He laid his face in his hands and groaned aloud. Again he was silent, and remained without motion for nearly an hour.
“Can it be true?” he cried in a voice of suppressed agony, looking up as if expecting an answer from heaven. “Shall I never, never, never awake from this hideous dream!”
The conscience-smitten young man laid strong constraint upon himself and became calmer. When the sun began to approach the horizon he rose, and with an air of stern resolution, set about making various arrangements in the cave.
From the first Fletcher Christian had fixed on this cavern as a retreat, in case his place of refuge should be discovered. His hope was that, if a man-of-war should come at last and search the island, he and his comrades might escape detection in such a sequestered and well-concealed cavern. If not, they could hold out to the last and sell their lives dearly. Already he had conveyed to it, by degrees, a considerable supply of ammunition, some of the arms and a quantity of such provisions as would not readily spoil with time. Among other things, he carried to that elevated outlook Carteret’s book of voyages and some other works, which had formed the very small library of the Bounty, including a Bible and a Church of England Prayer-book.
When not gazing on the horizon, expecting yet fearing the appearance of a sail, he passed much of his time in reading.
On the evening of which we write he had beguiled some time with Carteret, when a slight sound was heard outside the cavern.
Starting up with the nervous susceptibility induced by a guilty conscience, he seized his musket and cocked it. As quickly he set it down again, and smiled at his weakness. Next moment he heard a voice shouting. It drew nearer.
“Hallo, sir! Mr Christian!” cried John Adams, stooping down at the entrance.
“Come down, Adams, come down; there’s no occasion to keep shouting up there.”
“True, sir; but do you come up. You’re wanted immediately.”