We rowed on under the Walrus' stern, and there we came upon an amazing spectacle.
A longboat was always towed astern for the greater convenience in case there was a sudden necessity for its use at sea. This boat had been drawn beneath the stern windows, from which a man was lowering a heavy box or chest, which a second man was receiving into its bow. The man in the longboat heard the rattle of our oars and gave us one lightning glance before he slashed at the mooring-rope and leaped to his own oars. The tide carried him immediately behind us, and I had a vision of a bloody face wrapped in an old shirt. If he knew who we were he gave no sign. He huddled on to a thwart and pulled downstream with the tide.
But the man in the stern windows was not so reticent. He leaned far out, wringing his hands and clamoring to be saved:
"Oh, Master Bones, ye wouldn't go for to leave poor Ben Gunn as stood by ye stanch to the end, and held the cabin door the while ye shot the bolt. Ah, and them —— villains are a-hammerin' it this moment. Don't 'ee go, and leave me like this! They'll keelhaul me, they will. They'll trice me to the cat."
"Back oars, Darby," I said. "We can't leave the poor fellow."
"And him with Bones!" protested Darby.
"'Twas not his fault."
We rowed under the stern, and I called up to the steward—
"Jump into the water and we'll pick you up, Ben."
"Who're you?" he answered shakily.