into a broad grin ashe continued: "Why, capting, wot do you mean to do with methen? for I'm a heavy piece of goods, d'ye see, and can't be easilymoved about without a small touch o' my own consent, you know."
Jo Bumpus, as he was fond of styling himself, saidthis with a serio-comic air of sarcasm, for he was an exception tothe general rule of his fellows. He had little respect for, and nofear of, his commander. Indeed, to say truth (for truth must betold, even though the character of our rugged friend shouldsuffer), Jo entertained a most profound belief in the immenseadvantage of muscular strength and vigor in general, and of his ownprowess in particular.
Although not quite so gigantic a man as his captain,he was nearly so, and, being a bold, self-