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253 pages

English

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After a career at sea that caused his health to deteriorate, William Clark Russell retired and turned his attention to writing. Though he published several novels before The Wreck of the Grosvenor, this action-packed account of growing tensions among a ship's crew that eventually erupt into full-blown mutiny was his first major success.

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Adventure (Guyana)

Adventure

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 juillet 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776580811
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THE WRECK OF THE GROSVENOR
AN ACCOUNT OF THE MUTINY OF THE CREW AND THE LOSS OF THE SHIP WHEN TRYING TO MAKE THE BERMUDAS
* * *
WILLIAM CLARK RUSSELL

*
The Wreck of the Grosvenor An Account of the Mutiny of the Crew and the Loss of the Ship When Trying to Make the Bermudas First published in 1877 Epub ISBN 978-1-77658-081-1 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77658-082-8 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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VOLUME I Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII VOLUME II Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI VOLUME III Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII
VOLUME I
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Chapter I
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There was every appearance of a south-westerly wind. The coast ofFrance, which had been standing high and shining upon the horizon onthe port bow, and so magnified by the clear northerly air that youcould discern, even at that distance, the dim emerald sheen of theupper slopes and the streaky shadows thrown by projecting points andelbows on the white ground, was fast fading, though the sun still stoodwithin an hour of its setting beyond the bleak Foreland. The northwind, which had rattled us with an acre of foam at our bows rightaway down the river, and had now brought us well abreast of the Gulllightship, was dropping fast. There was barely enough air to keep theroyals full, and the ship's number, which I had just hoisted at thepeak—a string of gaudy flags which made a brilliant figure against thewhite canvas of the spanker—shook their folds sluggishly.
The whole stretch of scene, from the North Foreland down to thevanishing French headlands miles away yonder, was lovely at thatmoment—full of the great peace of an ocean falling asleep, of gentlymoving vessels, of the solemn gathering of shadows. The town of Dealwas upon the starboard bow, a warm cluster of houses, with a windmillon the green hills turning drowsily, here and there a window glitteringwith a sudden beam of light, an inclined beach in the foreground withgroups of boats high and dry upon it, and a line of foam at its basewhich sang upon the shingle so that you could hear it plainly amidintervals of silence on board the ship. The evening sun shining overthe giant brow of the South Foreland struck the gray outline of thecliff deep in the still water, but the clear red blaze fell far andwide over the dry white downs of Sandwich and the outlying plains, andthrew the distant country into such bold relief against the blue skythat, from the sea, it looked close at hand, and but a short walk fromthe shore.
There were three or four dozen vessels at anchor in the Downs waitingfor a change of wind or anticipating a dead calm for some hours. A fewothers, like ourselves, were swimming stealthily over the slack tide,with every foot of their canvas piled upon them with the effort toreach safe anchorage before the wind wholly failed and the tide turned.A large ship, with her sails stowed and her masts and rigging showingwith the fineness of ivory-tracing against the sky, was being towed upChannel, and the slapping of the water by the paddles of the tug, infast capricious revolutions, was quite audible, though both ship andsteamer were a long league distant. Here and there small boats wererowing away from the anchored ships for the shore. Now and again youcould hear the faint distant choruses of seamen furling a big sail orpaying out more cable, the clank, clank of which was as pretty asmusic. Down in the east the heavens were a deep blue, flecked along thewater line with white sails, which glowed in the sunshine like beacons.
I was in a proper mood to appreciate this beautiful tranquil scene.I was leaving England for a long spell, and the sight of that quietlittle town of Deal and the grand old Foreland cliffs shutting out thesky, and the pale white shores we had left far astern, went right tomy heart. Well, it was just a quiet leave-taking of the old countrywithout words or sobs.
"The pilot means to bring up. I have just heard him tell the skipper tostand by for a light sou'-westerly breeze. This is a most confoundednuisance! All hands, perhaps, in the middle watch to get under way."
"I expected as much," said I, turning and confronting a short,squarely-built man, with a power of red hair under his chin, and a skinlike yellow leather through thirty years exposure to sun and wind anddirt all over the world. This was the chief mate, Mr. Ephraim Duckling,confidently assumed by me to be a Yankee, though he didn't talk withhis nose. I had looked at this gentleman with some doubt when I firstmet him in the West India Docks. He had blue eyes, with a cast inthe port optic; this somehow made him humorous, whether or no, whenhe meant to be droll, so he had an advantage over other wits. He hadhair so dense, coarse, and red withal, that he might have been safelyscalped for a door-mat. His legs were short, and his body very long andbroad, and I guessed his strength by the way his arm filled out, andthreatened to burst up the sleeve of his coat when he bent it. So farhe had been polite enough to me, in a mighty rough fashion indeed; andas to the men, there had been little occasion for him to give orders asyet.
"I expected as much," said I. "I have been watching the coast of Francefor the last quarter of an hour, and the moisture has nearly shut itout altogether. I doubt if we'll fetch the Downs before the calm falls."
"There's a little wind over the land, though, or that mill wouldn't beturning."
He turned his eyes up aloft; then went to the ship's side, and lookedover. I followed him. The clear green water was slipping slowly past,and now and again a string of sea-weed went by, or a big, transparentjelly-fish, or a great crab floating on the top of the water. A thinripple shot out in a semicircle from the ship's bow, and, at allevents, we might tell that we were moving by watching the mast of theGull lightship sliding by the canvas of a vessel hull below the horizonto the eastward of the sands.
Some of the hands were on the forecastle, looking and pointing towardsthe shore. Others stood in a group near the galley, talking with thecook, a fat, pale man, with flannel shirt-sleeves rolled above hiselbows. The pigs in the long-boat grunted an accompaniment to thechattering of a mass of hens cooped under the long-boat. There wasno movement in the sea, and the great sails overhead hung withoutflapping, and nothing stirred aloft but the light canvas of the royals,which sometimes shook against the masts lazily, and with a fine distantsound.
The skipper stood on the weather-side of the poop, against thestarboard quarter-boat, conversing with the pilot.
Have before you a tall, well-shaped man, with iron-gray hair, a thinaquiline nose, a short compressed mouth, small dark eyes, which lookedat you imperiously from under a perfect hedge of eyebrow, and whitishwhiskers, which slanted across his cheeks; dressed in a tall hat, along monkey-jacket, and square-toed boots.
Captain Coxon was a decidedly good-looking man, not in the smallestdegree approaching the conventional notion of the merchant-skipper.Happily, it is no condition of good seamanship that a man should havebow-legs, and a coppery nose, and groggy eyes; and that he shouldprefer a dish of junk to a savoury kickshaw, and screeching rum to goodwine. I had heard before I joined the Grosvenor that Coxon was asmart seaman, though a bully to his men. But this did not prejudice me.I thought I knew my duties well enough to steer clear of his temper;and for the rest, knowing what a seafaring life is, and how scarcely anhour ever comes without bringing some kind of peril of its own, I wouldrather any day take service under a Bashaw who knew his work, than amild-natured creature who didn't.
The pilot was a little dusky-faced man, with great bushy whiskers, anda large chocolate-coloured shawl round his throat, though we were inAugust. I was watching these two men talking, when Duckling said—
"It's my belief that we shall have trouble with those fellows forward.When we trimmed sail off the North Foreland did you notice how theywent to work?"
"Yes, I did. And I'll tell you what's the matter. As I was goingforward after dinner, the cook stopped me, and told me the men weregrumbling at the provisions. He said that some of the pork served outstunk, and the bread was mouldy and full of weevils."
"Oh, is that it!" said Duckling. "Wait till I get them to sea, and I'llgive them my affidavit now, if they like, that then they'll havesomething to cry over. There's a Portugee fellow among them, and noship's company can keep honest when one of those devils comes aboard.He'll always find out something that's wrong, and turn and tumble itabout until it sets all hands on fire."
He went to the break of the poop and leaned, with his arms squarelyset, upon the brass rail, and stared furiously at the group of menabout the galley. Some of them grew uneasy, and edged away and gotround to the other side of the galley; others, of those who remained,folded their arms and stared at him back, and one of them laughed,which put him in a passion at once.
"You lazy hounds!" he bellowed in a voice of thunder, "have younothing to get about? Some of you get that cable range there more overto w