“Well out of that, sir,” said Swinburne, as I limped aft. “By the Lord Harry! it might have been a pretty go.”
Having shaped our course for Barbadoes, I dressed my leg, and went down to sleep. This time I did not dream of Celeste, but fought the Spaniard over again, thought I was wounded, and awoke with the pain of my leg.
Chapter Fifty One.
Peter turned out of his command by his vessel turning bottom up—A cruise on a main-boom, with sharks “en attendant”—self and crew, with several flying fish, taken on board a negro boat—Peter regenerates by putting on a new outward man.
We made Barbadoes without any further adventure, and were about ten miles off the bay, steering with a very light breeze, and I went down into the cabin expecting to be at anchor before breakfast the next morning. It was just daylight, when I found myself thrown out of my bed-place, on the deck, on the other side of the cabin, and heard the rushing of water. I sprang up. I knew the schooner was on her beam ends, and gained the deck. I was correct in my supposition: she had been upset by what is called a white squall, and in two minutes would be down. All the men were up on deck, some dressed, others, like myself, in their shirts. Swinburne was aft; he had an axe in his hand, cutting away the rigging of the main-boom. I saw what he was about; I seized another, and disengaged the jaw-rope and small gear about the mast. We had no other chance; our boat was under the water, being hoisted up on the side to leeward. All this, however, was but the work of two minutes; and I could not help observing by what trifles lives are lost or saved. Had the axe not been fortunately at the capstan, I should not have been able to cut the jaw-rope, Swinburne would not have had time, and the main-boom would have gone down with the schooner. Fortunately we had cleared it; the schooner filled, righted a little, and then sank, dragging us and the main-boom for a few seconds down in its vortex, and then we rose to the surface.
The squall still continued, but the water was smooth. It soon passed over, and again it was nearly calm. I counted the men clinging to the boom, and found that they were all there. Swinburne was next to me. He was holding with one hand, while with the other he felt in his pocket for his quid of tobacco, which he thrust into his cheek. “I wasn’t on deck at the time, Mr Simple,” said he, “or this wouldn’t have happened. I had just been relieved, and I told Collins to look out sharp for squalls. I only mention it, that if you are saved, and I am not, you mayn’t think I was neglectful of my duty. We ain’t far from the land, but still we are more likely to fall in with a shark than a friend, I’m thinking.”
This, indeed, had been my thoughts, but I had concealed them; but after Swinburne had mentioned the shark, I very often looked along the water for their fins, and down below to see if they were coming up to tear us to pieces. It was a dreadful feeling.
“It was not your fault, Swinburne, I am sure. I ought to have relieved you myself, but I kept the first watch and was tired. We must put our trust in God: perhaps we may yet be spared.”